Author: Momo Chan

Trapped in a gilded cage by Timmy, I eventually gave birth to his child. Consumed by the humiliation of how we started, I kept both of them at an icy distance. That was, until the floating text suddenly appeared in my vision. [If she keeps freezing him out like this, the male lead’s patience is going to snap.] [She has no idea her son secretly cries every single day. It breaks my heart.] [Timmy has the restraint of a saint. Tasted heaven exactly once and got banished to the couch for years. Bro is probably wearing out her old shirts just trying to cope.] [It happens tonight. He brings her warm milk again, she knocks it over, and instead of coaxing her, he finally decides to file for divorce.] [And after the divorce, she gets thrown to the wolves and meets a brutal end.] A soft knock echoed through the room. I practically jogged over to the door. Timmy stood there with a glass of warm milk. He lowered his dark eyes, a cynical smirk playing on his lips. “Going to throw this all over my shirt again?” I shook my head and gently curled my fingers around the fabric of his sleeve. “There’s a thunderstorm tonight. Can you stay with me?” Then I tilted my head, looking at the tiny figure peeking out from behind his long legs. “Finn, do you want to sleep in the big bed with Mom and Dad tonight?” 01 “What?” The freezing chill in Timmy’s eyes melted for a fraction of a second. But the flash of joy vanished just as quickly, replaced by a guarded, flat tone. “Are you testing me, Aria?” He thought I was using a moment of fake docility to make him lower his guard. He thought I wanted him to get bored of me so he would finally let me go. I pressed my lips together, entirely unsure of how to answer. I fully expected him to pull his arm away. But he just stood there, frozen in place, letting me hold onto him. “So,” I murmured softly. “Are you going to stay?” Timmy’s Adam’s apple bobbed. His dark, heavy gaze locked onto mine. It was a thick, burning kind of stare that made my knees feel dangerously weak. I had always been terrified of him when he looked at me like that. It always felt like he was one second away from devouring me whole. The corner of his mouth twitched. “Are you sure you want this?” With the glowing comments scrolling frantically across my vision, I nodded. I kept my hand on his and drank the entire glass of warm milk right there. [Is it a bit too late for her to start playing nice?] [Three years of the silent treatment. Whatever love he had for her is probably completely dead by now.] [Just wait. Once he divorces her, her own biological father is going to sell her off to some sixty-year-old creep just to secure business deals for the adopted daughter.] [If she had just treated him an ounce better, she wouldn’t have been tortured to death in the end.] [Honestly, yeah, he’s a bit of an obsessive psycho with a serious addiction to her, but the man is young and built like a god. If she had just embraced it earlier, she would have been eating five-star meals every night.] [LMAO, if you ever feel stressed, just take a look at little Finn’s face right now.] I looked down, unable to help myself. A tiny, soft hand suddenly wrapped around my wrist. “Mommy, can I really sleep with you?” I had to admit, Timmy’s genes were absolute top-tier. Finn looked like a pocket-sized version of him, just with softer, squishier cheeks. He tipped his head back, his big eyes shining with pure, desperate hope. It took me a second to process it, and I let out a soft “Mhm.” His eyes went wide like he had just witnessed a miracle. “Mommy, can you bend down a little bit?” he whispered. I leaned over. His little face turned bright red. Shyly, he reached up, wrapped his little arms around my neck, and pressed a wet, clumsy kiss to my cheek. Then he looked up at Timmy. “Dad, is it Christmas early this year?” Timmy did not answer. He was just staring down at my lips, his eyes growing shades darker. [She has a tiny bit of milk on her lip. I will not elaborate on what is going through that man’s head right now.] [The tension is literally exploding.] [Pink.] [If she just made one single move, her husband would be on her like a shadow.] [A delicious shadow.] [Bro is dominating the ‘silent suffering’ leaderboard. Give the man a trophy.] [He’s putting the whole obsessive-romance genre to shame.] [Aria Sinclair, you invited him to bed. Do not let this man leave empty-handed.] [I have no idea what timeline we are in right now, but I am grabbing my popcorn out of pure respect.] 02 I was entirely too used to sleeping alone. Having two extra bodies in my bed tonight felt completely foreign. The moment Finn climbed under the covers, he latched onto me like a koala. If I even tried to turn my head away, his little hands would reach up and physically turn my face back toward him. “Mommy, face this way.” He was a chatterbox. He babbled about a dozen random things, but the moment he closed his eyes, he was out cold. My arm was starting to fall asleep. As I carefully tried to pull it out from under him, my hand accidentally brushed against Timmy’s cheek. He let out a low, muffled groan. His eyes locked onto mine. The bedroom was dimly lit by a soft amber lamp, but I could still clearly see the tips of his ears burning bright red. “Are you…” He looked away instantly. “I’m fine.” But his voice sounded impossibly tight. I honestly had no idea what was wrong with him. [What do you think is wrong? Bro just caught a whiff of your perfume and is fighting for his life right now.] [Take a wild guess why he refuses to divorce you even though you treat him like ice.] [Because he is literally addicted to you. Duh.] I swallowed hard. My face flushed hot as the absolute filth scrolling across the comments hit me. But Timmy and I had only been together that one single time. Did he really think about me like that? Especially since that one time had felt like nothing but a humiliating trap to me. I hated thinking about it. I quickly pulled my hand back, intending to roll over and face the wall. But I did not realize a strand of my hair had gotten tangled around the button of Finn’s pajamas. As I turned, my scalp pulled sharply. I have thick, wavy hair, and it was knotted tight. The more I fumbled with it, the more Finn started to whine in his sleep. “Don’t move.” Timmy’s voice came out rough and completely shot. A large, warm hand slid into my hair. I flinched on pure instinct. He noticed. The warmth drained out of his voice, leaving it flat. “I’m not going to touch you.” The moment the words left his mouth, my hair fell free. We had nowhere else to look but at each other. I could see it. I could clearly see the dark, suffocating wave of desire churning in his eyes. A wave of nausea twisted in my stomach. [Here she goes again, she’s going to call him disgusting, isn’t she? No matter how much he loves her, a man can only take so many daggers to the chest before he breaks.] [Aria, have a heart. Aside from that one night, has he ever laid a finger on you in the last three years? You have no idea how brutal the real world is going to be if you actually leave him.] I dug my nails into my palms, swallowing down the discomfort with everything I had. I looked at him and stammered out, “Thank… thank you.” Timmy froze. The darkness in his eyes shifted into pure shock. But then he suddenly threw off the blanket and practically bolted for the en-suite bathroom. “Go to sleep.” [We all know exactly what he’s doing in there. It took me zero seconds to figure it out.] [Taking matters into his own hands, literally.] [The bathroom smells just like her. Bro’s blood pressure must be through the roof.] [A Michelin-star feast right there.] [Girl, do us a favor and give the man something. We are starving out here.] [Can you guys chill? The fact that she initiated anything tonight is already a massive plot twist.] [True, but let’s be real. Their first time was a massive misunderstanding anyway.] I read the floating text slowly. My mind drifted back into the past. 03 Before Timmy forcefully dragged me to the altar, we had been dating online for a year. That was right around the time I found out I was the biological daughter of a wealthy family, swapped at birth by a malicious nanny. I had lived in an orphanage for over twenty years. I genuinely thought going back to my biological family meant I would finally experience what it was like to be loved. But my parents heavily favored Stella, the adopted daughter who had taken my place. During those dark months, Timmy was the only person I opened up to. When we finally met in person, he was incredibly gentle, wearing a tailored suit, polite and perfect. I thought he was a good man. But once we became official, his suffocating, obsessive need to control everything around me made it hard to breathe. I carefully suggested we take a break. He smiled and agreed, but I constantly felt like there was a pair of eyes watching me from the shadows. Then came the day I accidentally stumbled into his basement. An entire wall was plastered with candid photos of me. Next to it was a collection of bizarre, terrifying items. The online romance had never been a coincidence. It was a calculated hunt. I demanded a breakup. He just laughed, a hollow, broken sound. “Break up? I think I’d rather just die.” I was terrified. So terrified that during my graduation party, I drank a spiked glass of wine in a daze. I was carried to a hotel room. His room. It was a night of absolute madness. When I woke up and realized what happened, I slapped him as hard as I could across the face. He did not even flinch. He just reached up, gently wiping my tears away with his thumb. “Did that hurt your hand?” “Do you want to hit the other side?” “Keep hitting me until you aren’t angry anymore.” When I finally broke down and ran out of the room, a swarm of paparazzi was waiting in the hallway. My reputation was completely destroyed overnight. My parents looked at me with pure disgust. They immediately started arranging blind dates for me to salvage their public image. When Timmy found out, he used the security footage from the hallway to force my parents’ hand. We were married a week later. I spent years believing every single tragedy in my life was a trap he had carefully orchestrated. I treated him like dirt. A few months into the marriage, I found out I was pregnant. I did not want the baby. Timmy dropped to his knees in front of me. He pulled out a pocket knife and dragged it across his own wrist, drawing a bright line of crimson. “You don’t want him, and you don’t want me. Fine. Then neither of us will ever bother you again.” I hated him. I wanted him gone. But seeing the blood dripping onto the carpet, I was paralyzed with fear. I hated my own cowardice. After I gave birth to Finn, I refused to hold him. I just wanted to freeze Timmy out until he finally got tired of me and let me go. But the comments were telling me that leaving him meant I was going to die a miserable death. And they kept mentioning a misunderstanding. What misunderstanding? My thoughts swirled in the dark until exhaustion finally pulled me under. I did not even hear when Timmy finally came back to bed. 04 When I woke up the next morning, the space next to me was empty. I let out a breath of relief, but then nearly jumped out of my skin when a tiny face suddenly appeared inches from mine. “Mommy, you’re awake!” Finn was standing beside the bed, dressed in his crisp little kindergarten uniform. He looked exactly like a pristine little prince. Even though I had spent years treating him like a ghost, he still seemed completely obsessed with me. [Here it is, the daily morning routine. She pretends to be asleep, and the kid gets his heart broken.] [Finn is such an angel. His mom literally ignores his existence, and he still follows her around like a puppy.] [Ugh, my heart hurts so much. What did this sweet boy ever do to deserve this?] “Morning, Mommy. Can I give you a kiss before I go to school?” I was still half-asleep and entirely disoriented. “What?” “The kids on Bluey give their mommy kisses every morning. I want to do it too.” My stomach tied itself into a knot. We rarely ever spoke, let alone touched. I had a massive mental block when it came to physical affection. As I bit my lip, hesitating, my eyes flicked to the doorway. Timmy was standing right there. A flash of the comments predicting my brutal death crossed my mind. Seeing my silence, Finn dropped his head. The corners of his mouth turned down. But he forced a brave little smile a second later. “It’s okay, Mommy. I didn’t really want to—” “How… where do you want to kiss?” I stammered, cutting him off. Finn’s eyes lit up like fireworks. “Mommy, you mean yes?!” He grabbed my hand, swinging it back and forth, his eyes curving into little crescents. I nodded, feeling incredibly awkward. [Woah wait, is the Ice Queen actually thawing?] [Look at Timmy’s face right now. Bro’s brain is completely short-circuiting. He’s malfunctioning.] [He definitely wants a kiss from his wife too.] I did not dare look at Timmy. The tiny human had already scrambled up and pressed a loud smack against my cheek. I froze solid. It felt strange. But… I did not push him away. Finn wrapped his arms around my neck and nuzzled my shoulder. “Mommy, am I dreaming?” […Why am I crying right now?] [The way he nuzzled her. My chest physically hurts.] [Timmy standing in the doorway like: Hello, I am also a toddler, I require a kiss.] [Look at him. He’s practically turning into stone waiting for her to notice him.] I instinctively glanced up at the doorway. Timmy didn’t say a word. He just narrowed his eyes slightly, his expression completely unreadable. I quickly looked away, pretending I hadn’t seen a thing. Finn finally let go of me and happily skipped toward the door. “Dad! I kissed Mommy again!” Timmy let out a low “Mhm” and reached out to affectionately ruffle Finn’s hair. “Dad’s taking you to school today.” Finn, with his little backpack securely on, looked back at me with absolute puppy-dog eyes. “I wish Mommy could take me.” “Be good. Mom needs to rest. Don’t bother her.” “Dad, why don’t you go kiss Mommy too?” I leaned back against the headboard, my heart suddenly leaping into my throat. Timmy lowered his eyes. “We’re going to be late. Say bye to Mom.” “Aww, okay! I’ll wake up earlier tomorrow to kiss Mommy again!” Finn scrunched his face in determination before waving frantically at me. “Bye, Mommy! I’m going to school now! I promise I’ll be super good!” The floating text exploded again. [Weird. Didn’t she want to run away? Why is she suddenly playing house?] [Hey… this is a good thing, right?] [The teacher gave the kids an assignment yesterday. The moms are supposed to supervise the kids learning how to shower by themselves. That’s why he snuck into her room last night.] [Thinking about him having to stand in front of the class and admit he didn’t do the homework because his mom hates him… I’m going to cry.] [Aria, since you’re already acting like a decent human today, can you just stand by the bathroom door tonight and help him out?] 05 I don’t know what Timmy said to Finn on the way to school, but when Finn got home, he was incredibly quiet. He didn’t come looking for me. He didn’t ask me to play. The comments were relentless. [Forget it. Once they divorce and Timmy marries Stella, Finn will finally get a mom who cares about him.] [Lmao, who would even believe that a billionaire like Timmy has been entirely celibate for years?] [Bro is basically guarding his purity for her. Thank god she refused to sleep with him, right?] [Stella might be a manipulative snake, but sometimes the villain gets the bag! Let’s go!] I was finally starting to piece everything together. In this timeline, the “main character” was Stella. Even though I was the biological daughter, she was the one destined to win everything. Half the comments were tearing me apart for being pretentious and difficult. But a few people were actually making sense. [The original plot was garbage anyway. The adopted daughter steals her family, her husband, and her kid, and we’re supposed to cheer for her? The morals are entirely messed up.] [The biological daughter died horribly just to pave the way for a fraud.] [If it were me, I’d never let them win. Do not sign those papers, Aria! Let them suffer!] I took a deep breath, stood up, and walked toward the bathroom. Finn was standing precariously on a plastic step stool, stretching as hard as he could to reach the showerhead. Hearing my footsteps, he whipped his head around. “Mommy?” I leaned against the doorframe, crossing my arms defensively. “Do… do you need some help?” He froze for two whole seconds, his face turning a brilliant shade of crimson. “You know about my homework, Mommy?” “Yeah.” “Oh!” “I can do it by myself, Mommy! I’m a big boy!” He tried three more times, nearly slipping. I hesitated for a second before walking in, pulling the showerhead down, and handing it to him. “Thank you, Mommy!” [Yesterday she wouldn’t even look at them, today she’s giving kisses and helping with bath time. Did she get possessed?] [Timmy is currently having an existential crisis.] From the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of a tall figure standing just outside the door, holding a fluffy towel. “Mommy, look at me!” Finn suddenly spun around, his hair entirely covered in a mountain of soap bubbles. He vigorously scrubbed his head, wiggling his little hips. In the process, his foot kicked the showerhead on the floor. A jet of warm water shot straight up, completely soaking my blouse. “Ahhh! I’m sorry, Mommy!” He panicked, reaching out to try and wipe the water off me, but ended up smearing a massive handful of soap directly onto my shoulder. [Finn, on behalf of your father, thank you for your service.] [Timmy doesn’t have to hug her laundry to sleep tonight.] [Direct hit. Zero patience left.] I quickly turned my body, trying to angle myself away from the doorway where Timmy was standing. I gently caught Finn’s chaotic little hands. “It’s fine, I’ll rinse you off.” I heard footsteps behind me. For some reason, my entire body went rigid. But he didn’t step into the bathroom. He just leaned against the vanity outside, silently watching us. Only when the water turned off did Timmy walk in. He scooped up the dripping-wet toddler, expertly wrapping him in the towel and drying him off. He helped Finn brush his teeth and apply his baby lotion. He moved with absolute effortless precision. It hit me then—he was the one who had been raising this child entirely by himself all these years. “I’ll have the nanny put him to bed.” The nanny was waiting in the hallway. She took Finn from his arms. Finn looked over the nanny’s shoulder, staring at me with pure longing. Timmy’s eyes darkened in annoyance, and Finn looked away, defeated. “Okay, I’ll just…” I knew exactly what he wanted. I walked over, leaned in, and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. The little guy went completely still against the nanny’s shoulder, his eyes going impossibly wide. He slapped both hands over his face, looking like he was about to pass out from sheer joy. Right before they turned the corner, he waved frantically. “Goodnight, Mommy! I’m so happy today! Super, super happy!” 06 The door clicked shut. The bedroom descended into total silence. I looked down at my soaked shirt. The thin fabric was clinging to my skin like a second layer. I crossed my arms, feeling my face heat up. When I looked up, I crashed straight into Timmy’s dark, predatory stare. [To Timmy right now, she is a literal succubus.] [Imagine being touch-starved for years, and the woman who hates you is standing right in front of you looking like that. Give the man some grace.] [Zero patience. He’s going in.] My cheeks were burning. I took a clumsy step backward. “I… I need to go change.” The moment I turned, my foot hit a wet patch of tile. Before the scream could even leave my throat, a solid arm wrapped around me, pulling me hard against a chest. A scorching hot hand clamped tightly around my waist. [Look at the size of that hand. The tension is lethal.] [She’s going to shove him away again, isn’t she?] [Last month he accidentally brushed her hand passing the salt, and she threw a glass of water at the wall.] [Welp, back to the couch he goes. Stella is definitely winning this war.] Maybe the comments were distracting me. Or maybe I was just frozen. But I forgot to push him away. By the time my brain caught up, Timmy had already scooped me up into his arms and was carrying me toward the bed. “You’re drenched.” I turned my head away, unable to look at him. My voice came out like a whisper. “There’s something… hard in your pocket. It’s pressing into me.” The temperature in the room plummeted. I felt his breathing hitch. The muscles in his arms turned to absolute granite. [Bro is wearing sweatpants. What pocket? What belt?] [Oh honey, she knows exactly what that is.] [Let me spell it out for the innocent folks in the back: The man is fully bricked up.] [God, the ‘restrained obsessive’ trope is peak fiction. When they finally snap, it is glorious.] [Do it.] A second later, Timmy grabbed my hand and physically dragged it downward, pressing my palm flat against the heat. Then, before I could process the shock, he pulled the heavy duvet over me, trapping me underneath. “I’ll go find you some dry clothes.” Just as he turned to leave, my hand shot out from under the covers and grabbed his wrist. “Don’t go.” He raised an eyebrow. I forced myself to meet his eyes. “I want to talk to you.” 07 I needed to ask him. I needed to know if he was really the one who spiked my drink that night. I needed to know what the comments meant by “misunderstanding.” Timmy stared down at my face, looking like he had just been electrocuted. Up until today, I treated physical contact with him like a plague. “Okay.” His expression smoothed out into total blankness. It made my stomach twist. Had he already mentally checked out? Was he already planning the divorce? Timmy sat on the edge of the mattress. He reached out and casually pulled the edge of the duvet over his lap, covering himself. [LMAO, the absolute king of ‘cold showers and doing my own laundry’ right here.] [Timmy: Pain is just weakness leaving the body.] [Timmy’s lower half: Bro, do you hate me? Are you actively trying to kill me?] [The second she grabbed his hand, he probably planned their entire second honeymoon in his head.] [Aria, listen to me. Everyone in this world is using you. Your husband and your kid are the only ones who actually give a damn about you.] I looked up at him. “I’ve been thinking about this for a long time, and I wanted to ask you face to face…” I didn’t get to finish. My phone vibrated violently on the nightstand. I fumbled for it and accidentally hit the speakerphone button. A deep, professional male voice echoed through the room. “Good evening, Ms. Sinclair. I am the divorce attorney you—” I slammed my finger onto the end call button in pure panic. Timmy was already on his feet. His back was turned to me, and his posture was terrifyingly stiff. His voice was pure ice. “I have work to do. Whatever you wanted to say, we can talk about it another day.” He walked out without looking back. He was walking so fast he nearly tripped over the rug by the door. [Aria, I think you just broke your husband.] [Why on earth would the divorce lawyer call right at this exact second?!] [What was the point of being nice to him for two days just to gut him like this? That’s just cruel.] I didn’t hire that divorce lawyer. I had no idea why they were calling me. Then my screen lit up with a text from my mother: “Aria, hurry up and sign the papers with Timmy. Mom is going to bring you home.”

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1 “I am not asking you to pay me back for the surgery. I actually have a grandson right around your age. How about I set you two up?” The old woman in the hospital bed looked terrifyingly pale, but she gripped my hand with a stubborn, totally unreasonable smile. I was sweating bullets. “Please do not joke around like that, ma’am,” my voice literally shook. “I just got fired from my job. I borrowed that fifteen grand to cover your emergency surgery deposit. Once your family gets here, please just wire it back to me. I do not even have rent money for next month.” The old lady waved her hand like it was absolutely nothing. “What are you panicking for? My grandson is loaded. I will make him pay you back with interest.” Thirty minutes later, the hospital room door slammed open. “Grandma! What happened? Why are you in the ER?” The voice was a tense mix of panic and suppressed rage. I turned around on pure instinct. The second our eyes locked, the room went so dead silent you could hear the IV drip echoing. We both froze completely. Because the man standing in the doorway was Adam Blackwood. The exact same CEO who, exactly three hours ago, ripped my medical receipt to shreds in front of two hundred executives and told me to get the hell out of his company. 2 My name was Willow Quinn. I was the most invisible corporate drone in the Strategy Department of Blackwood Group. How invisible? The security guards downstairs knew the faces of the local delivery drivers, but they could never remember which floor I worked on. I was always the first to arrive and the last to leave. If the coffee machine broke, I submitted the maintenance ticket. If the projector malfunctioned, I was the one crawling under the table to fix the cables. If a department suddenly needed an emergency brief, everyone’s first instinct was to yell my name. Because I was useful. And because I was too terrified to say no. My mom ran a tiny food truck back in my hometown, selling breakfast sandwiches rain or shine for over a decade. Last year, she was diagnosed with severe kidney disease. Her monthly medical bills were a bottomless black hole. I had zero safety net. My probationary salary at Blackwood Group was barely enough to scrape by, but if I became a permanent employee, the pay bump and the year-end bonus meant my mom could afford her medication next month. To anyone else in this building, it was just a number. To me, it was literal survival. On my first day, my supervisor Brenda tossed a massive stack of files onto my chest. “Willow, Adam absolutely despises incompetence.” She tapped her cherry-red acrylic nails against my cheap plastic name tag. “You went to a no-name state college. The only reason you got your foot in the door is because HR took pity on you. Do not start thinking you are actually someone important here.” I nodded. “I will work hard, Brenda.” She let out a sharp, mocking laugh. “Hard work is useless. This building is packed with people who work hard. What we need are people who make the CEO look good.” A soft, melodic laugh drifted over from the next desk. “Brenda, stop scaring her. What if she cries?” That was Lily. She was the new executive assistant to the CEO. Ivy League graduate, stunningly gorgeous, and always spoke in this gentle, breathy voice. Naturally, the entire office revolved around her. Rumor had it she and Adam grew up together. Rumor also had it she was practically one ring away from becoming the future Mrs. Blackwood. The way Brenda looked at Lily was entirely different from how she looked at me. “Lily, you are too sweet, but corporate is not a charity. Give girls like her an inch, and they forget their place.” Lily slid a cup of expensive coffee across the desk toward me. “Do not mind her, Willow. Brenda just wants you to succeed. Adam has insanely high standards, so just shadow me and you will learn.” I reached for the coffee. The scalding liquid spilled slightly, burning the back of my hand. She saw it and did not warn me. Brenda saw it too and just rolled her eyes. “Why are you spacing out? Get those bidding documents to the twenty-eighth floor before nine-thirty.” I grabbed the binders and ran. 3 That was the very first time I met Adam Blackwood. The conference room on the twenty-eighth floor was massive. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the most expensive real estate in the city. Adam sat at the head of the table. He wore a tailored black suit, his tie knotted with absolute, ruthless precision. He did not even glance at me, only scanning the document I placed in front of him. “Who put this together?” I opened my mouth to speak, but Lily confidently strolled into the room. “Adam, the Strategy team and I finalized it this morning. Willow just ran the errand to bring it up.” Adam flipped through two more pages. “The logic is clean.” Lily beamed. “I am glad you like it. I was so worried it would not meet your standards.” I stood frozen by the door, clutching the backup data in my hands. I had stayed up until 3 AM for three nights straight to write that proposal. Lily had literally only changed a single comma on the final page. Adam finally lifted his eyes and looked at me. “Do you need something?” My throat went completely dry. “Mr. Blackwood, regarding the foot traffic projections for the Vanguard Center project, there is a supplemental data sheet right here. I thought…” Brenda cleared her throat loudly from the hallway. Lily smiled and smoothly cut me off. “Willow, you can head back downstairs. I will walk Adam through the supplemental data right now.” Adam looked away from me. “Get out.” I swallowed my words, turned around, and walked out. The second the heavy glass doors clicked shut, I heard Brenda hissing at me. “You have zero situational awareness. Do you have any idea who is sitting in that room?” That night, Lily used my proposal to present at the internal town hall. Adam publicly praised her. The entire room erupted into applause. Brenda stood up, grinning from ear to ear. “Lily has only been here for three months, and she is already delivering senior-level results. Mr. Blackwood definitely has an eye for talent.” Adam leaned back in his chair. “Lily will be the lead coordinator for the Vanguard Center bidding war.” The applause grew deafening. I sat in the very back row, my fingernails digging sharp crescent moons into my palms. My desk neighbor, Zoe, leaned over and whispered. “Did you not pull all-nighters for that exact file?” I looked at Lily on the stage. She was smiling down at Adam, looking completely pure and harmless. “Drop it,” I whispered back. Zoe angrily slammed her pen onto her notebook. “Why? She steals your work to show off, and you are just going to sit here and clap for her?” I did not clap. Brenda noticed. After the meeting, she cornered me in the breakroom. “Willow, what exactly was that attitude out there?” “I did not have an attitude.” “No attitude?” She slammed her ceramic mug onto the counter. “Lily gets recognized by the CEO, and you sit there looking like someone died. Who do you think you are?” “I wrote that proposal.” Footsteps paused right outside the breakroom door. Brenda looked at me like I had just told a hilarious joke. “You wrote it? Prove it.” I pulled out my phone and opened the cloud document’s version history. Brenda did not even look at the screen. She just reached out and shoved my phone down. “Listen to me very carefully. In this company, whoever Adam credits is the one who gets the glory. You are a disposable temp making pennies. Stop daydreaming.” Lily walked in. She was holding a sleek water bottle, her tone as soft as ever. “Brenda, let it go. Willow is probably just exhausted.” I stared right into her eyes. “Lily. You know exactly who wrote that file.” She paused for a fraction of a second before smiling warmly. “Willow, there is no need to aggressively divide team efforts like this. You will understand how corporate works eventually.” Brenda instantly chimed in. “Did you hear that? Lily is still covering for you after you disrespected her. If you throw another tantrum, I will have HR escort you out tomorrow.” I shut my mouth. I needed this paycheck. 4 Late that night, I took the last bus back to the rundown apartment complex on the edge of the city. Underneath a flickering streetlamp by the alley, an old woman was squatting on the curb, flattening cardboard boxes. She wore a faded gray jacket that looked entirely out of place in the cold wind. She saw me walking by and waved me over. “Sweetheart, could you take a look at my phone? I cannot make any calls.” I walked over and checked her screen. The carrier notification popped up immediately. “Ma’am, your phone service got suspended. You are out of minutes.” She patted her empty pockets, looking thoroughly embarrassed. “I completely forgot to pay the bill. Could you possibly top it up with twenty bucks for me? I swear I will pay you back tomorrow.” I hesitated. I had only eaten a single plain bagel for dinner to save money. But looking at her shivering shoulders, I ended up paying fifty dollars into her account. The old lady stared at the confirmation text for a long time. “What is your name, sweetheart?” “Willow Quinn.” “Like the tree?” “Yes. Like the tree.” She nodded slowly. “That is a good, strong name. Branches and leaves. You bend, but you do not break. You will survive anything.” I smiled politely, not thinking much of it. 5 The next morning, Brenda ordered me to print and bind three hundred copies of the project materials. The massive industrial printer jammed. I was kneeling on the floor, ripping open the paper trays, when Lily walked over in her designer heels. “Willow, are the documents ready for the ten o’clock Vanguard bidding meeting?” “Yes,” I said, wiping toner off my hands. “Digital and physical copies are all set up in the main conference room.” She leaned down, lowering her voice so only I could hear. “Do not be mad at me for not defending you yesterday. Adam hates employees who fight over credit. I was just trying to keep you off his radar so he would not fire you.” I yanked the jammed paper out of the rollers. “Lily, I just want to do my job.” She sighed softly, like she was talking to a stubborn child. “You are just too young to get it.” By 9:50 AM, Adam and the executives filed into the conference room. The representatives from Vanguard Center were already seated. I stood strictly by the door, my only job was to hand out supplemental files if needed. Lily sat to Adam’s right. As she opened the master binder, the color completely drained from her face. She whipped her head around to look at me. “Willow, where is Appendix C?” I froze. “Appendix C is in the second blue folder.” “It is not here.” She shoved the binder to the center of the mahogany table. A critical page was completely missing. Adam looked up, his eyes turning to ice. “What is going on?” Brenda instantly jumped out of her seat. “Mr. Blackwood, Willow Quinn was solely responsible for assembling these binders.” A dozen heavy, judgmental stares locked onto me. I practically sprinted to the table and flipped through the folder. Appendix C was actually gone. It was the most critical page detailing our entire budget breakdown. I had personally hole-punched it and placed it there last night. Lily’s voice started to tremble with panic. “Willow, I reminded you three separate times yesterday that this specific page could not be left out. How could you make such a massive mistake?” I stared at her. “You never reminded me.” Her eyes instantly welled up with tears. “I know you have a grudge against me over the proposal credit, but a multi-million dollar bidding war is not the place to throw a tantrum.” Adam’s face darkened like a thundercloud. “Willow Quinn.” I looked at him. “Get out,” he ordered. “Mr. Blackwood, I have the backup files on my laptop. I can print them right now and—” “I said, get out.” He did not even raise his voice, but the entire room fell dead silent. Brenda marched over and dug her acrylic nails into my arm. “Have you not embarrassed us enough? Get out.” She practically dragged me into the hallway. Just before the doors closed, I saw Lily pulling up a document on her sleek tablet. “Adam, I kept a backup version on my personal drive just in case. Let’s cast my screen to the projector.” Adam looked at her, his expression softening slightly. “Good work.” The door clicked shut. I stood in the sterile hallway. Red crescent marks were digging into my forearm where Brenda had grabbed me. Zoe sprinted out from her cubicle. “What happened?” Brenda pointed a manicured finger at my face. “She intentionally sabotaged the files. She almost cost us the entire bid.” Zoe’s eyes went wide. “That is impossible. I literally watched Willow put Appendix C into those folders before she clocked out last night.” Brenda sneered. “Who cares what you saw? Adam only cares about results.” I stared at the frosted glass of the conference room. Through the heavy doors, I could hear Adam’s steady, authoritative voice. “Let’s continue.” My existence was so worthless to him that it did not even warrant a five-minute pause. 6 When the meeting wrapped up, Lily was universally hailed as the savior of the day. Adam stood in front of the executive team and announced, “Lily’s crisis management was flawless. The Strategy Department is getting a double bonus this month.” Brenda led the standing ovation. People were looking at me like I was toxic waste. Zoe could not hold it in anymore. “Mr. Blackwood, Appendix C was absolutely in those folders last night. I watched Willow pack them.” Brenda snapped instantly. “Zoe, are you seriously trying to commit perjury for her?” Zoe’s face turned bright red. “It is not perjury. It is the truth.” Lily stood up gracefully. “Let it go, everyone. Willow was probably just overwhelmed and made a careless mistake under pressure. Adam, please do not punish her too harshly.” Adam turned his piercing gaze to me. “Do you have anything to say for yourself?” I held out my phone. “These are the timestamped photos I took of the assembled binders at 10 PM last night. Appendix C is clearly visible. There is also a security camera right outside the conference room. Check the footage between 9:40 and 10:00 AM. Whoever touched those files will be on tape.” Brenda’s face twitched nervously. Lily’s hand hovered over the binders before slowly pulling back. Adam did not even glance at my phone screen. “We are not checking the cameras.” “Why not?” I asked, my voice cracking. He looked at Lily. “Because I trust her.” Those three words hit harder than a physical blow to the face. Lily lowered her head, looking like a fragile angel who had just been deeply wronged. Brenda immediately sucked up to him. “You are totally right, sir. Keeping someone as toxic as Willow around is a massive liability.” Adam looked down at me with pure disdain. “Deduct her monthly bonus. One more incident, and you are packing your desk.” I did not even have a bonus to deduct. Probationary employees did not get bonuses. He did not even know that. I turned around and walked back to my cubicle. Zoe followed me, shaking with pure rage. “Why the hell won’t he check the cameras? He believes whatever garbage Lily feeds him. Is he legally blind?” I booted up my computer. “Stop talking, Zoe.” “You are just going to swallow this?” I re-saved Appendix C onto the shared drive. My voice dropped to a hollow whisper. “I have not bought my mom’s kidney medication for this month yet.” Zoe went completely quiet. 7 At 5:00 PM, my phone buzzed with an automated text from the hospital. My mom’s checkup fees had just increased again. I stared at the glowing screen until my eyes burned. I stood up and walked toward the breakroom to get some water. And then I saw her. The old lady from the alleyway was sitting right in the middle of the corporate lobby. She had changed into a cheap, gray utility jacket. A worn-out canvas bag rested at her feet. She looked completely lost. The front desk receptionist was actively blocking her. “Ma’am, you cannot go upstairs without an appointment.” The old lady replied firmly, “I am looking for Adam Blackwood.” The receptionist scoffed. “Yeah, you and half the city. Stop causing a scene.” I quickly walked over. “Ma’am, what are you doing here?” Her eyes lit up the second she saw me. “Willow! I came to find my grandson.” The receptionist shot me a dirty look. “Willow, you know this crazy lady?” I nodded. “Her phone died the other night. I helped her out.” The receptionist rolled her eyes dramatically. “Then get her out of here before you ruin the company’s image.” The old lady slowly tried to stand up, but her canvas bag slid off her lap. A small plastic pillbox spilled onto the marble floor. I bent down to pick it up. When I saw the medication label and the dosage instructions, my stomach dropped. “Are you feeling okay?” I asked, grabbing her arm. She waved me off. “Just old age. I am fine.” The exact moment those words left her mouth, her entire body collapsed sideways. I lunged and caught her. She gripped my blazer sleeve with a death grip, her other hand clutching her chest. Her lips were turning a terrifying shade of blue. The receptionist screamed and jumped back. “Do not look at me! I did not touch her!” “Call 911!” I screamed. Nobody moved. A crowd of corporate employees formed a circle around us. Some people even pulled out their phones to record. I ripped my phone out of my pocket with one hand and dialed emergency services. “I am at the Blackwood Group headquarters lobby. An elderly woman is having a severe heart attack. Send an ambulance immediately.” The receptionist hissed at me, her voice dripping with venom. “Are you insane? An ambulance parking outside the glass doors is awful PR! Adam is going to lose his mind when he finds out.” I glared at her. “If she dies on this marble floor, that is awful PR.” The ambulance sirens wailed just as the private executive elevator dinged open. Adam and Lily stepped out into the chaotic lobby. Lily gasped, covering her mouth. “What is going on? Why are paramedics here?” Brenda elbowed her way to the front. “Mr. Blackwood! It is Willow! She dragged some homeless woman who collects cardboard into the lobby, and now the woman is having a medical episode. She is causing a massive scene.” Adam’s freezing gaze locked onto me. I was kneeling on the floor, holding the old woman’s wrist to check her pulse while rapidly relaying her symptoms to the paramedics. “Are there any family members present?” the paramedic asked. “We cannot reach them right now,” I said quickly. “I will ride in the ambulance with her.” “Willow Quinn.” Adam’s voice cut through the chaos like a knife. I looked up. “The final round of the Vanguard Plaza bidding war starts in exactly ten minutes,” he said coldly. “The final version of the pitch deck you were assigned to review has not been delivered to the boardroom.” “Mr. Blackwood, she is in critical condition.” Adam glanced at the old woman on the stretcher. His face was carved out of stone. “Hospitals have doctors. Blackwood Group is not a charity shelter.” I clutched the old lady’s spilled pillbox tightly against my chest. “I will ride with her to the ER to sign her in, and I will rush straight back.” Lily stepped forward, her voice soft and full of fake concern. “Willow, this meeting is crucial. You already messed up once today. Do not be dramatic and ruin everything.” I looked down at the old lady. She was slipping out of consciousness, unable to even speak. “Are you coming or not?” the paramedic yelled. “Every second counts with cardiac arrest!” I did not look at Adam again. “I am coming.” As I stepped toward the doors, Adam’s voice echoed behind me. “If you walk out those doors today, do not bother coming back.” My footsteps faltered for a fraction of a second. Zoe was standing in the crowd, tears streaming down her face. “Willow…” “The physical binders are in the blue folder on the left side of my desk,” I told Zoe loudly. “The digital master file is on the shared drive. It is labeled ‘Final_V2’.” Brenda scoffed loudly. “Listen to her giving orders like she owns the place.” I climbed into the back of the ambulance. Right before the heavy doors slammed shut, I saw Adam standing in the pristine lobby, looking absolutely furious. Lily stood practically plastered to his side, whispering something into his ear. He did not look at me again. 8 Outside the emergency operating room, I swiped my debit card for the absolute final time. My bank balance dropped to $37.60. “It is a good thing you got her here when you did,” the ER doctor said, handing me a clipboard. “Five more minutes and she would have been gone. Sign here.” My hands were sweating so badly the pen kept slipping. “I am just a friend. Am I legally allowed to sign for surgery?” The doctor gave me a grim look. “We save the life first. The deposit is paid, you sign as the emergency contact, and we figure out the rest later.” Fifteen grand. I had maxed out every credit card, drained my savings, and taken out micro-loans. My phone kept buzzing with terrifying repayment notifications. I did not dare open them. The red surgical light stayed on for four agonizing hours. I sat on the cold plastic bench in the hallway, still wearing my Blackwood Group employee lanyard. At 7:00 PM, Zoe called me. “Willow, where are you?” “The hospital.” There was a heavy echo in the background. She was hiding in a stairwell. “The bid was a total disaster.” I closed my eyes. “How bad?” “Vanguard’s reps walked out mid-presentation. They said we were wildly unprepared. Adam absolutely detonated in the boardroom.” “Did they not find the files on my desk?” I asked. Zoe cursed under her breath. “They found them. But Brenda swore you purposely did not do a formal handover to sabotage the team. Lily tried to use her ‘backup’ version again, but the pricing metrics were completely blank.” “The master file was on the shared drive.” “The shared drive got wiped.” I sat up completely straight. “Who wiped it?” Zoe lowered her voice to a terrified whisper. “I do not know for sure. But IT said the deletion command came from your employee ID login.” I stared at the glowing red light above the operating room. “I left my computer unlocked when the ambulance arrived.” “Brenda is currently swearing up and down that you deleted the files as revenge against the company,” Zoe said, her voice shaking. “Adam ordered HR to process your termination paperwork tomorrow morning. And…” She choked on her words. “And what?” “He said Blackwood Group is sending a blackball notice to every major corporation in the state. Nobody will ever hire you again.” A nurse pushed a loud metal cart down the hallway. The wheels rattled aggressively against the tile. “I understand,” I said numbly. Zoe panicked. “Why are you so calm?! Willow, he is literally destroying your entire career!” I looked down at the massive hospital receipt in my hand. “The old lady is still in surgery.” Zoe went dead silent for a few seconds before cursing viciously. “Adam Blackwood is a monster.” After I hung up, I walked into the hospital bathroom and splashed freezing water on my face. The girl in the mirror looked like a ghost. The corporate lanyard still hung heavily around her neck. Willow Quinn. Blackwood Group. The letters were printed perfectly straight. I unclipped the lanyard and shoved it into my pocket. At 1:00 AM, the surgical doors finally swung open. “The surgery was a success, but the next 24 hours are critical,” the surgeon said. “Did you manage to reach her family?” I shook my head. The old lady was still unconscious. I slept in a hard plastic chair next to her bed for the rest of the night. When the sun came up, my phone rang aggressively. It was Brenda. I answered it. She started screaming instantly. “Where the hell are you playing dead?! Adam wants you in the building by 9:00 AM sharp.” “I am at the hospital.” “Do you really have the nerve to use that excuse again?” Brenda’s voice was shrill enough to shatter glass. “Do you have any concept of how many millions you cost us yesterday? Adam called an all-hands meeting. You are going to stand on that stage and publicly apologize to the entire company.” “I did not delete the shared drive.” “Who cares if you deleted it?! Your login was used, so you take the fall.” I glanced at the fragile woman hooked up to the monitors. “I cannot leave right now.” Brenda laughed maliciously. “Fine. Do not show up. Adam said if you do not come, he will personally email your termination notice and your sabotage record to the CEO of every partner agency we work with.” I tightened my grip on the phone. “I will be there.” 9 At 9:50 AM, I walked through the glass doors of Blackwood Group. The town hall meeting had already started. Over two hundred executives, directors, and corporate staff were packed into the grand auditorium. The massive projector screen displayed a slide detailing the catastrophic failure of the Vanguard Plaza bid. When I pushed the doors open, every single head turned to look at me. Adam stood on the stage. Lily sat in the front row, looking perfectly poised. Brenda hovered off to the side, vibrating with excitement like she was watching reality TV. Adam picked up the microphone. “Willow Quinn.” I stopped right in the middle of the center aisle. He looked down at me from the stage. “Because you abandoned your post, Blackwood Group lost the Vanguard project. Because you maliciously deleted company data, our crisis management completely failed.” I tilted my chin up. “I never maliciously deleted any data.” Brenda grabbed a mic from the side. “The digital footprint literally has your name on it! Are you still trying to lie?” Lily stood up gracefully, holding her hands together. “Willow, if you just admit what you did, maybe Adam will show you some mercy. We all know you are struggling financially, but poverty is not an excuse to sabotage the company.” I stared right through her. “Lily, who physically removed Appendix C from my desk?” Her soft, angelic expression cracked slightly. “What are you talking about?” “Who used my computer to wipe the shared drive?” Brenda stormed down the aisle and violently snatched my tote bag off my shoulder. “Are you seriously trying to frame Lily now?!” She aggressively dumped the contents of my bag onto an empty chair. The hospital receipt fluttered to the ground. Brenda snatched it up, squinted at it, and burst out laughing. “Fifteen grand for a surgery deposit? Wow, Willow, you really committed to the bit. You forged a fake medical receipt just to dodge getting fired?” I lunged forward to grab it back. She yanked her hand up high, waving it like a trophy. “Look at this, everyone! She claims she left to save a life! Whose life? Some homeless beggar who collects trash? It is absolutely pathetic.” Laughter rippled through the auditorium. People were whispering and shaking their heads. Zoe shot out of her seat in the back row. “Brenda, give her back the receipt!” Brenda slammed the piece of paper onto a desk. “I will give it back to her when she stands on that stage and admits she ruined the Vanguard bid because she was off running personal errands.” Adam slowly walked down the steps from the stage. He stopped right in front of me and picked up the receipt. For a second, I genuinely thought he might look at the hospital stamp and ask a single question. Instead, he glanced at the fifteen-thousand-dollar total, grabbed both ends of the paper, and ripped it straight down the middle. He ripped it again. And again. The confetti-like pieces drifted down and landed on my shoes. “Willow Quinn,” Adam said, his voice void of any human emotion. “Blackwood Group pays employees to work, not to play savior on company time.” I stared at the shredded paper on the carpet. “Mr. Blackwood. That was a human life.” “I run a corporation, not a church.” He unclipped my employee badge from his hand and tossed it onto the table. “You are officially terminated.” The auditorium was dead silent. He continued, his voice ringing through the room. “You are permanently banned from every Blackwood subsidiary. I will personally make the phone calls to ensure our partner agencies never hire you.” Zoe screamed from the back. “Mr. Blackwood, you cannot do this to her!” Adam did not even look in her direction. “Anyone who defends her will be packing their bags with her.” Zoe’s coworkers practically tackled her, covering her mouth to keep her quiet. Lily sighed softly, looking at me with absolute pity. “Just leave, Willow. Stop humiliating yourself.” I slowly crouched down and began picking up the shredded pieces of the receipt. Brenda backed away, acting like I was infectious. “Still picking up trash? Think of that fifteen grand as tuition for a life lesson. Stop pretending to be a saint.” I clenched the shredded paper tightly in my fist and stood up. Adam gestured coldly to the back. “Security.” Two massive security guards marched down the aisle. I looked Adam dead in the eyes. “Adam Blackwood. I hope you never regret this.” He let out a short, dismissive breath, like he was swatting a fly. “Take her out.” The guards grabbed my arms and hauled me out of the auditorium. As I was dragged backward, Lily’s sickly sweet voice drifted through the closing doors. “Adam, please do not let this ruin your day. I will work overtime to rebuild the data files.” “Thank you, Lily,” Adam replied. “I appreciate it.” The doors slammed shut.

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After the yacht went down, I was stranded on a nightmare of an island for three years. I had my fingernails ripped out. I was forced to eat raw meat. I was broken and trained like a wild animal. Until the day a red flare shot into the sky. I ran for my life, desperate for rescue. But when I reached the beach, I watched the tribal chief wipe the blood-red war paint from his face. Underneath was the face of my fiancé, Joseph. “Congratulations. You passed the wife-training trial.” “From now on, you are going to be a perfect, obedient wife.” Joseph pulled my violently trembling body into his arms. His eyes were red, his voice as sickeningly gentle as it used to be when we were dating. And the “Chief’s Wife,” the woman who used to hold my hands down and laugh while she ripped my nails out one by one? That was Valerie. My best friend. “You were too rebellious before, Scarlett. Too spoiled. Your temper was unacceptable.” Back home, my parents smiled warmly, showering me with praise. “Exactly. This is wonderful. Look how docile she is now.” 1 Pop. A red flare exploded over the ocean while I was squatting by a rocky pit, smashing animal bones with a rock. I was making soup for the Chief. If the bones weren’t crushed fine enough, I would be beaten tonight. I froze for a split second, dropped the heavy stone, and bolted toward the water. My right leg had been mangled by a wild dog during my first year fighting for scraps. I ran with a heavy, pathetic limp. Jagged reefs sliced open the soles of my feet. Low-hanging branches tore at my arms. I didn’t care. Rescue was here. I truly believed rescue was here. I stumbled and collapsed onto the sandy beach, dragging my body toward the pristine white yacht anchored in the shallows. “Help me. Please, God, help me.” A man stood on the deck. Tall, heavily muscled, his face smeared with bloody tribal paint, wearing a crown of feathers. The cannibal Chief. My entire body locked up. A second later, my knees gave out and I slammed hard into the wet sand. “Master. I wasn’t running away.” “I was looking for firewood. I swear I wasn’t running.” I wrapped my arms around my head and pressed my forehead brutally into the sand. My voice was a broken, terrified squeak. A soft sigh floated down from above me. “Scarlett.” Perfect, unaccented English. My head snapped up. The Chief slowly pulled off his carved wooden mask. He wiped the greasepaint from his jaw, revealing a face I knew better than my own. Joseph. My billionaire fiancé. My lips trembled uncontrollably. It took me agonizing seconds to choke out a single word. “…Joseph?” He stepped off the boat and crouched in front of me. Just like he had done a thousand times before we got engaged, he reached out and gently stroked my hair. “It’s me.” “Don’t be scared. It’s over.” I stared at him. My brain felt like it was being cleaved in half with an axe. A familiar giggle echoed behind him. The “Chief’s Wife”, the woman who always pinned my wrists while iron pliers tore my nails from their beds, took off her bone mask. Valerie. My ride-or-die best friend. “Scarlett, why do you look like that?” Valerie smiled, crouching down next to me. “You should be thrilled. Joseph went through so much trouble to set this up for you.” I stared at her. A deafening ringing filled my ears. Joseph pulled me into his chest. His voice was velvet. “Scarlett, you used to fight with me constantly. You threatened to cancel the wedding. You kept saying you wanted to build your own startup.” “You were too proud. Too independent. You had no idea that a marriage can’t survive on just love.” “I had to use extreme measures to teach you how to submit. To teach you how to rely on me. I had to rip those thorns right out of you.” His hand rubbed my spine, soothing me like a spooked stray dog. “I know you suffered out here.” “But if I didn’t do this, you would never have learned how to be a proper wife.” “It’s all good now.” “You finally know your place.” My blood turned to ice. My stomach violently rebelled, and I threw up right there in the sand. Valerie immediately jumped back in disgust. But Joseph didn’t flinch. He used an expensive pocket square to wipe the bile from my lips, his eyes practically swimming with tender affection. “Alright, let’s go home.” “Your parents are waiting for you.” That was the exact moment I realized the truth. These past three years weren’t a shipwreck. They weren’t an act of God. It was a calculated, custom-built slaughterhouse designed just for me. 2 The day we flew back, the Montgomery and Vance families threw a massive welcome home gala. Joseph wanted the entire elite social circle to know he had brought his missing bride back from the dead. The ballroom was blindingly bright, dripping in crystal and designer perfume. I wore a high-necked, long-sleeved gown to hide the mosaic of scars covering my body. I wore lace gloves to hide the missing fingernails. Joseph held my hand tightly, parading me through the crowd to soak up the compliments. “Joseph is a saint. Searching for three years and finally bringing her home.” “Look at her. She went through hell, but she looks so much softer and tamer now.” “Now that is exactly how a bride should act.” Joseph soaked it all in, thoroughly satisfied. He squeezed my hand and whispered, “See? Everyone loves the new you.” I kept my head down. I didn’t say a word. Right then, a waiter wheeled out a cart for table-side flambé steaks. The moment the liquor hit the hot pan, a massive fireball erupted into the air. I let out a blood-curdling scream. My legs buckled and I dropped to the floor, scrambling on all fours to hide under the nearest banquet table. “Don’t burn me! I’ll eat it! I’ll eat the raw meat! Please don’t burn me!” I dragged the tablecloth down with me. Expensive wine glasses and plates shattered across the marble floor. The entire ballroom went dead silent. Joseph’s face tightened. He immediately reached down to pull me up. But the second I saw his hand approaching, it was like looking at a glowing red branding iron. I curled into a tight ball, wrapping my arms defensively over my head. “I’m sorry. I won’t run. Please don’t use the fire.” Joseph froze. He dropped to one knee, scooped me out from under the table, and started whispering in my ear. “Scarlett, it’s okay. We aren’t on the island anymore. As long as you are a good girl, no one is going to burn you.” He held me tight and flashed an apologetic smile to the stunned billionaires. “I am so sorry, everyone. Scarlett just got back and is still adjusting. I am going to nurse her back to health.” That night, Joseph brought me back to the master suite of his penthouse. The moment the door clicked shut, he wrapped his arms around me from behind. His warm lips pressed against the nape of my neck. “Scarlett, tonight we can finally sleep in a real bed.” His hands trailed down to my waist, carrying a very obvious, suffocating implication. My entire body turned into a block of cement. A familiar, horrifying tremor shot up my spine. His expensive cologne suddenly warped in my nostrils, smelling exactly like rotting fish and cheap tribal face paint. On the island, whenever Valerie whipped me with thorny vines until I was half-dead, the masked “Chief” would step out of the shadows. He would stroke my bleeding back exactly like this. And then, ignoring my agonizing screams and my torn flesh, he would force himself onto me in the mud. He called that brutal violation a “Master’s reward” for surviving the day. “Don’t touch me!” I screamed, violently shoving him away. I scrambled backward, falling off the bed and slamming into the corner of the room, dry heaving. Joseph’s hands hovered in the air. His face turned thunderous. But eventually, he just sighed and tossed a towel at me. “I know you need time. I won’t force you tonight.” He turned on his heel and went to the guest room. In the middle of the night, footsteps echoed in the hallway. It was just a maid going to the bathroom. But to my broken brain, it sounded exactly like the island guards doing their nightly patrols. I threw myself off the mattress, crawled into the deepest, darkest corner of the walk-in closet, and curled into a tight ball. I dug my ruined nails into the floorboards, too terrified to even breathe. On the island, the only way to survive the night without being spotted by wild animals or the savages was to sleep pressed against the freezing stone walls. Right before dawn, Joseph opened the bedroom door. He stared at the empty bed. Then, he found me huddled like a beaten stray dog in his closet. “Why are you sleeping on the floor?” he asked, frowning, reaching out to pick me up. I flinched violently and clamped my hands over the back of my neck. “Master, I wasn’t being lazy. I’ll get back to work right now.” Joseph’s hand stopped. A complicated emotion flickered in his eyes, but he aggressively scooped me up and dumped me back onto the mattress. “Scarlett, you are my wife now. You don’t have to do manual labor anymore.” The next morning, his private doctor came to do a full checkup. The blood tests confirmed it. I was two months pregnant. Joseph looked stunned for a second, then his face lit up with absolute euphoria. He crouched in front of my chair, gripping both my hands like they were a sacred treasure. “Scarlett, this is incredible. A baby is exactly what we need to anchor you. From now on, we are going to be a perfect family.” I yanked my hands out of his grip. My voice shook. “I don’t want it.” Joseph paused. His tone remained frighteningly patient. “Don’t be difficult. Your temper has gotten so much better lately. Having a baby will only help you settle down.” I stared at him, and the tears just spilled over. “Joseph, that whole year. It was you. Every night you…” I had survived on my own for two years in that jungle. In the third year, the fake tribe captured me and turned me into a slave. I couldn’t even finish the sentence. He acted like he didn’t understand the horror in my eyes. He just reached out and wiped my tears away. “Scarlett, it’s in the past. If you didn’t go through that, you never would have realized how important having a home is.” “As long as you understand the value of family now, it was all worth it.” I stopped crying instantly. So that was it. In his eyes, letting Valerie pull my nails out, raping me when my mind was shattered, training me like a literal farm animal… all of that was just “teaching me how to be a wife.” 3 Joseph drove me to the Montgomery estate. He said since we were having a baby, my parents needed to know. I hadn’t seen them in three years. I used to think that even if the whole world sided with Joseph, my own mother and father would protect me. When they saw me walk through the door, neither of them hugged me. My mother’s eyes dropped straight to my stomach. She frowned in disgust. “Pregnant before the wedding? Do you have any idea how bad this makes our family look?” Joseph stepped in smoothly. “Mrs. Montgomery, Scarlett’s situation is unique. This child is—” “I was asking her,” my mother snapped, cutting him off. She glared at me. “Three years fighting for your life, and instead of learning some grace, you come back knocked up? Haven’t you humiliated the Montgomery name enough?” My throat tightened. “Mom. It wasn’t like that. I was forced—” “Enough!” my father roared, slamming his hand on the mahogany coffee table. “Joseph already filled us in on everything.” “Do you even remember how you used to act?” “Arrogant, selfish, flipping out over nothing. You refused to listen to anyone. Threatening to break off the engagement every time Joseph tried to guide you. You were a walking PR nightmare. What man would put up with that?” “But look at you now. You swallowed some bitter pills, and you finally know how to bow your head.” I stared at the floor. All I ever wanted was to avoid an arranged marriage and build my own tech company before settling down. My mother chimed in. Her voice was quieter, but the words cut infinitely deeper. “Look at you now. You’re so quiet. So polite.” “If you had just acted like this from the start, none of this drama would have happened.” I stood frozen, my fingers going numb. “But Mom. They weren’t saving me on that island.” “Valerie used pliers to rip my fingernails out. When I tried to run, they broke my leg. And at night. At night Joseph would hold me down and…” I choked on my own words. Thick, hot tears streamed down my face. My mother just rolled her eyes. “Stop it. Talking about things like that in front of us is incredibly vulgar. And even if something did happen, that is private business between an engaged couple.” “Besides, if you really fought back, who could actually force you to do anything?” My father scoffed. “Exactly. The truth is, you just never respected the institution of marriage. Now that Joseph has finally put a leash on you, you’re throwing a tantrum.” Those words scrambled my brain like a blender. Flashbacks of the island hit me like physical blows. Valerie pressing red-hot wire against my calf, forcing me to swallow chunks of bloody, raw meat. And Joseph, sitting just a few feet away in a throne made of animal skins, watching with dead, cold eyes. As long as I refused to spread my legs and beg for him, Valerie’s torture never stopped. Every time I screamed, Joseph would just sigh and say, “She still hasn’t learned.” To stay alive, I had to crawl through the mud to his boots and beg him for mercy. And now, my own flesh and blood were asking me why I didn’t just fight back. I looked at the people who raised me, completely incapable of forming a single word. My mother stepped closer. Her tone shifted into something sickeningly comforting. “Listen to your mother.” “The most important thing for a woman is to secure a good marriage.” “Joseph spent a massive fortune and so much energy to fix your personality. That proves he truly loves you.” “With the way you used to behave, he is the only man on earth who would still want you.” “Now that you’re pregnant, stop playing the victim. Marry him, keep your mouth shut, and be a respectable society wife. Stop embarrassing us.” They knew. They knew everything. But they didn’t care about the barbaric, inhuman torture I endured. They only cared that the wild stallion had finally been broken into a docile, breeding mare. Joseph walked over and wrapped a protective arm around my shaking shoulders. “Scarlett, they just want what’s best for you. Look, we have a baby on the way. It’s time to settle down.” That night, in my childhood bedroom, I started bleeding heavily. The doctor said the emotional trauma was causing a threatened miscarriage. Joseph sat by the bed, his eyes bloodshot from stress. “Scarlett, don’t be scared. The baby will make it. Just please, for my sake and the baby’s, stop fighting me. Just behave. Please?” I lay flat on the mattress and slowly turned my head to face the blank wall. In that exact second, the very last shred of hope I had for humanity evaporated into thin air. 4 The night of the Joseph Corporation’s annual charity gala, he personally picked out my dress. A flowing white gown with a high, loose empire waist, perfectly concealing the slight bump in my stomach. As he locked a diamond necklace around my throat, his voice was as patient as a man talking to a toddler. “Scarlett, don’t be nervous tonight. After this, the whole world is going to know that you are finally fixed.” He loved using that word. “Fixed.” As if the old me, the woman who had pride and dignity, was a diseased monster that needed putting down. He held my hand tight the entire evening. He paraded me around, telling investors that while I was still recovering from the shock of the island, I was healing beautifully. Men praised me for being so gentle. Women whispered that Joseph truly knew how to tame a wild heart. Whenever he heard those comments, Joseph just smiled proudly. Halfway through the night, he led me to the grand piano in the center of the room. “Scarlett, play something for us. Mariage d’Amour. It used to be your favorite.” My entire body locked up. My fingers started to violently shake. The eight fingernails that had been ripped out had only just started growing a paper-thin layer of new keratin. Pressing them against solid piano keys would be agonizing. Joseph noticed my hesitation. He leaned down and whispered in my ear. “Don’t be scared. The only way to forget the past is to push through the pain.” He said it with such absolute conviction. As if forcing me to press my most agonizing physical wounds into my most traumatic memories was an act of profound love. I sat down. I pressed the first key. A sharp, blinding pain shot straight into my finger bones. All the color drained from my face, but I kept playing. Halfway through the song, blood started seeping from my nail beds. Little red droplets smeared across the pristine ivory keys. Joseph stood right beside the bench. His eyes were actually shining with pride. Like a strict teacher watching a slow student finally ace a test. When the song ended, the room erupted in applause. Joseph pulled me up and kissed my forehead. “Good girl.” Right then, a man in a tailored suit walked over, holding a cocktail. “Congratulations, Joseph.” I recognized that voice instantly. On the island, he was one of the fake savages. He was the one who loved making me bark like a dog for fresh water. They were all in on it. Every single one of them. The man looked at me, a nasty smirk on his face. “Miss Montgomery, care to cheers?” I kept my head bowed and offered my glass of sparkling cider. He deliberately tilted his wrist, dumping his entire martini straight into my face. Ice cold alcohol dripped from my eyelashes and soaked my hair. Without a second of hesitation, I raised my right hand and slapped myself across the face as hard as I could. Smack. I swung again. Smack. “I’m sorry. I was clumsy. I failed.” I chanted the apology mechanically. It was a reflex burned directly into my nervous system. On the island, any mistake required immediate, violent self-punishment. If I hesitated, I would be thrown into the underground water cage. The entire ballroom gasped in horror. Even the man who spilled the drink took a step back, visibly spooked. Joseph’s face went pale. He grabbed my wrists, real panic bleeding into his voice. “Scarlett, stop! No one is mad at you!” But my body wouldn’t stop violently trembling. I collapsed against his chest, and suddenly, a sharp, stabbing cramp ripped through my lower abdomen. Hot, thick liquid began pooling down my thighs. Joseph looked down, saw the dark red blood staining the hem of my white dress, and his composure completely shattered. “A doctor! Get a fucking doctor right now!” The gala devolved into pure chaos. Valerie sprinted over in her designer heels, screaming, “Why is she bleeding?!” I couldn’t stand. Joseph scooped me up into his arms, shaking like a leaf. “It’s going to be fine. The baby will be fine…” But just as he turned toward the exit, the massive projector screen at the back of the stage went completely black. A few seconds later, it flickered back to life. The footage that began to play caused several women in the room to scream in absolute terror. Joseph froze mid-step. He stared up at the giant screen, and for the very first time, I saw genuine, unadulterated terror shatter his arrogant face. And in that exact moment of distraction, I used every ounce of adrenaline left in my dying body. I grabbed a jagged, broken shard of a champagne flute from the nearest table, and violently jammed it directly into my own jugular. “Scarlett—!!” Joseph let out a sound that didn’t even sound human. I looked at him, gave him a bloody, triumphant smile, and sliced deep. Hot blood sprayed like a fountain across his immaculate white shirt. In the final second before my vision faded to black, looking at his completely destroyed, hysterical face, I felt nothing but the pure, intoxicating euphoria of revenge. Die. Once I was dead, I would never have to be his “perfect wife” ever again.

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The day Terry dragged me into the operating room, I clutched my prenatal scan and wept. “Please, spare our baby. She’s innocent.” He sneered, gripping my chin, “You, a murderer, dare to bear my child?” Later, he locked me in the basement for three years. I forgot how to speak, but I remembered humming a tuneless song to the iron bars every night. Until he knelt at the door, eyes bloodshot, clutching the truth in trembling hands: “Autumn…” I tilted my head, licking my grimy fingers, giggling softly: “The butterfly flew away, and so did the baby, you know.” Soon, everyone in the city knew: Terry Sterling had lost his mind. He watched over a woman who no longer recognized him, whispering endearments again and again. Meanwhile, in the penthouse suite, I cradled a faded doll, gazing out the window: “Shhh, the moon is going home.” 1 The basement door creaked open. I curled into a ball, shrinking deeper into the shadows. Someone was here, but it wasn’t the mute who brought my meals. “Autumn…” It was Terry’s voice. He lifted me into his arms. My bones jutted against him; he seemed to stiffen. He carried me outside. The sky was a dull, leaden gray. This was the first time I’d seen the outside world in three years. The first time I’d seen the sky since Amelia’s suicide in my bedroom. “The moon…” I murmured, “The moon is going home.” The arms holding me tightened abruptly. Terry whispered, “Who is the moon?” I lowered my head, gently stroking my abdomen, where only thin skin clung to bone. I offered a faint smile: “She’s my little moon. I named her. She’s calling me, can you hear?” Terry’s steps faltered. I felt his entire body trembling. He cupped my face, studying me for a long moment, his lips parting and closing several times before he spoke: “It’s alright… Autumn, we’ll have other children.” His eyes were red, intensely red. How strange, could he cry too? I looked at his bloodshot eyes, but stubbornly shook my head: “I only want my little moon. She’s afraid of the dark, I need to be with her.” Terry’s head snapped up, turning to the person in the white coat beside him. The doctor adjusted his glasses: “Mr. Sterling, Mrs. Sterling has endured prolonged confinement and severe emotional trauma, leading to significant cognitive regression and stress disorder. Her current intellectual capacity is roughly at a childlike stage.” Childlike? I blinked. My little moon, if she had been born, would be blinking now too. I was taken to a vast house, ablaze with the blinding light of crystal chandeliers. “It hurts… it hurts so much!” I covered my eyes, burying my face in my knees. “Turn them off! Turn off all the lights! Now!” Terry’s voice roared, laced with panic and chaos. Instantly, darkness enveloped me. Only a faint, hazy light filtered in from outside the window. He came over, drawing me into his embrace. “Let me see, Autumn, let me see your eyes.” His voice was low, trying to soothe me. He gently forced my head up. My face was wet; were those tears? I didn’t know. His forehead gently touched mine, our breaths mingling. I smelled his unfamiliar, expensive scent, mixed with a faint trace of blood – was it mine? Or someone else’s? “I’m sorry,” he rasped. Then, he carried me to the bathroom to bathe. I looked at my reflection in the mirror, gaunt and skeletal, my shoulder blades seeming to strain against my skin, eager to break free. Terry held me, sobbing softly, warm liquid trailing down my shoulder. During the bath, the tub was filled with little yellow rubber ducks. I picked one up, squeezed it, and it let out a “quack.” I laughed, squeezing it repeatedly, making it “quack-quack-quack.” Terry knelt by the tub, sleeves rolled up, carefully using a washcloth to clean me. His movements were clumsy, splashing water everywhere. He watched me play with the duck, his eyes a tumultuous sea of emotions I couldn’t decipher. After the bath, he wrapped me in a thick towel and carried me to the large vanity mirror. The woman in the mirror was emaciated, her wet hair plastered to a pallid face, eyes wide and vacant. He picked up the hairdryer, his long fingers threading through my damp hair. I stared blankly at his profile in the mirror; he was still so handsome, yet shrouded in a heavy shadow. My gaze suddenly fell upon my wrist. The towel slipped slightly, revealing a bony wrist crisscrossed with several grotesque scars. When had these appeared? I couldn’t remember, only that they hurt, more than hunger, more than the cold. “Ugly…” I flinched, trying to hide my wrist, “So ugly…” Terry’s movements stilled. He followed my gaze, his body instantly rigid. The hairdryer hummed, hot air blowing on a small patch of skin, slowly growing warm. He abruptly switched off the hairdryer. The bathroom fell silent. He gripped my wrist, looking at the scars for a very long time. “Not ugly,” he said suddenly. Then, he lowered his head, his cool lips, incredibly gently, pressing a kiss onto the deepest of those scars. A damp, warm sensation registered, but I flinched as if branded, trying to yank my hand away with force. My reaction seemed to wound him. He lifted his eyes, seeing my frightened look, and suddenly asked, “Would you… would you not be afraid of me if I were just like you?” I didn’t understand. I just stared at him in fear. He released my hand, straightened up, his gaze sweeping across the spacious vanity. Then, he picked up a silver eyebrow razor. The blade reflected a faint glimmer of light. The first stroke, across his pale wrist, a thin red line quickly emerged, widening. The second, overlapping. Blood beads welled up, merging, then flowing down in gushes, dripping onto the marble counter. The third… He didn’t stop, his expression eerily calm. The fresh scent of blood diffused into the air. I watched, numbly, as the crimson liquid snaked down. Then, I laughed. Blood still flowed from Terry’s wrist, but he smiled. “Autumn, we’re the same now.” Then, he stepped forward, pulling me into his arms with all his strength. He held me so tightly, I could barely breathe. His face was buried in my damp hair, hot liquid falling onto the skin of my neck. “I’ll atone,” he whispered. “Please, let me atone.” 2 Terry canceled all his work, dedicating himself to my 24/7 care. The room was filled with things I used to love. I was still afraid of light; even during the day, the heavy curtains had to be drawn. The slightest sound made me flinch. Ever since leaving the basement, I had nightmares every night. The cold operating table, the blinding lights, and the icy pain in my lower abdomen. “Autumn, wake up.” Terry took my hand. I clutched his sleeve tightly, crying out incoherently, “Terry… save me…” His body jolted, then he hugged me fiercely: “I’m here! Autumn, I’m here! I’ll save you, I’ll always be here!” He seemed incredibly happy, so happy he was almost crying. I snapped awake. My eyes adjusted to the darkness, seeing his face so close. My mind was blank. I pulled away from him, grabbed the vase from the bedside table, and threw it at him. He didn’t dodge; it hit his head with a dull thud. The vase didn’t break, rolling onto the carpet. He froze, motionless. Blood streamed from his temple, across his eyebrow, dripping onto his pajamas. The door burst open, and the people waiting outside rushed in, staring blankly at the scene. Terry seemed to finally feel the pain. He lifted a hand to wipe at it, saw the blood, but didn’t even glance at the newcomers, his eyes fixed on me. “Get out,” he ordered. “Everyone, out.” They looked at him, then at me, before retreating and closing the door. We were alone again. The scent of blood filled the room. I was still trembling, but I glared at him without restraint. He took a towel from the bathroom and pressed it to his head; the white towel quickly turned crimson. “Don’t be afraid,” he said, his voice low, as if coaxing a child, “I’ll be right back.” He turned and walked out, his steps a little unsteady. The door wasn’t fully closed; I heard the doctor outside gasp in horror: “Mr. Sterling, your wound needs stitches. Your wife’s condition is too dangerous; she’s exhibiting aggressive behavior. She needs to be admitted to a specialized psychiatric hospital…” “No,” Terry cut him off, his voice sounding tired, “Treat it here.” “But…” “I said, no.” His voice deepened, “She’s not going anywhere. She stays here.” After a pause, he added: “I won’t let her leave my side again.” 3 The doctor treated Terry’s wound in the next room. “Mr. Sterling,” the doctor couldn’t help but speak, “Mrs. Sterling’s condition, if I may be frank, doesn’t seem to be merely simple psychological trauma. Was there… anything else that happened back then?” Terry leaned back in the chair, eyes closed. The wound on his forehead throbbed. “It was me. All my fault.” The doctor’s hand paused; he looked up at him. After the wound was dressed, he led the doctor back to my room. I was huddled in the corner of the bed, hugging my knees. Terry walked over, reaching to touch my shoulder, but I flinched violently, recoiling. His hand stopped mid-air, slowly retracting, and he nodded at the doctor. The doctor approached to examine me. His brow furrowed deeper and deeper. Finally, he put away his stethoscope, glanced at Terry, who stood by, and shook his head. “Mr. Sterling, Mrs. Sterling’s condition… is not optimistic.” “Severe malnutrition; this isn’t recent. On her body… there are multiple old contusions and soft tissue injuries, some already scarred. Mentally, her stress response is extremely strong, with clear signs of post-traumatic disorder. She exhibits severe fear and wariness towards the outside world, especially towards you.” With each sentence, Terry’s face grew paler. By the end, he was almost devoid of color. “In summary,” the doctor sighed, “Mrs. Sterling seems to have been in an… abusive environment for a long time. This has greatly exacerbated her psychological trauma, and recovery will be very difficult.” “Abuse?” Terry repeated the word. The doctor nodded, saying no more, leaving recommendations for nutritional supplements and nerve-calming medication, then departed. The room was deathly silent. Terry stood there for a long time before slowly walking to the bedside. I burrowed deeper into the covers. He stopped a step away, not coming closer, only looking at me with that almost shattered gaze for a while, then turned and walked out. Outside the door, the old butler stood with bowed head. “Alfred,” Terry began, “Three years ago, I had her confined to the basement. What were my instructions?” The butler’s back bent even lower: “You ordered to keep her well, not to let her leave, and to deliver meals on time.” “And what else?” “…Nothing else, sir.” “I never said she could be starved, or beaten, or left with those scars on her body, did I?” Terry’s voice wasn’t loud, but it was suffocating. Cold sweat beaded on the butler’s forehead: “Sir, I… I followed your orders. Meals, cleaning… As for anything else, I, I truly had no knowledge! It must have been those scoundrels beneath me, seeing Mrs.—seeing Miss Hayes—fallen from grace, misinterpreting your intentions, and acting so brazenly! My supervision was lax, I…” “Alfred,” Terry cut him off, rubbing his temples wearily, “You’ve been with my family for thirty years.” The butler fell silent, bowing his head even lower. “You’re dismissed,” Terry said. “Out of respect for the past thirty years, your pension will be provided. Give me the list of everyone who handled the basement, everyone who touched her, now, immediately.” The butler trembled, head snapping up: “Sir!” “The list.” Terry looked at him, the last trace of warmth vanishing from his eyes, “Don’t make me say it a third time.” Hours later, night had fallen thick and dark. Behind the Sterling estate, the heavy iron door of the disused old tool basement was tightly shut. Inside, muffled, jarring thuds and short, stifled cries of agony could be faintly heard, intermittently, for a long time. Finally, the iron door was pushed open from within. Terry emerged. His white shirt was splattered with blood. He walked slowly back to the main house, went upstairs, and entered the bathroom. Turning on the faucet, he put his hands under the stream, scrubbing vigorously. The bloodstains blurred in the water, fading, flowing down the drain. He looked up, meeting his reflection in the wall mirror. The man in the mirror was pale, a bandage on his temple, lips tightly pressed. He gazed at that unfamiliar self. For a long time. Suddenly, he balled his fist and slammed it hard into the mirror. “CRASH—!” The deafening sound was piercing in the night. The entire mirror shattered instantly, countless fragments reflecting countless cold, pale, blood-stained, and frantic versions of his face. He stood with his hands hanging, the knuckles scraped raw by the sharp shards, blood mixing with water, dripping little by little. 4 Under Terry’s care, my body slowly began to recover. The wound on his wrist, which hadn’t been properly treated, had become red and inflamed in some places. The doctor repeatedly urged him to go to the hospital. “No, she can’t be left alone.” In the end, the doctor had no choice but to clean and dress his wound on the spot. He always bore his injuries, carefully feeding me. I ate slowly, and he never rushed me; a single meal would take a long time. He seemed not to need sleep. When I woke up in the middle of the night, I would always see him sitting on the sofa nearby, working on his laptop. He was quiet when he worked, only the soft click of the keyboard. Sometimes, if I merely shifted, he would immediately look up, only turning back to his screen once he was sure I was asleep again. Once, likely due to an urgent company matter, he had to take a video call beside my bed. Watching the faces flicker on the screen, hearing those unfamiliar voices, an unprovoked anxiety surged through me. Before I even realized it, I had knocked the laptop from his lap onto the floor. The computer hit the carpet, and the video call abruptly cut off. Terry froze for a moment, then immediately stood up. “It’s okay, it’s okay,” “Don’t be afraid, Autumn, it’s my fault. I shouldn’t have made noise here.” He patiently comforted me until my fingers, gripping the blanket, slowly relaxed. Then he rose, picked up the laptop, glanced at it, and set it aside. 5 It was a beautiful autumn afternoon, with bright sunshine. Terry went downstairs to handle some business. Suddenly, the door was pushed open, and a well-dressed, exquisitely made-up woman walked in, followed by two maids. She was Terry’s mother, Evelyn. Her gaze fell upon my loose nightgown, my dull, lifeless hair, and finally on my still-dazed face, her brow immediately furrowing, her distaste undisguised. “Terry, look at yourself! What a mess you’ve become!” “Neglecting the company, spending all your time with a…” She didn’t finish her sentence. “Ah—!!!” A shriek ripped uncontrollably from my throat. I grabbed everything within reach—the bedside lamp, a pillow—and threw them at her with all my might! “Get out! Get away! Don’t come near me!!” Evelyn staggered back, her face ashen with fury: “Insolent! She’s truly insane! Guards! Someone! Hold this madwoman down! Call Crestwood Asylum immediately! Get her out of here!” The two maids hesitated, then moved forward, trying to grab me as I shrieked and thrashed, throwing things everywhere. “Everyone, stop right there!” Terry rushed in, fiercely shielding me behind him. “Anyone dares to touch her, just try me.” “Terry! What kind of attitude is that?! Look at her! Look at the state she’s in now! She’s a lunatic! A murderer! She killed your sister!” Evelyn trembled with rage. “She didn’t!” Terry’s veins pulsed on his forehead, “We both know the truth! You’re not innocent in what happened back then!” Evelyn’s face paled, then she grew even more enraged: “You… you’re abandoning your dead sister for this madwoman? You won’t even listen to your own mother? She has to go to the asylum! She’s a menace if she stays here!” “I said, no.” “No one is taking her.” “Mom, listen carefully. From now on, anyone who suggests sending her away is my enemy. That includes you.” Evelyn was stunned by the ruthlessness in his eyes, she stumbled back a step, staring at him in disbelief. “You… you’re going to spend your life with this… this murderer who killed your sister? Have you lost your mind too?!” Terry didn’t answer. After a long moment, Evelyn seemed to finally accept the reality, turning and storming out of the room.

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1 At the end of the college mixer, only the campus heartthrob, myself, and a very drunk girl remained in the lounge. The remaining crowd, eager to play matchmaker, proposed a final game: whoever guessed John’s favorite fruit would be paired up with him for the upcoming week-long camping trip. I pretended not to care, stepping back to let the other girl choose first. When I saw her holding a half-burnt cigarette, lazily pointing her finger toward the bowl of mangoes, a quiet wave of relief washed over me. John was severely allergic to mangoes. Everyone in our circle knew this, and all eyes instantly turned to me. The room erupted into eager teasing. “The golden boy and the campus sweetheart, it’s a match made in heaven!” My best friend leaned in, whispering her congratulations. “Four years of a secret crush, and you finally get your happy ending.” But in the next second, John’s smooth, quiet voice broke the noise. “What a coincidence.” He opened his hand, turning his gaze toward the drunk girl with an unfamiliar tenderness. “My choice just happened to be mango, too.” The girl was still deeply intoxicated. Without warning, she swung her hand and slapped John across the face. “So you chose mango, big deal. Why the hell are you standing so close to me?” The slap echoed sharply through the quiet room. The entire lounge went dead silent. After all, John was the golden boy of our department, someone who had casually turned down major modeling scouts in his sophomore year. A bright red handprint was already blooming on his pale, handsome cheek. One of his fraternity brothers rushed forward to de-escalate. “John, don’t take it to heart. Roxy goes to the local community college down the road. She smokes, she drinks, she races, she’s a wild card. She’s not targeting you, she’s just completely wasted.” Someone else tried to nudge me toward him, giving John a subtle wink. “Amy is still waiting for you. Come on, we agreed this mixer was to get everyone paired up…” “Roxy,” John said, ignoring them entirely. He leaned down slightly, speaking to the girl in a soft, coaxing tone usually reserved for a child. “The others suggested that whoever guessed my favorite fruit would be my partner for the trip.” “You chose mango.” “And as it turns out, mango is my favorite.” He stood in the dim light of the lounge, wearing a crisp white shirt and dark trousers. His handsome features were calm, almost detached, but the tight line of his jaw betrayed his inner tension. He swallowed hard, his throat bobbing. After a long pause, his voice sounded strained and slightly hoarse. “So, starting tonight, you are my girlfriend.” I stood frozen in place. I stared at his profile, a sudden, heavy confusion pressing on my chest. I couldn’t stop myself from asking the one question on my mind. “John… aren’t you allergic to mangoes?” The moment the words escaped my lips, a pang of regret hit me. Asking that now made it sound as though I were demanding to know why he hadn’t chosen me. I quickly averted my eyes, clearing my throat to regain a sense of composure. “I mean, it’s not really a secret. Most people in our year know about it.” Gemma, my best friend, immediately caught my drift and chimed in to support me. John finally looked away from the drunk girl, his gaze cool and indifferent as he glanced at me. “I’m not allergic anymore. Is it a crime to like mangoes now?” He looked back at Roxy, his tone softening. “Besides, I chose my fruit and put it in my pocket a minute before either of you made your choice. Since we agreed to play, we should all follow the rules of the game.” Roxy blinked, her eyes clearing slightly as she seemed to sober up. She reached up, pinching John’s cheek with a lazy smile. “Alright then, boyfriend.” I swallowed the bitter taste rising in my throat. Forcing a polite smile, I turned on my heel. “Of course. That means for tomorrow’s couples’ rowing race, I’ll just form a solo team.” It wasn’t until we reached the parking lot that Gemma finally let out her frustration, grabbing my arm. “If I had known, I would have told you to choose mango! You’ve had a crush on him for four years, and this was your chance…” “It wouldn’t have mattered,” I replied quietly, a dull ache settling behind my eyes. “Earlier, John’s jacket was draped over my bag. When I lifted it to get my things, I noticed the pockets were incredibly heavy.” Under Gemma’s shocked expression, I took a deep breath, a bitter smile touching my lips. “He had put one of every single fruit from the table into his pockets.” He didn’t suddenly develop a love for mangoes. He had simply decided that whatever Roxy chose, he would match it. After Gemma helped me into a cab, she headed back to the lounge. With graduation just around the corner, our senior class had organized this week-long camping trip specifically to bring people together. The rule of the trip was simple: if a couple felt a spark after seven days, they stayed together; if not, they parted ways without any hard feelings. Gemma had gone to great lengths to get paired up with her crush, even buying drinks for the entire organizing committee to secure her slot. I couldn’t let my own disappointment ruin her week. By the time I unlocked the door to my apartment, my rational mind had slowly returned. Lying on the sofa of my quiet, comfortable living room, a dark thought crept into my mind. Was this some kind of cosmic retribution? Because of the secret, less-than-respectable way I used to make money when I was desperate, was I now destined to never find real love? During my freshman year, when I was at my poorest, I had taken on a very unusual gig. At first, it was simple: ten thousand dollars just to deliver a slap. But as the weeks went by, the anonymous client’s requests escalated. He wanted me to pin him down, to choke him, and to hit him. The pay rose to fifty thousand dollars per session. I wanted to refuse. But the money was simply too life-changing for a girl from a rural town who was living with distant relatives and counting every penny. And so, my double life began. By day, I was the quiet, hardworking model student on campus. By night, I let my hair down, wore a thick black mask, and went to a secluded apartment to fulfill a stranger’s dark impulses. This arrangement lasted for over six months, allowing me to save enough to buy this very apartment and secure my college tuition. Just as I was trying to figure out how to gently end the arrangement, the client vanished. His profile on the encrypted app went dark and never lit up again. Worried that something had happened to him, I went to the apartment one last time. The place was empty, but on the threshold of the door, I found a single, heavy black-and-gold bead. It had rained heavily that day. And just like that, my strange connection with a man I had never truly seen came to an abrupt end. I shook my head, trying to banish the memories that still made my cheeks burn. I reminded myself that whatever happened in that room was a mutual transaction. I hadn’t done anything wrong. Besides, there was no rule stating that because you love someone in secret, they have to love you back. John was free to choose whoever he wanted. I just needed to learn to let him go. But despite my practical thoughts, I spent the night crying, flipping through the old journal filled with his name. In the end, I still couldn’t bring myself to throw it away. The next morning, everyone gathered at the departure point looking polished and excited. I was the only one wearing oversized sunglasses that covered half my face. One of our classmates teased me as we waited. “Amy, what kind of guy are you actually into? So many people have tried to ask you out over the last four years, but you’ve never given any of them a chance.” Before I could think of a polite answer, a loud laugh from the parking lot drew everyone’s attention. Roxy, her hair dyed a vibrant red, was skipping alongside John, clinging tightly to his arm. “Matching tattoos!” she cooed, tugging at his sleeve. “Don’t you think that would be so cool?” John carried his duffel bag over one shoulder, looking relaxed and completely devoted. He smiled down at her. “Only if you promise me that when this week is over, we don’t break up.” Roxy gave a playful pout and pulled a pack of cigarettes from her bag. Under the watchful eyes of our classmates, John quietly produced a lighter and shielded the flame as he lit it for her. Whispers immediately broke out around me. “Is he serious? It was bad enough that she crashed the party last night, but is he really going to let her smoke right by the bus?” “She’s a mess. I don’t get what John sees in her. Everyone was trying to set him up with Amy last night. They actually make sense together, both top of the class, both decent people…” I adjusted my sunglasses, preparing to board the bus. But Gemma couldn’t keep quiet. She called out toward Roxy, her voice sharp. “There’s no smoking near the vehicles!” The rest of our classmates quickly muttered their agreement, their expressions turning disapproving as they looked at John. The atmosphere grew incredibly tense. Roxy tilted her head, her eyes narrowing as she walked straight toward Gemma. “And who the hell are you to tell me what to do?” Looking at the glowing tip of her cigarette, a cold memory surfaced. I remembered the days when girls like her used to corner me in the alleyways behind my high school. Roxy had spent time in juvenile detention when she was fifteen. She was the kind of person who didn’t care about consequences. I stepped in front of Gemma, blocking Roxy’s path. “She’s right. Smoking near a commercial bus is a safety hazard. If you don’t understand basic rules, I can easily call the campus security to explain them to you.” Roxy seemed surprised that I, usually the quietest person in the room, was standing up to her. “We’re not taking the bus anyway,” John interrupted coldly, his gaze sliding over me with an unfamiliar aloofness. “This is still a public parking lot. I don’t think the smoking ban applies to your personal space, Amy.” His voice was dripping with sarcasm. It felt entirely foreign. Over the past four years, we had co-hosted dozens of university events together, and he had always been nothing but gentle and polite. Under the hot morning sun, I knew my face must have gone pale. “Wow,” Roxy sneered, stepping closer and blowing a thick cloud of smoke directly into my face. “And here I thought you had actually grown a spine. You’re still the same pretty, useless coward you were in high school.” With John watching, she flicked the half-lit cigarette bud directly at my bare legs. I jumped back to avoid the hot ash. Roxy burst into a loud laugh, grabbing John’s hand and pulling him toward a waiting rideshare car in the opposite direction. My phone buzzed with a text from my building’s manager just as I settled into my seat on the bus. Do you still want the cardboard box left outside your door? My fingers hovered over the screen. I thought of the journals I had spent the night reading, and the small birthday gifts John had given me over the years. This morning, I had hesitated, leaving the box in the hallway instead of throwing it into the chute. But remembering his cold eyes in the parking lot, I didn’t hesitate any longer. No, it’s just trash. Please throw it away for me. Thank you. A multi-car accident on the mountain pass delayed the buses for several hours. By the time we reached the lake, the sun had already set. The planned afternoon rowing race had to be postponed to the following morning, but the group remained in high spirits, gathering around the fire pits for a late-night barbecue. Throughout the evening, I made a conscious effort to keep my distance from John and Roxy. But as I was carrying a tray of grilled vegetables back to our table, Roxy stepped directly into my path, her chin tilted up. “Hey. I heard you submitted a resume to Vanguard Corp.” I didn’t want to engage. I tried to step around her. “Excuse me.” “Withdraw it,” Roxy said, grabbing my wrist with surprising force. A mocking smile played on her lips. “You do know that Vanguard is owned by John’s family, right?” I pulled my arm back, annoyed. “Vanguard is one of the top marketing agencies in the city. Half our graduating class applied there. Are you saying none of us are allowed to work?” I gave her a polite, dismissive smile. “I’ve already received my offer, and my start date is next month. I won’t be withdrawing anything.” “Don’t act so innocent!” Roxy’s voice rose, drawing the attention of the surrounding tables. “Are you really that desperate to stay close to John?” Seeing that she had an audience, her tone became more theatrical. “Everyone has been calling you two the perfect couple for years, so I get why my presence upsets you. But the truth is, he never looked at you once in four years. He chose me after knowing me for a few days.” “If you want to prove you’re not trying to steal him, you’ll stay away from his family’s company.” A hot flush of embarrassment crept up my neck. Just as I opened my mouth to respond, Roxy’s heel seemed to catch on the gravel. With a dramatic gasp, she tumbled backward, crashing straight into one of the side tables. John was by her side in an instant, dropping the plates he was holding. He pushed past me, his movements fluid and urgent as he caught Roxy before she hit the ground. Once he saw she was unhurt, he let out a visible breath of relief. “She pushed me!” Roxy cried, clinging to his shirt. “I told you she hated me!” “It’s alright,” John whispered, gently brushing her hair away from her face before turning to face me. He stood up, looking down at me in silence for a long moment. “It wasn’t me,” I said, looking down at my own leg, which had been scraped against the edge of a chair during the scurry. “I didn’t…” “I know you didn’t,” John said, his voice entirely calm. I looked up, surprised by his words, only to hear him continue. “But the fact that Roxy is willing to hurt herself just to frame you shows how much your presence distresses her.” He paused, his eyes falling to the scratch on my leg. He seemed to hesitate for a fraction of a second before his voice turned cold again. “I know Vanguard was your dream job, Amy. But…” He looked away. “I’ve already called my father. Your job offer at Vanguard has been rescinded.” Before I could even process the words, John turned back to Roxy, lifting her up. A bitter laugh escaped my lips. I didn’t care about keeping up appearances anymore. I limped forward, fully intending to slap him across the face. But as I drew closer, I heard him speaking to Roxy in a low, gentle tone. “If something is bothering you, just tell me. Don’t hurt yourself to get my attention, alright?” He took off his light jacket, draping it over her shoulders. Under the dim lights of the patio, as his shirt lifted slightly with the movement, I caught sight of his midriff. Right there, on his abdominal muscles, was a small, distinct dark mole. It was in the exact same spot, the exact same size, as the one on the man from five years ago. My breath caught in my throat. Then, John reached into his pocket and pulled out a heavy beaded bracelet made of black and gold beads, missing a single piece. He placed it in Roxy’s hand. “Back then, my family found out about my condition and forced me to go abroad for treatment before I could say goodbye to you. I left that single bead at the door, hoping it would lead me back to you one day.” “I was lucky. During our last session, you dropped your high school name tag at the apartment. That’s how I knew your name was Roxy, and how I finally found you.” Roxy looked at the bracelet, a flicker of confusion crossing her face. Gemma, who had rushed over to defend me, stopped dead in her tracks when she saw the beads in John’s hand. She looked at the bracelet, then turned her eyes to me, her voice filled with surprise. “Wait… Amy, isn’t the bead you keep in your velvet box exactly like the ones on that bracelet?”

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1 The company was conducting a strict audit on workplace relationships, and my boyfriend’s name was on the review list. He hurried over to my desk, his voice a frantic whisper. “Make sure absolutely no one finds out about us. If they catch us, one of us will have to pack our bags. You don’t want to lose your job, do you?” He had no idea that I already had a safety net. If push came to shove, I could simply reveal that I was the Chairman’s daughter. Who would dare fire us then? But the very next morning, the audit results were posted. I was about to call in a favor to clear his name, but when I reached the bulletin board, I froze. On the official list of couples caught violating company policy, the name next to his was not mine. … The corridor was packed with employees, all murmuring and pointing at the board. “My god, Marcus and Audrey? They kept that incredibly quiet!” “No wonder they were always staying late and leaving together. It makes perfect sense now.” “Since HR posted it, it’s a hundred percent official.” Everyone was enjoying the gossip, but I stood there, cold to the bone, feeling like the biggest fool in the room. I turned around, determined to confront Marcus. As soon as I raised my head, I saw him rushing toward me. Before I could say a word, he grabbed my wrist and pulled me into the emergency stairwell. I stared at him, suppressing my fury and heartbreak, waiting for a logical explanation. Instead, he looked at me and issued a flat command. “Vivian, you need to go to the department manager right now and clear this up.” My voice was icy. “Clear what up?” He spoke as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “Tell the manager that HR made a mistake. Tell her that you are my actual girlfriend, not Audrey. After you tell her, hand in your resignation and leave.” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. A tremor of pure rage shook my voice. “On what grounds? The bulletin board clearly states that Audrey is your girlfriend! Why should I take the blame, and why should I be the one to leave?” He didn’t show a single hint of remorse. “Audrey just graduated. She has no experience, and if she gets fired for a policy violation, she’ll never find another decent job. You’re different. Your sales numbers are excellent and your resume is stellar. Even if you resign, you’ll land on your feet in no time.” With those words, the last lingering trace of affection I had for him vanished. From beginning to end, he hadn’t considered my feelings for a second. His entire mind was consumed with protecting Audrey, making sure she was safe and secure. I looked him in the eye, my voice trembling with indignation. “Let’s put the resignation aside for a moment. Don’t you think you owe me an explanation about what exactly is going on between you and Audrey?” He knitted his brows, his tone turning dismissive. “There’s nothing to explain. The system made a mistake. It’s a glitch.” A bitter laugh escaped my throat. “A glitch? The company doesn’t put names on that board unless they have undeniable proof of intimacy. Why on earth would they randomly name Audrey as your partner?” Marcus’s face turned white, and then he flared up in anger, trying to cover his guilt. “Why is your mind so toxic? Must you always assume the worst?” “You were the ones caught behaving inappropriately,” I countered, refusing to back down. “Instead of apologizing to me, your first instinct is to force me out of the company to clear her path.” “If you two are as innocent as you claim, why are you risking your own career to shield her?” My words hit their mark, leaving him completely speechless. He let out a frustrated growl. “We’ve been together for two whole years! Do you really have this little trust in me?” I watched his defensive, angry face, and my heart turned entirely cold. I knew him well enough to recognize that he only became this hysterical when the truth was laid bare. The betrayal was real, clear and undeniable. Without a trace of hesitation, I spoke in a quiet, firm voice. “Don’t try to use our two years together to guilt me. I am not going to the manager, and I am not resigning. The person leaving this company won’t be me.” “I’d like to see just how deep your devotion goes, and which one of you will volunteer to walk away first.” Marcus glared at me, his eyes burning with resentment. “Vivian! If you don’t clear this up today, don’t you dare come crawling back to me. I will never speak to you again!” I didn’t waste another second. I pushed the heavy door open and walked out. At the morning meeting the following day, the department manager, Evelyn, stood at the podium. Her eyes immediately locked onto me. “Vivian, stand up.” I stood, a sudden sense of foreboding tightening in my chest. “Following an internal review,” Evelyn announced coldly, “the company has decided to terminate your employment effective immediately due to ethical misconduct.” My ears rang, but I forced my voice to remain steady. “On what grounds are you firing me?” Evelyn’s expression was blank. “We have received a formal statement indicating that you intentionally instructed your boyfriend, Marcus, to pursue Audrey in order to use her as a scapegoat for your own workplace relationship.” “And where is your proof?” My voice shook with a mix of anger and disbelief. “The couple on the bulletin board was caught in a clear compromise. Now you’re trying to pin the blame on me?” I stared directly at her, and the conference room erupted into frantic whispers. Marcus suddenly stood up, looking like the victim of a grave injustice. “I am the proof!” he called out, his voice echoing in the room. “When the audit began, I wanted to resign to protect Vivian. But she refused. She repeatedly ordered me to get close to Audrey, even threatening to break up with me if I didn’t comply.” “I thought it was strange at the time, but now I see she wanted a shield. Vivian, how could you be so malicious? I must have been blind to stay with you for two years!” Audrey stood up next, her eyes rimmed with red. “Vivian, I always looked up to you like an older sister. How could you use me to save yourself?” She looked entirely fragile and betrayed. The whispers in the room turned into a wave of quiet condemnation. “I can’t believe Vivian would do something like that. She’s so manipulative.” “She always seemed so capable, but to do something this low behind the scenes…” “Poor Audrey, she’s just a new hire and got dragged into this mess.” The accusations came from every corner of the room. I looked at Zach. I was the one who had hired him, guiding him through his first projects and taking him out for dinner when clients yelled at him. Yet, his voice was currently the loudest in the chorus of disapproval. I looked at Brenda. Last year, when her low performance put her on the chopping block, I had handed her a major account to save her job. Now, she was looking at me with nothing but disgust. The other junior colleagues, whom I had mentored from their internship days, simply kept their heads down, refusing to meet my eyes. I ignored the rest of the room and looked back at Evelyn. “The company policy states that when a relationship is discovered, the team votes on who should leave. Why am I being terminated directly without a vote?” Evelyn let out a dry, dismissive laugh. “Because we just conducted the vote. It was a unanimous decision for you to leave.” I stared at the familiar faces around me, completely stunned. For two years, I had gone out of my way to help almost everyone in this room. Yet, in my moment of need, not a single person was willing to speak for me. “Why?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper. “What did I ever do to any of you?” Marcus stepped forward, his tone dripping with mockery. “You really want to know why? Because you’re the top sales representative, and you think that makes you better than everyone else. You’ve been ordering us around for years, and we’re tired of it!” “I was trying to teach you how to handle clients so we could all reach our targets!” I argued, my anger finally breaking through. “Nobody wanted your charity! Stop acting like a saint!” he barked back. I took a deep, steadying breath, letting my gaze sweep over the room one last time. “Fine. If this is what you’ve decided, I’ll go.” I picked up my notebook from the table, speaking clearly. “I will remember today. I look forward to our next meeting.” I walked back to my desk and began packing my personal belongings into a cardboard box. Before I could finish, the sharp click of high heels approached. Audrey stood beside my desk, looking down at me with an unmistakable air of triumph. “I’m so sorry, sister,” she whispered, her voice too low for the others to hear. “But you lost.” “Your boyfriend is mine, and your job belongs to me now, too.” I kept packing, ignoring her completely. Seeing that she couldn’t bait me, she leaned down, her lips brushing my ear. “Marcus was tired of you a long time ago. He complained to me every day about how domineering and rigid you are. He said you have absolutely no warmth. He wanted to break up months ago, but he just didn’t want to deal with the drama.” My hands paused for a fraction of a second. Domineering? When he was pursuing me, he had praised my independence and strong-willed nature, calling me a breath of fresh air compared to the clingy women he usually met. Now, the very qualities he claimed to admire were the reasons he despised me. I pushed the hurt aside, picked up my box, and walked toward the exit. At the end of the hallway, Marcus was waiting. He took a quick step forward, reaching out to take the heavy box from my arms. “Let me help you carry that to your car.” I looked at him, my eyes cold. “Get lost.” The gentle expression on his face instantly vanished, replaced by an ugly scowl. “Don’t act so high and mighty! Fine, we’re done! I’ve had enough of your terrible attitude anyway!” “You’re a controlling, cold woman who doesn’t know how to treat a partner! I’m the only guy who would have tolerated you for two years! Any other man would have dumped you on day one! With your personality, you’re destined to end up completely alone!” I watched his bitter tirade in silence. This was the man I had loved for two years, the man I had planned to protect by revealing my identity to my father. And now, he was throwing dirt on my name to make himself feel better about his own betrayal. I didn’t waste my breath arguing. I walked past him and left the building. When I arrived home, my father was sitting on the sofa reading the financial section. He looked up, surprised. “Back early today?” “I was fired,” I said quietly. The paper slipped from his hands, clattering onto the coffee table. He stared at me in disbelief. “Who dared fire you? Didn’t they know who you are?” “No one knew,” I replied, shaking my head. After a brief silence, I looked at him. “Dad, about taking over the family business. I’ve made up my mind. I’ll take the position starting next Monday.” My father’s face relaxed into a proud, satisfied smile. “Excellent. I’ve been waiting to hear those words for a long time.” By the time Monday morning arrived, I was ready. I walked through the lobby of the corporate tower. Near the elevators, I ran into Audrey and Marcus. Audrey stopped in her tracks when she saw me, then immediately nudged Marcus with her elbow. Marcus looked at me, his lip curling into a sneer. “Well, look who it is. Trying to pull off cheap knock-offs to look professional?” “Did you come back to beg for your job back after getting kicked out by a unanimous vote?” Audrey covered her mouth, let out a high-pitched laugh. “Vivian, if you had just swallowed your pride and apologized earlier, you wouldn’t have been humiliated like this.” She smirked. “Though, I suppose it’s not too late. If you ask me nicely, I might speak to Evelyn and see if we can get you an entry-level internship so you can pay your rent.” I ignored them, walking toward the secure gates of the office. Before I could scan my pass, Evelyn rushed out from her office, blocking my way. She looked me up and down, her voice sharp. “What are you doing here? This is private property!” “The new Group President is arriving for an inspection today! The entire executive team is waiting! We don’t have time to deal with disgruntled ex-employees!” “You’ve been terminated. Leave immediately before I have security throw you out!” She raised her voice, calling out to the lobby. “Security! Get over here and escort this woman out of the building!” She turned back to me, her tone mocking. “If I were you, I’d leave on my own. Even if you get down on your knees and beg, I am not hiring you back!” Evelyn’s voice grew louder, bordering on a screech. “Security! Where are you? Get her out of here!” Just then, the heavy glass doors of the main lobby opened. Arthur Henderson, the Chief Executive Secretary of Kensington Enterprises, walked in with a measured, confident stride. Evelyn’s hostile expression vanished instantly, replaced by a fawning, obsequious smile as she rushed to greet him. “Mr. Henderson! You’re here! Is the new President on their way? We are fully prepared to receive them!” Marcus and Audrey also stepped forward, bowing politely. “Good morning, Mr. Henderson! Thank you for coming!” The rest of the staff lined up, eager to make a good impression. But Arthur Henderson ignored them completely. He walked straight through the crowd of executives, stopping right in front of me. The entire lobby went dead silent. In the next second, Mr. Henderson bowed deeply to me. “Good morning, Ms. Kensington. I am terribly sorry for the delay. The traffic on the bridge was awful, and I’ve kept you waiting.” The smiles on everyone’s faces froze instantly, their eyes widening in complete shock. “Who… who did you call her?”

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I was supposed to be the happiest bride in the world. Instead, my groom died on our wedding day. For an entire month, I drowned in my own tears. In a haze of grief, I accidentally dialed his old iCloud account on FaceTime. He rarely used it when he was alive, but leaving voicemails there had become my pathetic way of coping with the silence. It rang twice. Then, the video actually connected. The face that appeared on the screen did not belong to my dead fiancé, Blake. It was a little boy, maybe seven or eight years old. “Hi there! Are you looking for my dad?” The boy had bright, expressive eyes. He proudly held up an elegant, handwritten card to the camera. “Look what my dad wrote! ‘Happy 2033, baby. Happy seventh anniversary.’ My dad just ran out to get my mom’s gift!” I froze. 2033? My brain stalled, then violently rebooted. The person on the other end of this call was seven years in the future. I forced down the bitter shock clawing at my throat. I tried to rationalize it. Maybe the carrier recycled the number. Maybe it was just a bizarre glitch. I managed a stiff, painful smile. “I hope your mom and dad are very happy.” But the next second, the boy excitedly spun around, waving the phone. The camera panned across the wall behind him. Hanging right in the center was a massive, framed wedding portrait. The moment it came into focus, the blood in my veins turned to ice. The woman in the white dress was Audrey. My ride-or-die best friend. And the man standing next to her had Blake’s face. I stared unblinking at the screen, my chest heaving. It wasn’t a lookalike. Even the tiny mole under his left eye was perfectly captured in the high-resolution print. Blake was not dead. Seven years from now, he wasn’t just alive. He was married to Audrey. Why would they lie to me? A deafening ringing filled my ears. My hands started to shake uncontrollably. I pulled up Audrey’s text thread on my other phone. Our last conversation was from a month ago. I had texted her, bursting with excitement, to tell her I was getting married. She replied with a long voice memo. Her tone had been thick with melancholic regret. “Stella, I am so happy for you. I just landed in Europe. I’m helping my first love sort out some messy business. I’m so sorry, but I won’t be able to make it to your wedding.” I had felt so bad for her at the time. I knew Audrey had a first love she could never get over. She used to get blackout drunk and cry over him. I even comforted her. “If you love him that much, go win him back.” She had laughed bitterly. “I dumped him because I was petty. I made too many mistakes. He’s literally about to get married. He would never forgive me.” Looking back on it now, the way she looked at me that day wasn’t regret. It was victory. “He came to say goodbye,” she had told me later. “He said he was tying the knot. I couldn’t hold back. I hugged him and told him I was done running. I told him, ‘You took ninety-nine steps toward me. I’ll take the last one.’” So her first love, the man who was about to get married… was Blake. My hands were freezing. I turned around and tore into the cardboard box of Blake’s belongings I had just packed away. At the bottom, buried inside a vintage leather cigar box, I found an old Polaroid. I had never seen it before. It was Blake and Audrey in high school. Audrey had her arms wrapped tightly around his neck, and they were smiling brilliantly at the camera. They had been together all along. When Blake and I first started dating, Audrey constantly talked trash about him. She said he had a terrible temper. She said he was selfish and incapable of empathy. I thought she was just being protective of me. Now the ugly truth stared me in the face. They were toxic exes. They resented each other, couldn’t let each other go, and used me as a pawn in their twisted game of jealousy. What was I to them? Just collateral damage? A tool to trigger their reunion? Another memory hit me like a physical blow. Six months ago, Blake came back from a “business trip” in Europe. I noticed deep, red scratch marks on his neck. When I asked about them, his eyes darted away, but a smug, lingering smirk played on his lips. “A stray cat in London,” he had said. “Claws were incredibly sharp.” I believed him. Now I knew exactly who left those marks. “Miss? Are you okay? Are you crying?” The boy’s voice drifted from the phone, pulling me out of the nightmare. I looked up at his face. This was Blake and Audrey’s son. He had Blake’s eyes and Audrey’s mouth. I swallowed the metallic taste of blood in my throat and forced my voice to work. “Hey, buddy. Could you tell me a little bit about your parents? I think I might know them.” The boy tilted his head. “You know my mom and dad?” I nodded. “Are your parents Blake and Audrey? We went to college together.” The boy’s eyes lit up with pure joy. “Oh wow! Then do you know Stella?” I froze. Stella. That was my name. I dug my fingernails into my palms, forcing my voice to remain completely steady. “Why do you ask about her? Is she someone special?” The boy looked down, fiddling with a plastic toy, his voice dropping to a whisper. “She was a really good friend of my mom and dad. But she died seven years ago.” “Died?” I repeated, the word tasting like ash. “Yeah. They tell me stories about her all the time. Every year, they go to the cemetery and cry in front of her grave. They say they are so, so sorry and that they regret everything.” I felt like I had been plunged into an ice bath. Seven years ago. That meant 2026. That meant this year. Blake fakes his death, betrays me with Audrey, and then I die? My entire body trembled with rage and terror. I clenched my jaw. “How did she die?” The boy shook his head. “Dad won’t let me ask. Miss, did you know her?” I dodged the question. “Do your parents love each other a lot?” The boy nodded enthusiastically, his bubbly energy returning instantly. “My dad is obsessed with my mom!” He started listing off their perfect moments like he was reciting a fairy tale. “When Mom was pregnant with me, she craved those artisan donuts from the bakery all the way across town at midnight. Dad didn’t even blink. He drove an hour just to get them, and he brought them back in a heated box so they were still warm.” “Mom hates the rain. So Dad hired an architect to build this massive custom glass conservatory in our backyard. Now, when it storms, Mom can sit inside surrounded by flowers and not a single drop touches her.” “Oh, and one time Mom accidentally broke this cheap plastic hair claw she had since she was a teenager. She cried for hours. Dad tracked down the original manufacturer and paid a ton of money to have it perfectly restored. He keeps it locked in his safe now!” Every word the kid spoke drove the knife deeper into my ribs. I thought about how Blake treated me. Once, I was burning up with a 103-degree fever in the middle of the night. I called him, begging him to come over. He told me he was too busy with a pitch deck and told me to just drink some water and go back to sleep. I found out later that Audrey had gotten blackout drunk at a club that night, and Blake had spent hours driving around the city to pick her up. I always dreamed of buying a house with a backyard. He shot it down immediately, calling it a total waste of money and completely impractical. Yet he turned around and built a luxury glass conservatory for Audrey. And that hair claw. I recognized it. Audrey bought it at a dollar store in high school. But the leather wallet I spent three sleepless nights hand-stitching for Blake’s birthday? He tossed it in the back of his desk drawer, and a month later, threw it in the trash because it was “taking up space.” “I don’t really use stuff like this,” he had told me. “It looks cheap.” The camera shifted again, giving me another glimpse of that massive wedding portrait. Seeing their faces side-by-side, another memory surfaced. Sophomore year of college. I was practically glowing when I introduced my handsome new boyfriend to my best friend. We were sitting at a four-top table in the dining hall. I was holding Blake’s hand. Audrey sat across from us. I was so blinded by love that I entirely missed the toxic undercurrent flowing between them. Audrey had “accidentally” knocked her water glass over, spilling it all over Blake’s pristine white button-down. Blake was a notorious germaphobe. Usually, if someone even brushed against him, he would go home to change. But that day, he just stared at Audrey. He didn’t lose his temper. He even picked up a napkin and gently wiped the water off the table in front of her. I was so naive. I actually thought he was just trying extra hard to be polite to my best friend. Looking back, the signs were blindingly obvious. The boy shoved the phone closer to his face. “Look, Miss! My parents even have a shared TikTok account! It has all their videos!” The screen got close enough for me to read the handle. @QueenAudrey I grabbed my other phone. My hands were shaking so badly I could barely type the letters into the search bar. The profile popped up immediately. I tapped into the account. The very first video was uploaded way back in high school. The quality was grainy. It was Blake and Audrey in their school uniforms, running across the football field, holding hands in the back row of a classroom. I scrolled down. Suddenly, the uploads stopped. There was a massive three-year gap. The exact three years Blake and I were together. Then, exactly two months after Blake’s “death”, the uploads resumed. The comeback video featured Blake on the deck of a luxury yacht, down on one knee, slipping a massive diamond ring onto Audrey’s finger. The caption read: After all the detours, I’m so glad it was always you. I scrolled mechanically. Video after video. The comments section was a mix of congratulations and pure vitriol from people who knew the truth. One comment stood out. Wait, wasn’t Blake engaged to Stella? Why is he with her best friend? Absolute garbage humans. Right below it, pinned to the top, was a reply from Blake’s personal account. Audrey is the only woman I have ever loved. Everyone else was just a mistake while I figured things out. In a love triangle, the one who isn’t loved is the real homewrecker. The one who isn’t loved is the real homewrecker. I bit the inside of my cheek so hard I tasted copper. For three years, I wasn’t his fiancé. I was his trial run. A placeholder while he figured out his own toxic feelings. I kept scrolling. They went snowboarding in the Alps. Scuba diving in the Maldives. Skydiving over Dubai. In every video, Audrey laughed like she owned the world, and Blake looked at her with a sickening level of devotion. And me? During those three years, I worked three different part-time jobs to help fund Blake’s tech startup. To save up enough money to buy him a tailored suit for his first investor meeting, I ate instant ramen for a month straight. Then I noticed a link pinned in the bio. It was titled Confessions. It linked out to an anonymous blog post formatted like a short story. But my gut told me it was about me. I clicked it. It detailed the tragic end of a character named “S”. It described the events that were supposed to happen in my timeline, just a few months from now. In the story, S discovers the fake death. She tracks them down and demands answers. In their twisted perspective, S was the crazy stalker who lost her mind. So they retaliated. They completely destroyed her career. When S’s mother went to Blake’s corporate office to beg for mercy, she was run over by a sports car driven by one of Blake’s rich frat brothers. Her legs were permanently crushed. The diary read: Her mother didn’t survive the surgery. S went completely insane. The final entry described a stormy night. S stepped off the edge of a 28th-floor balcony. The concluding sentence read: She died, and we were finally free. But sometimes, looking back, we wonder if she really deserved to die. I stared at the glowing screen as hot tears spilled over my eyelashes and dripped onto my knuckles. “Miss? Why are you crying again? Are you okay?” The boy’s worried voice brought me back. I wiped my face aggressively with the back of my hand and forced a wide smile. “I’m totally fine. Just got some dust in my eye.” I took a deep breath. “Hey, when are your mom and dad getting back?” “Dad is just picking up a custom necklace for Mom. He’ll be back any minute. Mom is pregnant with my baby sister, so the doctor said she has to stay on bed rest in her room.” Pregnant again. A perfect family of four. Living a fairy-tale life built directly on top of my mother’s crushed bones and my shattered skull. I gripped the edge of the table to stop my body from trembling. “Hey, buddy. When your dad gets back, could you use this phone to call me back on FaceTime? I really want to give him a surprise.” The boy beamed. “Okay! I promise!” I smiled at him and ended the call. The second the screen went black, my bedroom door opened. My mom walked in, carrying a thermos of hot soup. Her eyes were still red from crying over my dead fiancé. Looking at my mother, standing there alive, healthy, and walking on two functioning legs… I lunged forward, wrapped my arms around her waist, and sobbed hysterically. My mom thought the grief of losing Blake was finally breaking me. She rubbed my back, whispering soothing words. “It’s okay, Stella. Let it out. He’s gone, but you have to keep living. You have to look forward.” I buried my face in her shoulder, my tears soaking her sweater. “Mom. I don’t love him anymore.” I made a vow right there in the dark. This time, I would absolutely destroy anyone who tried to touch my family. After my mom left the room, I wiped my face and picked up my phone. I dialed Audrey’s number. It rang three times before she picked up. Audrey’s lazy, satisfied drawl came through the speaker. “Hey, Stella. What’s up?” “Audrey, Blake is gone. I’m sitting in my apartment alone and I just feel so lost.” Audrey let out a soft, breathy chuckle. “Oh, Stella… I probably won’t be back in the States for a while. Actually, I forgot to tell you. I just eloped with my first love. We signed the papers today.” She immediately launched into a sickening monologue, bragging about her perfect life. “He treats me like absolute royalty. Whatever I want, I get.” After she finished gloating, she threw me some fake sympathy. “Stella, you really shouldn’t be too heartbroken. Honestly? Blake wasn’t even that great of a guy. He was cold, calculated, and totally selfish. Maybe it’s a blessing he died early, so he couldn’t drag you down for the rest of your life.” Listening to her viciously insult the man she was currently sleeping with, I felt a wave of pure nausea. “Is that right?” I asked, my voice dropping to a dead, icy calm. “Who exactly is this first love of yours? Where are you guys right now?” Audrey’s voice stiffened. She clearly hadn’t expected me to press for details. “Just… a guy. You don’t know him.” Right then, I heard the rustling of bedsheets through the receiver. “What are you doing?” I tightened my grip on the phone. “Nothing… just resting,” Audrey’s voice suddenly turned breathy and soft. Then, a horribly familiar male voice bled through the background audio. “Audrey, you’re distracted. Someone needs to be punished.” It was Blake. My blood ran cold. My stomach churned with disgust. “Stella, I’ll come visit you when I’m back. I gotta go!” Before the call abruptly disconnected, I clearly heard the crash of ocean waves and the cry of seagulls. I knew exactly where they were. The famous cliffside oceanfront properties just outside the city limits. Blake had once brought me architectural blueprints for a villa out there. He promised me, looking me dead in the eyes, that it would be our dream home. Except he built it for her. And on the exact day we were supposed to get married, the day he supposedly died in a car crash on his way to the venue… he was out there marrying her. I gripped my phone until my knuckles turned white. Perfect. I grabbed my car keys, walked out the door, and got into my car. By the time I reached the cliffside villa, the sun had fully set. The sprawling manicured lawn was blindingly bright, lined with hundreds of fairy lights and imported white roses. An incredibly lavish, intimate outdoor wedding was in full swing. I stood completely still in the shadows, watching the stage. Blake was wearing a perfectly tailored white tuxedo, gazing deeply into Audrey’s eyes, delivering a tear-jerking speech. “Audrey, I finally made you my wife.” His voice actually cracked with emotion. “I have waited a lifetime for this exact moment.” A massive LED screen behind them played a slideshow of their relationship. I recognized every single photo. But in every group shot, my face and body had been violently cropped out. To them, I was never a fiancé or a best friend. I was an annoying background extra they finally managed to edit out of their movie. In this three-person tragedy, I was the punchline. The crowd erupted into applause. Right as the officiant grabbed the microphone to announce the ring exchange, I stepped out of the shadows and walked straight down the center of the white floral aisle. “Blake!” Every single head snapped toward me. “What the hell are you doing here?!” Blake’s eyes went wide with pure, unadulterated panic. I walked right up to the altar and let out a sharp, mocking laugh. I reached into my designer purse and pulled out the crisp, official document. I slammed it against his chest. “I’m just here to attend my legal husband’s wedding.” The marriage license fluttered to the ground, the official state seal catching the stage lights. Our names and faces were printed clearly in black and white. The wealthy guests gasped. A tidal wave of frantic whispering swept through the crowd. Audrey’s face turned beet red. Tears instantly welled up in her eyes. She rushed forward, playing the victim perfectly. “No! Stella, please let me explain! I was the one Blake loved first! I’m not the homewrecker! You were the one who forced your way between us!” I raised my right hand and slapped her across the face with everything I had. She screamed, stumbling backward in her massive designer gown and collapsing onto the grass. “That slap is for years of your disgusting, manipulative gaslighting!” Blake snapped out of his shock. He lunged forward, shielding Audrey behind his body, and raised his hand. A heavy, stinging slap landed square on my cheek. “Are you insane, Stella?!” He pointed a shaking finger at my face, his eyes totally unhinged. “Security! Drag this crazy bitch off my property!” Three massive men in black suits rushed the stage to grab me. But before they could touch me, a team of uniformed police officers stormed up the aisle. “Which one of you is Blake?” The lead officer stepped onto the stage, flashing his badge. “We received a verified tip with hard evidence. You are under arrest for forging a death certificate, committing massive life insurance fraud, and bigamy. Turn around and put your hands behind your back.” At that exact second, my phone started vibrating violently in my pocket. The distinctive FaceTime ringtone pierced through the chaotic silence of the wedding. I reached into my pocket and pulled it out. On the screen, the seven-year-old boy’s face was flashing. The future was calling.

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1 Before her death, my mother left me three matches. She said they could pull me through time’s currents. I used the first at a corporate gala when Dominic was drugged. I stayed close, kept him from the spiked drinks, and ensured no other woman stood a chance. Our marriage became flawless, life moving exactly as it should. I let my guard down, becoming the envied Mrs. Blackwell. Then came the crash. Dominic shielded me with his body, taking the full force of steel and glass. He died on the operating table. I struck the second match without hesitation, rewriting his fate to avoid that moment. I thought I would never need the third. We were meant to be forever. Until he tossed an ultrasound photo onto the coffee table. The world tilted. His voice was ice. “Jade is four months along. It’s my son.” The ringing in my ears drowned everything out. He spoke without warmth. “Surviving that crash was a sign. God gave me a second chance to be with my true soulmate. You keep the Blackwell name, but don’t touch Jade.” The matchbox in my pocket bit into my palm, sharp enough to draw blood. I didn’t know how he remembered the crash. But he clearly didn’t think I held the power over time. The hospital’s air conditioning sent a violent shiver through my spine. I forced the question out of my throat. “Why?” Dominic’s expression softened, but not for me. “Jade isn’t like you. She grew up with nothing. She’s fragile, she needs security. This baby is her shield, and it’s my promise to her. Besides, we’ve been together for fifteen… no, five years. Touching you now feels as exciting as my left hand touching my right.” I caught his slip of the tongue immediately. In my original life, I discovered his affair with his secretary in our tenth year of marriage. Our child was five years old then. He had slit his own wrists, writing me a letter in his own blood, claiming he had been drugged and only stayed with her out of a sense of forced responsibility. He had transferred all his assets to me in a show of “remorse.” In my panic back then, I used the first match to go back to our fifth year. But he just said fifteen years. I fought back the tremor in my chest. “So, she’s the love of your life.” Dominic leaned back, looking bored. “Yeah. You might not believe this, but every time I’m at death’s door, I wake up in the past. You? You’re tough. You don’t need security. You were ready to elope with me right after graduation. You even stole your family’s legal documents just to marry me. Sloane, you’ve always been cheap.” I clutched my chest. A sudden, sharp pain flared beneath my ribs, forcing me to double over. After high school graduation, we had a plan to run away together. But that night, he never showed up at our meeting spot. My parents found me instead. When I confronted him later, Dominic’s eyes were red as he held me. “Sloane, your father was right. We’re too young. We can’t support a ‘forever’ yet. Just give me some time. I’ll give you the world. I’ll take you away properly, with my head held high.” I was furious at his broken promise. I froze him out. Even though we went to the same university, I treated him like a ghost. But in our second year, he started a tech company with some friends and actually made a fortune. He showed up at my father’s house with a mountain of cash to ask for my hand. My father still refused. Dominic just smiled, said nothing, and went back to making more money. I was the one who snapped. I stole my birth certificate and passport, and we eloped to the courthouse. He was working for our future, and I was willing to burn every bridge to stand by him. Dominic looked at me with pure vitriol. “You can ask for a divorce if you want. But just remember, your mother’s experimental cancer treatments? You’ll be paying for those yourself.” His phone rang. He answered it and walked away without a backward glance. I touched my heart. Can a man truly become this heartless once the love dies? After my mother found out he was an orphan, she stepped in and treated him like her own son. She lived in our villa, taking care of us. When people whispered that he was a “nobody” with no family, my mother would chase them down the street with a kitchen spatula. And yet, no matter how many times I reset the clock, my mother always ended up with cancer. I stood up and chased after him. I was the one who pulled him back! I was the one who saved his life! How dare he betray me again! The scent of wet pavement and rain filled the air. Outside the hospital, Jade was standing there, her feet tucked into Dominic’s oversized designer shoes, her arms wrapped around his neck. “The baby and I have been waiting forever!” she pouted. “You’re late. You better buy me something amazing to make up for it!” Dominic’s lips curled into a genuine smile. “I heard there’s a stunning jewelry set coming up at the Sotheby’s auction. I’ll have my assistant bid on it for you.” My feet felt like they were nailed to the floor. I watched as Dominic kissed her, and when she pulled away, he leaned in to chase her lips again. I realized then that we hadn’t been that intimate in years. Since the honeymoon, we stopped kissing. The most we ever shared was a dry peck on the cheek. I pulled out my final match. The freezing rain couldn’t clear the fog in my mind. Where could I go now? To what point in our lives? Dominic’s betrayal seemed like an inevitability, a fixed point in time. But my mother’s cancer was under control in this timeline. She wouldn’t die in agony like she did the first time. Was it worth resetting? Two nurses walked past me, their voices filled with gossip. “I heard he sleeps in the same bed as that Miss Jade every single night just to give her ‘security.’ He’s desperate for that baby.” “That’s nothing. Last week, she called him a ‘dirty dog’ because of his wife, and he actually made the doctors give him a chemical peel and full-body scrub just to ‘cleanse’ himself for her! He’s obsessed.” “I heard she liked the original villa the wife lives in, so he told the wife he had to sell it for ‘business investments’ just to kick her out. Now he’s putting the wife in some cramped apartment near the clinic.” I felt a jolt go through my soul. A year ago, Dominic told me his company needed to expand. He said he was short on cash. I couldn’t stand seeing him drown his stress in alcohol at business dinners, so I suggested we sell our wedding home. We moved into a rental near the hospital to make it easier to care for my mother. I had been so heartbroken to leave that house. Dominic had held me, promising he’d buy me a sprawling estate once the money started flowing back in. I didn’t want him to struggle. I used my father’s inheritance to pay for our daily expenses while I worked a grueling 9-to-5. The nurses’ voices drifted further away. “He even opened a flower shop for her right across from the hospital!” I looked through the veil of rain at the flower shop across the street. A bitter, hollow laugh escaped my lips as tears finally began to fall. I went there every morning to buy a bouquet. The clerk told me the owner was a close friend of Dominic’s and always gave me a discount. When I told Dominic, his eyes had flickered with something I couldn’t read, and he just vaguely nodded. I pushed open the door to the shop. The clerk recognized me instantly. “You were here this morning. Another bouquet already?” I looked around the shop. From the lighting to the placement of the sink. The specific model of the flower fridge. It was all hauntingly familiar. When we first started dating, Dominic asked me what I’d do if money wasn’t an issue. I told him I wanted to open a flower shop. I had shown him a stack of sketches, my dream since middle school. My father had called it a “useless hobby,” but Dominic had helped me refine the designs. But after graduation, I was too busy being his social proxy, entertaining other wives, managing his household, and working my own job. I never had the energy for my own dreams again. Rage bubbled in my throat. The clerk suddenly whispered, “Did you do something to offend our boss?” “What do you mean?” “I’m just saying, maybe you should apologize. It’s not good for a sick person to breathe in flowers that have been treated with those specific chemicals every day. It’s bad for the lungs.” I dug my nails into my palms. “What chemicals?” The clerk checked the security camera on the wall, then pulled me into a corner. “The kind that triggers chronic inflammation and allergies. The boss told me you tried to drug her husband and get pregnant on purpose. She said her husband was smart enough to trick you with a fake marriage certificate. He even hired someone to stage a ‘fender bender’ to get rid of your ‘mistake’ of a pregnancy.” “But you don’t seem like that kind of person. You always bring me those homemade sweets.” I thought of the ultrasound I lost. I grabbed the clerk’s hand, my grip like a vice. “Last May, was your boss vacationing in the Swiss Alps?” The clerk nodded. “Yeah. Her husband takes her abroad every month because she loves it. Apparently, he met her at a club right after he finished college and he’s been taking care of her ever since.” The world turned gray. I leaned against the wall for support. Last April, I was in a car crash. I had gone through thousands of hormonal injections to finally succeed with IVF. And just like that, the baby was gone. I had called Dominic a hundred times. He was in Switzerland, claiming a client was being difficult and wouldn’t let him leave. When I finally saw him after my recovery, I had screamed at him, asking why he wasn’t there when I needed him most. He had acted so repentant back then. He stayed by my side, helping me crawl out of my depression. Now I realized he had been with Jade the whole time. I was just too blind to see it. I pulled out my phone and sent a photo of my “marriage certificate” to a lawyer friend. The reply came back instantly. It’s a fake, Sloane. A high-quality forgery, but it wouldn’t hold up in any court. Who would even dare to pull this kind of stunt? That was the final blow. Every reset, every sacrifice, was a joke I played on myself. I was the fool who kept paying for her own destruction. Even the last flicker of hope vanished. I knew exactly which moment I had to go back to. I sat by my mother’s bedside until the sun began to peek over the horizon. My mother opened her eyes, groaning in pain. “Mom,” I whispered, my eyes burning. “If I go back again, will you still have to suffer?” As if we were linked by a thread of fate, she didn’t ask why. She just reached out and touched my hand. “Next time, I’ll tell you where those matches really came from.” I went back to the villa he had “sold.” I wanted to ask him why. I loved him clearly, and I wanted to leave him with no questions left. The old housekeeper was still there. Every detail of my life was a lie. Everyone knew about them except for me. I placed the photo of the fake marriage certificate on the table. “Why?” Why stay with me? Why not just tell me the truth? Why kill our child? Why let Jade poison me with those flowers? Dominic’s pupils shrunken. He didn’t expect me to find out. His fingers curled into a fist. “You were a perfect wife,” he said. “But I wanted Jade to be a princess. I wanted her to never have to worry about anything. During that year we were ‘fighting’ in college, she was the one comforting me, giving me ideas on how to win you back. The flowers, the jewelry, the sweet talk… she taught me all of it.” “She told me she loved me, but she was too ashamed because her father had sold her to a club to pay off his debts. On our wedding night, when I told you I was ‘busy’ at the office? I was at the club, buying her out. She’s cleaner than you, Sloane. She doesn’t throw herself at men like you did.” “And that divorce agreement? I slipped it into the paperwork when we ‘sold’ the house. You’ve already signed it.” Nausea surged in my gut. I remembered the night we eloped. He had cried, promising me everything. He bought me a diamond ring with his last cent. I thought I saw love in his eyes back then. I looked at him, my voice a mere whisper. “You’re disgusting.” Dominic sighed and tried to take my hand. “Sloane, you’ve always been sensible. I’ll make sure you’re taken care of.” But all I got from him was pain, lies, and betrayal. This man I had lived with for fifteen years… his face was warping into a monster before my eyes. I pulled my hand back and turned to leave. I was done. Dominic stood up, looking frustrated. He grabbed my wrist with bruising force. “Who are you putting on this ‘victim’ act for? Do you think I don’t know what you were doing behind my back?” He threw a stack of photos in my face. I looked down at them. My face had been crudely photoshopped onto various bodies in compromising positions. “You were sleeping around while we were fighting in college! If Jade hadn’t shown me these, I’d still be in the dark! I loved you enough to marry you despite your filth!” I started to laugh. It was so absurd it was hysterical. I had wasted two matches on this man. I had let my mother suffer through cancer twice for this piece of trash. “Dominic,” I said, my voice steady. “You aren’t a fool, and neither am I. You could have hired a pro to check those photos. You could have called the cops. But you didn’t. You wanted me to be ‘guilty’ so your own disgusting behavior would seem justified. You wanted to be the hero in your own twisted story.” My phone rang. It was the nurse, her voice frantic. “Miss Whitmore! Come quickly! Miss Jade came into the room, and your mother has gone into shock!” I violently shook off Dominic’s grip. He grabbed me and shoved me toward his car. “You want to wait for an Uber? Your mother doesn’t have that kind of time!” I didn’t argue. My heart was thundering. I pushed open the hospital door to find Jade kneeling on the floor, looking terrified. “Sloane! I just tried to talk to her, and she started calling me a homewrecker! She tried to hit my stomach!” I walked past her, desperate to reach my mother. “Liar! A patient with stage four pancreatic cancer doesn’t have the strength to hit anyone!” Jade collapsed, clutching her belly, her face pale. Before I could say another word, a stinging pain exploded across my cheek. Dominic’s voice was lethal. “You couldn’t keep your own brat because of your lifestyle, so now you want to kill mine?!” I had just walked past her. But because it was Jade, it was my fault? The heart monitor let out a long, flat drone. Terror paralyzed me. I watched as Dominic scooped Jade up and ordered all the doctors to follow him. I stood in his way. “My mother is dying! Move! She took care of you for years! She cooked for you, she cleaned for you! She’d wake up at 2 AM just to make you soup when you were hungry!” Dominic looked at the bed, a flicker of hesitation in his eyes. Jade let out a pained whimper in his arms. “The baby… is he okay?” Dominic signaled a doctor to take her. Then he turned to me. “Sloane, your mother’s cooking was trash. I never needed her help. A mother who raises a daughter as loose as you… she’s probably rotten to the core anyway.” The world turned into a blur of static. The doctors ignored my mother to follow him. My mother’s line stayed flat. I couldn’t stand. I fell to my knees. My hands were shaking as I pulled out the final match. The lighter flickered, but my tears kept dousing the flame. Finally, it caught. A sharp pain erupted on my scalp as someone grabbed my hair. “Miss Jade almost lost her baby because of you! Mr. Blackwell said to give you a lesson!” I didn’t fight back. I just watched the match burn on the floor. From the room next door, I heard Jade’s voice, thick with flirtation. “The doctor says the baby is stable now… we can celebrate, honey. I want you.” “Don’t you think it’s more exciting with Sloane and her dead mom listening next door?” Rage boiled over. I kicked the person holding me and grabbed a paring knife from the fruit basket. I didn’t think. I lunged. Dominic was there, his shirt unbuttoned, his chest marked with her hickeys. Jade gasped. Dominic instinctively moved to shield Jade. The blade sank deep into his chest. As Jade’s screams filled the room, the match in my hand burned down to my fingers. “Dominic,” I whispered. “I’m the one who controls the clock. This time, let’s go back to before we ran away.” Dominic’s face went white, his eyes wide with disbelief as the fire consumed the room.

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I am a victim of the vicious female supporting character system. In every lifetime, I am forced to play the “vicious wife” in a “husband regrets everything and chases his wife back” story. According to the plot, Adrian Foster must first torture me until I am completely broken, stripping me of my dignity, my family, and my hope. Only then will he suddenly wake up, sob with regret, and chase me back. For nine whole lifetimes, he has broken my legs, sent me to a psychiatric hospital, and forced me to kneel and bow my head to the woman he could never forget. Every single time, I struggle in agony and am forced to forgive him in the end. This is the tenth lifetime. I finally broke down. I do not want to follow the plot anymore, and I do not want to wait for his regret arc anymore. I climbed onto the rooftop of the twenty-eighth floor and jumped. But in the second before I was about to fall, a strong hand clamped tightly around my wrist. Adrian Foster’s eyes were bloodshot, and a madness I could not understand surged in their depths. Through gritted teeth, his voice trembled, “I know you’re not her, but I’ve already acted out nine lifetimes of devotion, so can you switch places with her and not run away this time?”

“Let go! Are you out of your mind?” I dangled in midair from the twenty-eighth floor, and my entire arm hurt so badly it felt like it was about to be torn off. Half of Adrian Foster’s body was leaning over the edge of the rooftop, and the veins on the back of his hand stood out one by one. “Lily Carter, get up here!” he said through clenched teeth, struggling badly. I looked at his face, full of shock and anger, and only found it utterly absurd. In the previous nine lifetimes, he had used that same face to watch coldly as I was trampled into the mud. “Adrian Foster, you’re way too deep into the role.” I used my other hand to pry at his fingers. “The plot in this lifetime hasn’t reached the point where you regret everything yet, so if you save me now, doesn’t that count as breaking character?” Adrian Foster’s pupils suddenly contracted, and his breathing fell completely out of rhythm. “You… know everything?” The mask in his eyes shattered in an instant. I did not answer and only looked at him coldly. Just then, the iron door to the rooftop was kicked open. “Adrian! Why are you bothering with this crazy woman?” A woman in a biker jacket, with a bob haircut that reached her ears, strode over in a rush. Chloe Bennett. Adrian Foster’s childhood best friend. She was also the female lead of this world, the woman with the irresistible charm halo. The moment he heard Chloe Bennett’s voice, Adrian Foster’s whole body stiffened. The hand that was gripping me so tightly actually loosened by half a degree. “Adrian, come over here, it’s too dangerous!” Chloe Bennett wrapped her arms around Adrian Foster’s waist and pulled him back hard. “If she wants to die, then let her die, because she threatens people with suicide every day like she actually matters.” Her tone was full of contempt and annoyance. Adrian Foster’s face instantly turned deathly pale. He did not push Chloe Bennett away, and he did not even dare turn back to look into Chloe Bennett’s eyes. I felt his wrist trembling. The system’s shrill alarm screamed wildly inside my mind. [Warning! Male lead’s behavior has deviated from the main storyline! Please correct it immediately!] Adrian Foster clearly heard it too. The madness in his eyes was gradually replaced by a mechanical coldness. The next second, he suddenly pulled hard and dragged me back from the edge onto the rooftop. I crashed heavily onto the rough concrete floor, and my knees were instantly scraped open as blood seeped out. Before I could even catch my breath, Adrian Foster looked at me, and his gaze had already returned to that familiar, suffocating disgust. “Lily Carter, are you done making a scene?” His voice was icy. “To force me to marry you, you’re even using a trashy trick like jumping off a building?” I lay on the ground and suddenly laughed. See? This was what he called nine lifetimes of devoted love. As long as Chloe Bennett appeared and as long as the system gave a warning, he could instantly turn back into the executioner who tortured me. “Adrian, I told you she didn’t really dare jump.” Chloe Bennett walked over, stepped on the back of my hand, and ground it hard with the sole of her shoe. A piercing pain shot through me, and I bit my lip hard without making a sound. “Lily Carter, we’re all adults, so stop playing these crying, screaming, and suicide-threat games.” “Adrian and I grew up together, and I see him like family. Can you stop being so petty and jealous all day? Is it even fun?” I raised my head and met Chloe Bennett’s provocative gaze. “Like family?” I sneered. “Would family go to his room in the middle of the night in a lace nightgown to borrow his bathroom?” Chloe Bennett’s expression changed slightly, but she quickly returned to her self-righteous look. “That was because the water at my place was shut off! We have nothing to hide, so why is your mind so filthy?” She turned to Adrian Foster and pouted aggrievedly. “Adrian, look at her, she’s starting to attack people again.” Adrian Foster looked at the red and swollen back of my hand under her foot, and the corner of his eye twitched slightly. But he did not push Chloe Bennett away and only said coldly to me, “Apologize.” I wondered if I had misheard him. “What did you say?” “I told you to apologize to Chloe. You slandered her innocence.” I looked at the man in front of me. Just now in midair, the pain and madness in his eyes seemed to have only been an illusion. “And if I don’t?” I slowly pulled my hand back and climbed up from the ground. Adrian Foster stepped forward and grabbed my chin. He used so much force that it almost crushed my bones. “Lily Carter, don’t test my limits.” He leaned close to my ear and spoke in a voice only the two of us could hear. “You’d better behave, or I’ll show you what true hell looks like.” I looked into his eyes, and there was no love in them, only warning. “Fine.” I forced out a smile uglier than crying. “Adrian Foster, remember what you said today.”

“Get in!” Adrian Foster threw me into the basement of the villa. The heavy iron door slammed shut behind me. Everything around me was pitch black, and only a faint thread of light seeped in through the palm-sized ventilation window high above. I slid down against the cold wall and sat on the floor. The wound on my knee had already scabbed over and stuck to the fabric of my pants, and every movement brought a piercing pain. But what did this bit of pain count for? In the third lifetime, he broke one of my legs to vent Chloe Bennett’s anger. In the seventh lifetime, he locked me outside for an entire night during a heavy snowstorm, leaving me with a lifelong illness. The memories of every lifetime were clearly carved into my mind. I curled up and closed my eyes. After who knew how long, the sound of high heels came from outside the iron door. With a click, the lock was opened. Harsh light poured in, and I instinctively raised my hand to block my eyes. Chloe Bennett stood in the doorway with her arms crossed. Behind her stood two burly bodyguards. “Lily Carter, does this basement feel nice?” Chloe Bennett walked in on her high heels and covered her nose in disgust. “It smells moldy, which really suits you.” I ignored her and only looked at her calmly. “Have you gone mute?” Chloe Bennett immediately found it boring when I did not speak. She looked around, and her gaze suddenly landed on an art tube in the corner. That was mine, and it was also the only tiny piece of myself I had kept in this villa. Inside was a painting of the starry sky that had taken me three full months to create. In the previous nine lifetimes, I gave up painting to please Adrian Foster and turned into a bitter woman obsessed with money. In this lifetime, I secretly picked up the paintbrush again. Chloe Bennett walked over and kicked the art tube over. The painting rolled out and spread across the dusty floor. “Oh, you’re still painting?” Chloe Bennett crouched down and roughly yanked open the paper. “What is this mess supposed to be? It’s just a dark lump.” She stood up, and her high heel stepped directly into the center of the painting. “Don’t touch it.” I finally spoke, my voice hoarse. “What, does it hurt?” Chloe Bennett not only refused to move her foot, but ground down twice with more force. The once brilliant starry sky was instantly dirtied beyond recognition by black shoe prints. “Adrian hates your fake artsy pretensions the most. He said the things you paint aren’t even good enough to wipe his shoes.” I stared hard at that painting. It was not just a painting, but the only proof in my despair that I was still alive. “I told you not to touch it!” I suddenly rushed up from the ground and shoved Chloe Bennett away. Chloe Bennett lost her balance, stumbled back a few steps, and fell hard onto the floor. “Ah!” she let out an exaggerated scream. “Lily Carter, are you insane?” The two bodyguards immediately stepped forward and pinned me down from the left and right. I struggled desperately, but my eyes stayed fixed on the painting on the floor. Just then, hurried footsteps sounded at the doorway, and Adrian Foster strode in. “Adrian!” The moment Chloe Bennett saw him, her eyes instantly reddened. She sat on the floor and reached out to him pitifully. “I only came to check on her because I was afraid she’d be scared alone in the basement. Who knew she’d suddenly go crazy and push me to the ground?” “I think I twisted my ankle, and it hurts so much…” Adrian Foster’s face instantly darkened to the extreme. He did not even look at me and went straight to Chloe Bennett’s side, carefully helping her up. “Are you okay?” His voice was extremely gentle. He was simply a completely different person from the cold and ruthless man on the rooftop earlier. “I’m okay, it just hurts a little.” Chloe Bennett leaned into his arms and cast me a provocative glance. Adrian Foster turned his head to look at me. “Lily Carter, you really never learn. Chloe came to see you out of kindness, and this is how you repay her?” I looked at him, at the disgust and anger in his eyes. “She stepped on my painting.” I calmly stated the facts. “It’s just a worthless painting.” Adrian Foster sneered. He raised his foot and stepped onto the already ruined painting. With a ripping sound, the paper was completely torn apart. “Now it isn’t even a worthless painting anymore.” Adrian Foster looked at me with cold eyes. “Apologize to Chloe.” I looked at the pile of torn paper on the ground, and the last spark in my heart went out completely. “And if I don’t?” I raised my head and looked straight into his eyes. Adrian Foster’s gaze darkened. “Lock her in here, and without my permission, no one is allowed to bring her food.” After dropping those words, he turned and left with his arm around Chloe Bennett. “Adrian Foster.” I looked at his back and suddenly spoke. “You’re truly pathetic.”

Smack! A loud slap landed heavily on my face. “What the hell do you think you are, pitying me?” Adrian Foster had come back, and he stood in front of me with his chest rising and falling violently. He glanced at the bodyguards beside him. “You two get out first.” The iron door closed again, leaving only the two of us in the basement. Adrian Foster suddenly stepped forward, grabbed me by the collar, and lifted my whole body up. “Lily Carter, do you think you understand me that well?” His face was very close, close enough that I could see the bloodshot veins filling his eyes. “Do you think a few vague little comments can get my attention?” I was forced to tilt my head up and look at the face so close to mine. “I wasn’t trying to get your attention.” I spat out a mouthful of bloody saliva. “I just think you’re like a dog chained by the system.” Adrian Foster’s fingers instantly tightened, choking me until I could barely breathe. “You’re asking to die,” he said through gritted teeth. But I did not miss the trace of panic that flashed through his eyes. “You stopped paying for my brother’s medical treatment.” I spoke with difficulty. “Half an hour ago, the hospital called and said that if the bill wasn’t paid, they would stop my brother’s targeted therapy.” Adrian Foster’s movements paused slightly. “That’s your own fault,” he said coldly. “Who told you to touch Chloe?” “Touch her?” I laughed softly, laughing so hard tears almost came out. “Adrian Foster, do you dare say you didn’t know she never twisted her ankle? Do you dare say you didn’t know how she crushed the only little bit of hope I had?” Adrian Foster fell silent. He loosened his hand and let me fall to the ground. “So what?” He looked down at me from above, without a trace of warmth in his tone. “As long as she’s happy, what does it matter if she crushes a few of your paintings?” I looked at him, and my heart turned cold. This was the level-two abuse point, and he had precisely grabbed hold of my greatest weakness. “How much money do you want?” I closed my eyes and hid the despair in them. “I only want you to kneel and admit your mistake to Chloe.” Adrian Foster’s voice sounded above my head. “As long as you kneel and say you were wrong, I’ll have someone send your brother’s medical fees over immediately.” Kneel! In the previous lifetimes, I had knelt before this man for all kinds of reasons. I knelt until my knees bled, and I knelt until I had no dignity left. I opened my eyes and slowly climbed up. Then my knees bent, and I knelt heavily on the cold concrete floor. “I was wrong. I shouldn’t have pushed Miss Bennett, and I shouldn’t have made her unhappy.” The basement was deathly silent, and Adrian Foster did not speak. I could even feel his gaze falling on me, carrying some kind of scorching heat. “Not enough.” After who knew how long, he finally spoke. “I want you to bow your head to the floor.” My fingers clenched suddenly, and my nails sank deep into my palms, drawing blood. I took a deep breath, bent down, and pressed my forehead to the cold floor. “Miss Bennett, I’m sorry.” One. Two. Three. Each time I bowed, I could hear the sound of my dignity shattering. But I did not stop, because for my brother, I could endure anything. Just as I was about to bow for the fourth time, Adrian Foster suddenly crouched down, grabbed my hair, and forced me to raise my head. His gaze was extremely complicated. There was anger, pain, and even a trace of… pity. “Lily Carter.” He leaned close to my ear, his voice so low it was almost inaudible. “Do you think I would use such a low-level method to force you?” I froze. The corner of Adrian Foster’s mouth curved into a strange arc. “Your brother’s medicine.” “Last night, I already replaced it with glucose.”

“What did you say?” My mind instantly went blank, and my ears buzzed. I stared hard at Adrian Foster’s lips, trying to find even the slightest trace of a joke on his face. There was none. His gaze was cold and cruel, as if he were admiring the final struggle of dying prey. “I said I already replaced your brother’s targeted medication.” He let go of my hair, stood up, and calmly straightened his cuffs. “Counting the time, his organs should already be starting to fail by now.” “Adrian Foster!” I suddenly lunged up from the ground and clamped both hands around his neck. “I’m going to kill you!” “Then kill me!” Tears broke free like a dam had burst, blurring my vision. That was my only brother! He was the only family member I wanted to desperately protect through these ten cycles of reincarnation! Adrian Foster did not dodge and let me choke him, without even furrowing his brows. “If you kill me, your brother still won’t survive.” He looked at me coldly, and there was no emotion in his voice. “Lily Carter, this is the price of disobedience.” My strength gradually drained away. I let go, and my whole body collapsed to the ground. Why? Why did he have to be this cruel? If it was for the plot, stopping the medical fees would already be enough abuse. Why replace the medicine? Why cut off my brother’s last chance to live? “Why…” I murmured to myself. Adrian Foster looked down at me from above. “Because the system determined that your hatred for me still isn’t enough.” In an extremely low voice, he said something that made my blood run cold. “Lily Carter, only when you completely hate me can the plot continue.” I suddenly raised my head. Looking at his expressionless face, a flash of lightning suddenly crossed my mind. No. This was not right! In the previous nine lifetimes, although he was a scumbag and although he was cold, he had never once mentioned the system or the plot on his own. He had always been a paper character controlled by the system without knowing it. But now, he had actually said the words “the system determined” himself! And if he had really replaced the medication, my brother’s attending doctor could not possibly have failed to notify me. I suddenly wiped away my tears. “You’re lying to me.” I stared hard at him. “You never replaced the medicine.” Adrian Foster’s eyes flickered slightly. “You think I’m just scaring you?” “If you had really replaced the medicine, you wouldn’t have made me kneel just now.” I stood up and brushed the dust from my knees. “You made me kneel to complete the system’s humiliation quota.” “And what you said about replacing the medicine just now was to make me experience an extreme emotional fluctuation, so you could deceive the system.” I looked at him, and the corner of my mouth lifted into a cold smile. “Adrian Foster, you’re not actually being controlled by the system, are you?” Adrian Foster looked at me, his gaze shifting unpredictably. After a long while, he suddenly laughed. “Lily Carter, you’re smarter than I imagined.” He did not deny it, and that meant I had guessed right. He had memories. He knew everything. He was even trying to fight the system. But his way of fighting the system was to keep abusing me, and even use crueler methods to enrage me. “So what?” I looked at him, without the slightest ripple in my heart. “Do you think I’ll be grateful that you didn’t kill my brother? Grateful that you treated me like a monkey for the sake of fighting the system?” I pressed closer to him step by step. “Adrian Foster, remember this.” “From now on, I’m done playing!”

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“Recite it! Recite it again! Noah never gets it wrong!” My dad stood behind me with a ruler in his hand, forcing me to wear the washed-out old sneakers my brother had worn before he died and stand in front of the memorial photo in the living room, reciting high school classical texts and formulas over and over again. After my brother Noah drowned that summer, my dad went insane. He made a chilling rule: on odd-numbered days, I was my dead brother Noah, and on even-numbered days, I was the living Ethan. When I played myself, I could only eat boiled vegetables, because Noah was a sinner and did not deserve meat. I endured it for three years, until he smashed the art supplies I had secretly saved money to buy, saying Ethan had not grown up yet and no one was allowed to draw. I finally could not take it anymore and smashed Ethan’s favorite thing. When my dad forced me to put on those old sneakers, it was already eleven at night. Today was the second, an even-numbered day. I was Ethan. Ethan had good grades, and Ethan had a pair of black basketball shoes. But Ethan was only sixteen when he died. I was seventeen this year. Those size nine shoes did not fit me at all. “Put them on,” my dad said, sitting on the couch with a belt clenched in his hand, his eyes fixed straight on me. I gritted my teeth, curled my toes, and forced my foot inside. The back of the shoe caught on my ankle and scraped the skin raw. “You didn’t put it on right, do it again.” The belt lashed across my calf, leaving a red mark. I did not dodge. I pulled my foot back out, took a deep breath, and shoved it in again. This time, the bones in my toes made a faint crack, and the shoe finally went on. It hurt. It hurt like hell. “Recite.” My dad slapped a high school literature textbook onto the coffee table. When Ethan was alive, he ranked first in his grade and could recite old texts backward. But I had only finished middle school. I sat in front of the coffee table, staring at the dense lines of archaic writing, and my mind went blank. “What are you standing there for? Recite.” My dad’s voice was as cold as ice. I picked up the book and read a few lines at random. Smack! The belt struck my back. “Wrong! All wrong! Ethan would never recite this text wrong!” I gripped the book so hard my knuckles turned white. Every time I got a line wrong, he pinched me. My arms were covered in bruises. I gritted my teeth and read without making a sound. Three years. For every even-numbered day in the past three years, I had to recite books in this living room. Sometimes for one hour, sometimes for two. Only when my dad got tired of watching and went to sleep could I stop. Tonight, he was in good spirits. He watched me recite for a full hour. Just as I was about to collapse, he suddenly stood up. He walked toward my desk. My heart sank hard. Inside the desk drawer were the art supplies I had secretly saved money to buy. On odd-numbered days, I was Noah. Noah liked to draw. But my dad would not let me draw. He said Ethan had not grown up yet, and Ethan had not learned to draw yet, so what right did Noah have to draw? He pulled open the drawer. “Dad!” I stopped reciting, ignored the pain in my arms, and lunged over. Too late. He took out the set of paints. “What is this?” he asked, turning his head to look at me coldly. “Dad, that’s my…” “I asked you, what is this?!” He suddenly raised his voice, sharp enough to pierce my ears. “Paint.” “Who let you buy it?” “I saved the money myself…” “Ethan doesn’t draw!” he screamed hysterically, slamming the box of paints onto the floor. The plastic case shattered. Bright colors splashed out and stained the floor. Still not satisfied, he picked up my sketchbook and tore it in half with a ripping sound. It was a sketchbook I had filled halfway. Inside were skies, birds in flight, and a world without Ethan and without a crazy father. Now, everything was destroyed. He threw the torn pieces of paper into my face. “I said Ethan hasn’t grown up yet, and no one is allowed to draw!” The edge of a scrap of paper cut across my cheek, and it hurt a little. I looked at the mess all over the floor, at the bright colors and the shredded paper. Something inside me suddenly snapped. I did not cry. I turned around and walked toward the TV cabinet. On the TV cabinet sat a silver music box. My dad had bought it for Ethan on his fifteenth birthday. Ethan loved that music box more than anything. My dad wiped it every day and would not allow even a speck of dust on it. I walked over and picked up the music box. My dad froze. “What are you doing?” His voice trembled a little. “Ethan doesn’t draw,” I said, looking at him, each word clear and slow, “and Ethan doesn’t listen to music boxes anymore either.” I lifted the music box and smashed it hard onto the floor. Bang! The metal shell warped out of shape. The little figure inside popped out, the spring snapped, and a harsh metal scraping sound rang out. The living room went deathly silent. My dad stared blankly at the pieces on the floor. His face was as white as paper. I thought he would hit me. I thought he would whip me half to death with the belt. I was already prepared to take the beating. But he did not. He slowly squatted down and picked up the little figure with the broken leg. His hands were shaking badly. “Dad.” I gasped for breath and shouted the words I had held back for three years. “Ethan is dead! He died three years ago! He drowned in the reservoir! If you hadn’t been busy drinking back then and had watched him properly, how would he have fallen in?!” His whole body shook. The broken half of the little figure fell from his hand. He raised his head and looked at me. His eyes were filled with fear, despair, and disbelief. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out. I looked at him coldly. “I was the one who found him by the reservoir.” “I was the one who pulled him out.” “His body was swollen from the water and cold as ice.” “It wasn’t my fault.” “It was never my fault.” “You were the one who killed him.” I took off the old sneakers and threw them beside his feet. “I don’t want to be Ethan anymore.” I turned around, walked back to my room, and locked the door. That night, there was not a single sound in the living room. No crying, no cursing, nothing. The next morning, I opened my bedroom door. The living room had been cleaned spotless. The traces of paint were gone, the scraps of paper were gone, and the broken pieces of the music box were gone too. The old sneakers were placed neatly on the shoe rack. My dad was not in the living room. I walked to the TV cabinet. On the wall, where Ethan’s photo had originally hung, there was now a sheet of white paper. On the paper, someone had drawn a huge tally mark with a black marker. Beside it was a line of words. The handwriting was neat, pressed so hard it nearly cut through the paper. “Noah, from today on, you are Ethan every day.”

The words on the wall were like a curse. I stared at that line for a while, then tore the paper down, crumpled it into a ball, and threw it in the trash. I put on my school uniform, shouldered my backpack, and left. I did not eat breakfast. The pot was empty, and my dad was not home. I did not know where he had gone, and I did not want to know. When I got to school, the first class was math. I sat in the last row. The seat beside me was empty. No one wanted to sit with me. Because I was “sick.” Ethan had asthma. My dad had a rule that when I played Ethan, I had to take medicine on schedule. To keep him from noticing anything wrong, I put vitamin tablets into an asthma medicine bottle and brought them to school to take. I also had to pretend to cough and pretend I could not breathe. Over time, the whole class knew Noah had a straight-A brother who had died, and that Noah himself was mentally unstable. “Split personality.” That was the nickname they used for me behind my back. During break exercises, I stayed in the classroom instead of going. Because Ethan could not do intense exercise. A few boys walked in from outside, talking and laughing. When they saw me, their laughter paused, then they deliberately lowered their voices, but still spoke loudly enough for me to hear. “Look, that split-personality freak is pretending to be dead again.” “I heard his dad is crazy too and picks through trash on the street every day.” “So disgusting, he was taking pills earlier, and who knows what he was actually taking.” I lowered my head, looked at the words in my textbook, and pretended I had not heard. Suddenly, a hand slapped down on my desk. I looked up. It was Ryan. Ryan was the class president, with good grades, a clean look, and a lot of friends. He looked at those boys and frowned. “What are you saying? You don’t have to go do exercises anymore, huh?” The boys curled their lips and scattered. Ryan pulled out the chair beside me and sat down. “Are you okay?” he asked. “I’m fine.” My voice was cold. “You didn’t take your medicine today.” He stared at the inside of my desk. My heart tightened. “I forgot to bring it.” “Don’t you have asthma? You can forget your medicine?” He looked into my eyes, as if trying to see through something. “It’s not serious.” I turned my head toward the window. Ryan did not press further. He took a piece of White Rabbit candy from his pocket and put it on my desk. “For you.” I looked at the candy. Ethan liked White Rabbit candy. Noah did not like it, because Noah thought it was too sweet, sweet enough to make him sick. “I don’t eat candy.” I pushed the candy back. Ryan froze for a moment. “Didn’t you used to love it?” I did not speak. Before was before, and now was now. Last night, I smashed the music box, and I took off the sneakers. I did not want to pretend anymore. Ryan sighed and took the candy back. “Noah.” He suddenly called my name. I turned my head. “Actually, I know,” he said, lowering his voice. “You don’t have asthma at all, right?” My hands clenched hard. “I’ve seen you switch the medicine bottle,” he said. “You dumped out the white pills and put yellow vitamins inside.” I stared at him, my heart beating fast. “What exactly do you want?” I asked. “I don’t want anything.” He looked at me. “I just think you’re living too painfully.” “I don’t need you to care.” I stood up and walked out of the classroom.

In the afternoon, we had gym class. The test was an eight-hundred-meter run. I stood beside the track and watched the others warm up. The gym teacher blew his whistle. “Noah, are you running today?” The whole class’s eyes landed on me. In the past, I always used a medical note to get out of it. But today, I did not have a medical note. My dad had not prepared one for me last night. “I’m running,” I said. Whispers spread through the crowd. “Doesn’t he have asthma?” “He was probably faking it, I think he’s usually full of energy.” “Split personality, I guess, maybe another personality came out today.” I ignored them and walked to the starting line. Ryan stood beside me and glanced at me. “Can you do it?” “I can.” The whistle blew, and I shot forward. I ran fast. The wind roared past my ears. I wanted to run all the tightness out of my chest. I wanted to prove I was a healthy person, that I was not Ethan, that I did not have asthma. On the first lap, I was in the lead. On the second lap, my breathing grew ragged. I was not pretending, I was truly tired. It had been too long since I had done intense exercise. My lungs felt like they were burning, and there was a metallic taste in my throat. The footsteps behind me came closer and closer. Ryan passed me. The other boys also passed me one after another. I gritted my teeth and stared hard at the track ahead. I could not stop. If I stopped, I was Ethan. If I kept running, I was Noah. The final lap. My legs felt as heavy as lead. My vision started to darken. I heard someone shouting my name. “Noah! Keep going!” It was Ryan. I used every last bit of strength I had and rushed across the finish line. Then my legs went weak, and I dropped to my knees on the rubber track. I gasped for air in huge mouthfuls, and sweat blurred my eyes. Someone handed me a bottle of water. I looked up, and it was Ryan. “Drink some water.” I took the bottle, twisted off the cap, and gulped down a big mouthful. “You’re pretty fast,” he said with a smile. I tugged at the corner of my mouth too. Just then, a harsh voice rang out. “Well, look at that, the asthma patient finished eight hundred meters? Still alive, huh?” It was Tyler. He was the boy in class who loved causing trouble the most. He walked over with a few other boys and looked down at me from above. “Noah, your acting isn’t good enough.” “Yesterday you were coughing like you were dying, and today you can run eight hundred meters?” “Is that disease of yours intermittent or something?” The people around us burst into laughter. I tightened my grip on the water bottle in my hand. “What the hell does it have to do with you?” I said coldly. “You’ve got quite the temper.” Tyler took a step closer. “I heard your dad is crazy, so did you inherit it too?” My mind buzzed. I shot to my feet and smashed the water bottle straight into his face. Water splashed all over him. Tyler froze. The whole field went silent. “You fucking dare hit me?” Tyler snapped back to himself and shoved me hard. I had no strength to begin with, and when he shoved me, I fell straight to the ground. My palm scraped open, and blood seeped out. “Tyler! What are you doing!” Ryan stepped in front of me. “Class president, stay out of it.” Tyler pointed at me. “This psycho started it!” “You insulted him first!” Ryan did not back down. The gym teacher ran over. “What are you doing, what are you doing! Starting a riot?” Tyler and I were both called to the discipline office. The dean was a balding middle-aged man. He slapped the desk, spit flying everywhere. “Fighting! You actually dared to fight! Noah, you already fake being sick all the time, and now you dare hit a classmate?” I lowered my head, looked at the blood on my palm, and said nothing. “And Tyler, you too! Why are you picking on another boy?” Tyler rolled his eyes. “Call your parents!” the dean gave the final order. “Bring both of your parents in tomorrow!” My heart sank hard. Call my parent. My dad. If my dad came, the whole school would know what kind of person he was. The whole school would see his madness. I raised my head and looked at the dean. “Sir, my dad is sick, he can’t come.” “Sick? What kind of sickness?” “Mental illness.” The office suddenly went quiet. The dean froze. Tyler froze too. I looked at their shocked expressions and suddenly found it a little funny. “He’s crazy,” I said calmly. “He can’t come. If you want to expel me, then expel me.” After I said that, I turned and walked out of the office. The dean’s furious roar came from behind me. I ignored it.

I walked out of the school building, and the sunlight was so harsh I could barely open my eyes. I did not want to go back to the classroom, and I did not want to go home. I wandered aimlessly along the street. When I passed a stationery store, I stopped. In the display window sat a set of watercolor paints. It was exactly the same as the set my dad had smashed last night. I stood outside the window and looked at it for a long time. Only after the sky went dark did I turn and walk home. The hallway of our apartment building was always filled with a moldy smell. The light had been broken for a long time, and no one had fixed it. I climbed up to the third floor in the dark. Just as I reached the turn on the third floor, I heard an argument coming from upstairs. “Are you sick or something?! Why are you knocking on doors in the middle of the night?!” It was a man’s voice. It was unfamiliar. My heart tightened, and I quickened my steps up to the fourth floor. The door on the left side of the fourth floor was open. A man wearing a tank top, his arms covered in tattoos, stood in the doorway with a baseball bat in his hand and anger all over his face. My dad stood opposite him. He was holding a stack of old newspapers. His hair was messy, and his eyes were empty. “Where is Mr. Walker?” my dad murmured. “I brought newspapers for Mr. Walker. Ethan said Mr. Walker likes listening to him read the paper.” “What Mr. Walker! My last name is Miller! I moved in a month ago! If you dare knock on my door again, I’ll break your legs!” The man waved the baseball bat in his hand. I rushed over and pulled my dad behind me. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” I apologized over and over. “My dad isn’t right in the head, and he got the wrong door. Please don’t take it personally.” The man looked me over and snorted coldly. “If he’s crazy, lock him up at home! Why let him out to scare people!” After saying that, he slammed the door shut. The hallway returned to dead silence. I turned my head and looked at my dad. He was still holding that stack of newspapers, staring blankly at the closed security door. “Dad.” I tugged at his sleeve. “Let’s go home.” “Where is Mr. Walker?” He turned his head and looked at me. “Where did Mr. Walker go?” “Mr. Walker’s son took him away a year ago. This apartment was sold.” “Impossible.” He shook his head. “Ethan said yesterday that he was going to read the newspaper to Mr. Walker. Ethan never lies.” My anger flared up all at once. “Ethan is dead!” I yelled at him. “He’s been dead for three years! He can’t read the paper anymore! Can’t you wake up for once!” I snatched the newspapers from his arms and threw them hard onto the floor. The newspapers scattered everywhere. The dates printed on them were from three years ago. My dad froze. He looked at the newspapers on the floor and slowly squatted down. He started picking them up one by one. The hallway was very dark, and I could not see his expression clearly. But I could hear his muffled sobs. “Ethan isn’t dead,” he said while picking them up. “Ethan is right here. He’s just being disobedient and hiding.” I looked at his hunched back, and my throat tightened. I hated him. I hated him for forcing me to pretend to be Ethan, hated him for smashing my paints, and hated him for turning me into a joke at school. But I also pitied him. He was trapped in that summer three years ago and could never walk out. I squatted down and helped him pick up the newspapers. “Dad, let’s go home.” My voice softened. He did not speak, only hugged the newspapers tightly.

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