Author: Momo Chan

At our friend’s wedding, my boyfriend stretched out his leg and tripped me so I wouldn’t compete with his assistant for the bouquet. The three-month-old baby in my womb couldn’t survive the impact. I miscarried. Blood spread across the floor in an instant. My whole body shook violently. Shock flashed through Mason Hart’s eyes, but he pretended nothing had happened and smiled. “Enough. It’s someone else’s wedding. Why are you lying there like that?” “I didn’t mean anything by it. I just wanted you to run slower so you wouldn’t fight Ruby for the bouquet.” While I fell, Ruby Bell had already caught the bouquet in her arms with a smile. Seeing my shoulders tremble, Mason grabbed my arm and yanked me up as if I were an object. “Enough. Get up already. How long are you going to keep pretending? What’s wrong with you? Did your period come?” Only when blood had pooled across the floor and even stained the edge of Mason’s clothes did he finally seem to realize something was wrong. Looking at my pale face, he asked in disbelief, dazed, “Ava Vale, where is all this blood coming from? Don’t tell me… you…” I had planned to catch the bouquet and then tell Mason about the surprise I had hidden for three months. But none of that mattered anymore. I forced out a smile and answered coldly. “I was pregnant. You killed your own child with your own hands. Are you satisfied now?” Mason sat beside my hospital bed. Only after replying to Ruby’s messages did he finally have time to look at me with blame. “Didn’t you know you were pregnant?” “You’re an adult. Can’t you even take care of your own body?” While I was in surgery, he had gone home to change clothes. There was no blood left on him now. He said the second half of the wedding had gone badly because something happened to me and ruined the atmosphere. “When you’re discharged, I’ll host a dinner. You can apologize to Paige and her husband.” I stared blankly at the ceiling and asked him, “Mason, was it my fault? Did I fall on purpose?” “Did I want to miscarry?” When he saw how pale my face was, he fell silent for a moment. “You shouldn’t have run so fast.” “I just wanted to stop you so you’d give the bouquet to Ruby.” “You know she got divorced and still hasn’t really moved on.” “She only wanted a little good luck. Why did you have to fight her for it?” It was the wedding of our mutual friends, Paige and her husband, who had been together for years. When Paige was about to toss the bouquet, she spoke playfully. “Get ready to catch it. Whoever catches it will be the next to get married.” Before the ceremony started, she had pulled Mason and me aside. “When I throw the bouquet, I’ll throw it in your direction.” “Mason, I don’t mind if you propose at my wedding. Double happiness would be perfect.” She winked at both of us. Everyone wanted the blessing of that happy couple. I wanted it too. I thought Mason and I had both understood Paige’s hint. So I tried hard to run to the front and catch the bouquet that represented marriage. Ruby and I were both just about to touch it. Then Mason suddenly stretched out his leg. The moment I tripped, the bouquet bounced from my hand and fell into Ruby’s arms. Seeing that I had quieted down, Mason leaned closer and patted my hand. He brushed it all aside lightly. “Okay. Let’s not talk about this anymore.” As if he were being considerate, he said, “If you don’t want to apologize, then don’t.” “The baby was still in your belly. It was only an embryo. If an accident took it, then it’s gone.” “Don’t be too sad.” “Take care of your body. If you want children, we’ll have more.” I pulled my hand away and closed my eyes. Suddenly, I remembered the checkup only a few days earlier, when the doctor had smiled and told me, “In a little while, you’ll slowly start feeling fetal movement.” I gently placed my hand back on my lower abdomen. But now, there was nothing there. Empty. Only hollow breathing remained in the ward. Perhaps thinking I was asleep, Mason lowered his voice while speaking to Paige on the phone. “I hired someone to take care of her.” “If you have time, come visit her more and cheer her up.” “Me?” “I still have work at the company. I can’t stay here every day.” “And seeing her so lifeless puts pressure on me too.” “She doesn’t really want to talk. Staying beside her makes me irritated. It’s suffocating.” The door opened, then closed. Mason’s voice faded gradually until I couldn’t hear it anymore. I stayed at the recovery center for another two weeks. Mason came only twice. Each time, he stayed less than ten minutes before leaving. “I can’t help much anyway. I still have things to do. I’ll go first.” He couldn’t help much, and he was indeed busy. Messages kept flashing on his phone, Ruby’s name appearing again and again. He replied to every one of them without missing a beat, not even lifting his eyes. “When you’re discharged, I’ll come pick you up.” But he didn’t remember the day of my discharge. The caregiver called him. He didn’t listen to what she said, only gave two perfunctory hums and hurried to hang up. “I’m busy right now. Whatever it is, you can arrange it.” In the background, Ruby’s sweet voice called his name. The caregiver held the disconnected phone and looked at me awkwardly. At home, it was lively. When I pushed open the door, an unfamiliar woman was bringing the last dish out of the kitchen. She was still muttering, “Mason, you must try this. It’s my specialty.” “Ruby loves it most.” Mason smiled, perfectly skilled at making people happy. “Ruby loves it? Then I’ll definitely love it too. Ruby has always told me your cooking is amazing.” Ruby covered her face shyly, cheeks flushed red. When I came in, it was like two worlds at either end of the room. As if I had disturbed them. Ruby’s mother hesitated before speaking. “And this is?” Mason stood, intending to take me outside. As he pushed my shoulder, he comforted Ruby’s family. He searched for a while and finally chose a suitable identity for me. “She’s my assistant. She came to deliver something.” The exhaustion in my body spread into my heart. Mason held my hand. “After Ruby’s divorce, her parents kept pressuring her.” “She had no choice, so she told them she already had a new boyfriend.” “She didn’t expect them to suddenly come from their hometown this time, so she asked me for help.” “She wants me to pretend to be her boyfriend for a few days until her family leaves.” He shook my hand as if this were nothing. “Mason, when did her parents arrive?” He seemed not to expect that question and froze before giving a date. It was the day I had surgery. I slowly smiled. “No wonder you’ve been so busy lately.” Seeing me smile, Mason seemed relieved. “You know Ruby has been by my side for years, sharing so much of the burden.” “She’s my assistant and also my friend. I have no reason not to help with something like this.” “I spend a little time, and her parents think their daughter is doing well. Then they can go back without worrying so much.” He had considered everything. From the bottom of my heart, I sighed. “Mason, you’re really considerate to her.” I pressed a hand against Mason and pushed him away when he tried to lean closer. Ruby followed us out, rushing forward to stand in front of Mason as if I were some villain. “Ava, don’t hit him.” “I was the one who begged Mason to help. If you want to blame someone, blame me.” “My place is too small. Mason thought about how hard it was for my parents to visit, and since you happened not to be here, he offered to let us stay.” I happened not to be here. That was good for them. It wasn’t just a meal or a dinner. They were living together. “I’ll take my parents and move out right now. Don’t fight because of me.” She said she would leave, but her feet didn’t move at all. Mason pulled her behind him and explained gently, “Don’t worry about me. We’re not fighting.” “Your parents are leaving soon. Don’t overthink it. Stay here properly.” Ruby looked anxiously at me. “Ava, you don’t mind, do you?” I looked at the light falling on their still-touching hands and hummed faintly. “I don’t mind.” “It’s Mason’s house. If he wants you to stay, then stay.” I thought about many things. Mason and me. Mason and Ruby. Myself. In the end, I thought, there was nothing to mind. I was going to break up with Mason. My phone kept ringing. In our friends’ group chat, someone posted a photo. Mason was accompanying Ruby and her family around a shopping mall, carrying many shopping bags in his hands. He looked every inch the good boyfriend and good son-in-law. “Mason, what is this?” Someone finally seemed unable to watch anymore, and their words were less carefully chosen. “Ava, I’ve wanted to tell you for a long time.” “I’ve run into Mason and this good assistant of his together outside work more than once.” “I was afraid you’d think I was stirring up trouble between you two, so I kept holding back.” “But at Paige’s wedding, he insisted on bringing someone extra, and it had to be this woman.” “You miscarried. He’s not home taking care of you? But he has time to shop with another woman?” “If someone didn’t know better, they’d think they were the couple.” My lower abdomen seemed to ache in response to that question, throbbing faintly. My friend had held back. So had I. From the moment Ruby said she was divorcing until the whole process was finished. Mason helped a lot in the middle. He helped her deal with her ex-husband’s harassment, helped her find a powerful lawyer to fight the divorce case. Seeing that she was in a bad mood, he extended their business trip. After the project discussion ended, he accompanied her around the local city on walks. When he helped me choose gifts, Mason would unconsciously say, “This actually suits Ruby.” When Ruby got drunk, he went to pick her up and personally took care of her. He listened to Ruby drunkenly ask why other men couldn’t be as good as Mason. Mason made her hangover tea and fed it to her while answering, “Then next time, meet me earlier.” I had accompanied him in the middle of the night for that trip. Hearing that, I frowned. “Mason, don’t you think you and Ruby have crossed a line?” He stared at me for a few seconds, then suddenly laughed. “You’re getting jealous over nothing?” “She’s been running around with me since the company first started and never complained once.” “This divorce has hit her hard. Whether emotionally or logically, I have to take extra care of her.” If I asked again, he brushed me off with the same kind of words. If I asked too many times, he told me to calm down and stop thinking of that kind of thing every time I saw a man and a woman together. The worst fight we had nearly ended in a breakup. It was at his company’s annual party. The first prize was a voucher for a couple’s island vacation. I hooked my finger around Mason’s. “If either of us wins, we’ll go when you take a break.” I was number six. Ruby was number nine. When it was time to draw, Ruby played along with the atmosphere. “Pick me. Pick me.” Mason was in charge of the draw. In the noisy room, he and Ruby looked at each other through the crowd. Then he smiled and read out the winning number. “Congratulations, number nine.” I looked at the number in my hand. I was a little disappointed, but it was fine. Until I saw the winning card that had been cleared away. The number written on it was clearly six. Mason admitted he did it on purpose. “It’s just a small thing. If you want to go, I can take you.” “Ruby is at a low point right now. She wanted it, and it just happened to be you who won, so I thought we could let her have it and make her happy. Isn’t that nice?” “How many times have you thrown tantrums over things like this? Can you be more mature?” “Stop being so petty.” “No. No.” I cut him off sharply. “That was mine. And you’re my boyfriend. Why did you give away my things without asking me?” Mason didn’t want to argue and walked away. It made me look like a hysterical, resentful woman. Watching his back, I suddenly threw the number card at him. “If you want to give things away, then give yourself away.” “I’ll give you to her too.” “Mason Hart, we’re breaking up.” I had walked far away before Mason seemed to react. He hurried after me and grabbed me. His breathing was unsteady. The criticism he had been about to say died when he saw that I wasn’t pretending. He panicked. He held me tightly and kept coaxing. “Okay, okay.” “I’m sorry, Ava.” “I’ll make her return it right now. I won’t do it again.” When my struggling weakened, he nuzzled me affectionately. “I knew it. When have you ever truly been willing to leave me?” He said he would be more mindful of boundaries. But when Ruby said at the wedding that she no longer believed love would come to her, Mason naturally wanted me to give her the bouquet that represented happiness. Only this time, what I lost was not just a free travel voucher. I stopped thinking about those things. In the boiling group chat, I replied with one message. “It’s fine. I’m going to break up with Mason.” Neither my family nor Mason’s knew about the miscarriage. They complained lightly and dragged me out for afternoon tea. “Ava, what have you and Mason been busy with lately? We wanted to visit, but you kept saying you couldn’t and it was inconvenient.” Mason’s mother pretended to be displeased. “I called him so late last time and even heard his assistant’s voice beside him.” “You both need to take care of your health. Don’t work so late.” I smiled. Words lodged in my throat, but I couldn’t say them. Mason noticed us first. He clearly didn’t expect to run into us at the mall. He directly pulled me aside. “Ruby and her parents are here too. If we run into each other, it’ll be hard to explain.” “Can you take my mom and yours somewhere else?” Mason rubbed my earlobe. “Mm?” Soft music played in the mall, but for no reason, it irritated me. I stepped back, not wanting to be too close to him. Mason’s hand missed, then he withdrew it as if nothing had happened. “I originally thought you were too busy to deal with things between us, so I would wait until Ruby’s parents left.” “But right now, I really can’t wait another second.” He didn’t understand what I meant. Perhaps displeased that I had avoided his touch, he bent down and tried to kiss me. I turned my head, and the kiss landed only on my cheek. “Wait for what? I know. Once they leave, I’ll properly spend time with you.” “Be good.” I rubbed hard at the side of my face where he had kissed me, wanting to erase the sticky feeling. My voice wasn’t loud, but my eyes were cold. “Mason, don’t make this feel as disgusting as an affair.” “We’re brea—” Before I could finish, my mother and Mason’s mother came out of the shop and saw us. They were pleasantly surprised. “Mason, why are you here too? Didn’t you say you were busy?” Mason behaved flawlessly. “I’m meeting a client nearby, Mom.” My fingers curled almost imperceptibly. I suddenly remembered that after he promised me he would pay attention to boundaries with Ruby, the time we spent together had actually decreased. He always said the company was busy. Ruby had once posted a photo. In the corner of the picture was Mason’s distinctive hand. When I asked him what it meant, he said he was meeting a client. The exact same tone. As he spoke, Mason casually handed me a card. “All expenses for the three ladies in my family today are on me.” “Consider it my apology.” Both mothers immediately laughed. They teased that I was the richest person in the family. Looking at their smiles, I swallowed the sigh I couldn’t let out. Mason was anxious for me to leave, so he pushed the card toward me again, about to put it directly into my hand. But just as he turned around, footsteps thundered closer, loud enough to shake the building. Someone behind me suddenly grabbed my hair. The hand was rough from hard labor, gripping and yanking me. Then a heavy slap landed across my face. My cheek swelled instantly, five clear finger marks appearing. My eardrum buzzed as if ruptured. The scene was chaotic and ugly. Ruby’s mother had been held back, but she was still trying to rush forward as if she wanted to tear me apart. “The last time you came to my son-in-law’s house, I could tell you weren’t decent.” “You mistress, trying to take her place. You chased him all the way here to ask for money.” Her hair had come loose, and she threw herself toward the ground as if ready to make a scene. “Everyone, come judge this.” “This woman is a mistress. She claimed she was my daughter’s boyfriend’s assistant, using work as an excuse to chase him into his home.” “What kind of thoughts do women like you have? You think others can’t see?” “And today I caught them pulling at each other, with her trying to take my daughter’s boyfriend’s bank card.” “My daughter told me too. This mistress just had a miscarriage.” “So shameless, so cheap, and still trying to cling to my daughter’s man.” “Don’t even dream of it.” Her voice was loud, sentence after sentence. Many people stopped, their gazes falling on me, their faces full of contempt.

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1 For my sake, Marcus, a brilliant and renowned cardiothoracic surgeon, turned down a prestigious fellowship abroad. He had taken my hand in front of the entire hospital staff, declaring to everyone that I was the only woman he would ever love. Back then, everyone whispered that an unremarkable resident like me had somehow managed to capture the heart of the youngest Chief of Cardiothoracic Surgery at Apex Medical Center. That night, he held a bouquet of white roses and proposed to me on the hospital rooftop, with a sky full of fireworks exploding behind him. But when I woke up, everything changed. I had suddenly traveled three years into the future. The thirty-one-year-old Marcus stood before me, tossing a reassignment notice stamped by the HR department onto the desk. “Sienna, stop slitting your wrists just to beg for my sympathy. I stopped feeling anything for you a long time ago.” “This transfer to the ER to do grunt work is entirely your own doing.” The man standing in front of me wore a pristine, spotless white lab coat. His eyes were cold, completely devoid of the tenderness that had once filled them on that rooftop. A sharp ache hit the back of my throat, and my eyes stung. “Marcus, are you snapping at me?” Marcus froze. The next second, his brow furrowed even deeper. I could not wrap my head around this. Just last night, he had been on one knee on the hospital rooftop, handing me those white roses. “Sienna, let’s get married.” He was such a proud, ambitious man, yet he had turned down a spot at Harvard just to stay by my side. He had even stayed up for three consecutive nights to help me edit my research paper so it could be published sooner. I still remembered the dark circles under his eyes. How could a single night turn the man who once cherished me into someone who looked at me with nothing but sheer disgust? Marcus obviously had no patience for my confusion. He stared at me, his lip curling slightly. “Time travel? Sienna, you’re a medical professional. Do you honestly expect me to believe that ridiculous excuse?” He scoffed, yanking off his surgical mask. Unwilling to spare me another glance, he turned on his heel and walked out. Panic seized me. Without thinking, I rushed after him, reaching out to grab his sleeve. “Mar—” Suddenly, Marcus stopped dead in his tracks. Caught completely off guard, my nose slammed hard against his solid back. The sharp pain made me gasp, and tears instantly flooded my eyes. But Marcus did not seem to hear me, let alone care to turn around. Instead, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his vibrating phone. He answered it. A soft, melodic female voice slipped through the receiver, clear enough for me to hear every word. “Hey, Marcus. I just emailed you the final draft of the new review. Don’t forget to take a look when you have a moment.” Marcus offered a quiet, gentle hum. His voice softened into a tone I had not heard all morning. “Got it. I’ll review it tonight.” I stood frozen in place, staring at him in disbelief. “Who is she?” The voice sounded incredibly familiar, but my mind was in such a chaotic mess that I could not place it. “Have you had enough of this drama?” Marcus slid his phone back into his pocket, his brief moment of tenderness vanishing instantly. “Be grateful, Sienna. If I hadn’t vouched for you in front of the Chief of Medicine, you wouldn’t even have a job as a clerk.” His gaze flicked to my red, swollen nose, his expression icy. “You are no longer the promising doctor I once thought was worth mentoring.” The heavy thud of the door closing shook me out of my daze. I fumbled with my phone, scrolled to the very top of my contact list, and pressed dial. The line rang for what felt like an eternity before a voice finally picked up. “Sienna?” My best friend, Jenna, sounded hesitant, as if receiving a call from me was the last thing she expected. But I was too overwhelmed to notice her strange tone. The moment I heard her voice, the tears I had been holding back finally spilled over. Jenna remained quiet, listening to my frantic, rambling explanation. After a long pause, her voice spiked in disbelief. “Are you telling me Marcus proposed to you on the rooftop yesterday?” I squeezed the reassignment notice tightly in my hand. “Yes. But now he’s transferring me to the ER to do grunt work.” I sniffled, my voice trembling. “Jenna, can you come pick me up?” Another long silence stretched over the line before she softly replied, “Okay. I’m on my way.” Inside the quiet cafe, Jenna stared at my face for a long time, as if trying to find a stranger hidden beneath my features. “So, you’re saying you fell asleep, woke up, and three years had passed? You don’t remember anything that happened during this time?” I did not know whether to nod or shake my head. “Sienna, to be honest, this isn’t the first time Marcus has tried to push you out.” Jenna spoke slowly, choosing her words with extreme caution. “And frankly, you and I haven’t spoken in a very long time.” I stared at her, stunned. Jenna let out a long sigh before explaining the nightmare my life had become over the last three years. Less than six months after that grand, romantic rooftop proposal, Marcus began to change. My eyes widened. “He fell in love with someone else?” “Yes. It started about two years ago,” Jenna said, taking a sip of her coffee and watching me closely. “It was Brooke, the junior resident you used to mentor.” According to Jenna, once I found out about the affair, I completely lost my mind. I began doing desperate, reckless things. “You crashed the National Cardiothoracic Conference. In front of the entire medical community, you screamed that Brooke had plagiarized your research data, causing a massive scene. Later, you broke into her office and smashed her newly won award. Marcus called security on you himself and even had the psychiatry department come down to evaluate you.” Jenna took another slow sip. “I couldn’t watch you destroy yourself like that, so I tried to convince you to let him go. But you were hysterical, and you ended up shoving me down a flight of stairs.” After that, everyone turned their backs on me. The once-promising resident who had captured the heart of Apex Medical’s star surgeon had become the biggest laughingstock in the entire city. “I accused her of stealing my paper, and Marcus just decided I was insane?” Jenna remained silent, but she gave a slow, somber nod. I looked down, smoothing out the crumpled transfer notice on the table. In a way, Marcus had been merciful. Even though he despised me to this extent, he had not officially requested the board to terminate my contract. He had simply relegated me to the chaos of the emergency room. I pulled a pen from my bag, ready to sign the document. “Are you actually going through with this?” Jenna’s hand shot out, gripping my wrist. Deep concern swam in her eyes. “You’ve pretended to agree to transfers before, only to turn around and storm the administration office to cause another scene.” I looked at her, utterly bewildered. Had the future version of me really become so pathetic? “Sienna,” she asked, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Do you really not love him anymore?” My fingers tensed around the pen. Love? A flood of memories rushed into my mind. The truth was, Marcus had been right about one thing. It was his recommendation that had allowed me to secure a permanent residency at Apex. It was his guidance that had given me access to top-tier research resources. But three years ago, he had promised to help me refine my research paper so I could submit it to a prestigious international journal. Yet shortly after, Brooke had published a paper with almost identical data. When I confronted him, Marcus had smoothed it over, claiming that Brooke’s research direction had simply overlapped with mine. He told me that with my skills, I could easily write a better one. He told me he loved me, so I worked twice as hard, desperately trying to be someone worthy of standing by his side. I had agreed to climb to the peak of the medical field with him, believing we were partners. But now, he had chosen someone else to walk that path with him. The debt of gratitude I owed him for his mentorship had been paid in full with my broken heart. Wasn’t it time for me to reclaim my own life and chase my own dreams? Jenna’s eyes welled with tears, her voice cracking. “Sienna, I am so, so glad to hear you say that.” Standing before the towering building of Apex Medical Center, I looked up. The grand, modern glass facade remained unchanged. Yet, it felt completely different from the place I remembered. “Isn’t that the crazy girl from Cardiothoracic?” “Why is she back? Didn’t she embarrass herself enough last time?” “Shh, keep your voice down. Last week, a nurse tried to talk to her, and she nearly scratched his eyes out.” The hushed whispers of passing staff drifted into my ears. I pulled my gaze away, tightening my grip on the signed transfer form. Before coming here, I had tried calling Marcus. It rang once before he hung up. When I tried again, the call went straight to voicemail. He had blocked me. Since I was leaving the department anyway, there was no point in dragging this out. I wanted to hand the paperwork directly to him and close this chapter. Jenna had tried to stop me before we parted ways. “I have a court hearing this afternoon, are you absolutely sure you can handle this alone?” She was a busy corporate lawyer now. She clearly did not believe I was fully sane yet, thinking I was just using the paperwork as an excuse to cause another scene. But seeing my quiet determination, she had finally relented, looking back at me with worry as she walked away. Clearly, she was not the only one who expected the worst. The moment I stepped into the Cardiothoracic wing, the nurse at the front desk was so startled she knocked over a bottle of disinfectant. Several residents nearby instantly went on high alert, surrounding the desk as if a threat had entered the room. I could not blame them. Jenna had told me that during my worst breakdown, I had completely trashed the Chief’s office, a scene that someone had filmed and posted online. Marcus had used that incident to suspend several colleagues who had dared to speak up for me. I understood their hostility. I looked at the nurse, forcing a polite, calm smile. “I’m here to see Chief Marcus. I need to hand in my transfer slip.” The nurse hesitated, looking highly uncomfortable. “Dr. Sienna, Dr. Brooke left strict instructions. Non-department personnel are not allowed in the administrative offices.” Dr. Brooke. My former junior, who was now Marcus’s golden child. “The transfer paperwork requires the Chief’s personal signature,” I said smoothly, stepping past her. The nurse panicked, and two residents moved forward to block my path. Suddenly, a commotion broke out near the entrance of the wing. A crowd of doctors was walking in. Before I could turn around to see what was happening, someone shoved me hard from behind. Losing my balance, I stumbled forward, my forehead slamming violently against the sharp metal corner of a supply cart. A sharp gasp of pain escaped my lips. Clutching my throbbing forehead, I spun around, only to meet Brooke’s wide, innocent eyes. “Oh! Dr. Sienna, it’s you! I am so, so sorry. I didn’t see you standing there.” I rubbed the blooming bruise on my forehead, my voice dropping to a cool, dangerous register. “Your eyesight is remarkably poor for a surgeon, Dr. Brooke. No wonder you mistake other people’s research papers for your own.” Ignoring her gasp, I turned toward the Chief’s office, but she stepped in front of me, blocking the door. “Sienna,” Brooke said, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness, though her words cut deep. “You don’t belong to Cardiothoracic anymore. Prowling around our offices is highly inappropriate, don’t you think?” I tilted my head, studying her. Jenna had mentioned that the surgical techniques I pioneered had helped put this department on the map, nearly earning me a major national award. But Brooke had swept in and claimed all of my research as her own. “Until the transfer paperwork is finalized, I am still legally a doctor in this department. Who do you think you are to stop me?” I stared directly into her eyes. “A thief who builds her career on stolen data?” Her face paled, and tears immediately welled in her eyes. “Sienna, I know you’re bitter about the transfer, but you can’t just throw wild accusations at me.” She stepped closer, leaning into my space as if begging me to strike her. The whispers around us grew louder, the onlookers’ expressions turning from caution to outright disgust. “This is ridiculous. She has no talent of her own, so she resorts to slandering Brooke.” “Brooke works herself to the bone every single night. How could she possibly plagiarize?” “Exactly. Chief Marcus is incredibly strict. If there were any issues with her paper, do you think he would have let her publish it?” Looking at her pathetic, victimized act made my stomach churn. I stepped back, revulsion clear on my face. “Get out of my face. You make me sick.” That single sentence seemed to detonate a bomb. Brooke covered her face, sobbing hysterically. “What did I ever do to deserve this, Sienna? Why do you hate me so much?” “That is enough!” A thunderous voice boomed from the end of the corridor. Marcus was walking back from rounds, flanked by a dozen doctors. He strode forward, immediately wrapping a protective arm around Brooke’s trembling shoulders. When he looked up at me, his face was flushed with fury. “Sienna, what kind of psychotic episode are you having now?” Before I could speak, Brooke clutched his coat, her voice shaking. “Marcus, please don’t yell at her. It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have argued with her.” Tears streamed down her cheeks. “You are far too kind for your own good, which is why she thinks she can walk all over you.” Marcus gently wiped her tears, then glared at me, his eyes burning with disgust. “Sienna! Is this what you came here for today? Do you find this amusing?” He looked at me as if I were a piece of trash. “Stop playing these desperate games. It won’t work.” I realized then what he was thinking. In his eyes, my presence today was just another pathetic stunt to get his attention and delay the transfer. He truly believed I was willing to humiliate myself just to stay near him. “You’re right. It isn’t amusing at all,” I said, a calm smile spreading across my lips as I pulled the paper from my folder. “That’s why I came to finalize the paperwork.” Marcus froze. He stared at my face, then down at the paper in my hand. His eyes locked onto the signature block at the bottom, narrowing in confusion. With a sudden, violent sweep of his hand, he knocked the paper out of my grip, sending it fluttering to the floor. “Are you mocking me?” he hissed, his voice rising dangerously as the veins in his temples pulsed. “Are you really so desperate that you’d resort to this kind of reverse psychology just to cling to me?” Slap. The sharp crack echoed down the sterile hallway. Marcus’s head snapped to the side, his words cut short by the sheer force of my palm against his cheek. Ignoring the gasps of the surrounding staff and his murderous glare, I calmly knelt down and picked up the paper. “Take a good look, Marcus.” He ground his teeth, staring at me with pure venom for several seconds before taking a sharp, angry breath and snatching the paper. He looked at the signature line. There was no frantic “I refuse to sign,” nor was it a blank space designed to buy time. Written in clear, elegant print was my signature. Directly above it was a single sentence: I consent to the transfer to the Emergency Department. He stood completely frozen.

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1 After our reconciliation, I became the perfect, docile partner. No jealousy, no tracking his location, no probing his private life. When I found a strange man’s tie draped across our bed, I didn’t blink. I simply folded it neatly on his nightstand. McDonald, reviewing documents against the headboard, went rigid. Color drained from his face. In the suffocating silence, he pinched his nose, exhausted. “Last night’s gala,” he explained. “I borrowed Silas’s tie for my suit. Forgot to return it before coming home.” He looked away. “No outsiders were in our bedroom.” A lie. I’d chosen every scent in this house. Last night, before he entered, a heavy wave of unfamiliar cologne had hit me. I retched, throwing open windows until I could breathe again. For years, I’d endured this. Whenever he spent hours locked with Silas, that scent clung to him, leaving me vomiting through the night. Disgust, jealousy, humiliation—it all festered. But confronting him only earned cold rebukes about being unreasonable. We’d broken up over Silas countless times, yet he remained by McDonald’s side. It didn’t matter anymore. I lowered my eyes. I was leaving soon anyway. My silence only made the air in the room heavier. McDonald let out a heavy sigh, offering a rare, unsolicited explanation. “How many times do I have to say this before you get it through your head? Silas is my uncle’s stepson. Our families were close back in the day, and we practically grew up together. That’s the only reason I look out for him at work.” “Other than that, there is absolutely nothing going on between us.” I had heard this excuse a thousand times. In the past, I would have lost my mind, screaming and dripping with sarcasm about his perfectly crafted corporate excuses. This time, I just gave a slight nod. “Okay. I believe you.” I was agreeing with him, yet he looked as if I had just punched him in the gut. His expression darkened. “You really don’t care?” Before I could nod again, his phone rang. It was a custom ringtone Silas had recorded on McDonald’s phone himself. A soft, acoustic hum of a sugary pop song, sung in Silas’s clear, bright voice. No matter how you listened to it, it dripped with an unmistakable, teasing seduction. I had gotten into physical screaming matches with McDonald over that ringtone at least five times. Now, looking at his tense, furrowed brow, I spoke with total calm. “Answer it. Don’t keep him waiting.” McDonald froze. He hesitated for a long moment before swiping to answer. I didn’t care what they were talking about. I turned to walk out of the room, but his hand shot out and caught my wrist. Whatever the person on the other end said, McDonald murmured a few gentle agreements, his brow softening. He hung up and looked at me. “Let’s go to The Zenith in a few days. You know, that starlight restaurant you’ve been wanting to try.” When I just stared at him blankly, a rare smile broke across his face. “I promised you, didn’t I? I told you I’d never neglect you again.” “Don’t worry. For our sixth anniversary this time, I’m going to make it perfect for you.” I stood rooted to the spot. It wasn’t until he changed his clothes and left the house that the strength vanished from my legs. I collapsed onto the floor and started laughing. It was absolutely hilarious. The very first anniversary we were actually going to celebrate properly was already our sixth. Did he honestly believe that a fancy dinner could compensate for five years of neglect? A shattered mirror can never be put back together. 2 I really should have noticed the rot much earlier. The cracks in this miserable, twisted relationship showed their ugly faces during our very first year together. We were fresh out of college back then. His startup was just beginning to find its footing. I wanted to share his burden, so I spent nights studying business management and operations, hoping to surprise him. I hid my identity and secretly submitted my resume to his HR department. But on the day of my interview, the HR manager apologized to me. They said a new executive assistant had just been appointed directly by the CEO, so the position was closed. Before leaving the building, I stood at a distance and looked through the glass walls of McDonald’s office. A handsome, bright-eyed young man was leaning closely against McDonald’s side, his head tilted down, laughing at something McDonald had said. The air inside that office was thick with a rising, undeniable intimacy. From that day on, the unfamiliar scent of men’s cologne on McDonald’s clothes never faded. My hatred probably took root right in that exact moment. We were all adults. I refused to believe McDonald was completely blind to Silas’s deliberate flirting and blatant seduction. But you can never wake a man who is only pretending to be asleep. For the next three solid years, I collected everything. Photos of their secret dinners, auction house receipts for jewelry, hotel check-in records. When I threw all the evidence onto the table in front of McDonald, my reward was a stinging, merciless slap across the face. “You’re stalking me?” I was completely broken. “What exactly is going on between you and Silas! Does a boss and an assistant really need to go to these extremes?” McDonald was furious. “You’re insane. How many times do I have to tell you? It’s strictly business. How far are you going to take this psychotic behavior?” “If you seriously think there’s something going on between us, then I have nothing left to say to you.” “Suit yourself.” No comfort. No guilt. No explanations. He slammed the door and left. That same night, I saw a post on social media from Noah, the HR manager I had added years ago. [Oh my god. The boss just booked a thousand drones and set off fireworks for Silas’s birthday. Talk about dedication!] I stared numbly out the window. Sure enough, the distant night sky was exploding in a breathtaking shower of silver and gold sparks. And right there, bathed in that brilliant, distant light, my heart finally and completely died. I suddenly remembered complaining to my friends back when McDonald and I first started dating. I told them he was just too cold, too pragmatic, completely incapable of romance. My friends had comforted me, saying it was just his nature and that I needed to be more forgiving. Looking back on it now, it wasn’t that he didn’t understand romance. He just hadn’t met the person he wanted to put the effort in for. 3 We plunged into a bitter cold war. I refused to accept defeat. I staked out McDonald’s corporate building every single day, desperate to corner Silas and talk to him face-to-face. But McDonald protected him flawlessly. I waited in the cold for five days and didn’t even catch a glimpse of Silas’s shadow. Just as I was contemplating a different approach, reality hit me from a blind spot. One of McDonald’s aggressive business rivals had men tailing me. While I was walking home alone, they dragged me into a pitch-black alleyway. I was terrified to the point of sobbing. I fought back with every ounce of strength in my body, managing to rip my arm free just long enough to dial McDonald’s number. The steady, rhythmic dial tone felt like the final countdown to my death. They grabbed me again. This time, they didn’t leave any openings. They raised a heavy metal baseball bat and brought it crashing down. If a clerk from a nearby convenience store hadn’t called the cops, I genuinely would have died on that dirty concrete floor. When I finally woke up in a hospital bed, wrapped in stiff gauze, a police officer was standing beside me, frowning deeply at my cracked phone. He looked at me, confused. “Why is your emergency contact completely unreachable?” “You have him saved as ‘My Love.’ You two must be close, right?” He dialed it a few more times, shaking his head when the call was repeatedly killed. Finally, he used his own phone to dial the number. McDonald answered on the first ring. Before the officer could even speak, McDonald’s voice dripped with icy irritation over the speaker. “What is it now? What kind of stunt are you pulling this time? I told you I’m slammed at work. Do you have to be this relentlessly clingy?” The officer’s face shifted into an uncomfortable grimace as he explained the bloody reality of the situation. McDonald just let out a cold scoff. “How much did he pay you to play this little role? Tell him to cut the crap. I don’t believe a single word coming out of his mouth.” I bit my pale lip, leaning back against the sterile hospital pillows, drowning in an ocean of absolute humiliation. I eventually took my phone back, thanked the officer, and paid back the medical fees the precinct had fronted for me. I couldn’t bear to stay in that room another second. Ignoring the doctor’s loud protests, I signed myself out and left. When I dragged my battered, bruised body back into our apartment, McDonald was already sitting on the couch. It was the very first time we saw each other without screaming, without demanding answers, without even exchanging a single word. McDonald just stared at the fresh blood slowly seeping through the white bandages wrapped around my head and arm. His lips parted slightly, but no sound came out. With his wealth and connections, finding out the truth was effortless. Not to mention, that police officer had been so disgusted by McDonald’s reaction that he had requested a copy of the alleyway security footage and emailed it directly to McDonald’s office. He undoubtedly knew exactly what had happened to me. But I had nothing left. My energy, my physical strength, my soul were utterly depleted. I didn’t have a single drop of fight left to give him. I slept incredibly deeply that night. Brushing shoulders with death hadn’t just taken away my obsession. It had taken away my resentment. For the first time in years, I slept in peace. The next morning, his private doctor was waiting in the living room. I knew this was McDonald’s silent white flag. I didn’t reject the care. First, I was seriously injured. Second, I needed a buffer period to get my affairs in order. And so, during the year following our reconciliation, I began to slowly dismantle my attachment to him. I systematically lowered my expectations to zero. Humans aren’t machines. You can’t just flip a switch and turn off love. But time proved to be a ruthless, effective cure. I went from faking my forgiveness to genuinely not caring. I went from pretending to be unbothered to actually feeling nothing at all. Until three days ago. I woke up, looked at his empty side of the bed, and realized I hadn’t even noticed he didn’t come home the night before. I smiled. A deep, satisfied smile. I knew it then. It was time to go. I didn’t breathe a word of my plans to McDonald. Lately, he seemed oddly on edge about my complete lack of interest in his life. But I wasn’t delusional enough to think he actually cared about my feelings. He probably just realized I was becoming useless to him. In the past, I would cook elaborate hot meals for him. Now, I couldn’t even be bothered to order his delivery. On the exact night I finalized my flight out of the country, McDonald came home unusually early. Out of nowhere, he pulled me into a tight embrace, burying his face in my shoulder. His voice came out muffled. “You didn’t take that bracelet. Why didn’t you defend yourself?” I blinked, taking a moment to process his words. He was talking about an incident from two days ago. He had complained of severe stomach pains, so I grabbed some soup from a deli on my way to the visa office and dropped it off at his firm. Before I could even reach the elevator to leave, security surrounded me. Silas was in tears, claiming his family’s heirloom jade bracelet was missing, and I was the only outsider who had stepped foot in the executive suite. Surrounded by the sneers of the employees, McDonald’s furious demands for an explanation, and Silas’s perfectly timed sobs, I just stood there. It felt like watching a bizarre, poorly written comedy. I couldn’t believe my very first face-to-face meeting with Silas was under such pathetic circumstances. Nobody wanted to hear my side of the story. Eventually, the drama only ended when I took off the million-dollar jade bracelet and ring set McDonald had won for me at an auction years ago, handing them over as compensation. I had cherished that set. It was the only genuine, thoughtful gift McDonald had ever given me. My heart pinched for exactly one second before I slid the cold stone off my wrist and dropped it into Silas’s waiting hands. Maybe McDonald and I were just destined to be entirely incompatible. Whatever. It was fine. This was the perfect way to cement us as complete strangers. Listening to McDonald mumble into my shoulder now, I learned that the cleaning crew had found Silas’s “stolen” bracelet shoved deep under the cushions of the office sofa. Exactly as if someone had deliberately hidden it there. His voice carried a slight tremor he didn’t even seem to notice. But I just patted his back, comforting him in a hollow voice. “I’m sure Silas just misplaced it. Don’t overthink it.” 4 That night, he held me in bed and talked endlessly about our past. About the good old days. I offered vague, noncommittal hums. Beneath the blanket, my phone screen lit up with an automated alert. Less than ten hours until my flight departed. I would be completely free. Before leaving for work the next morning, McDonald turned around at the door and pulled me into another tight hug. “Karl, don’t forget our anniversary dinner tonight.” He looked at me with a strange hesitation in his eyes. In previous years, I would have been dropping hints for months. Today, I was so quiet it seemed like I had forgotten the date entirely. I nodded, letting a soft smile touch my lips. The second the door clicked shut behind him, I walked into the spare room, grabbed my packed suitcase, and ordered a cab to the airport. McDonald, these six years were a catastrophic mistake. Since you threw away the first five years, we really don’t need a sixth, a seventh, or any year after that. I hope we never cross paths again, not in this lifetime, not in the next. [Hidden Ending] McDonald only noticed something was wrong right before the workday ended. He had intentionally cleared his entire afternoon schedule just to get to The Zenith early and oversee the private room decorations. Before leaving his office, he habitually checked his phone to see if Karl was on his way. The chat log was dead silent. The location pin and reservation details he had sent hours ago remained unread. A sudden, inexplicable wave of anxiety clawed at McDonald’s chest. He had never changed Karl’s contact name. It was still the same sickeningly sweet pet name from their college days. But as McDonald scrolled up through their chat history, his thumb suddenly froze over the screen. The last time Karl had initiated a conversation was nine days ago. Before that, eleven days. He had to scroll up violently, spinning the screen for a long time, before he hit the era of Karl’s overwhelming desire to share his life. A stray cat on the sidewalk. A new billboard outside his office. A dumb joke he found online. Random, sappy paragraphs sent at 2 AM saying how much he missed him. Every tiny, insignificant detail of his day, offered up like treasure. McDonald had barely replied to any of them. Karl would send seven or eight messages in a row, and McDonald would reply with a single word: “Busy.” Karl would ask what time he was coming home for dinner, and McDonald would reply the next morning: “Worked late.” Going back even further, there were the times Karl threw tantrums over the radio silence. Long strings of crying emojis, missed calls, soft, trembling voice notes asking if McDonald had stopped loving him. McDonald used to find it so incredibly suffocating. He thought Karl was too needy, too sensitive, too paranoid. But now, staring at a chat history that had been surgically clean for nearly half a year, McDonald suddenly realized something terrifying. He actually missed the relentless bombardment of messages he used to despise. His phone buzzed in his hand. He practically snapped his neck looking down. It was a breaking news alert. Not Karl. McDonald scowled, slamming the phone face-down on his oak desk. He stood up and paced to the floor-to-ceiling windows. The Chicago skyline was bathed in a brilliant gold sunset. He lit a cigarette, but with every drag, the hollow panic in his chest only expanded. He forced himself to rationalize. Karl just forgot his phone. Karl was stuck in traffic. Or maybe… Karl was setting up a surprise. After all, every past anniversary, Karl had spent weeks preparing. Hand-written cards, elaborately baked cakes, hand-strung fairy lights. McDonald had just never shown up for a single one of them. A knock on the door pulled him from his thoughts. Silas pushed the glass door open, holding a stack of folders. He smiled, his tone soft and inviting. “McDonald, the marketing team is going out for drinks tonight. Everyone’s heading over. You should come.” McDonald didn’t even turn his head. “No.” Silas took a few steps closer. “But I already told them you might drop by, and since everyone is…” “I said I’m not going.” McDonald finally turned around. His voice wasn’t loud, but the weight behind it was crushing. Silas finally registered the look on his boss’s face. It was a heavy, volatile mix of dread and agitation he had never seen before. Silas tightened his grip on the folders. His eyes grew slightly red, but he forced a sympathetic smile. “Is it because of your anniversary?” McDonald remained silent. “But you always came out with us on your anniversary,” Silas murmured, his voice dropping into a register of subtle grievance. “Last year, the year before, the year before that. You always spent it with us. I thought this year would be the same…” McDonald’s pupils contracted sharply. He had spent every single anniversary with Silas and the team. Last year’s departmental dinner. The year before that was Silas’s birthday party. The year before that was a project milestone celebration. Every single time, Karl had confirmed the date months in advance. McDonald had promised he would be there, but when the day arrived, there was always something “more important” to do. He suddenly remembered one specific year. Karl had waited up the entire night, cooking a massive feast. Around midnight, Karl sent a text: “The food got cold. I microwaved it three times, but you still aren’t here. I’m going to eat first.” Attached was a selfie. Karl was smiling brightly at the camera, but his eyes were swollen and bloodshot. McDonald had been sitting in a VIP club booth, surrounded by coworkers doing shots. Silas had been pressed against his side, singing a sweet love song into a microphone. McDonald had glanced at the photo, typed “Sorry, tied up here,” and locked his screen. After that night, Karl never cooked a massive dinner for him again. “McDonald?” Silas’s voice yanked him back to the present. McDonald lowered his eyes, his voice turning deadly flat. “Not tonight. Tell the team the drinks are on me, but I won’t be there.” Silas parted his lips, but swallowed whatever he was about to say. He turned and walked out. But the split second before the heavy door clicked shut, that usually sweet, innocent face twisted into an ugly, unmasked scowl of pure jealousy. McDonald grabbed his phone again. Still nothing. He crushed his cigarette into the ashtray, grabbed his keys, and walked out of the building. 5 The Starlight Room at The Zenith was nestled on the top floor of a high-rise, boasting a panoramic view of the sparkling city grid below. It was the place Karl had mentioned a hundred times over the years. McDonald had secured the best table by the glass. He had instructed the staff to arrange a massive bouquet of white roses—Karl’s favorite—and placed a velvet box containing a pair of diamond cufflinks on the pristine tablecloth. He sat down and sent his second text of the day. “I’m here. Drive safe.” No reply. McDonald began checking his phone compulsively. Unlock. Swipe. Lock. Unlock again. He opened a tracking app to check Karl’s location, only to find the signal completely dead. Karl’s phone was turned off. A hard knot formed in his jaw. He dialed the number. Straight to voicemail. He dialed again. Voicemail. The coiled anxiety in McDonald’s gut finally snapped into outright panic. He was just about to call his building’s concierge to check the apartment when a loud burst of laughter echoed from the restaurant entrance. Silas walked in, trailing seven or eight employees from the firm. He stopped dead, feigning perfect, wide-eyed surprise. “McDonald? What are you doing here?” McDonald narrowed his eyes, saying nothing. “Wow, what are the odds we booked the exact same place?” Silas laughed, turning to wave the hesitant employees forward. “Come on guys, since we’re all here, let’s just grab a table near the boss.” The employees exchanged nervous glances, but Silas was already boldly pulling out a chair at the table right next to McDonald’s. They awkwardly shuffled into their seats. McDonald’s voice was ice. “I have plans tonight.” “Oh, no worries at all. We’ll just be right here. We won’t bother you,” Silas smiled innocently. “Who are you waiting for? Karl? When is he getting here?” McDonald ignored him entirely, staring down at his screen as he dialed for the fifth time. Still voicemail. The waiters began bringing out appetizers for the group. Silas enthusiastically poured wine, quickly warming up the atmosphere. A few employees awkwardly walked over to toast McDonald. After rejecting them twice with a hard glare, Silas himself walked over, holding a crystal glass, his tone soft and pleading. “Come on, McDonald. It’s rare we all get to unwind. Just have one drink with us. It won’t stop you from waiting.” McDonald stared at him in heavy silence, then snatched the glass from his hand and downed it. One glass. Two glasses. Three glasses. Silas was an expert at pouring drinks. He always found the most irrefutable excuses to toast. A successful quarter, a junior staffer’s workiversary, even the clear weather outside. McDonald could hold his liquor, but the rapid-fire shots, combined with the suffocating dread boiling in his chest, began to blur his vision. The room started to spin slightly. McDonald stood up abruptly, needing to splash cold water on his face in the restroom, and needing an excuse to call Karl again away from the noise. As he squeezed past the table, his gaze accidentally swept over Noah, the HR manager. Noah was staring down at his phone, his thumb hovering over the social media posting page. McDonald had already looked away when his brain suddenly registered what he had just seen. He violently snapped his head back. The photo on Noah’s screen. It was of him and Silas. The angle of the shot was dangerously intimate. Silas was leaning heavily against McDonald’s shoulder, and McDonald’s arm appeared to be wrapped firmly around Silas’s waist. They looked exactly like a deeply in love couple. McDonald remembered that exact moment clearly. It was from the company holiday party a year ago. Everyone was grouping up for a massive team photo. Out of nowhere, Silas had shoved his way to McDonald’s side. Someone yelled to look at the camera, and Silas practically threw his weight against him. McDonald had been too drunk to push him away in time. But that wasn’t what made the blood freeze in McDonald’s veins. The horror was right below the photo. Under the privacy settings for the post, a specific tag was highlighted in bright green. Visible only to: Karl. McDonald’s mind went completely blank. The next second, he lunged forward and snatched the phone directly out of Noah’s hands. Noah flinched so hard his chair scraped against the floor. The color drained from the HR manager’s face in an instant. “M-Mr. McDonald…” McDonald didn’t even look at him. His thumb swiped rapidly up the screen, tearing through Noah’s post history. Photo after photo. It was a gallery of him and Silas at various events. A perfectly angled shot in a glass boardroom. A cropped photo from a late-night dinner that made them look alone. Creepily taken candid photos where their proximity looked vulgar and illicit. And under every single photo, the exact same tag glared back at him. Visible only to: Karl. The oldest post was from three years ago. Three. Years. The phone began to shake violently in McDonald’s grip. He slowly looked up, his eyes locking onto Noah. His voice sounded like metal grinding against bone. “Who told you to post these?” Noah’s lips trembled uncontrollably. He was so terrified he couldn’t form a coherent word. “I… I…” Silas’s face had turned ash white. He hurried over, reaching out to grab the phone back. “Noah, did you forget to change your group settings? This is such a stupid mistake. McDonald, please don’t be mad, I’ll make him delete it right now. Noah, pack your desk tomorrow. You’re fired.” “No, no, no! Mr. McDonald, please don’t fire me! I just got married, I have a mortgage…” Noah broke down completely, tears streaming down his face. McDonald didn’t speak. He just slowly turned his dead, terrifying gaze onto Silas. Silas shrank back under that stare, offering a stiff, panicked smile. “McDonald, it’s totally unacceptable for staff to make mistakes like this. I’ll thoroughly discipline the department tomorrow…” “Mistakes?” McDonald’s voice was a whisper, but it sliced through the restaurant, silencing the entire room. “Three years. Dozens of staged photos. Every single one specifically targeted to be seen only by Karl. You call that a mistake?” The dam broke. Knowing his career was already dead, Noah sobbed hysterically, spilling everything. “Mr. McDonald, I didn’t want to do it! Silas forced me! He told me if I posted these for him, he’d give me a bonus and secure my promotion! I swear I didn’t want to…” “Noah shut your mouth!” Silas’s voice shrieked, instantly losing its polished veneer. But Noah was already drowning and intent on dragging his killer down with him. He wiped his face aggressively. “And that’s not all! The jade bracelet from the other day! Silas handed it to me and ordered me to shove it under your sofa cushions! He said it was the perfect way to make you hate Karl! I tried to say no, but he threatened to destroy my career…” The air in the room completely solidified. McDonald stood frozen. Everything he had dismissed. Everything he had rolled his eyes at. Everything he had labeled as Karl’s psychotic paranoia suddenly came crashing down on him like an avalanche of broken glass. Karl screaming in the living room, begging for the truth. Karl slamming printed photos and hotel receipts onto the table. Karl sobbing until he threw up, asking, “What exactly do you want from me?” And Karl’s eyes. Over the years, McDonald had watched them shift from burning with love, to desperate expectation, to crushing disappointment, and finally… to the dead, hollow abyss of absolute despair. And every single time, McDonald had chosen to protect Silas. “McDonald, I swear I don’t know what he’s talking about! He’s just lying to get back at me for firing him…” Silas’s voice trembled. His eyes filled with large, glistening tears, looking exactly like a fragile flower battered by a storm. McDonald slowly turned his head to look at him. Looking at that face, he suddenly remembered the little boy trailing behind him at his uncle’s house all those years ago. A violent wave of pure nausea hit him. The disgust clawing up his throat was a thousand times more potent than the alcohol burning in his stomach. He had allowed himself to be manipulated by this pathetic creature’s tears for years. He had ripped Karl’s heart to shreds to protect this monster’s “feelings.” He had let a cheap actor perform a three-year-long tragedy right inside his own home. McDonald shoved past him without a single word, striding out of the restaurant as if the devil himself were at his heels. “McDonald!” Silas cried out behind him, his voice cracking. McDonald didn’t look back. He threw himself into his car and tore down the highway, his foot heavy on the gas.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “466674”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 On our fifth wedding anniversary, I suddenly developed a bizarre ability. I could see exactly how many times people had slept together. I looked just above Tristan’s head. A dense, hovering cluster of crimson threads floated in the air. One thread equaled one time. My face flushed hot as I carefully counted them. Ninety-nine threads. They were all one-way, pointing exclusively to me. I was sitting in a local cafe waiting for my best friend, planning to tell her all about this crazy hallucination. But my phone suddenly vibrated, blowing up with a barrage of texts. “Who are you out with? A guy or a girl?” “Why did you wear sandals out of the house?” … “It’s been five minutes. Why aren’t you replying?” “Hello?” Blair leaned over the table, catching a glimpse of the screen. She scoffed, her face twisting with indignation. “It’s been five years, Rose. He literally dictates what you wear on your feet. How do you put up with this?” “If you ask me, you should just divorce him and stay with me.” She stared at me with big, pleading eyes. Out of pure habit, I immediately defended Tristan. “You love controlling me just as much. When I got married, you literally held a pair of scissors to your own throat, crying and begging me not to leave you.” “Besides, I can actually see it now. His heart and his body belong entirely to me.” Before I could even finish my sentence, a single, glowing red thread suddenly sprouted from the top of Blair’s head. Blair, who claimed to have never dated anyone in her life. I froze. I followed the glowing line across the room. It connected straight to Tristan, who was walking through the cafe doors with a dark, stormy expression on his face. … I rubbed my eyes hard, convinced I was losing my mind. But no matter how many times I blinked, that brilliant red line remained suspended in the air, firmly connecting Blair and Tristan. “Why didn’t you check in with me?” Tristan’s cold voice snapped me back to reality. He knelt right in front of me, taking off my sandals and replacing them with a pair of enclosed leather flats he had brought with him. “The reception is bad in here. The video I took of the cafe wouldn’t send.” The explanation spilled out of my mouth as a pure conditioned reflex. Tristan accepted the excuse with a slight nod and sat down next to me. He draped his arm over the back of my chair and pulled me firmly against his side, marking his territory. Blair rolled her eyes. “If you’re going to stick to her like glue, why don’t you just shrink her down and keep her in your pocket?” Tristan didn’t argue. He just raised an eyebrow and smoothly grabbed the latte sitting in front of me. He took one sip and frowned. “Didn’t I tell you to cut out sugar?” Without waiting for an answer, he grabbed a shot of plain espresso from the side and dumped it straight into my cup. “Are you blind? Rose has a massive sweet tooth.” Blair fired back, instantly grabbing a sugar packet and dumping the whole thing into the mug. “She can’t have sugar.” “Yes she can!” They went back and forth, entirely ignoring my presence, never once asking what I actually wanted to drink. They were always fighting over me. It applied to everything. From screening the friends I was allowed to make, all the way down to picking my major in college. They orchestrated my entire life. But this time, I noticed something sickeningly different. They were arguing loudly. But under the table, the tip of Blair’s foot was sliding smoothly up Tristan’s inner thigh. And Tristan, while gripping my hand tightly with his left hand, was using his right hand to catch her ankle, gently caressing her skin. A sudden, dizzying wave of nausea hit me. Before that ruined cup of coffee could spill over the rim, I abruptly stood up and grabbed my bag. They were too busy arguing, faces flushed, to even notice me walking out the door. I went straight home, locked myself in the bathroom, and splashed freezing water on my face. The woman staring back at me in the mirror looked deathly pale. When Tristan finally came home, I watched them from the second-story window. Just an hour ago, they looked ready to rip each other’s throats out at the cafe. Yet here they were, pulling into the driveway in the exact same car. As Blair stepped out of the passenger side, her legs seemingly gave out. Tristan caught her effortlessly, sweeping her up into a bridal carry. Blair had bought the house right across the street from ours just to be closer to me. When they walked up the steps and saw me standing perfectly still in the doorway, they both froze. Tristan recovered instantly. “It’s getting dark. I couldn’t let a woman walk home alone, so I just gave her a ride.” Blair pouted, her eyes wide and innocent. “Rose, why did you run off so fast? You didn’t even wait for me.” “Tomorrow is your birthday. Let me plan the whole day for you, okay?” I quietly stared at the second, brand-new red thread that had just materialized above their heads. I offered a soft smile. “Okay.” Tristan quickly swatted Blair’s hands away from me. “Alright, that’s enough. Rose needs to rest.” “You’re just terrified I’m going to steal her away from you, aren’t you?” Blair glared at him playfully. Tristan simply shut our front door right in her face. He picked me up, carried me to the living room sofa, and wrapped his arms around me. He pressed soft kisses to my ankles. He had always possessed this strange, obsessive quirk. Whenever he wanted to be affectionate, he loved playing with my feet. Normally, I would lean into his touch. But then I smelled it. The faint, undeniable scent of freesia on his collar. It was incredibly familiar. It was the exact matching perfume Blair and I had bought together. But I wasn’t wearing any perfume today. It could only belong to Blair. My stomach violently churned. I asked, my voice terrifyingly calm, “Tristan, what do you actually think of Blair?” His answer was the same rehearsed line he had used for years. “I wish you would cut her off. She consumes way too much of your time. You belong solely to me.” Blair had told me the exact same thing about him. Yet these two people, who supposedly fought tooth and nail over me, had secretly pushed me out of the picture to sleep together. I shoved Tristan off my lap and flicked off the living room light. “I’m tired.” It was the very first time I had ever rejected Tristan. Unsurprisingly, it ignited his temper. For the first time in five years, he didn’t wake me up to demand a kiss before leaving for the office. But he still laid out my clothes and breakfast just like a strict schedule. The exact same oatmeal and eggs I had eaten every single day for a week. He claimed it was a nutritionist-approved diet. He said it was good for me. But I was absolutely sick of it. The clothes were a long, ankle-length dress. I didn’t want to wear a dress today. I pulled open my closet, only to find that every single piece of clothing had a neat little label pinned to the hanger, dictating exactly which day of the month I was allowed to wear it. It wasn’t just my clothes. Every breath I took was strictly controlled. It had been this way since the day Tristan became my financial sponsor. I grew up in the foster system. I had nothing. Initially, I didn’t hate Tristan’s possessiveness. On the contrary, it gave a terrified, abandoned girl a desperate sense of security. But his control slowly derailed into madness. At first, he just made me a daily schedule. Then, he demanded real-time location tracking. Every month, he would confiscate my phone, auditing my text messages and every single social media account. He quietly blocked and deleted every single male contact on my list. When it was time to pick my college major, he logged into the portal behind my back and changed my applications. “Going to school out East is too far. Just go to the local state college. Being a nurse is a nice, quiet job for a girl.” With grades high enough for the Ivy League, I was forced into a mediocre local program. Once I started college, his paranoia only amplified. I would be sitting in the middle of a lecture hall when my phone would ring. “Go back to your dorm and change. That pink sweater is too bright. It attracts too much attention.” I had snapped my head around, staring wildly at the crowded lecture hall. I was terrified. I was suffocating. I couldn’t tell which of the students or professors was secretly on Tristan’s payroll, watching my every move. People used to whisper about us, calling Tristan a control freak. They couldn’t understand why I stayed with him. But Tristan was my only light in the dark. Back when I was starving, working three jobs just to afford textbooks, he was the one who pulled me out of the gutter. Yes, he monitored me, but when I caught a bad flu during midterms, he abandoned a multi-million-dollar tech deal overseas. He flew eight hours straight just to get to my dorm. When campus security wouldn’t let him in past curfew, he stood out in the freezing rain from midnight until dawn, just to hand me a bag of medicine and check my temperature. A ringing phone yanked me out of my memories. “Rose, Mr. Tristan is throwing a huge birthday gala for you tonight, but his phone is going straight to voicemail.” “Is he with you? Can you ask him what flavor the cake should be? And does he want the dress to be silk or heavy embroidery?” It was my birthday. They were my friends on the planning committee. Yet their first instinct was to bypass me entirely and ask for Tristan’s approval. I told them Tristan was at the office, but the girl on the phone begged me to go find him, terrified to make a decision without his green light. I finally gave in. I put on the pre-selected dress and took a cab to his corporate headquarters. The receptionist blocked my path in the lobby. “I’m sorry, you can’t go up without an appointment.” I had been locked in my house for so long, I had practically severed all ties with the outside world. I hadn’t worked a single day since I got pregnant the first time. At the hospital where I worked, there was an unspoken, toxic rule that nurses had to schedule their pregnancies to avoid staffing shortages. Tristan deliberately poked a hole in the condom. The moment the test came back positive, he secretly called the hospital board and reported my pregnancy. I was immediately fired. I still remember the look on the face of the girl competing against me for the Head Nurse promotion. She smiled so hard her cheeks almost split. “I really thought you had me beat, Rose. I didn’t realize you were such an angel, getting knocked up just to hand me the promotion.” I frowned at the receptionist. “How do I make an appointment?” “You need to clear it with his executive secretary, Blair.” Blair? Since when did Blair become Tristan’s secretary? Right at that moment, Tristan’s personal driver walked through the lobby doors. He looked shocked to see me. “Mrs. Rose? What are you doing here?” He shot a glare at the receptionist. “This is the CEO’s wife. Are you blind?” The receptionist instantly turned a sickly shade of gray. She panicked, stepping in front of the elevator banks, desperately trying to block my path. “But Mr. Tristan is in the middle of something highly confidential right now!” My eyes turned freezing cold. I shoved her aside. I marched into the elevator, hit the button for the top floor, and navigated the sleek hallways straight to the CEO’s suite. Just as my hand touched the brass handle, I heard Tristan’s voice bleeding through the heavy wood. “Are you trying to kill me?” “I wish you were dead. That way, Rose would only have me.” The receptionist hadn’t been fast enough to warn them. I slammed the heavy door open. The two figures on the leather sofa jumped violently, instantly freezing in place. Tristan panicked, frantically pulling his dress shirt over his chest. “Rose, it’s not what it looks like!” Blair, however, took her sweet time. She didn’t even bother covering her bare chest as she strolled right up to me. “See? Men are all pigs.” “Rose, leave him. He doesn’t deserve you.” “Isn’t having me enough for you?” She looked back at Tristan with a sickeningly triumphant, competitive smirk. I looked up at the space above their heads. A third red thread had materialized. “So, this is the birthday present you guys prepared for me.” Tristan’s voice was physically shaking. “Rose, this was just a stupid mistake.” “When did this start?” I cut him off completely. “Was it that time I came back from my business trip down South, and I was completely wasted?” “Or was it May 8th? The day I lost my baby.” I accurately pinpointed the dates based on the sudden shifts in their behavior. “Neither of you is drunk today, but here we are.” Tristan fell dead silent. Blair, however, furrowed her brows in deep annoyance. “Rose, are you seriously going to ruin our friendship over some stupid guy?” “Just like how you deliberately pushed me toward that abusive foster family when we were kids, just so you could keep Tristan all to yourself later?” Blair and I grew up in the same group home. We met when we were three. We were inseparable, two halves of the same soul. But when we were kids, a wealthy couple came to adopt. They only wanted one girl. The night before the meeting, I swallowed a bucket of crushed ice and sat in a freezing bathtub for hours. When the prospective parents saw me shivering and sickly, they thought I was a burden. I did it on purpose. I made sure they picked Blair. But nobody knew the husband of that family was a violent, abusive monster. When Blair finally ran away and found her way back to the group home, her tiny body was covered in black and purple bruises. Because of that, I had carried a crushing, unbearable guilt my entire life. It dictated everything I did. Even in high school. Blair had cornered my new best friend in the locker room, stripped off her clothes, and poured bleach all over her belongings to humiliate her. When I found them, Blair fell into my arms, sobbing hysterically. “I was just so jealous! Why does she get to hang out with you? I’m supposed to be your only best friend!” I protected her. I took the fall for the bullying. I was completely ostracized by the entire school. People wrote “psycho bitch” in sharpie on my locker. Nobody dared to come near me. And just like she wanted, Blair became the only friend I had left. And all this time, she believed I had manipulated that adoption so I could get sponsored by a billionaire, while I spent those years working three grueling shifts a day just to keep a roof over my head. “I let you have Tristan back then. Honestly, I didn’t care, because you’re my best friend.” “If I can sacrifice that much for you, why can’t you do the same for me?” Tristan joined the interrogation, stepping closer. “Rose, who are you going to choose?” I stared at the two of them. The two most important people in my entire world. The same two people who had systematically isolated me, destroyed my social life, and stripped away my independence until I had literally no one else to choose. A suffocating wave of grief hit my chest. I tilted my head back, trying to stop the tears, but they spilled over my cheeks anyway. Seeing me cry sent them both into an instant panic. “Rose, please don’t cry! It breaks my heart when you cry!” “I swear to God, from now on, I am entirely yours. I messed up.” They stood in front of me, swearing on their lives that it would never happen again. Right in front of me, they deleted each other’s contact information. Blair even handed in her resignation on the spot. They promised me the world. But as the days went on, I watched a new red thread appear above Tristan’s head every single day. The threads stretched across the street, leading directly into the house across from ours. Until May 8th rolled around again. On that day, the glowing red threads between Tristan and Blair officially outnumbered the ones pointing to me. Blair kicked our front door open, waving an ultrasound picture in the air, screaming at the top of her lungs. “I’m pregnant!” My foot froze mid-step in the hallway. Then, I heard Blair drop her voice into an annoyed whisper. “This is all your fault. If you hadn’t messed with the pills, Rose’s baby would have been born, and my kid and her kid could have been best friends just like us.” Tristan snapped back. “Rose was completely obsessed with that baby. I couldn’t just stand there and watch her heart be divided.” “Besides, you’re the one who crushed the abortion pill and dropped it into her water glass. I just handed the cup to her.” Blair suddenly remembered, letting out a bright, airy laugh. “Oh, right! Rose only needs me anyway. A kid just gets in the way.” “Exactly. She has us. That’s all she needs.” They spoke with such casual, horrifying entitlement. It hit me like a bullet to the chest. It wasn’t my weak body that had failed my baby. They murdered my child. For weeks after the miscarriage, I walked around like a ghost. I spent nights curled up on the bathroom floor, clutching the tiny, blood-stained clothes I had bought, completely broken. They had held me while I cried. They had acted even more devastated than I was. It was all a sick, twisted performance. I leaned heavily against the hallway wall, trying to keep my legs from collapsing. My fingernails dug into the drywall, leaving bloody crescent marks. My heart felt like a sponge soaked in acid. With one tight squeeze, all the bitter rot poured out. When Blair finally walked into the living room and shoved the ultrasound into my hands, she was vibrating with excitement. “Rose, I’m carrying Tristan’s baby! You’re going to be a godmother!” “But don’t worry, I won’t embarrass you in public.” “I’ll just hire some random guy to play the dad. No one will ever know the baby actually belongs to your husband.” Tristan didn’t say a word. He just stared down at the ultrasound picture, a look of absolute fascination and pride on his face. They were so completely drowned in their sick joy that neither of them noticed the dead, hollow look in my eyes. Blair moved fast. A few weeks later, she paraded a man into my living room. The poor guy looked blissfully happy. I just felt a deep, overwhelming pity for him. He was rubbing Blair’s swollen belly, genuinely believing he was the father. “Rose, you’re going to get me an amazing gift for the wedding, right?” I forced the corners of my mouth to twitch upward. “Of course.” I had prepared her gift the exact second I realized they were my baby’s murderers. On the day of the wedding, Tristan looked happier than the actual groom. His wedding gift was an absurdly expensive collection of imported baby gear from France. When it was my turn, Blair looked at me with glowing anticipation. I just stared at the dense, horrific web of red threads floating above their heads. There were three new threads today alone. Over three hundred more than when this all started. I looked at Tristan with dead eyes. “Do you have any idea how many times you two have slept together?” On the other side of the room, Blair had eagerly ripped the wrapping paper off my gift box. When she pulled the contents out, the entire ballroom gasped in collective, horrified silence.

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1 After the car crash scrambled my husband’s brain, he lost the ability to speak. Well, almost. He was left with exactly two words in his vocabulary: “Yes” and “No.” But the real kicker? Every time he answered a question, he physically could not tell a lie. It felt like a twisted gift from the universe. I sat across from him one morning and asked, “Are you sleeping with my best friend?” The color drained from his face. His jaw trembled, but his mouth moved entirely against his will. “Yes.” “Have you been hiding money in secret accounts?” “Yes.” “Is your bank pin your high school sweetheart’s birthday?” “Yes.” Armed with his bizarre new condition, I ruthlessly dismantled his life. I sent his mistress packing, secured every last penny of his assets, and watched him sit there, completely incapable of even cursing me out. Life was perfectly peaceful. Until this afternoon. A ridiculously attractive food delivery guy dropped off my lunch and brazenly asked for my number. I flirted back, deliberately glancing over at my husband, who was staring blankly at the wall like a wooden doll. “Are you even my husband?” I scoffed, rolling my eyes. “Another guy is hitting on me right in front of you and you don’t even care?” Without missing a beat, he blurted out, “No.” My smile vanished. I froze, my eyes locking onto his dull, vacant pupils. The silence in the room stretched out until it felt suffocating. Finally, I whispered, “Then is my husband, Nolan, dead?” “Yes and no.” A violent chill shot down my spine. I leaned in, staring into his eyes with absolute focus, and asked again. “Are you Nolan?” The man sitting in front of me maintained a perfectly serene expression. “No.” My lips started to tremble. “Then who are you?” He didn’t answer. He couldn’t. The rules of his brain damage dictated he could only answer yes or no questions. And now, apparently, “Yes and no.” I grabbed his face, examining every single inch of skin. It was Nolan’s face. It was identical. I traced the jagged scar near his temple. Three years ago, some idiot dropped a glass bottle from a high rise. Nolan had shoved me out of the way and taken the glancing blow to the head. It took seven stitches to close. This was Nolan’s scar. There was no mistaking it. I sat back, my mind racing in total chaos. Since the accident, this man had been a living crystal ball. He had answered every question with one hundred percent accuracy, even things completely unrelated to his life. He accurately predicted the exact scores of soccer matches. He confirmed insane celebrity scandals before they leaked. I had made a small fortune betting on his answers, and I trusted his “Yes” or “No” with my life. I knew for a fact that if I asked him, “Is an earthquake going to hit in five minutes?” and he said “Yes,” I would grab my emergency bag and sprint out the door without a second thought. But just now, he told me he wasn’t Nolan. And when I asked if Nolan was dead, he gave me a paradoxical answer. The cold terror in my chest began to spread. If this man wasn’t Nolan, then who the hell had I been living with for the past three months? Where was the real Nolan? How could someone be “Yes and no” dead? Was he in a coma somewhere? I was seriously debating whether to tie him to a chair and interrogate him when a sharp, aggressive knocking rattled the front door. I walked over and pulled it open. Two police officers were standing on my porch. “Riley? We’re with the City Police Department. What we’re about to tell you might be a shock, so please try to stay calm.” The older detective pulled out a notepad. “At 9:30 this morning, we received a call. A highly decomposed body was pulled from the riverbed. We found an ID on the remains belonging to your husband, Nolan. We’re here to ask if you know anything about this.” My knees went weak. I grabbed the doorframe. “That’s impossible!” The two officers exchanged a sharp, vigilant look. “Why is it impossible?” I dug my fingernails into my palms, forcing myself to breathe. “Because Nolan isn’t dead. He’s sitting right there.” I pointed toward the living room couch. The man who looked exactly like Nolan was sitting there, his head bowed, completely silent. The officers froze. The older one stepped past me, walking straight into the living room. He pulled out the recovered ID card and held it up to the man’s face. Seeing the exact same features staring back at him, the detective fell dead silent. I hurried over, waving my hands. “My husband is incredibly careless. He loses his wallet all the time. Someone must have stolen his ID and ended up in the river. It’s just a horrible coincidence.” The detective ignored me. He leaned down and looked the man in the eyes. “Excuse me. Are you Nolan?” The man blinked slowly and muttered, “No.” The air in the living room turned to lead. The way the officers looked at me instantly shifted from sympathetic to deeply suspicious. I panicked and scrambled to grab the medical files from the coffee table. “Please, let me explain! Three months ago, my husband was in a severe car crash. His hippocampus was destroyed. He lost his memory, and his speech center is permanently damaged. He can only say ‘Yes’ and ‘No.’ Watch, I’ll prove it.” I stepped in front of the man. “Nolan, do you love eating garbage?” “No.” “Nolan, are these police officers bad guys?” “No.” “Nolan, are you Nolan?” “No.” I turned to the cops with a helpless, exhausted smile. “See? His cognitive function is basically that of a seven year old. You can’t take anything he says literally.” The two officers exchanged another look. They carefully reviewed the official medical reports from the neurology department and stepped outside to make a verification call. When they came back, their shoulders had dropped a fraction. “It seems this might just be a massive misunderstanding,” the older detective said. “But we still need you to come down to the station to give a formal statement.” I asked if I needed to bring Nolan. The detective thought about it. “Bring him. You probably don’t want to leave him home alone in his condition anyway.” So, I brought the man with me to the precinct. Back at the house, I had played a calculated game. I purposefully asked three questions that required a “No” answer. The second question proved the cops were good people, which meant I wasn’t in any immediate danger. But just as I finished signing my statement and prepared to leave the station, the interrogation room door swung open. A female detective walked in, her face like a sheet of ice. “Hold on. I have a few questions.” She signaled the younger cop to leave the room, then sat down directly across from me. “I think you’re lying.” My fingernails dug into my palms again. “What is that supposed to mean?” The female detective stared right through me. She reached over and clicked off the recording camera. Her voice dropped to a low whisper. “Didn’t recognize me, Riley? It’s Harper.” I flinched. I honestly hadn’t recognized her. Harper. We went to high school together. The girl who had been desperately, obsessively in love with Nolan. We used to hate each other. She chased him for years. After Nolan finally rejected her, she dropped off the map. I had no idea she became a cop. “The DNA results from the corpse aren’t back yet,” Harper said coldly. “We can’t confirm if the body is Nolan, which means the man sitting next to you could easily be a hired actor.” She shifted her gaze to the man beside me. Her tone instantly softened. “Nolan? Do you remember me?” He glanced at her for a split second before dropping his head back down. I wasn’t sure if I was imagining it, but a flash of deep pain crossed Harper’s eyes. I spoke up immediately. “His brain is fried. He can’t answer anything outside of a yes or no.” Harper tapped her pen against the metal desk, her eyes narrowed in thought. “Tell me, Riley. Why was Nolan in a car crash to begin with?” My body tensed. The memories flooded back. When I first found out Nolan was cheating, I completely lost my mind. He had started getting sloppy about a year ago. A smudge of lipstick on his passenger seat. A long strand of unfamiliar hair tangled in his coat button. The endless excuses about working late, followed by nights where he just never came home. The signs were blaring like sirens. But he was smart. He physically ripped the dashcam out of his car. He wiped his phone clean every single day. I couldn’t find a shred of hard evidence. When I hysterically confronted him, all I got was his impatient, vicious yelling. “Enough! Do you have any idea how psychotic you look right now?” “You want to check my phone? Check it! But when you find absolutely nothing, you’re going to get on your knees and beg for my forgiveness!” I was completely dead inside. I had the divorce papers drafted. And then, the crash happened. He fell asleep at the wheel and drifted into an oncoming freight truck on a mountain road. I let out a bitter sigh. “Should I thank God for the karma? He crashed his car on his way to see his little mistress and turned himself into an idiot. Go pull the traffic reports. The accident is entirely documented.” Harper nodded slowly. She typed something into her phone. A moment later, a message popped up on her screen. She read it, and her face grew completely rigid. “Everything you just said checks out. But it still doesn’t prove the man sitting next to you is Nolan.” I finally snapped. “Are you insane? Look at his face! You’ve stared at him enough in high school to know what he looks like.” Harper cut me off. “Riley, I think you murdered Nolan.” I let out a harsh, incredulous laugh. “If you keep talking like this, I’m filing a formal complaint against you.” “A body gets pulled out of a river, bloated and rotting, and you’re claiming it’s Nolan just because you found his wallet nearby?” “It’s not just the wallet,” Harper said. “The height and weight of the corpse perfectly match Nolan’s last physical exam.” Her voice suddenly dropped to a fragile whisper. “And there’s a tattoo.” “The face might be decayed, but the tattoo on the inner wrist is pristine. It’s totally unique.” She swallowed hard, closing her eyes. “Because I inked it on him myself.” The interrogation room fell completely silent. The man beside me hadn’t made a sound. But the second Harper mentioned the tattoo, his fingers twitched. Without hesitation, I grabbed his arm and violently shoved his sleeve up to his elbow. Right there, on his inner wrist, was an incredibly ugly, amateur tattoo of a small dog. Harper’s face lost all its color. “Don’t tell me you gave that exact same tattoo to two different people,” I sneered. “I always wondered why a guy like him had such a pathetic piece of ink. Now I know it was your handiwork.” “Does your face hurt yet, Harper? Still want to accuse me? What is my motive for killing him?” Her brows knitted together tightly. “A tattoo can be copied…” I cut her off aggressively. “Copied? So you’re telling me I found a guy who looks identical to my husband, matches his exact physical build, and then forced him to get a matching tattoo? Why would I go through that kind of psychotic effort?” “He cheated on me, and karma turned him into a drooling idiot who relies entirely on me. If I play the role of the devoted, heartbroken wife, his wealthy parents treat me like royalty. I have total control over every cent he owns.” “If he dies, his parents swoop in and freeze his assets for probate. What exactly do I gain from him being dead?” The older detective suddenly opened the door and stepped in, coughing loudly. “Detective, watch your line of questioning. Stick to protocol.” I leaned back in my metal chair, crossing my arms with a cold smile. I wasn’t worried. Because I had never killed anyone. No matter how deep they dug, my hands were clean. What terrified me was why the dead guy had Nolan’s ID. And who the hell the dead guy actually was. I had to protect the secret of this man’s “Yes/No” truth-telling ability. If the cops found out he was a human lie detector, things would spiral out of control. Harper grilled me for another hour, but she got nowhere. Based on the estimated time of death of the river corpse, the security cameras around my house proved I had a rock-solid alibi. When Harper and the older detective stepped out to check on the DNA rush order, I leaned in close to the man beside me. “Is the real Nolan dead?” He stayed silent for a second, then whispered, “Yes and no.” “Everything you say is a hundred percent true, right?” “Yes.” My racing heart finally settled. I couldn’t help but mock him. “Nolan, you really are a piece of work. Cheating with some random girl, and keeping your pathetic high school stalker hung up on you for years.” “Wait. If the real Nolan is ‘Yes and no’ dead… is he a vegetable?” He thought about it. “No.” I frowned, but decided to drop it. The only thing that mattered right now was getting out of this police station. Harper walked back in. Her eyes were burning with deep, bitter frustration. “The DNA results are back. The body in the river is not Nolan. We’re running it through the national database now.” I smirked. “Great. Then we’re leaving.” She threw her arm out, blocking the door. “The dead guy isn’t Nolan, but the guy standing next to you is even weirder.” “My gut tells me he isn’t Nolan. I think you’ve hidden Nolan somewhere, and this guy is a body double.” I stared her down. “Your gut? Is this how you conduct police work, Harper? Making up conspiracy theories?” “Just a gut feeling,” she muttered with a bitter smile. “Forget it. You’re free to go.” I grabbed the man’s hand and started walking toward the exit, my heels clicking sharply against the tile. Just as we reached the hallway, Harper called out. “Wait. You said earlier he can only answer yes or no questions. Right?” A sudden, sharp spike of dread pierced my chest. Before I could react, Harper sprinted forward and grabbed the man by the wrist. “Did Riley kill the real Nolan?” I froze. And then, the man standing next to me opened his mouth, his voice crystal clear.

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1 It was my seventh year sick and I was flat broke, unable to afford tomorrow’s painkillers. My best friend, Poppy, returned to VIP clubs, auctioning herself to the highest bidder. When I arrived, muffled sounds leaked from the lounge. “Wilson, we can’t. If Five finds out—” Then his low breathing. “Something was slipped into your drink. How else do you purge it?” My nails bit into my palms until my vision blacked. Poppy later shoved crumpled bills at my bedside. “Enough for your meds.” Wilson stared at her scraped knees and bruised wrists, his eyes reddening. He turned to me, his gaze no longer loving but exhausted, resentful. “Haze, why won’t you just die? How much longer will you drag us down?” Yet after screaming, he used his blood plasma donation money to buy me soup and pills, sat gnawing a stale bagel, and draped a blanket over Poppy like she was fragile treasure. A sharp pain spread through my chest, like blades scraping bone. Tears soaked my pillow. It was okay. I was dying soon. Very soon, I’d stop being their burden. … After Wilson shouted those words, the apartment stayed quiet for a long, long time. Quiet enough for Wilson to finish choking down that stale half-bagel. He brought the hot soup over to my bed, his voice choking up as he apologized. “I am so sorry, Five. I am just… so tired.” I did not have the courage to look at him. I just kept my eyes squeezed shut, pretending to be asleep. Right before dawn, Poppy sat up on the worn-out sofa. She poked a straw into a carton of sweetened almond milk and pressed it into my hand. “Here, Five. Less sugar.” “You can’t have things too sweet right now.” Her routine was as natural and practiced as always. But when I glanced down and saw the dark purple bruises circling her wrists, my fingertips could not help but tremble. The almond milk was sweet enough. Yet it burned going down, leaving a bitter, agonizing taste in my throat. Wilson was prying the lid off the takeout soup. His hands used to be breathtaking, like they belonged to a sculptor. They were hands made for playing the piano. He used to promise me that when I finally got better, he would play a song for me with his own two hands at our wedding. But now, those hands were clumsy even just opening a plastic lid. His palms were covered in thick, yellowish calluses from blisters that had burst and healed a dozen times over at the construction site. When Wilson handed the soup to me, he blew on it out of pure habit. But a second later, as if in a complete daze, he shifted his hand and brought the plastic spoon right to Poppy’s lips. The air in the room went so still it was suffocating. All the color drained from Poppy’s face. Wilson snapped out of it. His wrist jerked, nearly spilling the broth everywhere. He awkwardly redirected the spoon back to me. I took it from him and lowered my head to take a sip. The soup was scalding. It burned the tip of my tongue. But I did not flinch. Because compared to the words Wilson had thrown at me last night. This little bit of physical pain was absolutely nothing. The three of us huddled around the tiny folding table for breakfast. Just like we had done a thousand times before. Except our breakfasts used to be loud and full of life. Poppy would try to steal the bacon off Wilson’s plate. Wilson would put on a cold face and swat her fork away. I would sit right between them, laughing so hard it triggered a coughing fit. And then Poppy would instantly snap at Wilson. “Stop making her laugh! You know her lungs can’t take it.” Back then, I always thought I was the luckiest girl in the entire world. My absolute best friend sat across from me. The love of my life sat right beside me. One on the left, one on the right. They shielded me from everything dark in the world. But now, it was the exact same table. The exact same three people. Poppy refused to look at Wilson. Wilson refused to look at her. Yet their eyes would inevitably collide in the spaces between seconds. And then they would instantly, guiltily tear their gazes apart. My throat suddenly felt tight and dry. Not because of my failing lungs. But because the fog had finally cleared, and I could see the truth. It wasn’t that they didn’t love me anymore. It was that they had fallen in love with each other. And this love had taken root and blossomed in the absolute filth of trying to buy my medicine, trying to raise my money, trying to keep me breathing. I did not even feel like I had the right to blame them. A sudden, sharp metallic taste surged up the back of my throat. I bit down on the inside of my cheek so hard I tasted copper, forcing myself not to cough up blood right in front of them. After we finished eating, Poppy stood up to clear the empty containers. As she leaned over, her collar shifted, revealing a fresh, dark hickey right beneath her collarbone. Wilson saw it. His expression shifted instantly. He took a subconscious step toward her. But he forcefully rooted himself to the spot. I pretended to be deeply engrossed in my phone, staring blankly at the screen. On the display was the hospice care DNR agreement I had signed digitally last night. Once I stopped taking the medication. My body would not last more than three days. It felt like thousands of fire ants were chewing on my bones. I was constantly in so much pain that I had to curl myself into a tight, trembling ball. When she finished cleaning, Poppy came over and sat beside me. “Five.” “When you are feeling a little better, the three of us should go get a real portrait taken.” My mind drifted back to a memory from many years ago. We had taken a picture together once. Poppy insisted on standing dead center, declaring she was the older sister and needed to protect me and Wilson. Wilson refused to accept it. He shamelessly squeezed himself right next to me. Just before the shutter clicked, he secretly laced his fingers through mine behind my back. When the photo was printed, I stared at it and smiled for days. I thought I held the whole world in my hands. Now, I looked at the two exhausted, hollowed-out faces in front of me and managed a weak smile. “When I feel better, we will go.” Tears instantly spilled from Poppy’s eyes. She quickly ducked her head to wipe them away. “It is a promise then.” I lowered my head and swallowed the last spoonful of cold soup. Inside, my heart was completely quiet. I am not going to get better. And we are not going to take that photo. Because very soon, I am going to disappear from their world entirely. When that happens. I will give them their freedom back. And I will finally release myself from this humiliating, suffocating love. That night, I woke up to the sound of fighting in the living room. Poppy sounded like she was crying. “Years ago, Five went to work at that chemical processing plant just to pay for our tuition!” “She got pulmonary fibrosis because of us! We cannot betray her like this!” A second later, I heard the rustling of clothes being roughly pulled. Wilson’s breathing grew heavy. “I know we owe her a debt we can never repay. But can you look me in the eye and say you don’t love me?” “This has nothing to do with her. This is about us.” Poppy choked out a sob. “I don’t love you.” “Listen to me, Wilson, I don’t love you!” “I don’t feel anything for… mm!” The next second, all her desperate denials were swallowed up. I lay frozen in the dark, my eyes wide open. The ceiling blurred into a shadow above me. I listened to them kissing in the living room. I listened to Poppy crying, her hands weakly pushing against his chest. And I listened as her struggles eventually faded into nothing. In that exact moment, I finally understood. Some betrayals do not start with the body. They start with pity. With one moment of weakness, one desperate urge to protect. One uncontrollable gravitational pull toward someone who understands your pain. Until slowly, you cross a line you can never come back from. A violent wave of nausea suddenly turned my stomach inside out. My chest constricted with a crushing, suffocating agony. It felt like an invisible hand had reached inside my ribcage, twisting my lungs like a wet rag. I tried to suppress it. But this illness had ravaged my body for far too long. A split second later, hot, coppery liquid erupted into my throat. I panicked, reaching out wildly to grab the tissues on the nightstand, but my limbs went completely slack, and I crashed heavily onto the hard wooden floor. The noises in the living room stopped dead. Wilson and Poppy bolted into the bedroom at the exact same time. Poppy’s hair was a mess. Her eyes were rimmed with red, and the collar of her shirt was pulled down, hanging loosely off her shoulder. When they saw me collapsed on the floor, all the blood drained from their faces. “Five!” Poppy lunged forward to hold me up. The sweet scent of her nightclub perfume mixed with the stale, cheap tobacco clinging to Wilson’s clothes. It made the nausea violently churn in my stomach again. Wilson dropped to his knees, trying to scoop me into his arms. “Five, where does it hurt?” “I am calling an ambulance. Let’s go to the hospital.” I shook my head, using every last ounce of energy I had left to force out three words. “I’m fine. Sleep.” The next morning, Poppy’s eyes were horribly swollen. She carefully took my fragile hand into hers. “Five.” “Let’s go take that photo today.” “You promised me yesterday.” Hearing this, Wilson frowned deeply. “She coughed up blood last night. Do not drag her outside today.” Poppy’s eyes immediately filled with fresh tears. “I just want one good picture of the three of us.” “Just in case…” Her voice cracked and died in her throat. I forced a faint smile. “Let’s go then.” It would be the perfect photo to use for my funeral. They both stared at me. I pretended I could not see the crushing guilt swimming in their eyes. Poppy picked the photography studio. The photographer positioned us in front of a clean, neutral backdrop. Wilson stood on my left, Poppy on my right. But the photographer looked through the lens for a few seconds, then lowered the camera with a bright smile. “Could the couple step a bit closer to each other?” He was talking about Wilson and Poppy. The oxygen instantly vanished from the room. The fake smile on Poppy’s face shattered. Wilson instinctively denied it. “We are not together.” His denial came out fast. Too fast. And the moment the words left his mouth, his eyes did not dart to me. They darted to Poppy. As if he was terrified she would be hurt by his rejection. Standing right between them, I smiled warmly and broke the silence. “It is okay. The three of us are family.” When the word ‘family’ left my lips, Poppy’s eyes instantly flooded with red. Wilson went completely rigid. But my smile was flawless. Natural. As if I truly had not noticed the overflowing, desperate love they were trying to hide from me. In the final printed photo, I stood directly in the center. Wilson and Poppy flanked my sides. But their shoulders were subconsciously angled inward, tilting toward each other. I was the only one standing perfectly straight. Looking exactly like someone who had finally learned how to bow out with grace. I slipped the photo into my bag. Right then, my phone vibrated in my pocket. An email notification popped up from the Hospice Care Center. “Miss Hazel, your application to terminate life-sustaining treatment has been confirmed.” Wilson leaned over, trying to see what I was looking at. My thumb fumbled. I could not lock the screen fast enough. But before his eyes could focus on the words, Poppy suddenly covered her mouth and let out a violent, wretched gag. Wilson’s attention snapped away from me instantly. “Poppy?” Poppy leaned against the studio wall, dry-heaving, her face the color of chalk. I stared at her pale, sweaty forehead, and a sudden thought pierced through the fog in my brain. She had not bought tampons in a very long time. An absurd, terrifying realization began to float up from the darkest corner of my mind. But before I could even process the thought, a catastrophic, tearing pain ripped through my chest. I doubled over, vomiting a massive puddle of dark red blood onto the white studio floor. Wilson whipped his head around. For a fraction of a second, absolute panic flashed in his eyes. But Poppy let out another agonizing gag, her knees buckling as she collapsed weakly into his chest. Wilson’s hands froze in mid-air. On one side, I was choking on my own blood, seconds away from passing out. On the other side, Poppy was pale, trembling, and entirely possibly carrying his child. Poppy gripped his shirt sleeve like a lifeline, sobbing hysterically. “Wilson, take Five to the hospital right now!” “Her lungs are failing!” My consciousness was already fraying at the edges. A high-pitched ringing echoed in my ears. But I still saw Wilson squeeze his eyes shut, his face twisting in absolute mental collapse. Suddenly, he opened his red-rimmed eyes and screamed at me. “Haze, why won’t you just fucking die?” “If you were dead, we wouldn’t have to be drowning in this misery anymore!” “Poppy wouldn’t have to suffer like this! Why won’t you just die!” Those words were a rusty knife, plunging repeatedly into my bleeding heart. I opened my mouth to speak, but only more blood spilled out over my chin. So this is it. The person who loved me most in the world. Was finally begging for me to die. Poppy slapped her hand over his mouth, sobbing uncontrollably. “Wilson, are you out of your mind?!” “How could you say that to her?” Wilson looked like he had just shocked himself. He stared down at me, profound agony and terror rapidly pooling in his eyes. But a second later, Poppy went completely limp against him. Wilson finally made his choice. He bent down and scooped Poppy into his arms. His voice was terrifyingly hoarse. It sounded like he was trying to justify it to me, but mostly trying to justify it to himself. “Five. Just this once.” “I have to take care of Poppy first.” “Just this once.” I lay crumpled on the cold floor, the world around me melting into a dark blur. All I could hear was the frantic sound of Wilson’s footsteps running toward the exit. Just before the darkness took me completely, I heard his trembling voice echo down the hall. “Poppy, that night three months ago…” “I gave you the cash. Didn’t you go to the clinic for the pill?” Poppy was crying so hard she could barely breathe. “Five was so weak after her chemo that day.” “I took that clinic money… and I bought her two hot meatball subs.” The tears finally broke free and slid down my bloody cheeks. So even this child. Was my fault. The agonizing pain in my organs crashed over me like a tidal wave, drowning me from the inside out. I lay on the freezing tile, watching their blurry silhouettes disappear. Suddenly, a thought echoed in my fading mind. Haze. Look at you. You really are the root of every horrible thing that has ever happened to them. I thrashed on the floor for a long time, waves of hot blood endlessly bubbling up my throat. At first, I tried to cover my mouth. Eventually, I did not even have the strength to lift my arm. The blood ran down my chin, pooling onto the studio floor, slowly blooming into a dark, terrifying crimson stain. The freshly printed photo slipped out of my pocket. In the picture, all three of us were smiling. But looking closely through my half-closed eyes, I could see Wilson and Poppy’s hands, secretly locked together behind my back. Just like how Wilson had locked his fingers with mine, all those years ago. I coughed up another mouthful of blood. This time, my breathing became incredibly shallow. So faint, it felt like the very next breath would simply refuse to come. The most beautiful memories of my life began to flash behind my eyelids. Back when we were stuck in the foster home, the summer nights were so brutally hot we couldn’t sleep. Poppy would sit next to my bed, fanning me with a piece of stiff cardboard. She would fan me and scold me at the same time. “Five, why are you always so damn fragile?” “When your big sister gets rich, I’m going to buy you ten air conditioners.” Wilson would sit by the open window, practicing. He didn’t have a piano, so he drew black and white keys on a long strip of paper. His fingertips struck the paper silently, over and over again. He said, “When I finally make it to the biggest concert hall in the city…” “The dead-center seat in the front row belongs to Five.” Poppy immediately kicked his shin. “What about me?” Wilson kept a straight face and replied, “You can stand by the door and tear the tickets.” We laughed until our stomachs hurt. Back then, I really believed it. I believed the bitter days would eventually end. And I believed the three of us would never, ever be torn apart. But later, to scrape together the tuition money to send them to college, I took that night-shift job at the toxic demolition site. The hazard pay was massive. Enough to cover both their tuitions in cash. I was so happy. Because ever since we were kids, Wilson and Poppy were always so much brighter, so much smarter than me. I willingly became the stepping stone. I hoisted them up toward a better life. And then, one medical report shattered every beautiful dream we had. They dropped out of college. They started working themselves into the ground. Love and ambition were aggressively ground into dust by an endless mountain of hospital bills. Suddenly, my body felt weightless. So light, as if all the agonizing pain, the IV needles, the crushing guilt of the last seven years… Had finally detached from my soul. My life was actually very short. Too short to ever put on a wedding dress. Too short to see Wilson walk onto a grand stage. Too short to see Poppy buy those ten air conditioners. But it was also so incredibly long. Long enough that the torture after every chemo session felt like walking through hell with no exit. Long enough to watch the two people who loved me most drag themselves into the gutter just to keep me breathing. They used to be so good. They really were good people. It was just that fate was too cruel. It squeezed us until we morphed into monsters we didn’t even recognize. I remembered the day the three of us went to get our legal IDs. I was supposed to be named Hazel, but the social worker messed up the paperwork and wrote Haze. Poppy was furious. She almost threw a chair at the worker, screaming that ‘Haze’ sounded like fading away, like disappearing into nothing. Wilson just smiled, gently rubbing the top of my head. “Then I’ll be the wind,” he said. “I’ll always be there to clear the sky for our little Haze.” What a sick joke fate played. He couldn’t clear the sky for me, and he ultimately lost himself in the dark, too. Looking back on it now, my life really was just like a patch of fog. Nobody asked for it to be there, and everyone was just waiting for it to finally dissipate. How fitting. As the very last drop of energy left my broken body, I closed my eyes for a long, long time. … Wilson carried Poppy all the way back to their cramped apartment. The second he kicked the door shut, Poppy finally broke down and sobbed loudly. “Tomorrow morning, I am going to the clinic. I’m getting rid of it.” “From now on, we dedicate everything to Five. We can never, ever cross that line again…” Wilson’s eyes were bloodshot. It looked like he couldn’t physically handle hearing another word. He violently yanked her by the waist and crashed his lips onto hers. He shoved every apology, every ounce of self-hatred, right back down her throat. Tears were still streaming down Poppy’s cheeks. But the hands she used to push against his chest slowly, inevitably, wrapped around his neck. The heavy, tangled sounds of their breathing entirely drowned out the quiet buzz of a cell phone on the table. Neither of them saw the text message lighting up the screen. “Are you the registered family member of Haze?” “Please come to City General Hospital immediately to sign the remains release forms.”

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1 On the anniversary of my grandmother’s death, I went home to sort through the things she had left behind. I also dragged out a few old cardboard boxes to sell for scrap. That was when I ran into my ex-boyfriend and my ex-best friend, whom I had not seen in years. Three years ago, on the eve of my wedding, I caught them in bed together. Marcus Hale had stepped in front of Selena Brooks without hesitation. “If you want to blame someone, blame me, Natalie. I’m the one at fault. I fell in love with Selena. I dragged her into this. Don’t blame her.” Selena had cried so prettily, all trembling shoulders and tear-bright eyes. “Natalie, I’m sorry. Marcus and I truly love each other. Please just let us be together.” I had been so furious I slapped them both on the spot. I called Selena shameless. Called her out for seducing someone else’s fiancé. The next day, Marcus took his revenge. He got ahead of the story and spread rumors everywhere that I had cheated first. He used AI to generate explicit videos of me and circulated them. Then he brought people to my home and trashed the place. My grandmother, who had a heart condition, was so frightened and enraged that she suffered an attack and died on the spot. After that, I cut Marcus out of my life completely and left the city. Now, three years later, the two of them stood in front of me dressed head to toe in designer labels. Marcus frowned. “Natalie King. Have these three years been that hard on you? You’re collecting trash now?” Selena was all warm concern. “Exactly, Nat. Where have you been all these years? If you’re struggling, you can tell us. Marcus’s business has grown so much now. Our company is about to go public. We’re not short on money.” “There’s no need to pick through trash. And look at you. You don’t even dress yourself up anymore.” What they did not know was that any random bracelet in my jewelry cabinet was worth more than their company’s market value. “Nat, if you’re having trouble, you really have to tell us. Don’t keep everything bottled up.” Selena smiled at me with false warmth. I felt sick. I pulled my hand free. “No need. I was just clearing out garbage.” Clearly, Selena did not believe me. She grabbed my hand again. “Why are you being so polite with us? Have you forgotten? We used to be best friends. If life is really hard, I have some spare cash. I can lend it to you. Don’t worry about losing face.” “And…” She glanced at the old neighborhood behind me. “You’re living here now?” “This place isn’t safe. You should move somewhere else.” “How about this? I have an apartment downtown sitting empty. Why don’t you stay there for now?” “No.” I refused again and turned to leave. But she held me back. “Are you still holding a grudge over what happened back then? But it’s been so long. No matter how angry you are with us, you can’t risk your health like this.” “Selena’s right.” Marcus shoved a bank card into my hand. “There’s fifty thousand in here. Take it for now.” “Oh, right. Lila’s getting married today. We were just heading over to her wedding. We’re all friends, so you should come too.” Selena latched onto my arm and forced me into the car. On the way, the two of them performed the role of loving husband and wife in front of me, sweet and inseparable. I had no interest in watching. I took out my phone and sent a message to the person waiting for me, telling him I would be late. Then I looked out the window. Selena’s words had dragged up memories I had buried. Lila Grant had been my college classmate. Theirs too. Three years ago, I cut ties with everyone from my past, so of course I had no idea today was her wedding day. Selena chatted eagerly, then suddenly asked, “By the way, Nat, it’s been so long. You must have a boyfriend by now, right? Don’t tell me you’re still single.” “I’m married,” I said flatly. The car went silent for a beat. Selena covered her mouth in shock. “Really? Something that big happened and you didn’t tell us? When did it happen? Who is he? Bring him out for us to meet someday. We were so close before.” The excitement in her eyes was almost impossible to hide. She looked me up and down. “Two years ago. He’s busy. No need.” “Two years ago?” Marcus slammed the brakes. “Natalie, I know you still resent me for what happened, but you don’t need to invent some man just to make me angry. Two years ago, we had barely been apart. You’re telling me you married someone else?” “You’re overthinking it. I have no obligation to lie to you.” “Marcus,” Selena said quickly, “maybe Natalie really did find someone she can spend her life with.” “What kind of man lets her live like this?” “Oh, what do you mean, like this? Who says marriage has to be about money? Maybe he treats Nat very well. Maybe he’s responsible.” The two of them went back and forth. I turned my head toward the window. Soon, we arrived. Selena warmly pulled me out of the car. “You haven’t contacted us for three years. I missed you so much. Thank goodness you’re back. We can be together again.” I frowned and pushed her away. “Stay away from me.” She looked helpless. “Nat, did I do something wrong? Do you hate me?” I stared at her and suddenly found it absurd. Was she asking on purpose? Or had her memory rewritten itself? She stole my fiancé. She caused the death of the grandmother who had raised me. And she still had the nerve to say these things. If this had been a few years ago, I might have gone mad with rage and grabbed her by the hair. But now, all I felt was calm. “You’re overthinking it.” “Selena!” A surprised voice rang out. Lila, dressed in her wedding gown, ran over. The two women hugged. Then Lila noticed me standing off to the side. “This is… Natalie?” “Natalie, my God. It’s been years. How did you end up looking so… worn down?” At once, everyone else turned to look. They were old classmates. Naturally, they knew some of what had happened between us. And naturally, none of them hesitated to side with Selena. They made jokes at my expense without the slightest restraint. “Yeah, Natalie, I heard you left Harbor City after breaking up with Marcus. You must have had a tough time all these years.” “Look at her. What is she even wearing? It looks like something from a street stall.” “If I looked like that, I wouldn’t have the nerve to come. Standing next to Selena, she looks like a clown.” Because it was my grandmother’s death anniversary, I had worn simple, muted clothes. But the fabric, the cut, the design, all of it had been custom-made by a private designer. Money could not buy it. Lila took my hand. “Natalie, you must really have struggled all these years. You can’t even bear to buy yourself decent clothes. Oh, right, Selena said you got married. Who is your other half? Why didn’t you bring him for us to see?” “Yes, yes, we’re all curious what Natalie’s husband looks like.” “Natalie used to be the beauty of our class. Her husband must be amazing, right?” Selena had been with me the whole time. She had no chance to tell them in person. Which meant she had told them in a group chat. So they still had a group. Of course they did. I had cut them off for years. It was normal that I did not know. Someone snickered. “Look at the state she’s in. What kind of good husband could she have found? If he were any good, would he let her wear cheap clothes? Class beauty? Please. If Marcus hadn’t liked her back then, would she ever have been put on that pedestal?” “Exactly. She probably married some poor, honest guy.” “Nothing like our Selena. Marcus is a CEO now, and their company is about to go public.” “Natalie, why aren’t you saying anything? Is he too embarrassing to talk about?” Lila added another jab. Then someone said jokingly, “Don’t tell me her husband is too shameful to show.” The room burst into laughter. No matter what they said, I had no desire to respond. All I could think about was how to find an excuse to leave. My husband and my little one were still waiting for me. Thinking of them warmed my heart. The corners of my mouth lifted before I even realized it. When I looked up, I met Marcus’s complicated gaze. “Natalie. Does he treat you badly?” “Huh?” “If you’re in trouble, you can tell me anytime.” So my silence had become, in his mind, a painful inability to speak. Suddenly, he stepped forward. “If things are really hard, you can come to me directly. After all, we used to…” “You’re overthinking it. I have something to do. I’m leaving.” I cut him off. I made up a random excuse and stood. He looked at me with pained eyes. Great. What tragic fantasy had he invented now? “Natalie,” Selena called after me, “our company’s IPO celebration is in two days. Come if you’re free.” “Oh, right. Your grandmother’s blessing charm is still with me. You left it behind back then. I haven’t been able to contact you all these years, so I never had a chance to return it.” I had been about to refuse. But when I heard the second half, I hesitated. She said it on purpose. She knew I would refuse otherwise. In the end, I agreed. I wanted to see what she was trying to do. “I’ll drive you.” At the intersection, Marcus pulled up beside me. I hesitated for one second, then got in. “Where do you live now?” “South End Old Lane, number seventy-eight. Just drop me there.” Marcus frowned. “You still live there? That area’s about to be demolished. He lets you live in a place like that?” South End Old Lane, number seventy-eight, was where my grandmother had lived. It was also where I had lived for more than twenty years. There had indeed been rumors of demolition recently. But Sebastian Ford had bought the entire area. Because I had once said I could not bear to lose it. I was too lazy to explain, so I gave a faint hum. Marcus got angry instead. “Natalie King! What kind of attitude is that? After leaving me, you just gave up on yourself? You don’t even take your own marriage seriously?” “If it’s really not working, divorce him.” If Sebastian heard that, he would probably sulk for half a month. Thankfully, we had arrived. I opened the door and got out. “No need. Goodbye.” Then I left without looking back. Most people had moved out of the old neighborhood. Only a few elderly residents remained. The stairwell was dim, and I felt my way up to the seventh floor. When I opened the door, my grandmother’s portrait sat in the center of the room. I walked forward and lit three sticks of incense. Then I sat down and talked to her. As I spoke, I nearly fell asleep. My phone rang. It was a video call from Sebastian. “Mommy!” As soon as I answered, a milky little voice popped out. My son’s face filled most of the screen. “Mommy, Daddy said after he finishes work in two days, he’ll bring Ollie to see you. Mommy, Ollie misses you so much.” His voice was soft and sweet. He clung to the call for a long time before finally handing the phone to Sebastian. The man’s deep-set eyes looked tired. “How have the past two days been?” “Fine.” Sebastian and I met a little over two years ago. At that time, I had just crawled out of the relationship that Marcus had left in ruins. To heal myself, I carried a sketchboard and traveled all over the world. Mountains, rivers, cities, oceans. Sebastian was the model I happened to meet one day. I saw him as my muse. The source of my inspiration. I created painting after painting because of him. And he told me he had never met a woman as unusual as I was. Somewhere along the way, we fell in love. Later, I asked him what made me so unusual. He said, “Other women who see me want to attach themselves to me. They want some benefit from me. But you only wanted me to model for you. That was strange.” I said, “Doesn’t making you model count as a benefit?” He laughed. “Natalie, you’re adorably foolish.” I was foolish. Otherwise, how could I have failed to realize for so long that my so-called best friend had been stealing my fiancé? Only later did I learn that Sebastian had been born into a powerful, rigid family. The schemes, the hierarchy, the endless fight for profit had kept him on guard his whole life. He said that being with me gave him a kind of peace he had never known. We were two wounded people warming each other. Then Ollie came along. And our little family became even more beautiful. Two days passed quickly. Soon, it was the day of Marcus’s company celebration. Selena sent me a message reminding me to come. I replied: Okay. That afternoon, I took a cab to the venue. But I was stopped at the entrance. “Sorry, no invitation, no entry. Do you have an invitation?” The security guard looked me up and down. “No.” His attitude immediately turned sharp. “Then what are you doing here? Do you know what kind of place this is? Today is the day Hale Group celebrates its listing. Random people can’t just wander in.” I was shoved back. Suddenly, someone gasped. “Isn’t that Natalie King? Marcus Hale’s ex-girlfriend.” “It really is. Mrs. Hale, isn’t that your son’s ex?” It was Marcus’s mother, surrounded by a group of wealthy ladies. At that, Mrs. Hale’s smile froze. She rushed over at once. “Natalie King. It really is you. After betraying my son and running off with some man, you still have the nerve to come back?” “Don’t tell me you saw my son succeeding now, saw his company going public, and came back to get a piece of the pie.” “Let me warn you. If you dare cause trouble, I’ll expose everything you did back then.” The others looked at me with disgust. “I heard she cheated before the wedding and broke Marcus’s heart. Thank goodness Selena was there for him later.” “Exactly. Some people really have no shame.” Mrs. Hale squared her shoulders. “Did you hear me? Get out!” “Selena invited me.” “Selena invited you? Do you think I’ll believe that?” Only then did I realize that after I left, Marcus had not only painted himself as the perfect victim. He had also made Selena his savior. In the end, I, the actual victim, had become the only villain. How ironic. I took out my phone to message Selena. But someone slapped it out of my hand. “What? Planning to call my son? You think he’ll soften up and take you back?” “Dream on. Get out right now!” I picked up my phone and tried again. But the screen had gone black. I could not send a message. I could not even make a call. “Mom, what are you doing?” Marcus and Selena walked over. Mrs. Hale rushed to complain. “Son, look at this woman. She must have seen you’ve made something of yourself and come back for benefits. I was helping you chase her away.” “Mom, Natalie hasn’t had it easy these years. Let it go. It’s all in the past.” Marcus spoke. Selena echoed him, stepping forward to take my hand. “Nat, you finally came. I was going to have someone pick you up, but today was so busy I forgot. Oh, right, where’s your husband? Didn’t he come with you?” “No.” “What a shame. I was hoping there would be a few industry leaders here today. I could introduce you and your husband to some job opportunities.” She looked like a generous rich wife offering charity to a beggar. I frowned and pulled my hand away. “The blessing charm.” She froze. “Oh, look at me. I was in such a rush that I left it upstairs. Come in with me first. I’ll go get it for you later.” I had planned to take it and leave. Now I had no choice but to go inside. All along the way, people whispered behind me. “Selena really is generous.” “Exactly. Anyone else would’ve kicked her out long ago.” “I still have that video from back then saved.” Inside the hall, a small figure suddenly darted out and shoved me hard. I fell to the floor. “Bad woman! Don’t get close to my daddy!” “Hugo, don’t act up!” Marcus hurried forward and picked up the boy. Selena smiled apologetically. “I’m sorry, Natalie. He’s still young. He doesn’t know better.” I held out my hand again. “The charm. Give it to me. I’m leaving.” “You vixen! You’re the one seducing my husband, aren’t you?” Suddenly, a force grabbed my shoulder. A slap landed hard across my face. A woman rushed at me like a madwoman, grabbing my hair and tearing at it. “No wonder my husband keeps coming home in the middle of the night lately. If I hadn’t seen the photos, I really would’ve thought he was working late.” “You shameless vixen! How dare you seduce my man!” She shoved me to the ground. Just then, the main doors opened. Someone shouted, “It looks like Mr. Ford. Mr. Ford is here!” All sound vanished. Everyone turned toward the entrance.

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It was midnight. I sat in the recovery room. There wasn’t a single word of concern from my boyfriend, much less a “Happy Birthday.” Instead, the forums exploded with news: **[Campus Heartthrob Liam Speeding on Winding Roads Just to Win a Medal for His First Love, Victoria!]** My chest felt like it was being ripped open. Days of pent-up grievances made me cry for a full two hours. Finally, dragging my post-abortion body, I made my way home. Pushing open the door, Liam was sitting in his wheelchair. “Where have you been so late? Get me a glass of water.” I ignored him, my gaze fixed on his legs. He had been in that wheelchair for three whole years. Yet today, just to please his idealized first love, his years of “disability” had miraculously vanished. All these years, I had worked myself to the bone, saving up for his medical treatment, juggling two jobs day in and day out just to get by. Last week, I found out I was pregnant. Fearing it would affect his treatment, I quietly bought medication and aborted the child alone. But his disability was all an act. “Didn’t you hear me?” he prompted again. Amidst the numbness, I softly uttered three words: “Let’s break up.” 0

Liam froze, his hearing aid lying nearby. “What did you say? I’m not wearing my hearing aid, I can’t hear you clearly.” His ears were also damaged in that car accident three years ago. That accident stemmed from our fierce argument back then. We were bickering endlessly about breaking up, arguing from inside the house to the street, and he got distracted and was hit by a car. The subsequent disability and hearing impairment became his unwavering excuse to cling to me. And my insistence on breaking up initially was only because he had hidden from me that he was going to participate in a race on the winding mountain road. My mother had died in a car crash on that very same mountain road. But he was bent on his own way, entering the race solely to help Victoria win a medal. That medal was his obsession, something he was willing to risk danger and even death for, just for Victoria. It was his public declaration of undying devotion. At this moment, he raised his hand, put on his hearing aid, and waited for my reply. “Let’s break up.” I repeated it, filled with nothing but utter despair. Liam instantly exploded in rage, raising his hand and forcefully smashing one of the hearing aids to the ground. *Bang!* A piercing shattering sound echoed. It wasn’t just the device that broke. It was all the foolishness of my heart and soul over these years. I couldn’t be bothered to deal with him anymore. This guy, a leopard never changes its spots; I wanted nothing more to do with him. I turned and walked into the room, starting to pack my luggage. My swift and decisive actions made him realize my determination to leave. Realizing this, he quickly maneuvered his wheelchair to block my way. “Are you throwing a tantrum because I forgot your birthday?” “I really was held up today, but I still got you a cake in the fridge.” Just as I was about to expose all his lies, a knock suddenly came from the door. Opening it, I saw it was Victoria. “Liam’s ring was left at my place, so I brought it over.” I lowered my gaze to the ring. This wasn’t the couple’s ring Liam and I shared. Looking up, I saw Victoria wearing an identical ring on her hand. The mockery in my heart almost overflowed. Victoria had only been back for two days, and he had not only replaced that old medal but also prepared matching couple’s rings long ago. His hidden favoritism was far greater than I had imagined. Victoria’s smile was gentle: “It’s late, but happy birthday anyway, Sophia.” “I’m so sorry, I took up your boyfriend’s entire day today.” Liam pushed his wheelchair to the door: “Don’t overthink it, Sophia. Victoria hasn’t been back in the country for a long time; I should naturally entertain her.” I retorted coldly, “You, a disabled person with limited mobility, find it convenient to entertain old friends, do you?” These words completely ignited his anger: “What’s that supposed to mean?” I directly exposed him: “You like Victoria, you’re biased towards Victoria…” “Stop being unreasonable!” he harshly interrupted me. “You’re my girlfriend, you’re the only one I like.” Before his words even finished, the entire house suddenly shook violently! An earthquake! Glass bottles on the shelves crashed down. *Clatter, clatter!* Victoria and I both fell to the ground. My palm landed squarely on the shattered glass. A sharp, stinging pain instantly swept through my body… “Victoria!” And at that moment, Liam abruptly stood up from his wheelchair. He strode over, pulled Victoria into his arms, and swiftly shielded her in the corner, protecting her firmly with his entire body. I was trapped in the shaking room, isolated and helpless. Glass shards in my palm cut me, leaving my hand a bloody mess. The sight of him desperately protecting the woman he loved was so deeply moving. Yet, just a second ago, he was still claiming he loved me. How utterly laughable… 0

The tremors gradually subsided, leaving only chaos on the floor. Liam settled Victoria safely, then belatedly turned around. His gaze fell on my bleeding hand: “Sophia, are you alright!” “How did you manage to hit the glass?” “Come on, I’ll take you to the hospital!” I pulled my hand away. Looking at him standing steadily, a cold mockery rose in my throat. “Your legs certainly recovered quickly.” He stiffened abruptly, his panic impossible to hide, and he mumbled an explanation. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to lie to you, I was desperate.” “I truly love you, Sophia.” “But you insisted on breaking up, and I really had no choice but to resort to that.” I didn’t want to debate whether he loved me or not. I slowly raised my hand and picked up the ring Victoria had just delivered. The cold metal pressed against my fingertips, and against my already tattered heart. “How many more things are you hiding from me?” “You said your family went bankrupt, living was tough.” “But I’ve seen this ring before; it’s worth a seven-figure sum.” “What you gave me were cheap trinkets that faded after a few wears and caused me recurring skin allergies.” “Now this sky-high ring is given to Victoria.” “Did you buy it by borrowing everywhere, or did your family overcome their difficulties long ago?” Seeing that I had exposed him, he stopped pretending. The last trace of guilt vanished from his face, and he simply admitted it. “You’re right, I lied to you about that too.” “My family’s troubles passed a long time ago.” “But what’s your status, Sophia, and what’s Victoria’s status?” “I can’t possibly treat her with the same standards I treat you.” I looked up at him, my eyes filled with disbelief. “So, ultimately, I’m just not worthy?” His high-sounding words even made me laugh. “I only deserve these bargain-bin items, is that right?” He frowned, full of impatience and disdain. “What’s with this drama, Sophia?” “Things have been this way for years, haven’t they? Just know your place and that’s enough.” “Why do you have to compare yourself to Victoria? She comes from a privileged background; she naturally deserves the best of everything.” “Are you clinging to all this because you’re just a gold-digger?” “A gold-digger?” Those two words were like a sharp knife, piercing deep into my gut. Years of accumulated grievances broke through my defenses, and I couldn’t hold back anymore, bursting into tears. “Ask me how I’ve survived all these years!” “I scrimped on food and clothes, wearing old outfits over and over, juggling two jobs.” “Every penny I saved went to your so-called medical treatment.” “When I got pregnant, I couldn’t even afford a proper $2,000 procedure, so I secretly bought cheap medication for an at-home abortion.” “And on my birthday, of all days, I lay alone in the recovery room, in agony!” “Now you’re twisting the facts and calling me a gold-digger?” Liam froze, speechless, and demanded, “What did you say? You were pregnant?” I didn’t want to look at him any longer. The wound in my palm was still oozing blood. Warm liquid slowly dripped through my fingers. Biting my lip, I turned and stumbled out. Behind me, hurried footsteps followed. Liam rushed to catch up. 0

I ran like crazy, desperate to escape this suffocating situation. Behind me, besides Liam’s footsteps, Victoria also chased after us. “Sophia, please don’t be angry, okay?” “Liam didn’t intentionally neglect you; it’s just that I just got back to the country, and he had to take care of me out of politeness.” “Be a bit more understanding; don’t fight with him.” Every word seemed to be comforting, but in reality, she was subtly implying I was making a big deal out of nothing and being immature. I couldn’t be bothered with her and didn’t stop running for a second. After only a few steps, a delicate cry suddenly came from behind. Victoria sharply twisted her ankle, falling to the ground and clutching her ankle tightly. The next second, Liam, who had been vaguely chasing me, instantly changed direction. He rushed over, carefully protecting her. The worry in his eyes was undeniable. It was the same concern he had shown for years. The churning pain in my chest completely crushed all my rationality. I lost myself, forgetting I was still standing in the middle of a busy street. A blinding headlight suddenly hit me, too fast to react. A violent impact instantly swept through my body, and I was thrown hard to the ground. In the last moment of my fading consciousness, I looked up at them. Liam never looked back. His eyes were only on Victoria’s sprained ankle. He bent down, picked her up, and walked straight away. He didn’t care about me at all. When I opened my eyes again, I was already in a VIP hospital room. The driver who had hit me was standing beside the bed. He busied himself with paying my bills and completing all the paperwork. He handled all the tedious procedures perfectly. He looked at me with a heart full of distress. “Miss Sophia, please come home with me.” “Mr. Richard has seen how much you’ve suffered, and he’s heartbroken.” I didn’t speak, just wanted to get out of bed and walk on my own. As I reached the door, the conversation from the next room came through clearly. It was Liam and his friends. Someone spoke first, with a hint of mockery. “You couldn’t have missed the car hitting her on the road just now, could you?” Liam’s voice was flat, without a ripple of emotion. “Victoria sprained her ankle; I couldn’t just leave her.” “I glimpsed her out of the corner of my eye; Sophia was fine, she could stand.” His friend pressed on: “So how do you plan to explain it to her?” Liam chuckled, full of indifference. “Just say my hearing aid ran out of battery, and I didn’t hear or notice.” Someone next to him scoffed. “Your fake hearing loss is truly a universal excuse.” “Normally, you use it to avoid her nagging; in critical moments, you can even openly favor Victoria.” I froze at the door. So, all those years I leaned beside him, pouring out my grievances and hardships day and night, He heard every single word. It wasn’t that he couldn’t hear; he simply didn’t care to listen. Someone else asked: “All things considered, do you even like Sophia?” Liam was silent for two seconds. “After all this time, saying I don’t like her would be a lie.” “But she’s like a roadside stall—tasty, satisfying, easy to win over.” “Still, a roadside stall can never be presentable.” “Victoria is different; even if I stopped liking her, she’s still a luxury item, an antique.” “Someone I can take out to impress, someone who matches my status.” His friend teased: “You wouldn’t want both, would you?” Liam hesitated, then scoffed: “I’d definitely choose Victoria.” “I only started dating Sophia to spite Victoria in the first place.” Every word pierced deeply into my heart. Mike, the driver, stepped forward to persuade me again. “Miss, don’t try to be strong. Mr. Richard will be here any minute. Please come back with me.” I looked down, self-deprecating. “I’m just an illegitimate child, a love child who isn’t supposed to exist.” “How could he care about me? Why would he come to pick me up?” As soon as my words fell, hurried footsteps suddenly sounded. I looked up and saw my father, Richard, standing breathlessly in front of me. 0

I sat in the spacious and luxurious Richard family mansion again after many years. Everything around me was grand and opulent, yet so unfamiliar that I felt utterly out of place. Father sat opposite me, his eyes filled with weariness and guilt. “I always thought your mother was doing well with you.” “I didn’t know she passed so early. All these years, I never dared to disturb your lives.” “I only recently found out about you. You’ve suffered, and it’s my fault, Sophia.” I gently shook my head, but tears streamed uncontrollably down my face. Years of wandering and hardship flooded my mind in that moment. He looked at my reddened eyes, his tone growing more distressed. “Yesterday was your birthday, Sophia, and I missed it.” “I’ll throw you a belated birthday party, publicly announcing your identity, telling everyone you are my daughter, a Richard.” I instinctively shook my head, wanting to refuse this belated amends. It was too late; I no longer needed any of this. But Father’s attitude was exceptionally firm, not giving me a chance to decline. He immediately gave orders for the preparations of the banquet. The Richard family’s efficiency was remarkably high. Within a few days, a grand birthday banquet was meticulously arranged. Meanwhile, my phone kept vibrating non-stop. It was Liam. An endless stream of transfer notifications filled my screen, followed by his coaxing messages. He softly apologized, saying he had been momentarily confused and shouldn’t have treated me that way. I remained silent throughout. I understood his intentions too well. He wasn’t missing *me*. He only missed the Sophia who was hardworking, cheap, and easy to use. He missed the Sophia who could be used as a reference point to highlight his deep affection and devotion to Victoria. I looked up at my father beside me, my voice calm and steady. “Dad, would you mind setting me up on a blind date?” “I want to fend off these messy troubles.” Father readily agreed. “No problem, Sophia. I’ll introduce you to the most eligible bachelors in our circle.” On the night of the birthday banquet, the elite gathered; almost all the prominent figures in the city were present. Liam and his friends were also, surprisingly, on the invitation list. In a corner of the banquet hall, a few guys chatted. Someone patted Liam’s shoulder, their tone teasing. “Hey Liam, didn’t you say the other day you couldn’t get in touch with Sophia anymore?” “This newly recognized heiress of the Richard family is also called Sophia. It couldn’t be your poor girlfriend, could it?” Liam scoffed: “How could it be?” “Someone like her, an ordinary girl with nothing, how could she be a Richard heiress?” Someone nearby chimed in, with an envious tone. “I heard that tonight’s banquet isn’t just a belated birthday celebration.” “Ethan Knight from Knight Industries is also here, specifically for a blind date with the Richard heiress.” Liam’s disdain deepened, his voice certain. “Then it’s even less likely to be her.” “Someone who’ll never climb to the top, how could she be worthy of Ethan Knight?” As his words fell, the entrance to the banquet hall suddenly fell silent. I, dressed in a haute couture gown, walked slowly into the venue, side by side with Ethan Knight. My gaze fell directly on Liam. The moment our eyes met, the smile on Liam’s face instantly froze. He stared, slowly scanning me from head to toe. Taking in my expensive gown, my exquisite makeup. *Clatter!* A crisp shattering sound suddenly rang out. The high-stemmed glass in his hand crashed heavily to the ground, wine splashing everywhere.

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At the celebration dinner, I had just secured an exclusive distribution deal worth fifty million dollars, with my commission alone amounting to three million. Yet, Mrs. Smith handed a hundred-thousand-dollar cashiers check to the new intern, Brittany, who only knew how to bat her eyelashes and flirt. For me? A cheap plastic bee trophy and a fifty-dollar supermarket gift card. She looked down on me, sneering, “Luna Miller, your commission is already substantial. This hundred-thousand-dollar bonus is for the new hire, a little encouragement. Don’t be so greedy, Luna.” My colleagues erupted in laughter, enjoying my humiliation. They had no idea that I was the *sole* designated person responsible for that fifty-million-dollar contract. I smiled, placing the gift card on the table. “Fine, you can have fun with this distribution deal yourselves.” Three days later, the company’s cash flow collapsed. Mrs. Smith knelt outside my villa, banging her head on the ground until it bled. The company finally secured the fifty-million-dollar exclusive chip distribution contract. The celebration dinner was held at the city’s most expensive five-star hotel. During the banquet, all eighty-plus employees stared at the mahogany tray on the stage. Inside the tray was the highlight of the evening—the special project award. Brittany, an intern who had only been with us for three months, stood delicately on stage in a pure white designer gown, her every movement exaggerated. Mrs. Smith, beaming, picked up a hundred-thousand-dollar cashiers check from the tray and tucked it into Brittany’s hand. “Our Brittany might be new, but in this fifty-million-dollar battle, she served coffee, kept spirits high, and truly made an invaluable contribution!” “This hundred thousand is the company’s encouragement for young talent!” The room burst into applause. Brittany covered her mouth, her eyes welling up, and bowed repeatedly. “Thank you, Mrs. Smith! I promise to treat this company like my own home from now on!” After the applause died down, Mrs. Smith’s gaze swept through the crowd and landed on me, sitting in a corner. Her smile instantly faded a bit, replaced by a look of lofty condescension. “Next, our project’s main force, Luna Miller.” From the very bottom of the mahogany tray, she fished out an object. It was a cheap plastic bee trophy that looked like something you’d get three for ten bucks at a flea market. A crumpled piece of paper was taped to its base with clear tape—”Walmart $50 Gift Card (minimum $500 purchase)”. The entire room fell silent. Someone couldn’t hold it in and snickered. Mrs. Smith, clacking her ten-centimeter heels, walked over to me and plunked the cheap plastic trophy on my table. “Luna, you’re the company’s sales champion. For this fifty-million-dollar deal, your commission alone is three million.” “Don’t snatch this small hundred-thousand-dollar bonus from a fresh graduate. A symbolic award is enough for you. You need to have a bigger picture, don’t be so greedy.” I looked down at the plastic trophy. The劣質 (lièzhì) cheap gold paint was even flaking off. Brittany, holding the hundred-thousand-dollar check, leaned in and chirped in a voice loud enough for everyone at the table to hear: “Luna, you’re so rich, you surely don’t care about a hundred thousand dollars. You’re not mad at me, are you?” Several colleagues, always jealous of my performance, immediately started making sarcastic remarks. “Exactly, Luna’s already feasting; she should at least let us have some of the scraps.” “The richer people get, the tighter they become, even begrudging a new hire’s bonus.” “If it weren’t for the company providing the platform, could she have landed a fifty-million-dollar deal? People should know how to be grateful!” In their eyes, since I was earning the highest commission in the company, I should silently accept any insult.

I didn’t touch the plastic trophy. I looked up, meeting Mrs. Smith’s face, stiff from too much botox. “Mrs. Smith, if I’m not mistaken, the only thing Brittany did on this project was accidentally spill coffee on my original draft while I was pulling all-nighters revising the technical proposal twenty-three times.” “And I, to secure that fifty-million-dollar exclusive distribution right, practically lived under the Hayes Group building for half a month, ending up with a bleeding stomach ulcer from all the stress.” My voice wasn’t loud, but every word resonated in the quiet banquet hall. “Now you’re telling me she gets a hundred thousand, and I get a fifty-dollar discount voucher? You call that having a ‘bigger picture’?” Mrs. Smith’s face instantly changed. She slammed her hand on the table, making the wine glasses hum. “Luna Miller! What is your attitude?!” “The company pays your benefits, gives you a base salary. Clients are company resources. You just ran an errand!” “Without the company’s backing, who do you think you are for Mr. Hayes of the Hayes Group to even know your name?” She pointed at my nose, her shrill voice piercing everyone’s ears. “Don’t think just because you closed one deal, you can get a big head! The company will run perfectly fine without you!” Mr. Smith, the owner, waddled over with a glass of wine at that moment. Always one to play the good cop, he patted his beer belly and chuckled awkwardly. “Oh, Luna, Mrs. Smith speaks her mind, don’t take it to heart.” “The company’s cash flow is indeed tight lately, as we had to front the security deposit for this project. We’re all pulling through tough times together, you know.” “As a veteran employee, you should be considerate of the company’s difficulties. You’re getting so much commission from this deal, why quibble over such a small amount of money?” Considerate. Pulling through tough times together. Looking at the couple, I felt a surge of nausea. Last month, when the company was on the brink of bankruptcy, I mortgaged my own property to inject capital and help us survive the crisis. At that time, they were vacationing in Hawaii. Now that the fifty-million-dollar deal was secured, they wanted to talk about pulling through tough times together? I stood up and ripped the fifty-dollar gift card from the plastic trophy. “Since the company is in such dire straits.” I slapped the gift card onto Mr. Smith’s chest. “Keep this fifty dollars, Mr. Smith. Maybe buy some brain food.” “After all, you’ll definitely need it soon.”

“Luna Miller! You’re outrageous!” Mrs. Smith trembled with rage, pointing towards the door. “If you dare to walk out that door today, don’t bother coming to work tomorrow!” “Not only won’t you come to work, but you won’t get a single cent of your three million commission either!” The entire room fell silent. Everyone gasped. Three million dollars in commission — that was an astronomical figure. Brittany, nearby, fanned the flames. “Luna, quickly apologize to Mrs. Smith. Losing three million just because you’re stubborn isn’t worth it, is it?” I gave her a cold glance. “That three million is written in my employment contract and project commission agreement.” “Mrs. Smith, if you have the guts to withhold it, we’ll see each other in court.” I picked up my bag and walked out of the banquet hall without looking back. As the door closed behind me, I could still hear Mrs. Smith’s furious curses: “See you in court, then! I’d like to see what Luna Miller is without our company’s platform!” “Brittany! Starting tomorrow, you’re taking over all Hayes Group deals!” “I’ll make her realize that the world keeps turning without her!” I stood in the cold wind outside the hotel entrance and lit a cigarette. I took a deep drag and exhaled a long plume of smoke. The core of the Hayes Group’s fifty-million-dollar exclusive distribution rights wasn’t the company’s platform at all. It was that Aiden Hayes, the CEO of Hayes Group, only recognized *me*, Luna Miller. No one else knew about the additional clauses in that contract. They wanted it? Then let them have it. I just feared that hot potato, however, would burn them to ashes, skin and bone.

The next morning, I punched in for work as usual. As I walked to my cubicle, I saw my computer had already been removed. Only a cardboard box remained on my desk, haphazardly stuffed with a few of my mugs and notebooks. Brittany was sitting in my executive chair, showing off her newly bought designer bag. Seeing me, she immediately stood up, putting on an innocent, almost saccharine expression. “Luna, don’t blame me. Mrs. Smith said since your attitude was bad, I should take over the Hayes project.” “She told me to take over all your client files today.” I looked at her manipulative smile, lacking even the desire to be angry. Just then, Ms. Davis from HR sent out a company-wide email. Subject: Important Notice Regarding Client Resource Ownership and Prohibiting Personal Appropriation of Company Assets. The email subtly accused me of being arrogant and self-important, threatening immediate termination and forfeiture of all commission if I refused to hand over my responsibilities. Immediately after, Mr. Smith’s secretary walked over and said coldly, “Luna Miller, the boss wants you in the conference room.” I pushed open the conference room door. Mr. and Mrs. Smith were already sitting inside. Two documents lay on the table. One was an “Unconditional Client Resource Transfer Agreement.” The other, a “Voluntary Commission Waiver Agreement.” Mrs. Smith was wearing a striking red business suit today, exuding confidence, as if she had found my Achilles’ heel. “Luna Miller, yesterday I saved you some face outside.” She threw a pen onto the table, making a sharp clattering sound. “Sign these two documents, hand over all contact information for Hayes Group liaisons, technical drafts, and pricing models.” “Considering your past efforts, I’ll let you leave gracefully.” I glanced at the commission waiver agreement and nearly laughed out loud. “Mrs. Smith, is robbery this blatant these days?” Mr. Smith cleared his throat, his face stern. “Luna, don’t use such harsh words. Clients belong to the company; you’re just an executor. Now the company has decided to change executors, so just cooperate.” “If you don’t cooperate, according to company regulations, for causing significant project losses, we will not only fire you but also sue you for damages!” Threatening me? I pulled out a chair and calmly sat down. “Alright, a handover, you say?” I pulled out a thick stack of documents from my bag and slapped them onto the table. “These are all the project milestones, contacts, and preferred communication methods for the Hayes Group.” “I’ve organized everything.” Mrs. Smith’s eyes lit up, and she pounced on the documents like a hungry wolf, snatching them into her hands. She flipped through a couple of pages and laughed triumphantly. “Smart of you. But you also have to sign this commission waiver agreement.” I leaned back in my chair, crossing my arms. “I won’t give up a single cent of my commission. If you want to withhold it, by all means, try.” “As for the client handover, I’ve handed it over. Can you even manage it?”

“What a joke!” Mrs. Smith slammed the documents onto the table. “It’s just the Hayes Group! What’s so great about it?!” “Brittany!” She called out towards the door. Brittany scampered in like an obedient puppy. “Mrs. Smith, you called?” Mrs. Smith pointed at the phone number of the Hayes Group’s Director of Procurement on the document. “Call it now! Put it on speaker! Let certain conceited people hear that without her, Hayes’s money will still hit our company’s account!” Brittany pulled out her latest iPhone and dialed the number. The conference room was so quiet you could hear a pin drop. “Beep—beep—” The call connected. “Who is this?” A cold, crisp female voice came through. Brittany immediately put on a sickly sweet, high-pitched voice. “Hello, are you Director Wang of the Hayes Group? This is Brittany, the new manager for the fifty-million-dollar distribution project~” There was three seconds of silence on the other end. “My name isn’t Wang, it’s Zhao. You don’t even know the name of your point person?” Brittany’s face stiffened, and she looked to Mrs. Smith for help. Mrs. Smith snatched the phone and shouted into the microphone: “Director Zhao, is it? I’m Mrs. Smith, the owner of your supplier company! The fifty-million-dollar contract has been signed, and the first payment of twenty million must be transferred today!” Her tone wasn’t like someone chasing a payment; it was more like a gangster collecting protection money in a back alley. Director Davies on the other end let out a cold laugh. “Mrs. Smith? I don’t care who you are. According to Article Seven of the contract, before payment, you need to submit the underlying architecture authorization for the core A.I. chip, and it must be personally signed and confirmed by Ms. Miller.” “Where is the authorization?” Mrs. Smith froze, turning to glare at me. “What authorization? Why don’t I know about this?” I shrugged, saying nothing. Mrs. Smith could only grit her teeth and shout into the phone, “What authorization? The contract is signed, just send the money! Luna Miller has been fired, and Brittany will manage the project from now on!” As soon as she said that, the air pressure on the other end of the line instantly dropped to freezing. “Fired?” Director Davies’s voice turned completely cold. “Your company unilaterally replacing the core technical liaison and failing to provide the authorization constitutes a fundamental breach of contract.” “Payment processing is immediately terminated. Our legal department will send you a termination letter within the hour.” “Beep—” The call was ruthlessly disconnected. The busy signal echoed in the conference room, like a loud slap across Mrs. Smith’s face.

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In my past life, my best friend, an influencer with a million followers, sold my private schedule and my fear of men to a crazed male fan, all for the sake of a “viral hit.” She called it “testing a boyfriend’s protective instincts.” When that man, knife in hand, dragged me into a dark alley, she hid behind the camera, excitedly counting the skyrocketing traffic. My boyfriend, Ethan, lost control trying to save me, injured the man, and was vilified online as a “violent maniac” and sent to prison. I was labeled a “drama queen seeking attention” and, in despair, jumped from a high-rise. When I opened my eyes again, I was back at the “desensitization test” party she had meticulously arranged for me. Looking at the spiked drink she offered, I smiled. This time, I wouldn’t just tear up her script; I’d make her personally experience what a *real* live broadcast of despair felt like. The deafening bass pounded against my eardrums, and colorful spotlights, like venomous snake tongues, slithered across the dim private room. I jolted awake, cold sweat instantly soaking my back. As my vision focused, a delicate yet sickening face filled my view. “Alice, what are you spacing out for? Drink up, the ‘desensitization game’ is about to begin tonight.” Chloe smiled brightly, swirling a crimson cocktail in her hand, holding it to my lips. I stared at the drink, my fingertips trembling uncontrollably. Not from fear, but from the bone-deep hatred screaming in my veins. I was reborn. Back to my junior year of college, at this so-called “androphobia desensitization party” Chloe had organized for me. In my previous life, it was at this very party that I drank this glass of wine, laced with a potent hallucinogen and sleeping pills. Afterward, she locked me in a dark utility closet at the end of the hallway, claiming it was a “game segment.” Waiting for me there wasn’t some game NPC, but a perverted male fan who had paid a hefty sum for my “first fright experience.” That man covered my mouth, tore at my clothes, and the blade of his folding knife grazed my cheek. And Chloe, my “best friend,” the female empowerment blogger with a million followers, was hiding behind a discreet camera in the ventilation duct, excitedly watching the donations and traffic skyrocketing on her livestream backend. Later, my boyfriend, Ethan, kicked open the door and, red-eyed, beat that man to an inch of his life. But Chloe cut out the footage of the man with the knife, cut out my pleas, and only released clips of Ethan’s beastly violence. The title: *When Your Girlfriend Is in Staged Danger, Is Your Boyfriend a Protector or a Violent Maniac?* Ethan was jailed, his future ruined. I was slut-shamed by the entire internet and eventually leapt from the twenty-eighth floor. “Alice? What’s wrong? You look so pale, are you scared?” Chloe’s voice snapped me out of my memories. She leaned closer, her eyes glittering with undisguised excitement and greed, like she was looking at a trending product about to hit the shelves. “Don’t be scared, I’m here. It’s more impactful if it’s real, right?” *More impactful if it’s real.* There it was again, that utterly disgusting line. I took a deep breath, suppressing the churning in my stomach, and a chilling smile touched my lips. “Alright,” I said, taking the glass. My fingertips traced the cold glass. “But this drink’s color is too vibrant; I don’t really like it.” I picked up another glass of sparkling water from the table. “I’ll drink this.” Chloe’s face subtly shifted, a flicker of panic in her eyes. She reached out to grab my glass. “Oh, no, that one’s mine! This one is my special ‘Water of Courage’ just for you.” Just as she leaned in to lunge for it, I flicked my wrist, my finger subtly nudging the powder hidden under my fingernail into her glass. It was a spare pill I’d slipped out of her bag when she’d turned away moments ago. “Since you specially prepared it, how can I be so rude as to enjoy it alone?” I smoothly crisscrossed the two glasses in the air, swapping them with lightning speed. “Cheers.” I handed the swapped cocktail back to her and tilted my head back, downing the drink that had originally been hers. Chloe paused, seemingly not catching my move. She looked at the drink in her hand suspiciously, then at me as I swallowed, finally letting down her guard. “Cheers, to your… rebirth tonight.” She smiled meaningfully, tilting her head back and drinking the glass, now double-spiked, clean. I watched her throat bob, my eyes icy. Yes, rebirth. But tonight, the one going to hell is you.

Less than ten minutes later, the drugs kicked in. Chloe’s cheeks were flushed with an unnatural color, her eyes began to glaze over, and her body swayed, slumping onto the sofa. “Alice… I’m so dizzy… Is this drink…” She weakly clutched my sleeve, her voice already slurring. I watched her with cold eyes, then grabbed her wrist and pulled her off the sofa. “Dizzy? Good. The game’s about to start.” I leaned close to her ear, my voice soft like a whisper from hell. “Didn’t you say the more real, the better?” Half-supporting, half-dragging her, I steered her away from the chaotic party-goers in the room and straight towards the utility closet at the end of the hallway. The hallway lights flickered dimly, and the air was thick with the pungent mix of cheap perfume and alcohol. The utility closet door was ajar, a suffocating darkness seeping from within. I pushed the door open and shoved the limp Chloe inside. “Alice… What are you doing… Don’t leave me alone…” Chloe fumbled in the darkness, her voice finally laced with genuine fear. “Don’t worry, your ‘leading man’ will be here any second.” I said coldly, then slammed the door shut, the click of the lock echoing. With that done, I turned and walked into an empty room next door, pulled out my phone, and called Ethan. The phone rang once before he answered. “Where are you?” Ethan’s voice was deep and husky, tinged with suppressed anxiety. “The Scarlet Lounge, second floor.” I leaned against the cold wall, listening to his voice, my eyes uncontrollably reddening. In my previous life, he had held me, hands bloody, kissing my forehead repeatedly, saying, “Don’t be scared, I’m here.” This time, I would never let him be tainted again. “I’m on my way.” The roar of a motorcycle engine sounded from the other end of the line. “Ethan, listen to me.” I took a deep breath, my tone more serious than ever. “No matter what you see or hear tonight, absolutely do not lay a hand on anyone. Bring your miniature camera and record everything.” The engine sound paused. “Alice Stone, is someone bothering you?” His voice instantly turned ice-cold, radiating palpable killing intent. “No,” I softened my voice, a hint of reassurance in my tone. “But I need you to help me expose a fraud. Remember, no physical contact, just record. If you so much as throw a punch, I’ll never speak to you again.” There was silence on the other end for a full five seconds. “Fine, I’ll do as you say,” he agreed, gritting his teeth. Hanging up, I walked to a surveillance blind spot at the hallway corner, watching the utility closet. Three minutes later, a man in a black baseball cap and mask skulked furtively down the hallway. He glanced around, pulled a spare key from his pocket, and inserted it into the closet lock. The door opened, and the man slipped inside. Almost simultaneously, a muffled gasp came from the closet, followed by the sound of tearing clothes and the man’s heavy breathing. “Baby, don’t hide, Chloe said you love a thrill…” “Get off me! Don’t touch me! I’m Chloe! Help—” Chloe’s shrill screams pierced through the door, echoing in the hallway. I stood emotionless in the shadows, pulled out my phone, and opened the 911 dialing screen. “Hello, 911? Abandoned storage room on the second floor of The Scarlet Lounge, someone is being sexually assaulted.” After hanging up, I looked down the hallway. Ethan’s tall, imposing figure strode towards me. He wore a black jacket, his eyes sharp, radiating a menacing aura that kept people away. Seeing me safe and sound in the corner, his taut jawline finally relaxed a bit. He took a large stride and pulled me into his arms. His heart raced, and his embrace was so tight it almost broke my bones. “I’m fine.” I hugged him back, pressing my cheek against his firm chest, inhaling the familiar scent of mint and tobacco. The ice in my heart finally cracked. “Who’s in there?” His gaze was fixed on the door, from which screams and thuds continued. “A rotten person getting what they deserve.” I pulled back from his embrace and straightened his collar. “Is the recording on?” Ethan nodded, pointing to the discreet camera on his chest. “Good.” I took his hand. “Now, let’s go enjoy the climax of this show.”

Police sirens pierced the night’s stillness, and flashing red and blue lights illuminated the area outside the bar like daylight. Officers stormed up to the second floor and kicked open the utility closet door. The scene inside was gruesome. The masked man was pressing Chloe down, a gleaming folding knife still in his hand, its blade against Chloe’s neck. Chloe’s clothes were disheveled, her hair a mess, her face streaked with tears and terror, her meticulously applied makeup smeared. “Police! Drop your weapon! Hands on your head!” The man was terrified by the sudden bright lights and shouts. His hand shook, and the knife clattered to the floor. Officers swiftly moved in, twisted his arms behind his back, and pinned him to the ground. Chloe cowered in the corner, trembling like a dying fish. When she looked up, her eyes widened instantly, filled with disbelief and venomous hatred, as she saw me, unharmed, standing outside the hallway crowd. “Alice Stone! It’s you! You set me up!” She shrieked desperately, trying to lunge at me, but was held back firmly by a female officer. I looked at her expressionlessly, my gaze like I was looking at non-recyclable trash. “Chloe, you’re drunk. What are you rambling about?” My tone was calm, even with a hint of appropriate shock and pity. “I just went to the restroom, and when I came back, I saw all these people gathered here… How did you end up with someone like this?” “Bullshit! You swapped my drink! You locked me in!” Chloe roared hysterically, like a madwoman. “Madam, please mind your language,” the lead officer frowned. “You sent messages inviting this man here. We’ve found your chat logs on his phone.” Chloe looked as if struck by lightning, freezing in place. Of course, she knew the chat logs were real; she had personally sent them to this perverted fan, originally to use against me. Now, they had become ironclad proof of her soliciting or staging a crime herself. “No… It’s not like that… I was just testing…” She stammered, trying to explain. “Testing what? Testing how to incite sexual assault?” The officer scoffed. “Take her away!” Chloe and the man were escorted downstairs. As she passed me, Chloe glared, gritting out a sentence: “Alice Stone, you just wait, I won’t let you get away with this!” I offered a slight smile, saying in a voice only she could hear, “Alright, I’ll be waiting to see how you disgrace and ruin yourself.” After the police left, the bar fell into a dead silence. Ethan remained silently behind me, like a guardian angel. He reached out, wrapped his arm around my shoulders, and pulled me into his embrace. “This is what you meant by exposing a fraud?” His voice was low, tinged with dangerous scrutiny. “Yes.” I didn’t hide anything. I looked up, meeting his deep eyes. “Ethan, Chloe tried to destroy me with the most vile methods. If I had been the one in there tonight, you would now be in prison for beating that man to a pulp to save me, all thanks to her.” Ethan’s pupils constricted sharply, a tsunami of rage instantly swelling in his eyes. He cupped my jaw, the rough touch of his thumb making me shiver slightly. “She dared to lay a hand on you?” His voice was gritted through his teeth, filled with potent killing intent. “She already did.” I gripped his hand, my gaze firm. “So, I won’t let her manipulate me anymore. Ethan, I’m going to fight back. I’m going to return everything she did to me a thousandfold.” Ethan stared at me for a long time, the storm in his eyes slowly subsiding, turning into a bottomless abyss. He lowered his head and kissed my lips fiercely. It was a kiss filled with aggression and possessiveness, carrying the scent of blood and an undeniable dominance. “Alright,” he released me, pressing his forehead against mine, his breathing heavy. “Whatever you want to do, I’ll be with you. If the sky falls, I’ll hold it up for you; if hell’s gates open, I’ll break through them for you.”

The next morning, public opinion exploded as expected. But the direction of the explosion was completely different from what Chloe had anticipated. Last night’s anti-vice raid at The Scarlet Lounge became a local trending topic. Bystanders caught photos of Chloe being escorted into a police car, looking disheveled. Though her face was pixelated, her distinctive haute couture dress and limited-edition bag were immediately recognized by sharp-eyed fans. “Holy shit! Isn’t that Chloe, the million-follower blogger who constantly preaches ‘female independence’ and ‘safety precautions’?” “What’s going on? The female empowerment blogger is playing this wild behind the scenes? Suspected of prostitution?” “Inside scoop: apparently, it wasn’t prostitution, but she was playing some ‘real-life test’ that backfired badly and nearly got her assaulted by a fan.” The internet instantly blew up. Chloe’s team reacted incredibly fast. In less than two hours, they released a clarification video. In the video, Chloe appeared without makeup, her eyes red and swollen, face pale, looking pitiful. “Hello everyone, I’m Chloe. Regarding last night’s incident, I must clarify.” She choked back tears, large drops falling. “Last night, I was trying to help my best friend with a ‘fear of men desensitization test.’ She’s been unable to move past her past trauma, and I was too eager, wanting to use the most realistic scenario to stimulate her.” “I found a trusted fan to help me stage it, but I never expected my friend to misunderstand my good intentions. Not only did she abandon me at the last minute, she also locked me in the room and even falsely reported me to the police, slandering me…” “I’m truly heartbroken. I poured my whole heart into helping her, why would she do this to me?” As soon as this video was released, public opinion instantly reversed. Chloe’s long-cultivated persona as a “confidante” and “women’s protector” played a huge role. Countless fans flooded the comment section, beginning to furiously insult the “ungrateful friend.” “This friend is so toxic, isn’t she? Someone tries to help her kindly, and she bites back?” “Fear of men? I think it’s more like a victim complex! People like her should be avoided!” “Doxx her! Find this viper and make her apologize to Chloe!” Soon, all my personal information was dug up. My name, school, major, even records of my past therapy sessions were exposed online. Countless malicious DMs and texts flooded in like a tide, making my phone almost unusable. The university counselor’s call also came through to Ethan’s phone. “Ethan, are you with Alice Stone? The current online controversy is negatively impacting the university. The department has decided to suspend Alice from classes for her to reflect at home. As her boyfriend, you should also be mindful of your influence and not get involved in this mess.” Ethan hung up immediately and threw his phone aside. He turned to look at me, his eyes sharp as knives. “Do you want me to get her account taken down?” I sat on the sofa, looking at the disgusting insults on the computer screen, a cold smile on my lips. “No need,” I said, taking a sip of coffee. “Taking down her account now would be too easy. The higher you climb, the harder you fall.” I pulled out the voice recorder. Inside was Chloe’s admission from last night, “It’s more impactful if it’s real,” and the complete chat logs between her and that perverted fan, which I had backed up long ago. But this wasn’t enough. In my previous life, Chloe relied on her powerful PR team and her skill at taking things out of context to twist black into white. With just this evidence, she could easily claim it was a fan acting on their own, and that she was a victim too. What I wanted was ironclad proof that would nail her to the pillar of shame. I wanted to peel back her hypocritical facade and show the entire internet what kind of vile schemes this “women’s protector” spouting righteousness and morality was really up to behind the scenes.

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