Author: Momo Chan

1 Before I was born, my family had a beautiful life. Dad had a respectable management job. Mom was a gentle stay-at-home mother. My older sister was smart, bright, the kind of kid adults loved to brag about. Then I came along. Moderate cerebral palsy. Severe damage to both movement and cognition. I was ten before I could barely walk with crutches. My words never came out right. I could not even write my own name. Mom’s pretty face grew duller by the day. Dad and my sister stayed away from home longer and longer. One day, when I was fifteen, I sat on the couch staring blankly at the TV. A child on the screen climbed over a railing and fell. People screamed. Red spread across the pavement. I only watched the child who no longer moved, thoughtful in a way I did not understand. “Andrew Parker, do you even have a heart? She’s our daughter!” “Grace, I know she’s my daughter. But we can’t throw away our whole lives for her. Please. Put her in a care home. It’ll be better for everyone.” “That would ruin her life. She’d never have another chance to recover.” “Her life was ruined a long time ago, wasn’t it?” Something shattered. I knew their fight was over, just like all the others. Dad yanked the door open. The moment he saw me, he forced a smile onto his face. He came to the couch and sat beside me as if nothing had happened, wiping the drool from the corner of my mouth with a gentle hand. “Sophie, Daddy doesn’t want this either. Daddy’s sorry. It’s just… you don’t understand any of it.” I did not know what he was sorry for. I only leaned into his arms and let out a clumsy little laugh. Dad’s chest was broad and warm. I could barely remember the last time he had held me like that. Maybe I was five. We were in a place that smelled sharp and awful. A man in a white coat kept shaking his head at me. “Mr. and Mrs. Parker, you’ve taken her to the best hospitals here and overseas. But I still have to say this. Leave money for her care. Find a reliable person or institution to look after her for life. That matters more than anything now.” After he said that, Mom broke down sobbing. “It’s my fault. I gave birth to Sophie. I ruined her whole life.” Dad reached out as if he wanted to hold her, then pulled his hand back. In the end, all he did was sigh. I watched them, confused, suddenly scared for no reason. I curled tightly into Dad’s arms. After we went home that day, Mom and Dad had their first real fight. Warm drops touched my shoulder and pulled me out of the memory. I looked up. Then I laughed, drool slipping down my chin. “Daddy… cry… crying.” Dad’s face changed at once. He turned toward Mom, who had just come out of the bedroom, and shouted. “Look at her! She’s fifteen and still like this. She’ll never be cured. Never!” Then he slammed the door and left without looking back. Mom’s tears started falling again as she watched him go. But my attention had already been caught by the slam. I limped over and copied the motion again and again. The door banged so many times that white dust drifted down from the wall. “Fun… fun… Mommy…” I tried to share my joy with her in my slurred voice. But she rushed over like a storm and dragged me back to the couch. It was the first time Mom had ever been so harsh with me. I was terrified. My mouth opened wide, and I burst into tears. “Mommy… Sophie hurt… scared…” Mom did not answer. She found a clothes hanger and struck me with it again and again. It was the first time she had ever hit me. I was scared and in pain. I wanted to run, but my legs would not obey me. I could only grab her pant leg and beg. Then I looked up and saw that Mom was crying harder than I was. “Why? Why? Why did it turn out like this?” She collapsed onto the floor like her bones had melted, staring straight into my eyes. “Sophie, what am I supposed to do? With you like this, what can I possibly do?” I stopped crying. I wanted to copy my sister and gently wipe Mom’s tears away. But my hand spasmed at that exact moment, and I accidentally jabbed Mom in the eye. Blood appeared at once. Mom screamed and shoved me away. By the time I understood what had happened, Mom was already gone. Only the child on the TV remained, lying there quietly. 2 The house stayed quiet for a long, long time. I waited until my stomach growled, but no one came home. Before, Mom always made food that smelled wonderful, then fed me one careful bite at a time. Those smells circled inside my head now, making me restless. I crawled around the house, dragging myself from room to room. Furniture scraped across the floor. Mom’s favorite prints fell. A beautiful wooden photo frame broke into pieces. Worse than all of that was the wet, heavy feeling in my pants. I could feel something leaving my body. A sour stink followed me wherever I crawled. I knew I was uncomfortable, so I began to cry out. “Mommy… Sophie wants… Mommy.” I called for a long time. No one answered. Fear came over me all at once. Mom had left. Mom did not want me anymore. That fear prickled across my scalp, but I could do nothing. I sat on the floor, lost and sobbing. At dawn the next day, a sharp cry woke me. “Mom, look! Sophie messed herself again. It’s everywhere!” It was my sister’s voice. Lily held Mom’s arm. Her pretty face was full of anger. A white bandage covered Mom’s injured eye. She looked weak, as if even standing took effort. She looked at me, then at the ruined prints she had treasured so much. She walked straight over, her hand lifting. But it never came down. She only closed her eyes, then opened them again, as if she could not believe what she was seeing. “Mommy, hurt? Sophie… missed you.” At those words, her eyes suddenly lit up. “Sophie, you said a whole sentence.” Then she looked at Lily, her voice trembling. “Lily, your sister will get better. Did you hear that? She said a whole sentence.” Lily did not answer. She acted as if she had heard nothing. She went to the bathroom, brought out a mop, and began cleaning the mess I had made with practiced movements. I said again, “Sister… Mommy… hungry…” Mom’s smile froze. I wanted to touch her, but she covered her eye and moved back several steps. The corner of her face twitched. After a long while, she opened her eyes and carried me into the bathroom with tears in her own. Mom had always bathed me gently. Today her hands were rougher. She did not talk the way she used to. She scrubbed until it hurt, and my body twisted without meaning to. She pressed me down. “Sophie Parker, can’t you give me one quiet minute?” “Do you know this family is falling apart? And it’s all because of you.” I heard the grief and anger in her voice. So I went still, obediently letting her finish. But my cerebral palsy meant my body did not always listen to me. A spasm seized me. I slipped sideways into the tub. Water covered me. I could not breathe. Everything hurt in a way I had no words for. I wanted to scream, but water rushed in whenever I opened my mouth. Before the world went black, I saw Mom standing beside the tub, frozen. There was a strange light in her eye. Almost as if she did not want me to struggle. Then my hands lost their strength. My mind went empty. 3 Through the haze, that familiar bitter hospital smell came back. Men and women in white coats moved around in front of me. “Her vital signs are stable. She took in some water, but she should be fine after rest.” “As for the cerebral palsy, I need to speak with the family…” After that, everything around me stayed quiet for a long time. Then Lily spoke. “Mom, this study-abroad program… my professor finally recommended me. I really want to go. Dad said the money is with you.” “But Lily, this is all we have left. We need it for Sophie’s treatment. The doctor just said if we stop, she may not make it.” Lily suddenly shouted. “Mom, I’m your child too! Why does everything have to come after Sophie? Is her illness my fault?” Mom went still. She opened her mouth but said nothing. Lily seemed to have finally found the crack in herself, and all the hurt of the past years poured out. “After Sophie was born, I was only five years older than her, but overnight I had to become the ‘good big sister.’ I learned to cook for myself before I was eight. Other kids had parents waiting after school. I walked home alone. “When I got my first period, I was scared to death. But you were with Sophie. You didn’t even know. “When girls at school picked on me, Dad was busy working to pay Sophie’s medical bills. I could only tell you. But you forgot the next day because you were taking Sophie somewhere again. I still have scars.” Her sobs grew louder. “To save money for Sophie’s treatment, she’s already eaten through all our savings. The money I made working during breaks went to her supplements and toys. “Mom, I’m tired. This chance is rare. “I’m Sophie’s sister, but I’m also me. I’m also your daughter. Please, just this once, think about me.” Lily wiped her tears and said the last words in a drained voice. “Mom, in twenty years, this is the only selfish thing I’ve asked for. I’ll treat the money as a loan. I can write an IOU. I’ll pay it back.” Silence followed. I tried hard to open my eyes. I wanted to wipe their tears away. I could not. At last, Mom sighed. “Lily, don’t worry. I’ll figure something out. I won’t let you down.” After Lily left, Mom stroked my forehead. “Sophie. My Sophie. If only you could always be as quiet and sweet as you are now.” A warm drop fell on the corner of my mouth. Salty and bitter. Then Mom made a call to Dad. “Andrew Parker, let’s get divorced. The only thing left is the house. I don’t want it. Leave it to you and Lily.” The other end of the line went silent for a beat. Dad sounded unsure when he spoke. “I don’t want the house. You and Sophie will need money.” “I already prepared the divorce papers. They’re in the drawer at home. Just sign them.” Then he hung up, as if he was afraid Mom might change her mind. Mom laughed several times. It sounded worse than crying. When I finally opened my eyes, it was the next morning. Mom was pressing and stretching my stiff limbs with practiced hands. When she saw I was awake, she quickly poured porridge from a thermos, blew on it, and brought the spoon to my lips. I ate contentedly and gave her a huge smile. “Mommy, smells… good.” But she did not smile. Tears only gathered thicker at the corners of her eyes. 4 I had never seen Mom suffer like that. It made me restless too. I kept wanting to scream for no reason. A woman in the same hospital room finally snapped. “Mrs. Parker, can you please control Sophie? She keeps making noise every day. None of us can get any peace.” Mom bowed and apologized again and again, pressing my head down with force. “Sophie, say sorry. It’s three simple words. Say it.” But I only made broken sounds and giggled. That day, Mom took my hand and brought me home. This time, she did not take a cab or a bus. She forced me to walk, pushing me forward as she shouted. “Sophie, walk. Walk!” I fell again and again. Her voice turned hoarse from shouting, but she still would not give up. It was as if she were clinging to the last thread inside her. Only after I was too exhausted to move, after I collapsed on the pavement and scared several passing children into tears, did Mom suddenly laugh. “Sophie, after all these years… maybe I should stop trying. Maybe I really can’t do this anymore.” Over the next few days, many strangers came to our home. In the end, Mom spoke for a long time with a kind-looking woman. Before leaving, the woman hesitated. “Grace, are you sure you want to sell such a good house?” Mom nodded firmly. Then she pushed a note into the woman’s hand. “This is my daughter Lily’s account. Send the money directly there. This is… what I owe her.” The woman nodded and left. Mom sat with me inside the emptied house, gently stroking my hair. “Sophie, from now on, Mommy will stay with you forever, okay?” I understood that sentence. It meant Mom and I would never be apart. I hurried to smile at her, bouncing clumsily with my unsteady hands and feet. My reflection in the glass looked like something frightening from TV. Then I suddenly remembered something. “Daddy. Lily…” Mom’s eyes went hollow. She stared at the shadows of trees outside the window and murmured to herself. “No Daddy. No Lily. Sophie, there’s nothing left.” She gripped my hand stiffly and walked with me for a long time. We went past all the places our family used to visit. The bakery where they bought my birthday cakes. The clothing store where Lily bought new outfits for college. The restaurant where Mom and Dad once celebrated their anniversary. At last, Mom carried me up to the roof of a building. It was the first time I had ever seen her smoke. She coughed until her throat sounded raw, but she did not stop. I grew too tired to stay awake, so Mom sang me a lullaby. Her voice drifted with the night wind, as if it had come from another world, heavy with a sadness I could not name. When dawn was close, Mom woke me and handed me a bottle of soda. “Sophie, cheers with Mommy.” I loved that gesture most. I knocked my bottle against hers hard and laughed. Then I saw a white pill bottle. The cap was open. Nothing was left inside. When Dad could not sleep, he always took things from that bottle. He had said many times that no one was allowed to touch it, or they might never wake up again. I looked at the powdery stuff settled at the bottom of Mom’s drink. Suddenly, I understood something. No. Mom could not never wake up. If she did, I would never talk to her again. Without thinking, I grabbed the bottle from Mom’s hand and drank it all myself. The moment it went down, a bitter taste pierced through me. And somehow, some part of me became clear. The child from the TV appeared in my mind. I staggered to the edge of the roof and copied her. Before she fell, she had said one line. “Without me, you’ll be happy.” Now those words came out of my mouth. “Mommy, without me, you’ll be happy.” I fell backward into the pale morning air. Above me was Mom’s scream, torn from the deepest part of her. I tried to lift my hand to wipe her tears. I had no strength. So I only whispered. “Mommy, don’t cry. You don’t have to ask what to do anymore. “Because Sophie figured it out.”

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Senior year was finally over, and my class was buzzing about a graduation trip. I stepped up and offered to have my family’s travel agency put together an exclusive package. A ten-day, nine-night grand tour across five European countries. All inclusive for just $2,500. My classmates were practically shoving their wallets into my hands, thrilled by the deal. That is, until Jessica, the undisputed queen bee of our class, suddenly spoke up. “We’re all classmates, Harper. Don’t you think it’s a little messed up to scam us like this?” She crossed her arms, her perfectly glossed lips set in a pout. “I was looking at another agency online. A full European tour is only $900. There are forty of us in this class. I can’t even imagine the kind of kickback you’re pocketing from this.” The hands reaching out to pay me froze in mid-air. “Sixteen hundred dollars is a massive difference. I could buy a new laptop with that.” “Yeah, maybe we should rethink this.” Just like that, the entire class pivoted, flocking to Jessica’s recommendation. I simply waved my hand, completely unbothered. Let them go. An all-inclusive European vacation for $2,500 meant the flights alone were eating up nearly two grand. My family was essentially subsidizing this trip as a graduation gift to my friends. I knew exactly which agency Jessica was talking about. A $900 European getaway? I could only wish them the best of luck surviving it. 1 “Two thousand five hundred is just absurd.” Jessica’s voice acted like a bucket of ice water dumped over the class’s excitement. Everyone stared at her, their eyes caught between confusion and shock. “Every agency is slashing prices right now. I was scrolling through TikTok last night and saw a sponsored stream for a twelve-day, seven-country European package. It’s literally $900.” To prove she wasn’t bluffing, she pulled out her phone and held it up. A flashy promotional flyer filled the screen, with a massive, bold red “$900 ONLY” stamped across the top left corner. I didn’t say a word. I just sat at my desk and watched them. I had grown up running errands and doing grunt work in my parents’ travel agency. I knew exactly how deep and dirty the water in this industry could get. There is no such thing as a free lunch in this world. And if a pie falls from the sky, it’s usually made of concrete. One of my closer friends in the back row chimed in, sounding hesitant. “Isn’t $900 a little too cheap? I looked up flights to Paris yesterday, and the absolute cheapest economy ticket was like twelve hundred bucks.” Jessica pulled her phone back, a smug, unwavering smile on her face. “I asked the streamer about that! This specific agency has massive government tourism subsidies backing them up. That’s why they can practically give the spots away. And they guaranteed in writing that there are zero forced shopping stops.” Hearing that, the skepticism in the room began to melt. A sixteen-hundred-dollar difference was impossible to ignore. Anyone in their right mind would at least pause to consider it. “Harper, I’m just looking out for everyone’s wallets. You won’t hold it against me, right?” Jessica batted her eyelashes, her tone dripping with fake innocence. “I mean, look at guys like Ben and Marcus. Their families are really struggling right now. $2,500 is way too heavy of a burden for them. I just want our whole class to be able to make memories in Europe together.” She specifically named the guys who were on full financial aid. It was true, their families didn’t have much to spare. I nodded, keeping my expression entirely neutral. “Of course not. I was only providing an option. Nobody is holding a gun to anyone’s head.” I let a beat pass before I added my warning. “But $900 for that kind of itinerary is dangerously cheap. I highly suggest you guys look into the fine print before handing over your money.” Jessica’s smile instantly went stiff. Being publicly challenged by me clearly bruised her ego. “Give it a rest, Harper. You can fool them, but you can’t fool me.” She rolled her eyes. “Everyone knows your family’s agency loves to lock tourists in shady souvenir shops until they buy overpriced garbage. You guys literally made the local news.” I shifted my gaze to Liam. Our families had known each other for years. His parents were executives at a major airline and did a lot of B2B business with my parents. Everyone in class knew we had history. So when he stood up and echoed Jessica’s accusation, his words carried the lethal weight of an insider’s testimony. Instantly, the way my classmates looked at me shifted. The excitement turned into cold, hard suspicion. “Harper, I’m starting to think your package is a rip-off. I’m going with Jessica’s group.” “Can you refund my Venmo? My mom said I should take the cheaper option.” The same people who were cheering my name ten minutes ago were now crowding my desk, demanding their deposits back. I pulled out my phone and processed every single refund without a flinch. The $2,500 price tag was already a charity case from my parents. If they didn’t want to go, they were just saving my family thousands of dollars. 2 Once the refunds hit their accounts, the entire class officially defected to Jessica’s group. After school, I headed straight to the agency. Summer vacation was peak season. The phones were ringing off the hook, and my parents were closing massive corporate retreats left and right. “You can cancel the reservations for my class’s European trip,” I told them, dropping my backpack on a chair. “They thought the price was too high.” My parents stared at me in absolute disbelief. “Two thousand five hundred is too high?” my mom asked, her jaw dropping. “I literally priced that at a loss just because they’re your friends.” I gave a dry hum of agreement and laid out exactly what happened in the classroom. My dad frowned, leaning back in his office chair. “Liam actually threw us under the bus? Our corporate contract with his parents’ airline is up for renewal next week. They’ve been calling me non-stop begging me to sign. After this, I think we’ll take our business elsewhere.” My mom scoffed, crossing her arms. “And that forced shopping rumor? What a joke. People love to run their mouths without knowing the facts.” The ‘forced shopping’ incident was a nightmare from last year. A married client went abroad and bought his mistress an authentic luxury bag. When he came back, he bought a cheap counterfeit replica and gave it to his wife. The wife noticed the bad stitching and lost her mind. To cover his tracks, the husband blamed our tour guide, claiming they locked him in a counterfeit shop and forced him to buy it. The couple actually came to our agency and threw a massive tantrum demanding compensation. Liam knew the truth. I had vented to him about the whole ridiculous drama when it happened. Yet today, he deliberately twisted the story to smear my family’s business in front of everyone. “It’s a blessing in disguise,” my dad said, softening his tone to comfort me. “We were going to bleed money on that trip anyway. Weren’t you begging to go to the Maldives? Next month, we’ll shut off our phones and take a family vacation.” I smiled and agreed. Right on cue, a VIP client walked through the glass doors, and my parents snapped into professional mode, rushing over to greet them. I sat down and checked my phone. I had a new message request. It was Sarah, the class president from the homeroom next door. We knew each other from running the school radio station. She knew my family owned an agency and was asking about summer group rates. I pulled up the exact same European itinerary I had designed for my class and forwarded it to her. Except this time, I deleted the $2,500 charity rate and typed in the actual retail price. $3,500. I was done doing favors. My phone rang almost immediately. I braced myself for her to complain about the cost, but the second I answered, she sounded breathless. “Thirty-five hundred? Harper, are you serious? Did you forget a zero or something?” I blinked, genuinely caught off guard. “No, it’s $3,500. But to be completely transparent, our tours have absolutely zero hidden fees or mandatory shopping stops. What you see is what you pay.” “I totally trust you,” Sarah said happily. “My grandma went on one of your senior cruise packages last year and she hasn’t stopped raving about your family’s service.” We ironed out the details, and Sarah promised to come to the agency tomorrow to drop off the deposit for her entire class. My parents had already spent hours securing block reservations for flights and hotels for my class. If my class backed out, we would have eaten the cancellation fees. But now, Sarah’s class was sliding perfectly into those reserved slots. It was a flawless save. Just as I hung up, a notification popped up. Jessica had tagged everyone in our senior class group chat. Every single person had officially booked her $900 trip. She had collected all the funds and was now demanding everyone send pictures of their passports to finalize the bookings. I was about to mute the chat when a new notification popped up. Jessica had tagged me directly. “@Harper, you haven’t sent me your money yet. This is our final graduation trip. If you don’t come, you’re deliberately destroying our class unity.” 3 Staring at the glowing screen, a harsh laugh escaped my throat. When did I ever agree to go? They were making decisions for me and trying to publicly guilt-trip me into compliance. “When you pitched this trip, you said participation was voluntary. I am voluntarily opting out. End of discussion.” I hit send, then immediately went to the settings and left the group chat entirely. We had graduated. There was absolutely no reason to stay tied to these people anymore. The next morning, Sarah walked into the agency right on schedule. My mom and I sat her down in the VIP lounge with fresh coffee. “This $3,500 covers round-trip direct flights, visa processing, a fully bilingual tour guide, all four-star accommodations, and three meals a day,” I explained, sliding the glossy brochure across the glass table. “It hits all the major historical landmarks. You guys literally don’t have to use your brains for ten days. Just follow the guide and have fun.” Sarah flipped through the packet, her eyes lighting up more with every page. The last page was a compilation of reviews from previous student groups. They were unfiltered and real. Even the few negative reviews were just standard travel complaints about jet lag or walking too much, nothing to do with the agency’s integrity. I AirDropped the digital version to her, and she immediately forwarded it to her class chat. Her phone started pinging like a slot machine. “This is incredible. My whole class is in. We can wire the money today!” My mom and I exchanged a look. My mom pulled out a stack of crisp, formal documents. “We need these signed first. Even though most of you are eighteen now, your parents are the ones funding this trip. We absolutely require a signed parental consent and emergency contact form before we take a dime.” Sarah respected the professionalism. She took the stack of forms and promised to return in three days with the signatures and the full payment. I walked Sarah out to the parking lot. As she was getting into her car, a familiar figure stepped into my line of sight. Liam marched right up to me, his chest puffed out with unearned arrogance. “Jessica just told me the news,” he said, practically beaming. “The agency she booked with was so thrilled we brought them a forty-person group that they comped one ticket. The class took a vote, and we decided to give the free spot to you. You don’t have to pay a cent, and you still get to come.” I stared at him, utterly baffled. What kind of bizarre obsession did they have with me? Why were they trying so desperately to drag me onto this sketchy trip? A cold sliver of suspicion slid down my spine. This wasn’t just peer pressure anymore. This felt like a setup. My eyes hardened into chips of ice. “I don’t need your charity. I am not going on that trip. Give it up.” Liam’s face flushed with immediate anger. “Why are you being such an ungrateful bitch? Jessica is trying to save everyone money. Unlike you, who clearly sold your soul for a quick buck. You’re getting a free vacation to Europe, you should be on your knees thanking her.” I didn’t need their $900. And my reason for staying behind was simple. I valued my life. Going overseas on a dirt-cheap, unverified tour group was a massive gamble. Once you land in a foreign country, you are completely at their mercy. “Does your mom even know you’re flying to Europe on a discount budget tour?” I asked, my voice deadly quiet. “Stop harassing me, Liam. Or I’ll call Mrs. Wright right now and tell her exactly what you’re doing.” Liam was a spoiled rich kid. He was an only child, and his parents watched him like a hawk. If they knew he was flying halfway across the world with a sketchy $900 agency, they would lock him in his bedroom until college started. Right on cue, his arrogant sneer faltered. He fell dead silent. It took him a long moment to recover his voice. “You’re a real piece of work, Harper. Just wait.” Sarah, who had been watching the entire exchange through her rolled-down window, looked at me in disbelief. “Why are you fighting them so hard on a free trip?” “They found some random agency online charging $900 for a ten-day European tour. I like living. I’m not going.” Sarah let out a sharp laugh. “$900? There’s definitely going to be some aggressive forced shopping. Once you’re out there, they’ll confiscate your passports and lock you in a warehouse until you max out your credit cards. They have zero survival instincts.” I didn’t reply. Forced shopping was the best-case scenario. My worst fear was that this agency didn’t want their money. They wanted their lives.

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Five years into our relationship, a catastrophic earthquake struck, forcing Declan to make a life-or-death choice. He completely ignored my crushed leg. Instead, he frantically clawed through the rubble to dig out his childhood sweetheart, a girl who barely had a scratch on her. He threw a bank card onto my chest. “There is a million dollars on this. It is more than enough to cover your amputation and let you live out the rest of your life in comfort.” “Don’t ever contact us again. Alice is easily frightened, and seeing an amputee will give her nightmares.” I didn’t scream or cry. I simply watched him scoop her into his arms and sprint toward the medical tents without a single backward glance. Meanwhile, I was left alone in the dirt, surviving the terrifying aftershocks and losing my leg just to stay alive. One year later, walking on a high-tech prosthetic, I ran into Declan at a luxury charity gala. He gripped my wrist like a vice, his voice trembling violently. “Aria… you are alive? I only saved her first because I thought her injuries were fatal!” He pleaded that his hands were tied, begging me for just one more chance to make it right. I smiled, gracefully peeling his fingers off my arm. “That is unfortunate. I am already married, and I just found out I am pregnant with twins.” 1 The aftershocks of the massive earthquake had barely faded when David threw the glossy black bank card onto my dust-covered chest. All around us, the terrifying sound of snapping concrete and the distant screams of trapped survivors filled the air. My right leg was pinned beneath a massive concrete slab. The flesh was mutilated beyond recognition. I had long since lost all feeling below my knee. “The pin is your birthday.” David did not even bother to bend down. His arms were wrapped tightly around a trembling Alice. Alice had a superficial scrape on her cheek. A few tiny beads of blood welled up from the scratch. “David, I’m so scared. We need to leave right now, the roof is going to cave in again.” Alice buried her face into the crook of his neck. Her voice was soft, fragile, and quivering with tears. David immediately tightened his grip on her. When his eyes flicked down to me, they held nothing but impatience and disgust. “Did you hear me, Aria? A million dollars. That buys out the last five years we spent together.” “That money is more than enough for you to get an amputation at a top-tier hospital. You can buy a high-end prosthetic and move to some quiet suburban town. You’ll live a comfortable life.” I gasped for air. My lungs felt like they were lined with crushed glass, and every breath tasted like copper and blood. I stared at the man I had loved for five long years. He was Manhattan’s golden boy, the heir to a massive empire. He always wore a mask of cold indifference to the world, reserving his rare moments of warmth solely for me. I used to think that warmth was love. Now I realized I was nothing more than a convenient, well-behaved stand-in. He only dated me because his childhood sweetheart had moved to Europe. Now that his true love was back, and we were staring death in the face, the stand-in naturally became dead weight. “Are you really going to leave?” I asked, my voice completely hoarse, fighting to keep my tone steady. “With my leg trapped like this, I might not survive until the rescue teams get here.” David frowned, his jaw tightening as if weighing his options. Right on cue, Alice let out a pathetic little whimper. “David, I think the concrete is shifting again…” The color drained from David’s face. He shot me one final, chilling look. “If you’re meant to live, you’ll survive. If you don’t make it, that’s just fate.” “Alice is easily frightened. Seeing you covered in all this blood is going to give her nightmares. Don’t ever show your face to us again.” Without a single ounce of hesitation, he turned his back on me. He carried Alice over the jagged ruins and sprinted toward the flashing lights of the emergency responders in the distance. He never looked back. I lay alone in the freezing rubble, my fingers curling tightly around the bloodstained bank card. What an absolute joke. Five years of devotion and my right leg, all traded for a million dollars. David probably thought he took a massive loss on this deal. I thought I made a profit. Finding out the man you loved was a heartless animal is an expensive lesson to learn. I don’t know how much time passed before I heard the chaotic shouting above me. “We’ve got a survivor down here! She’s pinned under a structural beam!” “Bring the stretcher! Now!” Blinding flashlight beams hit my face, forcing my eyes shut. I forced my cracked lips to move, speaking to the blurry silhouettes above me. “Thank you. I’m not dead yet.” Just before the darkness took me, I heard a paramedic’s grim voice. “The leg is completely crushed. We have to amputate right now.” That was fine. Whether it was a useless leg or a worthless man, rotting things needed to be cut off completely. 2 When I woke up, I was staring at the canvas ceiling of a temporary military hospital tent. The anesthesia had worn off. The space where my right leg used to be was entirely empty, yet a bone-deep, agonizing phantom pain flared through my nerves. It felt like thousands of ants were chewing through my nerve endings, constantly reminding me that I was permanently disabled. A nurse was changing my bandages. Seeing my eyes open, her own eyes welled with tears. “You are so incredibly brave, honey. You didn’t make a single sound during the entire operation.” I wanted to smile, but my facial muscles were stiff and unresponsive. I wasn’t brave. My heart was just so completely shattered that my body forgot how to process physical pain. An older man in the cot next to mine let out a heavy sigh and handed me a peeled orange segment. “As long as you’re breathing, you’re winning. There is always hope.” I took the orange and popped it into my mouth. The citrus was so intensely sour that tears immediately streamed down my face. I reached for my phone on the bedside table. The cell service was spotty at best. I opened Twitter, expecting to see news about the earthquake casualties. Instead, the number one trending hashtag completely paralyzed me. [Manhattan Elite Heir Shows True Love in Earthquake Debris, Refuses to Abandon Girlfriend]. Attached was a grainy photo taken in the dark. Against the backdrop of the ruined resort, David was fiercely shielding Alice in his arms. His eyes were wide with panic and profound devotion. The comment section was throwing a massive parade for them. [Oh my god, this is cinematic true love. Standing together in the face of death!] [I need a man who makes me feel this safe. He is literally a knight in shining armor.] [Wishing them a lifetime of happiness. Real love thrives in tragedy!] Scrolling further, I finally spotted a single, dissenting comment. [Am I crazy, or didn’t David have a long-term girlfriend he’s been dating for five years? Where is she?] A verified account immediately replied beneath it. [Oh, her? I heard she was so terrified of dying that she pushed people out of the way and ran off by herself. Alice actually got injured because she refused to leave David’s side.] [Trash women like that deserve to be dumped. Good riddance.] I locked my phone, my stomach churning violently. I was the coward who ran away? Alice’s ability to completely invert reality was truly a masterclass in manipulation. She was the one who threw a tantrum and forced David to bring her to this specific mountain resort for the weekend. When the earthquake hit, I was the one who physically shoved David under the reinforced doorframe, taking the direct hit from the collapsing ceiling. And now, I was the villain who abandoned my lover. Incredible. I stared down at the flat, empty space beneath my hospital blanket. The tiny trace of sorrow left in my chest completely evaporated, replaced by a freezing, calculated rage. David. Alice. We had a massive debt to settle, and I was going to collect every single penny. A month later, I was transferred to a top-tier private hospital back in the city. The million dollars, combined with my own savings, was more than enough to afford a private luxury suite and the best physical therapists in the country. The doctors told me my stump was healing perfectly, and I was ready to begin fitting for a prosthetic. Rehab was a brutal, endless nightmare. During the adjustment period, the friction from the socket rubbed the scarred skin of my stump raw. Every single step felt like walking barefoot on shattered glass. But I never shed a single tear. Compared to the suffocating despair of being buried alive beneath concrete, this pain was absolutely nothing. One afternoon, I was walking through the hospital’s private garden, heavily leaning on my forearm crutches. A young man was sitting on a park bench. His right arm was encased in a thick plaster cast, suspended by a sling around his neck. He was screaming into his phone, looking absolutely feral. “I’m not going! If the old man wants to go on a blind date, he can marry her himself! My arm is literally broken, and he wants me to go network for a corporate marriage?” “It’s broken! I’m going to be a one-armed bandit! Can you just find me a nurse to bring me a beer instead?” “I don’t give a damn about the family business! I want to race my cars! I want to live my life!” He aggressively ended the call and chucked his brand-new iPhone onto the manicured grass. He looked up, huffing like an angry bull, and locked eyes with me. He had an obnoxiously handsome face, with sharp eyebrows and bright eyes, though he looked like he severely lacked common sense. Realizing I was staring, he blinked, the tips of his ears turning a faint shade of red. “What are you looking at? Never seen a gorgeous guy throw a tantrum before?” His tone was aggressive, like a golden retriever trying to act tough. 3 The next day, I ran into the human golden retriever again. My physical therapist told me his name was Jaxon Cole, the youngest son of the absurdly wealthy Cole family. He was a victim of his own good intentions. During the earthquake, he had driven up to the disaster zone to volunteer with the rescue teams. A secondary landslide crushed his arm with a boulder, landing him in this hospital for the past month. His elite family was constantly pressuring him to take over the corporate empire, but he was obsessed with extreme sports and professional racing. He was currently staging a dramatic runaway attempt from his own family. His backstory sounded remarkably familiar. I ignored him and focused on placing one crutch in front of the other. But Jaxon was apparently the type of person who had never met a stranger in his life. Or maybe he was just bored out of his mind. He walked over, picked up one of my resting crutches, and swung it around like a golf club. “Hey, how did you lose it?” He pointed down at my leg. If anyone else had asked me that so bluntly, I would have swung my remaining crutch at their head. But his eyes were entirely clear. It was pure, unfiltered curiosity. There was no pity, no malice, and no awkward tiptoeing. “Earthquake. Crushed by a ceiling,” I said flatly. “No way, me too.” He tapped his plaster cast. “But I got hurt pulling people out. Let me guess, you were one of the people getting pulled out?” “You could say that,” I replied, not bothering to explain the betrayal. “That prosthetic leg looks insane, though. You look like the Terminator.” He squatted down, genuinely fascinated as he inspected the sleek, exposed carbon-fiber shaft of my new leg. I couldn’t help but laugh at his absurdity. “Looking cool is useless. I can’t even run.” “Who says you need to run? Once my arm heals, I’ll take you out to the track. You don’t need a right leg to drift a sports car.” Jaxon thumped his chest proudly, which instantly jolted his broken arm. He hissed in pain, his face contorting into a grimace. Just like that, we became bizarre hospital friends. He never shut up. He complained constantly, told terrible jokes, and spent hours roasting his strict older brother. Having him around made the grueling, agonizing rehab sessions significantly more tolerable. Just when I thought my life was finally stabilizing into a peaceful routine, the past decided to crawl out of the gutter to ruin my day. I was at an upscale mall shopping for shoes. Because of my prosthetic, I only needed to try the shoe on my left foot. The sales associate was incredibly sweet, bringing out a pair of soft, flat-soled leather loafers for me. Just as I slipped my foot into the shoe, a sickeningly familiar voice echoed behind me. “David, look at these heels! Aren’t they gorgeous? But do you think wearing flats would make my legs look too short?” I froze completely. The floor-to-ceiling mirror in front of me reflected two figures walking into the boutique. David was wearing a bespoke tailored suit, looking every bit the pristine aristocrat. Alice was clinging to his bicep, dressed in a flowing white sundress. The absolute picture of a fragile, innocent saint. Of all the boutiques in Manhattan, they had to walk into this one. I had zero energy for their drama. I grabbed my purse and stood up, ready to pay and leave. But Alice’s eyes were like radar. She spotted me instantly. “Oh my gosh, is that Aria?” She dramatically covered her mouth with her hand. Her eyes darted down to my exposed prosthetic leg. A flash of twisted satisfaction danced in her eyes, but she immediately arranged her features into a mask of pure terror. “Oh my god, your leg… you really had it amputated? It looks so terrifying. It’s like a robot part.” She shrank backward, burying her face into David’s chest, acting as if my very existence was a horror movie. David’s gaze swept over my mechanical leg, his eyebrows instantly knitting into a tight, disgusted knot. “Aria, didn’t I explicitly tell you to stay out of our sight?” “You know Alice is incredibly sensitive. Are you walking around like that just to purposely give her a panic attack?” A dry, harsh laugh escaped my throat. Did he think his family owned the entire city? I turned around, my eyes locking onto the two of them with absolute zero-degree hostility. 4 “That’s a fascinating perspective, David. Last time I checked, the earth doesn’t revolve around your ego. I’m just here buying shoes. How exactly does my presence traumatize your fragile little princess?” “And please, spare me the theatrics. She looks perfectly healthy going on a luxury shopping spree. I thought she was on her deathbed back in the rubble?” Alice’s face turned completely pale. Tears pooled in her eyes on command. “Aria, I know you hate the fact that David saved me first. But it was a life-or-death emergency… do you really have to be so cruel and aggressive?” The other wealthy shoppers in the boutique started whispering, throwing judgmental glances my way. “Wow, what is her problem? The girl literally apologized.” “Right? I mean, it’s sad that she’s disabled, but she doesn’t have to guilt-trip them like a psycho.” Hearing the crowd take his side, David’s posture straightened. He looked down at me like a god judging a peasant. He pulled out his wallet, slipped out a sleek black titanium credit card, and tossed it onto the glass display counter. “I am buying every single pair of shoes in this boutique. Except for the cheap ones she has on her feet. Aria, take your garbage and get the hell out of here. Stop polluting our air.” The heavy metal card spun on the glass, making a sharp, mocking sound. It was a perfect reenactment of the day he threw the bank card on my dying body. I clenched my fists so hard my nails dug into my palms, drawing crescent moons of blood. But the physical pain was nothing compared to the absolute freezing hatred in my chest. This was the man I gave five years of my life to. To save him, I sacrificed a piece of my body and almost bled to death in the dirt. And now, just to make his manipulative new girlfriend smile, he was perfectly willing to strip away my dignity and stomp on it in public. The sales associate looked completely panicked, glancing between the black card and my face. “Sir, we have a policy of first-come, first-served. This lady was already purchasing this pair…” “Shut up and swipe the card,” David ordered, not even looking at the employee. “I want the entire inventory. Everything except what she’s touching.” Alice tugged at his sleeve, putting on her best empathetic, angelic voice. “David, don’t be so harsh on her. Aria is physically disabled now. Her mental state must be so fragile and insecure.” “Those loafers are incredibly cheap and poorly made, they totally don’t fit our lifestyle anyway. But to Aria, they might be the only thing she can afford. Let’s not fight her over trash.” She took a deliberate step back, raising a silk handkerchief to her nose as if my proximity carried a disease. Her eyes lingered on the metallic joint of my prosthetic for one second too long. “Life as a cripple is hard enough. It’s totally normal for her to wear bargain bin shoes. Let her have them, she’s pathetic enough as it is.” The crowd of onlookers grew larger by the second. David let out a cold, arrogant scoff. “Did you hear that, Aria? My Alice is an absolute saint. Consider this an act of charity.” I took a slow, deep breath. Hold it in? Screw that. If you give sociopaths an inch, they will bury you alive. I reached out and grabbed the soft leather loafer off the display. If he loved throwing money around so much, I was going to introduce the heel of this shoe directly to his arrogant face. My arm tensed, ready to swing. Before I could launch the shoe, a large hand wrapped in white medical bandages suddenly slammed down onto the glass counter, pinning David’s titanium card in place. A lazy, highly amused, and utterly arrogant voice echoed through the quiet boutique. “Well, well. If it isn’t the great David. Running around in broad daylight playing Sugar Daddy?”

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1 After serving prison time for the second crime I had taken the blame for, I received a call from across time. The “me” on the screen was wearing a wedding dress, holding a confession statement in her hand, her face glowing with joy. “You’re me seven years from now, right? Did Ryan and I finally get married? Do we have two adorable kids?” My cracked lips split and bled. My voice came out rough and ugly. “We got married. The name on the certificate is yours, but you were never allowed to stand in the light. There are kids too. They’re not yours, but they’re registered under your name.” Seeing my pale, gaunt face and the faded prison uniform full of holes, her smile froze. Her voice trembled. “Wasn’t it only supposed to be three years? What does this mean?” I looked at the wrinkled document in her hand and laughed coldly. “The first time, you took the fall for your pregnant best friend. She finished the wedding in your place. The second time, after you took the blame again, she gave birth to Ryan’s second child.” “I don’t believe you. They’re the most important people in my life. How could they…” I turned the camera away from the prison behind me and toward the family of four who had just come to pick me up. Her voice stopped. No wonder. The two children looked far too much like Ryan. As his childhood sweetheart, she knew his face better than anyone. “So,” I asked her, “what will you choose this time?” Before she could answer, my old phone died. The two children hiding behind Vanessa looked at me. One made no effort to hide his disgust. The other covered half of her face in fear. “Mommy, is she a bad person? And why is she wearing beggar clothes?” Vanessa scolded softly, “Don’t be rude. She’s your godmother.” Ryan’s hand froze as he draped a coat over Vanessa’s shoulders. He looked at the wreck I had become, and guilt surfaced on his face. “Sorry. I made you wait too long today. I came in a rush and forgot to bring you clothes.” “As for Vanessa’s coat… it’s just habit.” Once, I was the one who had taught him that habit. Now he gave it to someone else and expected me to understand. I stared at him. “I waited for you for twelve hours. Since seven this morning…” “Emma, I’m so sorry.” Vanessa’s eyes reddened as she cut me off. “Ryan had to wait for me because I couldn’t miss the award ceremony today. If you want to blame someone, blame me.” With perfect sweetness, she tried to take off the coat and hand it to me. “Let’s go home first, okay? I asked the housekeeper to make your favorite dishes.” Ryan stopped her at once. “Emma is stronger than you. It’s fall now, and the nights are cold. What if you get sick?” He remembered that Vanessa caught colds easily. He did not remember that I hated the cold. The little girl looked up at them and smiled. “If Mommy gets sick, Daddy will feed her medicine with his mouth again! I promise I won’t peek this time!” The innocent words made both adults go stiff. Vanessa pretended nothing had happened and kept taking off the coat. I walked around her and went to the car. “No thanks. I don’t like wearing dirty things.” Ryan’s face darkened. “Vanessa once took a knife for you. She saved your life. How can you say that about her?” I shut the car door without giving him another glance. “What else do you want from me? Was seven years of my life not enough?” Ryan looked at me as I closed my eyes and refused to speak. Panic flashed through his gaze. “That’s not what I meant…” But the woman beside him started crying, and his attention was pulled away at once. “I knew Emma would hate me!” “What am I supposed to do, Ryan? In high school, I was poor and everyone shut me out. Emma was the one who helped me. I always wanted us to go back to the way we were, but she…” Back then, I had pitied her stubborn, resilient pride and become her closest friend. She had also been stabbed more than a dozen times while saving me from a group of thugs. She lost a kidney because of it. I thought we had a friendship that would last until death. Now I only regretted it. If I had not stuck my nose into her business back then, those thugs would never have come after me. And I would not have been stupid enough to destroy my future repaying a so-called life debt. As soon as Vanessa cried, three accusing gazes fell on me. As if I were the one who had done something wrong. But I was too tired to argue. After Ryan carried the sobbing, limp Vanessa into the passenger seat, he threw me a dissatisfied look. When I did not react, his brows tightened in irritation. After we got home, he took me to the basement, which had only one small window. He said he was afraid I would smash things again and make Vanessa feel guilty. I did not fight him. I simply plugged in my phone to charge. He thought I was deliberately sulking. “Emma Reed, stop acting like the whole world owes you.” “The first time, you volunteered. The second time, who can you blame? You brought that on yourself.” “Yes, I signed the consent form for your mother’s surgery behind your back. But the surgery going badly wasn’t entirely the surgeon’s fault. Did you really have to lose your head and call the police?” The thread holding me together snapped. I threw a glass of water at him. “Get out!” Ryan watched me coldly. “Emma, stop acting crazy. You’re already in your thirties. You don’t want a third criminal record, do you?” Then he turned and left, leaving the shattered glass on the floor. My phone, now powered on, gave a burst of static. Then came the angry, choked voice of my seven-years-younger self. “What right does he have to put you in the basement? You bought that house together. What does it have to do with Vanessa?” Only then did I realize that even when my phone had been dead, she could still hear everything around me. “So later, when you took the blame for her again, you were framed?” I nodded. The hatred inside me rose with the memory. “Vanessa’s second major surgery failed. The patient was my mother.” The breathing on the other end seemed to stop. “That’s impossible. Mom’s surgery was discussed with my professor’s team. She needed at least five years of recovery before her condition was stable enough.” My nails dug into my palm. The pain in my chest sharpened. “It was moved up. One year after I got out of prison. Vanessa needed an assessment for a promotion, and Mom’s case happened to be rare. If it succeeded, Vanessa would get both fame and status.” “But Vanessa didn’t have the skill. She left Mom in a vegetative state and nearly killed her.” “So I called the police and contacted the media.” “Only at the key moment, Ryan gave false testimony.” And I became the shameless doctor who used her own mother as an experiment to return to the operating room, then tried to frame her best friend. The younger me’s emotions began to crumble. “If life was that miserable, you should have left them.” With the old me’s temper, I would have. But seven years had changed far too much. I rolled up my sleeve. From my right wrist to my forearm ran a terrifying scar. “No money. No way to work. Mom is still in the hospital, and it takes a fortune to keep her alive long enough for any chance of waking up. I can’t leave yet.” The year I was released, I thought I had repaid my debt. I thought I could finally start living my own life. On the very day Ryan and I collected our marriage certificate, Vanessa moved into our home with her child. Only then did I slowly notice something was wrong. The two of them knew that house too well. Later, Vanessa cried and said, “Emma, I really had no choice. The child can’t live without his father, and he can’t live without the home he’s known for three years.” Ryan confessed. “When we were engaged, Vanessa and I got drunk and crossed the line. But it only happened once.” Just moments earlier, I had shared the news of my pregnancy with him. The pain of betrayal swallowed me whole. I smashed everything in the house, then raised my hand and slapped Vanessa again and again. Her four-year-old son glared at me with hatred. When I felt pain in my lower belly and tried to go downstairs, he shoved me from behind. Blood stained the floor. Some was from my body. Some was from my wrist. On the way to the hospital, Ryan carried me in his arms and still defended them. “Emma, Vanessa didn’t know you were pregnant. If she had, she wouldn’t have chosen today to come. And don’t blame Dylan. He’s little. He doesn’t understand…” That day, my mother and I were in the same hospital ward. Because of anesthesia, I was unconscious for a long time. When I woke and heard that Mom’s surgery had failed, it was like being struck by lightning. I could not accept that the person responsible for my child’s death had harmed my mother on the same day. How could I let that go? When I wanted Vanessa to pay for her greed, Ryan said he would help me. I was too heartbroken and physically weak. I never imagined that my childhood sweetheart would turn on me at the last second, pinning every mistake perfectly on me. I still remembered the coldness in his eyes when he sent me to prison for the second time. “Emma, you refused to listen and insisted on making things worse. You tried to ruin Vanessa’s career out of jealousy. This is what you brought on yourself.” “I spent so much time cleaning up Vanessa’s mess. I deliberately delayed getting treatment for your hand to teach you a lesson. Reflect on yourself this time.” “As for the baby, Vanessa and I can give you another one…” That memory was too painful. If Ryan had not told me my mother still had a chance, I never would have survived. The figure in the video stayed still for a long time, until the screen went dark. The next morning, as soon as I sat at the dining table, Ryan transferred money to me. “From now on, your monthly allowance is one thousand. Anything else you need, I’ll buy for you.” “Tell me when you run out.” He no longer gave me his secondary card. Because the money he had once given me as compensation had all been used to contact the media, almost dragging the woman he loved into danger. I accepted the transfer. I did not dare hope too much from that phone call from the past. Now all I wanted was to endure until Mom woke up, gather evidence, sue for divorce, take my share of the assets, and leave for the home that truly belonged to me. But even that tiny wish was too much for some people to allow. During breakfast, while Vanessa busied herself serving me, her son Dylan spoke innocently. “Daddy, for my birthday tomorrow, I want Grandma Lorraine’s house. Can I have it?” My left hand trembled around my fork. Because my mother’s name was Lorraine. Vanessa’s voice turned sharp. She refused at once. “No!” Realizing she had lost control, she softened her tone. “Dylan, you’re seven now. Be sensible. That belongs to your godmother.” Dylan pouted. “Why not? She’s lying in the hospital and never wakes up anyway. Leaving the house empty is a waste.” His little sister set down her bowl, eyes shining with excitement. “Yeah, Rosie wants it too! Grandma Lorraine’s children’s room is better than the one at home. Dylan and I love playing there.” “And the new swing, and the swimming pool they made after digging up the garden… I love all of it!” Vanessa’s face went white. “Emma, don’t listen to children talking nonsense. They remembered the wrong place.” With a loud crash, I stood so fast my chair fell backward. My ears rang. “Ryan Campbell! You took the woman who hurt my mother into my family home? What gave you the right?” Every blade of grass in that place was precious to me. But they had not only gone there. They had changed it. Ryan’s guilty look was quickly replaced by anger. “Enough! Don’t talk like that in front of the kids!” I swept the bowls off the table. Vanessa hugged the children and hid in the corner, trembling. I ignored their performance and grabbed my phone before walking out. When I got to the house, everything looked strange. The garden was gone. The swing my father had installed for me before he died had been replaced. Ryan knew how much I cherished it. Inside, all the furniture and decor had changed too, remodeled in the exact style of our marital home. Vanessa’s favorite style. Even my bedroom was filled with photos of their family of four. Anger made my vision go dark. A pair of hands caught me steadily from behind. It was Ryan. He held a contract and a bank card. His voice was full of helpless compromise. “Emma, I’ve transferred all the money for buying the house into your new card. It just needs to be linked to a phone number, but I can only give it to you later.” He handed me a pen. “After you sign, I’ll take you to see your mom tomorrow. Her medical bills need to be paid too.” I looked up in disbelief. “You’re threatening me?” He looked out at the river view and sighed. “It’s not a threat. It’s a fair trade.” “After your mother’s surgery failed, Vanessa couldn’t recover for a long time. She said she liked river views, so I brought her here.” “And Dylan has been having nightmares because of you. This house can be your apology gift for scaring him.” I had no choice. Fighting the dizziness, I gritted my teeth and signed. “Ryan Campbell, I have no home left. Are you happy now?” Maybe the emptiness in my eyes was too obvious. Before he left, he even silenced his ringing phone and tried to comfort me. “Don’t say that. Isn’t our marital home your home? You still have me. You still have Vanessa. Your mom is waiting for you too.” “I changed the hospital contact information to yours. From now on, you can be there for all her treatment.” But I never got the tomorrow he promised. That night, I received a call from the hospital. “Ms. Reed! Your mother’s surgery failed, and she’s being resuscitated. Please come to the hospital immediately!” The words “surgery failed” struck my chest numb. After I smashed open the basement lock, I realized no one was in the house. On the table, there was nothing but that bank card. The familiar helplessness and despair spread through my body. When I arrived at the hospital, Ryan was holding Vanessa. “It’s not your fault. You only suggested making her sign because you wanted to give Emma a surprise.” “If anyone’s to blame, it’s her mother’s poor health. This surgery had a low chance of success no matter who performed it. Tomorrow I’ll come up with a reason…” I could not listen anymore. “A reason to keep stalling?” Ryan instantly released Vanessa and shielded her behind him. “The document you forced me to sign. Was the surgery consent form inside it?” He looked at my bleeding hands, and pity flickered in his eyes. His silence was the answer. With shaking fingers, I pressed “confirm” on my phone. When Ryan saw the payment notice in my hand, his pupils tightened. “How did you know…” “The password wasn’t hard to guess. Vanessa’s birthday, right?” The million-dollar balance was drained to zero. Vanessa’s face filled with fear. Hearing chaotic footsteps from the stairwell, Ryan slapped me across the face. “You’re insane!” I spat blood and laughed until tears came. “Yes. I should’ve gone insane the first time you lied to me.” Even now, they were still trying to use Mom to threaten me. But I had once been a doctor too. How could I not know the success rate of that surgery? Camera flashes burst around us. Then the emergency room door opened. The doctor lowered his head. “I’m sorry. We did everything we could. We couldn’t save her.” The moment my prediction became reality, I still could not stand. Under that enormous blow, my consciousness fell into darkness. When I woke, the only thing beside me was an urn. All traces of the surgery were now impossible to verify. Ryan apologized to me with dark circles under his eyes, still using the same old excuse. I did not understand Vanessa’s good intentions. All I knew was that I had not even seen my mother one last time. “Ryan Campbell! I’ll use our marriage to hold you accountable. You and Vanessa won’t get away with this!” He did not react as I hit and clawed at him. “You can’t. The marriage certificate in your hand is fake.” I froze. He explained it word by word. “The kids can’t have a mother with a criminal record. That kind of stain would make them hold their heads down for life.” He grabbed me. “Vanessa cried all night in remorse. She’s terrified whenever she picks up a scalpel now.” “Apologize to her first and help untie the knot in her heart. Then explain things to the media. After the kids become adults, I’ll divorce her and marry you. Things will get better eventually.” I ripped myself free and backed toward the window, clutching my mother’s urn. “There is no eventually.” Rain and wind struck my face from outside, but they could not compare to even a fraction of the pain inside me. “Aren’t you always asking me to apologize?” Ryan saw the dead stillness in my eyes and instinctively reached out. When he lunged forward, he caught nothing. “Then this time, I’ll pay with my life…” From above, a heartbroken scream overlapped with the girl’s voice from that phone call. “Emma! Don’t!”

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1 I’ve had severe separation anxiety since childhood. Ten minutes out of sight, and I’d scream like a beagle, throwing the house into chaos. So, the moment my adoptive parents realized I was the Kensingtons’ biological heiress, they packed me off to the billionaire estate overnight. But the Kensingtons didn’t welcome me. Mother wired five million from Wall Street with a text: “Be good. Don’t come looking for me until it’s gone.” Father signed over a sprawling estate via his London office. Barbara, the fake heiress running the company, was ice-cold: “I have no love to give, but take all the cash you want.” For six months, I hadn’t seen a single one of them. Desperate for affection, not money, I posted a photo of my walk-in vault and nine-figure bank account online. The comments exploded with accusations of humblebragging and curses against the Kensington empire. As I drafted a petty reply, the butler burst in, panting frantically. “Miss Piper, it’s terrible! The family is bankrupt!” Just ten minutes ago, I was a billionaire heiress. Now, we were completely broke. The news came so suddenly. I had been sitting there debating whether to order Australian lobster or king crab for dinner when the butler kicked my door open like a runaway dog. “Awoo!” He let out a wail that sounded even more like a distressed beagle than my own anxious cries. “Miss Piper! It is an absolute disaster! The Kensington family has gone completely under!” The menu slipped from my fingers and hit the floor. No lobster. No king crab. Everything was gone. “What did you just say?” I stared at him, unable to process the words. “We are officially bankrupt! Your mother’s IPO in New York crashed spectacularly. Your father’s mergers in London collapsed. The company stock plummeted to zero in fifteen minutes. We are three billion dollars in debt! Three billion, Miss Piper!” The butler dropped to his knees, tears and snot streaming down his face. I sank back into the sofa, my head spinning. “Then… how much money do I still have in my account?” Sobbing, the butler held up a single finger. “A hundred million?” “One… one hundred dollars. All of your credit cards and trust funds have been frozen!” One hundred dollars. Overnight, I had gone from a girl with a nine-figure net worth to a broke nobody with barely enough cash to buy a cheap dinner. They say it is easy to go from rags to riches, but nearly impossible to go from riches back to rags. Just six months ago, I was a simple girl living in a small suburb. I had been diagnosed with separation anxiety at an early age. If I didn’t see someone close to me for ten minutes, my throat would automatically switch into full beagle mode. When my adoptive parents found out I wasn’t their biological child, they celebrated as if they had won the lottery. My adoptive mother wept as she crammed clothes into my suitcase. “Piper, your real parents are the Kensingtons! Do you know how rich they are? They’re worth billions!” “Once you go back, they’ll treat you like a princess and put you on a pedestal!” My adoptive father was even more impatient. He practically shoved me into the sleek Rolls-Royce waiting at the end of our street. “Go, go, go! Don’t keep them waiting!” Before I could even give them a proper, emotional goodbye, the car door slammed shut. I let out an agonizing, heartbroken wail. The drive took over three hours, and I howled for the entire duration of the trip. By the time the car pulled into the massive Kensington estate, my voice was completely hoarse. The moment I stepped out of the vehicle, I threw myself toward the woman standing at the front of the receiving line. “Mom!” The woman awkwardly pushed me back, bowing deeply. “Miss Piper, I am Martha, your new head housekeeper.” I froze, my gaze shifting past her. A security guard behind her was holding up a large LED light board. Neon letters scrolled across the screen: Welcome home, Piper. Love, Mom. I am currently in New York taking the company public. Call me if it’s an emergency. The butler gently took my luggage and handed me three different phones, each showing an active video call. On the first screen, my biological mother was huddled with a group of executives preparing for the final Wall Street presentation. On the second screen, my father was in a sharp three-piece suit, rapidly signing cross-border acquisition papers. On the third screen, a young woman wearing a sleek gaming headset sat in a glowing neon chair, silently monitoring the stock market. The butler kept piling things into my hands. “This is an unlimited black card from your mother.” “This is a stock transfer agreement from your father, granting you three percent of the company’s shares.” “And this is from Miss Barbara.” He handed me a delicate pink envelope. My eyes lit up. Finally, a personal note from my sister! I tore the envelope open, expecting words of sisterly warmth, but there was only a single typed line: I have no love to give you, but you can have as much cash as you want. — Barbara. My lips trembled, and my chest tightened. I flipped the paper over, desperately searching for some hidden message of affection. Instead, there was only a printed QR code with a caption: Scan for a welcome gift of five million dollars. Surrounded by a mountain of wealth I could never hope to spend in a lifetime, I let out my very first howl in the Kensington mansion. The butler nearly jumped out of his skin. “Miss Piper! What is wrong?” “I just wanted a hug!” I wailed, tears pouring down my face. “Is a simple hug that hard? Awoo! Awoo!” The butler backed away three steps and frantically typed a message on his phone. Five minutes later, an armored security vehicle drove onto the estate. Several guards unloaded two massive, heavy vaults and set them directly in front of me. The butler’s voice echoed hollowly from behind the steel boxes. “Miss Piper, your mother said if you want a hug, you can wrap your arms around these. There is fifty million dollars in cash inside.” “Awoo! Awoo!” I hugged the freezing, heavy steel safe, sobbing until I hiccuped in the middle of the empty, echoing mansion. And now, my current reality had collided with those memories. “Where are my parents?” I asked quietly. “Your parents are on a flight back home. The moment they land, they will be taken in for questioning. Miss Barbara was detained earlier, but she was just released on bail. She is on her way back here now.” I blinked, murmuring to myself, “How did this happen?” Ever since I moved into this mansion, I had barely seen a living member of the family. The butler would print out my mother’s itinerary every morning: New York on Monday, Singapore on Tuesday, Dubai on Wednesday. Her schedule was tighter than a head of state’s. My father was perpetually locked in boardrooms, either signing contracts or flying to sign them. And Barbara, the acting CEO, was constantly surrounded by an entourage of executives, commanding a presence far greater than mine. Now, suddenly, everything was ruined? Standing in the center of my enormous bedroom, I felt my separation anxiety flaring up again. I let out a cry that drowned out the butler’s sniffling. “Awoo! I want my mom! I want my dad!” “I want Barbara!” But this time, no matter how hard I cried, nobody came to comfort me. The news of our bankruptcy spread like wildfire. The first wave of visitors were the bank representatives. Accompanied by local marshals, they politely but firmly served foreclosure notices on all of our properties, exempting only the primary mansion for the time being. I watched silently as they marched in and out, carrying away the expensive decor. When the house began to look empty, I let out another howl. The workers, clearly warned beforehand, simply put on noise-canceling earplugs and continued moving the boxes. The second wave of visitors were the suppliers. They were far less polite. They swept through the rooms like locusts, grabbing everything in sight, including the brand-new smartphone sitting on the coffee table. I didn’t dare speak up. I knew what it felt like to have no one standing behind me. I had been back with this family for six months. One hundred and eighty days. I had never sat down for a single meal with my biological parents. I had only seen Barbara a handful of times, catching brief glimpses of her through the bulletproof glass of her luxury car as it sped past me. That was the closest we had ever been. After the crowds cleared, I sat in the quiet house and cried. My adoptive parents had promised me that my real mother and father would shower me with love. So why did they never show up? For the past half-year, the only maternal affection I received came in the form of bank transaction alerts. Paternal love arrived as stock certificates. Barbara, attempting to fit the pattern, would periodically send QR codes worth five million dollars. I had called my adoptive parents for advice. They told me I needed to be more proactive. But every time I called my real mother, her secretary would answer in a cold, professional tone, saying she was in a meeting. My father’s calls went through occasionally, but he would hang up after a few hurried words. I didn’t even have Barbara’s number. My separation anxiety had worsened over the months. I went from howling three times a day until my throat was raw, to howling once a day, to eventually going days in complete silence. The butler would report my behavior to the secretary, who would tell the assistant, who would relay it over a radio. But no one ever answered. My cries were like stones dropped into a deep ocean, sinking without a single ripple. Just as a group of creditors started moving toward my bedroom, the butler stepped in front of them. He shielded me like a protective guardian. “This room contains Miss Piper’s personal belongings! We have notarized proof! You cannot touch anything in here!” The creditors looked at each other, grumbled, and turned back to the hallway. Eventually, even the main furniture was gone. The grand living room was entirely empty except for a small, cheap dog-shaped sofa I had purchased with my own allowance. The receipt had my name on it, so they couldn’t take it. I curled up on the small sofa, clutching the dusty LED sign the butler had used on my first day. I turned it on, watching the words roll across the dark screen: Welcome home, Piper. Love, Mom. As the news of the bankruptcy solidified, the household staff began to leave. Martha left first, packing up her entire quarters before the sun had even set. Then went the chefs, the cleaners, the drivers, and the staff whose only job was to bring me water. The butler stood quietly by my side, watching the last of them depart. Seeing me open my eyes, he reached into his jacket and pulled out a thick envelope. “Miss Piper, I must leave as well.” “This bankruptcy is complicated. You must take care of yourself.” “There is two thousand dollars in here. Use it for emergencies.” I shook my head, refusing to take it, but he forced it into my hands anyway. Then he stepped back and bowed deeply. “Miss Piper, I know you are dealing with an illness, but please try to howl less. It is not good for your throat.” With that, he walked out the heavy front doors. Looking out at the vast, silent estate, I let out a long, trembling cry. “Awoo! Awoo!” I don’t know how long I sat there crying before the front doors creaked open again. I stopped howling and looked up. It wasn’t my parents, and it wasn’t Barbara. It was Richard Bradley, the eldest son of the Bradley family. I had seen him once before when he came to beg my father for a business favor. Barbara had dismissed him with a few sharp words. I had passed him in the hallway that day, and he had stared at me with a sleazy, lingering grin. “So this is the real Kensington heiress? You’re definitely softer than that bitch Barbara.” “Hey, sweetheart, why don’t you come with me instead?” Before I could even react, Barbara had shoved him toward the door. “You think you’re good enough for my sister? Get the hell out of here!” She had turned to me, looking thoroughly annoyed. “That guy has already ruined the lives of three women. If you don’t want to be the fourth, stay far away from him.” I had nodded quickly, feeling a sudden warmth toward my sister. And now, here he was again, clearly up to no good. “Piper, I’m a reasonable guy,” Richard said, tossing a prenuptial agreement onto the floor in front of me. “If you marry me, I promise your family’s debts won’t touch you.” “But you have to sign this. And you’ll need to give me at least three sons.” I wanted to howl, but I forced myself to hold it in. I was a Kensington, and I refused to show weakness in front of someone like him. But before I could speak, a heavy ceramic vase flew through the air, shattering right against the side of his head. “Richard Bradley! You vulture! Get the hell out of my house!” My eyes widened. It was Barbara. She stood in the doorway, her hair messy and her clothes wrinkled. She wasn’t wearing any makeup, and her lips were dry. She looked nothing like the polished, elegant executive she used to be. Richard tried to step toward me, but Barbara grabbed a broom from the corner and started swinging, driving him back toward the door like a stray dog. Though, looking at ourselves, we were the ones who looked like stray dogs now. The thought made my eyes well up again. “Barbara! What took you so long?” “I was so scared!” Barbara rolled her eyes, pulled a pair of earplugs from her pocket, put them in, and sat down on the floor to tap furiously on a calculator. After a long silence, she let out a heavy sigh. “It’s not nearly enough.” She looked at me, still sniffling on the sofa, and said sharply, “Stop crying. None of this is your fault anyway.” “The company’s finances were targeted. Several major competitors conspired to short our stock, and they set up those offshore shell companies to trap our parents.” “Mom and Dad wanted to come home to see you this month, but they couldn’t. You have to understand, they aren’t just responsible for us. They have thousands of employees depending on them.” I understood that our parents were busy. “But what about you? Why did you always avoid me?” Barbara looked at me, her eyes slowly turning red. “Because I was jealous of you.” “You are the biological daughter, and I’m just the fake. Once you came back, I knew I would have to leave eventually. I worked myself to the bone just to prove to our parents that I was useful, that I could help the company, and that I could protect you. I didn’t want to risk losing them.” She let out a long breath. “But don’t worry. I won’t let you carry this weight alone.” Barbara began making calls, trying to secure loans. We only needed enough to pay our parents’ bail so they could be released to help stabilize the company. But call after call was met with cold rejections or outright insults. I watched as her shoulders sank lower and lower with every rejection. Finally, I stood up and pulled her toward the basement stairs. “Where are we going?” she asked, her voice tired. Without a word, I lifted a hidden trapdoor in the corner of the cellar floor and pointed downward. Deep inside the hidden space, a massive pile of solid gold bars gleamed softly in the dark. “Barbara,” I said quietly, “I have a lot of money now.” “Can you give me a lot of love instead?”

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1 Returning from my mother’s follow-up appointment, I found her belongings piled in the hallway. Dominic held a blueprint, directing housekeepers to repaint her room pastel pink for Becca’s livestreams. Spotting us, he barely glanced up. “Your mother seems fine. She should head home.” I stood frozen. A month ago, she’d undergone grueling open-heart surgery, and recent postoperative infections required absolute rest. Besides, I’d co-funded this townhouse, and we’d agreed to reserve a bedroom for our parents. Before I could speak, my mother picked up her cracked guardian angel charm from the floor. “We’ve overstayed, Fiona. I’ll buy a ticket home.” “Mom, remember what the doctor said?” She glanced at Dominic’s expressionless face. “I feel better, really…” “What time is your train? I’ll have the driver take you,” Dominic cut in smoothly, his voice ice-cold. My mother paled, swaying slightly. “I’ll check now.” Watching her luggage and Dominic’s indifferent profile, I made my decision. I was divorcing him. My mother had already pulled out her old smartphone, trying to open the ticketing app. But the phone was too old and kept freezing. Sweat began to bead on her forehead from anxiety, and she cast a helpless, apologetic look toward me. I helped her sit down on the living room sofa, keeping my voice gentle. “You rest first.” Then, I knelt on the floor and began gathering her things one by one. Our family portrait lay shattered on the floor. My father had passed away when I was very young, and that was the only photo we had of the three of us together. She carried it with her wherever she went. As I picked up the frame, a shard of glass sliced into my finger, and I let out a sharp gasp. Dominic turned around, his eyes falling on my bleeding finger. His brow furrowed slightly. “Why are you always so careless?” For a moment, my mind drifted to the past. “Fiona, how could you be so careless? Does it hurt? Let me see.” The same words, but the voice in my memory was clear, bright, and filled with genuine worry. When Dominic was twenty, even a tiny scratch on my skin would make him panic and blame himself for days. “It is just a photograph. Is it really worth hurting yourself over?” His voice dragged me back to the harsh reality. At twenty-eight, Dominic only saw my pain as a dramatic overreaction. “Go get the first-aid kit and bandage it up,” he said, already turning his attention back to the design blueprint. It was as if nothing in the world could be more important than that piece of paper. My mother brought over the first-aid kit, her eyes red as she gently wrapped my finger. The front door chimed as the passcode was entered. Becca stepped inside and immediately let out a dramatic sigh. “Oh my, why is it such a mess in here? Dominic, haven’t they cleared out this trash yet?” Dominic’s expression changed instantly. “Stay back! There is broken glass on the floor,” he warned, his voice rising in concern. He walked around the pile of my mother’s belongings with an expression of deep disgust, stepping directly to Becca’s side. He swept her up into his arms and carried her toward the guest bedroom. “Go see if there is anything else you want to change in your room.” “I want to put a few of my limited-edition anime figures on this shelf.” “Alright, I will have someone buy them for you.” “They have to be the rare ones, okay?” “You can have whatever you want.” “Dominic, why are you always so good to me?” “Because you deserve it.” Their conversation wasn’t loud, but every word drifted clearly into my ears. I thought I had grown numb to the pain, but the tightness in my chest betrayed me. My mother gently touched my face, fighting back her tears. “Fiona, don’t be sad. Don’t be sad, sweetheart. Mom is here…” I rested my head against her shoulder and bit my lip, letting my tears fall silently. “Fiona, clear these things out quickly. Becca needs to start her stream tonight,” Dominic said, walking back into the living room. When he saw my tear-streaked face, he froze, a flash of confusion crossing his eyes. Before he could say anything, Becca peeked out from behind him. “Oh, Fiona, why are you and your mom crying like this?” She blinked, suddenly covering her mouth in mock horror. “Don’t tell me your mother’s illness has taken a turn for the worse? Did the doctor say there is no hope left?” The lingering thread of my composure snapped. I stood up and screamed at her, “Don’t you dare curse my mother!” Becca shrank back into Dominic’s chest, sobbing softly. “I was only trying to show some concern…” Dominic wrapped an arm around her, his gaze turning icy as he glared at me. “What are you throwing a tantrum for now? Do you have to target Becca every chance you get?” I stared at the handsome man before me, but I could no longer remember what he looked like when he loved me. My mother gently pulled at my arm, shaking her head. “Dominic, please don’t blame Fiona. She is just worried about me. I am perfectly fine, really. I will pack up and leave right now.” I could barely stand. She was always like this, bowing her head and apologizing to Dominic, terrified that her presence would cause a rift between us. She was so afraid that after she passed away, I would have no one left to look after me. I swallowed the lump in my throat and forced my tears back. “Mom, we’re leaving.” I packed her things into a suitcase and booked a ride to the small suburban apartment I had bought before my marriage. It was far away from the hospital where she received her treatments, but it was quiet. “The bed is a bit small, but we can manage if we squeeze together,” I said as we unpacked. Hearing this, my mother tried to push me toward the door. “Don’t fight with Dominic. You need to go back. If you stay here, you won’t even know if something happens between him and that girl…” “Mom! I want to stay here and take care of you. Nothing else matters.” Whether anything happened between Dominic and Becca would not change based on my presence. But my mother didn’t understand. Her beliefs were still rooted in the traditional idea that a woman had to hold onto her husband’s heart at all costs. “I can’t be a burden to you, Fiona. Go back and talk to him. Don’t argue…” “I am going to divorce Dominic.” Her hands froze, and a storm of emotions crossed her face. During those long seconds of silence, I prepared myself for a lecture. But the expected scolding never came. “Is it really because you don’t want to live with him anymore, or is it because of me?” she asked softly. My tears spilled over. “Mom, I don’t want to be with him anymore. I am not happy. I am miserable.” I used the simplest words to make her understand my resolve. “If you leave him, will you be happy?” I couldn’t speak, but I nodded through my tears. “Okay,” she said, her voice trembling. “Mom supports you.” I stared at her for a moment before throwing myself into her arms and crying my heart out. After settling my mother in the apartment, I returned to our townhouse. Dominic and Becca were curled up on the sofa, watching a movie. “I told you he liked her! You see?” “Yes, yes, you are always the smartest.” “Of course I am. I saw it coming a mile away.” We used to do things like this too. We could debate a single line of dialogue or a minor character’s motive for hours. But after Becca returned from abroad, Dominic’s patience with me had evaporated. “I am busy every day, Fiona. I don’t have time to watch this kind of brainless trash with you.” Yet, he had plenty of time to accompany Becca to trendy dessert shops, watch late-night movies, and even walk away from multi-million-dollar business contracts just to take her on a vacation. When I confronted him about it, his response was always dismissive. “Becca just got back to the country, and her parents asked me to look after her. Fiona, you simply don’t understand the kind of lifelong bond our families share.” That single phrase, our families, exposed the deep social divide between us. Even after all these years, and even though everyone knew me as Mrs. Dominic, that gap had never truly closed. It had only been temporarily ignored. Becca’s return had simply stripped away the illusion. Their laughter cut short the moment they noticed me standing in the doorway. “Oh, Fiona, you are back!” Becca said, running over to wrap her arms around my elbow. “I am so hungry. Can you make that garlic crawfish boil I love tonight?” I took a step back, pulling my arm out of her grasp, and walked past her toward the bedroom. “Becca only asked for some seafood. Did that offend you too?” Dominic’s sarcastic voice followed me from the doorway. I opened my suitcase and replied without looking at him, “I am allergic to seafood.” He went quiet for a moment, a trace of embarrassment in his voice. “Right. I forgot.” I kept my back to him, a bitter smile gracing my lips. He didn’t forget. He just didn’t care anymore. When he used to care, he remembered my allergy better than I did. If there was ever seafood on a dinner table, he would make sure it was placed as far away from me as possible. When his friends teased him about being overly dramatic, saying a seafood allergy couldn’t spread through the air, he would simply shrug. “Anything that makes my Fiona uncomfortable shouldn’t even be in her line of sight.” I closed my eyes, forcing that memory of Dominic out of my head. That man was long gone. “Why are you packing a bag?” Dominic asked, stepping into the room. “I am moving to my apartment for a while to take care of my mother.” He let out a dry laugh. “That tiny place of yours is barely big enough for one person. Stop playing games. Your mother is fine now, she should just head back to her hometown.” I stopped folding my clothes and turned to look at him, my expression cold. “I never said my mother was fine.” My mother’s heart required a delicate valve repair. If Dominic had made a single phone call to the hospital his company invested in, she could have received a minimally invasive procedure, saving her from immense pain. But Dominic had refused. His excuse was that he had no authority to bypass protocol, and that he needed to avoid any appearance of conflict of interest. I had believed him. I was so afraid of damaging his professional reputation that I didn’t push. Instead, my mother had to undergo a traditional open-heart surgery, which involved cutting through her breastbone. The surgery had aged her by ten years. She was forced to take blood thinners for the rest of her life, undergo frequent blood tests, and face constant check-ups to monitor for recurrence. I had to resign from my job just to manage her recovery. A week after her surgery, she began running a high fever. The diagnosis was infective endocarditis, the most dangerous complication of heart surgery, with an incredibly high mortality rate. The doctor warned us that she needed absolute rest, and any stress or exhaustion could be fatal. Dominic knew all of this, but he had never truly cared. Yet, two weeks ago, when Becca’s distant relative was hospitalized, and her mother asked her to visit, Dominic had personally phoned the hospital director after Becca casually mentioned it. He had arranged the best specialists and a private VIP suite. When Becca had teased him about making such a fuss over a distant relative, he had simply smiled. “It was just a quick phone call, and it gives you status in front of your family. Why wouldn’t I do it?” That was when I finally understood. Love is measured by how much you are willing to prioritize someone. When placed on a scale, the unloved partner must always prepare to be cast aside. Dominic stared at me for a long time before letting out a soft sigh. “I know you are upset with me because of Becca taking the room, but your mother staying here permanently isn’t a long-term solution either. Becca wanted to start her social media career, and I was just trying to help her out…” I let out a cold laugh. “So, it is inappropriate for my recovering mother to stay here, but perfectly fine for Becca to move in?” He pressed his lips together, falling back on his usual defense. “Her parents asked me to take care of her. In our circle, we always look out for each other…” “Do her parents know their daughter has moved into a married man’s house? Or is this just how high society teaches manners these days?” I raised my voice, the anger finally breaking through. Dominic had never seen me like this, and he stood frozen in shock. “Fiona… how can you humiliate me and my parents like this?” Becca cried, covering her face as she ran out of the room. “Becca!” Dominic called out, immediately chasing after her. At the door, he stopped and looked back at me, his eyes filled with disappointment and anger. “Fiona, Becca is sensitive. If she hurts herself because of your cruel words, I will not let this go.” I laughed until tears came to my eyes. Dominic, you don’t need to let anything go. I have already let go of you. When I returned to the apartment, my mother was waiting for me with a home-cooked meal. The tiny space was warm, filled with a simple, peaceful comfort I hadn’t felt in years. Later that evening, Dominic called me. I answered, but there was only loud background noise on the other end. “Dominic, how are you looking after Becca? Her eyes are completely swollen.” “Don’t say that, it wasn’t Dominic’s fault.” “Then who was it? Did Fiona cause trouble again?” “I will handle it. I won’t let Becca suffer any more of this.” “If you ask me, you should just get a divorce. She was never from our world anyway. First she brings her sick mother into your home, and next thing you know, she will be putting her dead father’s ashes on your nightstand.” “That is enough. Fiona is my wife, and that is not going to change.” The call disconnected. I realized my heart had gone completely numb. Then my phone buzzed again, this time from an unfamiliar number. “Fiona, I have reviewed your mother’s medical records. I am back in the country now, and I can perform her follow-up surgery. But you will need to bring her to Fairview.” The voice on the phone was like a ray of light cutting through the darkness that had hung over me for weeks. It was Wesley, my college senior. I immediately booked the earliest flight to Fairview. Over the next few days, my mind was occupied entirely by my mother’s upcoming surgery. It was only when Dominic tried to call me again that I remembered we still had unfinished business. “How long are you going to keep acting like this?” his voice carried his usual irritation, but there was a faint trace of tenderness underneath, as if to remind me that he still cared. “Fiona, come back home. I have already forgiven you, and I miss your cooking,” Becca’s voice chimed in. “Becca isn’t holding a grudge anymore, Fiona. Stop dragging this out and make your way back,” Dominic added. “Yes, Fiona, come back and cook. Dominic has been taking me out to eat every night, and I am getting tired of it.” I looked out the window at the bright moon hanging in the night sky, a faint smile touching my lips. “Are you finished?” The two of them went quiet. “Dominic, my lawyer will be sending you the divorce papers. After this, we are finished.” A burst of laughter came from the receiver. “Oh, Fiona, did you learn that move online? Everyone in our circle tries that trick. It won’t work on someone as smart as Dominic.” Dominic’s voice turned angry. “Fiona, I thought you would use this time to reflect on your behavior. Is this the best you can come up with? Do you think divorce is a joke?” I had no desire to argue further, so I hung up. A moment later, a text from him arrived: If you want to throw a fit, go ahead. Becca and I are heading to the Hamptons for a few days, so I won’t be around to watch your drama anyway. A minute later, another message came through: I will bring you back some pink pearls from the coast. We can have them made into a necklace to make up for our anniversary gift. I blocked his number. The next day, my mother and I landed at the Fairview airport. From a distance, I could see Wesley waiting at the arrival gate. “Fiona! Over here!” He waved. “Wesley!” “Hello, Mrs. Harrison. I am Wesley, Fiona’s college senior. How are you feeling after the flight?” My mother smiled warmly. “Thank you, Wesley. I appreciate all your help. I am feeling quite well.” Wesley smiled back. “Please don’t be so formal. Just call me Wesley.” After we arrived at the apartment Wesley had arranged for us, my mother and I began unpacking our bags. From the living room, Wesley called out, “Fiona, your phone is ringing. It is an unsaved number.” “Could you answer it for me, Wesley?” I called back. “Sure.” Wesley pressed the answer button, his voice smooth and polite. “Hello, who is this?”

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1 When my morning sickness became unbearable, I instinctively grabbed my phone and dialed Christian’s number. But the person who answered was Christian from three years in the future. Watching the little girl in his arms babbling and calling him “Daddy” on the video call, a sweet smile spread across my face, and even my physical discomfort seemed to fade. “So our baby is a girl. She looks just like you.” He had been quiet, but upon hearing my words, his expression grew cold. “She is not your child. She is the daughter I had with Amy, your father’s illegitimate daughter.” “You always loved to call her a homeless stray, didn’t you? So I decided to give her a family.” I froze in place, utterly incredulous. Christian didn’t even blink, his tone as casual as if he were discussing a minor detail. “Our own child died right after birth. You didn’t even get to see his face.” “Later, when you stumbled upon my wedding with Amy, you lost your mind right there on the spot.” “For Amy’s safety, I had no choice but to send you to a mental institution, locked away for the rest of your life.” My brain exploded with a loud buzz, and my hands shook uncontrollably. But on the other end, he smiled, his expression one of pure relief. “Laura, I have told you everything now. Whether you want to continue this marriage is entirely up to you.” The air seemed to freeze. I could no longer hold my phone, letting it slip through my fingers and clatter to the floor. The morning sickness I had just managed to suppress surged back with a vengeance. But the voice from the speaker on the floor wouldn’t let me go, continuing relentlessly. “I remember this day. You were suffering from morning sickness and begged me to take you to the hospital for a check-up.” “But Amy was already in labor, and I couldn’t leave her side. I stayed with her the entire time.” “By the time I came home, you had fainted on the floor, and you almost lost the baby.” He let out a heavy sigh, sounding as if he had been entirely helpless in the matter. “But you didn’t even blame me. You thought I was just too busy with work, and you hugged me to comfort me.” “At that moment, I really wanted to confess everything to you, but I was afraid you wouldn’t be able to handle it.” The brutal truth kept piercing my ears, causing a sharp, physical pain in my chest. Suppressing the nausea, I asked with a trembling voice, “Why?” “Why, of all people, does it have to be her?” He knew Amy was the illegitimate daughter of my father’s mistress. He knew Amy had deliberately shown up at our house to humiliate my mother, causing her to suffer a stroke. She was still lying in a coma in the hospital because of her. Back then, Christian was the one who had stood firmly in front of me, slapping Amy across the face to defend my family. Now, he was sleeping with her behind my back, and they even had a child together. “Amy isn’t a bad person at heart. She was just never loved, which made her desperate.” “Laura, you have a complete family and the love of your parents, but what does she have?” “She had to hide in the dark, watching you be happy while she had nothing.” When he spoke of Amy, his voice was filled with deep tenderness, as if being with me had been nothing but a sacrifice. On our wedding night, he had been so excited that he couldn’t sleep, holding me tightly and whispering how happy he was to finally marry the girl of his dreams. But now, he didn’t even care about the woman who had put my mother in the hospital. Tears blurred my vision. Before I could find my voice to confront him, a sharp pain shot through my abdomen. I didn’t call out to him for help again. Instead, right before I lost consciousness, I managed to dial emergency services. When I woke up, I was staring at the sterile white ceiling of a hospital room. I tried to move my hand, only to find it held tightly in a warm grasp. Sensing my movement, the man beside me quickly leaned forward, his eyes filled with intense concern. “Laura, you’re finally awake.” “How are you feeling? Does your stomach still hurt?” “Thank goodness you called the ambulance in time. The baby is safe.” I stared at him for a long time, my mind struggling to process the scene. Only then did I realize that the man in front of me was the present-day Christian. This was the expectant father who, just last night, had pressed his ear to my stomach to listen for a heartbeat. This was the devoted husband who had taken massage classes just to soothe my swollen legs. I looked at his face, my mind flooded with memories of his gentle care. When Amy had ruined my family, taken my father away, and tried to cast me out, Christian had held me close, promising he would make up for all the love I had lost. He loved me so much, and he had always protected me from the slightest harm. How could he ever conspire with the person who had put my mother in the hospital? Feeling the warmth of his palm, I began to doubt the reality of that future video call. “It doesn’t hurt anymore. Don’t worry,” I said, forcing a small smile as I looked at him. He was wearing the same clothes he had on when he left the house, and he carried that familiar, comforting woody scent. His eyes held only me, with no trace of guilt. I was about to let out a sigh of relief, but then my gaze fell on his hand. His ring finger was bare. The wedding band he had sworn never to take off was missing. I pressed my lips together and spoke softly. “Christian, I feel a bit uncomfortable again.” “Could you go find the doctor for me?” Christian’s expression tightened instantly, and he scrambled to his feet. “Yes, I will go right now. Wait for me.” The moment he left the room, I reached for his phone on the bedside table. The passcode was still my birthday, the wallpaper was still our wedding photo, and his notes app was filled with lists of my favorite things. Everything seemed perfectly normal, brimming with love. I breathed a sigh of relief, a small smile returning to my lips. Thank goodness I hadn’t misjudged him. But just as I was about to lock the screen, my finger hovered over the photo gallery. Christian always took screenshots of my online shopping cart to surprise me by purchasing the items. Curious to see what he was planning next, I opened the album. As I tapped the screen, hundreds of photos of him and Amy flooded my vision. The restaurants we had dined at, the vacation spots we had visited, they had already been to all of them together. Even the wedding dress Christian had personally selected for me was one that Amy had already tried on. I scrolled to the very last photo. Christian had brought her into our home, holding her close on our sofa while I lay asleep on the adjacent couch in the background. I stared at the image, my mind going entirely blank. My hands shook so violently I could barely breathe. Right then, my phone buzzed. It was a call from the future Christian. “You must have found them by now.” “You almost found out three years ago too, but you chose to deceive yourself.” “Laura, our child didn’t die of natural causes. He died because his heart was harvested for a transplant.” His tone was incredibly casual, as if he were discussing a minor detail. My brain shut down, and the blood in my veins ran cold. He continued without caring about my shock. “It was hard for me too. He was so small, after all.” “He didn’t even get to open his eyes before he stopped breathing.” “To make sure you wouldn’t find out, I had his body cremated immediately. I didn’t even leave you his ashes.” My eyes widened, and I screamed into the receiver. “That’s impossible!” “That was our baby! Christian would never do that!” “Never? Why don’t you walk downstairs then? Amy is currently staying in the VIP ward on the third floor.” His absolute certainty shattered the last of my denial. I forced myself out of bed, every step a painful struggle. The moment the elevator reached the third floor, I heard a familiar, cold voice coming from the hallway. “From this moment on, you must monitor her twenty-four hours a day.” “Nothing must go wrong with Laura’s pregnancy.” “If the heart transplant for Lily isn’t successful, I will make sure none of you ever work in this industry again!” The doctors bowed repeatedly, not daring to make a sound. I clutched the hallway handrail, my knees buckling. The man who had just looked at me with such tenderness was now calmly planning to take my baby’s life. Only after Christian walked into the VIP suite did I gather the strength to step out of the elevator. I walked to the glass window of the room, my fingers digging into my palms. Inside lay Amy. Next to her bed was an incubator containing a tiny newborn. Seeing Amy’s worried expression, Christian leaned down and kissed her forehead. “Don’t worry. I have already instructed the doctors.” “Laura is gullible. We will just tell her the baby was stillborn, and she will believe it without question.” Amy frowned, still uneasy. “What if she finds out?” “Even if she does, what can she do about it?” Christian chuckled softly, entirely confident. “Her father has abandoned her, and her mother is paralyzed in a hospital bed. Without me, she is absolutely nothing.” “You just focus on recovering your health.” He pinched her nose affectionately, his tone light. I leaned against the wall, covering my mouth to stifle my sobs. As I reached for the door handle to confront them, another message popped up on my phone. Laura, I suggest you don’t make the same mistake you made three years ago. You have nothing right now. Confronting him will change nothing. His words felt like a mockery of my helplessness. When you were pregnant, I used the excuse of your health to convince you to step down from the company. In reality, I handed your position over to Amy. The business you spent eight years building was given to her by my own hands. I stood frozen in the hallway. I quickly messaged my assistant to verify the claim. The reply came back instantly: on the very day my pregnancy was confirmed, Christian had stripped me of my executive duties. Amy, a high school dropout, had been appointed Vice President on her first day at the firm. The man who had stayed up with me to revise business plans, who had run himself ragged to secure investors, and who had held me close promising to protect me, was now ready to kill our child and give my life’s work to my enemy. A wave of profound grief and anger washed over me. I bit my lip so hard the taste of copper filled my mouth. Hearing footsteps approaching, I forced myself to pull away from the wall and slip back to my room before Christian could find me. By the time he returned, he had put his gentle mask back on. He brought the doctors in to perform a detailed check-up. Seeing the sweat on my forehead and my red eyes, Christian panicked, grabbing my hand. “What’s wrong? Does your stomach hurt?” At his signal, the medical team began examining me with utmost care. Christian held my hand the entire time, looking as if he wished he could bear the pain for me. “Mr. Faerch, your wife is fine. It is just hormonal fluctuation, likely caused by stress.” Hearing this, Christian let out a sigh of relief, his face filled with self-reproach. “It is my fault. I have been so busy with work lately that I haven’t taken proper care of you.” “Once we go home, I will make some soothing tea for you.” These gestures, which once filled me with warmth, now only highlighted his terrifying acting skills. His care wasn’t love. It was a calculated performance. The last lingering shred of affection in my heart died completely. On the drive back, Christian kept fussing over my comfort. He adjusted the air conditioning vent away from me and placed a soft pillow behind my back. I stared out the window, refusing to look at him. Suddenly, his phone began to ring repeatedly. He glanced at the screen, quickly silencing the call with a troubled expression. But the caller persisted. “Is there an issue at the office?” I asked, acting completely oblivious. “You can just drop me off at home and go handle it. I will be fine.” Christian smiled, patting my head. “Alright. You are always so understanding.” After dropping me off with a few hurried instructions, he sped away. Once his car disappeared around the corner, I called a taxi and headed straight to the company headquarters. But when I reached the lobby, my facial recognition failed to open the security gates. User not recognized as an employee. Access denied. I let out a bitter, mocking laugh. At this point, what was I still trying to prove to myself? Christian had betrayed me completely, aligning himself with my worst enemy. Why was I still trying to search for excuses? Just then, another text arrived. I knew you would go to the office, but it is useless now. The first time Amy and I slept together was right there in your office. There was no remorse in his words, only a smug recollection of the affair. I was pretending to help you revise a business proposal while she was hidden under your desk. You didn’t suspect a thing, and you even ran out to buy me medicine because you thought my flushed face was from a fever. Every word felt like a knife twisting in my heart. All along, my care had been nothing but a joke to them. Suppressing the lump in my throat, I dialed my lawyer’s number. “Initiate a full audit of the company. I want every single transaction examined.” By evening, I returned to our dark, empty apartment and sank onto the floor. Christian was still out. After a long hesitation, I dialed the future Christian’s number again. “Christian, did you ever regret what you did to me?” “I thought we had built a life together through so much struggle, and that we were the most important people in each other’s lives.” The line went quiet. After a long pause, his voice came through, raspy and low. “I did regret it.” “The baby’s death and the loss of the company broke you completely. You lost your mind.” “To protect Amy, I committed you to the asylum.” “But I forgot that Amy’s mother was also in that facility. The moment she saw you, she decided to make you pay.” He sent a photo to my phone. I was covered in blood, my limbs severely bruised, hooked up to a ventilator just to stay alive. “You shouldn’t have targeted Amy back then. Her mother went to extremes to get revenge.” “In the end, you were left in a vegetative state, and Amy’s mother was partially paralyzed from the struggle. To get even, Amy slipped into the hospital and pulled the plug on your mother’s ventilator.” “To cover up her crime, I signed the consent form to withdraw life support, letting your mother pass away early.” He let out a long sigh, as if he had been a mere bystander in the tragedy, ignoring the fact that his actions had paved the way for every single bit of it. I was so consumed by fury that my chest heaved violently, and I screamed into the phone. “Christian, you are an absolute monster!” I grabbed a glass from the coffee table and shattered it on the floor just as the front door opened. “Laura, what happened!” Christian rushed over, his eyes widening as he saw the blood dripping from my cut hand. He looked genuinely devastated. “Who did this to you? Tell me, and I will make them pay!” Looking at the concern in his eyes, my tears fell silently. Christian, how do I tell you that the monster is you? “No one,” I whispered, shaking my head. “I am just… tired.” He pulled me into his arms, gently stroking my back. He stayed by my side the entire night, terrified that something would happen to me. Even before leaving the next morning, he kept kissing my forehead and murmuring instructions. “If you feel upset, call me immediately.” “I will drop everything and come home to be with you, okay?” I knew his “work” was actually at the hospital with Amy, but I no longer cared. After he left, I opened the files my lawyer had sent. During my pregnancy, Christian had repeatedly embezzled corporate funds to secure a luxury postpartum suite, a villa, and high-end baby items for Amy. He was willing to sacrifice my career, my child, and even my mother just to make her happy. And there I was, happily rubbing my stomach, waiting for the day our family of three would be complete. I remembered how joyful he had been when we first found out I was pregnant, spinning me around the hospital lobby before making a solemn promise. “I will be the perfect father and husband. I will never let you down.” But reality had shattered that promise, leaving me with nothing but a bitter lesson. I wiped my tears, gathered my resolve, and took a taxi to the hospital. Lying on the cold operating table, I rested my hand on my stomach, feeling the faint flutter one last time. At the same moment, my lawyer submitted all the audited evidence to the police. While Christian was busy peeling fruit for Amy in her VIP suite, the door was thrown open. Before he could react, officers stepped into the room. “Christian Faerch, you are under arrest for corporate embezzlement and illegal asset transfer. Please come with us.”

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1 My real heiress sister was born with the kind of charm that turned every room into a battlefield. The Crown Prince of Manhattan threw money around for her like it was pocket change. An untouchable movie star fell from his pedestal for her. A possessive prep school golden boy once got red-eyed over her in public. And me? I was the fake heiress who had taken someone else’s place, a background extra with no presence whatsoever. At parties, Vivian was surrounded like royalty while I lurked in some dim corner, happily surviving on the scraps. She wore limited-edition couture every day. I picked through the clothes and jewelry she no longer wanted. Then one day, something went ding inside my head. The system sounded unbearably smug. [Host, I’ve punished your sister for you and stolen her halo. From now on, you’re the irresistible one. Every man will lose his mind over you.] I spat out a mouthful of bird’s nest soup and let out a shriek. “Are you insane? I’m a fake heiress living the good life on leftovers and luxury hand-me-downs. My whole plan is to let my sister step on these men and climb to the top while I sip soup behind her!” “Who told you to steal her halo?” The voice in my head preened. [Host, don’t be ungrateful.] [I’ve already punished that fake, pretentious sister of yours and taken her irresistible heroine halo.] [From now on, you, Piper Whitmore, are the only woman every man will desire.] I nearly sprayed another mouthful of premium bird’s nest. Heroine? Whoever wanted that job could have it. My life goal was to become a qualified freeloader. A graceful little parasite. A well-fed house pet with a trust fund. I wanted to cling to my real heiress sister Vivian’s thigh, watch her conquer the world, and drink one sip of the soup she left behind. “Put it back,” I ordered through gritted teeth. “Right now. Give the halo back to my sister.” [Request denied.] The system’s voice turned cold. [Halo binding complete. Maximum output activated. Please enjoy your life as the ultimate heartbreaker.] The next second, I felt as if an invisible spotlight had fallen over me. The whole world changed. Vivian was walking toward me with a glass of champagne, looking lost. Behind her, Brooks Kingsley, the Manhattan prince who had followed her for three years and treated her like something precious in his palm, did not chase after her for the first time. He did not even glance her way. His gaze moved through the crowd with terrifying precision and locked onto me. Then he walked straight toward me. My heart skipped. Don’t come over. Please don’t come over. But he did. He stopped one step away and grabbed my wrist. His palm was hot. His grip was shockingly strong. “Starting today, you’re my new date.” His tone left no room for refusal, arrogant like the world had always done what he asked. I nearly lost my soul. I tried to pull my hand back, but he held on tighter until my wrist reddened. Guests all around us threw over countless looks of curiosity, jealousy, and contempt. I became the center of the room. My parents, who had always treated me like a transparent little ornament, suddenly looked delighted in a way I had never seen before. They rushed over and practically pushed me toward Brooks. My father lowered his voice and scolded me with excited authority. “Don’t be stupid. Mr. Kingsley noticing you is a blessing.” My mother smiled so hard it looked painful. “Piper is just shy. Please don’t mind her.” I looked at their eager faces, at how badly they wanted to sell me for a good price. Then I looked past them and saw Vivian’s pale, wounded face. A nameless rage shot straight to my skull. A blessing? Then why don’t you take it? I gritted my teeth, hardened my heart, and deliberately stumbled sideways into the champagne tower beside a waiter’s tray. Crash. Golden champagne drenched Brooks from head to toe, streaming down his custom suit in a miserable glittering mess. I waited for him to explode. I waited for him to throw me out like trash. Instead, Brooks gave a low laugh. He leaned close to my ear, his hot breath brushing my skin. “Wild little temper. I like it.” Me: “?” He took off his soaked suit jacket and, ignoring my struggle, forced it over my shoulders. Then, with the posture of a man declaring ownership, he half held, half carried me away from the chaos. Wrapped in his strong scent, sharp cologne mixed with alcohol and heat, I felt the terror of that cursed halo for the first time. This was not a halo. This was a curse. Brooks forced me toward the center of the ballroom. Every step felt like walking on knives. Just then, a cool, elegant figure blocked our way. It was Nolan West, the newly crowned Best Actor. He had attended tonight as a special guest and was usually the focus of every camera. Now, his eyes held only me. “Brooks. Let her go.” Nolan’s voice was as cold as he looked. Brooks scoffed and tightened his arm around my waist. “Aren’t you overstepping, Mr. West?” Two top-tier men facing off over me. Flashbulbs went wild. I could practically see myself climbing every entertainment headline by morning. No. I had to save myself. My brain spun fast. If charm could not be stopped, then I had to make it disgusting. I took a deep breath and, under everyone’s stunned eyes, did something deeply unladylike. I lifted my pinky finger and began to pick my teeth. Then I puffed out my chest and let out a loud burp. “Buuurp.” The entire ballroom seemed to freeze for one second. Brooks and Nolan both stared. My heart leapt. It worked! So I doubled down. I bent over, pretended my foot itched, and scratched it in public. I endured the horror and humiliation with one thought blazing in my mind. Go away. Lose interest. Get lost. But in the next second, Brooks’s smile deepened. “Real. Unfiltered. Much more interesting than those fake society girls.” A trace of admiration appeared in Nolan’s cool eyes. “To stay true to yourself amid all this vanity. Like a lotus blooming from mud. Admirable.” Me: “???” Under this cursed halo, my hard work at being repulsive had somehow become a list of virtues. I was about to lose my mind. No. One last move. I ripped myself out of Brooks’s arms, rushed onto the small stage nearby, and snatched the microphone from the host. “Hello? Hello?” I cleared my throat and used the most greedy, materialistic voice I could manage. “Stop fighting!” “You want me? Easy!” “Tonight, whoever gives me the most money gets to take me home!” Surely that would work. A gold digger publicly auctioning herself off could not possibly be called pure, right? I thought this would finally let them see my true nature and avoid me like a plague. Brooks’s face did darken. Then he smiled, took out his phone, and made a transfer on the spot. Ding. A bank notification arrived on my phone. [Deposit received: $10,000,000.00] Brooks lifted his chin, arrogance filling his voice. “Ten million. Enough?” Before I could recover from the shock, Nolan threw out a contract. “A leading role in a fifty-million-dollar film. Sign now, and you’re my heroine.” The room erupted. Just as Brooks and Nolan’s bidding war grew more intense, a figure in a school uniform rushed onto the stage like a storm. It was Asher Quinn, the famously obsessive golden boy of his elite prep school. He yanked the jade pendant from his neck and shoved it into my hand. The pendant still held his body heat. Rumor said it was the only thing his late mother had left him. His eyes were red as he stared at me, his voice hoarse and frantic. “I don’t have their money. This is all I have.” “If you want it, I can give you my life too.” The whole room went completely out of control. I looked at the pendant in my hand, then at the three men below the stage who had lost their minds over me. I had failed to become a gold digger in their eyes. Instead, I had become the legendary femme fatale who made three powerful men fight over her, even to the point of offering their lives. I broke down. This life was impossible. Before I could recover, my parents dragged me off the stage, one on each side. They pulled me into an empty lounge and slammed the door shut. “Piper Whitmore! Have you lost your mind?” My father’s roar made my ears ring. I thought he was about to scold me for being greedy and shameless. But what he said next dropped me into ice water. “Asking for money in public? Couldn’t you at least make it look decent? You humiliated the entire Whitmore family!” My mother pointed at my nose, her eyes full of disappointment and anger. “We raised you for seventeen years. We gave you food, clothes, and luxury. Now it’s time for you to repay this family.” “You’d better hold on to Brooks Kingsley. He is the Whitmore family’s future security.” So they were not angry that I was greedy. They were angry I had not been greedy toward Brooks alone. They were angry I made the scene ugly and embarrassed them. Just then, the door opened and Vivian rushed in. She stepped in front of me and glared at our parents with red eyes. “Dad, Mom, how can you say that about Piper? She isn’t that kind of person!” When Mom saw Vivian, her anger burned hotter. She slapped her across the face. Smack. The crisp sound rang sharply through the quiet lounge. “You still have the nerve to talk? You couldn’t even keep a man after all the work we put into you.” Mom pointed at Vivian, then at me, her voice shrill. “Look at your sister. Learn from her.” That slap felt like it had landed on my face. It burned. I looked at the handprint swelling on Vivian’s cheek. I looked at her hurt, disbelieving tears. The last string in my mind called reason snapped. I’m not that kind of person? I should repay the family? Fine. Great. I tore free from my father’s grip and rushed out of the lounge like a wild animal. I stormed back onto the stage that had made me the center of attention and grabbed that cursed microphone again. “Everyone! Everyone!” I shouted with all my strength, pulling every eye toward me. The guests stopped talking. The three leading men all looked over at once. My parents ran after me, shouting in panic. “Piper, what are you doing now? Get down!” I looked at them and gave a bright, strange smile. Then I raised the microphone and began my self-destruction. “You’re all wondering why I’m so desperate for money, right?” “Because I’m not a Whitmore daughter at all.” “I’m the child switched at the hospital. A fraud who stole someone else’s life.” “My sister Vivian is the real Whitmore heiress.” With tears streaming down my face, I acted like an award-winning actress. “I’m jealous of her. I hate everything she has. I stole her jewelry and sold it. I deliberately spilled coffee on her couture gowns. I wanted her reputation ruined.” “Everything I did tonight was for money. To escape this suffocating family.” I confessed to “crimes” and painted myself as a vicious, greedy, ungrateful snake. I only wanted everyone to despise me. Especially those three men. The guests did erupt into whispers. My parents’ faces turned black with fury. Mom looked so shocked she swayed on her feet. But the three men were looking at me even more strangely now. Brooks’s gaze burned with possessive obsession. Nolan’s gaze overflowed with pity. Asher’s gaze held the tragic determination of someone ready to stand beside me even if I fought the whole world. They had automatically rewritten my confession into a tragic drama about a poor little flower oppressed by a wealthy family, forced to smear her own name to protect herself, making one final desperate stand. It was over. I was completely hopeless. Just as I was considering jumping off the stage and ending this whole mess, my eyes accidentally landed on the most unnoticeable corner of the ballroom. There sat the Whitmore family patriarch, who had been resting with his eyes closed since the party began, uninterested in everything. My grandfather. At some point, he had opened his eyes. He was watching me quietly. No anger. No disappointment. Instead, he gave me a meaningful look. The situation had completely spun out of control. There was no saving it. My mind went blank except for one thought. If being a “bad person” didn’t work, then I would become a sinner. A sinner so unforgivable that the Whitmores would have to throw me out. I hardened my heart and fixed my eyes on the object displayed in the center of the hall. The family treasure. An antique jade peace charm said to be worth over a hundred million. That jade was the foundation stone of the Whitmore business empire, the pride of the entire family, and the old man’s most beloved possession. Touching it wrong would earn a scolding. If I destroyed it, forget being a freeloader. I would be thrown out with sticks and never have anything to do with the Whitmores again. That was it. Before anyone could react, I jumped off the stage and ran madly toward the display. “Piper! What are you doing?” Father screamed in terror. Bodyguards tried to stop me, but Brooks, Nolan, and Asher blocked them without knowing what they were doing. They thought I was about to hurt myself. Instead, they created the perfect opening. I reached the stand and lifted the huge antique jade, which was bigger than my head. So heavy. I used all my strength and raised it high above my head under everyone’s horrified screams. Then I smashed it down onto the polished marble floor. Crash. The sound was deafening. The clear green jade shattered into pieces. The world seemed to go silent. Everyone gasped and stared at the fragments on the floor as if witnessing the end of days. My father shook with rage. He pointed at me, stammering for a long time without managing a single word. My mother’s eyes rolled back, and she fainted into a servant’s arms. I looked at the broken jade and felt a fierce, vengeful thrill. It was over. This had to be over. I had succeeded. I thought what awaited me would be my father’s slap and the fate of being kicked out. Instead, Brooks stepped forward and shielded me behind him. He looked at my trembling father with icy eyes and an arrogant voice. “So it broke. Name the price. The Kingsleys will pay.” “But today, anyone who touches a single hair on her head goes against my family.” Nolan and Asher also stepped forward at the same time, standing on either side of me. Together with Brooks, they formed a wall around me. Nolan said, “I’ll take responsibility for this.” Asher was even more direct. “Anyone who insults her will answer to me.” I went numb. So even destroying the Whitmore family’s most precious object could not free me from this cursed halo. What else could I do? What was left? At that tense moment, an aged but powerful voice rang through the ballroom. “Everyone, get out.” It was Grandfather. Holding his dragon-headed cane and supported by the butler, he slowly stood. He did not even glance at the shattered jade. His cloudy but sharp eyes passed over everyone and landed directly on me. “You. Stay.”

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1 I was rich, single, and very much enjoying it. To pass the time, I kept a poor but ridiculously pretty little songbird. The girl had a face, a body, and enough sweetness to make men stupid. The only flaw was that she was painfully shy. She insisted on playing some innocent romance game with me. I was not allowed to touch her. I was not allowed to visit her at school. Everything had to happen “properly.” I understood. She was young. Then one day, I went to her university to discuss funding a new lab. Her professor pointed from a distance at her and another guy, smiling proudly as he said they were his best students, the lab’s famous golden couple. I laughed. So it wasn’t that she was young and shy. She was afraid the boat would tip. Fine. I could change birds. After all, her senior looked much prettier than her. … I truly hadn’t seen this coming. The little songbird I had paid a fortune to keep called me “honey” so sweetly in private. Behind my back, not only did she have a boyfriend, she told people I was her obsessive, mentally unstable distant cousin. I hissed through my teeth. I had spent my whole life hunting hawks. Who knew one day I’d get pecked in the eye by one? The student showing me around the lab leaned closer with concern. “Mr. Whitaker, are you okay?” I shook my head. “I’m fine. I’m mentally unstable.” The student laughed awkwardly. Seeing my eyes still fixed on Nora Lee in the distance, he added a few more words. “Mr. Whitaker, Nora is pretty capable professionally. If not for her cousin, she might already be overseas for further study.” I lifted an eyebrow without showing much. “Oh? How so?” “Nora has this cursed cousin. The kind who supposedly brings bad luck to the whole family. Even his wife died. But Nora still cares about family, so she keeps in touch with him.” “During her video interview that day, he suddenly had an episode and demanded she come to him or he’d hurt himself. Nora had no choice and missed the interview.” I froze. Then I gave a cold laugh. I remembered that. At the time, Nora had told me she did not want to go abroad. I spent days trying to persuade her. She curled up in my arms, all pitiful and soft. “Honey, I don’t want to leave you.” My heart had softened. I thought girls these days were so clingy. When I still refused to give in, she turned away in a huff and asked if I no longer liked her, if I was trying to send her away. In the end, I spent several hundred thousand to cheer her up, bought her a car, and took her through a round of luxury boutiques. Now it seemed she was exactly like my late wife, whose portrait already hung on the wall. Not being able to leave me was fake. Using me, then making me carry the blame for things she did not want to do, was real. After leaving the lab building, I texted Nora. “Find time to move all your things out.” A paid arrangement was one thing. But she had turned it into some ugly little drama where I was forcing an innocent girl and she was hiding an entire second life. I did not need her that badly. I had just seen another girl who looked much better than her. Nora replied quickly. First confusion. Then panic. “Honey, what happened?” “Whatever it is, talk to me properly, okay?” “You promised you wouldn’t abandon me so easily.” I scoffed. When I started keeping her, I had indeed promised not to end things casually. But she never told me she was doing this behind her boyfriend’s back. No professional ethics as a kept woman. I put my phone away and wandered around campus alone. It was my first time at this university. I had always wanted to come. I had told Nora I wanted to see where she studied. But she had held my hand pitifully and said she was afraid people at school would gossip. So, at her request, I never came to find her. Even when I picked her up, I parked at the closest intersection outside campus. I thought she wanted to keep a low profile. Turns out she wanted to hide the fact that she was playing both sides. My phone kept buzzing nonstop. I had no interest in checking it. My eyes landed on a girl sitting on the edge of a flower bed not far away. I remembered her from the group that had shown me around earlier. She had disappeared after one glance. Meeting her again now? That was fate being very considerate. “Excuse me. Would you show me around campus?” 2 I vaguely remembered she was Nora’s senior. Clearly, she remembered me too. “Mr. Whitaker.” I raised an eyebrow. Everyone today had called me “Mr. Whitaker” in the business way, with a title and a bow in their tone. She said it like I was just a man. My gaze moved slowly from the red at the corners of her eyes to her soft lips. She seemed uneasy under my stare and coughed lightly. I smiled and sat beside her as if we were already familiar. “Are you sick?” She hummed softly. “A bit of a cold and fever. The professor told me to leave early.” Just enough concern entered my eyes. “How did that happen? Did you take medicine? Should I buy some now?” As I moved to stand, my sleeve was lightly tugged. Then released. She lifted her eyes and gave me a calm look. That look went straight to the exact place in my chest it had no business touching. I sat back down smoothly. “Mr. Whitaker, I’ve actually seen you before.” I quickly searched my memory for her face. Impossible. A face like hers would have left an impression. The girl smiled. “But you haven’t seen me.” “Last winter, I worked part-time at the North Ridge ski resort.” My eyes shifted. Last winter, Nora had told me pitifully that she had never gone skiing. I bought flights and booked a hotel that very night, taking her to North Ridge. So this girl had seen me with Nora? “I saw you teaching Nora how to ski. Later, I asked her who you were. She said you were her cousin.” “So, Mr. Whitaker, is your investment in the lab also for Nora?” I gave a cold laugh. Originally, yes. Nora had always complained to me that her advisor favored her senior. But now, I had changed my mind. I adjusted the glasses on my nose. When I lowered my hand, my fingers brushed hers as if by accident. That slender hand moved slightly. It did not pull away. I smiled and sat a little closer. “If you want, I can do it for you instead.” She turned her head and looked at me with amber eyes, unblinking. I paused for a moment, then slowly leaned in. She did not dodge. I tightened my hold on her hand. Still, she did not dodge. So I smiled and kissed the corner of her mouth. She remained quietly still, almost like an offering, except the red at the corners of her eyes deepened. I drew back a little, touched her trembling lashes with my fingertips, and smiled. “Let’s exchange numbers.” “I’ll wait for you to contact me.” Just as I finished speaking, hurried footsteps approached. By reflex, I pulled my hand away from hers. Though I might have imagined it, that hand seemed to hold my fingertips for the briefest instant, as if asking me to stay. “Honey, why are you here?” Nora looked at me strangely, then nervously at the girl beside me. “Senior, why are you here too?” I glanced at Nora’s pale, anxious face and deliberately said, “I had business here.” “You should’ve seen my message. Move your things out as soon as…” “Honey!” Nora loudly cut me off. She glanced at her senior and kept signaling at me with her eyes. “I’m sorry. I know I made you mad. Can we talk about it when we get back?” I frowned. Had I spoiled her so much that she had forgotten what my temper was really like? I was about to expose everything directly when the person beside me spoke softly. “Nora, he’s your cousin?” Nora inhaled and nodded quickly. “Yes, Senior. This is the cousin I always told you about, the one who treats me very well.” After saying that, she threw me a look as if asking for praise. I gave a cold laugh. If I had not known she described me at school as her obsessive, unstable distant cousin, I might have believed her. Just like I had believed the travel photos with me that she occasionally posted. But I did not refute her. Because I felt a cool finger lightly hook around my pinky at my side. The fire in my chest was doused like someone had poured ice water over it. It vanished instantly. I lifted an eyebrow and smiled in a much better mood. Nora thought she had fooled me and visibly relaxed. She said to the person still hooking my finger, “Senior, the professor is looking for you. You should go.” The woman beside me hummed and let go. But as she left, she looked at me and said softly, “Mr. Whitaker, my name is Iris Bell.” Iris Bell. I rolled the name over my tongue and rubbed my pinky with my thumb. Nora’s unhappy voice sounded beside me. “Honey!” I withdrew my gaze expressionlessly. She pouted, aggrieved. “Senior has a boyfriend. Don’t even think about it.” I laughed and glanced at her flushed face. “Oh? Then do you have a little boyfriend at school?” Nora’s eyes changed instantly. She frowned at me with suspicion. “Did Senior say something to you?” “Honey, don’t believe her.” “If I had a boyfriend, would I post so much about you online?” I waved my hand impatiently, about to speak. Her eyes reddened, and she attacked first. “Honey, is it because Senior is prettier than me that you told me to move everything out?” “I was wrong about you.” With that, she clutched her phone, glared at me, and ran off. I stood there watching her back, stunned. Then I laughed from anger. But I did not stay angry long. The moment I got into the car, I received two messages. One was from Nora. “Honey, I’m really angry this time. You’d better think about how to make it up to me.” Expressionless, I deleted her. The other was a friend request. “Mr. Whitaker, I’m Iris Bell.” My fingers tapped lightly on the steering wheel. Then I accepted. 3 Iris messaged quickly. “Mr. Whitaker, I’m different from Nora. I’m currently single.” I chuckled and answered with a question. “How did you get my contact information?” “I asked my advisor.” I rubbed my chin and typed. “My cat can do backflips. Would you like to come watch?” There was no reply for a long time. Just as I thought I had scared her off, one simple word appeared. “Okay.” I smiled, locked my phone, and drove off campus. Since someone new was coming, the old one needed to be cleaned out. I told my assistant to pack up everything related to Nora in my home and send it all to her school. Nora reacted fast, calling me from different numbers. She even started acting tragic. I handed a glass of juice to Iris, who stood by the floor-to-ceiling window. She accepted it and kept looking down. “Mr. Whitaker, Nora is standing downstairs in the rain.” “Is that really okay?” I did not look down once. Instead, my gaze kept circling the low collar of Iris’s T-shirt. “Should I let her come up, then?” Iris finally moved her eyes away from downstairs and looked back at me. I smiled, leaned closer, and reached behind her ear to pull the sheer curtain shut. “I’m only her obsessive distant cousin. I can’t control her.” Iris’s eyes trembled. She stood perfectly still as I kept moving closer. The instant before I kissed her, I turned my head and leaned to her ear. “Iris, the day I took Nora skiing, you saw me kiss her, didn’t you?” Just as I wanted, I heard her breath catch. Her warm breathing brushed constantly against my neck. I smiled. Over the past few days, I had repeatedly recalled the ski resort and finally dug out the faintest memory of Iris. In that memory, she wore a face covering and stood behind a tree, watching Nora and me from far away for a long time. Iris’s restrained voice sounded. “Mr. Whitaker, Nora isn’t right for you. She has a boyfriend, and she doesn’t like you.” I rested my chin lightly on her shoulder and smiled without answering. A hot little hand slowly settled on my waist. Iris’s voice grew hoarser. “I’m prettier than her. I’m better in the lab than her. Most importantly, I’ve never dated anyone. I can be completely loyal to you.” I laughed under my breath and wrapped an arm around her waist. Looking at her flushed face, I said softly, “All right. Let’s try.” And once we tried, we lost track of the world. Iris was smarter than Nora. She knew exactly what she wanted and learned quickly. Especially when that cool, elegant face showed shy restraint, it made a man’s heart itch. Outside, wind and rain raged. Inside, the air was warm and heated. When the doorbell rang, Iris was lazy in my arms, still catching her breath. Nora’s voice came faintly from the door, calling for me. Iris gave a short laugh. Her tongue shaped two soft words. “Honey.” That hoarse, warm voice softened my ears. I covered her trembling lashes with my hand and lowered my head to kiss her. Neither of us had any mind left for Nora at the door. The next morning, I walked out of the bedroom feeling refreshed. My phone was full of messages from unknown numbers. “Honey, do you really not want me anymore?” “Do you remember what you said when we first got together?” “You said even if we broke up, we’d end it peacefully and you’d arrange everything for me.” “But I stood in the rain all day yesterday, and you didn’t even come see me. Honey, you’re so cruel.” I drank some water and smiled mockingly. So that entire tragic performance was a reminder to pay her breakup fee. But why should I? As a sponsor, I had not only been cheated on, but my little bird had also described me outside as her obsessive older cousin. I had not even charged her emotional damages. A warm body hugged me from behind. Iris’s voice was almost too hoarse. “Honey, unhappy so early in the morning?” I relaxed into her arms and played with her fingers. “In a few days, I’m going to sign the lab agreement. You’ll be there, right?” Iris laughed softly. “Yes. The professor values this investment so much that he arranged a signing event. All his students will attend.” I understood. That meant Nora and her little boyfriend would be there too. I was very curious what expression she would make when she saw me, her obsessive cousin. The professor clearly valued this investment more than I had imagined. He not only applied to use the university’s small auditorium, but also invited reporters. I listened as he eagerly introduced his project. At the end, he introduced Iris beside him with emotion. “Mr. Whitaker, this is my proudest student. She missed your last visit because she was sick. I believe she apologized to you afterward?” Iris extended a hand with a perfectly serious face. “Mr. Whitaker, hello.” I looked at Iris and smiled. When I shook her hand, I scratched her palm lightly. Her face gave nothing away. But red spread from her ears down her neck. The professor led me into the venue while introducing his other students. Then I saw a familiar figure. The professor’s voice rang out. “Nora, Tyler.” “Let me introduce you to our investor.” That figure slowly turned around. I smiled at her with leisurely interest. Then I watched the bright smile on her face collapse inch by inch. At last, it became terror. My smile grew wider. The professor noticed something was wrong with Nora, and his tone grew hesitant. “…Nora, do you know Mr. Whitaker?” Nora looked at the professor in panic, guilt written all over her face. I watched her stammer for a long time without managing a sentence. Kindly, I helped her out. “Yes, Professor. I’m…”

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The day my ice-cold fiancée Victoria Hastings ruined her own reputation, I was lounging in the backyard of my Hudson River estate, smoking a perfectly marbled brisket. The savory scent of cracked black pepper and hickory wood had just filled the courtyard when my phone went absolutely nuclear. The vibration was so violent it rattled the table and shattered my eight-thousand-dollar Baccarat crystal tumbler. My boy Jaxon sent fifty voice notes in a row. His throat sounded completely blown out. “Alex!!! Check the trending page!!!” “Massive drama!!! Your girl Victoria!!!” “Live broadcast!! Turn on that dating show right now!! She’s doing you dirty on national TV!!!” A spark from the burning charcoal snapped, nearly singeing my eyebrow. I let out a dark chuckle. Victoria? Humiliating me? That was more absurd than pigs growing wings and winning the Kentucky Derby. Who was Victoria Hastings? Manhattan’s ultimate socialite. The billionaire ice-queen CEO. The internet’s undisputed dream wife who never gave men the time of day. She couldn’t possibly face a scandal. Her entire pristine image was built on an impenetrable mountain of cold, hard cash. Carrying a heavy, murderous aura of who the hell dares to mess with my girl, I tapped into the live stream. The screen instantly loaded. It was a heavily hyped, supposedly unscripted extreme survival dating show. Right at that moment, Victoria was blushing deeply, participating in a game of Truth or Dare. Her dare: Call the man who makes your heart beat the fastest and ask to borrow a hundred million dollars. 1 Live viewer count: thirty-seven million. The comment section was scrolling so fast it looked like a locust swarm, completely obscuring the faces on the screen. I pinched the screen to zoom in. Victoria sat by a crackling bonfire, wearing a cream-colored knit sweater. Her hair was tied up loosely, exposing the elegant curve of her neck. The warm firelight danced across her face, melting away half of her signature icy facade. Next to her sat a man. Early twenties, sharp jawline, piercing eyes, and a charming little mole near the corner of his mouth when he smiled. He wore a custom casual suit, sleeves rolled up twice to show off a limited-edition luxury watch. Nate Alexander. A top-tier pop idol who debuted from a hit reality show. Half the women in America went to sleep dreaming of putting a ring on his finger. He was tilting his head, smiling at Victoria. I knew that exact smile. It was the grin of a predator who had fully cornered his prey and knew she couldn’t escape. The host, Ryan, held up his microphone, dragging out his words to maximize the tension. “Tori, you know the rules. Truth or dare, and you picked dare.” “Now, please call the man who makes your heart race the most, and ask him for a hundred million dollars.” “Remember, it has to be the one who makes your heart race.” The live chat instantly exploded. “The one who makes her heart race! Doesn’t that mean her fiancé?” “Who even is Alex? Has the internet investigated him yet?” “Nothing to find. Rumor has it he’s just an absolute nobody, a corporate arrangement set up by the Hastings family.” “There’s no way she actually calls her fiancé, right? In front of the whole country?” Victoria looked down, twirling a strand of hair around her finger. She bit her lower lip, released it, and bit it again. Her gaze drifted toward Nate. Just for a second. Then she pulled it back. Nate chuckled softly. He reached out and gently tucked a stray hair behind her ear. Victoria’s shoulders shrank back the slightest bit, but she didn’t pull away. Thirty-seven million people watched that exact motion. Ryan instantly threw gasoline on the fire. “Tori, could it be that your ultimate crush is sitting right here with us?” Victoria took a deep breath and picked up her phone. The screen lit up. She scrolled to a single contact name. Alex. Just my name. No emojis, no profile picture, no special tags. I stared at the screen. The heavy scent of hickory smoke still lingered in my throat. Sizzling fat dripped onto the hot coals, and a bead of boiling grease popped, searing the back of my hand. I didn’t flinch. She pressed call. The phone in my pocket began to vibrate. 2 It rang exactly three times. I picked up. “Yeah.” My voice was blasted through the studio’s loudspeakers, echoing out to thirty-seven million listeners. Victoria pulled the phone slightly away from her face and put it on speaker. Ryan leaned in, his face glowing with pure gossip. “The mysterious fiancé! Ladies and gentlemen, this is the very first time the internet gets to hear his voice!” The chat went feral. “Okay but his voice is deep as hell.” “Who cares? A nice voice doesn’t pay the bills.” “The ultimate placeholder husband has logged on lmaooo.” Victoria cleared her throat. Her tone went completely flat, like she was reading the terms and conditions of a legal contract. “Alex. I’m filming a show right now. There’s a game segment where I need to borrow a hundred million. Can you figure something out?” Figure something out. Four words. Not do you have it. It was can you figure something out. Every single person watching caught the underlying message. He doesn’t have a hundred million dollars, but he needs to go scrape it together for her. Ryan laughed and pushed the knife deeper. “Tori, is this the man who makes your heart race?” A suffocating silence blanketed the set for one solid second. Victoria didn’t look at the camera. Her voice was ice-cold. “He is my fiancé. It was an arrangement made by the families.” She didn’t say yes. She didn’t say no. But everyone heard the real answer loud and clear. No. She quickly added, “A hundred million is definitely a bit out of his reach, but this is just a game anyway.” The comments flooded in like a broken dam. “Deadass crying right now. She has to call her crush for 100M, and she calls her broke fiancé who can’t even afford it.” “Did you see the way she looked at Nate? The chemistry is insane.” “Did she get this fiancé out of a cereal box?” “Girls, her heart is beating for the pop star, but she’s calling the hubby for cash. Iconic.” Nate sat beside her, smiling effortlessly. He picked up his wine glass and took a slow sip, completely relaxed. The dark red liquid caught the firelight, reflecting a fleeting flash of absolute triumph in his eyes. I stared at the screen of my phone. Thirty-seven million people were waiting for me to break. “Alright,” I said. “A hundred million, right? You got it.” I didn’t raise my voice. It was dead calm. The entire studio froze. Victoria froze. Ryan’s mouth hung open, his exaggerated expression completely glitching out. The chat took a full two seconds to process what just happened. “??? You got it? Just like that?” “The absolute flex. Man is dropping 100M like it’s pocket change.” “Capping so hard right now.” “Wake up buddy, it’s a hundred million, not a hundred bucks.” I ignored the internet’s meltdown. “Victoria Hastings,” I used her full name, pronouncing every single syllable with surgical precision. “When this broadcast is over, we need to talk.” Then I hung up. Call duration: forty-seven seconds. Victoria remained frozen, her phone screen already black, still holding it up to her ear. Nate let out a mocking snort. He tilted his head, swirling his wine. “Your fiancé is quite the character. Talks a really big game.” Ryan scrambled to save the segment. “Talk about tension! Well, viewers, whether or not that hundred million actually hits the bank account, we’ll just have to wait and see!” The comments detonated again. “I bet my life savings this Alex guy can’t even wire a thousand bucks.” “The most pathetic fiancé on the internet, confirmed.” “Tori needs to drop him and get with Nate right now!” I locked my phone and tossed it aside. The prime cut of meat on the grill had completely charred, sending up thick plumes of black smoke that stung my eyes. I picked up my secondary phone and pulled up a number with no name attached. Just a string of digits. Three years. I had lived in this city for three years and never dialed this number once. Today was the first time. I hit the button. It rang exactly once before it connected. “Young Master.” The voice was old, profoundly respectful, and trembling with a hint of shock. “Arthur,” I grabbed the blackened meat with tongs and dumped it into the trash, brushing the ash off my hands. “The Hastings Group. Every single line of funding connected to the Pierce family. Cut it.” “Credit lines, loan guarantees, venture investments, acquisition funds. Leave absolutely nothing.” “Right now. Immediately.” The other end of the line went dead silent for two seconds. “Young Master, if we execute that order, the Hastings Group will suffer a total cash flow collapse within forty-eight hours. Seventy-three percent of their liquid capital runs straight through the Pierce Capital pipelines.” “I know.” “Your grandfather and old Mr. Hastings were close friends for thirty years…” “Arthur,” I cut him off. “She stood in front of thirty-seven million people and called me a corporate arrangement.” The line fell silent again. Three seconds later, Arthur’s voice dropped, sharp and decisive like a blade sliding out of its sheath. “Understood. It will be fully executed within twenty minutes.” I hung up, walking over to the edge of the patio and gripping the iron railing. The biting wind sweeping off the Hudson blew away the last traces of hickory smoke. Across the water, the Manhattan skyline glowed brilliantly, twisting into the dark clouds like a serpent scaled in diamonds. Beneath that ocean of lights stood seven massive skyscrapers, twelve commercial hubs, and three entire financial blocks. Every single one of them had the name Pierce attached to the deed. Victoria truly believed her family was worth ten billion dollars. What she didn’t know was that out of that ten billion, seven point three billion was entirely propped up by Pierce money. She actually thought this marriage was just an “arrangement made by the families.” She was right about the arrangement. But it wasn’t the Hastings family calling the shots. It was my grandfather taking pity on her grandfather, throwing the Hastings family a lifeline to save them from ruin. There was only one condition attached to that lifeline: The Hastings’ granddaughter had to marry the Pierce’s grandson. Three years. I had stayed quietly in this waterfront estate. I didn’t get involved in the Pierce empire’s business, I never threw my family’s name around, and I never swiped the black card sitting in my drawer that had no spending limit. I did it all just to wait for Victoria to figure out her own feelings and come to me willingly. Well, she figured it out alright. She figured out she wanted to go on a dating show, blush at a boyband pretty boy, and tell the entire country I was nothing but a forced obligation. Fine. Then don’t blame me for tearing down the facade. 3 At 1:17 AM, Marcus, the Chief Financial Officer of the Hastings Group, was jolted awake by his phone. He glanced at the screen. It was an automated red-alert from the company’s internal risk management system. He answered, and a robotic AI voice began to list the casualties: “Critical Alert: Master account anomaly. Pierce Capital guarantee limit reduced to zero. Repeating: Pierce Capital guarantee limit reduced to zero. Associated credit contracts have triggered mandatory liquidation clauses. Immediate action required.” Marcus’s exhaustion vanished instantly. He threw off the blankets, flipped open his laptop, and hammered his password into the system. On the screen, lines of financial data were rapidly turning blood-red. Pierce Capital has withdrawn all joint letters of guarantee. Pierce Capital has terminated investment agreements (Codes PC-2024-0731 through PC-2025-0214, total of forty-seven contracts). Pierce Capital has frozen all Hastings Group corporate accounts operating through Pierce National Bank. Marcus’s fingers started to violently shake. He grabbed his phone and dialed a number. “Mr. Hastings! Sir! We have a catastrophic situation!” Richard Hastings’s voice groaned through the speaker, groggy and deeply irritated at being woken up. “It’s the middle of the night, Marcus. What the hell is it?” “Pierce Capital… they pulled everything! All guarantees, all credit lines, all investment capital. It’s completely severed!” The line went dead silent for five agonizing seconds. When Richard finally spoke, his voice sounded like someone was strangling him. “Say that to me one more time.” “Pierce Capital pulled out. Our master accounts are frozen. If we don’t secure alternative funding within forty-eight hours, our corporate cash flow snaps. Every single construction project halts. Mr. Hastings, we are dead in the water.” Richard hung up the phone. He sat on the edge of his mattress, clicking on the bedside lamp. The color drained from his face piece by piece until he looked like a corpse. Next to him, his wife Eleanor woke up, rubbing her eyes. “Who’s calling you at this hour…?” Richard didn’t answer. He frantically scrolled through his contacts, found the executive liaison for Pierce Capital, and hit dial. The number you have dialed is powered off. He called the Pierce Capital headquarters front desk. “We apologize, but Pierce Capital’s corporate relationship with Hastings Group has been officially terminated. For all future inquiries, please contact our legal department.” He made seventeen phone calls. Every single one gave him the exact same answer. Richard’s phone slipped out of his sweaty palm and slammed against the marble floor, a jagged crack splitting the screen. He stared blankly at the ceiling, his pupils dilating in pure terror. Pierce Capital. Pierce. Alex… Pierce. No. Impossible. That kid who spent his days lounging in a riverfront house, playing with his dogs and smoking meat on the grill? How could he possibly be tied to the apex predators of Pierce Capital? He was just a distant, broke relative of the Pierce family. Old Mr. Pierce had forced this marriage out of a misguided sense of charity. That was what Richard had always believed. For three whole years, that was the absolute truth in his mind. 4 I woke up the next morning feeling completely refreshed. My phone had over four hundred unread messages. Three hundred of them were just from Jaxon. I casually scrolled through the trending page. #VictoriaHastingsDatingShowDrama – 1.2 billion views. #WhoIsVictoriaFiance – 800 million views. #DidAlexSendThe100Million – 500 million views. I clicked into the threads. The comment sections were a unified wall of mockery. “It’s been twelve hours. Where’s the hundred mil? Did the bank pigeon get lost?” “Tori needs to cancel this engagement immediately. Why keep a broke loser who lies to save face?” “Nate and Tori are the endgame. This Alex guy is just a speedbump.” “Lmaooo the ultimate placeholder gets publicly cucked and says ‘you got it’. Got what? Got ghosted?” I put the phone down, brushed my teeth, boiled some water, and brewed a cup of black tea. Jaxon called. “Bro, are you okay?! The entire internet is dragging you through the mud! Did you look at Twitter?!” “I saw.” “Why aren’t you losing your mind?! Your girl is basically flirting with another dude on live television, and you hit them with a ‘you got it’?! Got what?! Do you even have a hundred million dollars?!” “I do.” “…How much do you actually have?” “A little more than a hundred million.” Jaxon went totally silent for ten seconds. “Alex, the heartbreak didn’t actually fry your brain, did it?” I didn’t answer, because another call was actively beeping through. Caller ID: Nate Alexander. I narrowed my eyes. I had never saved his number. How did he get mine? The answer was painfully obvious. Victoria gave it to him. I picked up. “Alex, right?” The voice on the other end carried a lazy, arrogant smirk. He spoke with the casual disrespect of someone looking down from a throne. “Did you catch the broadcast last night?” “I did.” “Then you should know that Tori is having a really great time on this show.” He intentionally called her Tori. Not Victoria. Not your fiancée. Tori. Like it was a pet name he had used a thousand times in private. “Did you really track down my number just to tell me that?” “No, I called because I wanted to give you a piece of advice.” Nate lowered his voice, acting like he was doing me a favor. “Bro, cancel the engagement. You’re out of her league. Don’t stress over the hundred million thing, I’ll cover it for her.” My fingers tightened around my teacup. The fine porcelain let out a faint, microscopic creak. “You’ll cover it?” “Yeah. It’s a hundred million. Pocket change. If you’re worried about looking bad on the internet, I can have my manager spin the narrative and say the money actually came from you. How about that? I’m giving you a way out.” The dark tea rippled in the cup, tiny waves crashing against the rim. “Nate,” I slowly placed the cup down on the marble counter. “Do you have any idea how Victoria’s ten-billion-dollar net worth actually exists?” The other end laughed. “Obviously. The Hastings Group. A top-ten corporation in New York.” “Then do you know where the Hastings Group gets its money?” Nate paused. For the very first time, a microscopic sliver of uncertainty bled into his voice. “What are you talking about?” “Nothing. I got your advice.” I hung up the phone. Finished my tea in one gulp. And opened my closet. Pushed all the way to the back was a custom-tailored, pitch-black suit. I hadn’t worn it in three years. On the inside of the collar, embedded into a dark metal button, was a flawlessly engraved letter: P. Today was the day I put it back on.

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