Author: Momo Chan

I was born with a visual impairment. When we took our wedding photos, I asked the photographer to dim the lights. But my fiancé, Brandon, said it wouldn’t look good if it was too dark. I had no choice but to endure the discomfort and continue the shoot. “Annie, our wedding package includes a solo photoshoot, so I called Audrey to use it.” Seeing my expression, Brandon came over and kissed my forehead. “You’ve taken so many already, it’d be a waste not to give it to her.” Yet, when Audrey took her solo shots, the moment she said it was too bright, Brandon immediately dimmed the lights. And it wasn’t just that. At our destination wedding, before I even boarded the boat, I saw him thoughtfully putting my sunglasses on Audrey. “Audrey, it’s sunny on the boat, protect your eyes.” I stood silently, not getting on board. I sent Brandon a message. “Let’s cancel the wedding.” “I don’t know if I’m blind, but it seems you already have someone else in mind to marry.” The moment I sent the message, my phone immediately rang. “Annie, it’s our wedding, why are you suddenly throwing a tantrum?” I listened quietly, saying nothing, and Brandon seemed to find an outlet for his frustration. “It all comes down to you not getting the laser eye surgery. If you’d just done it earlier, wouldn’t there be no problems at all?” “Audrey had her surgery ages ago, and her eyesight is perfectly fine now. Why do you have to be so difficult and disobedient?” I sighed, my chest tightening with a suffocating feeling. He never seemed to understand that my visual impairment was due to a congenital retinal defect, making surgery impossible. What made me even more hysterical was that this was “our” wedding, yet he insisted on bringing Audrey along. He took her to work, on business trips, and even on our dates. When I protested and got angry, Brandon would just cuddle me, acting sweet. “My professor asked me on his deathbed to take care of Audrey. Annie, we’re getting married, can’t you just let her be?” How could I not? He’d remember to buy Audrey birthday gifts but forget mine. He’d watch movies she liked, pushing aside our dates. Even when Audrey had a cold, he’d stay up all night to care for her, while if I wasn’t feeling well, he’d merely tell me to rest. I gave a bitter laugh and hung up the phone. There was nothing left to say between us. I got into a car home and called my arch-rival. “Didn’t you tell me not to marry Brandon? I agree. I won’t marry him. You marry me.” There was silence for a few seconds on the other end. Unusually, he didn’t curse at me, just replied with a “Fine.” After hanging up, I looked at the schedule my rival sent and immediately found a lawyer to draft divorce papers. Just then, Brandon sent me a message. “Annie, I’ve changed the destination wedding to tomorrow. Audrey and I are going to the island today to get a feel for it. I’ll pick you up tomorrow.” “Annie, I’m happy today, so I’ll indulge your little tantrum. Don’t let it happen again.” At the same time, Audrey’s social media updated. She wore my sunglasses, a revealing tube top dress, and hooked her arm around Brandon’s neck for a selfie. The caption: “Happy two-person getaway!” The comment section was filled with blessings for the two of them. “Your girlfriend is so pretty! Much prettier than Annie!” “Looks match, education matches! Most importantly, she’s healthy. Brandon, are you sure you don’t want to switch fiancées?” Brandon seemed to see that comment and immediately snapped back: “Shut up, all of you. I only see Audrey as a little sister. And you have no right to comment on my fiancée.” I scoffed. He seemed to be defending me, but he never stopped them from treating Audrey like his girlfriend. He didn’t even delete that misleading post. After leaving a comment saying “What a perfect match,” I turned to pack my things. As soon as I finished packing, Brandon’s call came in. “What did you mean by your comment? Annie, if your eyes were really bad, you wouldn’t have time to look at your phone and post those comments!” “Ruining our destination wedding wasn’t enough, now you have to ruin my trip with Audrey? When did you become so unreasonable?” I quietly listened to him finish his rant, then calmly said, “Then let’s get divorced.”

I didn’t get a reply from Brandon. Instead, it was Audrey, who was next to him, who spoke first. “Annie, Brandon and I really aren’t like that. If you don’t believe me, I can kneel down for you. No, I’ll die right now!” Then came sounds of pushing and Brandon’s shouts: “Audrey, what are you doing!” Although I couldn’t see Brandon stopping Audrey, I knew he must be holding her tightly in his arms. Just like countless times before, when Audrey cried from being wronged, he would definitely hold her close. If I protested, he would say, “I just see her as a sister.” Brandon’s voice came through the phone again: “Annie, do you really have to escalate things to this point? When did you become so utterly irrational!” I didn’t speak, but he seemed to think I was being stubborn, and he said as punishment: “I won’t see you before the destination wedding. You’re on your own.” In the past, when he said things like that, I would desperately beg for his forgiveness, rushing to him that very night to apologize. But today, I just calmly said, “Remember to sign the document in your email…” But before I could finish, he hung up. It didn’t matter. He would see that divorce agreement eventually. I got up and continued packing. As I pulled open the bottom drawer of my desk, a neat stack of photos fell out. They were all of Audrey. By the sea, at a coffee shop, in a laboratory, and a close-up of her in a white lab coat, making a peace sign at the camera. Turns out, they had known each other for a long time. Beneath the photos was a folded piece of paper. I pulled it out and unfolded it, discovering it was a prenatal check-up report. Audrey’s name was clearly written on it, along with the prominent words “fetal heartbeat visible.” The date was three months ago, the day Brandon and I confirmed our marriage. I gasped, then laughed, but the laughter soon turned to tears. Brandon and I also had a child. However, that child passed away when I was seventeen. That year, Brandon and I secretly had sex, and I accidentally got pregnant. He insisted on forcing me to have an abortion. On the operating table, I trembled all over from the pain, and he cried even harder than I did, holding my hand. He told me he loved me over and over again. He said he would be good to me for life, that he would definitely marry me. Later, I could never get pregnant again. Just as I was about to photograph the pictures for Brandon, a message popped up in the family SnapChat group. Mrs. Thompson said: “We’ve watched Audrey grow up, she’s like one of our own. No matter what, Annie, you can’t bully her.” Mr. Thompson added: “Someone with your challenges should know their place! If Brandon hadn’t insisted, do you really think you’d have a chance to marry into our family?” Several relatives followed suit below, and unusually, Brandon didn’t speak up for me. It wasn’t until the relatives finished their barrage of insults that he finally said: “I’ll make her apologize to Audrey.” I stared at the screen for a long time. It wasn’t that I hadn’t wanted to integrate into Brandon’s family. I had repeatedly suggested joining the SnapChat group. But he wouldn’t let me use a smartphone, saying my eyes were bad anyway and there was no need. This group was actually one Audrey had added me to. On the day I joined, Brandon’s family all opposed my entry as an outsider, but they never questioned Audrey. She, clearly also an outsider, had joined the group before me, Brandon’s long-established fiancée. I gave a bitter smile, photographed the prenatal report, and sent it into the family SnapChat group.

The group immediately fell silent. No one spoke again. I stared at the dead quiet chat box, suddenly finding it laughable. I put down my phone and, carrying my suitcase, prepared to go to the wedding house my rival had prepared for me early, when Brandon rushed in, looking disheveled. He must have seen the prenatal report, but he didn’t explain anything to me. “Annie, say something in the group.” His tone was unusually soft. “Just say that report isn’t Audrey’s, it’s yours, and the name was just entered incorrectly.” “Audrey is still a young woman, how can she face people if this gets out?” He crouched down and took my hand. “I don’t blame you for sending the report to the group, really. And we’re getting married soon, you don’t need to care about reputations…” Before he could finish, I slapped him across the face. I gritted my teeth, forcing myself not to cry: “Is the child yours?” Brandon’s face was turned away, he didn’t move. After a moment, he turned back, bypassing the topic. “Annie, I know your eyes aren’t good, you can’t see clearly. Give me your phone, I’ll send it for you.” I refused, but he forcefully snatched it and began editing a message. I turned my head, wiped away my tears. It didn’t matter. Whether it was mine or not wasn’t important. Anyway, I wasn’t going to marry him. After he sent the message, he looked at the suitcase in my hand, then at my tear-reddened eyes. He hesitated for a moment, wanting to hug me. “Annie, be good. I’ll help you carry the travel bags down. Don’t cry, your husband will love you well.” Just then, his phone rang. He stopped what he was doing and answered. Audrey’s broken sobs came through the phone, and Brandon, without a word, turned to leave. I grabbed him: “Don’t forget to check your email.” He paused, frowning as he looked at me, thinking I didn’t want him to leave. “Don’t be difficult. You’ve really upset Audrey, I need to be with her.” He leaned in to kiss my forehead: “You prepared a surprise for me, I’ll look at it when I get back, okay?” I turned my head away, his lips met empty air. Brandon’s brow furrowed deeper, but he didn’t fuss about it. “Wait for me to come back. I’ll pick you up tomorrow.” The door closed. The room fell silent again. Less than a minute later, I received a message from Brandon. “I won’t be picking you up tomorrow. Audrey is very distressed, I need to take her to a therapist.” “The destination wedding is postponed until I inform you.” I sighed, carried my suitcase downstairs myself, and just finished dropping off my luggage. As I was about to call a taxi to my new wedding house, Brandon’s call came in. “Annie! You’ve really gone too far. You know Audrey just had eye surgery, why would you have someone lock her in the sauna!”

“I didn’t. I’ve been at the villa handling my luggage. And, haven’t you checked your email?” “Enough!” He cut me off. “Isn’t it just because Audrey delayed our destination wedding, and you’re feeling resentful?” “I didn’t, I really didn’t…” Before I could finish, my phone suddenly vibrated. Audrey sent a message: “Annie, your good days are over.” I froze, before I could even understand what was happening. Footsteps suddenly came from behind me. Before I could turn around, the back of my head was hit with a sharp pain, and the world plunged into darkness. When I opened my eyes again, I was lying on the floor of a sauna room. Steam billowed, and my eyes, already poor, could see almost nothing. Brandon’s voice came from outside the door. I struggled to get up and saw Brandon holding and comforting Audrey. “It’s okay, it’s okay. I’ll get revenge for you.” Audrey was sobbing hysterically in his arms. As the temperature rose, a pain shot through my eyes. I propped myself up and furiously pounded on the door. “Brandon, my eyes can’t be in here, they’ll bleed! Let me out!” He froze slightly, and Audrey cried even harder. “My eyes hurt so much, what do I do? What if I can’t see anymore, what do I do?” Brandon tenderly wiped Audrey’s tears, not responding to me. “I really didn’t do it! Look at the message she sent me!” I held my phone up to the glass window, Audrey’s text message displayed on the screen. Brandon glanced at it. Before he could speak, Audrey shrieked again: “My eyes hurt so much! I’ll never see again! Brandon, I’m so scared…” “Don’t be afraid, don’t be afraid.” Brandon pulled her into his embrace, then turned to look at me, his eyes cold: “Annie, no excuse will work this time. Whatever you did to Audrey, I’ll do to you.” I covered my eyes, screaming: “At least look at my phone…” He didn’t listen. He was already embracing Audrey and turning to leave. The heat grew heavier. Tears streamed uncontrollably from my eyes, only to be evaporated by the high temperature. My eyeballs hurt more and more. I desperately smashed the door. Just then, the door opened. I was overjoyed, trying to get out, but a man pushed me to the ground. The man was drunk. He lunged at me, mumbling obscenities: “Pretty girl, I’m here.” My eyesight was too poor, I couldn’t see his movements, I could only struggle to dodge. But the sauna room was so small, there was no escaping. That filthy hand grabbed my wrist. I gritted my teeth, fumbled for the self-defense weapon I had hidden on me, and forcefully plunged it into my throat. … The steam fogged up the glass, obscuring the scene inside. Brandon’s friend, Mike, kindly reminded him. “Brandon, aren’t you going too far? She’s your fiancée, after all.” Brandon lit a cigarette, his tone nonchalant: “Just to scare her a bit. I didn’t even turn on the temperature.” “I have to teach her a lesson, otherwise she’ll keep bullying Audrey.” Mike paused: “Then why is she constantly screaming that her eyes hurt?” “She’s being dramatic.” Brandon exhaled a puff of smoke. “That’s just how she is…” Before he could finish, a staff member stumbled over: “N-no good! The lady in the sauna room… she killed herself!”

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The night before my wedding to the Don, I drive sixty miles to bring his mistress home myself. When Damien pushes the door open, he finds the two of us sitting at the table with an open bottle of red between us, laughing like old friends. He exhales. He’s relieved. “Aria. Since you already know, let Cordelia move in with us.” I don’t look up from my glass. “You’re still my wife on paper. But Cordelia is delicate. Let her have the ceremony tomorrow. Once she’s settled, I’ll marry you properly. I promise.” I swirl my wine. I say nothing. He takes that as a yes. He always does. He grabs Cordelia’s hand and walks out without looking back, off to pick a gown. My gown. For my wedding. I’m not angry. I open my phone. There’s a private channel. Five names. Every man on it sworn in blood to a Family older than this city. I type one line. I need a groom for tomorrow. Anyone in? Three seconds. The screen explodes. Damien’s own Capos. His sworn brothers. Crawling over each other to be the first to volunteer. I smile. See, Damien? You won’t marry me. There’s a line. I mute the channel and put the phone face down. “Miss Moretti.” Marco, the house consigliere, has been standing in the doorway for a while. He clears his throat. “The Don is asking for tomorrow’s gown.” A pause. He hates the next part. “He says since you’re not getting married tomorrow anyway, the gown should go to his bride.” The gown. Six months of design. A year of flying between Milan, Paris, and Sicily, every stitch done by hand inside a Moretti atelier. The same silk four generations of Moretti brides have worn. The family crest sewn into the bodice with thread spun from melted-down heirloom gold. Nobody knows what that gown means better than Damien. It isn’t a dress. It’s a contract. It’s my name made flesh. And now Cordelia Vance, the daughter of a rival consigliere, a girl with no blood claim to anything in this world, says she likes it, and I’m supposed to hand it over? “Tell him,” I say, “if he wants it, he can come crawling for it.” Thirty minutes later, the front door slams open. Damien strides in with a dozen boutique girls trailing behind him, each one carrying two gowns. He drops onto the couch and twists a lock of my hair around his finger. “Aria. Our wedding is still happening, just later. The girl wants the gown. Let her have it.” He waves at the boutique girls. “Pick a new one. Or don’t bother. Cordelia can return mine after the ceremony. I don’t mind if you wear it second.” Cordelia laughs. She throws herself across his lap and traces lazy circles on his chest. “Damien, you’re awful. You told all of New York no Moretti bride would ever wear a used gown. Now you want her to wear mine? She must hate me so much.” Damien strokes her hair. “She’s not that petty.” Then, lazy and cruel: “Besides. She’s been mine for ten years. Who else is ever going to take her?” I glance at my phone. The channel is still scrolling. Every one of those men sharper, hungrier, more dangerous than the one sprawled across my couch. Damien checks his own phone. Snorts. Drops a voice note into his groomsmen’s chat. “Boys, listen. Tomorrow at the ceremony, you treat Cordelia like the Donna. Full respect. I don’t want to hear a single name out of place. Understood?” He doesn’t notice. Not a single one of his sworn brothers replies. He pulls Cordelia tighter against him and reaches for me without even looking. “Aria, where do we keep the condoms? You know how Cordelia is. She’s all over me every night, and she throws a fit if she doesn’t get what she wants.” A pause. He smiles. “Don’t worry. I made you a promise. The first Sinclair heir comes out of you. Nobody else.” I almost laugh out loud. That promise. He remembers half of it. At twenty, under the harbor fireworks, he held my face in both hands and swore only you. The wedding will be yours. The first child will be yours. Always you. Ten years later, everything’s changed except the half that still works in his favor. He catches the look on my face and softens for a second. “You should smile more, Aria. You laughed all the time when you were twenty. These days you just look cold. I miss the old you.” I let the smile fall off my face. I tell Marco to bring the Don a box of condoms. Damien forgets the conversation the second it’s over. He’s pleased. I’m being good. I’m being reasonable. He scoops Cordelia up and heads for the stairs. “Take the guest room tonight, Aria. Cordelia wants me to herself. She’s a nightmare in the morning, so have the stylist wait outside her door. Don’t go in until she’s awake.” “Damien.” He stops on the landing. Turns his head. Eyebrows up, impatient. I look him in the eye and smile, soft, almost gentle. “The wedding tomorrow is still happening. Just so you know. If you’re not standing at the altar, someone else will be.”

Damien doesn’t buy it. He scoffs and shakes his head, like I’m a child throwing a fit. “Knock it off, Aria. This isn’t the time to fight for attention.” “Let me handle Cordelia first. Maybe if I sweeten her up, she’ll let you walk behind her as a bridesmaid tomorrow.” Cordelia pouts against his chest, tugging at his shirt, sulking. He doesn’t look back. He climbs the stairs with her in his arms, and a few minutes later the sounds start. The kind of sounds I’m supposed to pretend I can’t hear through the floor. Marco opens his mouth. Closes it. Opens it again. “Miss Moretti.” His voice is low, careful. “The seat of the Donna in this house… the Don has never once considered giving it to anyone else. You should know that.” I glance at the box of condoms in his hand. Then tip my chin toward the ceiling. “Take them up.” Around midnight, my phone goes off. Bianca. Her voice nearly punctures my eardrum. “Aria! What the hell is going on over there?!” “Damien just told everyone the wedding is off?! Are you kidding me? You’ve been bleeding for this thing for a year! Do you remember how many nights you didn’t sleep? Do you remember Sicily? Do you remember Milan?! And he just cancels it like he’s canceling brunch?!” I rub my ear and sit up. Sleep is gone. I open my mouth to tell her the wedding’s still on. She doesn’t let me get a syllable out. “Wait. Hold on. Hold on. That son of a bitch just sent me a new invitation. Same date, same venue, new bride. Some bitch named Cordelia Vance. And he wants me to show up and clap for her?!” “Who in God’s name is Cordelia Vance?! I’ve never even heard of this girl!” I lower my eyes. This is who Damien has always been. When he loves you, he gives you the moon. When he stops, he comes for the moon back, and the sky, and the air you breathe with it. A pair of headlights flashes across the wall. The room sinks back into darkness. “Bianca. Listen.” I keep my voice soft. “Don’t worry about any of it. Just show up tomorrow. The wedding is still on.” “He’s swapping out the bride. So tomorrow, I’m swapping out the groom.” The line goes dead quiet. She figures it out fast. Then she explodes. “That motherless snake. Swap him. Swap him hard. I want him on his knees by Sunday.” “Three years, Aria. Three years he’s been screwing some side piece while he had you flying around the world picking out flowers and silk samples. Three years he’s been telling you to wait for the date, the venue, the dress. And now he wants you to sit in the back row and watch?” Her voice breaks. “Don’t you dare cry. I’ll cry. I’m waking Marco’s brother right now. We’re burning this man’s life to the ground for you. Hold on, baby. Hold on.” I laugh, soft and exhausted. I want to tell her not to bother. The men lining up to take Damien’s place tomorrow each outrank him in blood, in territory, in body count. There’s nothing left of his life worth burning. I don’t get the chance. There’s a knock at my door. It’s Marco. He doesn’t have to speak. The look on his face says it all before his mouth opens. He hesitates, like the words physically hurt him. “Miss Moretti… the Don is asking for you. In the master bedroom.” I know what this is. If I refuse, Damien will take it out on Marco. I tell Bianca to put her maid of honor dress on tomorrow and meet me at the venue. Then I head upstairs. The master bedroom door is half open. The room is a wreck. Sheets twisted on the floor. The smell of sex hangs in the air, thick enough to choke on. Damien just got out of the shower. His hair is still dripping, water running down a neck covered in fresh bite marks and bruises, sliding into the open collar of his robe. I dig my nails into my palm and shove the pain in my chest down somewhere I can’t feel it. He sees me and waves lazily at the floor. At the bridesmaid dress crumpled there, stained, ruined. “Aria. I know you put a lot into this wedding. So here. Put this on tomorrow and stand behind Cordelia as her bridesmaid. Think of it as the year of your life paying off. At least you’ll be in the photos.” Cordelia smiles like a snake under those sheets. She leans in and whispers against his ear, loud enough for me to catch every word. “Damien, baby. Aria’s the one who made the Moretti ring, isn’t she? The one with all the family stones. I want it. Put it on me tomorrow.” My face doesn’t move. That ring isn’t jewelry. It’s a Moretti family signet. Four generations of Donnas have worn it. The inside band carries an engraving only the blood heir knows how to read. Whoever wears it carries the keys to my family’s ledger. Damien knows exactly what that ring is. He has to know. But he just raises an eyebrow and lets out a slow, lazy breath. “Aria. It’s a ring. The girl wants it. Don’t be stingy.” “You and I don’t even have a new date yet, sweetheart. You’ve got all the time in the world. Forge yourself a new one.” He says it the way you’d offer someone the last fry on your plate. And just like that, the pain in my chest dies. Every bit of it. Gone. I can’t feel a single thing. I look him dead in the eye and say it one more time, soft and slow. “I told you, Damien. Tomorrow’s wedding is still happening.”

Damien freezes for a beat. Then he laughs, low and certain, like a man humoring a child. “Continue with what, sweetheart? Your groom isn’t even in the room. You marrying the wallpaper?” “Come on, Aria. You’ve never been the clingy kind. I gave you my word. I’ll marry you. Just sit tight a couple more years and be a good girl. Hm?” Wait. Always wait. Ten years of waiting. I finally clawed my way to a wedding date. Three months out, I found out he’d been screwing someone else for three years. And now he wants me to wait again. Wait for him to marry another woman, give her his name, his bed, his ring. And then, when he gets bored of her, drag me out of storage and put me on the altar? “I’m done waiting, Damien.” He doesn’t hear me. He glances at the watch on his wrist, drags Cordelia back under the sheets, and tosses the words at me without looking up. “Night’s still young. We can go another round or two. Don’t worry, Aria. The first Sinclair heir is coming out of you. Nobody else gets that.” I lower my eyes. There’s nothing in them. I drop the bridesmaid dress on the floor and walk out. The next morning, neither of them comes down. The stylist is standing in the hallway, hugging her case, mortified. I walk over. “I’m the bride. Do me.” She knows me. Every consultation, every fitting, every piece of silk flown in from the Moretti atelier in Sicily came through me. She doesn’t ask. She just opens her case and gets to work. By the time my hair and veil are nearly done, the two of them finally come strolling down the stairs. The morning sun cuts across the hall and falls right over me. Damien stops dead. The stylist pins the last layer of the veil in place. I lift my skirt, stand, and turn my head slowly to look at him. He pinches the bridge of his nose like I’ve given him a migraine. “Aria. I told you. You’ll get your wedding. Later.” “Be a good girl. Take it off before Cordelia comes down. She’ll throw a tantrum if she sees you in it.” Right on cue, the heels start clattering on the stairs. Cordelia comes flying down, hooks onto his arm, and the second she lays eyes on me she comes unglued. Her finger jabs at my face. “Damien! Today is my wedding! Why is she in my dress?!” Her eyes well up on command. She tucks her chin and her voice goes soft, broken, deliberate. “You know about my mom. You know what she was. I told myself I’d die before I ended up like her. And I still let you have me. I let myself become that woman for you, Damien.” A tear slips down. Right on cue. “Three whole years. And you can’t even give me one wedding day she isn’t standing in the middle of?” Damien drops his head fast and starts murmuring against her hair. Hands fluttering. Panicking. Trying to soothe her. The same way he panicked fifteen years ago, kneeling beside a thirteen-year-old me in the bloodied ruins of the Moretti compound. Bodies still warm. He held me against his chest and swore on his Family’s blood that I would never be alone again. Memory is a cruel thing. I laugh, soft and short, and toss the small leather notebook on the floor between us. “Damien. I don’t need this anymore. Take it back.” If he bothered to look, he’d know exactly what it is. The Vow Ledger. Fifteen years ago we pressed our bloodied thumbs onto the inside cover and started writing down a hundred wishes. He told me, back then, that when we finished the last one, nothing in this world could pull us apart. There are still ten wishes left in that book. I don’t want to finish them with him anymore. “Aria. Good timing.” Damien picks up the leather notebook, smiles, and presses it into Cordelia’s hands like he’s giving her a present. “It’s our little couple’s journal, baby. We finish a hundred wishes together, and we’re locked in. Forever.” He kisses her hair. “The dress is yours. The wedding is yours. All of it.” Cordelia’s tears dry in a heartbeat. She melts back into his chest, looks me dead in the eye, and smiles slow. “Damien, baby. Make her take it off. She’s a bridesmaid. Who said she gets to wear a bride’s dress?” Damien lifts one finger. Three housemaids close in on me, hands already reaching. “Aria. Off.” The stylist looks around, panicked. She opens her mouth to speak. A guard takes her by the elbow before a single word comes out and steers her into the next room. The door clicks shut. The dress weighs a ton. Underneath it I’m wearing nothing but underwear. I look around the room. Guards. Staff. Damien. I tilt my head and smile. “Damien. You sure you want me to take it off right here?”

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A vicious rival deliberately crushed my right hand, shattering every bone in my fingers. Yet my biological father, the most prestigious orthopedic hand surgeon in the entire country, falsified the medical evaluation. Sitting inside the police precinct, he looked the detective dead in the eye and casually dismissed the premeditated attack that permanently destroyed my career. “It was merely a soft tissue contusion caused by an accidental slip and fall,” he declared. He did this for one reason. The mother of the girl who attacked me was his “white peony”—the untouchable high school sweetheart he had secretly pined over for half his life. When I furiously confronted him in the hallway, my father puffed out his chest, wearing a mask of absolute moral superiority. “As a medical professional, I can only rely on objective facts. I cannot exaggerate your injuries just because you are my daughter to falsely frame someone else.” “Chloe is about to compete in the International Piano Concours. If she gets a criminal record, her entire life will be ruined. Can you not just be a decent, forgiving person?” Watching Chloe and her mother strut out of the precinct with smug, victorious smiles, I actually laughed. I reached into my bag, pulled out a legally notarized document severing our father-daughter relationship, and slapped it directly against his chest. “Since you possess such incredible medical ethics and love playing the saint so much,” “I pray your precious high school sweetheart is there to spoon-feed you when you are old and rotting in a nursing home.” 1 My father didn’t even read the document. In his mind, this was just a pathetic temper tantrum fueled by my jealousy of Chloe. “Wendy, have you had enough of this childish drama?” He picked the paper up off the floor and, without so much as glancing at it, tore it in half and dropped it into a nearby trash can. “Ms. Long is hosting a reconciliation dinner at the Sterling Country Club tonight. You are coming with me.” “Chloe will be there. We will all sit down, clear the air, and put this unfortunate misunderstanding behind us.” I stared at him in absolute disbelief. Put it behind us? My right hand was shattered. I couldn’t even lift a paper cup of water. My attacker had just walked free without a single consequence. And he wanted me to attend a celebration dinner hosted by the psychopath who did it? “I am not going.” I spat the words out like venom and pushed the precinct doors open with my uninjured left hand. My father’s suppressed rage hissed from behind me. “Wendy! Why do you have to be so incredibly vindictive?” “Ms. Long is a single mother doing her best. She practically begged me to arrange this dinner to make peace.” “If you do not show up, you are deliberately humiliating me and trying to force those two into a corner!” I didn’t look back. I practically sprinted down the concrete steps, desperate to escape the suffocating presence of this man. Outside, the night wind whipped against my broken hand, sending spikes of pure agony up my arm. My mother’s SUV was idling by the curb. When she saw me walk out, she rushed over. Her eyes were red and swollen, her posture submissive and terrified as always. “Wendy, what happened? Did the detective press charges?” Looking at this woman—who had spent her entire marriage swallowing abuse and acting like a doormat—a wave of total exhaustion washed over me. “No charges. He ruled it an accidental injury.” My mother froze. Tears instantly spilled over her eyelashes. “How… how is that possible? Your father promised me he would make sure Chloe faced the consequences. How could he say it was an accident?” I let out a harsh, dry laugh. “Mom, your husband is the chief of surgery.” “If he says someone had an accident, it was an accident.” “Even if that person just took a hammer to his own daughter’s hand.” My mother wrung her hands nervously, looking around like a trapped animal. “Well… well… your father must have had a very good reason.” “After all, Ms. Long did save his career years ago…” “Stop.” I cut her off sharply. “Drive me to the hospital. I need immediate nerve reconstruction.” My mother hesitated, glancing nervously at her phone screen. “Well… your father just texted me. He said we have to meet them at the Sterling Country Club.” “He said if we do not show up tonight, he is cutting off my bank cards.” I stared at the woman standing in front of me. She was forty-five years old, living like a hollow, soulless accessory. My father controlled every single dollar in her life. She didn’t even have the spine to raise her voice at him. “Then you can go.” I pulled out my phone and requested an Uber. “I will get to the hospital myself.” “Wendy! Please do not do this…” My mother tried to grab my arm, but I stepped back. “Mom, if you still want to be my mother, you will not go to that dinner.” “If you walk into that country club tonight, you can pretend you never had a daughter.” My Uber pulled up. Through the tinted window, I watched my mother standing on the sidewalk, entirely paralyzed by indecision. Finally, she let out a heavy sigh, turned around, and got back into her SUV. She pulled out into traffic, heading straight toward the country club. I closed my eyes. The tears finally fell. This was my family. A father overflowing with toxic sentimentality for another woman, and a mother too weak to function. And me? I was just the disposable collateral damage. When I arrived at my hospital room and finally lay down, my phone started vibrating relentlessly. On Instagram, Chloe had just posted a massive photo dump. In the pictures, she was wearing a custom haute couture gown, sitting elegantly at a Steinway grand piano. My father was standing right behind her, smiling with the warm, glowing pride of a real parent. The caption read: “So thankful for Dr. Ewing’s objective professionalism, and for my mother’s endless support. Vicious rumors can never break a true prodigy! Cheers!” Objective? A true prodigy? Fuck your objectivity. I clicked open the comment section. It was flooded with sickening praise from her wealthy private school friends. “You are amazing, Chloe!” “Dr. Ewing is such a legend! He stood up for the truth instead of protecting his own kid!” “Where is that crippled girl who plays like she is punching cotton? Did she not show up to toast you?” Chloe replied to that comment: “She is probably at home throwing a tantrum and breaking things. Lmao.” I stared at the screen, my left hand gripping the phone so hard my knuckles turned white. Suddenly, a new bank transfer notification popped up. It was from my father. Amount: Two thousand dollars. Attached message: “Stop throwing a tantrum and go buy yourself some nice vitamins. I told Ms. Long she does not need to pay for your physical therapy. Chloe needs the money to travel for her international competition. We need to be understanding.” I stared at those words. My stomach violently churned. I wanted to vomit. I threw my phone against the hospital wall, shattering the screen into a spiderweb of glass. 2 I stayed in the hospital for three days. During those three days, my father did not visit me a single time. Instead, his precious Ms. Long—Audrey—showed up holding a tin of discounted, near-expired butter cookies. She was dressed in a simple but flawlessly tailored vintage dress, wearing an expression of pitiful, tragic innocence as she stood in my doorway. “Wendy, sweetie, I came to see how you were doing.” She placed the cheap cookies on my bedside table and elegantly tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Chloe has been under so much pressure for this competition. She accidentally bumped into you and hurt your hand.” “I already gave her a very stern talking-to.” “And look, your father stepped up and proved Chloe’s innocence. So let us just call the whole thing even, alright?” Even? I looked at the tacky tin of bargain bin cookies, letting out a laugh of pure disbelief. “My hands play Chopin. And you think they are worth a tin of stale cookies?” Audrey’s face stiffened for a fraction of a second before the sickeningly sweet smile returned. “Oh, Wendy, you really should not speak like that.” “Years ago, when your father made that terrible medical error, I was the one who took the fall and buried the scandal for him.” “You have to have a conscience in this world. Look how mature and sensible your father is.” “Besides, your family is loaded. You do not need the money for physical therapy, do you?” “My Chloe is going to play a solo recital at Carnegie Hall. We absolutely cannot have an assault charge ruining her pristine record.” At that exact moment, I finally understood what people meant when they said absolute shamelessness makes you invincible. This mother and daughter were leeches. And my father was the idiot willingly baring his neck, complaining that they weren’t drinking his blood fast enough. “Get out.” I pointed a trembling finger at the door. “Take your garbage cookies and get out of my room.” The fake smile finally slid off Audrey’s face. “You are such a deeply ill-mannered child.” “No wonder Chloe despises you. You really need to be taught a lesson.” She muttered a string of curses, grabbed her tin, and stormed out. Right before she stepped into the hall, she rolled her eyes so hard I thought they might pop out of her skull. Disgusting. Absolutely sickening. That afternoon, the head nurse walked in holding a clipboard. She looked incredibly uncomfortable. “Wendy, your patient account is currently overdrawn.” “If you do not replenish the funds by tonight, we have to cancel your secondary nerve reconstruction surgery scheduled for tomorrow morning.” I froze. “Overdrawn? Didn’t my father… didn’t Dr. Ewing pay the deposit?” The nurse shook her head sympathetically. “Dr. Ewing called yesterday and withdrew the entire two hundred thousand dollar deposit.” “He said… he said the other family had a massive emergency and desperately needed the money to buy a rare, antique violin for an upcoming performance. He loaned the money to them as a bridge loan.” “He instructed us to have you cover your own medical expenses.” Crash. The very last thread holding my sanity together snapped. He withdrew my emergency surgical funds—the money meant to save my hand—to buy a fucking instrument for the psycho who crippled me? What kind of biological father does something so deeply evil? With violently trembling fingers, I borrowed the nurse’s phone and dialed his number. It rang for a long time before he finally picked up. In the background, I could hear a beautiful, soaring violin melody, accompanied by my father’s booming, cheerful laughter. “Hello? Who is this?” “It is me.” Dead silence fell over the line. Then came my father’s incredibly annoyed voice. “Wendy? Where is your phone? Why are you calling from an unknown number?” “Richard, did you withdraw my surgical deposit?” I refused to call him dad. “How dare you speak to me in that tone?” His voice spiked with immediate anger. “Audrey and Chloe are flying to Europe for a massive recital. They need proper instruments to look respectable.” “I figured you are just resting in a hospital bed anyway. Doing the surgery today or next month makes absolutely no difference. So I let them use the funds for an emergency.” “Don’t you have your own money from those little piano gigs you played? Pay it yourself.” “You cannot be this selfish, Wendy. You have to learn to support other people’s dreams.” Support other people’s dreams? He was personally snapping my fingers one by one to roll out a red carpet for someone else! “That surgery was my only window to save my right hand!” I screamed into the phone. “The surgeons said if I miss this golden window, I will never step onto a stage again!” “You gave my medical money to Chloe so she could buy a violin? Are you out of your fucking mind?!” From the background, I heard Audrey’s sickeningly dramatic, fragile voice. “Oh no, Richard… if Wendy truly needs the money, we can hold off on buying the violin…” My father’s voice immediately turned firm and protective. “Audrey, do not listen to her dramatic nonsense.” “These domestic surgeons just love to scare patients to pad their bills. It is not that serious.” “This recital is critical. Chloe is about to be scouted by the Royal Academy. She absolutely needs a world-class instrument.” “Wendy, figure it out yourself. Stop bothering me.” Click. The line went dead. 3 I stood frozen, gripping the phone. The head nurse looked at me with deep pity. “Wendy… do you want to try calling your mother?” My mother? The woman who had to submit receipts to my father just to buy groceries? I shook my head slowly. “No.” “Please process my discharge paperwork.” “But your hand…” “I am not doing the surgery.” If this world was going to be this rotten. Then I was done playing the obedient, perfect daughter. I took a cab back to the house. While the place was empty, I packed up everything I owned that had any real value. I left absolutely nothing behind, except for the notarized document severing my ties to the family. My rare vinyl collection, my custom concert gowns, my gold medals from childhood. I listed every single item on luxury resale platforms. Priced to sell immediately. Cash only. With that money, I rented a small, elevator-access apartment in the neighboring city. Then, I checked myself into a private physical therapy clinic. Because I had missed the surgical window, I would never play high-level classical pieces again. But the doctors told me that if I endured extreme pain, I might regain enough function to feed and dress myself. I used to be the National Youth Piano Champion. Now, I was a cripple who couldn’t even hold a pair of chopsticks without dropping them. But I didn’t shed a single tear. My tears had permanently dried up that afternoon in the hospital. Two weeks later. I was in the middle of a brutal physical therapy session, sweating through my shirt as I tried to squeeze a silicone stress ball. The clinic door was violently shoved open. My father marched in, dragging Chloe and Audrey behind him. His face was completely livid. He was clutching a legal document. “Wendy! Why the hell are you hiding in this dump?” “Do you have any idea how long we have been looking for you?” I completely ignored him. I gritted my teeth and squeezed the silicone ball again. Every flex felt like someone was taking a razor blade to my tendons. Chloe loudly popped her chewing gum, looking incredibly bored. “See, Richard? I told you she was just hiding to cause drama.” “She is so pathetic. She just hurt her hand a little bit. It is not like she is dying.” My father slammed the document onto my bedside table. “Sign this immediately.” I glanced at the header. Waiver of Liability and Non-Prosecution Agreement. It was addressed to the International Concours Committee. “Rumors about Chloe injuring you reached the competition committee. They are threatening to revoke her entry status.” My father spoke with absolute, arrogant entitlement. “If you sign this document admitting that you accidentally crushed your own hand, the committee will reinstate her.” “Chloe is about to win the gold medal. We cannot let a petty little incident like this ruin her entire future.” I accidentally crushed my own hand? I stopped my exercise, turned around, and stared dead into his eyes. “She waited until I was not looking and slammed a fifty-pound solid oak piano lid directly onto my fingers.” “And you want me to say I did it to myself?” “Richard, how can a chief of surgery stand there and spew such absolute garbage?” My father’s eyes darted away for a fraction of a second, but his aggressive posture returned instantly. “If you say it happened that way, then that is the truth.” “I am the chief medical examiner for the board. I know how to make the paperwork align.” “Just sign the damn paper and stop wasting everyone’s time.” Audrey chimed in, her voice dripping with fake concern. “Wendy, sweetie, we are all family here. Why make things so ugly?” “If Chloe gets banned from this competition, how is she supposed to survive in the industry?” “Why do you have such a wicked, jealous heart?” I looked at the three of them. The absolute absurdity of the situation made me sick. “And what if I refuse to sign?” Chloe spat her gum onto the pristine clinic floor, marched over, and violently shoved my shoulder. My balance was already unsteady. I crashed hard onto the floor. My right hand slammed against the hardwood, sending a blinding shockwave of agony straight to my brain. “Ahhh!” I screamed out in pure pain. My father jumped back, instinctively reaching out to help me. But Chloe blocked his arm. “Richard, do not coddle her.” “She is faking it.” “Wendy, listen to me very carefully. You are going to sign that paper today whether you want to or not.” “Otherwise, every time I see you, I am going to break something else.” She raised her designer stiletto, aiming the sharp heel directly at my heavily bandaged right hand. “Stop!” 4 My father finally yelled. Not to protect me. But to protect himself. “Chloe, do not touch her! There are security cameras in here!” He pulled Chloe back and looked down at me with supreme arrogance. “Wendy, I am going to ask you one last time. Are you signing the paper?” “If you refuse, do not ever expect another dime of financial support from me.” “And do not even think about coming back to the house.” I lay on the floor, cold sweat pouring down my face from the pain. But I actually started laughing. “The house?” “The house that drained my surgical funds to buy a violin for my attacker?” “The house that falsified medical records to protect a psycho?” “Richard, I think your memory is failing.” “I legally severed my relationship with you weeks ago.” I used my left hand to pull a backup phone out of my pocket. The screen was glowing red. It was actively recording. “Chloe pushing me to the floor. You explicitly demanding that I sign a fraudulent waiver. You admitting to falsifying medical records.” “I recorded every single second of it.” “This time, I am not letting any of you escape the consequences.” All the color instantly drained from my father’s face. “You… you set me up?” I pushed myself up off the floor, inch by painful inch. Like a bird with a broken wing, but with the dead, hollow eyes of a predator. “You taught me this, Richard.” “As a medical professional, you must only rely on objective facts.” Panic finally set in. As a top-tier surgeon, reputation was the only currency that mattered to him. Chloe’s unprovoked assault in a medical facility. A chief of surgery conspiring to extort a victim into signing fraudulent documents and openly admitting to falsifying medical evidence. If this leaked to the press, his entire career would be instantly vaporized. “Wendy, give dad the phone.” His tone softened dramatically, desperately trying to manipulate me with family ties. “We are family. Let’s just sit down and talk this through.” “Chloe just has a bit of a temper, she didn’t mean to hurt you.” I stared coldly at his outstretched hand. “Chloe, grab the phone!” Audrey shrieked from the corner. Chloe snapped out of her shock and lunged at me like a rabid dog, trying to snatch the device. But I was already prepared. My thumb hit the send button. The video file uploaded straight to my secure cloud server, while simultaneously emailing itself to three high-profile investigative journalists in the classical music circuit I had contacted days ago. “Too late.” I tossed the phone onto the floor. “It is already sent.” Chloe stomped her heel down, shattering the phone screen, and grabbed me by the collar. “You psychotic bitch! You actually set me up?!” Right at that moment, the clinic door was violently thrown open. Three security guards rushed in, followed by my lead physical therapist. “Get your hands off her! What is going on here?!” The doctor saw me bleeding on the floor and exploded in anger. “This patient is in active recovery! This is aggravated assault!” “Call the police! Lock the doors and call 911 right now!” The cops arrived in minutes. Because the assault happened inside a private medical facility, the charges were immediately escalated. Chloe was slapped in handcuffs and dragged out screaming. Audrey threw herself onto the floor, wailing and thrashing, screaming that I was extorting them. My father stood frozen in the corner of the room, looking like a hollow stone statue. He stared at me. There wasn’t an ounce of guilt in his eyes. Only the furious indignation of an authority figure who had been deeply disrespected. “Wendy, you are an absolute disappointment.” His voice was hoarse, but he still tried to maintain his arrogant, authoritative posture. “Are you intentionally trying to destroy Chloe’s life, and destroy your father’s career in the process?” I sat back down on the physical therapy bed as the nurse carefully unwrapped my bleeding bandages. Fresh blood soaked through the gauze, blooming like an ugly, dark flower. I looked up at him. My voice was terrifyingly calm. “Richard, I am not the one destroying your life.” “Your greed, your extreme bias, and your pathetic obsession with your own authority did this.” I paused, offering him a piece of casual advice. “Oh, by the way. Before the hospital board officially suspends you, you should probably hire a very good defense attorney.” “Because I am taking this all the way to federal court.” That exact night, the hidden camera footage exploded across the internet.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “466694”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 I was twenty-eight and single. My parents were desperate, so they called in my married brother, Lucas, to share his secret to finding a wife. “It was pure luck,” he laughed. “No one would believe Victoria and I were pen pals in the 21st century.” Useless advice. I went back to my minimum-wage grind until I cleaned the attic that weekend. Deep in a dusty closet, I found a heavy box of letters Lucas and Victoria wrote as teens. He used the pen name Atlas; she was Aurora. The handwriting was bold and free-spirited. I froze. Atlas was my pen name. Trembling, I dumped the box. Every letter signed Atlas was in my exact handwriting, mixed with Aurora’s sweet replies. Papers fluttered to the floor as my knees buckled. Victoria was my old pen pal? But she didn’t just disappear? When I turned eighteen, right after my birthday, her letters abruptly stopped. I kept writing to her, week after week, but my words vanished into the void. She never disappeared. She just started writing to my older brother instead. I stared closely at the letters signed by Atlas. The tone, the phrasing, the cadence… it was exactly how I wrote. But the handwriting… Lucas had always possessed a terrifying talent for mimicking my script perfectly. Did Lucas… No. It was impossible. I shook my head violently, trying to clear the paranoid thoughts. Outside, the crunch of tires on the gravel driveway snapped me back to reality. I frantically gathered the scattered letters, shoving them back into the bottom of the wooden chest. But because they had spilled everywhere, they were completely out of order. It took me longer than I wanted. Just as I slammed the lid shut, the front door downstairs clicked open. “Guess what I got my amazing husband to celebrate ten years of knowing each other?” It was Victoria’s voice. I stayed frozen in the shadows of the upstairs hallway, listening. Lucas paused, pretending to think. “A new ring?” “Nope.” I heard the soft click of a velvet box opening. Victoria laughed softly. A vintage Rolex was resting inside, customized with a brilliant aquamarine stone set into the dial. It was a rare piece I had recently read about from a Sotheby’s auction. Lucas gasped, taking the box with wide eyes. “Oh my god, babe! It is gorgeous! But what is the occasion for something this crazy?” Victoria’s smile faltered. “Did you forget our promise?” Lucas blinked at her, completely confused. “In our very first year of writing to each other,” Victoria said softly, “you told me that if we stayed in each other’s lives for a decade, I had to gift you a watch with an aquamarine stone. Do you… do you really not remember?” “Of course I do!” Lucas recovered instantly, pulling her into a tight embrace with a loud laugh. “I was just messing with you, babe!” Victoria gently pushed the watch box onto the console table, her tone slightly deflated. “I think someone actually forgot. It feels like I am the only one who remembers the little things from back then.” “I did not forget! Stop making things up! I am sorry, babe. Come here.” Lucas wrapped his arms around her waist, burying his face in her neck. Victoria’s feigned annoyance melted away instantly. A genuine, loving smile tugged at the corners of her lips. Then she looked up, saw me standing at the top of the stairs, and quickly pushed Lucas away. “Simon is here.” Lucas looked up, clearly startled. I stood there, my fists clenched so tightly behind my back that my nails dug into my palms. “Hey, Simon,” Lucas smiled smoothly. Victoria waved me down. “Come look at the gift I picked out for your brother. What do you think?” Looking at that beautifully crafted watch, the words died in my throat. Every single detail was perfect. It was exactly how I had pictured it when I wrote that sentence in my bedroom ten years ago. It was just the wrong man wearing it. “Simon, what is wrong?” Victoria asked, her brow furrowing. “Are you feeling sick?” I shook my head silently. “Well, we did not forget about you. Here, your brother picked out a custom engraved gold pendant for you. For good luck.” A heavy velvet pouch was pushed into my hands. No matter what I wanted to scream in that moment, it was not the time or the place. I took the pouch. I muttered a quiet thank you, turned around, and practically ran back up the stairs. In my panic, I didn’t notice the sharp, suspicious glare Lucas shot at my back. I locked myself in my room for the rest of the day. I pulled out a small, hidden shoebox from under my bed. It was filled with old, yellowed stationery. Letters from Aurora. The letters I had sent after these never received a reply. [You have not written to me in weeks. Did something happen?] [I put twenty bucks in this envelope. I saved up for a while. If your stepmom locks you out of the kitchen again, go buy yourself some pizza.] [It has been three months. If you do not reply soon, I am actually going to be mad. Did you finally get a smartphone? My WhatsApp is…] [I am moving to New York for college! If you still want to write to me, my new address is…] [There is a hundred bucks in here. I actually have a real job now! Please make sure you are eating enough.] I couldn’t read any more. I gathered every single letter, crumpled them up, and threw them straight into my trash can. That evening at dinner, the clinking of silverware stopped when Lucas suddenly spoke up. “Simon. Have you been writing letters to my wife?” My head snapped up. My parents and Victoria looked at Lucas in total confusion. With a loud slap, Lucas threw a stack of crumpled, yellowed letters onto the dining table. They were the ones I had thrown away, mixed with a few unsent drafts I had written to Aurora years ago. Victoria froze the second she saw them. “These… these are my old letters. But I sent these to you, Lucas. Why does Simon have them?” “Simon!” Lucas slammed his hands on the table, glaring at me. “Do you have any idea how sick this is? She is your brother’s wife! Just because you cannot find a woman of your own, you steal my old pen name, forge my handwriting, and try to creep on my wife?!” Victoria picked up the letters with trembling hands. She looked at me with a mixture of shock and profound disgust. “No wonder I felt like your tone was a bit weird for a few months back then. It was you.” “I didn’t!” I tried to speak, but my father violently threw his chopsticks against the porcelain bowls. “Simon! We told you to go out and find a girl! We did not tell you to become a shameless degenerate! Hitting on Victoria? Have you lost your mind?!” “I am not! I just…” Lucas’s furious shouting completely drowned out my defense. Victoria quickly wrapped her arms around Lucas, pulling him close and whispering soft words to calm him down. Then she turned her cold gaze to me. “Simon. I am married to your brother. There is absolutely zero possibility of anything ever happening between us. Do not ever try a stunt like this again.” Without another word, she helped Lucas out of the dining room. Her eyes were filled with nothing but pure concern for her husband. My parents were so disgusted they abandoned their dinner entirely. Within seconds, I was the only one left in the room. The yellowed letters lay scattered across the mahogany table. They felt like they were mocking my absolute helplessness across the span of a decade. “That is not what happened!” I suddenly grabbed the letters and sprinted up the stairs. “Victoria, the truth is I…” I stopped dead right outside their bedroom door. Lucas had his face buried in Victoria’s shoulder. Her beautiful, usually composed eyes were filled with undeniable heartbreak for him. “Shh, it is okay. Do not be upset.” As she comforted him, her own eyes grew red. She reached up and gently wiped a tear from my brother’s cheek. Seeing that absolute, raw devotion… every single word I wanted to say died in my throat. What would telling her the truth accomplish now? I was looking at a wife who loved her husband with every fiber of her being. Even if she found out the origin of their relationship was a stolen identity… would a decade of real, lived-in love just vanish into thin air? I turned around and walked away. As I passed the hallway trash can, I dropped the letters back in. The atmosphere at the breakfast table the next morning was suffocating. I broke the silence. “Dad, Mom. Set me up on a blind date.” My mother choked on her coffee. They knew exactly how much I despised arranged setups. Victoria looked up from her plate, her eyes locking onto mine. “I want to get married,” I said flatly. My mother wiped her mouth with a napkin. “Well, it is about time you came to your senses.” “Yeah.” I looked down at my food. Lucas reached over and patted my shoulder with a forgiving smile. “Simon, I am sorry about yesterday. I lost my temper and did not consider your feelings. I apologize.” “But I am so glad you finally figured things out. Do not worry, I will personally vet the candidates. No more weirdos.” I gave a stiff nod. When I casually glanced up, I caught Victoria staring at me. There was an emotion in her eyes I couldn’t quite decipher. I looked away and kept eating in silence. They found a match for me incredibly fast. Her name was Sloane. We were the exact same age. She was a self-made entrepreneur with a net worth pushing nine figures. I was genuinely shocked my parents managed to pull a candidate like her. And I was even more shocked that someone making minimum wage like me was even allowed in the same room as her. But I didn’t care. As long as I was actively dating, the toxic tension in the house would slowly evaporate. But the night before I was supposed to meet Sloane, Victoria sought me out. I was sitting in the living room with the lights off. Victoria quietly sat down on the sofa next to me. “Have you really thought this through? Are you sure you want to rush into marriage?” I blinked, then nodded. “Look, do not hold a grudge over what happened the other day. I did not mean to be so harsh.” “I am over it, Victoria.” Her gaze lingered on my face for a long, uncomfortable moment. Finally, she nodded. “If she treats you poorly, you come tell me. I am family. I will always have your back.” I paused, looking at her in surprise. She stared right back, her eyes swirling with that same complicated emotion I couldn’t read. Having no other response, I just nodded. “Thank you.” We went back to our respective rooms. But a few minutes later, when I stepped out to grab a glass of water, I heard Victoria’s voice echoing softly from the balcony. She was on the phone. “Yes, he kept his distance tonight. You can go ahead and marry him.” “Of course I am watching out for you. You are my best friend. I would never hand you over to a man with impure intentions.” “Look, I do not care if he still harbors those disgusting fantasies in his head. As long as he keeps them buried and behaves, it is fine.” “Just marry him quickly. I am sick of looking at his face in this house.” “Victoria!” I couldn’t take it anymore. I shoved the balcony door open. “I am not a creep! I never did anything to you!” Victoria whipped around, her eyes widening in pure shock. Through the phone speaker, I heard Sloane’s confused voice. “What is going on over there?” “Nothing.” Victoria instantly hung up. She stepped forward and tried to shove me back inside. “What is wrong with you? I thought you went to sleep.” “I am not the disgusting creep you keep telling everyone I am! Lucas was never your pen pal! It was me! I never hit on you! I never lied to you!” Victoria’s brow furrowed deeply. “What are you talking about?” “I am telling you,” I breathed heavily, “I am Atlas…” Her expression darkened into a scowl. “Victoria, I…” Smack. A sharp, stinging slap landed squarely across my cheek. The door to my parents’ master bedroom swung open instantly. Lucas’s bedroom door down the hall clicked open right after. “What is all that shouting?” “Victoria? Simon? Why are you two out here in the dark?” I held my burning cheek, staring at her in absolute disbelief. “You are completely hopeless,” Victoria sneered, looking at me like I was trash. Lucas rushed over. Seeing the bright red handprint on my face, his expression twisted into pure disgust. “Simon, do not tell me you tried to…” I gritted my teeth. “How can you treat me like this?!” Lucas shoved me hard against the wall. “I literally begged Victoria to set you up with her wealthy best friend, and you still cannot keep your hands off my wife?! Are you that pathetic? You only want women who belong to someone else?!” “I didn’t do anything!” I yelled at the top of my lungs. “I never lied! Who is the real Atlas, Lucas?! You know exactly what you did! You have absolutely no right to judge me!” “You…” Lucas froze, his face draining of color. A second later, a heavy hand grabbed my shoulder and spun me around. My father’s thick, calloused palm cracked across my jaw so hard I saw stars. I collapsed onto the hardwood floor. “Have you no shame?!” my father roared, his face purple with rage. “That is your brother’s wife!” Victoria stood over me, looking down from her pedestal. She pulled Lucas protectively behind her. “Lock him in the basement for a few days,” she said coldly. “Let him think about what he has done.” The family’s private security guards stepped forward immediately. They grabbed me by the arms and dragged me toward the cellar doors. I thrashed wildly. “I am not lying! I am Atlas! Let me go!” Lucas let out a theatrical, choking sob, burying his face in his hands. But right before they shoved me down the dark concrete stairs, I saw Lucas peek through his fingers. He locked eyes with me. There were no tears. Only a cold, lethal threat. I do not remember much of those two days in the dark. At first, I was consumed by a burning rage. Then, total physical exhaustion. By the end, my heart was just dead. On the third afternoon, Victoria unlocked the heavy cellar door. “My husband and I have discussed this.” She emphasized the word husband heavily. “We are willing to keep this little incident a secret from your fiancée. But you are going to sign a non-disclosure agreement.” She dropped a legal document onto the dusty floor in front of me. She looked down at me with eyes made of ice. “From this day forward, you and I have absolutely no connection whatsoever.” I slowly lifted my head. “If you ever cross the line again,” she warned, “I will not care that we are family. I will destroy you.” I stared into her cold, merciless eyes. I picked up the pen with trembling fingers. I signed my name on the dotted line and pressed my thumbprint in red ink. Victoria carefully folded the contract and tucked it into her designer blazer. I was finally allowed out of that suffocating basement. The afternoon sun was blinding. I didn’t care about the pen pal mystery anymore. I didn’t care who Victoria thought she was writing to. Victoria kept her word. During my dates with Sloane, she never said another bad word about me to her best friend. And against all odds, Sloane actually fell for me. I didn’t fully understand why, but my parents were absolutely thrilled and pushed for an immediate engagement. They had two sons. One married the formidable CEO Victoria. The other was marrying the self-made tycoon Sloane. Love didn’t matter. The prestige was enough for them. I had only one condition: after the wedding, I was moving out of the family estate permanently. They agreed without a second thought. The wedding was fast-tracked. That weekend, I was getting married. When the fleet of wedding cars pulled up to Sloane’s private estate, she was sitting in the back of a Rolls-Royce, wearing a breathtaking white gown. She smiled brightly and reached her hand out to me. I didn’t hesitate. I took her hand. Just as I leaned in to lift her out of the car, a frantic voice shattered the romantic atmosphere. “Stop! This is a mistake!” Victoria violently shoved her way through the crowd of groomsmen and photographers. She stood in front of Sloane, completely out of breath. “He cannot marry you.”

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1 Once I made up my mind to divorce Holly, I started keeping my distance. I made sure to stay completely out of her orbit. When she walked over to grab my hand in front of my coworkers, I instinctively pulled away. After work, her sleek black car was parked right outside my office building. I pretended it was invisible, practically throwing myself into the back of a passing cab just to escape. At the airport, a buddy of mine noticed my solo arrival and gave me a weird look. “Why didn’t you ask your wife to pick you up?” he asked, chuckling. “Afraid she’ll get too tired? Or just too whipped to let her deal with the traffic?” I shook my head, my expression flat. “Neither.” He raised an eyebrow. “Things between us aren’t exactly a fairytale right now,” I explained, keeping my voice low. “We are more like strangers who just happen to know each other’s daily routines. honestly, I feel more relaxed making small talk with a random guy on the street than I do sitting in a room with her.” Before the words fully left my mouth, a sharp clatter echoed behind me. I turned around. Holly was standing right there. She wore a perfectly tailored black suit, her face completely drained of color. Her hands, hanging rigidly by her sides, curled into tight fists. A stiff, awkward smile forced its way onto my lips. That familiar, suffocating sense of inadequacy I always felt around her rushed back into my chest like a tidal wave. Holly stared at me, her dark eyes heavy, swirling with a storm of emotions I could not even begin to decipher. Before I could figure out what to say, she closed the distance between us. Her pale hand clamped down on the handle of my suitcase. When I hesitated to let go, her gaze darkened completely. Her voice dropped to a freezing whisper. “Let go of the handle, Chad. Or I swear to God, I will pick you up along with the luggage right here in front of everyone.” I immediately released my grip, taking a massive step back to put air between us. She stared at the empty space between our bodies. The corner of her mouth twitched, and the dark storm in her eyes grew even colder. A few minutes later, I found myself practically shoved into the passenger seat of her car. I told her I needed to head back to the office, arguing that getting out of her luxury car in front of my firm would cause too much gossip. “Thanks for helping with the bags,” I muttered, staring out the window. “But I think it is best if I just catch a cab from here.” The politeness in my voice was strictly business. It was a cold, formal boundary I had not even realized I was building. The drive from the airport to the city center was not terribly long, but the thought of being trapped in a sealed metal box with Holly made my skin crawl. She scoffed softly. “What are you so afraid of? We are legally married. If they see us, we will just take it public.” I kept my head down, my fingers digging into my own palms. There was a time when all I wanted was to go public. But now, with divorce papers looming in my near future, throwing our marriage into the spotlight would only create a chaotic mess. The invisible wall between Holly and me had been built a long time ago. As the CEO of Pinnacle Holdings, she drew a brutal line between her professional empire and her private life. I knew exactly how ruthless she could be, which was why, even at my lowest point, I never begged her for a favor. Not even when I spent months pulling all-nighters for a massive pitch, only to have a senior colleague named Brenda snatch it away with a single smug comment. “My husband’s uncle is an executive at Pinnacle,” Brenda had mocked me in the breakroom. “Even the head of our firm has to kiss his feet. What makes a nobody like you think you can compete with my connections?” The project I had bled for was handed over to someone else the next morning. I admit, I wavered back then. When it came to connections, the entirety of Pinnacle belonged to Holly. She would not even need to show her face. A single text message from her would have been enough to hand me back the project that was rightfully mine. That night, after agonizing over it for hours, I finally swallowed my pride. “I heard your company is planning to invest in our firm?” I asked her, my voice trembling slightly. Holly maintained her usual icy composure. She did not even look up from her laptop, simply offering a dismissive hum of acknowledgment. “If someone at the firm was bullying me, would you have my back?” I asked, trying to sound casual and upbeat, though my palms were slick with nervous sweat. Holly finally looked up. Her heavy gaze locked onto me, her brow furrowing as if to say, Are you actually being serious right now? The silence stretched, making me feel utterly pathetic. I forced a laugh, ready to brush it off as a joke to escape the humiliation. But then she spoke. Her throat bobbed, and her voice was strictly corporate. “Investment choices are made by the board of directors. It has not even been finalized if your firm will make the cut.” She paused, her tone perfectly measured. “And while Pinnacle acts as the financial backer, our absolute core principle is to never interfere with internal personnel decisions.” She made it crystal clear. I did not humiliate myself by asking twice. Holly’s principles were absolute. They bent for no one. I was not her exception. But I never expected that Oliver would be. The day Holly showed up at our office as the lead investor, everyone was buzzing. Oliver was the new guy, entirely parachuted in to take over as the lead director of our department. The whispers spread like wildfire around the cubicles. “What do you think is going on between the new guy and the Ice Queen?” “Our boss has been begging for Pinnacle’s money for a year. Oliver walks in, and suddenly the funds are cleared? You do the math.” “Well, Oliver is gorgeous. It makes sense a billionaire CEO would want him. Did you expect her to fall for one of us corporate drones?” “If she didn’t fall for him, I would seriously question her taste. Right, Chad?” The gossip suddenly targeted me. I pressed my lips together, my voice dropping out of pure insecurity. “I don’t think so,” I mumbled. “I heard CEO Sinclair is married.” A coworker rolled her eyes. “How can you be so sure? Nobody has ever seen this supposed husband. For all we know, Oliver is the secret husband.” “Makes total sense. She came down here personally just to make sure her man wasn’t getting bullied. Why else would she care so much about a mid-level director? If they aren’t sleeping together, I will eat my keyboard.” I froze. I had no response. Nobody knew who I was to her, and I could not exactly explain to my coworkers why my own wife was bending over backward for another man. I wanted to ask her myself. Were your principles not set in stone? Why did they magically disappear for Oliver? “You guys have it wrong,” Oliver said gently one afternoon, stepping into the breakroom with a polite smile. “I am Holly’s ex-boyfriend. We broke up three years ago.” He meant it to sound like an innocent clarification, but to everyone else, it carried a completely different, scandalous weight. Two months prior to that office reveal, Holly had received a midnight phone call. That night, Holly, who had quit smoking years ago, stood on our balcony. The cherry of her cigarette burned a hole in the darkness until the sun came up. When the morning light finally broke, she grabbed her coat and walked out the door. I woke up a few hours later, wrapped in a cold blanket. I called her over and over, but it went straight to voicemail. Even her assistant had no idea where she was. There was a critical shareholder meeting that morning, the kind with millions on the line. Holly, a woman who worshipped her career, skipped it without a word. For weeks after that, she would get calls from an unsaved number. Every time her phone lit up, she would leave the room. One evening, a sickening knot of paranoia got the best of me. I followed her quietly down the hall and stood outside her study. Through the crack in the door, I heard the broken, weeping voice of a man on speakerphone. Holly stood with her back to me, her tall frame rigid. I could not see her face, but I heard the absolute tenderness in her voice as she tried to soothe him. The ghost from her past, the man who dragged my wife out of bed in the dead of night, was Oliver. All the doubt and insecurity I had buried for years finally tore through the surface. I cornered Holly in the underground parking garage the next morning. “He is your ex, isn’t he?” I demanded, my voice echoing off the concrete. “Do you regret it? Do you want him back? Or have you two already been sleeping together behind my back for months?” Holly stared at me. Her eyes were like shards of ice. I pressed my lips together, refusing to back down, matching her freezing glare. The silent standoff sucked all the oxygen out of the damp garage. Assistant Rachel nervously glanced between the two of us, finally stepping forward to break the suffocating tension. “Sir, you are completely misunderstanding the situation,” Rachel pleaded softly. “Aside from that one morning you called me, I have been present for every single meeting between CEO Sinclair and Mr. Oliver.” She swallowed hard. “He has been going through absolute hell lately. A family tragedy, and his own health is failing…” Rachel was the only person in Holly’s professional circle who knew I was her husband. Before she could finish her sentence, Holly snapped her head to the side. She tapped sharply on the car window, cutting her assistant off. “Get in the car, Rachel.” Then she turned her dead eyes back to me. “Did you even use your brain before letting that garbage out of your mouth, Chad?” she asked, her voice dangerously low. “Did you ever stop to think how much it would ruin his life if someone overheard you spreading those vicious rumors?” She got into her car, leaving those words hanging in the exhaust fumes. Her glare had been like a physical blade, twisting straight into my ribs. I had been holding those questions in for weeks. But saying them out loud did not bring me any relief. Rachel’s desperate defense made me wonder if I really had become a paranoid, jealous monster. After that fight, Holly and I entered a brutal cold war. I wanted to talk to her. I wanted to fix it. But she was suddenly always on a business trip. When she was in town, she left before I woke up and returned long after I had gone to sleep. We were ghosts living in the same house. I sent her dozens of text messages. She replied to exactly one. Chad: Are you still angry with me? I didn’t think before I spoke that day, and I was out of line. But we really need to sit down and talk. Are you free tomorrow? Holly: I am not angry. I have to fly to Chicago tomorrow for a summit. We can talk when I get back. Go to sleep early, and stop overthinking things. She claimed she was flying to Chicago. But the very next evening, I received a call from an unknown number. The voice on the other end told me to go to a luxury hotel owned by Pinnacle Enterprises at exactly three o’clock the following day. I arrived ten minutes early. My blood turned to ice when I saw Oliver and Holly walking out of the grand lobby doors, side by side. My hands balled into fists. I marched right up to her, pushing down the absolute rage threatening to choke me. “So this is Chicago?” I spat out. “Is this your business trip? Working hard on a king-sized mattress with your ex?” It was only after the words left my mouth that I realized there were about a dozen Pinnacle executives standing a few feet behind her. Assistant Rachel looked mortified, stepping forward to explain, but Holly shot her a lethal glare, forcing the assistant to step back. Holly waved her hand, dismissing her team. Once we were alone, her brow creased in deep annoyance. The look she gave me was genuinely frightening. “Instead of going through the exhausting effort of stalking me like a lunatic,” she said, her voice dripping with aristocratic disdain, “why don’t you just file for divorce?” She stepped closer, towering over my shattered ego. “Do you even have the guts to leave?” It felt like she had dumped a bucket of freezing water over my head. My entire body went numb. I stood frozen on the pavement, completely unable to move. Holly rubbed her temples, looking incredibly tired. Her tone softened just a fraction, but the impatience was still glaringly obvious. “When you are done throwing your tantrum, find your own way home.” She did not spare me a second glance. She walked right past me, never looking back. I wandered the city streets in a daze for hours that afternoon. Without realizing it, my feet had taken me to the old Sinclair family estate. The old patriarch had never approved of our marriage to begin with. When I told him I was filing for divorce, he did not bat an eye. “Has Holly agreed to it?” the old man asked, sipping his tea. I nodded slowly. “She wants it more than I do.” Now, sitting in the passenger seat of her car, the silence was unbearable. Just as the engine purred to life, Holly’s phone rang. It was Oliver. “Holly, my flight just landed,” Oliver’s soft, warm voice filled the cabin. “Are you here yet? I am waiting by the arrivals gate.” He paused, his voice turning incredibly sweet. “I brought you a gift.” The tenderness in his tone made the air inside the car feel suffocatingly thick. Holly almost violently slapped the dashboard, killing the Bluetooth audio instantly. Whatever Oliver said next was completely cut off. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Holly glance in my direction. She picked up her phone and quickly typed out a voice note. “Something urgent came up. Rachel is at the terminal. Find her.” It all clicked. Holly had driven to the airport today specifically to pick up Oliver. I closed my eyes and leaned my head against the window, pretending to be utterly exhausted. I did not ask questions. I did not badger her with Oliver this and Oliver that like I used to. During the month I had been away on my business trip, the office group chats had been entirely dominated by their names. Whenever we were drowning in deadlines and the whole team had to stay late, Oliver was the only one allowed to clock out at five. “Sorry guys, I have to run,” he would say with an apologetic smile. “CEO Sinclair is waiting outside.” People were furious. We were all grinding our bones to dust, but he got a free pass. Someone from HR, who clearly knew too much, had dropped a massive bomb in the secret group chat. HR Rep: He is the Ice Queen’s favorite toy. On his first day, she personally called our department. Said his immune system is compromised and forbade us from giving him heavy workloads. Coworker 1: Makes sense. If he burns out here, he won’t have the energy to serve her in the bedroom tonight. (Smirking emoji) Coworker 2: Do you think her secret husband knows she is keeping a boy toy on the payroll? HR Rep: Who cares if he knows? He has been hiding in the shadows for years. Clearly the guy has no spine. Holly and Oliver don’t even try to hide it anymore. It’s like they are the real married couple… Holly’s voice suddenly snapped me back to reality. “Oliver has been seeing specialists lately.” “His health is failing. You know this.” My emotions remained entirely flat. I simply nodded my head. The car descended back into a deathly, oppressive silence. Holly opened her mouth a few times, swallowing whatever words she was trying to force out. Finally, she managed to speak. “Was the business trip exhausting?” After I had visited her grandfather that day, I had immediately volunteered to take a colleague’s out-of-state assignment. I stayed away for a full month. Perhaps noticing the house was completely empty, Holly had actually called me three times during that month. I let every single one ring out. According to the old patriarch’s strict conditions, I had to wait two more months before the divorce papers could be legally processed. As a gesture of goodwill, on top of the standard marital assets, the old man promised to wire five million dollars in cash from his personal accounts directly to me. “It was fine,” I answered absentmindedly, mentally counting down the days on the calendar. I did not notice that Holly’s knuckles were turning stark white from how tightly she was gripping the steering wheel. I was just thinking about how I only had four weeks left until I was finally free. “That hotel project last month… it was a last-minute crisis,” she blurted out. “The moment the meeting ended, I flew straight to Chicago. Rachel has my entire flight itinerary and meeting logs. If you want to see them…” Maybe I was losing my mind, but ever since she picked me up, Holly was talking way too much. She was famously a woman of zero unnecessary words. Right now, she sounded desperate to fill the silence. “There is no need,” I interrupted smoothly. “And I apologize. I am sorry for causing such a scene and embarrassing you that day.” It finally made sense. She had been acting so strange because she was worried I was still hung up on the hotel incident. If it was making her this uncomfortable, my public outburst must have really bruised her ego in front of her executives. “From now on, I will…” I began, ready to swear I would never cross her boundaries again. Before I could finish the sentence, Holly slammed her foot on the brakes, jerking the car to a violent halt.

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Everyone in Manhattan society knows Grant Tyler adores me. The icy aristocrat makes a grueling annual pilgrimage to a frozen Himalayan peak just to pray for my health. I thought I was the luckiest woman alive. Then I saw Ruby’s video. My best friend stood on a snowy trail, giggling about a five-year-old hike where she and her lover got carried away. A man’s hand reached in, adjusting her scarf with practiced tenderness. On his wrist was the crimson prayer cord I had braided for Grant with my own hands. Blood turned to ice in my heated living room. Moments later, my doctor walked in. She told me I was two months pregnant. Tears already streaming, I looked up dazed. Please, I choked out, help me schedule an abortion immediately. 1 The doctor froze, her eyes widening in shock. “Hazel, are you absolutely sure?” she asked gently. “Mr. Tyler loves you so much. And given your medical history, this pregnancy is an absolute miracle.” She was trying to talk me out of it. After all, the entire city knew the lore of our romance. Grant once took nineteen stab wounds to protect me from an attacker. When I was critically ill, he abandoned a billion-dollar merger and flew to the Himalayas, kneeling on the jagged rocks with every step he took, begging for my life. His love was a grand, theatrical spectacle that made everyone envious. But sitting there in the clinic, I could not even string a complete sentence together. My throat felt like it was packed with broken glass. My heart hurt so badly I could barely keep myself upright. Seeing my completely devastated state, the doctor finally stopped pushing. She let out a heavy sigh. “I will go make the arrangements.” Once the door clicked shut, I tapped the screen to replay that video. My fingers were shaking so violently I could hardly hold the phone. I opened the comment section. Someone had asked, “How old is your little boy? He is adorable!” Ruby had replied almost immediately. “He just turned five!” I stared at that number. A deafening ringing filled my ears. Five years ago, I was in a horrific car accident. The doctors issued multiple critical condition notices. I was not supposed to make it. Grant, a man of absolute pride and logic, lost his mind. He rushed to the mountains, his palms cracking from the frostbite, his forehead bleeding from kneeling on the ice, praying for me to survive. Eventually, I woke up. Everyone said Grant’s absolute devotion had moved the heavens. I believed them. But the truth was, while he was kneeling in the freezing snow supposedly praying for my life, he was tumbling into the sheets with my best friend. They even made a child out of it. The agonizing pain in my chest threatened to swallow me whole. As my phone screen dimmed, a message notification from Ruby popped up. The last text she sent me was from last night. “Hazel, I am so jealous of you. Grant is such a gentleman. He always looks so restrained and gentle.” “Unlike my husband. I don’t know what has gotten into him lately.” “He goes completely wild every night. He leaves my legs shaking and my back aching, and he absolutely refuses to stop when I beg him.” “I feel like he is going to break me in half.” She followed it up with a few blushing, giggling emojis. Reading those words now made my stomach churn violently. The mysterious husband she had been bragging about was Grant. I gripped the phone tightly, black spots dancing in my vision. In all our years of marriage, Grant was always overly cautious in bed. He was restrained to the point of being entirely vanilla. Once, I bought a very sheer, daring lingerie set. I clumsily practiced some poses I saw online. That night, blushing furiously, I wrapped my arms around his neck and whispered that he could be a little rougher with me. Grant simply frowned and gently pulled my hands away. “Hazel, your health is too fragile,” he murmured. “I am terrified of hurting you.” I used to think that was ultimate cherishing. I thought he loved me too much to lose control. But I was completely wrong. He took all of his loss of control, all his rough passion, and all his heavy breathing. He gave every bit of it to Ruby. A hollow laugh escaped my lips. I laughed until thick tears splattered against my phone screen. A few minutes later, the doctor returned. “Hazel, the surgery is scheduled. Three days from now, at nine in the morning.” 2 After leaving the clinic, my assistant texted to remind me about a charity gala being hosted in my name that evening. I rushed to the venue. As I walked past the VIP lounges, a familiar voice drifted into the hallway. A group of men were laughing and teasing someone. “Grant, how did you finally bear to bring Ruby back to the city?” one of them joked. “Aren’t you worried Hazel will find out?” My feet glued themselves to the plush carpet. I peered through the slight crack in the door. Grant had his arm wrapped casually around Ruby’s shoulders. He chuckled. “Hazel would never in her wildest dreams imagine me stepping out on her.” Another friend leaned forward. “So what exactly is the deal with you and Ruby? The kid is already five. You can’t just keep her hidden in the shadows forever.” Ruby lowered her head, her eyes rimmed with red. Grant glanced at her, his voice softening entirely. “That is why I am planning a private wedding for Ruby.” Ruby’s eyes shimmered with unshed tears, looking like a woman who had suffered in silence for years. Grant reached out and gently held her hand. “I already gave Hazel the public title. Everyone in high society knows she is Mrs. Tyler.” “But the actual wedding ceremony, and the real marriage certificate, I am giving to Ruby.” Ruby leaned into his chest, her voice sweet and fragile. “Grant, I don’t want to break Hazel’s heart. Maybe we should just forget the wedding.” Grant pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head. “You waited in the shadows for five years. I owe you this.” Someone in the room laughed, trying to lighten the mood. “You really have it all figured out, Grant. One is the official wife for the cameras, and the other is your true love hidden in the mountains.” Grant simply smiled. “I will still be there for Hazel. Her health is poor, and she relies on me emotionally.” “Out of twelve months in a year, I will take one month to be with Ruby and our son. The other eleven months, I will be right by Hazel’s side.” “She will never, ever find out Ruby had my child.” The moment those words hung in the air, a broken smile crossed my face. I had never once questioned his devotion. Only in this exact second did I realize how utterly worthless a man’s heart could be. The same Grant who willingly took a knife for me had just driven a blade straight through my chest with his own hands. 3 I could not listen to another word. My chest felt blocked by concrete, the acid in my throat making every breath burn. I did not push the door open. I simply used the wall to support my weight and walked out of the gala without looking back. When I got back to our penthouse, I started packing up every single thing Grant had ever given me. With every item I tossed into the box, a tiny, invisible cut sliced into my heart. All the grand gestures I once viewed as undeniable proof of his love were nothing but a massive, humiliating joke. I taped the cardboard box shut and prepared to drag it out to the trash chute. Suddenly, the front door clicked unlocked. Grant was home. He walked in carrying a small velvet box, his eyes crinkling with that signature gentle warmth. “Hazel.” “I was walking past the boutique and saw this necklace. I immediately knew you would love it.” He stepped closer, reaching out to pull me into an embrace just like he always did. But as he leaned in, a wave of sweet gardenia perfume hit my nose. It was Ruby’s signature scent. A split second later, I noticed the faint, reddish bruise tucked just beneath his collar. My stomach violently rebelled. I shoved him away with all my strength. Grant stumbled back, looking genuinely confused. “Hazel, what is wrong?” I refused to speak. I spun around and walked into the kitchen, desperate for a glass of ice water to suppress my nausea. But when I pulled the refrigerator door open, I froze completely. My favorite jasmine tea was gone. In its place sat rows of coconut water, low-sugar yogurt, and green grapes. Everything Ruby loved. I gripped the handle of the fridge, a suffocating wave of sorrow crashing over me. It wasn’t just Grant’s heart that Ruby had invaded. She had slowly, methodically colonized every corner of my home. My phone buzzed in my pocket. I glanced down. Ruby had just posted a new photo on her social media. The picture showed a massive table covered in glowing velvet jewelry boxes, the diamonds sparkling aggressively under the lights. The caption read: “Hubby spoiled me rotten tonight. He bought every single piece of jewelry at the auction just for me. The organizers saw how much he spent and threw in a bunch of little freebies too!” I stared at the screen, my fingers turning to ice. I zoomed in on the photo. There, sitting neglected in the corner of the table, was a delicate necklace. It was the exact same necklace Grant had just handed me. His thoughtful little gift, the one he claimed he bought just for me, was literally a piece of trash Ruby did not want. Before I could even lock my phone, the comment section refreshed with a new reply from Ruby. She posted a blushing emoji. “I just bought a very special little outfit. Hubby has been begging me to wear it for weeks. Getting ready to reward him properly tonight.” I stared at the words, the overwhelming urge to vomit returning in full force. Grant walked up behind me. He must have noticed my rigid posture, his voice dropping into that soothing, gentle register. “Hazel, are you just exhausted from the gala?” “Let me carry you to bed, alright?” He reached out to support my waist, his touch as gentle as it had been a thousand times before. If I had not seen the hickey, the coconut water, and the pathetic discarded necklace, I probably would have melted into his arms, believing I was the most cherished woman on earth. Before I could say a word, Grant’s phone lit up on the counter. He instinctively glanced down. From my peripheral vision, I saw the photo flash on his screen. It was Ruby, wearing practically nothing but a few scraps of red lace, a teasing slope of her pale shoulder in full view. It was an invitation that required zero explanation. Grant’s hand twitched. He quickly pressed a soft kiss to my cheek. “Hazel, something urgent just came up at the company.” “I have to head out for a bit.” I suddenly reached out, wrapping my fingers around his wrist. My voice was incredibly frail, completely stripped of its usual warmth. “Grant. Please don’t go.” “Just stay here with me tonight. Please.” He looked down at me, a flicker of genuine hesitation crossing his eyes. For one pathetic, agonizing second, I actually thought he might choose me. But then his phone buzzed again. Ruby’s text popped up. “Hubby, I am fresh out of the shower and waiting for you. We can do your favorite position tonight.” Grant closed his eyes briefly, sealing his decision. He gently, meticulously pried my fingers off his wrist. “Be good, Hazel. It is a genuine emergency. I will come right back to you as soon as I handle it.” I watched my hand slip from his grip, my chest throbbing with a dull, sickening ache. Seeing my desolate expression, Grant tried to sweeten the blow, lowering his voice to coax me. “I will make it up to you tomorrow, I promise.” “Haven’t you always wanted to go to the amusement park? I will rent out the entire park tomorrow. Just the two of us all day.” I stared at him blankly. Three years ago, I had mentioned wanting to go to Disneyland. Ruby had gone for a three-day weekend and posted endless grids of photos. In one picture, a man’s muscular forearm was visible, holding a bunch of Mickey balloons for her. Her caption read: “Someone treats me like an absolute princess.” Back then, feeling a little jealous, I had turned to Grant and asked, “When work slows down, can we go to the park too?” He had stroked my hair, his tone endlessly patient. “Of course.” “Once you are fully recovered, I will rent the place out just for you.” I waited. I waited through the spring, and I waited through the summer. I waited so long that the theme park went through three different renovations. Grant never took me. Whenever I brought it up, he would kiss my forehead. “Next time, darling. When I am not so swamped. There are too many crowds, I don’t want you getting exhausted.” It turned out he wasn’t worried about the crowds. He wasn’t worried about my stamina. He simply had no desire to look at castles and fireworks when he had already experienced it all with another woman. My dream was just a convenient “next time” he could push back infinitely. And now, he finally remembered. He used it as a bargaining chip on the very night he was rushing off to sleep with Ruby. Realizing that, a bizarre sense of absolute calm washed over me. All the suffocating bitterness, the nausea, and the sharp pain sank to the bottom of a dark ocean. I looked up at Grant. I looked at the man I honestly believed I would spend the rest of my life with. And I slowly lowered my hand. “Go on.” 4 Once Grant left the penthouse, I dragged the heavy cardboard box out into the hallway. I threw everything down the garbage chute, piece by piece. When I reached the wooden prayer beads, my hands paused. It was the first gift Grant brought back from the Himalayas after I woke up from my coma. His hands had been raw and bleeding from the cold. He had knelt by my hospital bed, his voice completely wrecked. “Hazel, I fought the heavens and won you back.” “I swear to God, I will never let you suffer another day in your life.” I had hugged him and sobbed, genuinely believing this man had wrestled my soul back from the afterlife. I wore those beads against my skin for five solid years. Looking back now, it was utterly laughable. If the heavens were truly watching, they would have known that when he was kneeling in the snow, his heart was already split in two. Grant returned the next morning as the sun was coming up. The cloying scent of Ruby’s perfume was practically baked into his clothes. He walked into the bedroom, stopping dead when he noticed the closet was half empty. “Hazel, where are your things?” I looked at him, parting my lips to answer. His phone started ringing. Ruby’s name flashed brightly across the screen. Grant instinctively hit ignore. Noticing my pale complexion, he reached out to check my temperature. “Are you feeling sick again?” Before his fingers could even brush my forehead, the phone rang again. This time, it was a FaceTime call. Grant hesitated for two agonizing seconds, then turned away from me to answer it. He didn’t close the bathroom door all the way. Through the gap, I saw Ruby standing in front of a mirror, wearing a breathtaking white wedding gown. Her eyes were puffy. “Grant, do I look okay?” she asked nervously. “It feels a little tight around the waist.” Grant’s entire demeanor instantly melted into a puddle of devotion. “You look absolutely perfect. Don’t let them alter it.” “You look stunning in everything you wear. Tonight, I want you waiting in bed wearing nothing but that dress…” When the call finally ended, I slid a manila folder across the nightstand. It contained the signed divorce papers. “Grant, I need to tell you—” Grant snapped out of his daze, realizing I was still sitting right there. He reached out and stroked my cheek. “Hazel, once I wrap up this massive project, I promise we will go to the theme park.” I looked at him and let out a soft, airy laugh. “There is no need.” Grant didn’t understand what I meant. And he didn’t have the time to figure it out. Because Ruby sent him a voice memo. This time, a sweet, childish voice echoed from the speaker. “Daddy, when are you coming? Mommy said we are taking family photos today!” Grant’s body went entirely rigid. He looked up at me in absolute panic, terror flashing in his eyes. But he quickly forced it down, masking it with a frantic business tone. “Hazel, I really need to run out again.” I sat in silence as he practically sprinted to grab his jacket. I watched him rush out the door without ever glancing down at the divorce papers resting on the table. The moment the front door slammed shut, I grabbed the papers and shoved them into my purse. There was no point leaving them here anymore. On the third morning, exactly at nine o’clock, I walked into the operating room. Just as the anesthesia began to make my vision swim, my phone buzzed on the tray beside me. It was a text from Ruby. “Hazel, my hubby was completely feral last night.” “When things got really intense, he used that little braided charm you made him to spice things up. It completely pushed him over the edge. He lost his mind.” She attached a photo. It was a messy hotel suite, expensive lingerie scattered across the carpet. The crimson prayer cord was tossed carelessly onto the edge of the mattress. The intricate knots were completely stretched and ruined, the silk threads stained with cloudy, dried fluids. It was the cord I had spent weeks braiding for him, my fingers cramping as I recovered in my hospital bed. I stared at the photo, a single tear slipping from the corner of my eye. Right before the drugs dragged me into darkness, a final thought drifted through my mind. My devotion, my prayers, my desperate hopes for his safety. To them, it was just a cheap, dirty prop to get them off. As the cold liquid pushed through my IV, I rested my hand flat against my lower stomach. Soon, it would be entirely empty. Just like the space in my heart that Grant used to occupy. At three in the afternoon, I boarded a flight out of the country. Because I left in such a rush, my medical files and post-op paperwork were left sitting on the clinic counter. When the nurse realized I was gone, she dialed the emergency contact listed on my intake form. The line connected. The background noise on the other end was incredibly loud. The nurse hesitated, but spoke up anyway. “Hello, is this Mr. Grant Tyler?” “Miss Hazel just finished her abortion surgery. She left some important medical files behind. Could you please come pick them up?”

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1 Everyone knew Ronan Blake and I had loved each other down to the bone. To save me, he once left the only vial of antivenom in my hands and waited for death himself. To protect him, I once used my body to block a kidnapper’s knife and took a fatal blow meant for him. Everyone believed we would spend our lives together. But the day after he proposed, I broke up with him without warning and married Derek Langford, the man who had been pursuing me for years. Even after I betrayed him, Ronan never hated me. He still loved me like before. Later, when my daughter was in a car accident, he broke one of his own legs to save her. Derek had once despised Ronan to the bone, yet even he was eventually moved by Ronan’s love for me and became close friends with him. After Ronan was accidentally diagnosed with a terminal illness, Derek insisted on donating a kidney to him. But when I heard the news, I turned cold at once. “Derek Langford, if you insist on giving one of your kidneys to Ronan Blake, then we’re getting divorced immediately.” Derek told me not to worry about him. My daughter cried and begged me to save Uncle Ronan. But I looked straight into Ronan’s affectionate eyes and laughed coldly. “What I want is for Ronan Blake to die with no grave to lie in.” “If you dare give him even half a kidney, I’ll leave you completely, even if it means giving up custody of Ella.” “Save him or choose me. Decide for yourself.” The hospital room went deathly silent. Derek stared at Ronan, then at me. “Audrey, this isn’t the time to make a scene.” “I know you’re afraid I’ll misunderstand your relationship with him. I admit I used to think the worst.” “But he broke a leg saving our daughter. If we stand by and let him die, that’s too cold-blooded.” The elderly woman in the same ward nodded and looked at me reproachfully. “Exactly.” “Ms. Vale, we’ve all seen how good Mr. Blake has been to you.” “Even if you married someone else and no longer love him, you don’t need to be this cruel and cut off his last chance.” After I said those harsh words in the ward, I drove straight home. The moment I walked in, I saw my parents and Derek’s parents sitting in the living room, their expressions grave. When my mother saw me, she was about to speak, but Derek’s mother stopped her. She sighed and looked at me helplessly. “Audrey, we all know about Ronan.” “Are you refusing to let Derek help him because you’re worried we’ll think something happened between you and Ronan?” “If that’s the reason, don’t overthink it.” “We watched Ronan grow up too. Even though you two were together before, we won’t misunderstand.” “Derek doesn’t mind, so why are you so against it?” Looking at her open-minded expression, I said nothing and turned to leave. But my mother rushed over and grabbed my arm, her face darker than a storm cloud. “Audrey, how did you become so heartless?” “Back then, you dumped Ronan without warning and married Derek less than a month later. Any other man would’ve hated you to death.” “But Ronan not only didn’t hate you, he’s treated you and Derek well all these years. Where else can you find such a good man?” “Do you know both you and Derek are compatible kidney donors for Ronan? But he refused to use yours no matter what.” “Even if you don’t love him anymore, for the sake of everything he’s done for you, you shouldn’t cut off his way to live.” I pushed my mother’s hand away and smiled at her anxious face. “So what? Did I force him to be good to me?” “Because of him, Derek and I have fought countless times over the years. Ronan knows that better than anyone.” “A curse like him can die for all I care. Once he’s dead, my life will finally be quiet.” “You want me to save him? Dream on.” The moment I finished, my mother slapped me hard. Her eyes were red as she pointed at me, trembling with fury. “You animal. You heartless animal.” “How did I give birth to such an ungrateful daughter? You don’t appreciate someone’s kindness, and now you want to kill the person who helped you.” I held my cheek, forcing down the sting in my nose. Before I could argue, Derek’s mother pulled me aside to calm things down. She sighed, comforting my mother while advising me. “Audrey, I’ve watched you grow up. I know you’re a good girl.” “Tell me honestly. Are you hiding something? Or did Ronan hurt you by being with another woman, and that’s why you’re being so cruel?” I glanced at her and sneered. “I can’t speak for anything else. But when Ronan and I were together, he never touched another woman.” Derek’s mother looked confused. “Then why do you hate him so much? He lost a leg saving Ella, and you still won’t forgive him?” I forced down the emotions surging in my chest. “Forget losing a leg. Even if he had died for Ella, that would still have been what he owed.” “As for the kidney donation, my position is clear.” “If Derek donates to him, I will divorce him.” “If any of you helps Ronan find a compatible kidney, I’ll retaliate to the end.” “If you don’t mind making an enemy of me, go ahead and try.” Then I left. After all, the Vale family was now under my control. No matter how much my parents disagreed, they would not truly dare fall out with me completely. As for the Langfords, several of their major deals were in my hands. They wouldn’t dare act rashly either. When I got into the car, my young assistant finally could not hold back. “Ms. Vale, I really am curious. Why are you so determined?” “From what I saw before, you and Mr. Blake really seemed to have deep feelings. And Mr. Langford doesn’t even mind, so why are you so…” I looked at her and said word by word, “Because I once truly loved Ronan Blake. That is exactly why I have to watch him die.” My assistant was stunned. “Did Mr. Blake do something to betray you?” I froze suddenly, as if something had struck me. My chest ached with a hollow pain. After a long while, I lowered my head and laughed at myself. “No. Ronan loved me deeply. He never betrayed me.” “When I accepted his proposal, I truly wanted to spend the rest of my life with him.” But now, everything had changed. Now, I only wanted Ronan Blake to die. It was late at night when I returned home alone. But the moment I stepped into the bedroom, my smile froze. Derek sat on the bed, looking at me quietly. Everything in the room had changed. On the desk were books Ronan liked to read. The flowers in the vase had been replaced with wild roses, Ronan’s favorite. And in front of Derek was an empty medicine bottle. I stayed silent, but Derek did not let me ignore it. “Audrey, have you really forgotten all these things?” “Even if you forgot everything else, you wouldn’t forget this, would you?” He tapped the medicine bottle and sighed, his expression grave. “I really hated Ronan before, especially when we first got married.” “It’s ridiculous now, but back then, I misunderstood your relationship and even challenged him to a fight.” “No matter how I hit him, he didn’t fight back. In the end, he showed me this.” “Only then did I learn that when the two of you went exploring in the rainforest, you were both bitten by venomous snakes, but there was only one vial of antivenom.” “He gave it to you and nearly died from the venom himself.” “After that, I understood that he truly loved you. No matter what I did, I couldn’t compare to him.” “But I also knew that without him, you wouldn’t be here now. So to me, he really is a benefactor.” He stood and wrapped his arms around my waist, sighing beside my ear. “Audrey, I don’t know why you broke up with him so abruptly back then. But believe me, I’m willing to save him.” “I swear I won’t do anything during surgery to harm him.” “You don’t have to worry that he’ll ruin our marriage. You don’t have to worry I’ll hurt him either.” “Let’s help him, okay?” Derek sounded so sincere that I almost felt moved. But I only stayed silent, staring at that little medicine bottle until tears nearly fell. I had never forgotten. Back then, when I thought I was going to die and saw Ronan leave the chance to live to me, I had loved him and hurt for him all at once. So I did not hide it. “Derek, I admit that even now, I haven’t completely forgotten Ronan.” “I remember how good he was to me. I remember every moment we shared.” “You could say I still love him.” But the next second, I shoved Derek away and said coldly, “And that is exactly why I must send him to his death.” “Only when he dies can my life return to normal. Only then can our marriage continue.” Derek looked at me with a complicated expression. After a long while, he said slowly, “Audrey Vale, to cover your guilty conscience, you want someone who loves you to die.” “I’ve lived with you for five or six years. How did I never realize your heart was this vicious?” “If I block your path one day, will you treat me like this too?” I could not be bothered with him and was about to leave. But my four-year-old daughter, Ella, suddenly pushed open the door. Her eyes were red as she rushed into my arms. “Mommy, please save Uncle Ronan, okay?” “Uncle Ronan was hurt so badly because he saved me. I don’t want Uncle Ronan to die.” I looked at the daughter I had once loved most and smiled coldly. “Is that so?” “Too bad. Your Uncle Ronan is going to hell soon.” I turned to leave, but as I brushed past Ella, I accidentally knocked into her. She fell to the floor and immediately cried in pain. Derek picked her up at once, glaring at me. “Audrey, Ella is just a child. Why would you say something so cruel to her?” “Ronan and I were both blind. How did we ever fall for a woman like you?” “You don’t deserve to be Ella’s mother.” Ella curled in Derek’s arms, crying like her heart was breaking. The way she looked at me became rejecting and hateful. “Mommy is bad. Ella doesn’t want bad Mommy.” “Uncle Ronan is ten thousand times better than Mommy. Ella wants Uncle Ronan.” Listening to that sharp, piercing childish voice, I suddenly felt every bit of irritation I had suppressed rush up. I turned and said harshly to Ella, “Fine. You can go to him right now.” “Once I freeze all your bank cards, you can go starve with your Uncle Ronan.” Ella immediately went quiet. But her red eyes still glared at me fiercely. Derek looked utterly disappointed. “Audrey, do you have any humanity left?” “You’re this cruel even to your own daughter?” I laughed coldly, unmoved. “I said whoever stands on Ronan’s side is my enemy. Ella is no exception.” “Derek, are you addicted to wearing a green hat? You’d rather fall out with your own wife just to save the man who pursued me.” “Or do you have some filthy little kink?” Derek’s face changed instantly. A flicker of guilt also passed through Ella’s eyes. I ignored them and went straight to a hotel. On the way, my assistant told me that the last of the Blake family’s assets had been swallowed by Vale Group. Seeing my unrestrained smile, she still looked confused. “Ms. Vale, do you really have no feelings for Ronan Blake anymore?” I shook my head. “No. From beginning to end, the only person I have ever loved is Ronan.” My assistant was even more confused. “Then why won’t you let Mr. Langford donate his kidney to Mr. Blake?” “The damage would be to Mr. Langford’s body, not yours. Why do you care so much?” My gaze turned sharp and cruel. “Loving Ronan and wanting him dead do not conflict.” “Now all of the Blake family’s assets are under my name.” “It’s time to reveal this grand performance.”

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1 After my cool, untouchable stepbrother lost his memory, I coaxed him into being my devoted little dog for half a year. The moment I heard he had gotten his memories back, I packed cash overnight and ran. I traveled the world. Somewhere along the way, I also had a baby. Years later, I was on a beach with my son, playing the part of a devastatingly gorgeous hot mom, when my brother appeared out of nowhere with a storm-dark face. The second he saw the child, his usual icy composure shattered. “Summer Pierce,” Dorian Blackwell said hoarsely. “How dare you?” My stomach dropped. I thought he had figured out the child was his. Then I heard him grit out, “Where is the boy’s father?” “I kept you beside me since you were little. I was so afraid some useless pretty boy would trick you that I barely let you hold a boy’s hand. And that bastard dared to make you suffer this much?” Before I could speak, his hand moved toward the gun at his waist. “Forget it. I don’t want to hear it. This is my fault for not protecting you. That bastard can die.” Wait. So he had forgotten everything I did to him back then? The day Dorian recovered his memory had come without warning. I had no time to react. The night before, he had taken too long helping me clean up in the bath. My waist still ached, my legs were still weak, and I still had to run to the study and drag out a suitcase full of cash. I couldn’t use cards. Dorian would find me in minutes. A man that spotless, that cold, that proud, had been coaxed by me into acting like my devoted pet for half a year. With his temper, even if he couldn’t bear to kill me, he would peel off a layer of my skin. At first, he hadn’t wanted to go along with it. In the hospital bed, Dorian had looked like a blank sheet of paper. His eyes were damp and confused. “Miss,” he asked softly, “who am I? And who are you?” Miss? What a ridiculous reversal. After years of pretending to be the obedient little sister, I took a deep breath and, for the first time in my life, felt wicked. I smiled at him in my white dress. “You? You’re my puppy.” He turned his face away. That cold, distant face of his flushed with an unnatural red. “I’m a person,” he said. “Not a puppy.” Oh? So even without his memories, shame was still there. That wouldn’t do. I stepped closer, lifted his chin with my fingers, and coaxed him gently. “Dorian, when I call you my puppy, I’m not treating you like a toy.” “It means that from this moment on, you can depend on me completely. And you’ll have all of my love.” His clear eyes stared at me without blinking. None of his usual coldness or severity remained. That newly built pool really had done a number on him. One fall, and it had washed his memory clean. I smiled. “You don’t want all of my love?” He didn’t answer. But a soft, damp kiss landed on the fingertip beneath his chin. The feeling shot straight up my spine. I pushed my luck. My fingers pressed between his lips, coaxing the answer out of him. His voice, usually so clean and cold, came out blurred. “I do.” He tilted his head back instinctively, meeting me halfway, his beautiful brows faintly drawn together. I was satisfied. I climbed onto his hospital bed and curled myself into his arms. He hesitated for only a second before wrapping himself around me. The familiar scent of mint mingled with disinfectant. Someone’s heartbeat thundered so loudly that I didn’t even hear the knock. Mr. Reed, Dorian’s most trusted assistant, came in holding a medical report. “Sir, the doctor said…” The warm body around me tightened at once. I didn’t think much of it. A person with amnesia would naturally be frightened by strangers. I only patted Dorian’s back and glanced at Mr. Reed. “Wait outside for me, please.” The boss was the boss. But the little boss was still a boss. Mr. Reed’s gaze flicked quickly from Dorian to me. Then he understood. “Yes, Miss Pierce. I’ll wait outside.” Dorian’s accident had happened that morning, when he went alone to inspect the hotel’s newly built pool. The surveillance footage showed him slipping into the deep end. His head hit the steps, and he lost consciousness. He nearly drowned. Honestly, the Blackwell ancestors must have been burning incense in heaven. Losing his memory was already the lightest possible outcome. I used the accident to make Mr. Reed temporarily take over company affairs. Anything that required Dorian’s signature would come to me first. Mr. Reed looked troubled. I lifted one finger. “Should the boss have been inspecting that pool alone?” “No.” “And now that something has happened to him, shouldn’t someone be responsible?” “Yes, but…” “And since responsibility must be taken, and since the boss is physically unwell, shouldn’t you help share his workload?” Mr. Reed opened his mouth to argue. Then his eyes accidentally shifted into the hospital room, and his whole body shuddered. I wondered what he had seen. When I turned around, I only saw Dorian sitting obediently on the bed. Like a puppy quietly wagging his tail. My heart almost melted. “Yes, Miss Pierce,” Mr. Reed said. I brought Dorian back to the old house where we had grown up. After his father passed the company to him, he took my mother and traveled the world. Even when they came back, they stayed at the seaside villa, rarely at the old mansion. That was perfect. If no one was around, I could be far less restrained. Dorian was six years older than me. Elegant, tall, and impeccably disciplined. He had never neglected his body. When I lifted the hem of his shirt, veins stood out against the taut, pale muscle of his abdomen, making my mouth go dry. To be honest, I used to be afraid of him. He was always putting me in time-out. When we were children, his father and my mother were both busy. Sometimes we wouldn’t see them for a whole week. Dorian, still a child himself, had to be both parent and older brother to me. The first time I took an exam in first grade, I scored a zero in math. It needed a guardian’s signature. I brought it to Dorian. Without a word, he locked me in the study and told me to reflect. Reflect on what? On how the turtle I drew on the test paper wasn’t as good as the one in my notebook? I didn’t understand. The second time, I learned my lesson. My deskmate told me he had scored one hundred, and when he got home, both his parents kissed him. I thought, if one hundred got that kind of treatment, then I might as well add a one before my zero and a bunch more zeros after it. When I brought it home, Dorian fell silent. No matter how hard I howled in the study that night, he didn’t let me out. Until I finally ran out of tricks and softened my voice. “Dorian…” The study door opened a crack. Dorian said he was punishing me, but he was always waiting outside the door. Once I realized that, I began to act sweet. When thunder rolled, one call of “Dorian” let me crawl into his mint-scented bed. When I was picky and greedy, one call of “Dorian” made him cook whatever I wanted. When I didn’t want to go to school, one call of “Dorian” let me sleep at home all day. Then adolescence came, and my feelings for Dorian changed. Living under the same roof as that face made it very hard not to fall. One boy in class bet me that if he dyed his hair yellow, he would look better than my brother. I rolled my eyes. To prove him violently wrong, I skipped school with him and climbed over the wall to a salon. One yellow head and one pink head were born. And the first person we ran into was Dorian, home early from college. He had one hand on the steering wheel, his face dark, his eyes fixed on me. I rarely heard him call my full name. “Summer Pierce. Get in the car.” Sure enough, even angry, my brother was gorgeous. Before I died, I still elbowed the yellow-haired boy beside me. “See? You’re still not as handsome as my brother.” His voice trembled. “Y-yeah, but I think your brother is about to kill me… Oh no, he’s getting out.” After I went to college, Dorian entered the family company. His temperament grew steadier, his methods sharper. Only with me did he remain indulgent without limit. The year I graduated, my family began choosing suitable marriage prospects for me. I refused and used Dorian as an excuse. “Dorian hasn’t even married yet. Why am I in such a hurry?” My mother took a sip of tea. “Once we find the right girl from the right family, your brother’s marriage will be settled too.” “In marriages like ours, interests come first. If affection grows later, that’s a bonus. Your brother understands life better than you do.” A sour, vicious feeling rose inside me until I almost drowned in it. I suddenly realized all the tenderness he gave me would be given to another woman too. Maybe even more. He would marry her. Let her invade his private space. Sleep beside him. He would take off his crisp suit and cook for her to suit her tastes. He would hold her close. Let her explore him further. And I would not allow it. So now, while Dorian had no memories, I pushed him onto the desk in the study and asked him again and again, “Are you my puppy?” Dorian had never had a girlfriend. His romantic history was blank. So was the rest of him. He tried to retreat, overwhelmed. The question was too intimate. It sounded like I was asking, Can I bully you? And his silence was the invitation he handed me himself. My terrible temper had all been spoiled into me by Dorian. To outsiders, I was just a pampered rich girl. Only in his eyes was I terribly obedient. Unfortunately, after I grew up, I saw the way Dorian handled business. No matter how much he indulged me, a rebellion like this, devouring him whole while standing beneath him in name, was something I never would have dared to do. Thank God he remembered nothing. He fell into my trap only because of instinctive familiarity and trust. Dorian was smart. He learned many things quickly. Including intimacy. Even after I ran, I dreamed of it several times. Thankfully, I was open-minded. If I had slept with the person I liked, that was enough. I had food, clothes, and money. Going back meant either a business marriage or death. Only an idiot would walk into death. I wanted freedom. By the time I reached the third country, I found out I was pregnant. I was afraid of pain and afraid of dying. Giving birth cost me half a suitcase of cash. Luckily, little Ari had been sensible since the womb. Even in a foreign country, he didn’t make me suffer much. When he was just over two, I resumed my trip around the world. The beaches of Croatia were perfect for photos. I held Ari’s hand and played the world’s hottest mom. A handsome model who was clearly also from back home happened to be working nearby. Shamelessly, I borrowed his photographer. Unexpectedly, the handsome man was even more generous. He lent me himself too. With Ari in one arm and my other hand resting on the model’s abs, I smiled so hard my face hurt. Only Ari kept pouting. So young, yet so old at heart. Exactly like his father. Before the model left, he added me and said he would send me the photos. I held Ari’s hand and walked along the sand a little longer. Then I noticed fewer and fewer people around us. Someone was gesturing, ushering them away. I realized something was wrong. I scooped Ari up and was about to run. Then Dorian appeared, his face dark as a storm. The moment he saw the child, his icy expression cracked completely. His beautiful eyes flushed red. “Summer Pierce,” he said. “How dare you?” The more I looked at father and son, the more alike they seemed. Guilty, I instinctively hid Ari behind me. Dorian clenched his jaw. “Where is the boy’s father?” “I kept you beside me since you were little. I was so afraid some useless pretty boy would trick you that I barely let you hold a boy’s hand. And that bastard dared to make you suffer this much?” Before I could speak, his hand moved toward the gun at his waist. “Forget it. I don’t want to hear it. This is my fault for not protecting you. That bastard can die.” Wait. He really had forgotten everything I had done to him? I followed Dorian back home. Mr. Reed told me Dorian had recovered all his memories, except for that half year. It was gone clean. Over the years, he had tried every treatment. Machines, therapy, even electric stimulation. Nothing worked. His treatment logs filled several thick books. I frowned when I heard that. “If he can’t remember, then let it go. Why force himself like that?” Mr. Reed shook his head. “Probably because the emotional control he was so proud of suddenly collapsed, and he didn’t even know why.” Before he could finish, my tablet was taken from my hands. Dorian’s voice was cold. “Mr. Reed. Are you very free?” The other end went silent. Then Dorian’s suspicious gaze landed on me. He was like a man surrounded by alarms. “Summer Pierce. Didn’t I tell you not to think about running?” I sighed helplessly. “My dear brother, does chatting count as running?” To prevent me from seeing the imaginary man he had invented in his head, Dorian imprisoned me in the old house where I had once imprisoned him. What goes around really does come around. The ankle-chain hooks I had specially installed for him back then were now all used on me. The old house was at least an hour from the company. Dorian simply moved his work back to the mansion. After years outside, suddenly returning to a life where meals appeared, clothes appeared, and someone helped take care of the child felt amazing. I ate and slept in the old house every day. Dorian still didn’t trust me. He thought this was my delaying tactic. He brought me to the study and, in front of me, opened a hidden room. It was airtight. I had never seen it before. Dorian frightened me on purpose. He said he had spent three years building it. The walls were made of special sound-absorbing material. Even if I screamed my throat raw, no one would find me. If I dared run, he would lock me inside forever. “Summer, don’t even dream of going back to that man.” He said it while anger reddened the corners of his eyes. I couldn’t help teasing him. “Then can I only look for you?” Dorian answered without thinking, “Of course.” I laughed so hard I couldn’t stand and fell onto the soft carpet. This carpet had been laid overnight after Dorian discovered I was always walking barefoot around the old house. Through his dress pants, I touched his calf. Wherever my fingers brushed, he trembled. “Summer,” he said, voice tight. “Let go. I’m your brother.” I smiled wickedly and lifted my eyes to him. “You drove my husband away. Shouldn’t you compensate me with yourself?” The air went silent. The man I had been teasing a moment ago was suddenly wrapped in danger. His eyes narrowed. Half warning, half threat, he said, “Summer Pierce, if you dare say that again, I’ll throw you into international waters for the sharks.” “I’m your brother.” The last sentence came low and restrained, as if he was saying it to me and to himself. I was still a little afraid of him. So I scrambled up from the floor, patted myself off, and muttered meekly, “Fine. I won’t say it. Who’s scared?” Dorian stayed beside Ari and me almost twenty-four hours a day. Even during meetings, the two of us had to be within fifteen feet of his line of sight. Thankfully, Ari liked him very much. When we both appeared, he only wanted Dorian to hold him, not me. Ungrateful little brat. Fine. Letting your mother rest counts as filial piety. During a morning video meeting, Dorian wore a perfect suit from the waist up, while below the desk, Ari crawled everywhere and nearly tugged his trousers off. I laughed quietly nearby. One moment of inattention, and Ari hugged Dorian’s knee and climbed straight up. A little watery-eyed head appeared on the video call. I rushed over to pick him up, only to discover that everyone else had already left the meeting except Mr. Reed. Just as I was about to breathe a sigh of relief, Mr. Reed asked in delight, “Sir, whose baby is that? He looks quite a bit like you.” The words struck like thunder. I froze. Dorian lifted his head and looked at me suspiciously. Damn it.

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1 “Grace, I’ll have to trouble you again this time.” Monica Shaw’s voice drifted over, casual and entitled. I closed the handoff log in my hands and turned to meet her eyes. “What do you mean?” “I got into next week’s marathon. I talked it over with Dr. Harding, and we both think it’s best if you stay.” She smiled as she flattered me. “You’re the best nurse in our department. If you’re here, I feel much more at ease.” There were seven or eight people at the nurses’ station. Not one of them said a word. Five years. I had almost never adjusted shifts for time off. The hospital was already too busy to breathe. To support Monica’s dream, nearly every nurse at our station had covered shifts for her. I had covered the most. This year, my fiancé insisted I take a few days off no matter what so we could shoot our wedding photos. For those three days, I had worked ahead for a whole month, bought milk tea for the entire department to swap shifts, and even gotten Dr. Harding’s signature. But just as I was about to leave, Monica came over with an announcement, telling me to stay and cover for her. “I can’t cover it.” I pushed the handoff book aside. My volume didn’t change, but every word was clear. Monica froze. She clearly hadn’t expected the department’s easiest pushover to suddenly grow a spine. “Monica, can you skip this marathon?” I tried to keep my tone negotiable. “My wedding shoot already has a five-thousand-dollar deposit. We booked it half a year ago. My fiancé even pushed back a project for these few days. The photographer’s schedule is nearly impossible to adjust.” Monica tossed the IV labels in her hand onto the desk. “Grace, honestly, you have no sense of commitment.” She turned around, her face impatient. “The marathon was set a year ago. The sponsors have already printed my jersey. You suddenly insist on taking wedding photos now? Aren’t you deliberately making things hard for me?” Making things hard for her? I was so angry I almost laughed. In five years, I had gone from intern to backbone of the department. The most difficult patients, the pickiest doctors, in the end they all came to me. Most of the thank-you banners hanging on the nurses’ station wall had my name written on them. Over eighteen hundred days, I had never taken a full holiday. And Monica? She entered the hospital the same year as I did, but she still often missed veins when starting an IV. Yet thanks to running marathons everywhere, she had built herself a sunny-goddess image. For two years straight, the Excellent Nurse award had gone to her. Paula, the head nurse, saw I was about to speak again and hurriedly tugged me aside. “Grace, come out with me.” “Grace, how about this?” Paula tried to coax me. “You cover one day for her, and I’ll cover another. We’re colleagues. Don’t make things ugly.” Looking at Paula, I felt fire trapped in my chest. “Paula, you know better than anyone. For this break, I practically lived in the department last month.” “And all the messes Monica caused lately, wasn’t I the one cleaning them up? Bathing patients, turning them, calming families.” Paula sounded like she was defending herself. “I had already arranged your shift. But Dr. Harding personally called. He said the nurses’ station should overcome the difficulty internally.” All my hard work meant nothing in front of Monica’s so-called honor. I looked at her and asked one last time, my face cold, “Why me again?” Paula said, “It’s already at this point. Don’t make it unpleasant.” “I asked around. You’re not married yet, and your skills are solid. Help me this once. I’ll definitely make it up to you later.” Because I wasn’t married, my time wasn’t worth anything. Because I was good at my job, I had to be the one who endured. I didn’t argue with Paula anymore. I picked up the schedule and turned toward Dr. Harding’s office. Just as I reached his door, my phone vibrated twice in my pocket. I stopped outside and opened the screen. In the department group chat, Monica had sent a message. Marathon schedule confirmed. Thank you, Nurse Grace Bennett, for putting the bigger picture first. I’ll bring another medal back for everyone! Underneath was a photo of her holding last year’s trophy beside Dr. Harding. One of the pharmacy nurses privately messaged me. Grace, just endure it. She’s tight with the director. No need to clash with them. I put my phone away, knocked, and walked in. The right wall of Dr. Harding’s office was covered with Monica’s “achievements” from the past few years. “Grace, what brings you here?” Dr. Harding looked up. He was still holding the marathon promotional brief. I walked over and spread five years of attendance records across his desk. He glanced at them but didn’t touch them. “Grace, you’re usually sensible. Why are you being so stubborn today?” He leaned back in his chair. “You’re the pillar of the department. Everyone recognizes your ability. Just suffer a little this once.” “Dr. Harding, my wedding shoot deposit is five thousand dollars. The photographer can’t reschedule.” Dr. Harding gave a short laugh, then spoke as if lecturing a child. “Young people today are so dramatic. In our day, one photo was enough to get married. Call your boyfriend over. I’ll talk to him.” I looked at him. That face full of the word sacrifice made me want to vomit. “Dr. Harding, in these five years, I’ve covered Monica’s shifts twenty-seven times.” I pointed at the attendance sheet. “Nights, holidays, weekends. All me. More than half of the marathons she’s run were possible because I was covering her shifts. But this time, I really can’t.” “Why can’t you? Young people should prioritize the bigger picture.” Dr. Harding cut me off. “I’ll be honest with you. This shift change was my decision.” “After Monica came to me, I first considered Nurse Young, but she’s too inexperienced and careless. Professor Warren doesn’t like her.” “Then I thought about Paula, but you know she’s the head nurse. Her overtime pay is three times yours. The department budget is tight right now. We can’t move the funds around.” “Paula will retire in a couple of years. You’re skilled. Work a little more. Look further ahead. Don’t fixate on such a small thing.” “What?” I stared at him in disbelief. So because I was cheaper, because I was obedient, I deserved to be bullied. And he dared say it straight to my face. “If we’re a hospital and the budget is tight, why are we reimbursing Monica’s travel expenses?” I couldn’t hold back anymore. “Monica is competing to bring honor to our hospital. If you throw a tantrum at a time like this, aren’t you embarrassing us? You don’t even have that much awareness?” “Dr. Harding, if Monica is going to run the marathon, shouldn’t the online schedule be changed officially? You’re just announcing it in the group chat?” Dr. Harding’s smile vanished. He set his thermos heavily on the desk. “You’ve reminded me. I’ll handle the procedural issue and make sure there are no loopholes.” “I’ll have Paula redo the schedule. You don’t need to worry.” He stood, walked around the desk, and patted my shoulder. “I’ll talk to Monica about the later arrangements when I have time. Go back to work. The ward can’t run without you.” “The hospital will consider the schedule as a whole. I hope you cooperate.” Dr. Harding picked up the attendance sheet and ushered me out of his office. I stopped in the hallway, my chest tight with anger. “Hello, Monica.” Dr. Harding’s voice floated through the door. “She came to make a fuss just now. It’s fine. Run with peace of mind. Don’t worry about the schedule. I’ll have Paula arrange it.” After a brief pause, he laughed. “What’s one little nurse? They’re everywhere. Do I not know her family situation? What can she do?” Mortgage to pay. Elderly family members to treat. That was their leverage over me. I looked down at the schedule in my hand. So in their eyes, I was that cheap. When Monica saw me coming back down the hallway, she smiled and leaned close. “Grace, Dr. Harding told me everything. Thank you for putting the bigger picture first. I’ll buy you milk tea when I’m back.” I stopped and looked at her. At her well-maintained face. The smile on Monica’s face stalled. She instinctively shrank back. I said nothing. I pulled out my chair and sat down. Then I opened my phone and tapped into the pinned chat. Honey, the wedding shoot might have to be postponed. I’m sorry. At the top of the chat box, it kept showing that he was typing. It lasted two full minutes. Finally, two words appeared on the screen. It’s okay. I stared at those two words. In the reflection of the computer monitor, tears fell without warning onto the back of my hand. Paula pushed the door open and beckoned me into the duty room. She sighed first. “My mother-in-law was admitted last night too, and my younger one still has tutoring.” Paula rubbed her temples. “Grace, I really can’t manage the schedule right now. Dr. Harding already gave the order. Just treat it as helping me once. Just this once.” “Why am I always the one who has to be wronged?” The duty room went silent. Paula lowered her head and looked at the tips of her shoes. She didn’t answer. I stood and walked out. “I’ll take that as a yes, okay?” Paula called behind me. I didn’t stop. As soon as I returned to the nurses’ station, Paula posted the new electronic schedule in the department group chat. Dr. Harding followed with a notice, then specifically tagged me. Grace Bennett, reply when received. Everyone should learn from Monica Shaw’s fighting spirit in bringing honor to the department. Monica replied immediately with “Received,” followed by three fist-pump emojis. Then a line of “Received” responses filled the group chat. That parade of compliance felt like a string of slaps landing on my face. Monica passed the nurses’ station and tapped the counter with her fingers. “Oh, haven’t checked your phone yet? Dr. Harding specifically tagged you. Hurry and reply. Don’t keep him waiting.” I ignored her and continued sorting the orders in my hands. When Dr. Harding passed by on rounds, he didn’t look at the chart. Instead, he reached out and pressed his hand on my shoulder. “Grace, work hard. For the year-end excellence award, I’ll prioritize you. That’s your reward. Understand?” His eyes swept over my still-lit phone screen. His tone cooled. “Reply to the group message. Don’t make hospital leadership think our department lacks unity. This is not only scheduling. It’s political awareness.” I looked up at him. He didn’t wait for my answer. He had already led a group of interns down the corridor. I took my phone to the restroom stall and called the photography studio. They couldn’t change the date. Postponing would count as breach of contract. The penalty was thirty-eight hundred dollars. Their voice was polite and businesslike. “All right.” I hung up. Thirty-eight hundred. More than half a month’s salary. Gone. After work, I went to the parking lot. Aaron was leaning against the car door waiting for me. He stared at my eyes for two seconds. “Why were you crying?” He straightened and started toward the outpatient building. “I’m going to find that marathon champion.” I grabbed his arm. “You don’t have to endure this,” Aaron turned back. “Quit and come home. I’ll support you.” I held onto him and said, “I’m not enduring it. I’m waiting.” Late that night, I sat in front of my computer and opened my phone album. One by one, I imported screenshots of Monica’s shift swaps from the past five years into the computer and began building a timeline. “Grace, what scheme are you cooking up instead of sleeping?” Professor Warren poked his head over to look at the screen. The old man was famously difficult. When his temper flared, he dared scold even the hospital president. But he was relatively polite to me. Because my skills were solid, and I never dropped the ball. “Just organizing some materials, Professor.” “The department is quiet now. Go nap for a while.” The old man shook his head and left. I looked at the growing list in the document and pressed Save. The weekend nurses’ station was chaos. Monica had dumped a pile of unfinished work and run off. The families of Beds 104 and 107 had already slammed the desk three times. I could only check the orders one by one. Every time I finished something, I entered it into the system and took a photo of the work record with my phone. During the brief gap when I shoveled down food, Nurse Liu pushed her phone toward me. On the screen, Monica flashed peace signs at the camera. “Even with certain colleagues failing to understand me, I still stood at the starting line.” “Life is not only the grind in front of us. It is also marathons and distant horizons.” Comments rolled past. Queen energy. So inspiring. I swallowed cold takeout and pushed Nurse Liu’s phone back. Monica won first place in the women’s division of the Harbor City Marathon. The local TV interview video was forwarded in the department group chat eight hundred times. On camera, she held up the medal with reddened eyes and said the medal belonged to herself for insisting on her dream, and she thanked the hospital for its tolerance. Although certain colleagues did not support her, she thanked the leadership for prioritizing the bigger picture. Dr. Harding stood in the middle of the nurses’ station, glowing with pride. “Our department needs exactly this kind of spirit, striving to bring honor to the hospital.” His gaze swept over the top of my head. “Don’t always stare at your own tiny patch of land. That’s petty.” Morning meeting ended. Monica came over with two Starbucks cups and placed one on my desk. “Grace, my legs are so sore I can barely get downstairs.” She rubbed her calves. “I’ll have to trouble you to cover for me for the next two days too. Once I recover, I’ll treat you to a big meal.” The day after tomorrow was the final deadline for changing the wedding shoot. I took the coffee but didn’t respond. Monica took that as compromise. “Oh, I know you’ve worked hard. I’ll remember this favor personally.” She patted my shoulder and turned toward the locker room. On the computer screen, Wednesday’s schedule was clean and neat. Day nurse: Monica Shaw. Night nurse: Monica Shaw. Doctor on duty: Professor Warren Price. The hospital president’s mentor. The strictest academic authority in the hospital. Five minutes before my shift ended, I opened the electronic handoff system and pulled up the file for Bed 105. Margaret Hargrove. Pulmonary infection. The most important line: penicillin allergy. Mrs. Hargrove happened to be Dr. Harding’s mother-in-law. She had been transferred into our department yesterday. I typed the final line into the handoff record. Bed 105 patient’s recent medication plan must be strictly reviewed. Responsible nurse: Monica Shaw. Please ensure proper handoff. Click. Upload. The system light turned green. The timestamp was generated and locked automatically. This record synchronized across the entire network. When I walked out of the outpatient building, Aaron’s car was parked by the road. There were two cups of milk tea on the passenger seat. “Let’s go.” Aaron hit the gas. “The photographer said the outdoor location is empty today. We can shoot extra sets.” I stuck in the straw and took a big sip. Behind me, the nurses’ station sign glowed. I had left behind a handoff record. And on it, the responsible nurse was Monica Shaw.

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1 At Monday’s meeting, my boss announced in front of everyone that I was fired for drinking my coffee without sugar. The excuse was ridiculous and everyone knew the truth. Victor Crane had decided his wife’s brother, Kyle Turner, had fully mastered my core technology. I was now a disposable pawn he was eager to remove. The room went silent. Only Kyle, now VP, failed to hide his smirk. I had spent six years in R&D. First year, I was the only engineer, sleeping in the server room for forty-five hundred a month. Third year, when the system collapsed, I stayed up three days rewriting code. Victor was so moved he promised to take care of me for life. Fifth year, with over a million users, I led endless maintenance on twelve thousand a month. Before the holidays, Victor brought in Kyle, who barely finished middle school, as an intern and asked me to explain the core logic. Now Victor believed Kyle had mastered the sacred art of copy and paste. I, the person who actually understood the technology, had become too hard to manage. He tapped the table, saying the company needed to get younger and my tech was outdated. He seemed to have forgotten something important. The platform’s underlying encryption algorithm was my personal invention patent. I had never transferred it. All this time, I had merely allowed the company to use it for free. I watched Kyle fiddle with my computer, the corner of my mouth lifting slightly. “All right,” I said. “I wish the company a bright future.” I set down my badge and turned to leave. I looked at the two of them. Victor leaned back in his chair and loosened his tie. Beside him, Kyle wore a loose T-shirt and spun a signing pen between his fingers. Victor turned to Kyle. “Are you sure you’ve learned how to maintain the core system?” Kyle slapped the pen onto the table, leaned back, and propped one ankle on the edge. “Victor, relax.” His voice was loud. “I’ve gone through that code a million times. The logic is simple. She deliberately made it complicated to cheat the company out of funding, adding useless encryption layers everywhere.” He tapped the table. “I’ve mastered it. I could rewrite it with my eyes closed.” Victor slapped his thigh and pointed at my nose. “Nora Lane, did you hear that? That’s the difference.” He stood up. “We’ve kept you for six years and paid you such a high salary, only to find out you made simple work complicated just to scam us? Now Kyle can do it. What do we need you for? Pack up and leave.” I didn’t argue. Talking law with someone who didn’t understand law, and technology with a scoundrel, was one of the biggest wastes of time in the world. “Fine.” I picked up my laptop and walked out of the meeting room. Behind me came Kyle’s laughter. Back at my desk, I pulled out a cardboard box and started packing. The colleagues around me all lowered their heads and typed. No one looked my way. Kyle followed me out and leaned against the cubicle divider. “Everyone, keep an eye on her.” He pointed at me. “Don’t let her take company secrets. The stuff on that hard drive is my work. If even one byte is missing, I’ll call the police.” A few interns looked up. I opened the server backend mount interface and found the module tucked away in the corner. Nora Lane Authorization. It was the electronic key to my personal patent authorization. Three years ago, when the company suffered a data leak, I had mounted it in an emergency. No authorization agreement was signed. They had used it free for three years. Now that I was a burden, I clicked Log Out. A popup appeared on the screen. Removing core authorization will cause algorithm failure. Continue? I clicked Yes. The progress bar finished. The small green lock in the system tray disappeared. I reached behind the host machine, unplugged a black encryption dongle, and dropped it into my box. Kyle stared at the screen without speaking. I shook the dongle in my hand. “Since you’ve learned everything, I’ll take this burden with me.” Kyle waved me off. “Get out already. Treating some crappy USB like treasure. What’s on it, selfies? I’d call it trash even if you left it here.” I picked up the box. “As you wish.” As I walked out of the building, my phone vibrated in my pocket. Messages from headhunters and HR reps flooded in. Every interview I had scheduled was canceled. Ms. Lane, apologies. We no longer have an opening. Engineer Lane, we heard you were fired for leaking data. Cooperation terminated. Nora, the industry is small. Behave yourself. I opened the industry group chat. Kyle was spamming it. Warning! Nora Lane lacks the technical skills for her role and was fired for suspected sale of core data! Hiring her means going against CraneTech! She has character issues. If my brother-in-law were less kind, she would already be in police custody! Victor followed with a heartbroken emoji. A few people echoed him. The previously polite industry contacts said nothing. I looked back at the office tower, put my phone away, and tightened my arms around the box. If they wanted to blacklist me, then I no longer needed to leave them any dignity. Let’s see if they could still laugh once that lock came down. Three days after I left, my usual headhunter sent me a voice message. “Engineer Lane, Victor Crane is talking in the industry. He says you faked your technical ability and stole confidential data. Several companies that were interested have paused at the background check stage.” I stood by the road and looked at the rejection notice that had just popped up on my phone. Victor didn’t only want to drive me out. He wanted to cut off my livelihood. Inside CraneTech’s R&D department, Kyle had his feet propped on the desk and a cup of milk tea in his hand. His screen was full of code, but he used only one set of shortcuts. In the Find field, he entered my name. In the Replace field, he entered his own. Then he clicked Replace All. The screen flashed. A prompt appeared. 358 replacements completed. Kyle whistled and selected the patent reference statement at the top of the code. Then he pressed Delete. At three in the afternoon, Victor walked into R&D. “Got the hang of it?” Kyle immediately lowered his legs. The mouse wheel flew, scrolling rapidly through code. “Victor, look. I stayed up last night rewriting all of Nora’s garbage code. Runtime efficiency doubled.” Victor stared at the dense “Author: Kyle Turner” labels on the screen and slapped Kyle’s shoulder hard. “Family is still reliable. That woman fooled us for years. You can do this better.” Kyle switched the page to the website of a tech giant. “Victor, this algorithm is mine now. Why don’t we apply for software copyright and package it as self-developed cutting-edge tech?” He pointed at AtlasCore Technologies on the screen. “AtlasCore is looking for a security partner. If we win this deal, we can go public.” “Go public?” Victor’s eyes lit up. He paced around the office twice, then slapped the desk. “Good. Apply for the copyright immediately. Contact AtlasCore.” He pulled out his phone. “But first, we need to warn Nora so she doesn’t talk nonsense.” In a coffee shop, I was organizing patent documents. My phone vibrated. Victor had sent a text. Still unemployed, I assume? Stop wasting your effort. Just letting you know, Kyle has already developed the second-generation product. The copyright belongs to the company. You’d better watch your mouth. If you dare ride our publicity or leak anything, I’ll make sure you can’t stay in this city. Second-generation product? Changing the name was now a second-generation product. They had deleted the patent statement and dared to use my work to deceive AtlasCore. AtlasCore’s CEO, Samuel Ward, was a technical founder. I closed the text, opened AtlasCore’s official website, and clicked Security Technology Partner Recruitment. I dragged in my resume, uploaded a scanned patent certificate stamped by the national patent office, and clicked Send. At the AtlasCore building, Victor stood in front of the revolving doors in a custom suit. He had used too much hair gel. Kyle followed behind him, clutching a freshly printed white paper titled CraneTech Self-Developed Core Technology. “Victor, we’ve got this.” Kyle tugged his tie and lowered his voice. “I asked around. AtlasCore needs exactly this logic.” Victor flicked nonexistent dust from his cuff. “Of course. When you meet Mr. Ward later, talk more about the technical details. Don’t stutter.” “Relax. I memorized the PowerPoint.” They registered at reception and sat in the waiting area. The side elevator doors opened. I walked out holding a clear document folder, lowering my head to confirm my phone calendar. “Well, isn’t this Engineer Lane?” Kyle’s voice was loud. I looked over. Kyle stood and looked me up and down. “Blacklisted and still managed to sneak in? Are you delivering food or applying to clean bathrooms?” Victor also stood and walked over. “Nora, for a company like AtlasCore, even I had to schedule this meeting half a month in advance.” He pointed toward security in the distance. “What is this? Are they letting anyone in now? Who takes responsibility if something goes missing?” Several passing employees glanced over. I put away my phone. “I’m here for business.” “Business?” Kyle shoved the thick white paper almost into my face. “You’re worthy of discussing business? Look carefully. We’re about to sign a contract. A deal worth tens of millions, using my self-developed technology.” He emphasized the words. “That old system is obsolete. Back then, we asked you to improve it, and you refused. Now you see us rising and want to come beg?” Victor glanced at his watch. “Nora, recognize reality. You and us are no longer on the same level. Leave before you embarrass yourself.” The sound of heels approached. A female secretary came over. The two men immediately bent forward with smiles. “Mr. Crane, Mr. Turner, Mr. Ward and the legal team are waiting in the conference room. This way, please.” Victor lifted his chin at me. “See that? This is the difference. Go home and reflect.” They followed the secretary toward the conference room. As Kyle passed me, he deliberately slammed his shoulder into mine. Watching their backs disappear around the corner, I brushed off the place he hit. He was right. There was a difference in levels. I walked toward another elevator with card access. The doors opened. AtlasCore’s legal counsel, Ms. Keller, held the door-open button. “Engineer Lane, did you bring all the documents?” I lifted the clear folder in my hand. Inside were the original patent certificate and the forensic appraisal report. “All here.” I stepped into the elevator and pressed the conference room floor. Inside the conference room, cold air blew from the central AC. On one side of the long redwood table sat Samuel Ward and AtlasCore’s executives. On the other side, Victor and Kyle sat with their backs perfectly straight. The projector light hit the screen. The PowerPoint page read: Exclusive Patent. Self-Developed. Kyle stood at the screen holding a clicker. “Ladies and gentlemen, this algorithm was independently developed by me over three years. It uses dynamic key logic, with security far exceeding similar products.” AtlasCore’s technical director twirled his pen and nodded. “The logic is excellent. The underlying encryption lock design is creative. This is exactly the kind of technology we need.” Victor clenched his fist and stared at the contract. Once financing came in, the company could go public. Samuel opened the draft contract and looked up. “Since evaluation is complete, let’s sign.” An assistant pushed the contract in front of Victor. Victor twisted open his gold pen. The tip touched the paper. The door opened. Ms. Keller walked in first. I followed behind her with my laptop. Victor’s hand shook, and the pen left a streak of ink across the contract. He shoved his chair back and stood, pointing toward the door. “Nora Lane? Who let you in? Where’s security? Mr. Ward, this person was fired by me. She’s here to cause trouble.” Kyle shouted too. “Get out! This isn’t a place for you to make a scene.” I walked around the table toward the projector. Kyle reached out to block me. I sidestepped, pulled the HDMI cable from his computer, and connected mine. The screen went black. Then my laptop interface appeared. “Mr. Crane, Mr. Turner, before signing, we need to finish the ownership verification process.” I stood beside the projection screen and looked at Kyle, whose head was already sweating. “If you claim you wrote this algorithm, then explain why the underlying logic lock requires my biometric fingerprint to open.” Whispers rose in the conference room. Samuel leaned back in his chair and stared at the contract on the table. Kyle opened his mouth for a long time but said nothing. He only looked at Victor. I pressed Enter. The screen lit up. The black terminal interface with red text stopped scrolling, and a red dialog box appeared in the center. It was the official backend interface of the national patent office, synchronized in real time. Core Patent Name: NL Dynamic Encryption Logic Algorithm Patent Owner: Nora Lane [sole owner] Current Status: Authorization withdrawn. Commercial use strictly prohibited. The gold pen slipped from Victor’s hand and rolled under the table. He stared at the screen, then looked at Kyle. Kyle’s knees weakened, and he collapsed into the chair. I pushed my computer to the center of the table. “Mr. Crane, you may have forgotten something. This patent is mine personally. When it was used at the company, I lent it to you.” I looked at him and continued. “Now that I’ve been fired, the word lend no longer applies.” Then I turned to Samuel. “Mr. Ward, using a stolen patent to obtain financing worth tens of millions constitutes commercial fraud.”

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