Author: Momo Chan

1 In the third year after a book-transmigrator bound to a strategy system took over my body, his mission was declared a failure. To win over those powerful women in high society, he wore my face every day and acted like a shameless clown. In the end, he became the joke of the entire city and tore my once peaceful family apart. Before leaving this world, he left a gloating message in my mind. “What a shame. I ruined your hand.” “Your three sisters now wish you were dead, and your woman only sees you as a clingy stray dog.” “Enjoy the rest of your life yourself.” I opened my eyes abruptly. Before I could even catch my breath, a slap struck my face. Slap. My head snapped to the side. My ears rang. “Dorian Vale, how long are you going to keep making trouble?” A furious voice came from above. I lifted my head. The person before me was my second sister, Serena Vale. This top actress, who once stood in the rain for three hours just to buy me a limited-edition cake, was now glaring at me with rage. Not far away, the poolside was a mess. My nominal younger brother, Mason Vale, was soaked through, curled up on a lounge chair and shivering while coughing nonstop. The woman protecting him was Bianca Shaw. She was the untouchable heiress of the capital circle, and the number one target that transmigrator had spent three years licking like a dog. Bianca gently patted Mason’s back, then lifted her eyes and glanced at me. “Miss Vale, today I’ve truly seen how your family raises people.” Her voice dropped coldly. “Since Mr. Vale likes water so much, why not let him soak in the pool all night and clear his head?” Serena’s face turned even uglier at that. She spun around and shouted at me. “What are you waiting for? Get over there, kneel, and apologize to Mason.” “If you had actually drowned him, I’d be the first to kill you.” I didn’t speak. Three years. That absurd transmigrator had occupied my body for three whole years. I had been like a spectator locked in a dark room, forced to watch him use my face to flatter and stir up trouble in this circle. To please Bianca, he tried to drug her. To compete for the attention of my three sisters, he targeted Mason every day, crying, threatening, and making scenes. He trampled my dignity into the ground and squandered all my family ties. Now he had walked away, leaving me this mess. Seeing that I still hadn’t moved, a cold laugh came from the other side of the hall. My eldest sister, Audrey Vale, stood and threw a stack of documents at my feet. “Don’t force him to apologize. A person like him has no heart.” Audrey looked down at me, not a trace of warmth in her eyes. “Dorian Vale, these past three years, we gave you countless chances. You were the one who kept being shameless.” “Sign this relationship severance agreement. From today on, you are no longer part of the Vale family.” “Audrey…” Mason weakly lifted his head from Bianca’s arms. “Don’t do this. Dorian only cares too much about you all. It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have come back…” “Mason, you’re too kind. That’s why he bullies you.” My third sister, Sylvia Vale, who had been silent until now, walked over. “Dorian, you have severe mania and paranoid personality disorder. As a doctor, I recommend you receive compulsory treatment immediately.” “Mason was lucky today and didn’t die. Leave yourself a last bit of dignity.” Everyone in the banquet hall was watching my humiliation. Watching the once-spoiled young master of the Vale family be swept out by his own sisters. Based on the transmigrator’s memories from the past three years, I should now throw myself at Audrey’s feet, crying that I was wrong. Or scream at Bianca that I was innocent, that Mason had fallen in by himself. They were all waiting for me to go crazy. Waiting for me to kneel on the floor and beg for forgiveness like before. But I didn’t. I stood quietly, raised my hand, and wiped the corner of my mouth. Sticky. I looked at the blood on the back of my hand for one second, then slowly crouched and picked up the severance agreement. “Pen?” My voice wasn’t loud, but everyone froze. Serena seemed not to understand what I had said. She frowned instinctively. “What trick are you playing now? Dorian Vale, I’m warning you. Even if you die here today, we won’t soften again.” “I’m not playing tricks.” I straightened and looked at her calmly. “I asked where the pen is. Don’t you want me to sign?” My reaction made Audrey frown too. She snorted coldly, took a pen from her pocket, and threw it at my feet. “Stop pretending.” “If you sign quickly, I can still have someone transfer one million to your card so you don’t starve on the street and embarrass us.” I bent and picked up the pen. Without hesitation, without even reading the clauses, I flipped straight to the last page and signed my name. After signing, I handed the agreement to Audrey. She didn’t take it. She stared at my face, shock flickering in her eyes. “You’re not taking it? Then I’ll leave it here.” I placed the agreement on the table, then turned to Sylvia. “Dr. Vale.” I changed my form of address. I no longer called her my third sister. Sylvia paused slightly and looked at me. “I’m not sick, but thank you for the medical advice.” My tone was calm. “In the future, tell the Vale kitchen to use less salt. Your stomach can’t handle heavy food, and too much will make it hurt.” Then I looked at Serena. “That slap just now clears the debt between us.” “From now on, I won’t embarrass you by picking you up at airports or visiting your sets anymore.” Finally, my gaze passed them and landed on Bianca and Mason. Whether the transmigrator pushed Mason or not no longer mattered to me. “Miss Shaw.” I looked at Bianca’s cold face. “These three years, my pestering must have annoyed you.” “From now on, I won’t appear in front of you again. I wish you and Mason a long, happy life together.” After saying so much, it felt as though all my strength had been drained. I turned and walked step by step toward the banquet hall doors. No one behind me spoke. Perhaps my abnormal calm had stunned them. When I reached the entrance, the night wind blew in. It was cold, and a light rain had started. I was wearing the transmigrator’s favorite pure white fitted formal suit, tacky and thin. The wind hit me, and I couldn’t help shivering. Serena’s furious voice suddenly sounded behind me. “Dorian Vale. If you walk out that door, don’t ever expect to come back.” “You think playing hard to get will make us feel bad for you? Dream on.” I didn’t turn around. I only pushed open the heavy door and stepped into the rainy night outside. The wind outside was strong. Rain instantly soaked my hair. Before I could walk down the steps, more than a dozen blinding flashlight beams lit up in the darkness. “He’s out. That shameless Dorian Vale is out.” “Block him. Don’t let him run.” A short-haired girl rushed forward first and splashed a cup of ice water straight onto me. “We all saw it in the group chat. You pushed Mason into the pool.” “You vicious man. Why don’t you just die?” A group of young girls holding support signs rushed from the dark, blocking the stairs. The signs had Serena’s name printed on them. They were her fans. For the past three years, the transmigrator had gone to Serena’s sets every day to leech off her fame, so her fans had long seen me as a thorn in their side. The banquet schedule wasn’t secret. Clearly, they had come specifically to ambush me. Ice water soaked half my body. A cold wind blew past, and I shivered. According to the transmigrator’s habits over the past three years, he would have screamed and covered his face, then fled back into the hall and thrown himself into Serena or Audrey’s arms, crying for help. But I didn’t hide or cry. I only stood there quietly. Then the door behind me opened. My three sisters came out, along with Bianca, who was protecting Mason. Bodyguards immediately opened umbrellas to shield them from the wind and rain. They stood on the steps and looked indifferently at me, surrounded by fans in the rain. When Serena saw this, not only did she not stop her fans, she sneered. “Dorian Vale, what sob story are you trying to perform now?” “You deliberately used the front entrance to anger my fans so I’d feel sorry for you?” Her eyes were full of disgust. “I’m telling you, even if they beat you to death today, I won’t protect you again.” Audrey adjusted her cuff and said coldly, “Make him leave. Don’t let him embarrass the Vale family at the door.” Sylvia pushed up her glasses and looked at me, soaked through. “You brought this on yourself.” As for Bianca, she didn’t even look at me. All her attention remained on Mason in her arms. They were waiting. Waiting for me to be cursed by the fans and cry for them to step in like before. Just then, Mason broke free from Bianca’s arms and took a small step forward. “Dorian, the rain is heavy. You’ll get sick if you leave like this.” After saying that, he blinked and looked at the necklace around my neck. “Dorian… that necklace was the coming-of-age gift my mother left me. If you really want to leave, can you return it to me?” The moment he said that, the surroundings exploded. Several fans pointed at me and cursed. “Shameless. He got kicked out and still wants to steal Mason’s things.” “He’s a thief. Don’t let him take Mason’s necklace.” Serena’s face turned iron-blue. She rushed down the steps. “Dorian Vale, you’re hopeless. You even stole from Mason. Take it off right now.” Audrey’s eyes filled with deeper disgust. She ordered the bodyguards coldly, “Go get the necklace back. If he refuses, use force.” Bianca finally lifted her head and looked at me with mockery. “Dorian Vale, if you want money, I can give you some. But stealing is truly beneath you.” Hearing her say that, I felt nothing. Before the transmigrator occupied my body, Bianca and I actually had an engagement. Back then, although she was cold, she gave me the only softness she had. She had severe mysophobia and never allowed anyone close. But on snowy winter days, she would naturally take my cold hand and tuck it into the pocket of her coat to warm it. She was a workaholic, but because I casually said I wanted to see the sea, she canceled a meeting worth billions without hesitation and drove me there overnight. Then she scolded me for being reckless while wrapping her coat around me. But in these three years, the transmigrator twisted everything between us to complete his strategy mission. He drugged her and climbed into her bed. He fought like a lunatic for attention. He not only threw my dignity onto the ground, but also wore down the affection Bianca once had for me into the disgust she had now. The reason she treated Mason so well now was simply because he resembled the me from three years ago, before I “went mad.” Looking at the contempt in her eyes now, I only felt bored. This necklace had clearly been left to me by my mother. But the transmigrator wore it everywhere just to provoke Mason. Now it had somehow become Mason’s property. If it were before, the transmigrator would have argued with them, saying the necklace was mine. I did not. There was no point explaining to these people. I lifted my hand to the clasp behind my neck. Click. I opened it. Triumph flashed in Mason’s eyes. He reached out to take it. “Thank you, Dorian…” But I didn’t hand it to him. With a turn of my wrist, I threw the necklace into the puddle at my feet. Mud splashed onto Mason’s pants. “Ah!” Mason screamed in fright and stepped back, crying. “If you didn’t want to give it to me, that’s fine. Why throw away something my mother left me?” “What are you doing?” Bianca pulled Mason back under the umbrella and glared at me viciously. Serena lost control and rushed forward, raising her hand to slap me again. “You bastard. Watch me…” I stood still, looking at her hand frozen midair. “Hit me.” My voice was cold. “If this slap lands, tomorrow’s headline will be: Second Miss Vale Assaults Ordinary Man in Public.” Serena’s hand froze in the air. She shook with anger, but did not dare lower it. I ignored her. Then, in front of all of them, I removed every accessory on my body. Finally, I bent down and took off the leather shoes that had rubbed my heels bloody. Barefoot, I stepped into the rainwater and looked up at the people on the steps. “I won’t keep a single thing from the Vale family. From now on, Dorian Vale has nothing to do with the Vales or the Shaws.” After saying that, I turned around. The fans below the steps were stunned by my demeanor. Someone stepped back first, and the crowd blocking the path unconsciously opened a way. Rain fell on my face as I walked step by step into the depths of the night. Serena remained frozen with her hand raised. Her gaze unconsciously dropped to the shoes on the ground. Then her whole body trembled. The backs of those shoes were soaked completely red with blood. Not only her. The women on the steps were all staring at that red stain. For the past three years, that “Dorian Vale” would cry and scream for half a month over even a paper cut, forcing everyone to comfort him. But just now, with his heels rubbed raw and bleeding, he had stepped barefoot onto the gravelly wet ground without even frowning. That feeling was familiar and strange. Because three years ago, before that man “went mad,” the real Dorian Vale had been like this. Mason sensed the atmosphere shift. Seeing all the women staring in the direction Dorian had left, panic flickered in his eyes. He quickly crouched and picked up the necklace. “Please don’t be angry with Dorian.” Mason held the necklace in his hands and smiled. “He must have been confused when he took this from my room.” “I already said I don’t blame him. Why is his temper still so bad?” After speaking, he instinctively leaned toward Bianca. In the past, Bianca would always gently catch him at times like this. This time, not only did Bianca not move forward, she stepped half a pace away. Mason stumbled and missed. He lifted his head in disbelief. “Bianca…” Bianca frowned at the necklace in his hand and said in a low voice, “Mason Vale, you said he stole this necklace from your room?” Mason’s heart skipped, but he braced himself and nodded. “Y-yes. It was the coming-of-age gift my mother left me…” “You’re lying.”

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1 After seven years together, Vivian Cross’s greatest talent was threatening to break up with me. Every time I reminded her to sleep earlier and stop wrecking her health, she would snap, “Noah Reed, can you stop managing me like my agent? If you’re sick of this, then break up with me.” To help her win Best Actress, I rewrote scripts for her, buried scandals, and stayed with her through night after night of online abuse. Then, on the eve of the awards ceremony, I received a set of photos. In them, she and Jamie Cole were kissing in a hotel hallway. That same night, she had told me her stomach hurt and asked me to skip an investment meeting to bring her medicine. Before I could question her, she sent a voice message first. “Jamie was under a lot of pressure. I was just rehearsing with him. Can you be mature for once? If you keep being paranoid, we should break up.” I stared at the photo for a long time, then closed the ring box I had planned to give her after the ceremony. Quietly, I replied, “Fine. Let’s break up.” She paused, then scoffed. “Here we go again. Suit yourself.” I did not explain. I threw the ring I had saved three years to buy into the trash. My phone lit up again. Vivian texted: 【Stop being dramatic. The awards are tomorrow night. Send me the final draft of my speech.】 No explanation. No apology. Just the entitlement to ask me to keep writing for her. I sat in the studio and looked at the acceptance speech on my screen. The first line on the first page was something she had asked me to write herself. 【At the lowest point of my life, someone held my hand and kept pulling me forward.】 Back then, she had curled up on the couch with a cushion in her arms and asked, “Noah, if I really win, I’ll thank you onstage, okay?” I had said okay. Thinking back now, I was pretty stupid. For seven years, I rewrote scripts for her, drank for her at dinners, suppressed trending scandals, and carried her from a mocked pretty face to a Best Actress nominee. Later, everyone said Vivian Cross had been born to act. Only I knew I had lifted her there, inch by inch. I selected the entire speech and pressed delete. Then I deleted the tribute video I had prepared for her. My assistant, Sam, pushed the door open and froze. “Noah, wasn’t that Vivian’s surprise?” “No need.” I handed him a project list. “Organize all contracts related to Vivian’s studio. Send them to legal tomorrow.” Sam’s face changed. “Did you two fight again?” Again. Everyone was used to it. Vivian said break up, and I coaxed her. She blocked me, and I sent her schedule through work email. She stormed out, and I chased her to the parking lot. So this time, no one believed I was truly done. An unknown number called. I answered. Jamie’s voice came through, trembling with tears. “Mr. Reed, please don’t blame Vivian about the photos. It was all my fault. I drank too much that night. She was only helping me.” Helping him so thoroughly their lips touched. He paused, then added, “If I’m making you unhappy, I can skip the awards ceremony. Though Vivian said she hoped I’d be there in the audience with her.” Every word landed perfectly. Wronged, obedient, and still showing off. I leaned back in my chair, my stomach beginning to ache. “Go.” The other end went quiet. I said flatly, “Have fun.” Then I hung up. 2 I went to the awards ceremony that night too. At the end of the red carpet, Vivian wore a black couture gown, elegant and untouchable. Jamie stood beside her in a white suit, clean-cut and handsome. The media asked them to stand closer. He turned slightly and rested a hand on her waist. She smiled. Camera flashes exploded. I watched in silence. Soon, my phone vibrated. 【You’re here?】 I did not reply. She sent another. 【Tonight matters to me. Don’t make that face.】 When Best Actress was announced, the lights dimmed. The big screen played the crying scene that made her famous. I had coached her through that scene, line by line. Back then, the director had yelled at her, “It’s fake. There’s no feeling in it!” She hid in the dressing room and smashed a cup. I comforted her, encouraged her, and rehearsed with her. Later, that scene passed in one take. When the host read her name, applause thundered through the hall. Vivian stood up and glanced at me first, as if confirming I was still there. The next second, Jamie wrapped his arms around her. The camera caught a close-up. People in the audience cheered. Vivian stiffened for half a second, then patted his back. She went onstage with red-rimmed eyes. “Thank you to the director, the crew, and every audience member who supported me.” She paused. My hands slowly tightened on my knees. Then she looked down at the audience. “And thank you, Jamie.” The spotlight swept over Jamie. He looked up at her, eyes wet. Vivian smiled. “During this time, I was under so much pressure. He talked with me, stayed with me, and helped me through the hardest days.” Applause rose again. The camera, very considerately, cut to my face. On the big screen, I sat in the audience, my expression pale. Someone nearby whispered, “Isn’t that Noah Reed?” “Her ex? Awkward.” “Did Vivian just announce her new man?” I heard every word. Vivian saw it too. For a second, her expression faltered. But she still did not add my name. She only lifted the trophy. “Thank you for loving me.” Afterward, she had her assistant call me to the dressing room. When I entered, Jamie was sitting on the sofa, pale-faced. Vivian stood beside him, holding a cup of warm water. When she saw me, the first thing she said was, “Why weren’t you smiling earlier?” I opened the photo and held it in front of her. “Explain.” Her face hardened. “Do you have to make trouble today of all days?” “When am I allowed to ask?” “I told you, Jamie was stressed. I was rehearsing with him. It’s just the angle.” Jamie immediately stood. “Mr. Reed, it’s all my fault. The director said I had no talent, and I drank too much that night. Vivian was just afraid something would happen to me.” As he spoke, his eyes reddened again. Vivian’s voice softened at once. “You don’t need to explain.” Then she turned to me, frost in her eyes. “Noah, you’re a grown man. Do you really have to pick on a younger actor who just entered the industry?” Younger actor. Two light words, and seven years of my devotion were pressed into nothing. Jamie lowered his head. “Maybe I should go. As long as Mr. Reed stops being angry, I won’t see you again.” He had barely moved when Vivian grabbed his wrist. “You’re not going anywhere.” She looked up at me. “Apologize to Jamie.” I stared into her eyes for a long time. Then I said quietly, “No.” She froze. In the past, as long as she frowned, I would lower my head first. Even when I had done nothing wrong. But this time, I did not. Her expression darkened. “Then go cool off. I don’t want to see you tonight.” I nodded. “Okay.” Before the door closed, I heard Jamie ask, “Vivian, does Mr. Reed really hate me that much?” Vivian comforted him gently. “Don’t mind him. I spoiled him too much.” The door shut. Those words landed squarely on my back. 3 The after-party was held on the top floor of the hotel. I was about to leave when her manager stopped me. “Mr. Reed, the press is everywhere. Don’t embarrass Vivian.” Don’t embarrass her. All these years, everyone had advised me the same way. As if her dignity was naturally my responsibility to patch up. In the banquet hall, Vivian stood in the center of the crowd. Jamie blocked drinks for her. Someone teased, “Jamie looks more like the male lead tonight than the actual male lead.” Another laughed. “Should we start calling him brother-in-law?” Jamie’s ears turned red. “Don’t say that. Vivian will get mad.” As he spoke, he looked at her. Vivian swirled her wine glass and scolded him with a smile. “Stop joking.” She did not admit it. She did not deny it either. Beside me, Sam’s face went white with anger. “Noah, let’s go.” But Vivian saw me and waved. “Noah, come here.” I did not move. Jamie came over with a glass of wine. “Mr. Reed, let me toast you. Vivian winning tonight is partly thanks to you too.” Partly. What a perfect word. I ignored him. His hand froze midair, and his eyes began to redden again. Vivian’s voice sank. “Noah!” My stomach hurt badly. I did not want to keep humiliating myself here, so I explained, “My stomach isn’t well. I’m not drinking.” Vivian walked over and shoved the glass into my hand. “It’s just one sip. Don’t ruin the mood.” Seven years ago, an investor had forced her to drink, and I drank in her place until I ended up with acute gastritis. She cried by my hospital bed and said she would never let me touch alcohol again. Now she said, don’t ruin the mood. I put the glass back on the table. “I’m not drinking.” Jamie hurriedly said, “Forget it, Vivian. Mr. Reed might really be uncomfortable.” As he stepped back, he tripped. The red wine in his hand spilled all over me. My white shirt bloomed red in an instant. He panicked and reached for tissues. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.” I frowned and pushed his hand away. Vivian stepped in front of him. “He already apologized. What else do you want?” I looked down at the mess across my chest and suddenly remembered a long time ago. She had also been splashed with wine. I had taken off my jacket, draped it over her shoulders, and pulled her out of that dinner party. That night, she hugged my waist and said, “Noah, I want you to protect me forever.” And I did. I protected her for seven years. Until she finally became the heroine who could shield someone else behind her. I went to the restroom. Cold water ran over the back of my hand, but it could not ease the pain in my stomach. I texted her: 【I’m leaving first. We’ll talk tomorrow.】 She replied quickly. 【Don’t throw a tantrum tonight.】 I stared at those words. My mouth tugged slightly, but I could not even laugh. 4 The next day, Vivian came to the studio. She took off her sunglasses and threw a script onto my desk. “Change the male lead of When the Cold Wind Passes to Jamie.” This script was the film I had spent three years writing. The female lead was based on her. I had planned to give it to her as a career-transforming project after she won Best Actress. She knew better than anyone how much of my heart was in it. I opened the script. A few sticky notes were tucked inside. But the handwriting was not hers. 【Make the male lead feel younger.】 【Add more romance.】 【Ending would be more tragic if the female lead gives up her career for him.】 I looked up. “Jamie wrote these?” Vivian frowned. “He was just making suggestions.” “Does he even understand scripts?” “Noah, don’t be so harsh.” I closed the script. “I won’t change it.” “Why?” “He doesn’t deserve it.” Just then, Jamie’s voice came from the doorway. “Am I here at a bad time?” He held two coffees and stood there obediently. Vivian’s tone softened immediately. “Come in.” Jamie looked at me, eyes already wet. “Mr. Reed, if you think I don’t deserve the role, I can withdraw. Please don’t let me affect you two.” I said flatly, “You really don’t deserve it.” The office froze. Vivian shot to her feet. “Noah, that’s enough!” “No, it isn’t.” I tore off the sticky notes. “If you two want to sell a couple fantasy, go ahead. If you want to flirt, fine. But don’t touch my script.” Vivian stared at me, then suddenly laughed. “Your script?” Her voice was not loud, but every word stabbed straight into my chest. “My studio paid for the early-stage development. This project was built around me. Can you afford to pull out?” As soon as she said it, even Jamie froze. Vivian stiffened too. But she did not apologize. She only looked away. “I didn’t mean it like that. You’re the professional one. You understand what I want best. Just help me this once.” Yes. I understood her best. So when she hurt me, she also knew exactly where to stab. That afternoon, the trending page exploded. #JamieColeVivianCrossLivingTogether# It started from a livestream. Jamie was wearing a charcoal-gray jacket while chatting with fans on a hotel sofa. Fans dug up an old photo from Vivian’s house and found the same jacket in the corner. It was my jacket. Two winters ago, I stayed up at her house rewriting a script and left it in her closet by mistake. During the livestream, someone asked whose jacket it was. Jamie looked down, smiled, and said, “Oh, this? I just grabbed it.” He did not say more. But it was enough. Half an hour later, Vivian called me. Her first words were, “Don’t post anything yet.” I leaned back in my chair. My stomach hurt so badly that cold sweat broke out on my forehead. “Post what?” “A clarification,” she said. “Jamie just got an endorsement. He can’t be labeled a homewrecker. Post that our relationship is stable and the jacket was taken by mistake on set.” For a second, I thought I had misheard. “We’ve already broken up.” She was silent for a second, then impatiently said, “Don’t focus on that right now. When the trending topic passes, we can talk privately.” “You want me to pretend we’re still together to protect him?” “It’s not protecting him. It’s protecting everyone.” Her voice turned cold. “Noah, it’s one sentence. Do you really have to ruin a newcomer?” I looked out the window. The sky was dark. Rain was coming. “I won’t post it.” The other end went quiet. Then she laughed coldly. “Fine. Don’t regret it.” That night, her studio released a statement. The jacket, they said, was spare wardrobe from the crew. Online rumors were fabricated. They did not mention me. Jamie reposted it: 【Sorry for worrying everyone. Thank you, Vivian, for always protecting me.】 Fans cried all over the comments. 【Poor baby.】 【Vivian is so responsible.】 【Certain ex-boyfriends should stop buying smear campaigns. If you can’t have her, don’t go crazy.】 My name was dragged across every platform. They called me a kept man, a control freak, a parasite who used Vivian to enter the industry and then bit her hand. Sam was furious. “Noah, let’s release the evidence.” I braced myself against the desk and stood. The pain in my stomach felt like a knife twisting inside me. “Take me to the hospital.” The test results came back. The doctor frowned. “Gastric bleeding. You need to be admitted immediately.” As the IV needle entered the back of my hand, I made one last call to Vivian. It rang for a long time before she answered. The background was noisy. Someone shouted, “Vivian, Mr. Cole is needed for the shoot.” She lowered her voice. “What is it?” I looked at the IV bag and said quietly, “I’m in the hospital. Gastric bleeding.” She paused. Jamie’s voice came closer. “Vivian, is this collar too low?” Vivian covered the receiver, her voice muffled. “Wait a second.” Then she said to me, “Noah, don’t use your body to pressure me. I’m shooting a magazine spread. Jamie’s not in a good state. I can’t leave.” I said nothing. She sounded even more annoyed. “Aren’t the doctors there? You’re a grown man. Can you stop coming to me for everything?” A nurse pushed a cart past the corridor. Listening to the wheels, I remembered Vivian’s first stomach spasm. I drove from the east side of the city to the west, running three red lights. She clutched my hand and said, “Noah, don’t go.” Now it was my turn. She said she could not leave. I said softly, “Okay.” Then I hung up. The nurse asked, “Will your family come?” I looked at the back of my hand and gave a bitter smile. “No.” Half an hour later, I had Sam bring my laptop. He was anxious. “Noah, the doctor said you need to stay.” “Book the earliest flight to Harbor City.” “Now?” “Now.” I sent Vivian’s studio a termination letter. I returned every cent of the early development funds for When the Cold Wind Passes, revoked her priority cooperation rights for the script, and shut down all shared document access. I blocked every way she could contact me. Finally, I put the key to our shared apartment into a courier envelope. At one in the morning, it was raining in the capital. I got into the car to the airport. Sam asked, “Do you want to send her one last message?” “No.” I watched the streetlights blur past the window and suddenly thought of that ring. By now, it had probably already been dumped into a garbage truck. Good. Some things belonged exactly where they rotted. After seven years of walking through storms together, loving Vivian had finally reached its last stop.

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1 During our three years of marriage, Marcus had one golden rule. “We do not lend family money to outsiders. We help with emergencies, not poor choices. That is the line we do not cross.” So, when my dad was ten thousand dollars short for his stomach cancer surgery, I practically begged Marcus on my knees. He did not even blink. “If we break this rule today, your whole family will come crawling to bleed us dry tomorrow. I am protecting our future, Nora.” In the end, I sold the heirloom jewelry my mother had left me to pay for the surgery. I swallowed the bitterness, telling myself that once you are married, you have to respect boundaries. Until Marcus’s childhood friend, Vanessa, came back to the city to start her own business and found herself short on startup capital. I watched with my own eyes as Marcus transferred eighty thousand dollars out of our joint account. When I confronted him, he actually smiled. “This is different. Vanessa is building a real business, a guaranteed success. Besides, she is not an outsider.” Looking at the numbers on the transaction history, the truth finally hit me like a physical blow. It was never about rules or principles. A ten-thousand-dollar life-saving surgery made my father an outsider. An eighty-thousand-dollar business venture made Vanessa family. The only difference was who was asking. I did not scream. I did not cry. I simply pulled our marriage certificate from the drawer and slapped it onto the desk. “Since she is family, let her be your wife.” … “Are you done throwing a tantrum?” “Nora, you are asking for a divorce over eighty thousand dollars?” “That was our down payment for a house in the school district.” I stared at him, my voice flat. “Money sitting in an account does nothing. I looked over Vanessa’s project. The return on investment is massive.” “The return is massive?” I pointed at the screen of my phone, showing the transfer record. “So you took our joint marital funds without even a single conversation with me.” “I told you, it is an investment.” “Vanessa just got back. She has no connections and is short on cash. As the older brother figure who grew up with her, what is wrong with me helping her out?” “An older brother.” I looked him dead in the eye, speaking slowly. “Then what about my dad?” “Three years ago, my dad was ten thousand dollars short for his cancer surgery. I knelt on the floor and begged you. What did you say to me then?” Marcus’s eyes darkened. “How long are you going to throw that in my face?” “I explained it to you back then. Your family’s situation is a bottomless pit.” “If I give ten thousand today, what happens when he relapses tomorrow? Do I pay a hundred thousand? I am a married man. I have to protect our own household. I cannot let your family drain us dry.” He spoke with absolute, unshakable righteousness. “And what if Vanessa’s startup fails?” “She won’t fail.” “And even if she does, I can afford to lose eighty thousand dollars. Consider it tuition for her learning experience.” A wave of nausea hit me. A ten-thousand-dollar surgery to save a life was a drain. Eighty thousand dollars for a startup was tuition. In his eyes, my father’s life was worth less than Vanessa’s little playground game. “Marcus.” I pushed the divorce papers closer to him. “I am not throwing a tantrum. Sign the papers.” He finally put his pen down and looked up at me. “Nora, do you have to be this unreasonable? You know Vanessa is like a little sister to me.” Right then, his phone lit up on the desk. The name Vanessa flashed on the screen. Marcus glanced at me, then picked it up. “What is it?” his voice softened instantly. “Marcus! I got the money. Don’t worry, I won’t let you down.” “Good. Work hard.” “But is Nora going to be mad? Maybe I should call her and explain.” “Don’t worry about her,” Marcus said, his eyes resting on me. “She is just throwing a little fit. She will get over it in a couple of days.” “You have to be extra sweet to her then, or I will feel so guilty.” “I know. Get some rest.” He hung up and set the phone face down on the desk. “Did you hear that? Vanessa was worried you would be upset. Why can’t you be sensible like her for once?” I looked at him, suddenly realizing what a complete joke my life had been. To keep this household running, I looked at the price tag of every cup of coffee I bought. Yet he could toss eighty thousand dollars to someone else without a second thought. “She is very sensible,” I whispered. “You two deserve each other.” I turned to walk out of the study. “Where are you going?” Marcus called out behind me. “It is late. I am sleeping in the guest room.” “Nora, if you walk out that door tonight, do not expect me to come crawling back to make peace tomorrow.” “Do not bother.” I pushed the door open and walked out. The line at the hospital’s billing window was painfully long. I clutched my debit card, my palms slick with cold sweat. “Ma’am, the card was declined.” The cashier spoke through the glass. “You are still short two thousand dollars. Do you have another card or an app?” I froze, staring at the plastic card. This was the secondary card linked to the joint account Marcus and I shared. When I checked yesterday, there was still over five thousand dollars in there. “Is there a mistake? There should be money in there.” “The machine does not lie. The balance is down to thirty dollars.” The cashier tapped the glass impatiently. “There is a line behind you. Are you paying or not?” “Give me a minute, please.” I stepped out of the line, my hands shaking as I opened my mobile banking app. Your password has been changed. Please log in again. The blood drained from my face, leaving me utterly cold. Marcus had changed the password and cleaned out the account. Leaning against the sterile wall of the hospital corridor, I called Marcus. It rang for a long time before he finally answered. “What?” “Where is the money in our account?” “I transferred it to my personal account. Nora, since you are so intent on a divorce, it is only natural that I freeze our joint assets.” “My dad needs his targeted therapy drugs today. Just transfer the two thousand dollars to me. I do not want a single penny of the rest.” Silence fell over the line for a moment, followed by a harsh, mocking laugh. “Here you go again.” Marcus sighed. “Nora, do you honestly think you can use your father’s illness to force my hand every single time?” “I am not lying to you.” I closed my eyes, fighting back tears. “The doctor said his vitals are dropping. He needs the medication adjusted today.” “Enough,” Marcus interrupted. “You cannot keep holding me hostage with your father’s health. Yesterday it was the house, today it is the drugs. You would make up any lie just to make me back down.” Right then, Vanessa’s voice drifted through the receiver. “Marcus, the investors are here! Hurry up!” “I am coming,” Marcus called back. When he spoke to me again, his voice was freezing. “Vanessa’s pitch was a huge success today. I am celebrating with her. Do not ruin this for me. If you have finally come to your senses, come home tomorrow and apologize.” He hung up. I stared at the black screen, slowly sinking to the floor. Three years ago, during my dad’s first surgery, I knelt on the study carpet begging him. He had looked down at me with that same cold detachment, calling my family a black hole. That night, I took the small wooden jewelry box my mother had left me and ran to three different pawn shops. I sold every piece of gold my parents had given me for my wedding. I thought that would be the last time. But three years later, here I was again. “Family of Arthur Song?” a nurse called out from the end of the hallway. “Yes, I am here.” I scrambled to my feet and ran over. “The patient’s condition is deteriorating. The doctor needs to see you in his office immediately.” I followed her, my heart hammering against my ribs. The primary physician looked up from a stack of reports, his face grim. “Nora, your father’s situation is worse than we anticipated. The cancer cells are spreading. The current targeted therapy is no longer working. We need to move him to the ICU for close monitoring.” “How much?” My throat felt dry, like sand. “We will need an initial deposit of eight thousand dollars.” The doctor sighed gently. “You need to handle the paperwork quickly. We cannot afford to wait.” Eight thousand. I walked out of the office, staring at the harsh fluorescent lights. I had no savings left. Every month, my salary went straight into that joint account because Marcus insisted a married couple should have absolute financial transparency. I believed him. But the only one who had been transparent was me. He could lock me out of my own livelihood with a single click. I looked down at my left ring finger. It was a one-carat diamond ring Marcus had bought when he proposed. It had cost twelve thousand dollars back then. I walked out of the hospital, navigating the dark streets until I found a pawn shop that was still open. The owner examined the ring under a magnifying glass. “It is a standard cut. If you need quick cash, the most I can offer is three thousand five hundred.” “Okay.” “You sure you don’t want to talk to your husband first? This is a wedding ring.” “I do not have a husband anymore.” I signed the slip, took the cash, and tucked the receipt into the deepest pocket of my bag. I spent the rest of the night curled up on a hard plastic chair in the hospital waiting room. By morning, my dad’s vitals had stabilized slightly. The doctor told me we needed to prepare for his transfer to another wing and asked me to retrieve his previous medical files from home. I took a cab back to the apartment. The moment I pushed the door open, I froze. In the entryway, next to the shoe rack, sat a pair of high heels and a pink suitcase. Walking inside, I heard the hum of the espresso machine in the kitchen. Vanessa was wearing my gray loungewear, my linen apron tied around her waist, pouring milk into a mug. Hearing my footsteps, she turned. A flicker of surprise crossed her face. “Hi, Nora! You are back.” She walked out carrying two mugs, carrying herself like the mistress of the house. “Marcus said you stayed at a friend’s place last night. I did not think you would be back today.” I stared at the clothes she was wearing. I had just washed them and hung them in the closet last week. “Take them off.” “What?” Vanessa blinked. “The clothes, the apron. Take them off.” I walked toward her, my gaze falling on the mug in her hand. It was part of a couples’ set. Mine was already packed away, but she was holding Marcus’s. “Nora, please do not misunderstand.” Vanessa’s eyes pooled with tears. “I just got back to the city and have not found a place to rent yet. Marcus was worried about me staying in a sketchy hotel, so he offered to let me crash here for a few days. I accidentally spilled something on my own clothes, so I just borrowed these.” Marcus walked out of the master bedroom, wearing a bathrobe, his hair damp from the shower. Seeing me, his brow instantly furrowed. “What is wrong with you so early in the morning?” He stepped in front of Vanessa, shielding her. “She is only staying for a few days. Do you have to make such a scene?” “This is our marital home. You brought another woman to live here without even asking me?” “This is my house. My name is on the deed. I do not need your permission to decide who stays here.” Three years. I had dusted every corner of this apartment, picked out the curtains, and assembled the furniture. I thought we were building a home. But to him, it was always just his house. “Marcus, please don’t fight with Nora because of me.” Vanessa tugged at his sleeve, sniffing. “I can just go to a hotel. It is fine.” “You are not going anywhere.” Marcus caught her wrist, but his eyes remained locked on me. “The one who should leave is the one who refuses to be reasonable. Vanessa has to prepare for her upcoming roadshow. She needs a quiet place to work. Pack up your things in the small study and clear it out for her.” The study. It was the smallest, darkest bedroom in the apartment. During the renovation, because he wanted quiet, I gave him the master den. I took the tiny box room to work on my freelance design drafts to bring in extra cash for the household. I did not argue. I turned and walked into the small room. When I opened the door, I stopped. The room had been ransacked. My folders had been swept off the desk onto the floor. Among them were my father’s medical records and bills, scattered and bent. Vanessa’s laptop sat proudly in the center of my desk. “Oh, goodness.” Vanessa hovered behind me, looking apologetic. “I am so sorry, Nora. I was trying to clear some space on the desk and accidentally knocked over your scrap paper.” Scrap paper. I knelt, picking up the scattered medical files one by one. Every single sheet of paper represented my father’s fight for survival. “Nora, that is enough.” Marcus stood at the door, watching my back. “She did not do it on purpose. Who are you pulling that miserable face for?” I packed the files into my bag and stood up. Then I opened the desk drawer and pulled out my passport and birth certificate. “What are you doing with those?” Marcus demanded. “Handling business.” I zipped my bag and walked past him. At the entryway, I stopped. I reached into my bag and pulled out the house keys, which still had a small bear keychain attached. Marcus had given it to me on the day we moved in. I set the keys on the console table. “What is this supposed to mean?” “Exactly what it looks like.” I opened the front door. “This place is too crowded. I am making room for your guest.” I did not wait to see his reaction. I closed the door behind me. Just as I stepped out of the lobby, my phone buzzed. Your access to the authorized card ending in 3924 has been suspended by the primary account holder. He certainly moved fast. I shoved the phone into my pocket, hailed a cab, and rushed back to the hospital. The moment I reached the ICU waiting area, a nurse ran toward me. “Arthur’s family, thank God you are back. The patient took a sharp turn for the worse. We need to intubate immediately. Here are the critical condition notice and consent forms.” She shoved a clipboard into my hands. “Also, the ICU deposit has not been cleared. The billing office says the account is still showing a deficit.” My hand shook so violently I could barely hold the pen. “I… I will take care of it right now.” I signed my name, my tears blurring the ink on the page. The nurse gave a soft sigh and rushed back through the double doors. I walked to the stairwell, pulling out my phone. I scrolled through my contacts, but three years ago, I had already borrowed from every relative willing to speak to me. Now, they did not even pick up my calls. I clicked on Marcus’s profile. The last message from him had arrived ten minutes ago. Come back and we will talk when you have cooled down. Do not think playing missing will make me bend. I stared at the words for a long time, then hit delete and blocked his number. I was done begging him. Even if I hit rock bottom, I would never bow to him again. I pulled out the pawn receipt. The ring had brought in three thousand five hundred dollars. I had paid two thousand yesterday. I had fifteen hundred left. The ICU cost thousands a day. This would not even cover forty-eight hours. As despair threatened to crush me, a shadow fell over me. “Nora?” I looked up. A man in a lab coat was standing on the steps. It was Elliot, a senior from my university department and my father’s former physician. Two years ago, he had left the hospital to run a medical charity foundation. “Elliot,” I whispered, wiping the tears from my face. He looked at the unpaid bill in my hand, his brow furrowing. “Your dad is in trouble?” I nodded, my throat too tight to speak. Elliot did not ask any more questions. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. “Give me the bill.” “No, Elliot, I cannot…” “Give it to me.” He took the paper, scanned the barcode, and cleared the eight-thousand-dollar balance with a few taps. “Consider this a personal loan. Do not worry about paying me back right away. My foundation has a support program specifically for late-stage cancer patients. I will submit your father’s files this afternoon. We will get through this.” The tight coil of tension in my chest finally snapped. I sank to my knees, burying my face in my hands, sobbing. Elliot did not push me to stop. He simply stood beside me, quietly offering a tissue. Meanwhile, across the city. Marcus sat on his living room sofa, staring at the red exclamation mark on his screen. Message could not be delivered. He frowned, tossing the phone onto the coffee table. Vanessa walked over, holding a plate of sliced fruit. “Marcus, is she still not picking up?” “Do not worry about her.” Marcus rubbed his temples, his voice laced with irritation. “I have spoiled her too much. She will run out of money in a couple of days and come home on her own.” He stood up to grab some papers from the study. As he passed the entryway, his eyes caught a small wooden box tucked into the corner of the shoe console. It was the jewelry box Nora had brought with her when we married. She used to treasure it so much she barely let him touch it. Marcus walked over and lifted the lid. It was empty. The gold bracelets and earrings were gone. Only a small slip of paper lay at the bottom. He picked it up. It was a pawn ticket dated last night. Item: 1-carat diamond ring. Amount: $3,500. Marcus’s fingers stiffened instantly, his heart skipping a wild, uneasy beat.

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1 My family is traditional about these things. My mother insisted we needed the perfect day to get married. But we had consulted planners and family priests nine times, and Austin had rejected every single date. On the tenth try, Austin shook his head again. Looking at his handsome, indifferent face, I spoke up. “I think this date is perfect.” Austin was tapping away on his phone, scrolling through his group chat. He didn’t even look up. “This date won’t work. Serena and the guys just said they want to go to Hawaii that week. Tell your mom to pass.” My fingers curled into a tight, aching fist. His eyes remained glued to the screen, where the messages seemed to flow endlessly. “Austin,” I said softly. He gave a distracted grunt. “This is the tenth time,” I continued, my voice barely above a whisper. “Ten is supposed to mean completion. I don’t want to miss it. I am getting married on that day.” He finally spared me a glance, studying me for a few agonizing seconds before letting out a soft, dismissive chuckle. “I won’t even be in the country that day, Gwen. Who exactly are you going to marry?” “Look, stop being dramatic,” he added, turning back to his screen. “Just have your mom pick another date. Honestly, her timing is always terrible.” I let out a quiet laugh. Ten supposedly perfect days, and not a single one was good enough for him. I decided I wouldn’t make things difficult for him anymore. I looked down and texted my mother back: The date is perfect. Let’s book it. … “My mom spent months checking calendars, talking to family, and even praying at the cathedral to find these dates. I don’t see anything wrong with them. The only problem is that you and Serena always have an excuse.” Austin had a private group chat with three of his closest friends, two guys and two girls. Every single time a wedding date was proposed, Austin would post it in their chat. And like clockwork, that exact day would suddenly be filled with other plans: a Broadway show, a friendship anniversary, or a spontaneous road trip. That day was perfect for literally anything except a wedding. For two years, through ten different dates, all I got was Austin’s casual, “Let’s pick another one. Next time.” Seeing me put my phone down, Austin stood up from the sofa. As he passed by, he patted my head like a pleased owner rewarding a well-behaved pet. “Good girl.” I suddenly felt a burning need to ask. “Is it really that impossible for you to say no to them? Are their plans so incredibly important that you can’t carve out even a single day for us?” Austin didn’t care at first, so I asked again, twice. “What is wrong with you today?” The lazy indifference vanished from his face, replaced by a sharp sneer, as if I had crossed a sacred boundary. “My friendship with Serena and the group isn’t like those superficial social circles you keep. We actually get things done.” He let out a dry laugh. “Do you have any idea how many multi-million-dollar corporate partnerships we locked down during our last few trips? I am not stupid enough to throw away millions of dollars just to rush a wedding with you.” “My time is highly valuable. I am not going to sacrifice my career and my closest network for a single ceremony. Stop giving me grief.” “When have I ever given you grief?” My voice was so quiet it seemed to dissolve the moment the front door clicked open. Serena walked right in, using her own fingerprint to unlock the door. Austin had registered her print on our smart lock without my consent. I had told him how uncomfortable it made me, especially since there were times she had walked in on us being intimate. “Serena isn’t an outsider,” Austin had snapped back then. “Drop it.” Every time she came over, she acted like she owned the place. “Austin! The self-cleaning function on my hot tub is acting up again. You need to come take a look.” She gave me a brief nod, then grabbed Austin’s arm to drag him out. “Sorry for stealing your man, but I really can’t figure this out on my own.” There were so many things she “couldn’t figure out.” Working late and needing a ride, having insomnia and needing someone to talk to, facing minor inconveniences and needing immediate rescue. But Austin never considered her a burden. One night, Austin fell asleep, but his phone kept lighting up. Five years of dating, and I had never touched his phone. But tonight, the temptation was overwhelming. The group chat was mostly Serena talking, with the other three chiming in. Serena was sharing photos of clothes she wanted to bring to Hawaii. Austin had replied, selecting several outfits for her: “I have meetings all day tomorrow, so I will only be online sporadically. Go try these on and send photos. If they look good, I will cover the bill.” My palm throbbed from gripping the cold metal of his phone. When Austin was busy, I could go an entire day without receiving a single text from him. On the ninth time we tried to set a date, he had actually replied instantly during work hours with a single word: “Sure.” I had stared at that word, overjoyed. But right after I told my mother to book it, he changed his mind. “Never mind, that date doesn’t work.” I was left completely baffled, asking him repeatedly why. “Busy. Don’t waste my time,” he had muttered, hanging up after I called repeatedly. Yet, the busiest man in the world had all the time to curate Serena’s wardrobe. In the chat, Serena was celebrating. “Austin, I need to capture this exact aesthetic in Hawaii! You better practice your camera angles. If the photos turn out bad, you are dead to me.” Austin replied with easy warmth: “Yes, ma’am.” And on his home screen, my contact was set to Muted. Serena, Wyatt, Brooke, and Austin lived in the same apartment building, occupying adjacent floors. Serena had once casually remarked to me, “The four of us grew up together. We made a pact when we were kids that we would always live next to each other, meet up constantly, and travel together at least twice a year.” The refrigerator was covered in photos of the four of them in Aspen, Paris, and Rome. I had asked Austin if I could join them once. He had pinched my cheek. “Couples need their own space, Gwen. This is a trip just for the core childhood friends. If I bring a partner, it changes the whole dynamic.” Later, pointing to the snow in Aspen and the beaches in Amalfi: “Austin, I want to experience these places with you too.” He always said “next time” or “sometime.” When I pushed, he would get annoyed. “Gwen, stop nagging me about this. I am exhausted and don’t have the time. Besides, I have already been to those places. Going back is boring.” When I finally begged him into a trip, we took barely any photos. The ones he took of me were blurry or poorly framed. “Austin, can you put a little effort into this? They say a man who loves you will always capture your best angles.” Austin laughed. “Stop reading those ridiculous internet articles. I am just bad at taking photos. You are asking for too much. If you want a good picture, just ask a stranger.” But in the group chat, Wyatt and Brooke were teasing him. “Wait, aren’t all of Serena’s gorgeous travel photos taken by Austin?” “Our boy Austin never lets anyone else hold the camera for her.” “He spends at least thirty minutes per shot, changing angles eight times to get it perfect.” Serena had replied with a smug emoji. Austin claimed to be working overtime for several days and hadn’t come home. During lunch, a client treated my entire department to a meal. Coincidentally, Austin, Serena, Wyatt, and Brooke were sitting in the adjacent booth. At the head of their table sat an elderly woman they called Aunt Evelyn. Austin was sitting next to Serena, instructing the waiter to swap her iced drink for warm tea. “You are on your period. Why are you drinking cold things?” Aunt Evelyn beamed at them. “Look at you two. You have been together for so long, and the spark is still there. Back when you were dating, you two were the perfect couple.” My steps faltered. Wyatt chimed in, “You have no idea, Aunt Evelyn. I still have so much to learn from Austin. Brooke is always complaining that I am not as attentive or romantic as he is. But then again, only Austin has the patience to handle Serena’s temper.” Serena shook Austin’s arm playfully, and Austin smiled gently. “Who said that? Serena has a wonderful personality.” Aunt Evelyn placed Serena’s hand over Austin’s, patting them. “Promise me you two will hold onto each other. It would make me so happy to see you happy.” Austin nodded, his voice sincere and steady. “Don’t worry, Aunt Evelyn. We will.” The table erupted in cheers and playful teasing. Whenever I dined with them, the seat next to Austin was always silently reserved for Serena. “We have been doing this for years, Gwen. Don’t take it personally.” They talked about inside jokes I didn’t understand, leaving me smiling awkwardly on the sidelines. If Serena said, “I want fish, but I hate picking out the bones,” the other two would immediately say, “Let Austin do it for you.” If Austin went to the kitchen and I offered to help, Wyatt and Brooke would pull me back onto the couch. “No need to tire yourself out, Gwen. Serena’s got it covered.” I had asked Austin once, “Do your friends dislike me? It feels like they are constantly trying to show me that you and Serena are closer, pushing the two of you together while I sit there like a third wheel.” Austin dismissed it, kissing me to shut me up. “You are overthinking. You are still relatively new to them, so it is normal if they occasionally leave you out. Don’t be so petty.” He never told me that Serena was his ex-girlfriend. He never told me he was still playing the part of her boyfriend. As my team stood in the hallway, the waiter politely asked us to move. Austin’s group turned their heads, and our eyes locked. This time, I was the first to look away. “Let’s go,” I told my colleagues. As I walked out under the curious gazes of the onlookers, a sudden laugh escaped my lips. I was laughing at myself. “Aunt Evelyn practically raised us before she moved back to her hometown,” Austin said casually later. “She is moving to the US with her daughter soon, and we didn’t want to break her heart by telling her that Serena and I broke up a long time ago. I just wanted her to leave with a smile on her face.” I nodded. “Understood. Anything else?” Austin stopped, a relieved laugh escaping him. “No. You are actually being very mature today. I was worried you were going to throw a tantrum and cause a scene back there. Since you are being so good, is there anything you want? I will buy it for you.” I gripped the edges of the sink, staring at my exhausted reflection in the mirror. “I want to get married.” “I want to get married on the date my mother picked.” Austin’s smile vanished instantly, his lips pressing into a hard line. “Are we seriously doing this again?” “I never said we wouldn’t get married. We just need to pick a different date. Is it really that difficult?” “My grandmother is very sick,” I said quietly. “She might not make it to whatever ‘next time’ you have in mind. She wants to see me settle down before she passes.” Austin fell silent for a moment. “Tell your mom to pick a closer date. I promise I will agree this time.” I splashed cold water on my face, the chill cutting through my exhaustion. “Pick another date? Just so Serena can magically have another emergency? Or so Wyatt and Brooke can try to play matchmaker for you two again?” Austin exhaled a heavy, irritated breath. “After all this, you are still hung up on that? Why bother using your grandmother as an excuse if this is just about your jealousy? If you are so filial, go spend time at her bedside instead of taking your petty frustrations out on me.” His patience evaporated, his handsome features hardening into a cold mask. “If you want a wedding so badly, go ahead and plan it.” I pushed past him. “I will. I am already looking at venues and packages.” Austin grabbed my arm roughly, spinning me back to face him before shoving me away. I stumbled, barely catching my balance. “Fine!” he sneered. “Let us see who exactly you are going to marry.” “Gwen, you are twenty-eight, not eighteen. You are being completely irrational. Do you honestly think you can find anyone better than me?” “If you think you can threaten me with this nonsense to force my hand, you have another thing coming.” Within two days, I packed my things and moved out of our apartment. Austin leaned against the doorframe, a mocking smirk on his lips. “Where to?” I lifted my suitcase calmly. “Taking your advice. Going home to be with my family. And preparing for the wedding.” Austin’s eyes darkened, studying me as if trying to call my bluff. Finally, he let out a dry chuckle. “Fine. Just make sure to send me an invitation.” As I walked out of the place I had called home for years, I couldn’t stop myself from turning back. “Austin, what did I actually mean to you? Did you ever truly love me?” I used to believe he did. I remembered a time we were sitting together, and he had suddenly murmured, “Gwen, say my name.” The moment the first syllable left my lips, he had leaned in and kissed me before I could even blink. “You puckered your lips when you said it,” he had teased, his eyes bright with laughter. “I am going to assume that whenever you call my name from now on, you are asking for a kiss.” I had blushed and glared at him, but seeing the pure joy on his face, I couldn’t help but laugh along with him. I waited for his answer now, standing in the doorway. But even as I walked away, the silence remained unbroken. The venue was beautifully decorated, buzzing with the chatter of guests. My friend Becca was recording me with her phone, then with her camera, her eyes welling with tears. “Gwen, you look absolutely breathtaking today.” In the video, I was smiling, my eyes curved like crescent moons. The groom stepped forward, holding out his hand. I placed my hand in his, and he wrapped his fingers around mine, locking them together. The video cut off there. Austin sat in the airport terminal, feeling a strange, persistent restlessness gnawing at his chest. He scrolled aimlessly through his phone. Then, he saw the video Becca had posted. His throat went dry. His finger tapped the screen before his brain could even process what he was doing. In the background, people were cheering and wishing the couple a happy marriage. The camera slowly panned up to reveal the bride’s face. Austin sat bolt upright. He exited the app, opened it again, and replayed the video ten times, fifteen times. The face didn’t change. It was me, smiling warmly as I gazed into the eyes of another man, our hands tightly clasped. His hand shook, nearly dropping the phone. “The number you are trying to reach is currently unavailable…” He called again and again. Panicked confusion rapidly curdled into a sudden, inexplicable fury. He opened our chat and typed furiously. Gwen, who the hell is that? What is wrong with you? Did you actually hire an actor just to get back at me? He hit send. The loading circle spun for a moment, and then a red exclamation mark popped up. I had blocked him. The airport intercom began announcing the final boarding call for his flight. The panic and fury frozen on his face formed a twisted, almost comical expression. “Austin!” Serena’s voice cried out behind him in alarm. But Austin didn’t hear her. He turned and sprinted out of the terminal like a madman.

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1 My parents were obsessed with “absolute fairness.” They spent a small fortune customizing a wheelchair for me that was an exact replica of my older brother’s, pushing us out to the garden every day to bask in the sun. Passersby praised them, calling them saints for refusing to abandon their two disabled sons. My father would gently wipe the drool from the corner of my mouth, and my mother would slice apples, dividing them into mathematically equal halves. But no one knew how we got here. It happened three days after my brother was paralyzed from the neck down in a car crash. My father took a claw hammer and shattered my kneecaps. As I screamed in agony from the fracturing bone, my mother wept, holding me tight and whispering in my ear with the gentlest voice: “Mike, baby, don’t be afraid. Mommy is right here. Your brother is such a proud man. He cannot stand the thought of being wheelchair-bound while you can still run and jump. You are the younger brother. Sit in the wheelchair with him, okay? That way, he won’t feel like the universe is unfair to him.” And so, I never stood up again. Until the day the house caught fire, and the flames crept toward our wheelchairs. I watched my panicked parents desperately push my brother’s wheelchair, only for it to get wedged in the burning doorframe. And I, calmly, stood up from my seat. … “Kneel.” My father, Richard, held a heavy claw hammer, its cold steel gleaming under the harsh ceiling light. I looked at him, then at my brother, Dominic, who sat staring blankly from the couch. Three days ago, Dominic had wrapped his sports car around a tree while street racing. He was paralyzed from the neck down. “Dad, what are you saying?” “I said, kneel!” Losing his patience, Richard stepped forward and kicked the back of my knee. My legs gave out, and I crashed onto the cold tiles, a sharp pain shooting through my kneecaps. My mother, Helen, walked over. She knelt beside me, her eyes red and swollen. “Mike, your brother… he is never going to walk again.” “I know, Mom. I will take care of him.” “No, you don’t understand.” Helen shook her head, tears spilling down her cheeks. “Your brother is a proud man. He cannot accept being a helpless cripple while you get to walk around perfectly fine. It is simply not fair.” My heart plummeted. A dark, terrifying realization washed over me. Richard loomed over me like an executioner. “To keep things fair, you are going to sit in a wheelchair with him.” With those words, he raised the claw hammer high. I scrambled to crawl away, but Helen threw her arms around me from behind, pinning me down. “Mike, don’t blame us. We are doing this for the family, for your brother.” “No… please, stop!” Crack! The heavy steel head came down with a sickening thud, followed by the dry, splintering sound of bone. My vision went black. The scream died in my throat, turning into a desperate, bloody gasp for air. Richard raised the hammer again, lining it up with my right leg. “Stop! Dad! Please!” “Perfectly balanced,” he muttered. Crack! Another violent impact. The sensation in my right leg vanished instantly. I curled into a ball on the floor, cold sweat soaking through my shirt. Helen finally let go of me, cradling my face in her hands. “Mike, sweetheart, don’t be afraid. Mommy is right here. See? Now it is fair. Your brother won’t feel so miserable when he sees you are just like him.” The agony was so intense that every breath tasted like copper. I glared at them, the monsters who called themselves my parents, who had just crippled me in the name of love. They brought in a back-alley doctor who smelled heavily of cheap whiskey. He sloppily secured my legs with wooden splints and bandages. To ensure there was no paper trail, they didn’t even allow him to use anesthesia. “Grin and bear it,” the doctor muttered impatiently, pocketing a thick stack of cash from Richard. “The bones aren’t completely crushed. With some rest, they will heal.” “Remember, he just needs to ‘rest.’ Don’t let them actually heal,” Richard whispered, his voice low. The doctor let out a greasy chuckle. “Don’t worry, Mr. Mike’s father. I will make sure those legs never carry weight again.” After they left, I was abandoned on the cold floor. Summoning every ounce of my remaining strength, I slipped my phone from my pocket and dialed my aunt, Beatrice. She was my mother’s younger sister and had always doted on me. “Hello? Mike? Why are you calling so late?” “Aunt Beatrice… help me… Dad…” I sobbed, frantically explaining what had just happened. The other end of the line fell dead silent. Just as I thought the call had dropped, her voice returned, cold and disappointed. “Mike, why must you be so incredibly selfish? Your brother’s life is ruined. Can’t you show a little empathy for what your parents are going through?” “What?” “What is so terrible about sitting in a wheelchair to support your brother? You are his younger brother! Your family is going through a tragedy, and you are making things harder for your parents. Stop acting out and be a good boy.” Click. Click. Click. The line went dead. The last flicker of hope in my world was extinguished. 2 The next day, a brand-new, custom-ordered wheelchair was delivered to the house. It was a perfect match to Dominic’s, right down to the color of the leather cushion. My legs were encased in plaster, and Richard tossed me into the seat like a sack of garbage. From that moment on, my world was reduced to this metal frame. My parents pushed the two of us around the neighborhood park every afternoon, telling anyone who would listen about their family tragedy, but proudly declaring they would never abandon their boys. The neighbors marveled at them, calling them the most loving parents in the world. Richard would gently wipe the cold sweat from my brow, calling me a brave boy. Helen would slice an apple into two mathematically identical halves, ensuring Dominic and I received the exact same amount. They basked in the warmth of their self-righteous game, collecting praises like trophies. Dominic’s paralysis made him venomous. He couldn’t cope with his fall from grace, so he took all his rage out on me. “Mike, my cup is empty. Fetch me some water!” Gritting my teeth against the dull ache in my legs, I rolled my chair over to pour him water. But the temperature was slightly too warm. He instantly lashed out, throwing the scalding tea directly onto the back of my hand. “Are you an idiot? Are you trying to burn me to death?” My skin blistered instantly, throbbing with a fierce, angry heat. Hearing the commotion, Helen walked in. She saw my raw, red hand and Dominic’s furious face. “Mike, how can you be so careless? Your brother is fragile. He cannot have hot water. Don’t you know any better?” She took the cup, refilled it with lukewarm water, and handed it to Dominic, never once looking at my injury. Because my legs hadn’t healed properly, the rainy days brought an agonizing, deep-seated pain. The pain medication prescribed by the doctor became my only sanctuary. But before long, Helen confiscated all of my pills. “Mike, your brother is so weak. The doctor recommended high-protein supplements for him, and they are incredibly expensive. Be a good boy and bear with the pain so we can save that money for his nutrition, okay?” She used her gentlest, most reasonable tone to deliver the most ruthless sentence. I stared at her. “Mom, if I had been the one in the car crash, would you have broken Dominic’s legs?” Her face stiffened for a fraction of a second before returning to her mask of maternal martyrdom. “Don’t speak such nonsense. Both of you are my flesh and blood. Now, stop overthinking things.” She turned and walked away, never mentioning the pills again. Without the medication, I spent my nights twisting in agony, unable to sleep. Meanwhile, from the next room, I could hear Dominic shouting happily as he played video games. To accommodate Dominic’s physical therapy, they converted my bedroom into a gym and banished me to the damp, dark basement. There were no windows, and the air was thick with the scent of mold. Dominic’s cruelty escalated. He would intentionally ram his electric wheelchair into my food tray, laughing as I scrambled on the dirty floor to salvage my dinner. He used nail clippers to shred my remaining clothes, piece by piece. “Why does a cripple need nice clothes? You should wear rags just like me. That is what I call fair.” When I showed the shredded fabric to Helen, she only sighed. “Your brother is in so much pain, Mike. He didn’t mean it. Just tolerate it a little. It helps him vent.” “Tolerate it? Then who is going to tolerate my pain?” “Mike!” Helen’s voice turned sharp. “Do you have to be so incredibly selfish? Your brother has lost his legs! What more do you want from him?” Looking at her, a bitter laugh escaped my lips. In this house, Dominic’s suffering was a tragedy. Mine was just selfishness. 3 “What is this garbage? It tastes like cardboard! I want those artisanal cinnamon rolls from the trendy bakery downtown! Now!” During lunch, Dominic swept a plate of vegetables off the table. The sharp shatter of porcelain echoed through the quiet house. Helen immediately rushed to soothe him. “Of course, sweetheart. Don’t be angry. Mommy will go buy them for you right now.” “I want you both to go! Push me there!” Dominic demanded. “But what about Mike?” Richard hesitated, glancing at me where I sat shoved into the corner. “Who cares about that useless waste? It is not like he can run away,” Dominic sneered. “Lock him in the house. Starve him for a day, let us see if he still dares to talk back to Mom!” Helen and Richard exchanged a glance, and to my lack of surprise, they silently agreed. They locked the front door from the outside, leaving me trapped inside, as the three of them set off together, laughing and talking as their voices faded down the street. I slowly rolled my wheelchair over to the basement entrance. Once I was sure they were gone, the weakness on my face evaporated. I reached into a hidden compartment under my seat cushion and pulled out a small key, a duplicate key to the basement door I had secretly made using my hidden allowance months ago. I unlocked the door, rolled inside, and locked it behind me. Moving aside a heavy box of old clutter, I exposed a loose floor tile. Beneath it was a small metal box wrapped in waterproof plastic. Inside lay rows of foreign-labeled prescription bottles and a small, handheld muscle stimulator. This was my secret trade. That back-alley doctor had taken my father’s money, but he had also taken mine. I had offered him my entire life savings and a promise of ten years of secret service in exchange for a hidden mercy. He was a gambler, and he loved money more than anything. He had agreed to angle the hammer strikes to avoid the crucial nerves and joints, fracturing the bone but leaving the structure intact for recovery. These specialized medications and the therapy device were his “after-sales service.” The price was that I would pay off his gambling debts and act as his hidden assistant when needed. I rolled up my loose trousers, revealing my scarred, cast-free legs. The knees were still misshapen, but the swelling was completely gone. I applied the medicated cream around my joints and attached the electrode pads to my leg muscles. Turning on the switch, a low electrical current pulsed through my dormant muscles, sending waves of tingling, sharp pain through my legs. I grit my teeth, sweat pooling on my forehead. Ten minutes later, I turned off the machine, leaned against the wall, and placed my bare feet on the floor. The solid pressure of the ground felt both foreign and familiar. My legs trembled violently. Summoning every ounce of strength, I slowly shifted my weight from the wall onto my own feet. Sweat dripped from my chin. I stood up. Though I was shaking, though a tearing pain flared in my knees, I was standing on my own two feet. For the past ten months, every time they left the house, I used the time for physical therapy. I progressed from simple muscle activation to bending, and finally, to standing. I took a deep breath, bent my knees, and pushed back up, a perfect squat. I nearly fell, but I caught myself. My strength was returning, piece by piece. Suddenly, the rumble of a car engine echoed from the driveway. They were back. Earlier than expected. I immediately packed my gear, replaced the floor tile, rolled back to the living room, and adjusted my trousers, transforming back into the helpless cripple. Just as I positioned myself, the front door clicked open. Helen walked in carrying a bag of cinnamon rolls. Seeing me, she frowned. “Why are you out of your corner? Didn’t we tell you to stay put?” I kept my head down, silent. She didn’t press further, heading straight for Dominic’s room. But my eyes caught something on the floor where she had walked. A tiny brown glass bottle, one of my empty medication vials, lay glinting on the hardwood. I hadn’t seen it fall in my rush. Helen saw it too. She stopped, bent down, and picked it up. She brought it to her nose, sniffing the medicinal scent. Her face turned instantly dark. 4 “You betrayed me.” She threw the empty vial at my feet, the brown glass rolling across the floor. “What is this, Mike? Explain this to me right now!” Richard and Dominic rushed out at her shout. Dominic smirked from his wheelchair. “Oh, sneaking drugs, are we? What, don’t want to sit in a wheelchair with me anymore? Trying to stand up?” “I didn’t…” “How dare you lie to us!” Richard roared, kicking my wheelchair. The force flipped the chair, sending me crashing to the floor. My head slammed against the wood, and my legs twisted in agonizing angles. “We have sacrificed everything to keep this family fair, and you are sneaking around behind our backs!” Richard lunged, grabbing me by the hair and dragging me up. “Did you think we were being too soft on you?” Helen stood by, her maternal warmth entirely gone. “Mike, you have disappointed us so deeply. We treated you like family, and you only think of yourself.” “It was just… the pain was too much,” I gasped. “Pain? Does your brother not feel pain? He has lost his legs forever! Your little ache is nothing compared to his sacrifice!” Helen’s voice turned shrill. “You promised me! You said you would stay with him!” They no longer believed a word I said. Richard brought a heavy rope, binding me tightly to the wheelchair, my hands pinned behind my back so I couldn’t move a finger. “Let us see how you sneak drugs now! Let us see how you try to stand!” They pushed me into the corner of the dining room and starved me for two solid days. For two days, they ate lavish meals right in front of my face. Dominic had requested barbecue, and the smoky, savory scent of meat made my stomach twist in agony. He rolled his wheelchair over to me, holding a glistening piece of meat right in front of my mouth. “Want some? Beg me.” I closed my eyes and turned my face away. “Hah, look at his pride.” He laughed, popping the meat into his mouth and chewing loudly. “So delicious. Too bad a traitor like you only deserves to smell it.” Two days later, when I was lightheaded and weak, they finally untied me. I thought the punishment was over. I was wrong. It was only the beginning. They intercepted my university acceptance letter, a top-tier school that had been my dream for three years. Richard tore the letter to shreds right in front of me. “Why would a cripple need college? You will only be a burden to the school.” He pulled out his phone and transferred my entire college fund straight to Dominic’s account. “Dominic, your parents bought you the latest VR gaming pod! Now you can travel the virtual world from the comfort of home!” Helen stroked my head, her voice returning to its gentle, maternal tone as she delivered my final sentence. “Mike, you don’t need school anymore. You will stay home and take care of your brother. That is your duty now.” They wanted to strip away every shred of hope, turning me into a slave bound to Dominic forever. The VR pod arrived. Dominic became obsessed, spending sixteen hours a day inside the machine. I became his full-time servant, carrying his waste, cleaning his body during his brief breaks. He grew more abusive, striking me whenever something displeased him. Bound to my wheelchair, I couldn’t escape his blows. One day, while he was deep in a high-immersion horror game, I slipped into his system. I turned the pain-simulation parameter to the maximum and locked the emergency exit program. Soon, terrified screams and violent thrashing echoed from the pod. Ten minutes later, silence fell. When my parents returned and opened the hatch, a foul stench hit them. Dominic had lost control of his bowels, ruining the expensive interior. More importantly, his thrashing had severed the core circuitry, completely frying the machine. The manufacturer inspected the damage and refused a refund, citing “intentional damage and contamination,” and demanded ten thousand dollars in cleaning fees and depreciation penalties. My parents spent the last of their savings and dumped all their fury on me. “It is all your fault! You are a curse on this family!” Richard backhanded me, sending me to the floor. After the incident, Dominic became extremely unstable, throwing hysterical tantrums daily. One night, I heard my parents whispering in the living room. “We can’t go on like this. Dominic’s mind is breaking,” my mother said. “It is because of Mike’s legs. Seeing him with legs makes Dominic miserable. We shouldn’t have kept them intact,” Richard growled. “I bought something from the black market,” his voice dropped lower. “Let us finish the job. We will sever his Achilles tendons, make sure he is a real cripple. When Dominic sees him like that, he will feel better.” “Good. A family should share everything. That is the only way it is fair.” My mother actually agreed. Lying on the cold basement floor, a chill ran through my bones. I heard the stove lighting. I heard the rhythmic, scraping sound of a whetstone sharpening a blade. The basement door was locked tight from the outside with a heavy padlock. Footsteps began to descend the stairs. The scraping stopped. I listened to the approaching footsteps and slowly sat up. I unbuckled the heavy sandbags strapped to my calves, letting them thud heavily onto the concrete. I stood up.

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1 “I’m sorry. My ex came back for me. We’re not getting married today.” The call ended. And I became the joke of the entire city hall marriage office. The clerk behind the counter couldn’t stand it anymore. She pointed at a girl sitting nearby, just as dazed as I was. “Look at her. Her fiancé ran off with a rich older woman. You two are both stranded in the same storm. Might as well pair up.” The girl looked at me for ten seconds. Then she stood, walked over, and asked, “Want to get married? I brought all my documents.” I nodded. “Yes.” Ten minutes later, I had a wife. The cold glass doors of city hall reflected my numb face. The marriage certificate in my hand felt like a piece of burning metal. The woman beside me was Sophie Whitmore, my new wife. One hour ago, we had been complete strangers. The air between us was frozen solid, awkward enough to cut with a knife. People came and went around us. Their whispers were like tiny needles pricking my skin. I could feel their stares. Pitying, mocking, entertained. The second time. This was the second time Rachel Quinn had turned me into an utter fool at the door of city hall with one phone call. Something inside my chest had gone hollow. I could not even feel pain anymore. “Let’s get something to eat,” I said. My voice was dry, like sandpaper scraping wood. Sophie looked up. Her eyes were very clear, though right now they were covered in the same gray, defeated fog. She gave a soft “okay.” We walked into the nearest restaurant and sat across from each other. Silence rose between us like a wall. The server’s menu finally broke the dead air. I ordered two dishes at random. “I’m Daniel Hart,” I introduced myself again, as if saying it one more time might make this absurd day feel real. “Sophie Whitmore,” she said quietly. The food arrived. Neither of us moved our forks. “My fiancé and I were together five years,” Sophie spoke first, her gaze resting on the cup in front of her. “He chose a woman who could save him twenty years of hard work.” Her voice was very calm. No crying. No hysteria. She was only stating a fact. That kind of calm was more suffocating than sobbing. I understood it. The greatest grief is when the heart has already died. “My girlfriend, Rachel,” I continued, following her lead. “This is the second time she backed out on the day we were supposed to get married. Both times because of her ex.” After saying it, I found it ridiculous myself. I tugged at the corner of my mouth, but I could not smile. One left for money. One left for old love. The two of us were the brightest disasters in city hall that day. “What are you planning to do next?” I asked her. She shook her head. Her eyes were full of confusion. “I don’t know. The apartment belonged to him. I have nowhere to go.” “I have a two-bedroom place.” The words left my mouth before I could think. As soon as I said it, we both froze. The air turned strange again. “I mean,” I hurried to explain, feeling my face heat up, “we could temporarily… share the place.” The word share sounded painfully ironic when paired with the marriage certificate in my hand. “Think of it as a buffer period for both of us,” I added. “Don’t worry. I won’t… I’ll sleep in the smaller room.” Sophie looked at me. There seemed to be a faint light in those clear eyes. She was silent for a long time. Long enough that I thought she would refuse. “Okay,” she finally said. The meal tasted like nothing. I took her back to my apartment. The mortgage was not paid off yet, but it was the only root I had in this city. The place was small, but I kept it clean. She stood in the living room and looked around. Her tense shoulders seemed to relax a little. “You can take the main bedroom,” I said, pushing her suitcase in. “It has the balcony and better light.” “Thank you,” she said softly. Between us, other than thank you, there seemed to be nothing else to say. Late that night, I lay on the cold bed in the smaller room, staring at the ceiling. Everything felt like an absurd dream. My phone vibrated. A message from Rachel. 【Don’t be mad. Once I handle things here, I’ll come back to you. Wait for me.】 Her tone was so natural. So entitled. Like she was granting me some kind of favor. She did not even think she needed to explain. What did she think I was? A recycling station that would always stand in place, waiting for her to summon me or throw me away? A wave of nausea rolled up from my stomach. I stared at that line of text, my finger hovering over the screen. Countless fights and reconciliations flashed through my mind. All those humble compromises. All those excuses I made to deceive myself. Now they looked like one slap after another across my face. I did not reply. Calmly, one by one, I deleted every way to contact her. Messaging app, phone number, everything. When I finished, it felt as if the huge stone pressing on my chest had finally cracked. 2 The next morning, I was woken by the smell of food. I walked out of the smaller bedroom and saw Sophie in the kitchen, wearing one of my oversized T-shirts. Morning light spilled through the window and fell over her, giving her an unreal kind of beauty. On the table were two neat breakfasts. Millet porridge and fried eggs. Golden eggs, green scallions, steaming hot. “You’re awake?” She turned back and smiled. “I didn’t know what you liked, so I made something simple.” I had lived on takeout for years. Breakfast was usually a bun grabbed on the way to work. A breakfast this warm and ordinary felt almost luxurious. “Thank you,” I said, sitting down. The porridge was fragrant and soft. One mouthful sent warmth spreading from my stomach through my limbs. The icy feeling from yesterday, that sense that the whole world had abandoned me, seemed to be chased away by this bowl of porridge. “You’re a great cook,” I said sincerely. “I used to cook often,” she said lightly. I could imagine that used to had been for someone else. By silent agreement, neither of us mentioned yesterday again. After breakfast, I got ready for work. “This is the spare key.” I placed a set of keys on the entryway cabinet. “Stay here without worrying. Don’t rush about work either. Take your time.” She nodded and took the keys. “Okay.” As I changed shoes, she suddenly said, “I’m… unemployed for now. I might pay rent late.” “No need,” I interrupted. “Think of it as a roommate welcome benefit.” I closed the door, still feeling her gaze on my back. When I arrived at the office, the atmosphere was strange. Several coworkers were gathered together. The moment they saw me, they scattered, but the expressions on their faces gave them away. They wanted to laugh, but didn’t dare. My childhood friend and coworker, Mark Lewis, pulled me aside. “Dan, are you okay?” he asked carefully. “I’m fine.” “Rachel went way too far. This is the second time. How could she do that?” Mark looked furious for me. “It’s over.” My calm surprised him. “No way. You’re just letting it go? Everyone at city hall was talking. They said some guy got stood up twice.” My fist tightened quietly at my side. Yes. I had become a joke. A joke everyone knew about. “I got married,” I said. Mark’s jaw nearly hit the floor. “What? To who? Don’t tell me you lost your mind.” “To a girl who also got stood up.” I did not say more. I turned and went back to my desk. All day, I felt countless gazes studying my back. I buried myself in work and pressed every emotion down. That evening, I dragged my exhausted body home. The moment I opened the door, I froze. A warm orange light glowed inside. The smell of dinner floated through the air. Sophie walked out of the kitchen in an apron, holding a spatula. “You’re back? Dinner’s almost ready.” I looked at her. Then at the home she had made neat, warm, and full of life. Some hard corner inside me suddenly softened. Dinner was generous. With the few ingredients in my fridge, she somehow made three dishes and a soup. “Did you empty my whole fridge?” I joked. She smiled, her eyes curving. “Your fridge had almost nothing in it to begin with.” For the first time, we sat together like real family and talked. Work, movies, little unimportant things. The atmosphere was easy. After dinner, I washed the dishes. She dried them beside me. “I used to be a financial analyst,” she said suddenly. I was surprised. “I saw some trading software on your computer,” she pointed toward the study. “If you don’t mind, I can take a look for you.” I certainly did not mind. I was even a little expectant. I brought out my laptop. She sat down and began typing. The way she focused was completely different from how she looked while cooking. Calm, professional, with a certain sense of control. I began to feel that my flash-marriage wife might not be simple at all. 3 The peace lasted only two days. At noon on the third day, Rachel called me. It was an unknown number. I did not want to answer, but it rang again and again. “Daniel Hart!” As soon as the call connected, Rachel’s sharp voice pierced through. “What do you mean? You blocked me?” Her tone was full of accusation and disbelief. “We’ve broken up,” I said calmly. “Broken up? Did I agree to that? I told you to wait for me.” She sounded as if she had heard the world’s funniest joke. “How dare you block me?” That righteous selfishness made the whole thing feel absurd. “Rachel, I got married.” I decided to end this cleanly. The other side fell silent. A few seconds later came a shriek even sharper than before. “You’re lying. You’re saying that just to make me mad, aren’t you? Daniel, look at you, growing a spine. You’re making up this kind of lie just to force me back?” “I’m not lying.” “Fine. Very fine.” She was furious. “You wait.” She hung up hard. I held the phone, irritated in a way I could not describe. I had thought deleting her contacts would be the end. Clearly, for someone like Rachel, nothing was over until she said it was. I did not tell Sophie. This was my past. I did not want to drag her into it. But trouble always arrives uninvited. That evening, I had just reached the entrance of my building when I saw a familiar figure. Rachel stood by the door in designer clothes and delicate makeup, looking arrogant and untouchable. She saw me too and immediately strode over in her heels. “Daniel. You really dare lie to me? Where is that woman?” She crossed her arms like a victorious rooster. “That’s my business. It has nothing to do with you.” I frowned and tried to walk around her. She grabbed my arm, her nails nearly digging into my skin. “Nothing to do with me? Let me tell you, as long as I haven’t agreed, you don’t get to get rid of me in this lifetime. “You’re my dog, Daniel. You come when I call and leave when I’m done with you.” Her words were vicious and cruel. Neighbors had already started peeking out to watch. My expression darkened completely. Just as I was about to force her hand away, the building door opened. Sophie came out holding a bag of trash. She wore simple white loungewear, her hair casually tied up, no makeup on her face. Yet she looked a hundred times more comfortable to the eye than Rachel in full glam. When Sophie saw us, she paused. Rachel’s gaze scanned her from head to toe like an X-ray. Her eyes were full of disdain and contempt. “Oh, so this is the replacement you found?” Rachel’s voice dripped with mockery. “Daniel, when did your standards get this low? You’ll take this kind of woman too?” Her words splashed toward Sophie like dirty water. Anger surged inside me, and I was about to speak. But Sophie moved first. She tossed the trash into the nearby bin, then slowly walked over. She looked at Rachel with eyes as calm as a deep pool. Not the slightest ripple. “A replacement,” she said, her voice not loud but every word clear, “who is already the legal Mrs. Hart.” She paused. “And you, Miss Ex-Girlfriend. How may I help you?” The arrogance on Rachel’s face froze instantly. She clearly had not expected this quiet-looking woman to speak with such precision. Her mouth opened, but no words came out. Her heavily made-up face turned an ugly red. I stood beside Sophie and looked at her slender but straight back. For the first time, someone had stood in front of me like this. Shielding me from all the ugliness. My heart slammed hard in my chest. 4 “You…” Rachel finally found her voice. She shook with rage. “What do you think you are? Do you know how much Daniel loves me? Do you know how many times he proposed to me? You’re just a tool he’s using to make me jealous.” She began saying anything she could, trying to use the past to hurt us. Sophie did not even look at her. Instead, she turned her gaze to me, as if asking a question. At that moment, I made my choice. I stepped forward and stood firmly in front of Sophie, shielding her completely behind me. I looked straight at Rachel’s twisted face. “We have nothing to do with each other anymore,” I said clearly, word by word. “Please do not disturb my wife again.” My wife. When those two words left my mouth, even I felt dazed. Behind me, Sophie seemed to move slightly. At some point, my hand had closed tightly around her wrist. Her hand was cold, but soft. “Daniel!” Rachel completely broke down. She lunged at me like a madwoman, pounding my chest. “You liar. You bastard. Didn’t you say you’d only love me in this lifetime? Were all your words lies?” Her tantrum only looked ugly and ridiculous now. I did not waste more words. I caught her wrists and pushed her out of the building entrance. “Security,” I called toward the guard booth. Rachel’s curses were cut off by the closing door. The world finally went quiet. I turned and looked at Sophie. “I’m sorry,” I said lowly. “I dragged you into this too.” Sophie shook her head. She looked up at me, and there was actually a smile in her eyes. “You did well just now.” She freed her wrist and turned toward the elevator. Her warmth remained in my palm. That night, the atmosphere between us shifted in some subtle way. We were no longer only roommates. There was something else now, something neither of us could quite name. Later that night, Sophie sat at the computer as usual. “You can sell those stocks you bought after the market opens tomorrow,” she said without turning. “Why? Aren’t they doing well?” I was confused. “The short-term peak is here. Greed loses money.” Her tone allowed no argument. I was doubtful, but I chose to trust her. After all, the professional confidence she carried was very convincing. The next morning, I checked the market during work. The stocks I had sold briefly climbed after opening, then crashed all the way down. The red numbers made my heart race. If I had waited half an hour, I would have been trapped. Cold sweat broke out on my back. This could no longer be explained by simply “knowing a little financial analysis.” This was precise prediction. Who exactly was my flash-marriage wife? That thought took root in my mind like a seed and began growing wildly. I started to realize that the woman I had casually brought home might not be a gentle white rabbit. She might be a beast in rabbit skin, one I could not see through at all.

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1 On my first day at the design firm, I wasn’t handed a stylus or a notebook. I was handed a plastic specimen cup. “Company policy,” Maggie said, pushing the cup across the desk. Her voice dripped with casual arrogance. “Pee in the cup. Once we verify you’re not pregnant, we’ll sign the contract.” I gripped my offer letter so hard my knuckles turned white. “I made it very clear during my interview that I have no plans to start a family, and I am definitely not pregnant.” Maggie scoffed, her eyes scanning my resume with blatant contempt. “Vivian Summers, right? You have a boyfriend.” “Everyone talks a big game. Girls your age love to brag about being child-free, only to turn around, get hitched, and go on maternity leave three months later.” I remained silent. “See? Silence means consent.” “As long as there’s a man in your life, whether you get pregnant isn’t entirely up to you.” “What if you walk in and immediately take paid leave? The company takes a massive financial hit just to keep you on the payroll. Can you personally cover that loss?” “You’re doing the test today. No exceptions.” With that, she reached out and snatched at the fabric of my long skirt. In that exact moment, I realized something. I didn’t want to use my digital pen to sketch designs anymore. I wanted to use a real pen to stab some people. … To end this ridiculous circus as quickly as possible, I pulled out my phone and opened my period tracker. “My period ended just the day before yesterday. This should be proof enough.” Maggie snatched the phone straight out of my hand, squinting at the screen. She didn’t just check the dates; she deliberately swiped through my private calendar, pointing a manicured finger at the heart icons. “Well, well! Look at all these intimate little dates. You busy girls sure have active social lives.” “You quiet ones are always the wildest. This is a massive liability. We are testing you, period.” Seeing that I wasn’t backing down, she tried a softer approach, though her tone remained slimy. “Look, if you really don’t want to do it, just show me a medical certificate proving your boyfriend is infertile.” “Otherwise, get to the bathroom.” I let out a harsh, dry laugh. My father had been breathing down my neck for months, begging me to come back and run the family conglomerate, the Summers Group. I had refused. I wanted to prove to him that I could survive and thrive in the real world without the family fortune. We had a deal: if I couldn’t make a name for myself as a designer within a year, I’d pack my bags and head back to the corporate throne. But the old man was right about one thing. The world outside was much dirtier than I had imagined. At that moment, I wanted nothing more than to dump that plastic cup right over her head. But I held back. Being a designer was my dream, and this agency was one of the top firms in the industry. “Fine,” I spat, grabbing the cup. “I’ll do it.” I turned toward the restroom, but Maggie followed me like a cheap shadow, sticking to me all the way into the stall. She blocked the door with her arm before I could lock it. “Oh, don’t be shy, Vivian,” she smirked. “Last month, a headhunter sent over a girl who snuck in someone else’s urine sample in her sock. It got flagged, and the director chewed me out for thirty minutes.” “Just pretend I’m not here. Pull down your pants and get on with it.” The restroom door opened directly onto the main hallway. People were walking back and forth, their footsteps echoing clearly. Every few seconds, some male colleagues strolled past, heading toward the balcony for a smoke. “Maggie, this is completely inappropriate. I have a basic right to privacy.” “Privacy? Once you sign that contract, you belong to the company. Privacy is for the executives.” She raised her voice, deliberately shouting out toward the hallway. “Hey, guys! Clear out of the hallway! The new girl, Vivian, needs to use the bathroom! Stop hanging around!” “She’s no innocent virgin anyway, but that doesn’t mean you get a free show!” A wave of muffled laughter drifted in from the corridor. Standing in that cramped, sterile stall, a wave of pure humiliation washed over me. “I’m done. I’m leaving.” I turned to walk out, but Maggie grabbed my arm with surprising strength. Her other hand reached out, lifting the hem of my dress. She stared at my stomach with a cold, assessing gaze, like a butcher inspecting a slab of meat at a slaughterhouse. “Well, your waist is thin enough, Vivian. Doesn’t look like you’re showing.” “But girls these days are clever. Without that test, I can’t sleep easy.” Just then, a male colleague strolled by the half-open door. He stopped, staring right through the gap, his lips curling into a sickening, greasy grin. “You’re doing great, Maggie. This company needs a tough woman like you to keep things in check.” “The HR team is usually too scared of lawsuits to do their jobs, letting all these freeloaders slide in. You’re the one holding this place together.” 2 Flattered by the praise, Maggie raised her voice even louder. “You can never be too careful these days. Even the ones from Ivy League schools have the same shady tricks. I have to be strict.” “Anyone who’s looked for a job lately knows how brutal the market is. If a company takes you in, you should be on your knees thanking them.” “Isn’t that right, Vivian?” I took a slow, deep breath, staring up at the stained ceiling tiles. In that split second, I decided I was done playing by their rules. I was just about to shove her out of the way when my eyes flicked down. I noticed a slight, barely perceptible curve in her lower abdomen. A sudden realization hit me. I let out a long breath, forcing myself to look submissive as I lowered my head to hide the fury in my eyes. Using the sink basin to block her view while she was busy flirting and gloating with the guy in the hallway, I quickly scooped a small amount of water from the toilet bowl with the plastic cup. I spun around, handing the lukewarm, cloudy liquid to her. “Are we done now?” Maggie took it with a satisfied smirk, holding it like a hard-won trophy. The moment she walked away, I pulled out my phone and dialed the one number I never wanted to call. “Dad, that boutique design firm you were planning to acquire… how are the negotiations going?” There was a brief pause, followed by a surprised chuckle on the other end. “Well, well. Had a change of heart?” “I want you to sign the acquisition papers immediately. On one condition.” “I want to be appointed as the head of Human Resources.” “Right now. Today.” The old man laughed, a sound full of sharp, corporate calculation. “What happened to our one-year wager?” “Nothing. I just realized that instead of drawing pretty pictures, I’d rather use a pen to sign some pink slips.” When I got back to my desk, Maggie had already put on a different mask. She patted my shoulder with maternal condescension. “Vivian, don’t take it personally. I was just looking out for the company. It’s nothing against you.” “People have too many tricks up their sleeves these days. You have to understand our position.” I brushed her hand off my shoulder and sat up straight. “You sure love throwing your weight around, Maggie. Must feel great to have a little power.” Her smile vanished. “What did you say?” “We run the same check on candidates with master’s degrees and PhDs. Who do you think you are with just an undergraduate degree?” I looked her dead in the eye, my voice ice-cold. “You love talking about credentials. What about yours?” “Everyone who works here graduated from a top-tier university.” “They say people overcompensate for what they lack. Tell me… did you even graduate from high school?” The moment my dad acquired the company, I had accessed the internal database. Her educational background listed elementary school as her highest completed level. She had zero credentials and even less actual talent; she had clearly climbed her way up through nepotism and office politics. “You’re pushing your luck, Vivian!” Maggie hissed, leaning down until her breath brushed my ear. “Let me tell you something. If this test comes back positive, I won’t just fire you. I’ll blacklist you across the entire industry. I’ll make sure you never work as a designer again.” “This is a minefield, and you just stepped right on it.” I tilted my head, studying her face. “Does this policy apply to everyone in the company? Equally?” “Of course! If anyone tries to pull a fast one, I’ll be the first to kick them out the door!” “Thanks. Good to know.” I let out a genuine smile for the first time since walking into the building. Ten minutes later, the test results were ready. Maggie came bursting out of the office, waving a white plastic test strip like a flag of war. She looked like she had just caught a high-profile fugitive, screaming before she even reached my desk. “Vivian Summers! What do you have to say for yourself now?” She slammed the lab report onto my desk. “Positive! You’re pregnant!” She marched right into the center of the open-plan office, raising her voice for the entire floor to hear. “Everyone, look at this! Vivian Summers, is this what you call ‘passion for design’?” She slapped the paper repeatedly, her voice screeching through the room. “Sneaking in here on your first day with a bun in the oven just to scam us for paid maternity leave! You are an absolute embarrassment to professional women everywhere!” 3 Several of Maggie’s sycophants immediately joined the chorus. “No wonder she took so long in the stall. She was terrified of getting caught.” “Thank goodness Maggie has eyes like a hawk. Otherwise, we’d be doing her share of the work while catering to a pregnant princess. How pathetic.” I took a step back, biting my lower lip, letting my shoulders tremble slightly. “Maggie, are you absolutely sure that’s my test result?” Thinking she had completely broken me, Maggie sneered, leaning in so close her spit nearly hit my face. “It’s right here in black and white! I watched you fill the cup myself. You can’t wiggle your way out of this.” “Pack your things and get out of our office. Your contract is null and void!” She reached out to shove me toward the door. I slipped past her touch effortlessly and picked up the paper. With a gentle flick of my fingernail, the small adhesive label over the name at the top left of the report peeled away. Underneath, the printed name read: Margaret Potts. I stared at it, briefly stunned. When the company health records were being processed, I had immediately swapped my name label onto Maggie’s physical report. I wanted her to think the positive result belonged to me. Only by exposing her pregnancy in front of the entire office could I completely uproot this toxic weed. But why was my name still visible on the database screen she had printed? Did I accidentally grab the wrong paper earlier? Does that mean… I actually was pregnant? My heart skipped a beat. Two weeks ago was my anniversary with my boyfriend, Noah. That night had gotten a bit wild, and though we took precautions afterward, my body had been acting strange lately. I had been exhausted, falling asleep at odd hours. Every morning, a wave of nausea hit me, leaving a bitter taste in my mouth. And my period had been a week late, showing up only as a light, brief spotting. If that spotting was actually implantation bleeding… Forget about saving my job. Deciding whether or not to marry Noah would become an immediate crisis. My dad had always been dead-set against my relationship with a self-made guy like Noah. Maggie noticed the brief flash of panic in my eyes, and her grin widened. “What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue? You were so smug a minute ago.” “Well, Miss Big-Shot Designer, got nothing else to say?” “Get your things and get out of my sight.” Just then, I caught sight of Vice President Davis standing by his office door, a smug smile playing on his lips. In an instant, everything clicked. I knew I hadn’t made a mistake. I quickly opened the company’s internal portal on my phone and pulled up the official digital medical records. The system database clearly showed that my test was negative. The positive test belonged to Maggie. Paper reports could be altered with cheap stickers, but the secure company database couldn’t be manipulated so easily. No evidence was more ironclad than the digital ledger. I turned the screen around, displaying the records for the entire room to see. Maggie’s face froze, the smugness instantly draining away, leaving her pale and hollow. “Maggie, when you were cornering me in that stall, I noticed the slight curve of your stomach.” “I wasn’t sure at first.” “But when you instinctively cradled your lower abdomen during our argument, I knew my hunch was right.” Maggie’s face flushed a deep crimson before turning a sickly, ash-gray. “You… what kind of lies are you spreading?!” “How did you even get access to the company’s secure network?” “This is fake! It has to be fake!” I tapped my phone screen, showing the official corporate announcement that had just landed in every employee’s inbox. “Actually, as of ten minutes ago, I am the new HR Director.” “Reviewing employee records is well within my job description.” I stepped closer, lowering my voice so only she could hear. “And didn’t you just say that anyone who gets pregnant should be fired immediately?” She let out a desperate, screeching laugh, her voice cracking under the pressure. “You? An HR Director? You’re a junior designer! Have you lost your mind?!” Right then, heavy, hurried footsteps echoed down the hallway. The actual executive board members marched in. Holding the official acquisition papers, they bypassed Maggie entirely and walked straight to my desk, bowing slightly. “Director Summers, the transition is complete.” Maggie collapsed back into her chair, her eyes glazed with shock. I opened my tablet, displaying her original file for everyone to see. “Now, let’s see just how much fiction is in your resume, Margaret Potts.”

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1 Three days after my miscarriage, I returned to the office despite the pain. Eric had insisted I rest, promising to oversee our new multimillion-dollar contract himself. Still, a gnawing unease wouldn’t leave me. I pushed open my office door. Eric’s cousin, Kayla—fresh from dropping out of vocational school—was lounging in my executive chair, using my ten-thousand-dollar tea set to mix powdered milk tea. She was lecturing my department manager. “This project is mine now. You employees better behave,” she declared. Newly signed outsourcing contracts littered the table, stamped with my company seal. Eric spotted me but didn’t flinch. He stepped in front of Kayla, frowning. “Why aren’t you resting? Kayla needs a starting point. You’re the boss anyway—what’s wrong with her being project director for a while? We can have another child. Don’t damage family harmony.” I looked at his self-righteous face. Strangely, I didn’t even feel like slapping him. “You’re right. We’re family.” I walked over and placed the highest-authority company seal in Kayla’s hand. “The director position is yours. Tomorrow, you’ll sign the thirty-million-dollar performance agreement yourself.” Eric and Kayla both froze. Clearly, they had prepared a stomach full of arguments. Eric had even arranged his frown in advance, waiting for me to make a scene so he could accuse me of being unreasonable. Kayla held the seal, and her eyes instantly lit up. Although she had dropped out of vocational school, even she knew that with this thing in hand, she could walk sideways through the company. “Natalie, you gave this to me willingly, right? My cousin said this is called… what was it? Oh, right. Promoting talent without avoiding relatives.” Kayla lifted her chin, sat back down in my chair, and even spun around twice. “Then you should hurry home and rest. Women need to keep warm after a miscarriage. Don’t bring bad luck into the office and ruin the fortune of our big project.” Bad luck. I had just lost our child on the operating table, and now, in his cousin’s mouth, I had become a woman carrying bad luck. How ridiculous. This was the “honest family” I had supported through countless sleepless nights. Eric heard it and not only failed to stop her, he even walked over and patted my shoulder. “Kayla speaks bluntly. Don’t take it to heart. She’s worried about your health too.” He put on a loving expression, as if he had not been smug and self-righteous moments ago. “I’ll keep an eye on the big contract myself. Kayla is just holding the title for experience.” “All right, hurry home and lie down. I ordered you some chicken soup. Remember to pick it up when it arrives.” A bowl of takeout chicken soup worth a few dozen dollars. In exchange for a core project with nearly ten million in net profit. Eric’s calculation was so loud it could probably be heard from the moon. Just then, a heavy cramp twisted through my lower abdomen, as if a hand were stirring inside me. I endured the pain and looked at him coldly. “Fine. Since it’s Kayla’s project now, from tomorrow on, she signs every document related to Pinnacle. Don’t overstep your authority.” After saying that, I turned and began packing the personal items from my desk. Kayla immediately watched me like a thief. “Natalie, don’t take company property.” I ignored her and picked up a client contact list from my drawer. Just then, my right-hand man and deputy project manager, Martin, rushed in with several reports. “Ms. Grant, this outsourcing contract can’t be signed like this.” “If we use these inferior materials, Pinnacle Group’s quality inspection will never pass. If we breach the contract…” Before Martin could finish, Kayla cut him off. “Why are you yelling? I’m the project director now.” Kayla slammed the desk, sweeping my designer bag onto the floor. “That supplier was introduced by my uncle. Their price is half the market rate. That’s called controlling costs for the company. What does an employee like you know?” Martin’s face went pale with anger. He turned to me. “Ms. Grant, this is the order you spent half a year securing. The agreement states clearly that if there’s a quality issue, we pay triple damages. They’re destroying the company.” Eric immediately put on the posture of a boss and scolded Martin. “Martin, you’ve been with the company for years. How do you still not understand obedience? Ms. Grant needs rest. From now on, I make the decisions here. If you can’t do the job, go to finance and settle your salary.” Martin looked at Eric in disbelief, then at me. For five years, Eric had been the “nice guy” who never managed anything in the company, collecting dividends under the title of “Ms. Grant’s boyfriend.” This was the first time he had seized power in public. I took a deep breath and suppressed the stabbing pain in my abdomen. “Martin.” “Do what Mr. Bell and Director Bell say. Hand over your work.” 2 Martin’s eyes widened. He looked at me as if I were a stranger. I said nothing more. He shook his head, sighed, slammed the reports on the desk, and turned to leave. Kayla laughed smugly. “Natalie is still sensible. Oh, and that genuine leather back cushion of yours, I want it too. It won’t do you any good at home, so leave it here.” “Fine. Keep it.” Holding a small paper box, I did not look at the two cousins again. I walked straight out of my company. The moment the door closed, I heard Kayla laughing inside. “Eric, look at her. She really thinks she’s some strong career woman. But you still have her wrapped around your finger.” “Now our family is going to be rich. A thirty-million-dollar deal. My uncle’s kickback alone will be this much.” Eric lowered his voice and scolded her with a laugh. “Enough. Keep it down. Once this money comes in, I’ll buy you an apartment in the city.” Standing by the elevator, I looked at my reflection in the glass doors and smiled. Wrapped around your finger? Eric, you probably don’t know that Pinnacle Group’s project was never some gift from heaven. It was a life-or-death contract I deliberately signed to prepare the company for going public. Our cash flow was already tight, and Pinnacle’s requirements for materials and deadlines were almost insane. If even one link went wrong, the settlement clause in the performance agreement would trigger immediately. Originally, I planned to mortgage a villa under my own name and personally supervise every detail, risking everything to earn that money. But since you and your cousin want this “chance to get rich” so badly, and since you’re bold enough to take kickbacks and use defective materials, then I’ll generously hand it to you. Outside the office building, the sunlight made me dizzy. I sat in my car, pulled out the contact list, and dialed the private number of Pinnacle Group’s executive president. The call connected after three rings. I put away my weakness and said coldly, “Mr. Whitaker, it’s Natalie Grant.” “The person coming to your company tomorrow to sign the thirty-million-dollar performance agreement will be our new project director, Kayla Bell.” “Also, I have some internal information about the material supplier for this project. I think you’ll be very interested.” The other end was silent for two seconds. Then he laughed. “Ms. Grant, this is your company’s performance agreement. If the materials go wrong, not only is the thirty-million-dollar order canceled, you’ll also owe me ten million in damages. Are you smashing your own rice bowl?” I leaned against the car seat and looked at the bruise on the back of my hand from the IV. “Mr. Whitaker, that company is now under Eric Bell’s control. The damages will naturally fall on him, the legal representative and majority shareholder.” Back when we registered the company, to protect Eric’s pride, he was made the legal representative with a sixty-percent share. I only took forty percent. He had always thought it was proof of my love. But legally, if anything went wrong, he was the one carrying joint liability. “The new director, Kayla, found a supplier with extremely low prices. All defective goods.” “Mr. Whitaker, just let her sign. In three days, when the materials enter the site, bring quality inspection officers for a surprise check. The ten million in damages will become Pinnacle’s lawful income.” After hanging up, the cramping pain in my lower abdomen returned. Cold sweat had already soaked my back. I gathered my strength and drove home. The large apartment downtown was bought in full with my own savings years ago. To protect Eric’s self-esteem, I had always told people we rented it together. The moment I opened the door, a strong smell of burning herbs mixed with the stench of spicy noodles hit me in the face. When I reached the living room, I froze. On the custom leather sofa I had spent eighty thousand on, an oily old bedsheet had been spread out. Eric’s mother was sitting cross-legged on it, slurping noodles. By her feet lay several baby clothes, cut to pieces. Last month, full of anticipation, I had personally gone to a baby store to pick out soft cotton clothes for a newborn. Now they were being used as rags, stained with sunflower seed shells and noodle soup she had spat out. “Oh, the big boss finally came home?” My mother-in-law kicked the little clothes on the floor and spoke sarcastically. “You couldn’t even keep a child, yet you still keep running outside.” “Our Eric is kind. If this were back in the village, any other man would’ve thrown out a hen like you who can’t lay eggs.” I stared at the ruined baby clothes on the floor. My nails dug deep into my palm. Just then, the front door opened again. Eric came in with Kayla, holding beer and cooked food. “Mom, look who’s here. Kayla made our family proud today. She signed a thirty-million-dollar deal.” Eric’s voice was filled with feverish joy. The moment his mother heard this, she pushed her bowl aside. Her face filled with smiles as she grabbed Kayla and praised her nonstop. When Eric realized I was home, he frowned, his tone full of impatience. “Why are you standing there? Can’t you see Mom made the floor dirty? Hurry up and mop it.” He pointed at the baby clothes being used as rags and said matter-of-factly, “Mom said those things are unlucky. They’ll affect the fortune our family is about to make. Throw them into the trash later.” My heart felt as if someone had crushed it. That had been his child too. Yet he felt no grief at all. His mind was filled only with that imaginary thirty million. Kayla joined in, her greedy eyes fixed on the Porsche keys by the entryway. “Exactly, Natalie. I’m a project director now. From now on, I’ll cover all the household expenses. You can just stay home and take care of my cousin and my aunt.” “Oh, by the way, lend me your Porsche for a few days. If I’m going out to discuss million-dollar business, I need some proper style, right?” Looking at the three parasites in front of me, I suddenly found it all absurd. This was the man I had loved for five years with my whole heart, the man I once wanted to spend my life with. I unclenched my fists and took a deep breath. “Fine. You can drive it.” I looked coldly at Eric and said calmly, “Since you all think I’m unlucky, I also think this apartment is getting a little crowded. I’ll go back to my parents’ place for a few days to recover.” Eric froze. He probably thought I would argue with him like before over his mother’s cruelty. He had not expected me to give in this time. “Fine. Go cool your head.” “Come back when you’ve thought it through. But let me say this first. I’m a boss now, big or small. Don’t expect me to lower myself and come pick you up.” “Don’t worry. You won’t need to.” I turned into the bedroom and dragged out the small suitcase I had already packed with the property deed and important documents. When I passed through the living room, I did not even lift my eyes. I opened the door and walked out. Behind me, my mother-in-law’s harsh voice continued. “Go then. Unlucky thing.” “Eric, when you get that thirty million, Mom will find you a proper young girl who can give you a big fat son.” The moment the elevator doors closed, I took out my phone and sent a message to the property manager. “I’m Natalie Grant, owner of Unit 1602. Please cancel all door codes and fingerprints for my unit first thing tomorrow morning.” 3 “Also, help me contact a junk removal company. Have them come to my apartment tomorrow and remove the trash. Anything that is not my personal clothing can be taken away as garbage.” After sending the message, I took a cab straight to a budget hotel. After a hot shower, I had the first peaceful sleep since the surgery. At ten the next morning, I was leaning against the hotel bed and drinking warm water when my phone chimed. Kayla had posted on social media. In the photo, she wore an ill-fitting business suit and held up the stamped performance agreement. The background was Pinnacle Group’s large conference room. Caption: “Thirty-million-dollar deal signed. From today on, call me the youngest female CEO.” Below it was Eric’s immediate like and comment. “Kayla made me proud. Tonight I’m taking you and Mom out for seafood to celebrate.” I looked at the screen and sneered. Then I casually liked the post, took a screenshot, and sent it to my lawyer. “The evidence is complete. The contract has taken effect. Proceed with the rest according to plan.” The lawyer replied quickly. “Understood. Pinnacle Group’s legal department has connected with us. Quality inspectors are already at the entrance of their worksite.” Less than five minutes later, Eric called. The moment I answered, his furious roar came through. “Natalie, are you insane? Why did the property management change all the door codes?” “And why did a bunch of junk collectors run into the apartment and drag my mother outside?” “My mom has a bad heart. If something happens to her, I’ll kill you.” Listening to my mother-in-law wailing like a slaughtered pig in the background, I frowned and moved the phone farther away. “Correction. That is my apartment. The property deed has only my name on it, and I paid for it in full.” “So I asked the property manager to clear out the garbage I don’t want. That’s reasonable, isn’t it?” Eric froze. He had never known the apartment was fully paid for under my name. But he reacted quickly and began cursing again. “Stop acting so high and mighty. You think kicking us out means you control me?” “I’m telling you, Natalie, I usually let your attitude slide. But today Kayla just signed a thirty-million-dollar deal. The Bell family is about to be worth millions.” “You come back right now, kneel to my mom, apologize, and change the locks back. Otherwise I’ll divorce you immediately and make sure you get nothing.” I laughed out loud. “Great. See you at city hall at two this afternoon. Whoever doesn’t show is a coward.” Eric clearly had not expected me to accept the challenge. He snorted coldly. “Fine. Don’t regret it. I’m a big boss now. What kind of woman can’t I get?” “Big boss?” I could not help interrupting his dream. “Mr. Bell, before you throw a tantrum, why don’t you check how much money is left in the company account?” The other end suddenly went silent. Then came the sound of frantic mouse clicking. “Where’s the money? Where’s the three million in operating capital?” Eric’s voice instantly changed pitch. “Natalie, where did you transfer the company’s money?” “That was money I advanced under my own name. I withdrew it all.” “Oh, and I already submitted my withdrawal statement yesterday.” Listening to his breathing grow heavier and heavier, I said calmly, word by word, “By the way, the agreement Kayla just signed is a performance contract. The defective supplier she found has already sent goods to Pinnacle’s site.” “Just now, Mr. Whitaker from Pinnacle messaged me. The quality inspectors have already detained that batch of defective products at the worksite gate.” “Eric Bell, not only is the thirty-million-dollar order dead, but according to the contract, as the legal representative holding sixty percent of the shares, you must immediately pay Pinnacle Group ten million in damages.” “What… You tricked me?” Eric finally panicked. “Natalie, are you insane? That company was your hard work too.” “Yes. So what’s wrong with me destroying it with my own hands?” Just then, Kayla’s scream rang out from the other end. “What are you doing? I’m Director Bell. Let go of me.”

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1 My sister had seen object values since childhood. Through her gifts, she moved our parents from the slums to a river-view villa. On leave from the research institute, I found her showing off a stone in the living room. “Mom, Dad, this holds imperial green jade worth a fortune,” she claimed. Our parents fawned over it, touching it in awe. One glance told me the stone contained a deadly radioactive source. Panicked, I grabbed gloves and rushed to contain it. My mother shoved me back. “Jealous of your sister’s talent? Stop spouting nonsense!” With no choice, I suited up and cut it open. The dull gray mineral inside horrified me—but not them. My mother slapped me. “You ruined Serena’s treasure!” They stripped my suit and locked me in the storage room with the source to “reflect.” I pounded the door, bleeding from every orifice, until I died. When I opened my eyes, my sister was again holding that stone. This life, I would let them bask in their own blessed glow. Perhaps my gaze stayed on the stone too long, because Serena Brooks glanced at me suspiciously and hugged it closer. Then her eyes turned, and a smug smile spread across her face. Her tone was full of disdain. “Alyssa, you finally dragged yourself out of that shabby research institute? You work yourself to death for that tiny salary all year. It’s not even a fraction of what I make finding one bargain.” “If you ask me, quit already and come be my driver. At least then you’d contribute something to the family.” My parents immediately echoed her. My mother rolled her eyes, her voice thick with sarcasm. “Exactly, Alyssa. You were born without that kind of luck. You found some useless job and work yourself to the bone, but what you earn in a year can’t compare to one of Serena’s outings.” “You might as well come back and work for Serena. Maybe you can borrow a little of her luck and change that hard-life face of yours.” Their belittling and insults had long ago become routine whenever I came home. My ears were numb to it. They called me cursed, laughed that I had no fortune, then lifted Serena up as the family’s lucky star. As if my existence was only meant to highlight Serena’s luck. My face showed no emotion. I was too lazy to respond. I only wanted to find my documents quickly, so I mumbled something vague and turned toward the stairs. But my refusal to react displeased Serena. What she enjoyed most was watching me become humiliated and helpless. My calm gave her no satisfaction. So she grabbed my mother’s arm and shook it, malice glittering openly in her eyes. “Mom, since Alyssa is back, didn’t Grandma leave behind a silver bracelet? Why don’t we divide it today?” “Same old rules. You and Dad put the items in two boxes. This time, I’ll let her choose first, so she can’t keep whining behind our backs that you favor me.” She said it playfully, as if this were a fun game. She did not treat Grandma’s belongings as keepsakes, nor did she care about my feelings. This choose-one trick had long been her favorite way to humiliate me. Everyone knew she could see the value of objects. For her, this was never a fair choice. It was a rigged game, set up so she could laugh at my lack of fortune. At first, the boxes only contained toys or jewelry my parents bought. But later, when they saw I did not care about those things, they turned their attention to Grandma’s relics. Before Grandma died, she had clearly said those things were for me. But over the years, in Serena’s little games, she snatched them away one by one. Whether valuable or worthless, she refused to leave me even one memory. And this silver bracelet was the last thing Grandma had left behind. This game had finally reached the point where it should end. My mother skillfully took out two identical wooden boxes from the cabinet and placed them on the coffee table. She looked at me with a half-smile, unable to hide the mockery in her voice. “Alyssa, look how considerate Serena is. She’s even letting you pick first. Don’t be ungrateful.” My parents and Serena all stared at me. Their eyes shone with excitement, waiting for me to choose the empty box so they could mock me together. With memories from my previous life, I remembered exactly what was inside each box. Watching them struggle to suppress their smiles, I sneered inwardly and pointed directly at one of the boxes. “I want this one.” 2 My parents’ and Serena’s smiles froze instantly. They stared at me in disbelief. After a long silence, my mother forced herself to speak, bluffing. “Alyssa, I’ll give you one more chance. Think carefully. Everyone knows your luck is terrible. Are you sure you don’t want the other one?” I caught the undisguised shock in her eyes and shook my head firmly. “This one. Open it.” My words did not make them move. Instead, the three of them exchanged glances. After their eyes met, my mother suddenly pointed at me and shrieked. “Alyssa, did you peek when I was putting the things in?” Serena looked at me with contempt too. “You cheated even at a game. How boring. This round doesn’t count. We’re choosing again.” As soon as she said that, my parents snatched the boxes back and went into another room to switch them behind my back. They did not even bother asking my opinion. Soon, the two boxes were placed back on the coffee table. My mother pressed down on the lids as if guarding against a thief. “Choose.” Expressionless, I lifted my hand and pointed at one at random. This time, my parents finally relaxed. Serena immediately opened the other box and proudly snapped the silver bracelet onto her wrist. “I knew you cheated earlier. Alyssa, how could you possibly have good luck? A cursed thing like you thinks she can compare to a lucky star like me?” I curved my lips into a cold smile and slowly stepped back. I did not bother defending myself. She was right. From childhood to now, my luck had never compared to hers. Before Serena could even speak, my parents once pushed her out for a walk in her stroller. When they passed a scratch-off lottery stand, she grabbed one ticket and refused to let go. When my parents tried to take it, she cried loudly, so they had no choice but to buy it. That one scratch-off ticket changed our family’s life overnight. At first, everyone thought it was a coincidence. But as Serena grew older, every time she went out, she could bring back treasures worth thousands or even hundreds of thousands. Only then did my family quietly understand her special ability. As for me, I was not a cursed disaster star by nature. I was just an ordinary person who could not win the lottery. But compared with Serena’s glow, I looked especially unlucky. At first, my parents did not treat me too badly. I was their eldest daughter, after all. Although they favored the younger one, they still treated me decently. But as Serena brought the family more and more profit, they lifted her up as the treasure of the household. They obeyed her every wish and helped her push me down wherever they could. Over time, they truly began to hate me, the older sister Serena called cursed. For years, I endured silently. After all, the family had benefited because of her, and I had also enjoyed some of that comfort. As long as my giving in could maintain a surface-level peace at home, I did not argue. Even when Grandma’s belongings were taken from me one by one, I said nothing. But in my previous life, when I died in that storage room, blood pouring from every opening, I finally woke up completely. My parents and Serena had long since lost every trace of family affection toward me. In their eyes, I was only a toy for their amusement. Even if they killed me with their own hands, they would feel no guilt. Thinking of how, after my death, they lied to the outside world and said I had illegally researched radioactive materials and suffered the consequences, ruining my reputation and all my hard work, hatred surged inside me. My life had already been repaid to them. This time, it was their turn to taste Serena’s radiant luck. I had planned to take my documents and leave. But unexpectedly, Serena suddenly carried that deadly stone and strutted into my room. Then she shoved it right in front of my face. 3 The moment I saw the stone that had killed me in my previous life, every hair on my body stood up. I instinctively stepped back, my voice tightening. “Serena, why did you bring that thing here?” Right now, I had no protection on. I did not dare get close to the stone at all. Even though the radioactive material inside was still wrapped by rock, I did not want the slightest contact with it. Serena did not care. She only glanced at me dismissively, then looked around my room, her tone full of arrogance. “Why are you reacting so dramatically? Are you still bitter about losing the bracelet? That was your own bad luck.” “My treasure room is full. Dad already contacted someone to come this afternoon and turn half your room into storage shelves for me.” As she spoke, she pushed the stone even closer to my face, her eyes high and superior. “Don’t you have any sense? I’ve been holding it this long. Don’t you know to take it from me?” “Store this jade rough properly for me. If it gets chipped or damaged, selling you wouldn’t be enough to pay for it.” Seeing how guarded I remained, refusing to reach out no matter what, Serena sneered. Then she simply placed the mud-stained stone directly on my bed. She did not care that dirt and gravel spilled all over my sheets. Then she turned and walked away. Staring at that unremarkable stone, I felt the pain of radiation poisoning from my previous life sweep over me again. The memory was so vivid that cold sweat poured down my back. I did not dare delay. I hurried to take out a protective suit from my suitcase and put it on. Only then did I feel slightly able to breathe. I refused to spend another second in the same room as that lethal thing. I grabbed the documents I had found, stuffed them into my bag, and quickly headed out. “Alyssa, where are you going? Didn’t I tell you to watch my stone properly?” Just as I reached the living room, Serena’s questioning voice crashed down on me. When my mother heard it, she immediately joined in with sharp accusations. “Alyssa, this family raised you for so many years. Now you’re making excuses when we ask you to do one little thing?” “Go back and guard that treasure. If anything happens to it, I’ll hold you responsible.” Before she finished, she reached out and grabbed my arm, trying to drag me back to the room. Of course I was not willing to go down with their whole family beside that damned radioactive object. I struggled hard. During the struggle, my coat was accidentally pulled open, revealing the protective suit underneath. Serena had been yelling for Dad to come teach me a lesson. When she saw the suit, her face instantly darkened. Her suspicious gaze swept over the protective suit several times. Her voice became guarded. “Alyssa, why are you dressed like that at home?” At Serena’s question, my mother tightened her grip on my arm, as if she would not let go unless I explained. I sneered inwardly. What was there to say? In my last life, I had fought with all my strength to stop them from being harmed by radiation, only to be locked up and left to die. If I exposed the truth about the stone now, they might once again force me to cut it open, just like before. I would be the one to suffer again. Seeing me remain silent, Serena stepped closer. Her eyes were full of urgent suspicion, her tone sharper and sharper. “Alyssa, why are you acting mute? Wearing that creepy thing at home, are you trying to disgust us? Or did you hide something shameful in your room to harm the whole family?” As she spoke, she reached out to tear at my protective suit. 4 My heart tightened. I yanked myself free from my mother’s grip and stepped back, creating distance. Then I said coldly, “You’re overthinking. I’m wearing this because the institute recently received a batch of samples that might contain radioactive material. I’m used to taking precautions.” “I already said I’m busy today. I only came back to get some things. I don’t have time to watch your treasure.” “Radioactive material?” Serena instantly stepped several paces back and covered her mouth and nose, her face full of disgust. “You handled that kind of thing and still dared come home? Alyssa, how malicious can you be?” My mother quickly shook the hand that had touched my clothes, as if she had been contaminated by something filthy. Disgust nearly spilled out of her eyes. “I knew you were up to no good. Alyssa, get out of this house right now. Don’t come back if you don’t need to. Don’t bring bad luck to our family.” They cursed at me and shoved me toward the door. When the door slammed shut in front of me, the heart that had been hanging in my chest finally settled completely. Now I would not have to enjoy the radiation blessing with them. Not long after, news spread through the circle that the Brooks family had obtained an imperial green rough stone and would soon host an auction. Although the Brooks family had only risen in recent years as nouveau riche, Serena’s ability to find overlooked treasures had already attracted many admirers. This time, to witness the cutting of imperial green with their own eyes, business owners and jewelers came in endless waves, filling the banquet hall. At the banquet, Serena stood in the center holding the rough stone. Listening to the waves of praise around her, she smiled so widely her eyes narrowed into slits. Her face was full of pride. My parents stood beside her, surrounded by flattery. Their backs were straighter than ever, as if they had already reached the threshold of top-tier high society. From beginning to end, no one mentioned me, the Brooks family’s eldest daughter. It was as if I had never existed. Amid endless compliments, Serena grew even more pleased. She waved for my parents to bring over the cutting machine so everyone could see. The machine sliced down several times, peeling away the stone layer by layer. But the expected imperial green did not appear. What emerged was only a dull gray stone with somewhat unusual patterns. The smiles on the guests’ faces froze instantly. The banquet hall, noisy moments ago, suddenly fell into dead silence. People glanced at one another and began whispering in low voices. Serena’s smile froze too. Her eyes filled with confusion and panic. But under my parents’ anxious, helpless gazes, she forced herself to stay calm and promised confidently, “Mom, Dad, don’t panic. When have I ever missed?” “Even if this isn’t imperial green, look at these special patterns. It must still be a priceless treasure.” “It’s fine if we don’t recognize it. There are so many knowledgeable buyers here. Someone will know its value.” After saying that, she took a deep breath, picked up the cut stone, raised it high, and put a confident smile back on her face. “Everyone, although this isn’t imperial green, I’m sure you can see how unique it is.” “The starting bid for this stone is ten million. Anyone interested may begin bidding.” She waited expectantly for bids from the crowd. But what answered her was my mother’s shrill, distorted scream from behind. “Serena. You… Why is your nose bleeding so much?”

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When my family forced me into an arranged marriage, I bypassed all the arrogant billionaire heirs and chose the only doctor in the bunch. Only after we got married did the truth slowly dawn on me. He was exactly like that tragic doctor friend from those cheesy romance novels, the one who constantly gets dragged out of bed in the middle of the night to treat the main character’s runaway lover. After witnessing this ridiculous scenario play out a few times in real life, I completely abandoned any romantic notions of building a real relationship with him. Seriously, who wants to spend their marriage competing with a bunch of dramatic, codependent billionaire man-children for their own husband’s attention? But what I never, in my wildest dreams, expected, was that he could suddenly read my mind. … 1 For people born into our circle, an arranged marriage is a card we always knew we would have to play. It was a fair trade. We enjoyed a life of obscene luxury, so it was only natural we had to pay the toll when the time came. In that regard, I considered myself incredibly lucky. I actually got to choose my own groom, provided he came from the designated pool of trust-fund heirs. Truthfully, I didn’t care all that much who it was. Everyone in our world understood that a dynastic marriage was nothing more than a polished performance, a gilded handshake to seal a merger between two corporate empires. But since the choice was mine, I wanted someone normal. I did my research. One candidate was hopelessly entangled with his ex who had moved to Paris, a classic case of chasing a ghost. Absolutely not. Another was currently playing a toxic game of hide-and-seek with a runway model he kept in a penthouse downtown. Pass. A third had just bought a yacht for an actress twice his age. No, thank you. After crossing off the disasters, I thought of Andrew. The few times I had seen him at charity galas, he had always seemed the picture of quiet elegance. His name sounded like the perfect fit for a brooding billionaire CEO, yet he was the only man in his circle of heirs who didn’t run a company. Andrew was a doctor. A genuine, terrifyingly brilliant academic who had pushed himself through an elite MD-PhD program at the country’s top medical school. He fit the part perfectly. He spoke with a gentle, measured cadence, and he always looked impeccably clean and put together. Whenever I saw him, he was clad in crisp, pale suits, giving him a sort of serene, saintly aura, likely amplified by my own bias toward his profession. Our match came together with ridiculous ease. The moment our parents sat down to discuss it, they practically shook hands on the spot. When they asked Andrew, he reportedly agreed without a single second of hesitation. Within a month, I went from a girl who had never even held hands with a boy to a married woman. On our wedding day, I moved into the townhouse he had bought for us. The warm beige decor and minimalist aesthetic suited his calm demeanor perfectly. After showing me around the place, Andrew led me to the door of the master bedroom. His voice was soft and warm. “Even though this is an alliance, I don’t want our marriage to be a hollow contract. I want us to take our time, get to know each other, and build something real.” He pointed toward the guest bedroom across the hall. “I’ll sleep in there. Don’t feel pressured. I won’t touch you until we both feel ready.” I closed the door to my new room and let out a breath. To be honest, he was far better than I had anticipated. Even though I had never heard a whisper of scandal about him, his closest friends were all notoriously high-maintenance playboys with a penchant for keeping dramatic side-pieces. Birds of a feather usually flock together. But Andrew seemed entirely different from them. Even so, I guarded my heart. I only hoped we could maintain a polite, respectful distance. As long as he didn’t bring his messes to my doorstep, I had no intention of policing his private life. Two months flew by in a blur of domestic peace. One evening, after a long shower, I lay on my bed and stared at the ridiculously sheer lace nightgown draped over the vanity chair. My heart began to hammer against my ribs. Andrew was a perfect gentleman, completely content to keep his hands to himself. But I wasn’t a saint. I was twenty-four, and my romantic experience was practically nonexistent, but my mind was firmly in the gutter. I had a gorgeous, tempting husband living right across the hall. Why on earth was I voluntarily living like a nun? Besides, during these past two months, we had fallen into a beautiful rhythm. He was home by six every evening. We shared cozy, quiet dinners. We spent weekends wandering through museums, and he would sit patiently in the salon while I got my nails done, or curl up on the sofa with me to watch terrible soap operas. I had to admit, I was falling for him. 2 One afternoon, while out shopping with my friends, I glanced at my phone and realized it was already half past five. A sudden, instinctual thought flashed through my mind: I need to go home. The thought made me pause, a strange, complex wave of emotion washing over me. I realized I was no longer calling the townhouse a house. In my mind, it had become home. I had developed a deep, unexpected sense of belonging to that space, and to Andrew. I had grown up watching the chaotic, miserable marriages in our social circle. My own parents were a masterclass in dysfunction, with my father parading a revolving door of mistresses and my mother pretending not to notice. I thought I was entirely immune to the concept of love and family. But the quiet, steady pull of daily life with Andrew had worn down my defenses. Thinking about the kind of man he had shown himself to be over the past few weeks, a tiny spark of courage flared in my chest. I wanted to take a gamble. Maybe, just maybe, trusting someone wouldn’t end in disaster. Andrew’s parents were one of the rare couples in high society who genuinely loved each other. A son raised by them had to have some decent bones in his body. And if it turned out to be a trap, well, perhaps everyone had to touch the fire once to learn it was hot. I slipped into the black lace nightgown, walked quietly over to Andrew’s bedroom door, and leaned against the frame in a pose I had seen in a magazine. I tapped gently on the wood. The door opened, and Andrew froze. His eyes darted frantically left and right, searching for a jacket or a blanket to wrap around me, but there was nothing within reach. As the seconds stretched, his gaze darkened, burning with a sudden, intense heat. His voice dropped to a low, husky register. “Evie, are you sure?” When I nodded, he didn’t hesitate. He swept me into his arms. The room was dark save for the warm, amber glow of the bedside lamp. My temperature spiked, my thoughts scattering into a hazy fog. As I lay back, my eyes caught the stark white of his bedsheets, and a highly inappropriate, mundane thought popped into my head: Those sheets are so white, they must be a nightmare to bleach. I never got to test that theory. Just as Andrew untied his tie, his phone began to wail on the nightstand. He drew in a sharp, ragged breath, his chest rising and falling against mine. He braced one hand beside my ear, leaning over me to grab the device. “Andrew, Gavin drank way too much tonight. He’s doubled over in agony. Can you please come take a look at him?” The voice on the line was frantic. It belonged to an assistant I vaguely recognized from one of Andrew’s trust-fund friends. Andrew went still. When he spoke, his voice was rough and thick with friction. “I understand. I’ll be there soon.” The fog in my brain vanished instantly. I grabbed the lapels of his half-undone shirt, a sudden, sharp ache blooming in my chest. “Don’t go,” I whispered. Andrew looked down at me, his eyes softening as he leaned in to press a gentle kiss to my forehead. “Be good, sweetheart. I need to go check on him.” Watching him pull away to put his clothes back on, a wave of hot anger rushed through me. I stared at his back, screaming silently in my head: Oh, “be good, I’ll go check.” Sure. Who knows if you’re checking on your buddy or your secret soulmate. Andrew paused mid-motion, his shoulders tensing. He slowly turned around, giving me a profoundly complicated look. “What?” I asked aloud, keeping my face blank. He shook his head, looking slightly dazed, and went back to buttoning his shirt. I continued my silent tirade: Go ahead, run along. Nobody can stop the great Saint Andrew. Who needs 911? Who needs a hospital? You must have magic hands, since apparently a grown man’s stomachache can only be cured by you. Having vented my frustration internally, I felt a bit better. But as Andrew walked toward the door, he stumbled slightly over his own feet. I must have imagined it. He was famous in our circle for being completely unshakeable, a man who never lost his cool. “Evie,” he said softly, pausing at the door. “I’ll be back before you know it.” I fell asleep long before he returned. When I woke up the next morning, he was sleeping soundly beside me, back in his usual pajamas. The sight of him only made my annoyance flare up again. What kind of man gets dressed and runs out of the house in the middle of that? I had literally felt the heat radiating off his skin when he reached for his phone. He had wanted me. And yet, he had still walked out. I chewed viciously on a piece of toast at the kitchen island. Andrew padded into the kitchen a few minutes later. Seeing my dark expression, a soft, helpless laugh escaped him. He stepped up behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist and pressing his lips to the shell of my ear. “I’m so sorry, Evie. Gavin has been dealing with some massive crises lately. He drank himself into a bleeding ulcer last night, and I was genuinely worried about him.” What was done was done. I didn’t want to drag out the argument. But later that afternoon, while I was lounging on the sofa, a cheesy romance drama started playing on the television. The plot was a classic: the toxic billionaire lead was chasing the female lead, she got hurt, and the male lead immediately summoned his doctor friend in the middle of the night to treat her. A lightbulb suddenly went off in my brain. All the romance novels I had ever read came rushing back to me in a wave of sudden clarity. My god. Andrew wasn’t the main character. He was the exhausted, midnight-summoned doctor friend who existed solely as a plot device for his chaotic billionaire buddies. Billionaire CEOs? We had plenty of those in our circle. Drinking themselves to the point of hospitalization? Check. A doctor friend on speed dial? Check. Summoned in the middle of the night? Double check. I pictured Andrew being dragged from pillar to post by a bunch of dramatic, emotionally stunted men, running around like a tired golden retriever trying to put out their self-inflicted fires. I couldn’t help but chuckle. That evening, I didn’t make a move, but Andrew knocked on my bedroom door anyway. His hair was perfectly styled, and the faint, woody scent of his cologne drifted into the room. He leaned against the doorframe, a brilliant, hopeful smile playing on his lips. “Any chance you have room for me tonight?” 3 I arched an eyebrow. “What’s the matter? No urgent medical crises to attend to tonight?” He didn’t answer with words. Instead, he cupped my face in his warm palms, tilted my head up, and kissed me. His lips were soft, parting mine with a slow, deliberate hunger. With the ice broken from the night before, everything fell into place naturally. But just as he pulled his shirt over his head, we both froze. We stared at each other, then slowly turned our heads to look at his phone resting on the nightstand, terrified it would start buzzing again. The sheer absurdity of the moment broke the tension, and we both burst into quiet laughter. He leaned down, his voice thick with amusement. “I’m not going anywhere tonight, I promise.” My cheeks burned. He made it sound like I was the one who couldn’t wait. That night taught me a valuable lesson: appearances can be highly deceiving. Andrew was a good man. In every sense of the word. Professionally, he was entirely dedicated to finding a cure for a rare, terminal illness. He had a heart of gold, treated his family with utmost respect, and remained fiercely loyal to his friends. To me, he was always gentle and attentive. But being too good of a person came with its own set of complications. It wasn’t long before our plans began to suffer. We would set aside an evening to celebrate a milestone, or plan a quiet weekend getaway, only for his phone to interrupt us. It didn’t happen every day, but when it did, it was always at the worst possible moment. The assistants calling his phone sounded more panicked and pathetic with every call. One night, it was a billionaire friend who had drunk himself into another stupor. Another night, it was someone else who had gotten into a toxic, screaming match with a lover and allegedly collapsed from exhaustion. When people claimed someone was on the brink of death, how could I hold him back? Even though I found the drama ridiculous—since calling a private ambulance was hardly a monumental task—they always insisted it had to be Andrew. Andrew always tried his best to resolve the issue quickly and rush back to me, but the damage was always done. The romantic mood would be thoroughly ruined, leaving a cold, lingering disappointment in its wake. Today was our first wedding anniversary. The night before, I had sat Andrew down and told him explicitly that I did not want a single interruption. He had been working late at the research lab for weeks, and we had barely spent any quality time together. This anniversary was supposed to be our sanctuary. We spent the afternoon wandering through a quiet gourmet grocery store. It felt like a luxury just to walk side by side. For my last birthday, Andrew had surprised me by cooking a full three-course dinner. The food had been spectacular, perfectly tailored to my tastes. Back when we first realized we had feelings for each other, we had gone all out for every holiday. But for our first anniversary, we wanted nothing more than to cook a simple meal together in our kitchen. I leaned against the dining table, watching Andrew move around the stove, a sudden wave of warmth washing over me. A year ago, I never could have imagined my married life would look like this. It wasn’t wild or theatrical, but it was incredibly warm. I walked over and wrapped my arms around his waist from behind. He let out a soft laugh and began to turn around to face me. Then, the phone rang. My stomach dropped. Over the past year, I had developed a physical, pavlovian dread of that ringtone. I pressed my forehead against his back, listening to him answer. On the other end, an assistant’s voice crackled with familiar, practiced panic. “Dr. Vance, please, you need to come right away…” Anger, sharp and hot, flared in my chest. I reached around him, snatched the phone straight out of his hand, and spoke directly into the receiver. “Is your finger broken, or are you physically unable to dial 911? If he is dying, take him to a hospital.” The line went dead silent. I ended the call and tossed the phone onto the counter. I was shaking. “That was Chase Montgomery’s assistant, wasn’t it? I know his voice by now. You seriously believe a playboy like Chase is drinking himself to death over some girl?” Andrew looked torn, his brow furrowing. “I heard he actually fell hard for someone this time…” “He falls hard every single Tuesday!” I snapped, my voice trembling. “If you walk out that door tonight, don’t talk to me about us anymore. Since your precious bros are so important to you, go spend the rest of your life with them.” And yet, he still walked out.

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