Author: Momo Chan

I was a complete pushover. I let myself get bullied by the school’s queen bee, and treated like a disposable toy by my trash ex. But then, a freak car accident happened. I swapped bodies with Asher, the most dangerous, unstable psycho at school. Trapped in his fierce, ruggedly handsome body, I finally learned what it felt like to be a total badass. Meanwhile, he was in my body—living even more lawlessly and ruthlessly than he ever did in his own. When the school’s queen bee cornered me in the pool locker room, trying to rip my swimsuit and film it for Snapchat, I didn’t even have time to panic. Through the steam, I watched “myself” kick the heavy locker room door off its hinges. “I” grabbed the queen bee by her perfect blonde hair, slammed her face-first into the deep end, and stared down at her with eyes like cold, poisoned daggers. “Touch her again, and I’ll make you drink this entire pool dry.” The sharp smell of chlorine mixed with warm, heavy steam, filling the indoor pool area. Asher, who was currently occupying my body, was cornered against the edge of the pool by Chloe, the school’s reigning queen bee. Chloe wore an expensive designer bikini that showed off her perfect curves. But in her hand, she was casually spinning a pair of sharp metal scissors. Her face, painted with flawless waterproof makeup, twisted into a cruel, smug sneer. “Oh, Hailey. A cheap, twenty-dollar swimsuit from Wish? You really think you belong in a place like this?” “You’re literally polluting our pool.” The group of minions surrounding her burst into high-pitched, mocking laughter. The sound echoed off the high tiled ceilings, grating on my nerves. “Chloe is way too nice,” one of them snickered. “She just wants to help you redesign it.” “A broke charity case like Hailey probably doesn’t even know how to swim.” “Let’s help her cool off today. Maybe she’ll finally learn her place.” Standing in Asher’s body just fifteen feet away, I felt the blood rush to my head. My ears rang. I wanted to charge forward. I wanted to rip that fake, pretty smile right off Chloe’s face. But this body belonged to Asher. I had no idea how to control this six-foot-one frame of explosive, heavy muscle. My legs felt like lead. I could only watch. But then, my own familiar, fragile, usually slouched body moved. Without warning, and without saying a single word, Asher took a sudden step forward. He was lightning fast. Before anyone could react, “I” grabbed Chloe by the wrist—the one holding the scissors. Snap. A sickening crack echoed through the air. Chloe’s arrogant smile instantly shattered. Her face contorted in agony as she let out a blood-curdling shriek. “Ah! My wrist! You crazy bitch, Hailey! Let go of me!” “I” didn’t answer. With a swift flick of the wrist, “I” snatched the scissors and tossed them into the deep end of the pool. Then, in one fluid motion, “I” grabbed Chloe by her carefully styled blonde hair. Without a shred of mercy, “I” dragged her like a dead dog toward the six-foot-deep water. Chloe’s scalp looked like it was about to rip off. Her screams pierced the entire facility. “Let me go! Hailey, you psycho! I’m going to kill you! My dad will have you expelled!” My actual arms were thin and pale, with blue veins clearly visible under the skin. But right now, they possessed a terrifying, absolute force. Splash! “I” didn’t hesitate. “I” planted a foot firmly into Chloe’s lower back and kicked her straight into the deep end. Water splashed everywhere, sending massive ripples across the pool. “Help… gulp… he—” Chloe thrashed wildly, her hands clawing uselessly at the water as she let out choked, desperate cries. She didn’t know how to swim. The onlookers stood frozen. The air in the room turned to ice. That included my trash ex-boyfriend, Tyler, who had just walked out of the locker room in his swim trunks. Tyler froze for a second before rushing over like a madman. He grabbed “my” shoulder, his face red and veins bulging in his neck. “Hailey! Have you lost your mind?!” “Do you have any idea what you’re doing?! Pull Chloe out right now!” “I” slowly turned my head. Using my own face—the one that had always looked timid, submissive, and eager to please—”I” looked at Tyler. But the eyes belonged entirely to Asher. It was the look of a predator staring at a corpse—filled with violence, contempt, disdain, and unmasked killer instinct. It was like an apex beast looking down at an insect. “Get lost.” The voice was low, carrying Asher’s signature gravelly, suffocating pressure. The temperature in the room felt like it dropped twenty degrees. Tyler actually flinched. A flash of pure terror crossed his eyes, and he instinctively let go of my shoulder, stumbling back two steps. “I” turned back to the pool, where Chloe was still flailing, her eyes rolling back after swallowing several mouthfuls of chlorinated water. “I” casually picked up a long-handled metal pool skimmer from the deck. With perfect precision, “I” hooked it under her bikini strap and yanked her upward just enough so her nose and mouth cleared the surface. Chloe gasped desperately for air, water streaming down her face. Her waterproof makeup was ruined, mascara running down her cheeks. Smudged, weeping, and shivering, she looked like a drowned rat. There was no trace of the proud queen bee left. The second she caught her breath, she opened her mouth to scream curses. But “I” flicked my wrist, pressing the metal pole down, shoving her head right back under the water. “Apologize.” “I” didn’t shout. The voice was calm, almost quiet, but it carried a chilling authority that cut through the silence of the room. “Gulp… bubble…” Chloe’s voice was muffled as a trail of desperate bubbles rose to the surface. “I” let go of the pole, watching her sink again, completely indifferent. “Apologize.” “I” slowly raised my hand, pointing directly at me—at the real Hailey standing inside Asher’s towering body. Every eye in the room instantly locked onto me. Their expressions were a mix of confusion, dread, and utter disbelief. Hailey was forcing Chloe to apologize to… Asher? What kind of twisted movie was this? Those two had never even spoken a word to each other before today! Tyler finally found his voice again, pointing a trembling finger at “me” and screaming hysterically: “Hailey, are you mentally ill?!” “You’re doing this to Chloe over a piece of trash like Asher?!” “Do you know who her dad is? He’s on the school board! You’re dead at this school!” “I” ignored him completely, not even throwing a glance his way. “I” just kept staring at Chloe, who was on the verge of passing out in the water. “I… I’m sorry… help… I’m sorry…” Chloe finally broke. In the face of actual drowning, her pride crumbled into dust. She wept and begged, her voice barely a whisper. Only then did “I” use the skimmer to drag her to the edge, hoisting her onto the wet tiles like a sack of garbage. Chloe collapsed on the floor, shivering violently and coughing up water, shaking like a leaf in the wind. “I” grabbed a clean white towel from a nearby lounge chair. Slowly, methodically, “I” wiped my hands. “I” cleaned every single finger with extreme care, as if I had just touched something deeply contaminated. Wiping finished, “I” tossed the towel aside and walked straight over to “Asher.” “Asher” looked at “me.” I looked at “myself.” Our eyes met, carrying a heavy, silent understanding. “I” suddenly reached out and grabbed “Asher’s” wrist. The grip was tight, almost rough, but there was a subtle, reassuring squeeze in the touch. “Let’s go.” “I” pulled “Asher” along. Under the terrified, silent stares of everyone in the pool, we turned and walked out. Our silhouettes looked defiant and untouchable.

We walked in silence across the noisy courtyard, avoiding the main paths until we reached the rooftop of the abandoned old science building. No one ever came up here. The wind was howling, making the weeds growing through the concrete rustle loudly. The air was chilly, but Asher’s body felt like a furnace, blood pumping hot through my veins. Asher leaned against the rusty iron railing. Using my hands, he habitually patted his pockets. Realizing there were no cigarettes, he clicked his tongue in annoyance and violently kicked an old wooden desk nearby. It was surreal. My face—usually looking down, quiet, timid, and plain—was now painted with arrogance, rage, and impatience. The raw intensity in his eyes made my gentle features look strikingly fierce, almost beautiful in a dangerous way. “Hey,” he spoke. The voice was high and feminine—my voice—but the tone was incredibly sharp and dominant, like he owned the world. “Are you always this much of a spineless coward? You just let people walk all over you?” I looked down. Using his large, calloused hands, I unconsciously scratched at the peeling paint of the railing. “I… I’m used to it.” “Used to it?” He let out a harsh laugh, as if he’d just heard the funniest joke in the world. His eyes pierced through me. “Is your spine made of jelly? Someone steps on you, and you ask them if their foot hurts? Are you a masochist?” His blunt words stung. A wave of intense frustration and hurt washed over me. My eyes burned, and my vision blurred. “What else was I supposed to do?!” I snapped, my voice cracking as tears threatened to spill from his eyes. “Chloe’s dad is a major donor and sits on the school board! Tyler always protects her!” “I’m just a scholarship kid. I can’t even afford a hospital bill if I get sick. How am I supposed to fight them?” “I just wanted to keep my head down, graduate, and get into college!” The floodgates opened, and memories of every humiliation I had endured rushed back. It started shortly after Tyler and I began dating. That was the first time Chloe targeted me. She had cornered me in the girls’ restroom stall and poured a bucket of ice-cold water over my head. Then she laughed as she threw my backpack and the study guides I had stayed up all night writing straight into the trash can. “Hailey, let me tell you a secret,” she had said, looking down at my shivering, soaked self. “Tyler told us that dating you is just a little charity project.” “A country bumpkin like you doesn’t even deserve to wipe my shoes.” “You think he actually loves you? Keep dreaming.” My face had flushed red back then. Shaking with anger, I had yelled, “You’re lying! Tyler isn’t like that! He loves me!” Chloe’s laughter had grown louder, sharp and mocking. “Oh, really? Hear it for yourself.” She pulled out her phone and played an audio clip. It was Tyler’s voice, surrounded by the loud music and chatter of a bar. His voice was incredibly clear. “Tyler, are you really dating that Hailey girl?” “She’s so plain. She probably doesn’t even know what Chanel is. Isn’t it embarrassing to be seen with her?” “Come on, guys, don’t roast me too hard,” Tyler’s voice laughed. “She’s naive. Easy to play. Think of it as charity—giving her a taste of what it’s like to be wanted.” “I’ll dump her when I get bored. Besides, Chloe’s been giving me attitude lately. I’m just using Hailey to make her jealous.” Those words had felt like a rusty blade, carving away my self-respect piece by piece, leaving me bleeding. Later, Tyler had found me. He held me close, his eyes dripping with sweet, fake tenderness. “Hailey, don’t listen to Chloe. She’s just jealous of us.” “I was just drunk and talking big in front of the guys. You know how guys are—we have egos.” “You’re the only one I care about. Please believe me.” And I had believed him. Like a pathetic, desperate fool, I had brainwashed myself over and over, choosing to trust him. Until today, when he pointed at my face and called me crazy, all to protect Chloe. Only then did I finally wake up. I was nothing but a toy to relieve his boredom. “What are you thinking about? Who are you crying for?” Asher’s rough voice snapped me out of my memories. I looked up at him, tears finally spilling over Asher’s sharp cheekbones. “Asher, why did this happen to us? How did we even swap?” He walked over to me. Using my short body, he had to look up to meet my gaze in his six-foot-one frame. “How the hell should I know? I crashed my bike into a guardrail last night. When I woke up, I was you.” He ran a hand through my long hair in frustration. Halfway through, he paused, as if worried about pulling the roots, and gently patted it down instead with a clumsy tenderness. “Alright, suck those tears back in. I hate crying girls.” He paused, looking at his own face on me with deep disgust. “And even though you’re wearing my face, seeing a guy cry is still repulsive.” Silence fell over the rooftop. The distant hum of the city drifted up to us. After a long moment, he zipped open my worn-out canvas bag, pulled out a battered notebook and a pen, and slapped them against my broad chest. “From now on, we write notes. Don’t talk to yourself in public unless you want people to think we’re schizophrenic and throw us in an asylum.” He tore a page out, pressed it against the brick wall, and scribbled furiously. When he finished, he slapped the paper onto my chest. The handwriting was sharp and chaotic, radiating pure arrogance: `[Starting tomorrow, you do exactly as I say.]` `1. Do not speak a single word to that idiot Tyler. Even looking at him makes me sick.` `2. If Chloe touches you again, beat her to a pulp. I’ll take the fall.` `3. Most importantly: Don’t embarrass my body. Stand up straight!` Looking at the note, my heart swirled with fear, confusion, and a tiny, hidden spark of comfort. I took the pen, my hand trembling as I wrote underneath his words: `[I don’t dare to.]`

He took the paper, and his brows instantly knitted into a tight knot. Using my face, he made an incredibly fierce expression that looked like he wanted to bite someone. He snatched the pen back, crossing out my words so hard the paper almost tore, and shoved it back into my hands. `[You don’t dare, but I do.]` My heart skipped a beat, my blood pumping a little faster. Apparently feeling that wasn’t enough, he grabbed the paper again and aggressively added one more line: `[Starting tomorrow, I’m teaching you how to be a monster.]` The next morning, golden sunlight filtered through the trees, casting shadows along the pathway of Silverwood Academy. I walked side-by-side with Asher into the classroom, currently occupying his towering body. This was the honors class. The students here were either ultra-wealthy heirs or top-tier scholarship geniuses like I used to be. Asher was the only anomaly—a “cancer” who got in solely because his family paid a massive donation fee, and who consistently occupied the very bottom of the grade. The moment we walked in, the noisy classroom fell dead silent. Every eye turned to us like searchlights. Whispers broke out immediately, like a swarm of buzzing flies. “Holy shit, look! Asher and Hailey walked in together!” “Did you hear about the pool yesterday? Hailey looked possessed. She almost drowned Chloe!” “I heard Chloe had nightmares all night.” “Seriously? Pussy Hailey dared to touch Chloe?” “Hasn’t she been following Tyler around like a lost puppy? Did getting dumped finally break her brain?” “Who knows? But look at her eyes now… they’re so cold. It’s creepy. She’s like a different person.” I felt “Asher” shoot me a warning glare. I could only steel myself, pull my shoulders back, and walk over to his seat—the permanently empty desk in the back corner by the window. My original seat was just diagonal to his, which he now claimed. He propped his legs up on the desk, looking incredibly relaxed and arrogant. Soon, the bell rang. In walked Mr. Vance, the most obnoxious teacher in the department. Mr. Vance had always hated me because despite how hard I studied, my physics grades were mediocre. Plus, I was quiet and easy to pick on, making me his favorite target whenever he wanted to make an example of someone. Today, he clearly wanted to reassert his authority in front of the class after the pool drama. He slammed his thermos onto the podium with a loud thud, his eyes locking onto “me” in the back row. “Hailey, stand up.” Asher stood up slowly, keeping his hands casually shoved into his pockets. His face was blank, his posture relaxed and dripping with a bad-boy attitude. “Look at your posture! You got the lowest grade in the class on yesterday’s physics quiz again.” “Stupid is one thing, but your attitude is unacceptable. Go to the board and solve this problem.” Mr. Vance pointed to a highly complex electromagnetic field problem on the blackboard, a smug smirk playing on his lips. It was an advanced challenge question. Forget about me—even the top student in AP Physics would need at least fifteen minutes of scratch work to solve it. The class turned to look at “me,” many wearing eager grins, waiting for the trainwreck. Chloe sat in the front row, wearing heavier makeup than usual to hide her pale face. She turned around, her eyes filled with spite and anticipation. My palms started sweating inside Asher’s body. I sat on pins and needles, terrified he would lose his temper and smash the podium. But Asher just glanced at the board, a trace of pure disdain flashing in his eyes. Then, under everyone’s gaze, he stepped out of the row and walked up to the board. His steps were steady, carrying an effortless, natural confidence. He picked up a piece of chalk. Without even reading the prompt twice, he began writing. No hesitation. No pausing to think. Lines of incredibly elegant, highly simplified formulas flowed onto the board. The clicking of the chalk against the slate sounded like a fast-paced battle march. He didn’t even use the standard curriculum method. Instead, he utilized college-level calculus, introducing a gradient equation for the non-uniform distribution of the Lorentz force, completely breaking down the complex electromagnetic motion. In less than two minutes, he tossed the chalk aside and brushed the dust off his hands. “Done.” He spoke using my voice—usually quiet and soft—but now it rang out clear, carrying an undeniable, absolute authority. The entire classroom went so quiet you could hear a pin drop. Mr. Vance’s smug grin froze, replaced by utter shock and disbelief. He pushed his glasses up his nose, staring at the steps on the board. His lips trembled, but no words came out. “Mr. Vance,” Asher said using my voice, his tone polite but dripping with subtle mockery. “This problem was taken from the AP Physics C tournament two years ago. But you left out a crucial premise in your given conditions—the non-uniform distribution of the Lorentz force.” “If we went by your uniform magnetic field condition, the particles would escape in the third quadrant, making a closed loop impossible.” “I took the liberty of adding a gradient condition where the magnetic induction changes with the coordinates, solved it with a second-order ordinary differential equation, and found the terminal velocity.” “Also, your textbook formula-stuffing method is incredibly clumsy. It’s a waste of time and lacks any mathematical beauty.” He finished speaking, and the entire room felt like it had entered a vacuum. Mr. Vance’s face turned red, then white, like a watercolor palette. He sputtered for a few seconds, unable to find a single argument. Because he knew “Hailey” was absolutely right. In fact, his solution was far more elegant than the official answer key. “Go… go back to your seat!” he barked, trying to salvage the last shred of his dignity. “Sure,” Asher replied casually, putting one hand in his pocket as he strolled back. As he passed Chloe’s desk, he paused for a fraction of a second, letting out a soft, mocking laugh. The students looked at “me” with completely different eyes now. The mockery was gone, replaced by awe. Tyler’s expression was the most complex. His eyes scanned “me” up and down, as if seeing me for the very first time, a predatory spark of conquest lighting up his eyes. Sitting in the back, I looked at “my” own back from Asher’s body. For the first time in my life, I realized that my own body could look so bright, so radiant, and so utterly untouchable.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “431143”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

I had always played the role of a quiet, ordinary stay-at-home mom at my daughter’s elite private school. That was until the day I found a hidden micro-camera disguised as a vent in the girls’ restroom. My daughter Chloe’s teacher scoffed at me, saying Chloe was too flat for anyone to care about anyway, and that being recorded was practically a blessing for her. The principal tried to bribe and threaten me with Ivy League recommendation letters, telling me to be the bigger person and let it go. The school board trustee’s wife was even more arrogant, trying to completely ruin Chloe’s life with a deepfake AI-generated explicit video. They all thought we were just helpless, penniless nobodies they could easily crush. What they didn’t know was that my “useless” husband, who was always too busy to even show up for parent-teacher conferences, was actually Adrian Vance—the most feared, undefeated defense attorney in New York City. The moment he stepped onto the campus with a fleet of elite lawyers, those high-and-mighty hypocrites finally learned the true definition of despair.

Finding that camera was a complete, spine-chilling accident. It was Lincoln High School’s annual Parent Volunteer Day. As a parent volunteer, I was assigned to deep-clean the hidden corners of the academic building. When I walked into the girls’ restroom at the end of the third floor, I caught the faint, chemical scent of cheap air freshener. I looked up. My eyes fell on the ventilation grate in the very last stall. At the edge of the vent’s metal slats, there was a tiny, highly unnatural black bump. If I hadn’t been standing on the edge of the toilet seat to wipe the upper wall, it would have been impossible to spot from below. My heart skipped a beat. A cold, sickening feeling crawled up my spine like a venomous snake. I reached out and pried off the tiny black plastic cover. Click. A micro-camera, barely the size of a fingernail, popped out. Attached to the back of it was a wireless transmitter card, blinking with a faint, mocking red light. At that moment, the blood in my veins froze. This was the girls’ restroom. This was where Chloe came every single day. I gripped the warm camera so hard that my fingernails dug deep into my palms. I didn’t make a scene. Instead, I immediately slipped out of the school under the pretense of running an errand and drove straight to a nearby computer repair shop. “Extract everything from this memory card. Now. Please,” I told the technician. My voice was shaking violently. Seeing how pale I was, the shop owner didn’t ask questions. He quickly plugged the card into his reader. As the folder loaded, rows upon rows of video files flooded the screen. Sorted by date, there were hundreds of them. With trembling hands, I clicked on the most recent video. The camera shook a bit—clearly, someone was adjusting the angle during installation. Then, a face covered in acne, wearing a disgusting, smug grin, filled the screen. I knew him. Stephen Howard. The untouchable golden boy of the elite class, son of the school board trustee, Victor Howard. He was also Chloe’s classmate. The video continued, angling directly toward the toilet. What came next made my stomach churn. Dozens of girls in high school uniforms, completely unaware, were recorded in their most private moments. And then, I saw Chloe. She was looking down, reciting her biology notes, completely oblivious to the demonic eyes watching her from above. “My God… this is a major felony! Should we call the cops?” the shop owner gasped, his face turning pale. “Make two backup copies of everything on a flash drive. Give me the original card,” I said, inhaling deeply to suppress the blinding rage threatening to consume my sanity. I couldn’t just go to the police yet. The Howard family practically owned this city. If I just handed the evidence over to the local precinct, they would easily pull strings to bury it, or worse, turn it against us. I had to go to the school first and see where they stood. Holding the flash drive tightly, I ran back out into the bright, blinding sunlight. The war had just begun.

I marched straight into the faculty office. Chloe’s teacher, Ms. Gable, was sitting at her desk, sipping artisanal coffee while browsing designer bags on her phone. When she saw me burst in, out of breath, she frowned. An undisguised look of annoyance flashed in her eyes. “Chloe’s mom? Parent Volunteer Day is over. Why are you running into my office instead of helping outside?” I walked up to her desk, slammed my hands on the surface, and stared directly into her heavily powdered face. “Ms. Gable, I just found a hidden micro-camera in the third-floor girls’ restroom.” I kept my voice low, but every word was laced with steel. Ms. Gable’s hand froze over her phone, but she quickly put it down, completely unbothered. There was no shock, no anger, no concern. Instead, she let out a sharp, mocking laugh. “And here I thought the sky was falling.” She grabbed a tissue and slowly wiped her lips. “Listen, Eleanor. Midterms are next week, and the boys are under a lot of academic pressure.” “A few mischievous boys pulling a prank to blow off steam is perfectly understandable. We shouldn’t overreact.” I could not believe my ears. Spying on the girls’ restroom and violating the privacy of dozens of underage girls was just a “prank to blow off steam”?! “Ms. Gable, this is a sex crime!” My voice rose, drawing stares from the other teachers in the room. Ms. Gable’s face darkened. She stood up, crossing her arms, and looked down her nose at me. “Watch your mouth! Let’s not use such dramatic words to scare people.” She looked me up and down, her eyes dripping with condescension. “Besides, even if there was a camera, they’d only be filming the pretty girls with actual figures.” “With Chloe’s flat, boyish body and those oversized sweaters she wears, even if she was caught on camera, who would even want to watch that?” “If you want attention, find a better excuse. Stop making a scene just to get noticed!” I laughed out of sheer shock. It was utterly absurd. This was a teacher at a prestigious private academy? It turned out Ms. Gable wasn’t just a social climber—she was completely devoid of human decency. “Since you think it’s such a minor issue, I wonder if you’ll be just as forgiving when you see this.” I smiled coldly, pulled out my phone, and played a video right in front of her face. The video didn’t just show the girls. It showed Ms. Gable herself. In the footage, she walked into the restroom, climbed onto the toilet seat, and carefully adjusted the camera’s angle. She even looked directly into the lens and flashed a sickening, sycophantic smile. Ms. Gable’s face turned instantly white. Even her thick makeup couldn’t hide the ghostly pallor of her skin. She lunged forward, trying to grab my phone. I stepped back swiftly, slipping the phone back into my pocket. “What’s the matter? Nervous now?” I sneered. “As a teacher, you didn’t just cover for a predator—you actively helped him adjust his lens.” “Ms. Gable, your lack of morals is truly a work of art.” Ms. Gable glared at me, her eyes filled with venom. She didn’t look like a teacher anymore; she looked like a cornered snake. “Eleanor, don’t you dare push your luck!” “You think you can threaten me with a cheap video?” “Let me tell you something. The boy who installed that camera is Stephen Howard!” “His father is the school board trustee, a very powerful man!” “If you expose this, not only will your daughter become the laughingstock of the entire city, but she’ll also lose her enrollment. She won’t even be allowed to take her midterms!” “The Howards have a hundred ways to make sure you and your daughter can never show your faces in this state again!” She was trying to use raw power and victim-blaming to shut me up. If I were just a regular, helpless single mother, her words might have terrified me. But looking at her twisted, ugly face, I only felt deep disgust. “Chloe is the victim here. The ones who should be hiding in the dark are rats like you!” I had no interest in wasting more breath on this trash. I turned on my heel. “Since you refuse to do your job, I’ll go straight to the principal.” “Let’s see who really runs Lincoln High School!” Behind me, Ms. Gable shrieked in rage: “Go ahead! Let’s see if the principal sides with the school’s biggest donor, or a broke, hysterical housewife like you!”

The door to Principal Higgins’ office was slightly ajar. When I pushed it open, Higgins was sitting behind his massive mahogany desk, casually enjoying a cup of freshly brewed espresso. When he saw me enter, his relaxed smile instantly vanished. Clearly, Ms. Gable had already warned him on WhatsApp. “Eleanor, Ms. Gable has already briefed me on the situation,” Higgins said, pointing to the leather sofa across from him. His tone was warm, but it carried the heavy, unyielding weight of authority. I didn’t sit. I stood right in front of his desk, looking down at him coldly. “Since you already know, how does the school plan to handle this disgusting criminal act?” Higgins sighed, putting on a show of deep sorrow as he took a sip of his coffee. “Eleanor, you’re using very extreme language.” “Kids nowadays are just overly curious. They lack proper boundary education.” “I’ve already called Stephen into my office and given him a very stern warning.” “He deeply regrets his actions and has assured me that all the videos have been permanently deleted.” “Midterms are next week. These kids’ futures are what matter most.” “For the sake of Chloe’s reputation, I think we should handle this quietly and internally.” Handle it internally? I slammed the flash drive onto his mahogany desk with a loud thud. “Principal Higgins, this drive contains crystal-clear footage, and that camera had a cloud-upload feature!” “Your simple ‘he deleted them’ doesn’t guarantee these videos aren’t already circulating on the dark web!” “It doesn’t guarantee the safety of those innocent girls!” “This is a felony. You cannot just sweep this under the rug!” Higgins’ expression went cold. He set his coffee cup down, his mask of warmth slipping away to reveal the ruthless businessman underneath. “Eleanor, don’t be so stubborn. You need to know when to let things go.” He stood up, walked over to me, and lowered his voice. “Stephen’s father just donated a ten-million-dollar science center to this school.” “Stephen himself is on track for an Ivy League admission.” “If you insist on making a scene, what does Chloe gain? Nothing.” “If the Howards decide to use their influence, Chloe’s three years of hard work here will go down the drain in a second.” It was a blatant, shameless threat. They wanted to trade my daughter’s future for a predator’s safety. Rage surged through me, hot and suffocating. “Principal Higgins, you are actively protecting a criminal! Aren’t you afraid of what happens when I go to the media?” Higgins let out a dry, mocking laugh, looking at me like I was an idiot. “Go ahead. Try.” “Lincoln High’s PR team is world-class, and the Howard family’s legal department is even better.” “Think about how the media will spin Chloe’s story. The public doesn’t care about the truth; they care about drama.” “How does this headline sound? ‘Climbing the Social Ladder: Schoolgirl Tries to Seduce Billionaire’s Son, Invents Fake Slander After Rejection.’” “You’d be driving your own daughter to the edge of a cliff, Eleanor.” Every word was designed to cut a mother’s heart. He knew exactly what a mother feared most. He opened his desk drawer, pulled out a pre-prepared non-disclosure agreement, and slid it toward me. “Sign this NDA. The school will guarantee Chloe’s graduation with top honors, a stellar recommendation letter, and $100,000 in cash for ‘mental distress.’” “Take the money, let your daughter focus on her exams, and everyone wins.” I looked down at the agreement. Every clause was written to protect the predator, demanding that we waive all rights to sue. This was their version of justice. Using wealth and power to step on the dignity of ordinary people. I grabbed the agreement, looked Higgins dead in the eye, and ripped it to shreds. Rip. The paper confetti drifted to the floor, like a eulogy for the school’s dead conscience. “Go to hell with your win-win deal!” I pointed a finger straight at Higgins, my voice dropping to a deadly whisper. “I see this place for what it is now. This prestigious school is nothing but a dumpster of filth.” “You won’t handle it? Fine.” “We are nowhere near done. Just watch me.” I turned and stormed out, slamming the door on his furious shouts.

I didn’t call the police right away. I knew that against a powerhouse like the Howards, if the evidence wasn’t airtight and absolute, they would easily slip away. I called Chloe out of school for three days and kept her at home. The moment we got home, I contacted an old friend from my journalism days—a highly skilled ethical hacker. I sent him the IP address of the cloud transmitter card and asked him to track where the uploaded videos were going. But while I was frantically gathering evidence, a muffled scream came from Chloe’s bedroom. I burst inside. Chloe was staring at her phone, shaking like a leaf in autumn, tears streaming down her pale face. “Chloe, what’s wrong?” I asked, grabbing the phone from her hands. It was her class Snapchat group. Stephen had posted a heavily pixelated screenshot. Even though the critical areas and her face were blurred, the tear on the school blazer in the photo was unmistakable. Chloe had accidentally torn it a few days ago, and everyone in class knew it. Stephen: [Wow, someone acts like a saint in class, but turns out she’s quite the wild one in private. ] Boy A: [Damn, Stephen! You got the good stuff! Send the unblurred version!] Boy B: [Honestly, she’s so flat. Waste of data.] Girl C: [Omg, disgusting. I always knew she was a fake.] The group chat exploded with vulgar jokes, disgusting comments, and malicious rumors. Ms. Gable, the group administrator, did absolutely nothing to stop the cyberbullying. Instead, she posted a cold, formal announcement. Ms. Gable: [Everyone, focus on your midterms. Do not discuss non-academic matters here.] [Also, certain students need to reflect on their own behavior. There is no smoke without fire. Don’t bring shame to our class reputation.] On the surface, she was telling everyone to stay focused. In reality, she was throwing Chloe to the wolves. Chloe stared at the screen, her face completely drained of color. She couldn’t even cry anymore. She looked entirely broken, sitting on the edge of the bed with hollow, empty eyes. “Mom… why are they doing this to me?” “I didn’t do anything wrong. I just went to the restroom…” “How am I ever going to show my face again?” My heart felt like it was being ripped apart and thrown into boiling oil. I grabbed her phone and recorded a voice note straight to the group chat. “Stephen Howard, this is cyber harassment and distribution of explicit material of a minor. I have documented everything. Get ready to go to prison!” The group chat went dead silent. A second later, a direct message from Stephen popped up. [Who do you think you’re scaring? My dad plays golf with Deputy Chief Paul of the city police. Go ahead and report it, see what happens.] [If you go to the cops or say another word to anyone, the unblurred, high-def version of Chloe will be on every site in this state by tomorrow morning.] [Get Chloe ready to be famous! ] Pure, unchecked arrogance. This was the power his family’s wealth gave him—the belief that he could stomp on anyone’s dignity without consequence. I took a deep breath, turned off the phone, and looked at Chloe. I walked over, cupped her cold cheeks, and forced her to look me in the eyes. “Chloe, listen to me.” “You did nothing wrong. The ones who are wrong are that predator, the disgusting bystanders, and the corrupt teacher covering it up.” “The more you hide, the more they laugh. The more you fear them, the worse they will get.” “We are not running away.” Chloe shook her head violently, her eyes filled with terror. “No! Mom, please, I don’t want to go back there!” “They’ll laugh at me! I’d rather die!” I pulled her into a tight embrace, my tears finally slipping down. “Don’t worry. Mom is here. Even if I have to tear the sky down, I will not let them hurt you.” “Go change into your uniform. We are going to school right now.” “We are going to take back your dignity, proudly and publicly.”

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I was born without a uterus. It was a secret I kept from everyone, even my parents. On my eighteenth birthday, my parents found their biological daughter. At her welcome-home gala, the real heiress, Melody, held her champagne glass and clinked it against mine. The moment our glasses touched, a cold, mechanical voice rang clearly in my head: [Ding! Target detected: Seraphina Vance. Level: Top-tier beauty. Initiate plunder?] Melody screamed in her mind: [Yes! Plunder it all! Why does she get to enjoy my life so effortlessly?! I want it all back! Her face, her grace, everything!] [Command confirmed. Plunder initiated. Irreversible.] A moment later, a strange warmth bloomed deep in my lower abdomen. And Melody suddenly looked radiant, her skin glowing under the chandelier. She looked at me, a sweet, triumphant smile playing on her lips. “Sera, I hope we get along.” I met her eyes and curled my lips into a gentle smile. “Welcome home, Melody.” It was as if she had been digitally enhanced. Her features softened, her skin turned translucent, and standing under the light, she was breathtakingly beautiful. The guests began to whisper. “Was the real Vance daughter always this gorgeous?” “The Vance genetics are insane.” “Sera used to be the star, but tonight she looks… a bit faded, doesn’t she?” I heard it all. I looked at myself in the full-length mirror. My features were the same, but the sharp, captivating allure was gone. I looked like a porcelain vase that had lost its glaze. Still clean, but no longer priceless. Richard Vance quickly recovered, pulling Melody to the center of the room to introduce her to the crowd. “This is Melody. Our biological daughter. The true heiress of the Vance empire.” Melody stood in the center of the crowd, soaking in the admiration. Occasionally, she glanced at me, the smugness in her eyes barely concealed. I ignored her, set my glass down, and walked out onto the balcony. The night breeze brushed against me, but the warmth in my lower abdomen hadn’t faded. It felt completely foreign. When I was fifteen, I realized I was different from other girls. While they complained about period cramps and whispered about tampons, I had nothing. I secretly went to the hospital. The diagnosis was cold and absolute: Congenital absence of uterus and vaginal aplasia. MRKH Syndrome. From that day on, I locked that secret away. The Vance family arranged annual physicals for me, but I always paid a private clinic to falsified my gynecological records to avoid deep exams. I knew my family too well. If they found out I was sterile, my engagement to Julian Sterling would be instantly terminated. I would go from being the Vance family’s most exquisite ornament to their most embarrassing piece of trash. Halfway through the party, I went to the restroom to touch up my makeup. Just as I reached the corner, I heard Melody’s muffled, ecstatic laughter. She was hiding behind the terrace door, tracing her face with trembling fingers. “System, did it work?” The robotic voice rang again. [Top-tier beauty plunder complete.] [Transfer progress: 100%.] [Target Seraphina’s aesthetic aura has been significantly weakened.] Melody’s voice shook with excitement. “It’s irreversible, right? She can never take it back?” [Once the command is executed, it cannot be undone.] “Perfect.” She let out a low laugh. “Sera actually has a day like this. She occupied my spot for eighteen years. Why did everyone love her? Now, her face is mine. Next, I want her fiancé, her poise, and that high-and-mighty attitude she always has in a crowd.” I stood silently behind the wall, listening to every word. So, she was that happy. When a prey willingly bites the hook, the last thing you want to do is startle it. I gently placed my hand over my lower abdomen. A trace of that warm sensation still lingered there. It felt like a crack was being pried open in a place that had been frozen for eighteen years. Melody thought she was stealing my face. But she didn’t know. Once you start taking things that don’t belong to you, you can’t stop. And what I wanted was never just that face.

The next day, I went to the hospital alone. Eleanor Vance was too busy taking Melody to Tiffany’s to care about me. No one in the family had time for me anymore. Dr. Avery stared at my scan results for a long time. She pulled up my records from three months ago, comparing them side by side. Her professional composure cracked, replaced by utter disbelief. “Sera, have you undergone any experimental treatments recently?” “No.” She pushed the scan toward me. “This is medically impossible.” “What changed?” I asked. Dr. Avery lowered her voice. “Your previous diagnosis was clear: congenital absence of uterus. But today’s pelvic ultrasound shows… the formation of a uterine-like structure.” My fingertips tightened. “Is it fully developed?” “Not yet. It’s like a shadow, an outline. And the vaginal canal shows signs of lengthening.” She stared at me. “In medical history, a spontaneous reversal like this is practically nonexistent.” I looked down at the black-and-white scan. My eyes stung, but my abdomen felt warm. When I walked out of the hospital, my fiancé, Julian Sterling, was leaning against his car, holding a cup of warm water. “Why didn’t you call me to pick you up?” “Don’t you have to accompany Melody today?” He frowned. “Why would I do that?” I smiled and took the cup. “Just asking.” He studied my face, concern in his eyes. “You look pale.” “Just tired from the exams,” I replied softly. He opened the passenger door for me. “Let’s get you home.” As the car pulled away, I caught a glimpse of a figure in the rearview mirror. Melody was standing behind a concrete pillar in the hospital lobby, glaring at us. She looked even more beautiful today than yesterday. But the jealousy in her eyes was also far heavier. Once Melody got her new face, she was desperate to prove herself. She began showing up around Julian constantly. Eleanor played along perfectly. One day, she’d claim Melody was new to the high-society circle and needed Julian to guide her. The next day, she’d say Melody was feeling down and ask Julian to drop her off. Julian refused most of the time. His rejections were cold and direct. “I’m busy.” “Have your driver do it.” “Ask Mrs. Vance.” Every time, the smile on Melody’s face grew stiffer. I watched it all unfold and said nothing. At the end of the month, Julian’s mother, Victoria Sterling, hosted her birthday charity gala. Eleanor took Melody to pick out gowns three days in advance. They chose a haute couture silver gown for Melody, making her look like a rare winter rose. When it was my turn, Eleanor casually pointed at a plain, muted grey dress. “You shouldn’t wear anything too bright lately, Sera.” I nodded. “This is fine.” Melody stood in front of the mirror, smiling sweetly. “Sera looks elegant even in plain colors.” I met her gaze. “Thank you, Melody.” She hated how calm I was. She wanted to see me break. She wanted to see me lose my mind because I was losing my beauty. But the calmer I remained, the more anxious she became.

At the gala, Melody presented Victoria with a rare, vintage Cartier brooch. It was incredibly expensive. Victoria accepted it with a polite, polite “Thank you, how thoughtful.” When it was my turn, I handed over a modest, velvet box. Inside was a rare, first-edition sheet music folio of Chopin. At last year’s gala, Victoria had casually mentioned that her late grandmother used to play these exact arrangements. I had remembered. Victoria opened the box, and her eyes instantly softened. “Sera, how did you find this?” “I got lucky at an auction.” She pulled me down to sit next to her, asking how I had been. Melody stood a few feet away, her face darkening by the second. She had the perfect face now. But Victoria still wouldn’t look at her. Halfway through the dinner, I went to the terrace for some fresh air. Through the half-open glass door, I heard Melody cornering Julian. “What does she have that I don’t?” Julian’s voice was deadpan. “Melody, you don’t need to compare yourself to Sera.” “Why not? I am the biological Vance daughter! She is just an imposter! Even her face isn’t as beautiful as mine now. Why are you still looking at her?” A few seconds of silence followed. Then Julian spoke, his tone chillingly indifferent. “Because she is Seraphina.” That one sentence crushed Melody’s pride into dust. A second later, I heard her calling her system in her mind. [I want whatever it is that keeps Julian obsessed with her.] [I want her sexual allure. Her feminine attraction.] The system’s voice warned: [Warning. This attribute is deeply bound to the target’s intimate relationships, reproductive expectations, and physical costs. Plundering will result in an irreversible transfer of these physical conditions.] Melody grit her teeth. “Do it.” A sharp, electric sting spread from deep within my lower abdomen. I gripped the terrace railing. It wasn’t painful. It felt more like a heavy, suffocating lock was finally being clicked open. When Melody stepped out from behind the door, her face was slightly pale, but her eyes were manic. She saw me and smirked. “Sera, what are you doing out here?” “Getting some air.” She stepped closer, whispering, “Don’t you think the wind is freezing tonight?” I smiled gently. “Is it? I actually think spring is coming.” The next day, I fainted in the campus library. Melody immediately rushed over to hold me, her eyes red as she sobbed, “Sera, we are family. Please stop pushing me away.” The moment her arms wrapped around me, the system initiated the final phase of the extraction. My vision went black, and my ears buzzed. When I woke up in the clinic, the doctor said it was just low blood sugar. Melody was sitting by my bed, holding my hand. “Sera, you scared me to death.” She put on a flawless performance. Several classmates around us were visibly moved. “Melody is actually so sweet to her.” “Yeah, there’s no need for the adopted sister to be so hostile.” I pulled my hand back. “I need to use the restroom.” The moment the stall door locked behind me, I looked down. There was a spot of blood on my underwear.

I stared at it, frozen. For eighteen years. I was seeing my very first period. My throat tightened, and tears hot and fast blurred my vision. An overwhelming wave of ecstasy flooded my chest. I had a uterus. I gently touched my abdomen. I could finally be a normal woman. I could fall in love, get married, and carry my own child without carrying the weight of being “defective.” My phone buzzed. It was Julian. He called me by his usual nickname. “Sera.” But his next words were completely different. “Melody was crying for hours.” I said nothing. His voice dropped, carrying a hint of frustration. “She genuinely wants to make peace with you. Why do you have to humiliate her?” I gripped the phone. “I humiliated her?” “Sera, stop acting clueless,” he snapped, accusing me for the first time. “She just came back to the family. She’s insecure. You’ve enjoyed the Vance lifestyle for eighteen years, and you’re engaged to me. You took so much from her. Do you really have to play the victim now?” I listened to his voice—once so familiar, now so cold. It was like watching a cherished photo get splattered with mud. “So?” I asked. “I’m coming over to your house tonight,” he said. “The engagement was always an alliance between the Vance and Sterling families. Now that the real daughter is back, the engagement should be returned to her.” Returned to her. He said it so casually. As if my eighteen years of life were just a coat I was keeping warm for Melody. “Is this your decision?” I asked quietly. “Yes.” He paused, delivering the final blow. “It’s only fair to everyone.” I let out a soft laugh. “You change fast, Julian.” He was silent for a few seconds. When he spoke again, his tone was icy. “Don’t use that tone with me, Sera. You used to be reasonable.” I hung up. When I returned to the Vance estate that evening, Julian was already there. Melody was sitting next to him, his jacket draped over her shoulders. Eleanor looked relieved. Richard looked pleased. Seeing me walk downstairs, Julian stood up. “Sera, we need to talk.” “No need,” I said. “I heard you on the phone.” He frowned. “Good.” In front of my parents, he placed the Sterling family engagement ring on the coffee table. “Mr. and Mrs. Vance, I’d like to officially transfer the engagement to Melody.” Eleanor gasped, her face lighting up with joy. Melody’s eyes welled with tears. “Julian…” Julian looked at me. His eyes no longer held any warmth, only a condescending pity. “Sera, you need to understand your place. Melody is the true Vance. You’ve enjoyed eighteen years of a life that didn’t belong to you. Don’t stand in her way now.” The living room fell into a suffocating silence. I looked at him. He was completely under the system’s influence. I smiled faintly. “Okay.”

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I worked my butt off for three years to become the Design Director. But today, the General Manager handed the position to his newly graduated college mentee. He looked me in the eye and said, “Harper, you’re getting older. Your creativity and energy just can’t compete with the younger crowd. It’s time to step aside.” I fought back, my voice trembling. “But I led the team to complete every single major project in this company!” “That was because the company gave you the resources! It doesn’t prove your personal capability!” “Ethan! You know damn well—” “Harper! Call me Mr. Vance! At work, I am your superior, not your husband! Please cooperate with the company’s transfer!” Chloe chimed in, trying to play the peacemaker. “Ethan, maybe I should just give the position back to your wife. I don’t want to cause trouble.” Ethan didn’t even bother to correct her familiar way of calling his name. Instead, his voice softened significantly when he spoke to her. “Business is not a game, Chloe. I’ve already notified HR. It’s official.” “Just focus on your new role. I’ll personally teach you anything you don’t understand.” But when he turned his gaze back to me, his eyes were freezing cold. “You will continue to work on your current projects. When they’re done, just submit them to Chloe for approval.” So, I was supposed to do all the heavy lifting, while Chloe took all the credit. I looked at the face of this man—the man I had been married to for five years and worked with for eight. Suddenly, I laughed. “No need. I’m resigning right now.” I didn’t want the Design Director position anymore. And I didn’t want to be Mrs. Vance either.

When I walked back to my desk to draft my resignation letter, Ethan followed me. “You’ve been here for eight years, Harper. Don’t throw away everything you’ve worked so hard for just because you’re throwing a tantrum.” “You’re not a fresh graduate. Do I really need to teach you how the real world works?” So, he did know how hard I had worked to get everything I had. Yet, he chose to hand the fruits of my labor to another woman. My eyes burned, but my fingers didn’t stop typing. “Mr. Vance, this is working hours. Please do not micromanage your employee’s personal decisions.” His breathing turned heavy. Sensing the curious glances from the surrounding cubicles, he lowered his voice. “Do you have any idea how hard it is for someone your age to find a job? If you go out for interviews now, you’ll get filtered out in the first round!” “Stop being so naive!” I pulled the resignation letter from the printer and signed my name without a second thought. “Mr. Vance, will you sign it?” He snatched the paper, his face darkened with rage. “Harper, do you really have to push things this far?” “I’m not pushing anything. I just don’t want to work here anymore.” “There are still several projects that need your final touch. If you leave like this, what is Chloe supposed to do?” Finally, the truth came out. He didn’t care about me leaving; he just wanted me to pave a smooth road for his precious mentee before I vanished. I opened my laptop, uploaded the resignation letter, and hit send, CC’ing both Ethan and HR. “Can you approve it now?” “I don’t think you want me to personally explain to HR that you’re holding up my resignation because of our personal relationship, right?” I knew he hated mixing business with pleasure more than anything. In our eight years of working together, he never let me step into his office alone. If there was work, he would come to my cubicle to brief me. Even when I was sick, he never let me carpool with him to work. When I worked late and forgot to eat, he would rather send me a Snapchat message telling me to pick up takeout at the front desk than bring me a bite of food himself. I used to think there was nothing wrong with that. Keeping business and personal life strictly separated was our mutual rule. But since Chloe arrived, I realized that rules weren’t unbreakable. It just depended on who they were being broken for. She could eat with him in the cafeteria, and she could leave her personal belongings in his office. He would proudly introduce her to everyone: “This is my college junior, please take good care of her.” Yet, he never let anyone in the office know that I was his wife.

So, I was absolutely sure he wouldn’t let me go to HR. Sure enough, he loosened his tie, glaring at me as he spat out through his teeth: “Fine. Don’t regret this!” “I will personally oversee Chloe’s upcoming projects. Don’t think this company can’t run without you!” “You have one month to hand over all your work to Director Chloe. After that, I won’t stop you.” He turned and stormed back into the General Manager’s office before I could reply. Before the door slammed shut, the last thing I saw was him gently draping a blanket over Chloe, who was fast asleep on his office couch. My stomach churned. Even though I tried to act like I didn’t care, I couldn’t ignore the dull ache in my gut. But that didn’t stop me from grabbing my phone and sending a text to a contact: “I’ll resign in a month. Let’s meet to discuss the package.” It was late when I took two subway transfers and finally made it home. Ethan wasn’t back yet. Usually, he drove and I took the subway, so he was always home before me. I sat on the couch in the dark, quietly looking around the apartment we had lived in for five years. Back when we bought this place, Ethan wasn’t the General Manager yet. We were just ordinary designers. We saved every penny for a long time to afford the down payment on this condo. Even though it was far from downtown and had a terrible layout, I felt it was all worth it because it gave me a sense of belonging. But sitting here tonight, for some reason, it felt incredibly foreign. At 10:00 PM, Ethan walked through the door holding a cake box. I was slightly stunned. We didn’t have the habit of celebrating anniversaries. Maybe today’s fight made him feel uneasy, and he wanted to use this to smooth things over. Seeing me on the couch, he looked surprised. “You’re still awake?” I stood up and walked over. But my hand froze in mid-air. Half of the cake was gone. The heart-shaped center had been scooped out and eaten. I stared at it for a few seconds, making sure it wasn’t just some weird artistic design. He tossed the box onto the dining table carelessly. “I bought it to celebrate Chloe’s promotion, but she only took a few bites and said she was worried about the calories.” “I remembered you said you wanted cake the other day, so I brought the rest back for you.” My throat felt like it was blocked by a rock. I couldn’t make a sound. Years ago, to pay off the mortgage, I never bought any nice clothes. I wore hand-me-downs from my older sister. When I went to the grocery store, I only bought the bruised, discounted vegetables. But from the day we finally paid off the house, I told him: I, Harper, will never take anyone’s leftovers again. And now, he wanted me to eat a leftover cake that he had bought for another woman. As the sound of the shower started running in the bathroom, I unlocked my phone and began drafting a divorce agreement. The next morning, Ethan and I stood at the elevator door together. I looked at him, confused. This wasn’t his usual time to leave. He was smiling, texting on his phone, and said casually, “Chloe is having her period today and isn’t feeling well. I’m going to pick her up.” “If I remember correctly, her apartment is a forty-minute detour, right?” “It’s just forty minutes. Just a press on the gas pedal.” The elevator mirror reflected our faces. One was pale and exhausted, even with full makeup. The other was glowing, staring happily at his screen. My mind drifted back to a rainy day when I was shopping with my friend. It was pouring, and I called him to pick me up from the subway station. He had said, “Just Uber back. Driving out in this weather is too much trouble.” A ten-minute drive was “too much trouble,” but forty minutes was just “a press on the gas pedal.” When the elevator reached the lobby, he hesitated for a second. “Do you… want a ride?” I shook my head and stepped out. He looked relieved as he pressed the close button.

When the elevator indicator showed he had reached the parking garage, I pulled out my phone and called Chloe. “I’m taking the morning off.” “Reason?” she asked, sounding entitled. “Buying a car.” “Did you tell Ethan?” “No need.” By the time I hung up, I was already in a cab heading to the dealership. Browsing, test-driving, signing, paying, and taking the keys. It took less than half a day to get everything done. When I pressed the key fob and my new SUV beeped in response, a sense of liberation washed over me. That was when Ethan finally called. I picked up. “Harper! Buying a car is a huge deal! Why didn’t you discuss it with me?” “I used my own money.” “That’s not what I mean! Do you even know how to pick a good car? Come back now, I’ll go with you when I have time.” “You’ve been saying that for two years.” “But I still took the subway for two years.” The line went dead silent. When I parked the car at the company garage, Ethan was already waiting there. “You drove back alone? How long has it been since you last drove? Do you know how dangerous that is?” Looking at his anxious face, I almost laughed out loud. When the heavy rain flooded the subway station and I had to walk two miles home in the storm, he wasn’t worried. When I sprained my ankle and limped to the subway every day, he wasn’t worried. When I worked until 2:00 AM and took a cab home alone, he wasn’t worried. But now that I had my own car, he suddenly cared about my safety. “Ethan, I hired a driving instructor. I’ll be fine after a few laps.” He froze. In the past, if he scolded me like this, I would have argued back. I would have stayed up all night just to prove him wrong. But now, I was as calm as if I were answering what I had for breakfast. His expression hardened. “Harper, you… seem different.” A delivery guy interrupted us, running toward Ethan. Ethan stepped forward to take the paper bag. “Chloe didn’t eat lunch. It took me forever to convince her to drink a cup of coffee. Kids these days,” he mumbled, shaking his head with a fond smile. “Not like us back then…” I cut him off. “Yeah, not like us back then, when we couldn’t even afford a single cup of Starbucks.” His smile froze on his face. I didn’t stop. I walked straight past him and went to the office. At 4:00 PM, I was doing the handover with Chloe. Ethan walked in with two cups of iced coffee. I frowned. In eight years, this was the first time he had ever brought anything to my desk. I knew I was just benefiting from Chloe’s presence. She squealed with joy and threw her arms around his neck. Ethan instinctively caught her, but when his eyes met mine, he quickly pushed her away. “I was just worried you guys… might be thirsty.” Chloe took a sip, giggling. “Thanks, Ethan! You’re the sweetest!” “Since you cover all my meals, I’m saving so much money!” Ethan saw that I hadn’t touched my cup. “Why aren’t you drinking? Try it.” I pushed the cup away. “No thanks, Mr. Vance. Did you forget I’m highly allergic to caffeine?” His face turned sour. Seeing no one was looking, he lowered his voice. “This is exactly why I hate buying you things. You never give any positive feedback.” “Have you ever bought me anything?” I asked flatly. His Adam’s apple bobbed. He muttered something about “just trying to be nice” and walked away. I thought the handover would go quickly so I could leave early. But Chloe was way more difficult than I anticipated. I had already organized all client folders by industry standards and archived all design drafts.

She looked at the screen and sneered. “Your file formats are a mess. I don’t understand them.” “And you only have digital copies. What if the server crashes? I need you to handwrite the project sources and client contact details for every single account.” After two weeks of her constant rejection and nitpicking, I finally lost my patience and slammed my hand on the desk. Ethan, who had been playing deaf and dumb for days, immediately summoned us to his office. “Harper, what is your problem?” “Chloe is the Design Director now. You do what she says. I won’t sign your resignation until Director Chloe is completely satisfied!” Chloe gave me a smug look. Before leaving, she turned to me and said, “Oh, and bring a vanilla latte to my office, will you?” I crossed my arms and looked at Ethan. “Ethan, is this what you call keeping business and personal life separate?” “Harper, whether you like it or not, she is the Director now. If you embarrass her in public, how is she supposed to lead the team?” “If you’re done venting, get out. It doesn’t look good for us to be alone in here.” For the first time in five years of marriage, I felt suffocated standing in the same room with him. “According to labor laws, I am leaving in exactly thirty days. She can deal with it.” Before starting at my new job, I needed to pack, move, and sell the condo. I didn’t have time to play games with them. On my last day, my desk was completely cleared except for a coffee mug and my personal laptop. Since Ethan had to attend a conference at the headquarters today, he had signed my release forms yesterday. My offboarding was officially complete. After saying goodbye to some colleagues, I picked up my box, ready to walk out. But Chloe and a couple of security guards blocked the exit. “Harper, we suspect you have confidential company data on your personal laptop. We need to seize it for our IT department to inspect.” That laptop contained all my hard work from the past few years. I took it home with me every single day. There was no way I was letting them touch it. “I can show you the files here, but you are not taking my property.” Chloe let out a cold laugh. “You have a lot of new design templates and custom fonts on there, don’t you?” I froze. Those were the templates I created after deciding to resign, meant for my upcoming portfolio. I hadn’t told a soul. The only person who had access to my laptop password was Ethan. Chloe raised her voice, making sure the entire office could hear. “Some people have zero professional ethics. The company spent so much money training her, yet she refuses to hand over core materials.” “If everyone acted like this, how is our department supposed to function?” I had tried to leave peacefully, but that didn’t mean she could walk all over me. “This is my personal laptop. The templates and fonts are my original creations, developed in my own time. They have nothing to do with this company.” “You have no legal right to confiscate my work!” A few colleagues nearby started whispering in my defense. “Yeah, everyone knows Harper did most of the work here. Her drafts are always original. Why would she need to steal anything?” “Exactly. Someone’s just throwing their weight around.” Chloe’s face flushed with anger. She snapped at the guards, “What are you waiting for? Grab the laptop!” “If the company loses precious data, can you guys afford the damages?” She pointed a finger at the whispering staff. “Anyone who wants to follow her out the door is welcome to help her!” Everyone quickly looked down, pretending to be busy. Two guards grabbed my arms. Chloe easily unlocked my laptop using Ethan’s birthday. She clicked through a few folders, smirked, and said, “Well, nothing special anyway.” She held the laptop out to me. But my arms were pinned back by the guards. I couldn’t reach it. She smiled, opened her hand, and let the laptop drop. Crash. Then, she stepped on the screen with her sharp stiletto heel. The LCD screen shattered into webbed cracks.

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Because of a pet custody battle, my lawyer husband, Ethan Vance, was suing me for the eighth time. During the trial, Ethan finally compromised and sent me a Snapchat message: [Name your price. Just give Peaches to Chloe.] He used to be a man of absolute integrity. To avoid a conflict of interest, he had watched my dad get framed and sent to prison without lifting a finger. But now, to help Chloe steal a dog we raised together, he had forged twenty-six pieces of evidence. He forged Peaches’ birth certificate and purchase records. I had refused to back down, fighting him through seven bitter court battles. But to everyone’s shock, this time, I remained silent. “Your Honor, I yield. I won’t fight anymore.” Then, I sent Ethan a message: [My only condition is that you appeal and reopen my dad’s embezzlement case.] Across the courtroom, Ethan let out a sigh of relief. But what he didn’t know was that hidden inside the custody transfer papers he just signed was a set of divorce papers. “Give me the password to the pet’s Instagram account. I’m deleting it,” Ethan ordered, catching up to me outside the courtroom. He always thought I ran that account just for clout and views. But he failed to see that my camera was always pointed at him. It was a record of our happiest moments. I handed him my phone and watched him tap “Delete” without a second thought. An account with nearly a million followers vanished in an instant. “If we kept it, your crazy fans would definitely harass Chloe. It’s better to avoid the drama.” Ethan waved the forged evidence in my face before tossing it into the trash can. A smug, victorious smirk played on his lips. He looked like a man who had just won a war. Except I was the casualty. Chloe cuddled into Ethan’s arms, holding Peaches’ leash. She looked cute, innocent, and utterly pitiful. “Ethan, I promise this is the last time I’ll be selfish.” Then she blinked her big, watery eyes, looking at me with a pleading expression. “I just love Peaches so much. Stella, you won’t blame me, right? Please forgive me.” She tilted her head, her triumph barely concealed. There wasn’t a shred of genuine remorse in her eyes. Peaches was a Samoyed that Ethan and I had raised since she was a puppy. She had witnessed our entire journey—from our first date to our wedding, spanning eight long years. Ethan once told me, “Stella, we’re going to raise her forever. You’re her mom, and I’m her dad.” I clenched my fists so hard my nails dug into my palms. Yet Ethan just gently ruffled Chloe’s hair, his voice dripping with tenderness. “You get whatever you want, Chloe. It’s just a dog.” The sudden deletion of our million-follower account sent shockwaves through our online community. [Peaches has been Stella’s dog since day one! How could she belong to someone else?] [Is this some cheap publicity stunt?] [This girl literally stole the dog, and her lawyer husband is helping her do it?] As the backlash grew, Chloe looked visibly humiliated. Ethan immediately went online to defend her. He posted on Instagram: [My wife lost her mother at a young age, and her father is currently in prison. It’s natural for her to seek attention, which is why she’s been hoarding my adoptive sister’s dog.] My painful past, the shame of my family, was dragged into the spotlight for millions of strangers to see. My phone blew up with a torrent of hateful messages. Ethan wrapped his arm around Chloe as they walked ahead, laughing and chatting. “Peaches is so white and fluffy, just like you.” “Are you calling me a dog? You’re the Golden Retriever here!” Their voices faded into the distance. Ethan didn’t notice me pulling out my phone to text the hospital. “Hi, I’d like to book an appointment for an abortion.”

The next day, Ethan and I were supposed to meet to discuss my dad’s appeal. I waited outside his office for three agonizing hours. Finally, his secretary walked out with a conflicted expression. “Mrs. Vance, Mr. Vance is tied up with something urgent and won’t be back for a while. Maybe you should…” Holding a stack of evidence half my height, all the strength drained from my body. The papers slipped from my hands, scattering all over the floor. The statute of limitations for my dad’s case was expiring in just three days. I got down on my knees, desperately scraping the papers together. Just then, my phone buzzed with a notification. It was Chloe’s Instagram story. The background was a veterinary clinic. Ethan was right beside her, helping her deworm Peaches. [I told him I could handle this alone, but he insisted on skipping work to be with me. Is this what it feels like to be cherished? Last year, when my appendix ruptured, Ethan refused to set foot in the hospital. He had simply messaged me: “I hate the smell of disinfectants.” My fingers gripped the phone so hard they turned white. I tried calling other lawyers, but they all politely turned me down. “Mr. Vance made it clear that since you’re his wife, helping you would be seen as a personal favor, which would compromise our professional ethics…” I carried the heavy files I had spent sleepless nights preparing and walked all the way home through the freezing wind. It was evening by the time Ethan finally returned. I was sitting on the sofa. “You promised to fulfill my condition. Help me appeal my dad’s case.” Ethan took off his coat and pinched the bridge of his nose wearily. “Even if he was framed, the prosecutor’s evidence is airtight. Even if it’s fabricated, it’s flawless.” “Besides, I’ve been drowning in work lately. Can you at least give me some breathing room?” The words caught in my throat like a shard of glass. Just minutes ago, I had stumbled upon a new joint pet account he had created with Chloe. The videos showed them riding bikes with Peaches by the lake, watching the sunset together. The comment section was filled with adoration. [Ethan looks so happy here! Unlike in those old videos where he looked so miserable. Now this is a real couple!] [The previous account felt like a business partnership. So fake.] [They look so good together! I’m glad he cut ties with that old influencer.] … He didn’t look like a man “drowning in work.” I slammed the heavy stack of files onto the coffee table. Swallowing the bitterness in my throat, I said, “You can focus on your work for the next two days.” “Just show up at the courthouse the day after tomorrow.” His rejection was instantaneous and cold. “I can’t make it the day after tomorrow. It’s Chloe’s birthday.” Before I could argue, he added, “Tomorrow doesn’t work either. Chloe and I are shooting a video, and I need to write the script tonight.” Tears finally spilled over. “My dad can’t wait! He has a severe heart condition!” Ethan closed his eyes, exhaling a sigh of utter exasperation. “Stella, I’m going to be blunt.” “Your dad’s case is just a financial dispute. He’ll be out in a few years anyway. There’s no need to waste our time on this.” I stared at him in absolute disbelief. I couldn’t believe those words had come out of his mouth. Before I could speak, his phone rang. He answered it, and his expression instantly twisted into panic. “What? Your gastritis is acting up again?” “Hold on, I’m on my way.” Ethan spun around to leave, but I grabbed the edge of his coat. “Ethan, I need to tell you… I’m preg—” In the next second, he violently shook me off. “We’ll talk tomorrow! Chloe is in so much pain she can’t even speak. It’s an emergency!” He slammed the door shut without looking back. My stomach slammed hard against the sharp corner of the coffee table. A searing pain shot through me, and a dark, warm wetness began to spread across my pants. It was blood. Blinding, crimson blood. “Ethan…” My cry for help was cut short as the heavy front door slammed shut, echoing through the empty house.

When I woke up, I was in a hospital bed. “Ms. Miller, thank goodness your housekeeper found you and got you here in time. We had to perform an emergency D&C. You need to rest.” The doctor looked at my chart, her brow deeply furrowed. “Also,” she lowered her voice gently, “your body was already quite weak, making it hard to conceive. After this trauma… it’s highly unlikely you’ll ever be able to get pregnant again.” I clutched the hospital sheets, my chest tight with agonizing pain. The little life I hadn’t even had the chance to welcome had turned into a nightmare before it even started. The doctor hesitated. “Where is your husband? I need to speak with him.” I shook my head silently. I had tried calling him three times earlier, but his phone was completely switched off. That evening, I discharged myself and went home. The moment I stepped through the door, Peaches broke free from her leash and lunged straight into me. Chloe gasped, feigning shock as she covered her mouth. “Oh my gosh, Stella, I am so sorry!” “I was just training Peaches to guard the house. I didn’t expect you to walk in.” I leaned heavily against the wall, gasping from the sudden wave of pain. My unhealed surgical wound felt like it was tearing open, and a sharp, stabbing sensation ripped through my abdomen. Ethan didn’t even look at me. He just patted Chloe’s head. “It was the dog’s fault, not yours. Don’t worry about it.” White dog hair was flying everywhere in the living room. Ethan used to be an extreme clean-freak. He used to force me to keep Peaches locked in a crate. “If I find a single dog hair in this house, she’s gone,” he used to threaten. Now, the house was a mess, and he didn’t seem to care at all. Ethan looked at me, frowning. “You spilled ketchup all over the floor and didn’t even bother to clean it up. Chloe almost slipped. Where have you been anyway?” Looking down at the bloodstains on the floor—the blood he assumed was ketchup—I clutched my stomach. “None of your business.” His face stiffened, but he quickly cleared his throat. “Chloe wanted to film some TikToks at home. I’ve been busy shooting and editing for her, so I couldn’t check on you.” While my father’s case was driving me to the brink of insanity, and while I was losing our child, he was at home editing TikToks for Chloe. He used to tell me he hated video editing and didn’t have the time to learn. Yet now, he was staying up all night to edit every single frame of Chloe’s videos. I didn’t argue. I didn’t shout. I just slowly, painfully dragged myself to the bedroom to grab my father’s legal files. Ethan followed me inside. “If it can wait, the court date can be pushed to next week. I’ll have time then.” I didn’t even look up. “It can’t wait.” There were only two days left. If the deadline passed, my dad would have to spend another three years in prison. With his heart condition, three years was a death sentence. Ethan’s face hardened. “Can you stop being so difficult for once?” “Chloe is young and depends on me. I’m her brother; is it so wrong for me to take care of her?” My voice cracked. “My father is an old man in a prison cell. He needs to be taken care of too!” Ethan completely lost his patience. “To be honest, since he’s so old, staying in prison might actually be quieter for him. It saves us a lot of trouble.” I froze. Before he could even realize the cruelty of his words, I grabbed my things and turned to leave. Chloe stepped in front of me, raising three fingers playfully. “Stella, I swear, next week I won’t bother you guys even if the sky falls. Even if Ethan insists on staying with me, I’ll turn him down.” I let out a bitter laugh. “No need.” “I refuse to believe that in this entire city, I can’t find a single lawyer who isn’t intimidated by you, Ethan.” I turned and walked away. “Stella Miller!” Ethan yelled after me, but I didn’t look back. As I stepped into the elevator, my phone rang. It was Officer Carter, my contact at the prison. “Stella… the man who framed your father just added another five years to his sentence through false testimonies. Your father… he just had a massive heart attack!”

By the time I reached the prison gates, my entire body was shaking so violently I could barely stand. Officer Carter ran out to meet me, his face grim. “He’s stable for now, and the prison doctors are treating him. But the real issue is his mental state.” “If he has to serve another five years for a crime he didn’t commit, I don’t think his heart can take it…” Instantly, the blood in my veins ran cold. There was no time to find another lawyer. I had to swallow my pride and call Ethan. “My dad was framed again. You know every detail of his case. Please, just represent him in court this once. I’m begging you…” Ethan’s voice on the other end was icy. “The moment you run into trouble, you run back to me. Didn’t you say you could find plenty of other lawyers?” “And here I thought you were finally growing up and learning to be independent.” My fingers trembled as I gripped the phone, my voice cracking with desperation. “Just this once… I’ll owe you for the rest of my life…” There was a long pause on the line before he finally spoke: “I’m not being cruel, Stella. But what if your dad actually did embezzle that corporate money? I don’t want us getting dragged into his mess.” The line went dead. The sterile dial tone felt like the final nail in my coffin, crushing the very last shred of hope in my heart. I collapsed onto the curb, dialing number after number. I called every single law firm in the directory. “I’m sorry, Ms. Miller.” “We aren’t familiar with the case files. Reviewing everything would take at least a week, and with the court date tomorrow, we just can’t do it.” Just as I was about to completely break down, a Snapchat message from Ethan popped up: [Send me your location. I’ll come find you.] An instant rush of relief and joy washed over me. I quickly sent him my location and politely declined the couple of lawyers who had slowly started calling me back. I prayed silently, over and over, that the appeal would succeed. But I waited. For three hours, Ethan never showed up. I called him twice, but both times he hung up on me. Then, a message popped up: [Peaches accidentally bit Chloe. I’m at the clinic with her getting her a rabies shot. I can’t make it.] My brain went completely numb. Right after, another text arrived: [I’m sending you the contact info of a few good attorneys. You should reach out to them.] After sending a few phone numbers, his side went completely silent. The blood in my body turned to ice. At that moment, Officer Carter called from the prison. “Ms. Miller… your father suffered another sudden cardiac arrest. The doctors did everything they could, but… he didn’t make it.” “I am so incredibly sorry for your loss.” My father’s pale, lifeless face was covered by a white sheet. He lay there, cold and still. The air left my lungs, and my knees hit the floor. A guttural scream tore from my throat as the tears finally came. My only family left in this world was gone. Once my tears ran dry, I pulled out the divorce papers Ethan had unknowingly signed, penned my signature at the bottom, and blacklisted his number on everything. It wasn’t until Ethan returned to his law office days later that he finally remembered my father’s case. He called his assistant into the office. “Retrieve my father-in-law’s case files. Let me see if there’s any ground for an appeal.” The assistant lowered his head, stammering nervously. “Sir… Mr. Miller couldn’t survive the stress of the new charges. He suffered a massive heart attack and passed away in the prison hospital.” Ethan froze, suddenly standing up. “Also,” the assistant handed him a medical document, “Mrs. Vance left this for you.”

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1 On our wedding anniversary, Zach sent a voice note claiming he was stuck at a business dinner, but the background audio betrayed him. I could clearly hear another woman’s sweet, demanding voice ordering him around. Five minutes later, his close female friend posted a cozy photo of the two of them holding sparklers on her feed. Her caption was a thinly veiled swipe at me, mocking how I could not even uncork a bottle of wine and was only good as a passive ornament in his life. In the past, I would have immediately called him to demand answers, only to be branded as hysterical and unreasonable. This time, I did not shed a single tear. I calmly tapped the heart icon to like her photo, opened a chat with a headhunter, and officially accepted a job offer in Chicago. During my final seven days before leaving, I behaved exactly as usual. I cooked his meals and accompanied him to social events, but behind his back, I quietly transferred my savings, booked a moving truck, and threw away all my old belongings. Zach was smug, genuinely believing he had finally tamed me into the perfect, silent wife. He had no idea that the moment I liked that photo, I had already checked out of our marriage. Seven days later, when he walked into an apartment stripped down to the bare walls, he completely lost his mind, racing toward an airport for a flight that would never wait for him. On the night of our wedding anniversary, the dining table was a quiet tragedy. The lobster I had stood in line for three hours to buy had gone completely cold. The red wine in the decanter had oxidized for so long that it now carried a sour, sharp smell. To prepare this meal, I had turned down my own department’s promotion dinner and rushed home two hours early. My phone screen lit up on the dark mahogany table. It was a voice message from Zach. “Summer, the dinner with Jared’s clients isn’t wrapping up anytime soon. I can’t slip away. Go ahead and eat without me, okay? I’ll buy you that designer bag you wanted next week.” The background was loud, filled with the crashing of ocean waves and heavy electronic music. A familiar, high-pitched female voice cut through the noise, calling out, “Zach, stop sending updates to the boss! Get over here and drink this shot for me!” It was Phoebe’s voice. I did not reply. I simply stood up, picked up the plate of lobster, and dumped the entire elaborate meal straight into the trash can. With a wet splash, all my carefully planned romance became nothing but garbage. I sat back on the sofa and opened social media. Just a minute ago, Phoebe had updated her feed with a grid of nine photos. The location tag showed the rooftop terrace of the most exclusive oceanfront hotel downtown. In the center photo, Phoebe was smiling brightly with a sparkler in her hand. In the background, Zach was shielding the wind with his body, leaning in close to light it for her. Under the warm glow of the sparkler, they stood incredibly close. The look in Zach’s eyes carried a relaxed tenderness I had not seen in years. In the comments, Zach’s friends were already teasing them. Zach is really playing the perfect white knight tonight. Is Summer keeping tabs on you? Phoebe had replied to one of them: Don’t be silly, Summer is very open-minded. Not like me, I can’t even open a bottle of wine without Zach’s help. Looking at the text, I only felt a dull sense of irony. I did not take a screenshot to confront him, nor did I call him in tears. I simply tapped the little heart icon, leaving a quiet like on the post. Then, I closed the app and opened my chat with Mr. Henderson, the recruiter who had messaged me two weeks ago. I had been hesitating on his offer until now. My fingers did not tremble as I typed: “Mr. Henderson, I accept the offer for the Operations Director position at the Chicago branch. I will finalize my resignation here this week and can start next Monday.” He replied almost instantly, clearly thrilled: “That is fantastic news, Summer! The team in Chicago desperately needs a strong leader like you. Monday works perfectly. Welcome aboard!” “Thank you,” I typed back. “Could you also help me apply for the corporate apartment? I will be releasing my lease here.” After sending the message, I set my phone face down on the table and went to the balcony to fold the laundry. Five minutes later, my phone began to vibrate violently. It was Zach. He had probably seen the notification for my like, and guilt, or perhaps irritation at my quiet reaction, had driven him to call. “Hello,” I answered. “Summer, what is your problem?” Zach’s voice was laced with alcohol and annoyance. “Everyone was having a great time. What was that passive-aggressive like supposed to mean? You made Phoebe so uncomfortable she almost cried, asking if she did something to offend you.” “The photo was nice, the composition was great,” I said in a flat voice. “And it’s my account. I can like whatever I want.” “Can you stop being so incredibly petty? I already told you this is for work! Phoebe has two major accounts in her hand right now, and I have to keep her happy. You work in operations, you should understand how business networking works.” “I do understand,” I replied, watching a stray firework streak across the night sky outside. “That is why I didn’t make a scene, and I didn’t ask you to come home.” “You…” Zach was silenced by my complete lack of emotion. His tone softened slightly, carrying a patronizing sigh. “Fine, stop throwing a tantrum. I’ll come home early tomorrow and take you out for sushi.” “No need.” “What do you mean, no need?” “There’s no need to come home early, and no need for sushi.” I glanced at the open suitcase sitting by the bedroom door, empty and waiting to be filled. “Summer, you’re just determined to pick a fight tonight, aren’t you? Fine, I won’t come home at all. Cool your head!” The line went dead. Listening to the dial tone, I tossed the phone onto the sofa. I walked into the bedroom, opened the closet, and took down the dresses Zach had bought me over the years, the ones I had treasured but never actually liked. One by one, I threw them into a donation box. 2 The next morning, a pounding hangover woke Zach in a foul mood. He rolled over in the hotel bed, calling out out of habit, “Babe, get me some water.” Only silence answered him. Zach sat up abruptly, finally remembering that to teach me a lesson, he had slept at a friend’s place the night before. He checked his phone. It was ten in the morning. There were no notifications. I had not sent a single message asking if he had drank too much or reminding him to take his medication. “Still acting out,” he muttered, running a hand through his messy hair before heading home. When he unlocked the front door, the apartment was eerily quiet. I was sitting at the dining table, typing away on my laptop with an iced Americano beside me. Zach threw his jacket onto the sofa, bringing the stale smell of tobacco and alcohol into the room as he approached. “Is there anything to eat? My stomach is killing me. Make me some ramen with a couple of eggs.” My fingers did not stop moving across the keyboard. On the screen was a detailed hand-off document for my current job. “The kitchen is right there, and there are eggs in the fridge. Make it yourself.” Zach froze, looking at me as if I had spoken in a foreign language. “What did you say? My head is splitting, and you want me to cook?” I finally stopped typing, closed my laptop, and turned to look at him as if he were a giant toddler. “Zach, your hands are not broken. If you don’t want to cook, the food delivery apps are on the second page of your phone.” “Summer!” Zach snapped, kicking his slipper aside. “Is this really necessary? Over a silly anniversary? I already told you Phoebe is a business partner. Why are you acting like a child?” “Acting like a child?” I stood up, smoothing down my shirt. “Zach, the clothes in the washing machine are from two days ago. The shirts in the dryer have been sitting there for three. If you don’t want to go to work naked tomorrow, I suggest you iron them yourself.” Zach stared at me in disbelief. For the past three years, I had kept his life running like clockwork. His clothes were always pressed and organized by color, his toothpaste was squeezed, and even his business trip bags were packed by my hands. “Are you losing your mind?” Zach stormed into the closet, the sound of hangers rattling loudly. “Where is my navy tie? And my cufflinks? Summer, where did you hide my things?” I leaned against the doorframe, watching him fumble through the racks in frustration. “The tie is in the second drawer on the left. The cufflinks are at the bottom of the jewelry box.” My voice was completely devoid of emotion. “They have always been there. You just never bothered to look.” Zach hurriedly grabbed his things, his fingers fumbling with his tie as he muttered under his breath. “Fine, you want to play this game? Let’s see who breaks first. I have a busy week ahead. Don’t bother me.” I walked back into the living room, picked up a stack of printed papers from the drawer, and placed them on the entryway table. They contained all our login credentials, utility account numbers, and the contact information for the property manager. Zach glanced at the papers as he put on his shoes, letting out a cold scoff. “What is this? A demonstration of your hard work to make me feel guilty?” “It is to make your life easier in the future,” I said quietly. “The future?” Zach’s hand paused on the doorknob. He sneered, brushing it off. “What, are you threatening to move out now? Summer, stop. My patience has its limits.” “It certainly does.” As the front door slammed shut behind him, the final thread of attachment I had held onto for three years snapped completely. I unlocked my phone, opened our family group chat, and tapped “Leave Group.” I was done arguing, because I no longer cared about winning. 3 By Friday, I was only two days away from my departure. My friend Chelsea was helping me seal the moving boxes, cursing under her breath. “That absolute jerk really hasn’t noticed that you’re packing up the entire apartment?” The living room was bare. The paintings, ornaments, and plants had all disappeared, leaving only the basic furniture. Several heavy cardboard boxes were stacked in the corner, labeled with shipping tags destined for Chicago. “He comes home past midnight, crashes on the bed, and leaves before I wake up,” I said, cutting a strip of packing tape with a sharp snap. “To him, the details of this home don’t matter. As long as I’m physically breathing in this space, he thinks everything is normal.” “What about your joint account? Did you move the money?” Chelsea asked. “Yes.” I pulled up my banking app to show her the transaction history from the previous night. I had calculated our joint savings down to the last decimal point, separating my exact salary contributions and investment returns over the past three years, and transferred them to my private account. The transaction memo read: Asset Division. “We split the rent and utilities down the middle, but I paid for all the groceries and household supplies for three years,” I said, my voice light. “I didn’t bother charging him for that. Consider it charity.” Chelsea looked at me, a proud smile on her face. “Summer, you are being incredibly cold, and I absolutely love it.” Just then, my phone buzzed with a message from Zach. Jared’s engagement party is tonight at the Victoria Hotel. Get dressed. I’ll pick you up at six. It was immediately followed by a digital transfer of two thousand dollars. Go buy a decent dress. Don’t wear your cheap clothes. Respectable people will be there tonight. Looking at the notification, I felt a wave of dark amusement. For years, I had bought affordable clothes to help us save for a house, and he had simply assumed I had terrible taste. “Are you going?” Chelsea asked. “Going there feels like giving him exactly what he wants.” “I am going,” I said, my eyes turning cold. “Why wouldn’t I? It is my final appearance with that crowd. I should give them a proper curtain call.” I walked over to the closet and pulled out a black, backless designer gown I had bought with my own money but had never found the occasion to wear. It was sharply tailored, elegant, and commanding. By five in the afternoon, I was fully made up, sitting in the quiet of the empty living room. I opened my cloud storage, navigated to the folder labeled “Us” containing over three thousand photos of our relationship from college onward, and hit select all. Delete. Empty trash. With a brief loading icon, three years of shared history vanished into digital dust. The front door opened, and Zach walked in. When his eyes fell on me, a flash of genuine admiration crossed his face, quickly replaced by his usual smug, self-satisfied grin. “See? You look beautiful. Why couldn’t you put in this effort before?” He walked over, reaching out to wrap his arm around my waist. “Still angry? You accepted the money, so drop the attitude. Phoebe is going to be there tonight, she’s Jared’s cousin. Don’t make things awkward for her.” I stepped sideways, smoothly avoiding his hand, and picked up my clutch. “Let’s go. We don’t want to be late.” Zach’s hand remained frozen in mid-air. He frowned, sensing a strange shift in my behavior, but he could not quite put his finger on it. He was still looking for a compromise, but I had already found the exit. 4 The silence in the car was heavy and suffocating. Zach gripped the steering wheel, casting frequent glances at me through the rearview mirror. I kept my head turned toward the window, watching the city lights blur past, my expression completely neutral. During the drive, I had casually mentioned my job relocation. “About this transfer…” Zach broke the silence, trying to find a casual opening. “If you really want a change of scenery, I can talk to some people and get you a transfer locally. There’s no need to relocate. Aren’t we supposed to be planning for a baby? A long-distance relationship is just unrealistic.” I did not turn my head. “Don’t worry about it.” “Why do you always have to be so difficult?” Zach’s patience snapped. “I’ve already apologized. Can’t you just give me a break? We’ll talk about this properly after the party.” Suddenly, the car’s Bluetooth system rang, the name Phoebe flashing on the dashboard screen. Zach shot me a quick, nervous glance, intending to decline the call, but his finger slipped and pressed answer. Phoebe’s whiny voice immediately filled the car. “Zach, where are you? Help me! The zipper on the back of my dress is stuck, and the hotel staff are too clumsy to fix it. If it bursts, I’m going to be completely exposed! Can you please come up and help me? I’m in Room 1206.” The air in the car turned freezing. Zach began to stammer, “Summer, she just…” “Go ahead,” I interrupted, my voice perfectly calm. “A broken zipper is a major issue. You wouldn’t want her exposed in public.” “Summer, don’t get the wrong idea, Phoebe is just…” “Drop me off at the next intersection,” I said, pointing to the traffic light ahead. Zach gripped the wheel, the veins on his forehead bulging. “Summer!” “Stop the car!” I raised my voice, my tone sharp. “I have something to take care of. Go do what you need to do.” The car jerked to the curb. I opened the door and stepped out into the cool night air, my heels clicking sharply against the pavement as I walked away without looking back. Half an hour later, I arrived at the venue. Chelsea had sent me a brief video clip from inside the ballroom. In the crowded room, Zach was standing close to Phoebe, holding a glass of champagne in one hand while his other hand casually hovered near her waist. His friends were laughing, teasing him: “Zach, did Phoebe dress up just for you tonight? Where is Summer?” Zach looked slightly distracted, but he still defended her. “Drop it, she got caught in traffic.” Phoebe stood beside him, her face glowing with triumph. I closed the video and put my phone away. I texted Chelsea: Tomorrow morning at ten, bring the movers. He always goes to the gym at that time. She replied instantly: On it. The truck is booked. I took a deep, steadying breath and pushed open the doors to the ballroom. The room fell quiet, and all eyes turned to me. Zach’s eyes lit up, and he immediately stepped away from Phoebe to greet me. “What took you so long? Why weren’t you answering my calls?” I sidestepped his reaching hand, maintaining a flawless, polite smile as I nodded to the guests. “Apologies, I had some personal matters to attend to.” There was no anger, no jealousy, and I did not even take the seat next to him. Instead, I found a quiet corner and watched the party unfold. His friends and Phoebe looked bewildered. They had been anticipating a dramatic confrontation, or at least a tense cold war. Instead, they got nothing but absolute, dead silence. At eleven that night, we were in the car heading home. Zach finally snapped, unable to bear the quiet any longer. “Summer, what was that display tonight? I already told you Phoebe is just…” “Zach,” I interrupted. “What?” “You asked me earlier when I was leaving.” Zach froze, his hands tightening on the wheel as a sudden look of dread crossed his face. The car pulled up to our apartment building. The yellow streetlights did not reach the darkness in my eyes. I opened the passenger door, stepping out into the cool spring breeze, leaving him with a final, cold silhouette. “Next Monday,” I said. He finally panicked.

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1 The factory granted us a half-day off, and I was relaxing in the dorms with my coworkers. Our supervisor took advantage of my distraction to sneak a look at my personal diary. Right then and there, she took her own life. A newly arrived intern, refusing to believe in any curse, flipped the diary open to take a glance himself. Within seconds, he walked straight to the window and threw himself off the sixteenth floor. After those two back-to-back deaths, my diary went viral across the internet. A high-profile billionaire even offered ten percent of his entire net worth just for the chance to look at it. But I kept it locked securely inside my safe, refusing to show a soul. Until tonight, at my promotion dinner, when my fiancé waited until my back was turned and flipped open the very first page. “What are you looking at?!” I lunged forward, desperately tearing the leather-bound diary out of Charles’s grip. Charles froze, his hand still holding a half-empty glass of red wine meant to celebrate my promotion. His eyes stared blankly at a hollow point in space, his pupils rapidly dilating. “Charles?” A cold shiver ran down my spine. I squeezed the diary tightly against my chest, backing away from him. The chatter in the private banquet room died instantly. Every coworker in the room turned to stare at the two of us. “Heh… hehehe…” A strange, rattling chuckle escaped Charles’s throat. He snapped his head toward me, his gaze locking onto mine with terrifying intensity. “So that’s what it is… that’s how it works…” he whispered to himself. The next second, he grabbed the silver cake knife from the table. “Charles, stop!” I screamed, throwing myself forward to grab his arm, but I was too slow. He flipped the knife, pointing the sharp tip directly at his own forehead. “I have to carve it down… can’t forget… must not forget…” The blade sank deep into his flesh. Blood sprayed across the white frosting of the promotion cake. Screams erupted in the room as my coworkers scrambled toward the exit. A few of the braver men rushed forward, pinning Charles’s arms and legs to the floor. Charles thrashed with terrifying, unnatural strength, his eyes bulging out of their sockets. “You blind fools! You don’t know anything!” he shrieked, his voice raw. A sharp blow stung my face, leaving my ears ringing. Beatrice, Charles’s mother, glared at me with bloodshot eyes, her fingernails clawing into my skin. “You witch! What kind of sick curse did you put on my son?” She cursed, reaching out to rip the diary from my hands. I gritted my teeth, curling my body around the book, ignoring the sharp pain of her nails tearing into my skin. “Don’t touch it! If you look at it, you’ll die!” I warned, my voice cracking. Beatrice did not care. The rumors of the diary’s value had completely consumed her. The entire internet knew that Adam Sinclair, the billionaire chairman of Sinclair Enterprises, was offering ten percent of his conglomerate’s shares just to lay eyes on this book. “Stop acting like a saint! You just want that money all to yourself!” Her face twisted with greed as she kicked my knee, forcing me to slip onto the floor. She yanked my hair backward, her fingers wrapping around the edge of the diary. “Give me the book! It belongs to our family now! If you’re marrying into our house, your very life belongs to us!” The pain made my vision blur, but I refused to let go. If I let go, everyone in this room would die. Before she could pry it loose, the double doors of the banquet room were kicked open. Two lines of men in dark suits filed into the room, immediately taking control of the exits. The billionaire himself, Adam Sinclair, rolled into the room in his wheelchair. He looked down at me, his eyes gleaming with a cold, predatory light. “Miss Liu, have you reconsidered my offer?” 2 When Beatrice saw Adam Sinclair, her hostile expression instantly melted into a sycophantic grin. “Mr. Sinclair! You came yourself! I have the book right here, let me get it for you!” She pulled my hair with renewed force, nearly tearing my scalp. I let out a cry of pain, biting my lip as I threw my weight over the diary, pinning it to the floor. “Beatrice, stop! If he looks, he’s a dead man!” Adam Sinclair let out a dry, raspy chuckle, leaning heavily on his silver cane. “Miss Liu, do you really think a man of my age is still afraid of death?” He leaned forward, the faint scent of medicine and old age washing over me. “I am already dying. If I can glimpse the ultimate secret before I go, what is a little death?” I trembled under his gaze. “You have no idea what is actually written in there!” Adam straightened up, giving a slight nod to his men. Two muscular guards stepped forward, grabbing my shoulders and lifting me completely off the ground. With my arms pinned, Beatrice lunged, tearing the diary from my chest. “Here, Mr. Sinclair! It’s all yours! About that reward…” She held the diary with both hands, her eyes wide with greed as she offered it to him. “Don’t give it to him! Beatrice, you’re killing him!” I thrashed in the air, kicking my legs wildly, but the guards held me like a vise. Adam reached out a withered, trembling hand, his fingers stopping just inches from the leather cover. Suddenly, Charles, who had been pinned to the floor, let out a primal roar. “Don’t touch it!” He broke free from the coworkers holding him, throwing himself across the room. He tackled Beatrice to the ground, the diary flying from her hands and sliding across the floor. Charles wrapped his hands tightly around his mother’s neck. “You understand nothing! None of you do!” Beatrice’s eyes rolled back, her hands clawing desperately at her son’s arms, but she couldn’t budge his grip. “Charles… Charles… it’s me… your mother…” “No, you’re not! None of you are!” Charles shrieked, opening his bloody mouth and biting down hard on Beatrice’s ear. A horrific scream echoed through the room as a piece of her ear was torn away. The guards immediately lunged, pressing taser batons against Charles’s back. The electrical current sent him into violent convulsions, and his eyes rolled back as he collapsed into unconsciousness. Taking advantage of the chaos, I brought my knee up sharply into the groin of the guard holding me. He gasped, releasing his grip. I dropped to the floor, rolled over, and snatched the diary back into my arms. “Stop her!” Adam roared, his face twisting with rage. I shoved past my frozen coworkers, burst out of the room, and ran down the emergency stairwell. Behind me, the heavy footsteps of the guards echoed down the concrete steps. I burst through the hotel’s back exit, running straight into the pouring rain. The freezing water hit my face, clearing my head. I had to destroy this book. As I stepped toward the curb to hail a cab, a dark, unmarked van veered sharply, blocking my path. Two strong arms reached out from the sliding door, grabbing my coat and hauling me into the dark interior. The cabin was thick with the chemical smell of chloroform. I fought wildly, kicking and scratching at the men pinning me down, while keeping the diary pressed firmly against my stomach. “Quiet down! Move again and I’ll open your throat!” The cold edge of a blade pressed against my neck, sending a shiver through my body. The van sped into the rainy night, blowing through multiple red lights. Under the passing streetlights, I finally saw my captors. The person sitting in the passenger seat, turning to glare at me, was Florence, Charles’s sister. 3 “Tina, you really are something,” Florence said, her eyes filled with malice as she blew a puff of cigarette smoke toward me. “You turn my brother into a lunatic, and then you try to run?” “I didn’t do anything to him! He stole my diary!” I spat back. “Save it! My brother is in the psychiatric ICU, and my mother is undergoing emergency surgery. How are you going to settle that debt?” She took another drag of her cigarette. “Sinclair made an offer. Hand over the book, and our family gets a ten percent cut of the reward. That’s more than enough for us to live like royalty for the rest of our lives.” “Are you all insane? You won’t live long enough to spend a single cent of that money!” I couldn’t believe they were still thinking about the reward. Florence swung her hand back, her palm striking my face. The impact split my lip, and the metallic taste of blood filled my mouth. “Stop acting so pure. If you hadn’t brought that cursed book into our lives, none of this would have happened. You are giving us that diary tonight!” The van screeched to a halt, parking in the flooded basement of an abandoned, half-finished high-rise. I was dragged out of the vehicle and tossed onto the wet concrete. Florence’s heels clicked against the stone as she walked over, grabbing my hair to force my head back. “Search her!” The two men stepped forward, tearing at my coat. “Get off me!” I fought like an animal, sinking my teeth deep into one man’s wrist. He cried out in pain, bringing his fist down hard against my temple. My head spun, the world turning pitch black for a few seconds as the strength drained from my limbs. They pulled the diary from my shirt, handing it respectfully to Florence. “Finally…” Florence stared at the book, her eyes shining with greed. “Florence… don’t open it… I’m begging you…” I whispered from the wet ground, my vision blurring. “A hundred million dollars… just for one look…” She didn’t hear me. Her finger was already slipping under the leather cover. Before she could open it, the entrance of the garage lit up with a dozen high-beam headlights. A line of luxury sedans drove in, surrounding us in a tight circle. Adam Sinclair’s guards stepped out of the vehicles, all of them carrying firearms. “Miss Zhou, taking things that don’t belong to you carries a very high price,” Adam said, his wheelchair being pushed forward by a guard. Florence trembled, nearly dropping the book. “Mr. Sinclair… I was just preparing to bring it to you…” she stammered, offering the diary with both hands. I closed my eyes in absolute despair. It was over. If the diary fell into the hands of a powerful, ruthless man like Adam Sinclair, the consequences would be unimaginable. But as Florence stepped forward, her eyes locked onto the cover. “Wait… it’s moving…” she whispered, her voice shaking. Adam frowned, his voice cold. “Bring it here!” Florence didn’t move. Her fingers began to slide across the cover, completely out of her control. “It’s breathing… there’s something inside trying to get out…” With a sudden, sharp motion, she flipped the diary open to the very first page. “Don’t look!” I screamed, my throat raw. Florence’s gaze locked onto the open page. She stood perfectly still, holding the diary, completely frozen. “Miss Zhou?” Adam sensed something was wrong, his eyes narrowing. The whites of Florence’s eyes slowly vanished, her pupils dilating until her eyes were nothing but two empty pools of pitch black. “So… that’s what it is.” 4 Her voice carried an eerie, hollow echo. “Grab her! Take the book!” Adam ordered, tapping his cane sharply. Two guards lunged at Florence. Just as their hands were about to touch her, Florence moved. She held the open diary up to her chest, turning the first page directly toward the face of the two approaching men. “Look,” she whispered, a serene smile on her lips. “Here is the truth.” Two deafening gunshots echoed through the concrete garage. The moment the guards saw the page, they did not hesitate. They turned their weapons on themselves, putting the barrels into their own mouths and pulling the triggers. Blood and bone splattered across Florence’s face. She did not even blink, her terrifying smile remaining perfectly intact. “They’re insane! Shoot her! Shoot her down!” Adam screamed, panicking in his wheelchair. Florence rushed forward, grabbing the armrests of his wheelchair before his guards could react. “Mr. Sinclair, didn’t you want to see it? Let me show you.” She forced his eyelids open, slamming the open diary directly onto his face. Adam let out a horrific, gurgling scream. His body convulsed in the wheelchair, dark, thick blood pouring from his eyes, nose, and mouth. The remaining guards were too terrified to fire, and the garage fell into absolute chaos. Taking advantage of the panic, I dragged myself up and ran toward the exit. I had to destroy the diary. But as I burst out into the alley, a barrage of camera flashes blinded me. Dozens of reporters and internet streamers had blocked the exit. “She’s out! That’s her! The woman with the cursed diary!” “We’re live, everyone! This is the owner of the hundred-million-dollar diary!” “Tina Liu! What did you write in that book? Why does everyone who looks at it end up dead?” Microphones were shoved into my face, the flashing lights making it impossible to see. “It’s this evil woman! She ruined my son, and now my daughter is trapped in there!” Beatrice, her head wrapped in bloody bandages, pushed through the crowd, grabbing my hair to drag me in front of the cameras. “You are going to show the world what is in that book tonight! Let everyone see what kind of monster you are!” “Let go of me! I don’t have it! Florence has it!” I screamed, struggling against her grip. “Liar!” Before Beatrice could say more, the crowd parted. Florence walked out of the dark garage, drenched in blood, holding the diary high above her head. Every camera instantly focused on her. “Don’t you all want to see?” She walked right up to the lens of the nearest phone. She slowly opened the cover, exposing the first page to the high-definition camera. “No!” I cried out, closing my eyes. “Look! Look closely, all of you!” Florence shrieked, pressing the bloody page against the lens. Across the internet, millions of screens were filled with the image of the yellowed paper. I lay in the mud, waiting for the mass tragedy to unfold. Seconds ticked away, but there were no screams of agony from the reporters, nor any panicked alerts from the livestream chat. “How… why aren’t you going mad?!” Florence stared at the phone screen, the veins in her eyes bulging. I opened my eyes, ignoring the throbbing pain in my head, and looked at the phone lying on the ground. The only sound in the dark alley was the distant, muffled screaming of Adam Sinclair from inside the garage.

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1 My mother was the kind of woman who couldn’t survive without a man. Three months after my father died, she started dating like she’d gone mad. The first guy drove an illegal cab. One night, drunk out of his mind, he dragged me out of bed and told me to get out. My mother actually did it. She watched me stand barefoot in the hallway, shaking, and only said, “That’s just how he is. Let it go.” The second was her coworker. While she was working overtime, he pinned me down on the couch and touched my thigh. When I told her, she stared for a few seconds, then laughed. “You’re only fourteen. What do you know about harassment?” The third sold insurance. He coaxed her into putting all of my father’s death benefits into a “wealth management plan,” then disappeared. She held me and cried, saying she was sorry to my dad. I thought she had finally woken up. Less than a month later, she was in love again. This time, to prove her loyalty to her boyfriend, she tried to burn the old land deed my father had left behind. When the flame rose, she smiled at the man beside her. “Gary, you’re right. I need to say goodbye to the past.” “That useless deed? Tessa’s father said it was worth six hundred million. As if I’d believe that.” “Mom! What are you doing?” I rushed forward and snatched the deed from her hand. The flame licked across my fingertips, and pain jolted through me. I quickly slapped it out and looked down at the paper. The lower-left corner was already gone, the charred edge curled black, the bitter smell of burned paper filling my nose. My mother was still holding the lighter. She froze for a second. “Tessa, what are you doing?” She frowned. “Give it to me.” I hid the deed behind my back. “This is what Dad left. You can’t burn it.” “It’s fake!” My mother looked at me with disdain and gave an ugly little laugh. “Your uncle Gary already looked at it. It’s fake.” “Your father loved bragging. Six hundred million? You actually believe that?” “She’s been clinging to this scrap of paper for years. I should have burned it long ago.” Gary Fletcher sat on the sofa with one leg crossed over the other, lazily joining in. “Tessa, I’ve been around longer than you. I can tell if something’s real or fake at a glance.” “Your mom’s right. It’s just an old piece of paper. Keeping it only takes up space.” “Besides, your mother is starting a new life. What does it mean for her to keep things from her previous man?” “Exactly.” My mother leaned closer to him. “I’m saying goodbye to the past. This stupid thing should be the first to go.” I looked at her. She was in her fifties, but leaning against Gary’s shoulder, she looked like a girl in her twenties. Her eyes were bright, almost coquettish. Fifteen years ago, when my father died, she cried until she fainted twice. Now, for a man she had known for forty days, she wanted to burn the last thing he left behind. “Mom.” I tried to steady my voice. “This deed is real. Dad told me himself. There’s another half somewhere. Once we find it…” “Enough!” She waved impatiently. “Before your father died, he told me to live well. Isn’t that what I’m doing now? Why do you insist on stabbing me in the heart with some old paper?” As she spoke, her eyes reddened. She turned to Gary. “Gary, look at her. She doesn’t understand me at all.” Gary patted her hand and stood, walking toward me. “Tessa, you’re in your twenties now. Be sensible.” “If you keep dragging up your father’s things, how is your mother supposed to move on?” “What can that old paper do for you? Can you eat it?” I swallowed my anger and looked up at him. “It belonged to my father. I’m keeping it.” 2 He stared at me for two seconds, then laughed. He turned back to my mother and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “Forget it, Linda. She’s stubborn. Don’t argue with a child.” “It’s fake anyway. Burn it or don’t burn it, it doesn’t matter. What matters is that you’ve let go in your heart.” My mother leaned into him and looked up with tender eyes. “Gary, you’re so good to me.” My fingers tightened around the deed. I said nothing. I went back to my room and shut the door. From diagnosis to death, my father’s illness lasted eight months. I found this deed while sorting through his belongings. It had been hidden in a tin box at the bottom of his wardrobe, wrapped in red cloth. My father loved collecting old things. Stamps, ration coupons, old coins. None of them were worth much. But this deed, he had mentioned several times. “Tessa, this is the deed to our old family property. It was issued before the war. There were originally two copies.” “When your dad finds the other half, you’ll know I wasn’t lying.” Maybe the deed was only a keepsake. But it was my father’s keepsake. My mother’s laughter came from outside the door, muffled but clear enough. She laughed like that often when she was with Gary. I touched the burned edge of the deed. My phone rang. I answered. “Is this Ms. Tessa Hart?” “Yes.” “I’m calling from the City Heritage Records Office. You contacted us before about an old land deed, correct?” My heart skipped. “Yes, that was me.” “We recently received half of a prewar land deed.” “Based on our preliminary comparison, it may match the half you described.” “If it’s convenient, please bring your half in so we can verify it.” I tightened my grip on the phone and glanced toward the door. “It’s convenient.” “Tomorrow morning at nine. I’ll text you the address.” After hanging up, I stood there stunned. The other half had surfaced. My father hadn’t been lying. In the living room, my mother laughed again. I cooked dinner that night. When my father was alive, he always cooked for us. Before he died, he held my hand and told me to look after my mother. So I learned. I wasn’t good at it, but the food was edible. I brought the dishes to the table and set out the bowls and chopsticks. Gary sat down first, tapped his chopsticks on the table, and grabbed a large piece of meat. “Eat more. You’ve gotten so thin lately.” My mother sat beside him and pushed the stir-fried pork with mushrooms toward him. I sat down with my bowl and picked up some vegetables. “Mom, tomorrow morning I need to…” “Gary.” My mother interrupted me. “Didn’t you say your knee hurts? I’ll go with you to the hospital tomorrow.” Gary waved his chopsticks. “No need. I’ll use some patches for a couple days.” “How can that be enough? What if it’s serious?” She frowned, set down her chopsticks, and started pressing his knee. “Does it hurt here? What about here?” Gary dodged her hand, a little impatient. “We’re eating. Stop touching it.” My mother didn’t get angry. She smiled instead. “Fine, fine. After dinner, then.” I put down my chopsticks. “Mom, I need to go to the Heritage Records Office tomorrow morning.” She finally turned to me. “What office?” “The Heritage Records Office. About that deed. They said the other…” “Enough!” She slammed her chopsticks onto the table. She glared at me, her face dark. “Are you done? We’re eating. Do you have to bring this up? Are you trying to ruin my appetite?” Gary kept eating slowly beside her, not even lifting his eyelids. I opened my mouth but said nothing. My mother picked up her bowl again, took some food, and leaned toward Gary with a smile. “Here, have more of this.” I lowered my head and finished my rice bite by bite. It wasn’t always like this. When Dad was alive, she believed whatever I said. If a classmate borrowed ten dollars and didn’t pay me back, and I said he stole my money, she would go to the teacher the next day. If I failed an exam and said the test was too hard and the whole class did badly, she would stroke my head and say it was fine, I could try again next time. Now, when I wanted to say something to her, she told me to shut up. I set down my bowl and stood. “I’m done.” No one answered. My mother was busy ladling soup for Gary. I went back to my room and closed the door. The deed was still on my desk, pressed under a thick book. As soon as I sat down, I noticed my drawer had been touched. The drawer I never shut all the way was now closed tightly. I opened it. Everything inside had been rummaged through. I froze, then stood and opened the wardrobe. My clothes had been searched too. The folded stacks were scattered. 3 I gripped the wardrobe handle and stood there for a while. Then I opened my door and walked out. “Mom, did you go through my room?” She was clearing the dishes and didn’t even look up. “Yes. I was looking for that scrap of paper.” “You didn’t ask.” She stacked the bowls together and looked at me. “I’m your mother. Am I not allowed in your room?” She set the bowls down hard, raising her voice. “Tessa, I raised you for more than twenty years, and now you’re guarding against me like I’m a thief?” Gary leaned on the sofa, looking at his phone. The corner of his mouth lifted. I looked at my mother. “I’m not guarding against you. It’s Dad’s keepsake.” “Keepsake?” She laughed. “Why would your father leave that thing? To make you fight me? To make you obsessed with money?” “You think you’re a princess waiting to inherit treasure?” I clenched my fists. “I just want to keep it.” “Keep it for what? To burn for me after I die?” She walked over and stood in front of me. “Tessa, you’re grown now. Your wings are hard, huh? I can’t control you anymore?” “I shouldn’t have let you snatch that paper away yesterday.” “If you weren’t my daughter, I’d think you were trying to make me angry enough to die.” The next morning, I went downstairs to take out the trash and ran into Mrs. Lewis from across the hall. When she saw me, she smiled oddly. “Tessa, your mom said you’ve been fighting with her?” I stood there holding the garbage bag. “Don’t be too stubborn, kid. Your mom hasn’t had it easy, raising you alone.” I said nothing. Two steps later, I ran into Mrs. Brooks from the third floor. “Tessa, your mother said you’ve gotten obsessed with some old deed. That’s not good. Young people shouldn’t chase crooked dreams.” “She cried to me, said you’ve been upsetting her lately. Being a mother is hard. Try to understand her.” I nodded and went upstairs. At the third-floor landing, I stopped. On the night of my father’s funeral, after everyone left, she held me in the mourning hall and cried. “Tessa, don’t be afraid. From now on, Mom will protect you and guard everything your father left behind.” Not long after I got home, my mother pushed open my bedroom door. She stood at the entrance without coming in, impatience written all over her face. “Tessa, I’m telling you this now.” “Your father’s things have to go. Whether you want to throw them out or not, they’re going. Don’t make Gary unhappy.” “If you refuse, then don’t call me your mother anymore.” She looked at me and waited two seconds. When I didn’t speak, she turned and left. I stood still for a while, then took the deed from under the book, folded it carefully, and put it into my pocket. At nine the next morning, I arrived at the City Heritage Records Office on time. A woman in her forties received me. “Please wait a moment.” She went into an inner room. Through the glass, I saw her and two others gathering around the deed, examining it with a magnifying glass and occasionally speaking to one another. I waited twenty minutes. When she came out, her expression had changed. “Ms. Hart, congratulations.” She pushed up her glasses. “After preliminary authentication, your deed is real.” “It was issued in 1938, with clear ownership. The property corresponds to a plot in the old downtown district.” My heart missed a beat. “That area was redeveloped in the 1990s. It’s now commercial land.” She paused. “Based on current policy and market valuation, this land is worth approximately six hundred million dollars.” Six hundred million. For a moment, my mind went blank. “Of course,” she continued. “Your father probably told you before that the deed was originally in two matching halves. Both are needed to complete ownership verification.” “The half we received matches yours perfectly.” She slid a photo toward me. 4 In the photo was a yellowed piece of paper. The texture along its torn edge matched mine exactly. “The holder is an elderly gentleman. His last name is Lane. He’s seventy-eight this year.” “His father used to work for the Hart family. This half of the deed was left to him during a later division of family property.” “Mr. Lane’s position is that since the deed is one half each, the six hundred million should also be split in half.” I had already reached an agreement with Mr. Lane. We would handle the paperwork next week. The director of the Heritage Records Office helped me contact a lawyer. Everything would be done through proper legal channels. When I got home that night, no one was there. I opened my bedroom door and froze for two seconds. The thick book on my desk had been moved. I opened the drawer and searched through everything. The deed was gone. The front door sounded. My mother and Gary came in together, carrying groceries. She saw me and paused. “Where’s the deed?” Her eyes flickered. “What deed?” “The one Dad left me.” She set the groceries on the table without looking at me. “That? I had Gary throw it out.” I stood still. “What did you say?” “Threw it out.” She looked up at me, completely justified. “What was the point of keeping that thing? Gary said it brought bad energy into the house and affected our luck.” Gary stood by the door, a faint smile on his lips, not even lifting his eyelids. “Mom.” My voice trembled slightly. “That deed was real. The Heritage Records Office authenticated it. It’s worth six hundred million.” My mother froze. Then she turned to Gary. “Gary, do you believe that? Six hundred million?” “Your daughter is losing her mind.” He shook his head. “Six hundred million? If it were really worth that much, why would anyone tell her? They would have swallowed it themselves.” My mother’s expression slowly changed. She looked at me, conflicted. “Tessa, have you been scammed?” “I haven’t.” “Then you’re telling me six hundred million?” She walked over and stood in front of me. “Gary is right. If it were worth that much, why would anyone tell you? You’re a young woman in your twenties. What do you know?” “Daydreaming all day long.” “The deed is gone. Gary threw it away. Let it go. Pretend this never happened.” I looked into her eyes. “Mom, Dad left that for me.” “Your dad left that for you?” She laughed. “He left it so you could go against me?” Gary sighed from the side. “All right, all right. It’s already gone. What’s the point of arguing?” He came over and tried to pat my shoulder. I dodged. He didn’t care and withdrew his hand. “Tessa, I’m doing this for your own good. There are too many scammers these days. Your mother has had a hard life. Stop tormenting her.” I looked at him. “Where did you throw it?” He paused. “What?” “Where did you throw the deed?” My mother stepped in front of him. “Tessa, what do you mean? Are you suspecting Gary?” I didn’t speak. She stared at me. Her eyes slowly reddened. “I just want to find someone and live a decent life. Why do you have to oppose me?” “That deed is more important than me, is it?” “Your father matters. The deed matters. Only I, your mother, don’t matter.” She turned, pulling Gary toward the bedroom. “Gary, ignore her.” The door closed. I stood in the living room, looking at that door, then took out my phone and dialed 911. “Hello, I need to report a theft. An important item was stolen from my home.”

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1 At our wedding, my husband’s young intern assistant took the stage to offer her congratulations, then turned to me with a troubled look. “Mrs. Hopkins, I have a confession. I’ve been in love with a man for a very long time.” “He treats me wonderfully. He brews me warm ginger tea when I’m on my period, and he takes me on weekend trips to cheer me up when I’m down.” “But now, because of family pressure, he is marrying someone else. Do you think I should give up on him?” I listened to her patiently, offering a gentle smile. “If he is just as committed to choosing you, then I believe that if you both hold on, you will find a beautiful outcome.” “Actually, when Mr. Hopkins and I first got together, we faced many obstacles of our own. But look at us now, aren’t we happy?” “I hope you find your happy ending too.” She let out a joyful squeal, leaped twice, and then threw herself directly into my husband’s arms. “Bennett, did you hear that? Your wife just gave us her blessing to be together!” “Tomorrow, you can accompany me to my ultrasound openly, right?” A collective gasp rippled through the banquet hall. Dozens of mocking, pitying eyes locked onto me, pinning me to the floor. “This is insane! Look at her face.” “What a joke. The bride was just bragging about their beautiful love story, and she gets humiliated seconds later!” My head throbbed, my eyes burning as I stared at the two of them clinging to each other on the stage. Bennett reached down, affectionately pinching Daisy’s nose. “Stop teasing. Didn’t I already promise to go with you?” Daisy pouted, her voice dripping with sweet childishness. “But the last two times, you lied to Fiona, claiming you had urgent corporate meetings. This time, I want you to accompany me openly.” Bennett, who usually maintained a cold and dignified composure, looked down at her with a tenderness so deep it made my stomach turn. “Fine, fine. Whatever you say.” Daisy shot me a triumphant, mocking smirk before leaning in to press her lips against his in a deep, passionate kiss. The scene felt like a fever dream. I stood there in my white gown, looking less like a bride and more like a clown. The officiant, realizing the disaster unfolding, hurried to end the ceremony. As we walked off the stage, Bennett’s mother grabbed my arm, dragging me toward the dressing room. “Don’t you dare make a scene! Do you want our family to become the laughingstock of all our relatives?” I looked at her, stunned. She avoided my gaze, as did Bennett’s father. In that moment, the cold truth washed over me. They had known all along. They knew Bennett was sleeping with his young intern, and they knew she was pregnant. So what was I? Today was supposed to be our wedding. I sat in the dressing room, numb, when Bennett walked in, casually offering me a small plate of cake. “You have a weak stomach, eat something first.” His voice was light, as if we were discussing the weather. “Daisy is still young and foolish. I apologize on her behalf.” The breath caught in my throat, a sharp pain squeezing my chest. “An apology? Is that all you have to say? She is pregnant with your child?” Bennett lit a cigarette, his expression distant. “There is nothing to explain. Fiona, we’ve been together for twelve years. I got bored. You are thirty-two, and Daisy is twenty-two. She is young, beautiful, and full of life. You simply can’t compete with that.” A thick mist covered my eyes, blurring his face. “Fiona,” he sighed, exhaling a cloud of smoke. “I didn’t want to hurt you. If you want a divorce, I won’t stop you.” Before I could find my voice, his phone rang, the screen flashing with the name Daisy Baby. Bennett glanced at me, seemingly deciding there was no longer any need to hide it, and picked up. Her soft, whimpering voice echoed through the quiet room. “Bennett, where are you? My stomach hurts. Can you take me to the hospital?” His features softened instantly, and he stood up to leave. I reached out, my fingers catching the edge of his jacket. “Don’t go…” Bennett looked down at me, impatience flickering in his eyes. “Fiona, the baby is important. You’re thirty-two, not a child. Stop acting out.” He pried my fingers away and walked out without a backward glance. I let my hand fall, staring at the doctor’s report peeking out from my handbag. I touched my lower abdomen, a bitter laugh escaping my lips as tears splashed onto the sofa. Yes, a baby is important. But Bennett, we have a baby too. I had planned to give him the test result as a wedding surprise, but he had managed to surprise me first. I picked up my phone with trembling fingers and dialed the clinic. “Dr. Simmons, I’d like to schedule an abortion.” 2 Surrounded by the heavy, mocking stares of our relatives, I returned to our new apartment alone. The walls were still covered in red wedding banners and happy decorations. Now, they felt like a thousand tiny needles pressing into my chest. I wanted to rip them all down, to tear the room apart, but my limbs felt like lead. I collapsed onto the bed, exhausted, but sleep refused to come. Memories of our past kept flashing before my eyes. Bennett had loved me once. We had started dating when I was twenty, and he had confessed that he had loved me in secret for four years before that. He used to say I was his sunshine. During one hot summer when I was ill and couldn’t sleep, he had stayed up all night, gently fanning me to keep me cool. When my mother passed away and my father tried to sell our childhood home to settle his gambling debts, leaving me on the streets, Bennett had searched for me in the middle of the night. He had held me tight against his chest, whispering, “Don’t be scared, Fiona. You still have me. We will build our own home.” Now, just as we were about to have that home, he had torn it to shreds. Twelve years of promises had popped like bubbles in the sun. The next morning, I sent him a text: Let’s get a divorce. He replied: Are you sure? We just had our wedding yesterday. If we divorce today, our families will be humiliated. So he did care about humiliation. I laughed bitterly, typing back: I am already the biggest joke in the city. Draft the agreement and send it over. We can sign it at the attorney’s office. He took hours to reply: Sorry, Daisy threw a tantrum and broke some dishes. She’s very delicate, and it took me a long time to calm her down. Fine, let’s do it. Then, another text popped up from him: Fiona, don’t blame me for this. I gave you plenty of hints about the affair, but you were too blind to notice. Remember when you were in the hospital with stomach pain and I left at midnight, claiming there was an emergency at the office? Daisy was jealous that I was with you, so she demanded I go comfort her. The baby was conceived that night. My pupils dilated, a cold sweat breaking out over my skin. I had waited for him all night, twisting in pain on that hospital bed, refusing to call him because I didn’t want to disrupt his “important meeting.” And he was with her. I walked into the clinic like a ghost. Dr. Simmons asked me repeatedly, “Are you absolutely sure about this? I remember how long you and your husband have been trying to conceive, and didn’t you just get married?” Yes, we had tried for so long. And yet, another woman had managed to get pregnant first. I gave a weak, hollow smile, insisting on the procedure. The abortion was quick. An hour later, I dragged myself out of the recovery room, leaning against the cold wall. My abdomen felt empty and sore. I was looking for a bench to sit down when a familiar figure appeared. Bennett walked up to me, his brow furrowed in annoyance. He grabbed my wrist, pulling me toward the exit. “Come with me. Daisy wants to apologize to you.” 3 He shoved me into the passenger seat of his car. The sudden movement sent a sharp pain through my abdomen, and my vision went black for several seconds. Bennett started the engine, his voice cold and furious. “Fiona, you went too far!” “Daisy was just playing a harmless joke at the wedding, and you let someone record it and post it online? She is still young, how is she supposed to handle that kind of public harassment?” I gasped for air, a bitter laugh escaping my lips. “She actually cares about her reputation?” He finally noticed how pale I was. “Are you sick? Your stomach acting up again?” He reached into the glove compartment, pulling out a bottle of stomach medicine and a thermos of hot water. These were habits he had built because of me. He used to say that since I only had him, he had to take extra care of me. Now, the medicine and the water were still here, but we were gone. My eyes burned, and I turned my head away, refusing to touch them. He scoffed, tossing the bottle back into the compartment. “Fine, don’t take it. Just don’t touch the things in the car. Daisy will be upset if she finds out.” “Fiona, you are at your age now. Why do you still act like a petty schoolgirl? It’s pathetic.” I kept silent, curling my body into a tight ball to protect my lower abdomen. When we reached Daisy’s apartment, Bennett gave me a warning look. “Don’t make things difficult. Just make her feel better, and I’ll agree to whatever terms you want for the divorce.” I let out a weak chuckle. The moment we walked in, Daisy dropped to her knees in front of me, sobbing. “I’m so sorry, Mrs. Hopkins. It was all my fault. I shouldn’t have been so reckless and ruined your wedding.” “You can curse at me or slap me, but please stop the online harassment. People were pointing fingers at me when I went out today. I’m so scared…” Bennett immediately pulled her into his arms, glaring at me with eyes like ice. “Fiona, make a public statement. Say the video was a misunderstanding, generated by AI because you were jealous of Daisy’s youth.” “All of our wedding guests saw it happen!” I snapped, my voice shaking. “I will handle my relatives,” Bennett said dismissively. “Fiona, I know you’re just jealous. I don’t even have to divorce you. We can stay married, and we can raise Daisy’s child together. It won’t be any different from our own.” The sheer disgust of his words gave me a sudden burst of energy. “In your dreams!” Bennett froze. “What?” “I will never make a statement, and Daisy deserves every bit of harassment she gets! She is a homewrecker!” Slap. The force of his hand sent my head spinning, my cheek burning. Before he could say another word, Daisy clutched her stomach, crying out in pain. “Bennett, it hurts… my stomach…” “The baby… it hurts…” In a panic, he scooped her up in his arms. “Don’t worry, sweetie, I’m taking you to the hospital!” Before he ran out, he shot me a dark look over his shoulder. “Fiona, I will make you pay for this.” My abdomen throbbed violently, and the energy from my outburst vanished, leaving me unable to stand. I slowly slid onto the floor. After a long time, I gathered enough strength to pull out my phone. The internet was already filled with articles about me. 4 The headlines were horrific. They claimed I had slept around in high school and had undergone multiple abortions, that I had traded my body for grades in college, and that I had been unfaithful to Bennett throughout our relationship, which was why he had turned to Daisy. There were even doctored, explicit photos of me attached to the articles. The public opinion turned overnight. She deserves it. If she’s that dirty, of course her husband went looking elsewhere. I feel bad for Bennett. Imagine being married to a woman like that. Daisy isn’t a homewrecker, she’s an angel saving him from this nightmare! It was Bennett. Because I refused to clear Daisy’s name, he had decided to destroy mine instead. A surge of anger rushed to my head, and I reached for my phone to call him, but a call from my father came through first. “Fiona, I saw the news online.” “You need to stop being so stubborn. It’s normal for men to have affairs. Go apologize to Bennett and don’t ruin your chance of marrying into a wealthy family over this.” A cold dread settled over my skin. “I am your daughter. I am being publicly humiliated, and all you care about is his money?” My father’s voice became defensive. “Look, if you won’t do it, don’t blame me.” He hung up. A few minutes later, a video notification popped up. It was my father, publicly apologizing to Bennett, stating that he had “failed to raise a decent daughter” and confirming the rumors about my past. The pressure in my chest became unbearable, a heavy weight crushing my lungs, and I coughed up a mouth of dark blood. I dialed Bennett’s number. His voice was as cold as ever. “Have you seen the news?” “Twelve years, Bennett,” I whispered, my voice cracking. “This is how you treat me?” There was a brief pause on the other end. “Fiona, I didn’t want things to go this far.” “Come to the hospital and apologize to Daisy. She’s been having complications because of the stress. Once she forgives you, I will make sure your name is cleared.” I wanted to throw my phone against the wall, but I forced myself to take a deep breath. I had to live. I could not let them destroy my future. I dragged my exhausted body to the hospital. Inside the VIP room, Daisy was resting in Bennett’s arms, and he was gently feeding her soup. It looked as though they were the ones who had been married. I walked in slowly, looking at Daisy. “I’m sorry.” Daisy shot me a subtle, triumphant smirk before bursting into tears. “Mrs. Hopkins, I know you hate me. If you don’t want to apologize, you don’t have to force yourself. Please don’t put on a show!” Bennett’s face darkened, and he grabbed my arm, forcing me to my knees on the cold floor. “Daisy got on her knees to apologize to you. Show some actual sincerity!” My knees hit the tiled floor, the coldness traveling up my legs and sending an agonizing pain through my abdomen. I clenched my fists, my face turning white. Daisy noticed my expression, gasping dramatically. “Oh, is Mrs. Hopkins unwell?” Bennett gave me a look of pure disgust. “Ignore her. She always plays the victim to get my sympathy. It’s sickening.” He guided Daisy out of the room. Seconds later, a group of reporters armed with cameras and microphones burst into the room, crowding around me. The flashing lights were blinding. “Mrs. Hopkins, are the allegations about your past true? Have you been unfaithful to your husband?” “Your father publicly apologized for your behavior. Do you feel any remorse?” “Is your husband divorcing you because of your promiscuity? Please give us a statement!” The shouting voices came from every direction, suffocating me. The cameras were shoved directly into my face, and the pain in my abdomen grew so intense I could no longer sit upright. I felt something warm and thick trickling down my leg. The copper scent of blood filled the air. Just as my vision began to fade, a familiar figure pushed through the crowd, shielding me in his arms. “Get the hell away from her!”

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1 Returning home from my trip, the golden retriever who usually clung to me didn’t come to the door to greet me. I flipped on the lights. He was curled up tight in his bed, shaking. Two rows of cheap, thick false eyelashes were stuck to his eyelids. The glue had completely dried. His legs were trembling. Declan was woken up by the noise. He leaned against the doorframe, stifling a yawn. “A coworker came over to hang out. The new girl thought it’d be cute to play dress up.” This wasn’t playing dress up. It was a power play. She was marking her territory. She knew I would be coming home, and she knew exactly what I would see. I immediately took the dog to the emergency vet clinic. When I walked back into the house later, I heard Declan on the phone. His voice was laced with a low, amused chuckle. “Relax. As long as you’re happy, that’s what matters. It’s just a dog.” “Trust me, with me around, she wouldn’t dare flip out.” He must have forgotten something crucial. I was the one who dragged him out of the gutter and handed him his high level corporate position on a silver platter. I could easily strip it all away and turn him back into the pathetic, begging stray he used to be. The bedroom door was cracked open. Declan’s tone dripped with absolute affection. “I have to admit, you’re pretty handy.” He had the phone on speaker. The voice on the other end was sickeningly sweet. “Declan, maybe next time I can dye his fur? Your wife is honestly so weird. She stays home all day doing nothing, she could at least put some effort into making the dog look cute.” She dragged out the last syllable, making it sound like a whine. It was the new intern at his firm, Sophie. I had met her once when I dropped off some documents for Declan. She was in her early twenties, fresh out of college, radiating that annoying, invincible energy of youth. Back then, she had naturally reached out and taken the files and the thermos of hot soup right out of my hands. Her voice was painfully crisp. “Mrs. Valerie, Declan is in the middle of a major meeting and won’t be out for a while. You probably have chores to get back to at home anyway, so it’s best if you just head back.” Her tone was polite. Her posture was professional. On the surface, you couldn’t pick a flaw. But I wasn’t blind to the underlying arrogance and the subtle hostility in the girl’s eyes. However, before I took my sabbatical, an intern at her bottom feeder level wouldn’t even have the security clearance to breathe the same air as me, let alone speak to me. Stooping down to argue with her would only cheapen my own worth. Besides, I had known Declan for ten years. We had been married for seven. Over the years, he kept himself in great shape and built a solid career. Plenty of women had thrown themselves at him. He always laughed them off with a polite “my wife would kill me” excuse. But hearing him now, I just let out a dry, bitter laugh. Everything clicked into place. This marriage was already rotting from the inside out. Waffles seemed to sense the shift in my mood. He nudged my palm with his wet, warm nose, letting out a soft huff as if he was trying to comfort me. I looked down at him. His eyes were still swollen and red. He looked absolutely miserable. I bent over and gently rubbed his ears, and he let out a quiet whimper. The phone call in the bedroom ended. Declan shoved his phone into his sweatpants pocket and walked out, casually glancing at Waffles. “The kid just likes to goof around. She didn’t mean any harm. Besides, after she glued those on, she gave him a massive steak bone. If you think about it, Waffles came out on top.” My fingers unconsciously curled into tight fists. A memory flashed through my mind. The night we found Waffles. Declan had drank himself into a stupor at a client dinner and collapsed in an alley with alcohol poisoning. It was Waffles, a stray pup back then, who ran out to the street and bit the pant leg of a passerby, dragging them over to save him. When Declan woke up in the hospital, he swore that dog was his guardian angel. He promised to adopt him and treat him like royalty for the rest of his life. So much for the rest of his life. “Oh right,” Declan added, lightly nudging Waffles out of the way with his foot. He kept his tone completely nonchalant. “The girl said she’s coming over in a few days to dye his fur. I’ll text you a list of her favorite foods. Make sure you cook up something nice for her.” “We’re hosting a guest, after all. We can’t be rude.” Beneath the polite, respectable excuses, his heart had already packed its bags and left. I scoffed. I didn’t waste another breath on him. I just turned on my heel and walked straight into the walk in closet. I grabbed the dark grey, custom tailored Italian wool suit he had bought last month for eight thousand dollars. Then I picked up my fabric scissors. Without blinking, I jammed the blades right into the lapel. Snip. One cut. Then another. By the time Declan heard the noise and rushed in, the suit was shredded beyond recognition. His breath hitched. He stared at the ruined fabric in pure disbelief. “Valerie, are you out of your damn mind? I spent a whole month’s salary on that! I needed that for my meeting with Harrison on Friday!” Harrison was my old college senior. The only reason Declan even got a foot in the door with that account was because I pulled strings at a charity dinner last year. I tossed the mangled remains of the suit onto the hardwood floor. My voice was deadpan. “It’s just a suit. I thought it’d be cute to play dress up.” I threw his exact excuse right back in his face. Declan froze. When the reality set in, his chest heaved heavily. He ground his teeth together. “Over a dog. You’re throwing a massive tantrum and destroying my things… over a damn dog!” “You are completely unreasonable!” I raised an eyebrow, entirely unfazed. Women throw tantrums when they want to be coaxed. I wasn’t throwing a tantrum. I just wanted to make him bleed the exact same way I was bleeding. Declan dropped to his knees. His hands physically shook as he gathered the shredded pieces of his precious suit. “Look at yourself, Valerie! I bust my ass to provide for you, and this is what I get? A hysterical housewife?!” I actually laughed out loud. “Declan, you really know how to flatter yourself.” “You were the one who begged me to take a break. You said our parents were tired of waiting, and you wanted me to stay home and prep for a baby.” “A year ago, my corporate rank was five levels higher than yours.” When he first joined the firm, the man didn’t even know how to format a basic quarterly report. I had to hold his hand and teach him everything. I dragged him out of the bottom tier sales pit and hoisted him up to his current executive chair. I looked down at him. My voice was as icy and steady as it always was when I sat across from multinational corporate sharks at the negotiation table. “Declan. We are getting a divorce.” He snapped his head up, the words flying out of his mouth instantly. “No! I am not signing anything!” He scrambled up and tried to grab my wrist. “Just because I let her put fake eyelashes on the dog?” “I swear to God there is nothing going on between us! We haven’t even held hands!” When I didn’t react, his voice dropped an octave, slipping into that pathetic, pleading tone. “Fine. I’ll tell her she can’t come over to dye his fur. Okay?” I yanked my hand back. I stared at the man I had been with since our college days. His eyes were red, the corners slightly wet. Dragging this out would only rot my own soul. I forcefully suffocated the tiny flicker of sympathy rising in my chest and spoke with absolute absolute absolute coldness. “The second you let her torture my dog, you lost your seat at the table. You’re out.” I didn’t wait for his response. I walked out, went into the guest bedroom, and locked the door behind me. I didn’t sleep a wink. Dividing the bank accounts would be easy enough. But the corporate resources, the VIP contacts, the high level clients I had spoon fed him over the years. I was going to rip every single one of them back. I wasn’t about to plant a beautiful tree just to let some other bitch sit in its shade. I stayed up working on my laptop until five in the morning. I had barely closed my eyes for an hour when loud, frantic knocking rattled the bedroom door. It was followed by a sickeningly familiar, overly cheerful voice. “Valerie! It’s past seven! Are you seriously still sleeping?” I frowned, rubbing my temples, and yanked the door open. Sophie was standing there in a full face of flawless makeup. She let out a dramatic gasp. “Wow! I’m so jealous you get to sleep in until noon. Some of us actually have to hustle to make a living!” I ignored her, walking straight into the living room and taking a seat on the couch. I drummed my fingers against the armrest. “What exactly are you doing here?” My sharp glare hit her like a physical weight. Her eyelashes fluttered, and her fake smile faltered for a fraction of a second. But she recovered quickly, softening her voice into a pitiful whine. “Valerie, Declan told me you were super upset about the dog’s eyelashes. I was so worried you guys were going to fight, so I came all the way over here bright and early just to apologize!” Sophie practically skipped into my kitchen, moving around with the ease of someone who owned the place. “Let me pour you a drink to make up for it!” A minute later, she walked out holding a glass of juice. Her voice was practically bouncing off the walls. “The last time I was over, I casually mentioned that I like orange juice way better than watermelon juice. I can’t believe Declan actually went out and stocked the fridge for me. He is literally the sweetest boss ever!” I caught the unmistakable, triumphant gleam in her eyes. I kept my face perfectly blank, but something twisted violently in my chest. The sharp, zesty scent of oranges filled the air. My nose immediately started to itch, and I let out a series of harsh sneezes. “I don’t want it. You can leave now.” She acted like she was suddenly deaf. She took a few steps closer, practically shoving the glass of orange juice into my face. “Oh come on, just take a sip! If you don’t drink it, it means you hate me.” As she pushed the glass at me, the liquid sloshed over the rim. A few sticky drops splashed directly onto my lips and into my mouth. Almost instantly, angry red hives began breaking out across my arms. Right at that second, Declan pushed open the front door. His eyes immediately darted to the bright red patches spreading over my skin. Sophie gasped, taking a dramatic step back and covering her mouth. She laced her voice with perfectly calculated panic. “Oh my god… is she contagious?” Declan’s face went completely pale. He practically sprinted to the media console, yanking open the drawer to grab my emergency antihistamines. I snatched the pills from him and swallowed them dry. Seeing the medication go down, Declan’s rigid shoulders finally slumped. He turned around, glaring at Sophie and the glass of orange juice in her hand. He pinched the bridge of his nose. “She is highly allergic to citrus. I told you that last time. Why would you give her orange juice?” Sophie’s eyes instantly filled with tears. She lowered her head, looking utterly heartbroken. “I forgot… I was just so caught up in how happy I was that you actually remembered my favorite drink…” Her voice was as soft as cotton candy. Declan caught the pure adoration and puppy dog worship swimming in her teary eyes. The harsh lines on his face completely melted. He let out a soft sigh and gave her a gentle smile. “Alright, don’t cry. I know it was an accident.” Sophie immediately beamed through her tears. “Declan, I’m honestly just so touched. You went ten years without a single orange in this house just for her… but with one word from me, you broke all your rules.” She didn’t finish her sentence. She didn’t need to. I calmly reached out, took the glass of orange juice from her hands, flicked my wrist, and dumped the entire thing directly over her perfectly styled head. Sophie let out a bloodcurdling shriek. Declan roared, “Valerie!” He scrambled to grab a handful of tissues from the coffee table, desperately dabbing at Sophie’s face and hair. He shot me a look of pure disgust. “What the hell is wrong with you? Where is your basic human decency?” Sophie peered up at me through her sticky bangs. The look in her eyes spoke volumes. So what if you poured juice on me? He’s still choosing me. I met her arrogant stare and smiled. I pulled out my phone and dialed a number. “Director Mercer.” The voice on the other end answered instantly, practically tripping over itself with respect. “Valerie! Hey, what can I do for you?” Declan froze dead in his tracks. Sophie whispered, her voice trembling with sudden uncertainty, “Is that… the VP of the Eastern Division? How does she have his private number?” I kept my tone perfectly flat. “There’s a new intern in your department. Sophie. She glued fake eyelashes to my dog and broke into my house to force feed me something I’m deathly allergic to.” Mercer wasn’t an idiot. He caught on in a heartbeat. “Say no more. Consider it handled. I’m so sorry for the trouble.” I hung up the phone and looked at Sophie, a mockingly polite smile resting on my face. She looked terrified, but her mouth was still running. “You’re just a washed up housewife! You don’t know the VP. Stop bluffing!” Five seconds later. Sophie’s phone rang. She swiped to answer it, and every ounce of color violently drained from her face. “…HR is terminating my contract effective immediately?” Sophie’s voice shook violently as she looked up at Declan, silently begging him to fix it. Declan swallowed hard, pulled out his phone, and dialed his boss. “Director Mercer, it’s Declan. Listen, about Sophie…” Mercer cut him off. His voice was so loud I could hear it from the couch. “Are you out of your fucking mind, Declan?” Mercer was absolutely furious. “You have the balls to beg for someone else’s job? I wouldn’t dare cross Vice President Valerie in a million years! If your mess splashes onto me, I’ll fire your ass right along with her!” The living room fell dead silent. I casually crossed my legs and gave Sophie a side eye. “See? He can’t save you.” Sophie couldn’t formulate a single word. She just glared at me with pure, unadulterated hatred. I tilted my chin toward the front door. “Are you going to leave, or do I need to call security to drag you out?” She bit her lip so hard it almost bled, tears streaming down her ruined makeup. She grabbed her purse and bolted out the door. The door slammed shut. I stood up and headed back to the guest room. As I walked past Declan, he grabbed my arm. “Did you really have to destroy a young girl’s career like that? Does making her suffer make you feel good?” I violently ripped my arm out of his grip. When I looked at him now, I just felt bone deep exhaustion. “The divorce papers have been emailed to you. Read the terms. Sign them. Today.” The next day, I moved out and relocated to a luxury corporate apartment my company had kept on retainer for me. Declan refused to sign the papers. He bombarded my phone with apology texts every single hour. He sent expensive flowers and designer gifts to my office, acting exactly like he did when we first started dating. I replied with one single sentence: “Sign the papers within seven days, or I’m taking this to litigation.” A few days later, I was out running errands when a torrential downpour hit, soaking me to the bone. Luckily, a condo I had purchased entirely in my own name before we got married was just a few blocks away. I headed upstairs to grab a quick shower and a change of clothes. When I stood in front of the door and punched in my keypad code, the lock beeped red. Error. Rainwater was literally dripping off my jeans. It was early autumn, and the sharp chill made me sneeze violently. Then, the door unlocked from the inside. Sophie stood in the doorway. She was barefoot, wearing my custom silk pajamas. Her eyes slowly dragged from my soaked hair down to the puddle forming at my feet. She let out a sharp, mocking laugh. “Oh, Valerie. Since you got me fired, I obviously couldn’t pay my rent. Declan said this place was just sitting empty, so he let me crash here. You don’t mind, do you?” I pressed my lips into a thin line, shoved my shoulder past her, and marched inside. Sophie immediately started screaming from behind me. “Hey! Watch it! I just mopped that floor!” I walked into the master bedroom. The closet had been entirely cleared out. It was completely stuffed with Sophie’s cheap mall clothes. I turned around. She was leaning against the doorframe, a smug little smirk playing on her lips. “Oh, right. I shoved all your old stuff into the guest room. You weren’t wearing it anyway, and it seemed like a waste to let you hog the master.” I checked the guest room. My expensive tailored suits and designer dresses were piled onto the mattress and dumped on the floor like garbage. Some of them had bright red lipstick smeared across the fabric. I didn’t say a single word. I quietly found some clean clothes, took a hot shower, blew dry my hair, and drank a glass of hot water to chase away the freezing chill. Only when I felt completely like myself again did I stride confidently out into the living room. Sophie was sitting on the couch, painting her fingernails. My pristine, cream colored Italian leather sofa was now stained with streaks of neon nail polish. She stood up, casually blowing on her wet nails. “Since you tracked mud all over the place, be a doll and mop it up on your way out. It’s just basic manners.” I stopped right in front of her. I raised my hand high into the air and slapped her directly across the face with everything I had. Crack. Sophie’s head snapped to the side. The bottle of nail polish shattered against the hardwood floor. At that exact moment, the heavy thud of grocery bags hitting the floor echoed from the entryway.

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