Author: Momo Chan

My dog destroyed his bed, so I hunted down a second hand crib on a local marketplace app. It was solid mahogany. You could tell just by looking at the rich wood grain that it was worth a small fortune. Yet, the original owner sold it to me for pennies. I had scored the deal of the century, and I spent days practically humming with joy. That was until I was scrolling through a local community forum and stumbled upon a highly discussed thread. “My six year old son was just diagnosed with a severe congenital illness. The doctors say there is no medical cure. Is there any alternative way to save him?” The comments were a sea of sympathy, offering prayers, diet changes, and specialist recommendations. It was a perfectly wholesome thread. Then my eyes caught the single comment the original poster had pinned and liked. “You just need to swap his fate with a child of the exact same age. Take the item your child has used the most, attach his full name and birthdate, and pass it on to another family’s child.” My fingers hovered over the keyboard. I was about to leave a scathing reply calling out the charlatan, but I noticed the desperate mother had already replied. “Master, my son’s absolute favorite place in the world is his little wooden crib. Would it work if I sold it to a stranger?” Attached to her reply was a picture of a solid mahogany crib. My blood ran cold. It was the exact same crib sitting in my living room. It even had the identical faint scratch on the left railing. There was just one tiny detail the seller had not accounted for. My precious baby is a golden retriever mix. 1 I stared at the pristine mahogany crib, running my fingers over the distinct scratch on the wood, and sank into deep thought. A few days ago, my rambunctious rescue dog, Buster, had completely shredded his plush dog bed. My immediate thought was that no matter how tight money got, my boy deserved the best. However, my overflowing maternal instincts hit a brick wall when I saw the outrageous prices for orthopedic pet beds online. Defeated, I turned to the local second hand app. After hours of relentless scrolling and haggling, my efforts paid off. I found the perfect, sturdy crib for an unbelievably low price. The seller had been overly accommodating. Seeing that I did not have a truck, she cheerfully offered to deliver it right to my doorstep. I had been so smug about my luck, bragging to my friends about my bargaining skills. They had warned me that deals that seemed too good to be true usually came with a catch. I had brushed them off. I never expected the catch to be a dark occult curse. But really, my child was a dog. A chaotic, hyperactive furball who had once chased three grown men and five neighborhood cats up a fence in a single afternoon. Buster was a menace, and keeping him fed and happy was already a badge of honor for me. Could a dark fate swapping ritual even cross species lines? I opened my phone and typed out an earnest reply to the delusional mother. “We live in a modern society. Who actually believes in this superstitious nonsense? Please do not get scammed by fake gurus!” “Your child’s health should be left to medical professionals. Early intervention is key.” “Besides, if you actually believe you are swapping fates, have you thought about the innocent child you are cursing?” It did not take long for my phone to ping with her response. “A parent’s love requires doing whatever it takes. While he is young, I have to cure him quickly so he does not grow up as an outcast.” “My Toby is destined to do great things. Whoever gets to swap fates with my precious boy should be counting their lucky stars. They should just accept the blessing and stop being ungrateful.” I typed out a furious retort, but a pop up informed me I had been blocked by the author. I scoffed. That was fine. If there was one thing a chronically online millennial had in abundance, it was burner accounts. 2 “Woof!” I looked down. Buster was awake. He sat at my feet, his big brown eyes staring up at me with such absolute devotion it made my heart melt into a puddle. Looking at that sweet face, I could almost forgive his daily acts of domestic terrorism. Buster was a street rescue. A few years ago, I had been laid off from a corporate job with zero severance. Frustrated and miserable, I had gone to a dive bar to drink my sorrows away. On my way home, I saw him in a dirty alleyway. He was fighting off three stray dogs twice his size over a miserable, dried up bone. The gash on his hind leg was so deep the bone practically gleamed under the streetlights, yet his tiny chest puffed out with the heart of a lion. He held his ground. He protected his prize. Something inside me broke. I thought he was the bravest thing I had ever seen. Fueled by liquid courage and ignoring the risk of rabies, I scooped him up and rushed him to the emergency vet. By the time the vet finished patching him up, I was stone cold sober. The itemized bill the receptionist handed me was longer than my final paycheck. I was silently cursing the extortionate medical system when I glanced down and saw Buster looking at me. His eyes were damp and trusting. I mentally slapped myself. How could I even hesitate over paper money when this little warrior had fought so hard just to live? I handed over my credit card without another word, completely missing the fact that the anesthesia had finally kicked in and he was snoring loudly. From that night on, Buster was officially mine. I spent the next two days monitoring the forum post. The mother finally posted an update. “The crib has been sold. What is the next step?” She attached a heavily censored screenshot of our transaction history. The comment section immediately erupted. “I would sooner believe I can shove my big toe into my ear than believe this guy can rewrite destiny.” “Is the original poster for real? People still fall for this?” “Honestly, I am morbidly curious now. Where is this Master? Tell us the next step!” “I don’t even know what to say. I understand a mother’s desperation, but how could you intentionally harm someone else’s baby?” The author was frantically deleting any comment that criticized her. She only left the ones begging the Master to reveal the next phase. I wanted to see what this charlatan would say next. Soon enough, a new comment was pinned to the top. “To successfully swap fates, both parties must exchange personal items. The target has your crib. Now, you must acquire items the target child uses daily. Attach your son’s name and birthdate to them, and keep them close for forty nine days. This completes the spiritual bridge. After that, the transfer will begin.” I could not help but roll my eyes. How could anyone be gullible enough to believe this garbage? I felt like an idiot for even keeping up with the drama. I locked my phone and grabbed Buster’s leash, ready for our evening walk. Just as my hand touched the doorknob, my phone buzzed. I pulled it out and stared at the screen in sheer disbelief. It was a direct message from the crib seller. 3 “Hey honey! Do you need any baby clothes? I bought so many brand new outfits, but my Toby is growing like a weed and cannot fit into them anymore. I would love to bring them over for you.” “Do not even worry about the cost. It would be a waste to just throw them out.” “Are you home right now? I can drop them off.” My brain was still processing the sheer audacity, but my fingers were already typing a polite rejection. “Oh, thank you so much for the offer, but please don’t trouble yourself! Our little one is quite particular and probably wouldn’t fit into them.” To my horror, she replied instantly. “Open up, honey. We are already at your door.” I wanted to pretend I wasn’t home, but the obnoxiously loud notification chime from my phone echoed straight through the thin apartment door. Trapped, I took a deep breath and turned the deadbolt. Standing in my hallway was Martha, the seller, and clinging to her hand was her son, Toby. He was a pale, chubby kid who immediately started peering past my legs into the apartment. I still felt a pang of pity for the boy. I figured I could sit the mother down, offer her a drink, and gently suggest she seek proper medical and psychological help instead of relying on internet warlocks. I plastered on a welcoming smile and stepped aside. “Come on in. Why don’t you and Toby take a seat on the couch? I will go cut up some fresh fruit.” I had just bought a fancy bottle of organic fruit juice that kids usually loved. I figured it would be a nice icebreaker. I stood in the kitchen, mentally rehearsing how to breach the topic of modern medicine. But when I walked back into the living room holding a tray of snacks, it was completely empty. A chilling rustling sound echoed from down the hall. I dropped the tray on the coffee table and marched toward my bedroom, pushing the door open in disbelief. In the span of five minutes, my sanctuary had been destroyed. A thick smear of crimson lipstick was dragged across my pristine white walls. My expensive silk bedsheets were stamped with tiny, foundation covered handprints. Even the brass handles of my nightstands were caked with sticky beige liquid. I clenched my fists so hard my nails dug into my palms. The blood rushed to my ears, leaving a high pitched ringing in its wake. “What are you doing?!” Hearing my raised voice, Martha jolted up from the edge of the bed. Acting as if she had just noticed the carnage, she grabbed Toby by the arm and gave him two incredibly gentle, theatrical pats on the back. She turned to me, squeezing out a painfully fake smile. “Oh, I am so sorry, honey! I took my eyes off him for one second. You know how boys are. He is just a child, you cannot possibly hold a grudge against a little kid.” I watched her perform in absolute silence. Slowly, I pulled out my phone and pulled up my digital receipts for the ruined cosmetics. When I held the screen up to her face, the fake smile instantly evaporated. The total was not small. “Listen to me, honey,” she said, her tone suddenly shifting from apologetic to patronizing. “You are a married woman and a mother now. You should not be wasting your money on useless vanity items.” She bent down, picked up a shattered bottle of luxury serum from the floor, and brazenly wiped the remaining drops of the expensive liquid onto her own face. She rubbed it into her cheeks with a satisfied sigh. “I am older and wiser than you. If you have this kind of money, you should be buying your husband nice suits or getting educational toys for your baby! A man is the pillar of the household. If you don’t spend money on him, what kind of wife are you? Besides, this expensive stuff feels exactly like the cheap dollar store cream anyway. It is so greasy!” I stared at her, watching her scrape every last drop of my ruined serum onto her skin, and let out a cold, sharp laugh. “Ah!” Before I could say another word, Toby noticed my dark expression. The little brat actually lunged forward, shoving me hard in the stomach, spitting out a string of foul curses that no six year old should even know. Martha did not correct him. In fact, a glint of twisted pride flashed in her eyes. Suddenly, the urge to explain that my “baby” was a dog vanished completely. If they wanted to play sick games, I could play too. 4 “It is quite alright,” I said, taking a deep breath and forcing the corners of my mouth up into a serene smile. Every penny they just cost me, I was going to bleed out of them tenfold. “If Toby likes playing with them, let him have fun. I am a mother too. I understand.” I watched Martha’s tense shoulders relax as she let go of Toby’s hand. I paused for a moment before speaking again, my voice dripping with manufactured innocence. “So, what brings you by today?” Martha slapped her forehead, putting on a spectacular show of realization. “Oh, right! I saw you bought the crib and figured your baby must still be quite young. I kept all of Toby’s baby clothes in pristine condition. I brought them over so you could save a little cash for your family!” I chuckled, my smile turning a fraction colder as I quickly cut her off. “Oh, we couldn’t possibly accept. You see, we only have the one precious baby, and we are incredibly particular. We only use custom fabrics and organic cotton. I am afraid we just couldn’t use second hand clothing. Besides, those outfits hold so many memories for you. You should keep them.” Martha’s smile froze. She scrambled for an angle. “Well, that is wonderful for your baby! Actually, to tell you the truth, my daughter is due to give birth very soon. If your baby has any high end clothes or toys they have outgrown, you could always pass them down to us.” The sound of an abacus clicking in her head was practically deafening. “You know how fast babies grow,” I sighed, adopting a look of profound regret. “The clothes cost a fortune, and they barely wear them before they are too small. I actually just bundled them all up and sold them to a luxury consignment shop online. I shipped the boxes out this morning.” I glanced up, catching the greed flashing in her eyes. “I had a few premium pieces left, but someone already claimed them. If I cancel the transaction now, the platform will hit me with a massive penalty fee for breaking the contract.” She took the bait immediately. “Oh, don’t worry about that! How much is the penalty fee? I will cover it.” The moment the words left her mouth, I unlocked my phone and pulled up a recent high end purchase receipt, carefully obscuring the date with my thumb. The four digit price tag was displayed in bold black text. “I gave the buyer a fifty percent discount, and they already transferred the funds. If I cancel, I have to refund them double as compensation.” “That… well… could you negotiate with them?” she stammered, her eyes darting nervously at the total. “Just give them their money back!” Did she really think she could scam me out of my things for free? Not a chance. She was not leaving this apartment until she paid for my ruined makeup. “Absolutely not. My husband and I have a reputation to maintain. We are not desperate for cash, and I refuse to get a negative review on my profile over something so trivial. You know how the internet is. One bad interaction and people try to ruin your life!” I casually brushed some invisible dog fur off my sleeve. “The courier just picked up the boxes. If you want the clothes, I need to intercept the package right now. My private housekeeper is arriving shortly to clean the bedrooms, so I won’t keep you any longer.” When people are caught off guard and pressed for time, they rarely stop to think logically. Within two minutes, I had a hefty sum transferred directly into my bank account. Now I actually had enough money to hire a professional cleaning service. Though, the cheap pacifiers and chew toys I had ordered online would not arrive for another two days. The second Martha and Toby walked out the door, I called my mom. I had texted her the moment Martha arrived, warning her to keep Buster out on his walk until I gave the all clear. Usually, Buster had boundless energy, but when my mom finally brought him in, he collapsed on the rug, panting heavily. Turns out, the local elementary school was on break, and Buster had spent two hours running drills with a pack of hyperactive children in the park. Bless the endless stamina of grade schoolers. Ever since I read that creepy forum post, I had forbidden Buster from sleeping in the mahogany crib. I had been genuinely paranoid that some weird fungal infection or mold in the wood might make him sick. But now? I had nothing to worry about. I pulled out a little step stool and placed it right next to the crib. Buster immediately climbed the steps, curled up on the soft mattress, and fell into a deep, snoring sleep. I opened the forum post again, a new question forming in my mind. Getting the clothes was one thing, but how was Martha planning to get my child’s name and exact astrological birthdate?

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For the ninth time, the tabloids caught my wife nestled in the arms of another man. Furious over the intimate photos plastered all over the internet, she directed her rage at me, landing a stinging slap across my cheek. “I told you Jace and I were discussing a script in that hotel room,” she spat, her eyes blazing. “I explicitly told you to keep watch outside and look out for paparazzi. How can you be so utterly useless?” She pointed a manicured finger at my chest. “You better fix this mess immediately. Jace is the top idol our agency just debuted. He cannot afford a single scandal.” I slowly raised a hand to my burning, swollen cheek. My voice came out startlingly calm. “Let us get a divorce.” “Once we are divorced, you two won’t have to sneak around anymore. And he won’t be branded with the ugly reputation of seducing a married woman.” Natalie let out a sharp, mocking laugh. A look of pure contempt twisted her beautiful features. “Arthur, have I been too lenient with you?” “You think you have grown some backbone, daring to demand a divorce from me?” “You eat my food. You spend my money. If it weren’t for me, you would still be a pathetic security guard rotting at a front gate!” “Have you gotten so comfortable in your life of luxury that you forgot who you really are?” She crossed her arms, glaring down at me. “Fine. You want a divorce? I will grant it. But you leave with absolutely nothing. You will not get a single cent of my fortune!” 1 Inside our sprawling home, Natalie threw the printed divorce papers right at my face. She had just printed them out. Her expression was dripping with disdain. “You are the one who asked for this. I am not forcing you!” “Did you really think a cheap stunt like this would threaten me, Arthur?” “Have I treated you so well lately that you actually believed you had the upper hand?” “If you have any guts at all, sign it. Do not dawdle and make me look down on you even more.” She looked so incredibly certain of herself, her face radiating arrogant mockery. I looked back at her. She felt like a total stranger. The Natalie standing before me was a completely different person from the woman I had fallen in love with all those years ago. The only constant in this world is the fickleness of the human heart. At this very moment, the true weight of that phrase finally crushed me. I picked up a pen and signed the papers. I kept one copy and handed the other back to her. Natalie froze. A fleeting flicker of panic crossed her eyes. She clearly had not anticipated that I would actually put my name on the dotted line. I kept my voice perfectly steady. “The papers are signed. There is a mandatory thirty day waiting period. Once the month is over, we will go to the courthouse and make it official.” “I am moving out today. I will pack my things and be out of your hair.” “If you want to bring Jace here, that is your business now. Just be careful not to get caught by the cameras again.” “Endure it for one more month and you will be completely free. Even if you want to marry him after that, nobody will have a right to judge you.” Natalie took a few ragged breaths. My calm demeanor seemed to infuriate her even more. She let out a cold, sarcastic sneer. “I do not believe for a second you actually want to leave me!” “Everything you possess right now is because of me.” “The moment you walk out that door, you are nothing.” “It is easy to go from rags to riches, but impossible to go back to the gutter. I highly doubt you can so easily throw away this life of wealth and privilege.” “If you want to leave, I won’t stop you.” “I will give you one month. I expect you to come crawling back, begging on your knees for my forgiveness!” Without waiting for my reply, she turned on her heel and stormed out of the house. I stared at the divorce papers on the table. My eyes stung. My nose felt incredibly raw. I wanted to cry. But I had no tears left to shed. Natalie used to be my guiding light during my darkest days. Her presence alone gave me the courage to face life again. Back then, we were inseparable. I honestly believed God was finally smiling down on me. Yet, a few years into our marriage, her patience with me began to erode. Countless times, I caught her in the arms of other men, drinking and laughing the night away. I used to confront her, fighting with her out of pure heartbreak and anger. Every single time, she would roll her eyes in sheer annoyance. “Arthur, do you not understand how networking functions?” “I am a top tier producer in the entertainment industry. If I actually wanted to mess around, I could have any man I desire. Why would I have bothered marrying you?” “I told you from the start. We are married, but you do not get to restrict my freedom or interfere with my career.” “Can you please grow up? Stop being so suffocating and petty.” Time and time again, she trampled all over my boundaries. In her eyes, I was so hopelessly dependent on her that I would never leave. That was why she felt so emboldened to flaunt her intimate affairs in public. Did she really not understand that love is never a one sided sacrifice? She definitely understood. She simply did not care. I was exhausted. I refused to drag out a toxic relationship that left me bruised and bleeding. Even if leaving her meant losing everything I had, I could not stomach another day as her pathetic shadow. Natalie, I am setting you free. And I am finally freeing myself. 2 I was an orphan. I never knew my biological parents or if they were even alive. My foster parents were poor but incredibly kind to me. When I graduated middle school, they perished in a tragic accident. Their greedy relatives immediately swooped in and seized the meager estate, tossing me out onto the streets. I drifted. I worked in sweatshops and delivered takeout in the pouring rain, doing whatever it took to keep myself fed. But fate seemed to hold a personal grudge against me. A severe illness struck me down. I spent half a month confined to a hospital bed. Not only did it drain every penny of my savings, but it also buried me under a mountain of medical debt. Discharged and utterly devoid of hope, I stumbled upon a hiring notice for security guards at Crescent Hill Estates. Blessed with a decent build and a clean face, I landed the job easily. And then, I met Natalie. She was three years older than me, a wealthy resident of the estate who drove a flashy sports car. My younger colleagues and I used to sit around the guardhouse, daydreaming. “Man, if a gorgeous rich woman like her took a liking to me, I would gladly shave twenty years off my lifespan!” “I heard a story about a handsome guard who got picked up by a millionaire. She gave him a massive allowance, a luxury car, and a mansion. Dude hit the jackpot just by having a nice face.” “Yeah, but I also heard that woman was pushing fifty. When her crazy son found out, he hired thugs to break the guy’s legs and ruin his face.” “Playing with the rich is a gamble. You might just lose your life.” Young men always harbor unrealistic fantasies about an easy life. I never expected my idle daydream to morph into reality. Late one night, walking back to my cramped rental after a grueling shift, I found Natalie completely intoxicated. She was hunched beside her sports car, violently throwing up. When she tried to stand, her legs buckled. A group of shady men was circling her like vultures. She slurred curses at them, but they grabbed her arms, whispering aggressively. Seeing this, I did not hesitate. I sprinted forward. With a few precise punches and kicks, I sent the thugs crashing to the pavement. I initially thought they were trying to take advantage of a drunk woman in the dark. It turned out they were sleazy paparazzi trying to extort celebrity secrets from her in her vulnerable state. Once the paparazzi scattered, Natalie slumped against the car door, dead to the world. I had no idea how much she had consumed. No matter how much I shook her or called her name, she remained unresponsive. I could not leave her alone on a dangerous street corner. I fished her keys out of her designer purse, unlocked the doors, and gently settled her into the backseat. I slid into the driver’s seat and navigated the roaring sports car back to Crescent Hill Estates. The other guards’ jaws practically hit the floor when they saw me rolling through the gates with the incapacitated heiress. I carried her inside. The sheer opulence of her mansion left me breathless. But I only admired it from afar. I harbored no ulterior motives. Having lived over two decades feeling cursed by the heavens, I never craved immense wealth. I only wanted a warm meal and a roof over my head. I tucked the sleeping Natalie into her plush bed and quietly slipped out into the night. The moment I returned to my tiny apartment, the loan sharks cornered me at my door. Several burly men glared at me, cracking their knuckles. Their leader, a blonde punk with a scarred brow, spoke with icy precision. “Arthur, your payment is three months overdue.” “I know times are tough, but business is business. You owe fifty thousand dollars. With the pathetic wage you make as a guard, when exactly are you going to clear this debt?” “Take my advice. Drop this ridiculous pride of yours. In this world, people laugh at the poor, not the escorts. A lack of cash can break the strongest of men.” “Brenda made an offer. Keep her company for a month, and she wipes your debt clean.” “Opportunities like this do not come twice.” “Cash in on your youth. Spend a few years pleasing rich women, and you will never have to worry about rent again.” Brenda was a notoriously wealthy, bad tempered woman in her fifties. She had a reputation for keeping young companions, and an even darker reputation for how terribly they ended up. Because I couldn’t afford my hospital bills, I had taken out a high interest loan. Just as they pointed out, my meager salary would never cover the ballooning interest. Was I really going to sink this low? Was I going to sell my dignity, my own body, just to satisfy the sickening desires of a wealthy predator? I did not sleep a wink that night. When dawn broke, I dragged my exhausted body to work, fully intending to hand in my resignation. But when I arrived at the guardhouse, Natalie was already there, waiting for me. She looked at me with a peculiar expression. She asked if I wanted to be her personal bodyguard and driver. When she found out about the crippling medical debt weighing me down, she generously wrote a check and cleared it instantly. From that day forward, I became the ultimate legend in the guards’ group chat. Over time, Natalie and I grew closer. Our relationship naturally blossomed, leading us to the altar. People whispered that I was the luckiest bastard alive. Their eyes burned with envy and spite. I never cared. I saw Natalie as the singular light of my existence, treating her with an almost religious reverence. My love for her was saturated with deep gratitude and total humility. Without her, I would have been swallowed whole by the abyss. I truly believed the heavens had finally shown me mercy. Only after a few years of marriage did I realize the happiness I clung to was just a cruel, elaborate joke. 3 I packed my clothes and dragged my suitcase out the front door. I planned to stay at a hotel for the time being. But when I handed my card to the receptionist, she gave me an awkward, pitying look. “Sir, it appears your card has been frozen.” I froze, but the realization hit me instantly. Natalie had cut me off. The premium card was a supplementary one she had issued to me. I had used it for all my daily expenses over the years. I checked my digital wallet on my phone. My personal balance hovered around a pathetic fifty dollars. If I paid for this room, I would be broke by tomorrow morning. Under the receptionist’s uncomfortable gaze, I grabbed the handle of my suitcase and walked back out into the street. I eventually found a cheap youth hostel. For a few dollars a night, I secured a bunk in a crowded dormitory. Since Natalie had frozen my accounts, I figured my position at her company was also history. Right on cue, my phone rang. The HR director’s voice was devoid of any professional courtesy. “Arthur, come to the office. Pack your garbage and get out.” Before I could even formulate a reply, the line went dead. Even though I fully expected to be fired, hearing the sheer contempt in his voice made a heavy sigh escape my lips. For years, I stood loyally by Natalie’s side, managing countless crises for her entertainment agency. I never took a single paycheck from the company. It belonged to my wife, so I gave my blood, sweat, and tears willingly, without keeping score. But the moment I was so casually discarded, I realized how incredibly foolish my devotion had been. I remembered the early days, sitting with ruthless entertainment investors. They demanded Natalie drink two full bottles of hard liquor before they would even glance at her proposal. I stepped up, risking alcohol poisoning, and downed every last drop to protect her. It was exactly because of sacrifices like that that her company gained a solid foothold in the industry and expanded into an empire. I held the title of Vice President. Though the employees treated me with surface level respect, they snickered behind my back, claiming I slept my way to the top. I used to ignore their toxic whispers. But now, I no longer had a place in that building. I had no desire to linger and be the subject of their cruel gossip. When I stepped into the lobby, the employees stared at me with bizarre expressions, whispering openly. “Natalie posted those sweet photos hugging Jace yesterday, and Arthur is actually just taking it!” “He is just a gold digger. Word is he used to be a dirty security guard. He got lucky marrying the boss.” “Calling it a marriage is generous. He is basically a stray dog Natalie took in.” “The boss has been linked to half a dozen young idols over the years. This loser is probably used to the humiliation by now.” “Look at all those green hats he is wearing. I cannot believe he hasn’t snapped!”

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Ever since my husband replaced the framed wedding photo above our bed with an oil painting done by his former college mentor, a sudden, heavy exhaustion washed over me. When I slid the signed divorce papers across the table to him, his face turned to ice. “I don’t even have the right to change a single painting in my own home?” he snapped. “You want a divorce over this? You’re just going to abandon the son you coddle so much?” I nodded slowly. I didn’t want any of it anymore. After all, my precious little boy was exactly like his father. They both put another woman first. 1 Arthur sat across from me, his face expressionless as he flipped through the divorce agreement I had just handed him. He didn’t read it carefully, merely skimming the pages before slapping the folder shut. “Just because I swapped out a piece of art? You’re throwing a tantrum and demanding a divorce over something this trivial?” He looked at me as if I were a toddler throwing a fit. “Think this through. I don’t have the time to play these games with you. Are you seriously giving up custody of Oliver? The son you hold in the palm of your hand?” I glanced toward the living room. Oliver was sitting on the sofa, eyes glued to the television, even though it was well past his bedtime. “I’m giving it up,” I answered. Arthur scoffed, pulled a pen from his pocket, and carelessly scribbled his name on the dotted line. Earlier this afternoon, I had cooked dinner just like any other day. Braised short ribs. It was the absolute favorite of the two men in my house. I watched the hands of the wall clock tick by, hour after hour, but the front door remained shut. I called Arthur. It rang twice before the line went dead. He had deliberately rejected my call. Finally, just past ten o’clock, the father and son returned. They were carefully carrying a heavily wrapped canvas. I had reheated the food three times. Yet, moving in perfect unison, they completely ignored the dining table and rushed straight to the master bedroom. I followed them to the doorway and watched Arthur take down the wedding portrait that had hung above our headboard for years. “Why are you taking that down all of a sudden?” I asked quietly. Arthur didn’t pause his movements. He didn’t even look back. “Do I not even have the right to change a painting?” Oliver was standing right beside him, standing on his tiptoes to help his father steady the new frame. The little boy’s eyes crinkled into a sweet, bright smile. “Dad, when can we go eat burgers with Aunt Valerie again?” Arthur immediately clamped a hand over Oliver’s mouth, shooting a nervous, sidelong glance at me. “I didn’t tell you we saw her because I didn’t want you to misunderstand.” Valerie was Arthur’s former college mentor. She was also mine. Recently, due to a corporate transfer, she had been assigned to the exact same research facility where Arthur worked. I lowered my eyes, looking back toward the dining room where the food was growing cold once again. “Just don’t take Oliver for fast food next time,” I said softly. “You know he has a sensitive stomach.” “Alright, I get it,” Arthur brushed me off, lifting the new painting onto the wall. He adjusted it slightly, stepped back with a satisfied smile, and pulled out his phone to snap a picture. “Dad, Aunt Valerie is so amazing. I didn’t know she could paint, too,” Oliver said, staring up at the wall with pure admiration. I finally looked at the canvas. It was a lush, romantic oil painting. So, Valerie painted it. Arthur didn’t answer our son. He was too busy smiling warmly at his phone screen, his thumbs typing away at lightning speed. Oliver scrambled up onto the mattress, craning his little neck to peek at Arthur’s screen. “Dad, what are you texting Aunt Valerie? I want to talk to her, too!” After Arthur signed the divorce papers, I decided to leave that very night. But as I looked around the house I had painstakingly maintained for nearly eight years, I didn’t even know where to begin packing. “It’s too late tonight. You can just leave tomorrow,” Arthur said, watching me from the hallway. I shook my head. “No. Tonight is fine.” I packed only my absolute essentials. I took off my wedding ring and left it on the nightstand. I didn’t take a single thing that belonged to the life we built together. As I dragged my suitcase to the front door and bent down to change my shoes, Oliver walked over. He stood there silently, staring at me with wide, timid eyes. Looking at the tiny human I had raised with every ounce of my being for six years, a sharp, uncontrollable ache pierced my chest. “I’m divorcing your father,” I told him, keeping my voice steady. “You need to listen to him from now on. Eat less junk food. And remember you are allergic to seafood. Don’t let him feed you crab.” Oliver blinked, then rolled his eyes with a look of pure indifference. “Hmph. Dad said you’ll be back in a few days anyway. You don’t even have any friends in this city. You only have me and Dad.” Then, he stepped closer, stood on his tiptoes, and whispered directly into my ear. “Mom, you should just stay away forever. I don’t like you. I like Aunt Valerie. If you never come back, Aunt Valerie can be my new mom.” Those words obliterated the last remaining soft spot in my heart. People say children speak the innocent truth. And it is exactly because he was a child that he didn’t sugarcoat his true feelings. The son I had held in the palm of my hand, the boy I had given up everything to nurture, had never actually liked me. I didn’t say another word. I grabbed the handle of my suitcase, opened the door, and walked out into the night. 2 Oliver was not entirely wrong. I truly had no friends in this city. Years ago, Arthur and I were in a long-distance relationship. Terrified of losing him and desperate to build a future together, I packed my bags, left my hometown, and resigned from a career I genuinely loved. I was fueled by blind, passionate love, fully believing that the right man would be waiting for me at the finish line. For a while, we were deeply in love. And then we had our beautiful son, Oliver. A baby required constant care, and Arthur refused to step back from his demanding career path. “Someone always has to make a sacrifice in a marriage, right?” he had hinted. I understood what he meant. The job I had found in this new city wasn’t nearly as prestigious or high-paying as his. So, convinced that our family’s happiness was all that mattered, I willingly stepped into the role of the devoted housewife. I managed our lives. I raised our son. That was until Valerie transferred to Arthur’s lab. From that moment on, I watched our relationship decay day by day. The warmth faded into coldness. The cracks splintered into shattering breaks. Even Oliver changed. More than once, he had casually mentioned that he wished Valerie was his mother. I stood on the desolate street corner in the early hours of the morning, waiting for a cab. The midnight wind cutting through my coat was bitter, but my heart felt even colder. I rented a small, cozy apartment. It had large windows that welcomed the morning sun. Back when I was a housewife, I used my sparse free time to write independent research papers and compile data analysis. Just today, I received an email confirming I had won a mid-tier industry award for one of my submissions. The prize money wasn’t a fortune, but it was enough to cover my living expenses for at least half a year. When I woke up the next morning, a rare, profound sense of peace washed over me. I didn’t have to jolt out of bed the second the alarm blared, nor did I have to scramble to make breakfast and pack Oliver’s school bag. I stood in front of the bathroom mirror. I took my time applying a light, fresh layer of makeup. I styled my hair properly. Looking at my reflection, the exhausted, hollow ghost of the housewife was gone. I looked alive again. I even signed up for a membership at a local fitness studio. When I lived with Arthur, keeping up with a hyperactive child and managing an entire household was physically draining, but it wasn’t the kind of movement that made me feel strong. Society loves to gossip about stay-at-home mothers, branding them as lazy or useless. I never cared about the whispers. I knew the truth. If we had relied solely on Arthur’s paycheck, Oliver would never have been able to live the pampered, spoiled life he enjoyed. My endless unpaid labor was what kept that house afloat. I shook the thoughts from my head and sat down at my laptop to polish my resume. I wanted to go back. I wanted to stand in a real laboratory again, not just sit at a makeshift desk in a laundry room. That afternoon, I treated myself to my absolute favorite cuisine. A blistering, tongue-numbing Szechuan hot pot. Because Arthur and Oliver preferred mild, sweet flavors, I had practically banished chili peppers from my kitchen for years. Taking that first bite of spicy, boiling broth, the heat rushed to my head. It was a sharp, painful reminder of how completely I had erased my own identity to accommodate theirs. That evening, Arthur called. His tone was perfectly casual, as if nothing had changed. “I’m just calling to ask about a sealed box of your things in the closet. I didn’t open it. Give me your new address, and I’ll mail it to you.” I paused for a moment, then replied smoothly. “You can open it. It’s just a bunch of useless junk from the past. I don’t need it anymore. Throw it all in the trash.” Arthur hesitated on the other end, his breathing faltering. “Oh, and by the way,” I added. “If you find anything else that belongs to me, just throw it out. Save yourself the trouble of calling me.” I ended the call. That box contained every single keepsake from the early days of our relationship. Movie tickets, handwritten notes, little gifts he had bought me when we had nothing. I had clung to them for years, unable to let them go. Now, they were just garbage. After a few rounds of interviews, I successfully landed a position at a private biotech firm. They were impressed by my independent research and offered me my own lab space to lead a small project. Leaving work that evening, I stopped by the supermarket. In the past, my grocery cart was always filled with ingredients tailored exclusively to my husband and son’s cravings. Today, I was going to spoil my own appetite. Just as I was pushing my cart down the produce aisle, my phone rang. It was Oliver’s kindergarten teacher. “Oliver’s Mom, I just wanted to check if you forgot the time today? All the other children have been picked up. Oliver is the only one left waiting here.” 3 I checked my watch. It had been over an hour since the kindergarten dismissed its students. I didn’t stop walking. I kept pushing my cart toward the fresh seafood section, absolutely refusing to alter my plans. “I’m sorry, Teacher,” I said calmly. “Oliver’s father and I are divorced. His father has full custody now. Please contact him from now on. Let me give you his number.” “Oh! I had no idea,” the teacher stammered, clearly embarrassed. “Because you’ve always been the one to pick him up, and Oliver insisted I call you. I’m so sorry to bother you.” I was about to tell her it was fine and hang up, but I suddenly heard Oliver snatch the phone from his teacher. “Mom, you are being so petty!” his shrill voice barked through the speaker. “Dad is super busy at work! You don’t even do anything all day, why can’t you just come pick me up?” “Hmph. If it were Aunt Valerie, she would definitely come get me.” Hearing those words, my heart didn’t even skip a beat. “Oliver,” I said, my voice cold and flat. “Your father and I are divorced. I am never coming to pick you up again. If no one comes to get you, tell your teacher to call your father. Or, if you prefer, you can tell her to call your precious Aunt Valerie.” I hung up and slipped the phone into my pocket. I truly didn’t remember raising him to be this entitled. When he was little, Arthur was always working late, and I would constantly tell Oliver how hard his father worked and how we needed to be understanding. But children are incredibly adaptable. Give them endless devotion, and they will soon view your sacrifice as their birthright. I massaged my temples. Whatever. He wasn’t my problem anymore. But my phone refused to stay quiet. Later that night, as I was finishing my dinner, Arthur called. “Eleanor, what am I supposed to do? Oliver’s stomach is acting up again. I tore the whole house apart and I can’t find his medication. Where did you hide it?” I swallowed the rising irritation and spoke evenly. “Bottom drawer of the cabinet beneath the television.” “Oh. Found it.” A brief silence hung on the line. “Uh, also… Oliver’s teacher called you today, right? I got tied up at the lab and ran late. Did they bother you?” I had no idea what Arthur was playing at. He sounded like he was awkwardly grasping for small talk. “Yes, it bothered me. So please, do not call my number ever again.” For years, my calls to him had been sent straight to voicemail. He had never once initiated a call just to check on me. Yet, in the few days since I left, my phone hadn’t stopped ringing. The next day, I went to the carrier and changed my phone number. Finally, the calls from Arthur ceased. I threw myself entirely into the laboratory. I often stayed from dawn until dusk, losing track of time among the equipment. Here, in the sterile white room, I felt the original spark of my ambition reignite. It felt like stepping back into my college days. I remembered who I was—a brilliant student fiercely passionate about scientific discovery. I just couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment I had allowed life to drain that passion out of me, volunteering to bury my own dreams for his. One afternoon, the department director knocked on the glass of my lab. He told me a partnering research team was here for a project handover. I peeled off my latex gloves and walked toward the reception room. Through the glass wall, I spotted a painfully familiar silhouette. Arthur. And sitting right beside him was Oliver. Arthur was awkwardly trying to explain to the bewildered director why he had brought a six-year-old child to a corporate facility. I pushed the door open. Arthur looked up, his brows furrowing slightly as if my presence offended him. “Mom…” Oliver mumbled, clutching the fabric of Arthur’s shirt, his voice small and timid. “Ah, let me introduce you. This is the lead researcher for our side of the project. She will handle the handover,” the director said, gesturing toward me. I offered a polite smile. “No introduction necessary, Director. This is my ex-husband. I’ll take it from here. You can get back to your work.” The director’s eyes widened. He offered an incredibly awkward chuckle and practically sprinted out of the room. I sat down across from them, flipped open the project file, and didn’t miss a beat. “According to the roster, your team should have one more representative present.” Just as the words left my mouth, the door clicked open. Valerie walked in. “My apologies. Traffic was terrible,” she said smoothly.

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The moment I found out Pierce Holdings was our new investor, I knew I had already lost to Stella. She was his first love. The one that got away. Just as I expected, when the pitch meeting ended, Rowan chose Stella’s design over mine. Stella found me in the hallway shortly after. A sickly sweet smile played on her lips. “You might be his wife, but in his heart, I will always come first.” “Everything you fought so desperately to get, I can have without lifting a finger.” She and I had been bitter rivals since high school. It all started when her mother stole my father. And now, she had effortlessly stolen Rowan’s heart, too. I cast a weary glance at the tall, impeccably dressed man standing at the end of the corridor. A sudden, bone-deep exhaustion washed over me. I didn’t want to fight Stella anymore. This time, I was letting him go. Between Rowan and my career, I chose my career. 1. The arrival of our new corporate backer had the whole office buzzing. He was outrageously handsome, came from ruthless old money, and possessed a ruthless business acumen that demanded respect. The investor was Rowan Pierce. My husband. When I saw his name on the brief, a cold knot twisted in my stomach. I knew my silent war with Stella was already over. In the breakroom, the gossip was flying thick and fast. “I can’t believe the CEO of Pierce Holdings is personally overseeing this. Rowan Pierce himself.” “If our team secures this bid, we are set for the entire fiscal year. We’ll be swimming in commissions.” “Don’t get your hopes up. It’s practically guaranteed to go to Stella’s team. Haven’t you heard? Rowan’s college sweetheart works right here in our design department. It’s Stella.” “They were the golden couple back at Boston University. Everyone knows he only invested in Aura Design just to get closer to her.” Every word felt like a needle sliding into my ribs. I walked back to my office like a ghost. The news of Rowan’s arrival was officially announced by noon. Manager Gibson called Stella and me into his glass-walled office. “Sienna, Stella.” He steepled his fingers, looking between us. “Pierce Holdings is funding our next major launch. Rowan Pierce wants both of your teams to draft competing proposals. You have one month.” Gibson offered Stella a meaningful, almost sycophantic look. He clearly knew the rumors. He knew exactly why Rowan had chosen our firm. I hadn’t even stepped out of the office before the realization hit me. My team was going to bust our asses for nothing. Going up against Stella meant I was nothing but a prop in her romantic reunion. In the hallway, Stella stopped. We stood face to face. I met her gaze, and her lips curved into a triumphant, radiant smirk. “May the best woman win, Sienna.” She sounded entirely too confident. She knew the game was rigged. Given the choice between her and me, Rowan would pick her every single time. I watched her walk away, the click of her heels echoing down the floor. Her department erupted into cheers the second she returned. If my team lost this bid, I would be demoted to working under Stella. I would have to swallow my pride and take orders from the woman who ruined my life. I refused to let that happen. Right before clocking out, half the floor gathered around Stella’s desk, drowning her in compliments. “You are incredible, Stella. We’re so lucky to have you.” I caught her eye through the crowd. She was the center of the universe, bathed in warm light and adoration. In stark contrast, my corner of the office was dead quiet. I stood completely alone. She offered me a pitying little smile. I looked away, grabbed my trench coat, and walked out into the cold New York evening. 2. Rowan got home late. His expression was the same as always. Cold, detached, undeniably beautiful. I couldn’t hold the question back any longer. “Rowan, did you invest in my firm?” He paused, shrugging off his tailored suit jacket. He met my eyes with a flat, indifferent stare and gave a single, soft hum of confirmation. “Why did you choose Aura Design?” I forced a light, teasing tone into my voice. “Are you going to show your wife some favoritism?” His dark eyebrows drew together. There was absolutely zero warmth in his deep-set eyes. He stayed quiet for a moment before answering. “It was a board decision. I don’t make these calls alone.” The unspoken message was loud and clear. Being his wife meant nothing. It bought me no privileges. I didn’t push it. He was always like this. Frosty and principled, operating by his own rigid set of rules. He never bent them for me. And like a fool, I always ended up humiliating myself by hoping I could be his exception. Rowan turned on his heel and walked into his study. He left the heavy oak door slightly ajar. I could hear the low murmur of his voice on the phone. Then, the unmistakable sound of Stella’s bright laughter drifting through the speaker. Rowan chuckled softly in response. A sound I rarely ever heard. When the call ended, he stepped back out into the foyer. He grabbed a heavy wool overcoat from the rack, slipping his arms into the sleeves and adjusting his leather oxfords. He stood tall, not quite looking at me. “I have a business dinner. Don’t wait up.” I simply nodded. Rowan was breathtakingly handsome. Sharp jawline, straight nose, and thin, expressive lips. The dark coat made his broad shoulders look even more imposing. The door clicked shut behind him. He didn’t come home until the early hours of the morning. Any questions I had left died in my throat when I opened Instagram in bed. Stella had posted a new picture. It was a group selfie of four people at an upscale lounge. Stella, Rowan, and two of their old college friends. Staring at the screen, I realized I already knew the answer. Would he favor Stella over me? Yes. Without hesitation. I used to leave the hallway light on for him whenever he had late nights. Tonight, I switched it off and let the darkness swallow the apartment. I slept surprisingly well. The next morning, we left for work at different times, avoiding each other completely. The atmosphere at the office was suffocating. Everyone was treating Stella like royalty. It was an unspoken fact. Rowan wouldn’t have looked twice at our firm if she wasn’t here. My hatred for Stella was my own private burden. The rest of the staff only cared about their annual bonuses and keeping the VIP client happy. Rowan visited the office that afternoon to review our preliminary timelines. Gibson called Stella into the boardroom to meet him. When she finally emerged, every eye in the bullpen locked onto her. “Spill it, Stella. Is the big boss as terrifying as he looks?” A coy, ambiguous smile touched her lips. “I’ve known Rowan for a long time. He’s actually quite sweet.” She paused for dramatic effect. “You guys have nothing to worry about.” A few junior designers exchanged knowing glances and giggled. I already knew the legendary romance of Stella and Rowan. I had read the digital footprint of it a hundred times over. If I wasn’t his wife, I might have even thought it was a beautiful story of young love. But reading the archived posts compiled by their nosy classmates only made my chest ache. Stella still kept her old college blog public. It was a digital diary of everything they shared. I had tortured myself by reading every single entry. The more I read, the more I realized how fiercely Rowan had loved her. He used to read every trivial thing she posted, leaving long, thoughtful comments under each picture. He was the one who chased her first. Meanwhile, it took me a grueling, humiliating year of practically begging for his attention before he finally agreed to date me. When I first discovered his ex was Stella, a twisted, vicious thrill shot through me. I thought I had finally won. I thought I had taken something precious from her. But the reality was a brutal wake-up call. Rowan was still harboring feelings for his ex. Being married to a man who loved my worst enemy was the ultimate humiliation. It just gave Stella another way to crush me. 3. Stella and I had been at each other’s throats since middle school. We were oil and water. Her mother marched into our home, destroyed my parents’ marriage, and drove my mother to a severe mental breakdown that landed her in the psychiatric ward. I almost lost my mom forever. By high school, Stella and I ended up at the same prestigious prep academy. She missed the entrance cutoff by a single point. My father, Arthur, pulled strings and threw money at the board to get her in. That same year, my mother packed her bags and moved to London. I was left behind in Arthur’s sprawling, empty mansion. I was a naive teenager. I thought if I acted out, if I made their lives a living hell, the mistress and her daughter would pack up and leave. My tactics were juvenile. I spiked their morning water glasses with black drawing ink. I was too scared to actually poison them, so I just wanted to scare them. I wanted to mark my territory. Instead, Stella ran crying to Arthur. His face turned a dangerous shade of purple as he screamed at me, his disappointment suffocating. I hated them, but I didn’t have the stomach for true cruelty. Every stunt I pulled only made Arthur feel more guilty for the “hardships” he put his new family through. I thought graduation would be the end of it. But during my freshman year of college, Arthur dragged Stella to a high-society charity gala. He didn’t correct anyone who assumed she was his biological daughter. He even drafted paperwork to legally change her last name to Cross. I stood in his study, trembling with rage, and told him that if he gave her my family name, I would drop it and take my mother’s maiden name instead. His eyes burned with fury. He raised his hand, fully intending to strike me across the face. But a tall, broad-shouldered figure stepped in front of me, catching my father’s wrist mid-air. It was Rowan. Years later, after graduating, our paths crossed again in the city. I spent twelve exhausting months chasing him. I was always there, always available, always trying to break through his icy exterior. Just as I was about to give up and walk away, he finally said yes. It wasn’t until after we exchanged vows that I found out Stella was his great college romance. Worse, I found out Rowan used to visit my father’s estate as Stella’s boyfriend. When Arthur received the news that I had married Rowan Pierce, his face went ashen. He clutched his chest, struggling to breathe. “Are you doing this on purpose?” he had gasped out. “You knew he was Stella’s boy. You married him just to spite her?” I had stood there, frozen in shock. During our first holiday season as a married couple, I refused to visit my father. Rowan insisted. He practically dragged me to the Cross estate. Within an hour of arriving, Stella and I got into a screaming match on the patio. We both slipped on the icy marble steps. Rowan moved with lightning speed. He lunged forward and wrapped his arms securely around Stella, breaking her fall. I hit the hard stone, scraping my knees bloody. Later, sitting in the urgent care clinic with tears stinging my eyes, I asked him why he didn’t reach for me. He didn’t even look up from his phone. His voice was completely void of emotion. “I didn’t see you fall.” When Rowan stepped out to take a call, Stella strolled into the exam room. She looked down at me on the hospital bed, a victorious gleam in her eyes. She spent the next ten minutes recounting every sweet, intimate moment she and Rowan shared in college. She described a version of my husband I had never met. A man who was tender, passionate, and hopelessly devoted. My heart felt like it was being crushed in a vise. After I recovered, the universe played its final cruel joke. Stella and I were hired at the same design firm. The rat race started all over again. She flaunted her status as Arthur Cross’s beloved daughter, forcing management to treat her with kid gloves. Now, she had the added armor of being the billionaire investor’s former flame. The entire office worshipped the ground she walked on. I knew my proposal was doomed. But my pride wouldn’t let me quit. I dragged my team through sleepless nights and endless coffee runs, determined to go down fighting. 4. A month later, I walked into the glass boardroom with a perfectly bound portfolio. Everyone was seated. The only empty chairs belonged to Stella and Rowan. They walked in together. The morning sunlight caught them perfectly, illuminating the way Rowan tilted his head down to catch whatever Stella was whispering. His jawline was sharp, his posture relaxed. His dark eyes held a faint, genuine warmth. I caught his gaze for a split second. I searched his face, desperate to find even a flicker of guilt or reassurance. There was nothing. Just that familiar, freezing indifference. We drew straws for the presentation order. I was up first. I kept my composure, connecting my laptop and bringing the slides to life on the massive screen. I poured my soul into the pitch, breaking down every structural detail and creative inspiration. When I finished, the applause was painfully thin. The only person cheering genuinely was Brie, a bright-eyed junior designer who had been with me since her internship. Rowan sat like a statue. His face was an impenetrable mask. Manager Gibson kept shooting nervous glances at him, trying to read his mind. Then it was Stella’s turn. She walked to the front, locking eyes with Rowan effortlessly. They shared a private, lingering smile. The other executives at the table noticed. They exchanged knowing, amused looks. Brie leaned over to me, her voice barely a whisper. “Sienna… are we going to lose this?” I forced the corners of my mouth up into a brittle smile. When Stella concluded her presentation, the room erupted. The applause was deafening compared to mine. Gibson practically gave her a standing ovation. A tiny smirk tugged at the corner of Rowan’s mouth. We took a thirty-minute recess before the final verdict. Lately, the constant barrage of rumors about Rowan and Stella had been suffocating me. The way he looked at me—like I was a stranger taking up space—made it hard to breathe. Thanks to the relentless office gossip, I had learned even more about their past. How Rowan would stand outside her dorm in the freezing rain just to walk her to class. How he brought her breakfast in bed. Every Boston alumni in our circle knew that Rowan Pierce had worshipped the ground Stella walked on. I sat in my leather chair, paralyzed. I watched them walk out of the boardroom side by side. My throat burned. The man I had moved mountains to marry was carrying the heart of the woman I despised most in this world. Soon, the room emptied out until it was just Brie and me. She reached under the table and squeezed my hand. Half an hour later, the executives returned. Rowan and his corporate entourage had already left the building. Gibson stood at the head of the table, looking incredibly pleased with himself. “The board has cast three votes,” he announced. “All three votes go to Stella’s team.” My eyes burned. A hot rush of unshed tears pricked at the corners of my eyes. I dug my nails into my palms and swallowed the pain down. Gibson nodded at Stella, a look of profound respect on his face. Her team immediately swarmed her. “You killed it, Stella! We’re celebrating tonight!” I gathered my files and slipped out the back door, slipping away like a shadow. But Stella followed me. “Sienna.” I stopped in the middle of the hallway. Her eyes were crinkled in absolute delight. “You might share his bed, but I will always own his heart.” “You fought tooth and nail for a life that falls right into my lap.” She was right. When we were fourteen, she effortlessly stole my father’s love. Now, she commanded my husband’s devotion without even trying. Down the hall, I saw Gibson ushering Rowan toward the VIP elevator. Rowan looked relaxed, hands in his pockets, completely at ease. A crushing wave of fatigue hit me. I was done. I was done fighting Stella. And I was done with Rowan Pierce. The elevator doors were held open. Gibson, ever the opportunist, enthusiastically waved both Stella and me over to join them for the ride down to the lobby. The car descended in heavy silence. Gibson couldn’t resist kissing up. “Mr. Pierce, I must say, you and our Director Davis make quite the striking pair.” “A match made in heaven, really.” A few other executives chimed in immediately. “Absolutely. We actually heard a rumor you two tied the knot! Mr. Pierce is truly a romantic, choosing our firm just to support his wife’s career.” I stood in the corner, entirely numb. My heart didn’t even skip a beat at the horrific irony. Suddenly, I felt a heavy, burning stare fixed on the side of my face. I slowly turned my head. Rowan’s jaw was clenched tight, his face drained of color. Gibson nudged my elbow, practically demanding I join the praise chorus. “Isn’t that right, Sienna? Don’t they make the perfect couple?” The stainless steel doors glided open to the lobby. I looked Rowan dead in the eyes. My voice was eerily calm. “They really are a perfect match.” Panic flared in the depths of his dark eyes. His lips parted as if he wanted to scream something.

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Three years after we broke up. Dante and I met again in the glittering lobby of a five-star hotel. I was working the front desk. He was checking into the presidential suite with a woman on his arm. That night, I received three calls from his room. The first time, he said, “The sheets need changing.” I had housekeeping handle it. Two hours later, he called again, demanding another change of sheets. I complied. At two in the morning, his third call came through. I cut him off before he could speak, my voice a mask of polite refusal. “I’m sorry, sir, but housekeeping has gone home for the night.” A low chuckle came through the line, lazy and careless. “Then you come change them.” 1 I didn’t grace him with a response. I just hung up. My job was at the front desk, not cleaning rooms. My colleague sidled over, her voice a conspiratorial whisper. “Was that the guy in the presidential suite again?” When I nodded, she smothered a giggle behind her hand. “Making housekeeping change the sheets three times in one night… that man has some serious stamina.” She leaned closer. “So what did he say when you told him they were off duty?” “He told me to go up and do it,” I said flatly. Her eyes widened for a second, then she let out a sharp, mocking laugh. “Does he think renting the presidential suite makes him king of the world? So disrespectful. It’s not like he owns the place, treating us like his 24/7 personal maids…” Her rant was cut short by the trill of her desk phone. She cleared her throat and answered it professionally. A moment later, her voice was laced with deference. “Yes, Mr. Henderson.” I couldn’t hear what the manager said on the other end, but my colleague’s eyes shot to me, wide with disbelief. “You want Ava to go to the presidential suite… to change the sheets? Right now?” 2 Fifteen minutes later, I stood outside the presidential suite, steeling myself before pressing the doorbell. The door opened to reveal Dante, clad in nothing but a plush hotel bathrobe. His eyes met mine, and he stepped aside, a silent invitation to enter. From the bathroom, I could hear the faint sound of a running shower. He led me into the bedroom and then sank onto a nearby sofa. He casually plucked a cigarette, placed it between his lips, and lit it, the picture of cool indifference. I moved to the bed in silence and pulled back the duvet. The damp stain on the sheets hit me like a physical blow. A dull, heavy ache bloomed in my chest. He exhaled a cloud of smoke, his voice a lazy drawl, tinged with the weariness of a man utterly satisfied. “Sorry for the trouble. My girlfriend gets a little… carried away. Can’t sleep on them like this.” He gestured with his cigarette. “Be quick about it, would you? She’s exhausted.” “It will only take five minutes,” I managed, my voice steady despite the tremor in my heart. My hands moved with practiced efficiency, stripping the soiled linens and replacing them with fresh, crisp ones. I gathered the dirty sheets into a bundle and turned to leave. But he was suddenly there, blocking my path, closing the distance until my back was pressed against the edge of the bed. He leaned in, and I stumbled backward, falling onto the mattress. In the next second, he was over me, his weight pinning me down, his body an unmovable force. The shower was still running. My hands clenched, pushing against the mattress as I tried to sit up, but it was useless. He was too strong. I pushed against his chest, my voice a frantic whisper. “Your girlfriend will see. Get off me.” His eyes were cold, his breath a sharp mix of alcohol and something else, something dangerous, as he leaned close to my ear. “All these years, Ava,” he murmured, his voice a low growl. “I’ve never understood.” “Why him? Of all people, why did you have to cheat on me with him?” 3 The sound of the shower cut off abruptly. But he didn’t move. Panic clawed at my throat, and I did the only thing I could think of. I bit down hard on his forearm. He let out a muffled grunt, his brow furrowed in pain, and his grip loosened just enough. I shoved him away, scrambling off the bed and grabbing the bundle of linens. I fled like my life depended on it. Just as the heavy door clicked shut behind me, I heard a woman’s soft, cloying voice drift from the room. “Honey, if you make them change the sheets again, I’ll be too embarrassed to show my face tomorrow.” His reply was lost to me as I hurried down the silent, carpeted hallway, my heart hammering against my ribs. The wild thumping only began to slow as the distance between us grew. It’s not like I hadn’t wondered what it would be like to see him again. But I had never, not in my darkest imaginings, pictured this. Three years, and his hatred for me was still this raw. It would have been better if our paths had never crossed again. 4 Back at the front desk, my colleague was buzzing, ready to gossip. “Do you have any idea who that guy in the presidential suite is?” It was late, and I was exhausted, in no mood for chatter. But she was too wound up to notice. “I just looked him up. He’s Dante Jennings! The heir to the Crestview Jennings fortune.” “It’s against policy to look up guest information,” I said, my voice tired. “I was curious! No wonder our manager jumped when he called at two in the morning.” She leaned in, her voice dropping. “I did a quick search, and it’s all over the internet—that multi-billion-dollar inheritance war their family had three years ago. Apparently, Dante got seriously ill at the worst possible time and almost lost his claim as the heir.” She rattled on, oblivious to the storm brewing inside me. “He had a girlfriend back then, his first love, they said. She was a real piece of work. The second she saw he was on his way out, she cheated on him. While he was lying in the ICU, she just up and left him for another man. It almost killed him! But he pulled through, thank God.” “People online still trash her. They call her the worst kind of gold-digger. She must be kicking herself now, throwing away her chance to be Mrs. Jennings.” She paused for dramatic effect. “Oh, but you haven’t heard the craziest part. Do you know who she cheated on him with?” Her voice was a relentless buzz in my ears. “Yes,” I said quietly. “I know.” She raised her voice slightly. “You know? You’ve read the stories too?” I slowly turned to face her, my expression calm as I met her wide, curious eyes. “I don’t need to read the stories.” My voice was even, devoid of emotion. “I’m that girlfriend. The one who cheated on him.” Her face froze, the gossipy smile wiped clean, leaving only stunned silence. 5 Meeting Dante was the most beautiful accident of my life. It started when I saw a man harassing a girl on the street. I didn’t think; I just acted, kicking the creep right where it counts. I dragged him to the police station, and Dante, amused, followed me the whole way. He was leaning against the entrance when I came out and asked for my number. One thing led to another, and soon enough, we were inseparable. The day he told me he loved me, I asked him why. He just smiled, a playful glint in his eye. After a long moment, he took my hand. “I think I fell for you the second I saw you kick that guy in the balls.” He was such a tease, always messing with me. We were together for a long time. He bought an apartment near campus, and we fell into the easy, sweet rhythm of any normal couple in love. My parents divorced when I was young, and I was raised by my grandmother. One day, while we were video-chatting, she mentioned she was having trouble eating because she’d lost some teeth. The very next day, Dante took her to the best dentist in the city and paid for a full set of dental implants. Later, I hesitantly brought up the cost. It was tens of thousands of dollars. He’d signed the check without blinking, but I had no idea how I could ever repay him. He saw the worry on my face. “Don’t worry about the money, Ava. It’s on me.” I looked at him, my voice small. “What if… what if we break up someday? You won’t make my grandma give them back, will you?” He burst out laughing. Back then, I knew he was wealthy, but I had no idea of the scale. Not until I was complaining about my university scholarship being delayed. The very next day, the entire process for the Jennings Corporation scholarship was streamlined. The announcements were made, and the funds were distributed that same afternoon. That was when I learned he was that Jennings. The one from Crestview. 6 Then his father passed away. The battle for the Jennings fortune was the story of the year. It turned out Dante wasn’t the only son. His father had a handful of illegitimate children scattered around. Right when the fight was at its most vicious, Dante was hospitalized. Acute kidney failure. He spent more than ten days in the ICU. Two rounds of dialysis did nothing. His kidney function was gone. The doctors, left with no other choice, recommended a transplant. But we waited and waited, and no suitable donor could be found. I went to his half-siblings, one by one, and begged them to get tested. But none of them would. Why would they? With Dante out of the picture, their slice of the inheritance pie would be that much bigger. They were hoping he would die; they certainly weren’t going to lift a finger to save him. I was lost in a fog of despair, with no way out. Dante must have sensed it. He had his lawyer transfer all his personal assets to me. He lay in that hospital bed, his hand, pale and weak, stroking my face, patiently wiping away my endless tears. He told me that meeting me was the one thing in his life he didn’t regret. But then, in a move that shocked everyone… One day I accepted his fortune. The next, I was in the arms of another man. I didn’t stay by his side. I didn’t comfort him through his final days. I betrayed him, jumping ship to a man who had a better chance of winning. And that man was his father’s favorite illegitimate son. 7 The rumors spread like wildfire. Everyone pointed their fingers at me. Dante’s friends cursed me out on sight. “What did you expect? Girls like her don’t have a loyal bone in their body.” “She saw Dante was dying, that he was going to lose the inheritance, and she immediately latched onto the next best thing. Noah Jennings. Damn, she’s a cold-hearted strategist. I really underestimated her.” “Bitches have no loyalty. My dad was right. Play with them, sure, but marry a girl from your own world.” The gossip was everywhere. Dante, hearing it, begged to see me. His friends, despite hating me, came and pleaded with me to go. When I saw him again, he looked even more fragile than before. He grabbed my wrist, his grip surprisingly strong, and his voice trembled. “They’re saying you’re with him. I don’t believe it. I need to hear it from you.” He looked at me, his eyes pleading. “It’s a misunderstanding, right? I know you wouldn’t do this to me.” I pulled my hand from his grasp, my gaze cold and distant. “Dante, I don’t love you anymore.” He flinched as if I’d struck him. His eyes instantly turned red. The proud, untouchable man I knew seemed to crumble right before my eyes, all his arrogance stripped away. To this day, I can still see his face, wet with tears. He clung to my hand, his voice breaking as he begged me not to go. He cried, promising he would fight for the inheritance, for me. He would win it all if I just stayed. But I just stood there, watching him fall apart. Finally, one of his friends couldn’t take it anymore. He pulled Dante away and shoved me out of the room. “Get out! Go run back to your new boy toy and get the hell out of here!” he roared. “Don’t you ever show your face again! If Dante doesn’t make it through this, we will come for you! I swear on my life!” 8 I finally got off my night shift at 8 a.m. I’d been asleep for less than four hours when my phone rang. It was my colleague, telling me to get back to the hotel immediately. The guest in the presidential suite had reported a valuable item missing. All sleepiness vanished. I threw on my clothes and rushed back. When I walked into the hotel’s meeting room, the first person I saw was Dante, lounging on the sofa. His girlfriend was nestled against him. My manager stood off to the side, a strained, apologetic smile on his face. Dante’s girlfriend had discovered this morning that a pair of diamond earrings, valued at half a million dollars, were missing from her room. The only people who had been inside their suite last night were me and the housekeeper. The housekeeper had already been questioned and searched, with nothing found. The woman pointed a perfectly manicured finger at me, her voice dripping with disdain. “Strip. Let’s see what you’re hiding.” 9 My eyes instinctively flickered to Dante. He had watched my every move last night. How could I have possibly stolen anything right under his nose? But he showed no intention of defending me. He just sat there, one leg crossed over the other, a cold, detached observer to my humiliation. My manager scurried over, whispering, “We can’t afford to offend him, Ava. Just… play along. It’s just for show.” I clutched my shoulder bag tighter, lifting my chin in defiance. “If you suspect me of theft, then call the police. You have no right to search me yourselves.” At that, the woman shot to her feet, her tone becoming sharp and aggressive. “My boyfriend is a very busy man. We don’t have time to waste at a police station. Those earrings are worth over half a million dollars. They were a birthday present from him.” She glared at me. “I knew there was something off about you last night. I step out of the shower and you’re practically sprinting out the door. If you weren’t guilty, why were you in such a hurry to run away?” Before I could react, she lunged forward and snatched my bag. I held on tight, refusing to let go, but she was surprisingly strong. With a final, vicious tug, she ripped it from my grasp. The zipper screeched open as she turned the bag upside down, shaking its contents onto the floor. A small, crystal moon hit the polished wood and shattered into a dozen pieces. Dante’s gaze fell on the broken shards. For the first time, a crack appeared in his stoic facade. He swallowed hard, his voice low and gravelly. “That’s enough. Stop it.” He turned to his girlfriend. “I’ll buy you a new pair tomorrow. Pick whatever you want.”

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I’m a clinger. I was doing it again, wrapping myself around my boyfriend, Alex, begging for one more goodnight kiss. That’s when the comments popped into my vision, floating in the air like ghostly text messages. [Can the side character get a clue? He’s obviously trying to pull away.] [He’s got an avoidant attachment style, duh. He hates physical contact, and she’s walking right into the line of fire.] [FYI, what he needs is a partner who can guide him, like the main female lead.] [Don’t worry, the female lead is about to show up. This clingy, useless girl is gonna get dumped hard!] I froze for a second, then slowly unwound my arms from around his neck. A moment later, Alex’s head shot up. A flicker of annoyance darkened his eyes, and his voice was a low rasp. “Why’d you stop?” 1 My heart stuttered. My gaze darted away, suddenly unable to meet his. Under that sharp, intense stare, I secretly clutched the bedsheets and mumbled, “I’m just tired.” Alex stared at me for two silent seconds. He must not have seen anything unusual in my expression. A moment later, he rolled over, his voice flat. “Then sleep.” I looked at the cold, rigid line of his back, a bitter taste filling my mouth. I got up, switched off the lights, and climbed back into bed. The comments echoed in my mind, so I huddled at the very edge of the mattress, putting as much space between us as possible. I wouldn’t bother him by pressing against him anymore. Maybe then… he’d hate me a little less. Lying in the dark, listening to the sound of his deep, steady breathing, my thoughts began to drift. Deep down, I think I always knew. Alex didn’t really love me. Since we started dating, he’d always been lukewarm, keeping me at arm’s length and resisting any real intimacy. But I’m a clinger. I wanted to be with him every second of every day. He never said anything, but the slight furrow of his brow, the tension in his jaw—it was all there, screaming his reluctance. I just never let myself see it. I even lied to him, telling him I was scared to live alone, just so I could wear him down and move into his place. Then I pushed it further, ending up in his bed, in his room. Every night, I’d cling to him like an octopus, my limbs tangled with his. He allowed it, but now that I think about it, his first instinct was always to refuse. I just wanted to be near him so badly that I ignored all the signs. So the comments I saw… they were probably right. A heavy weight settled in my chest. The more I thought about it, the more it hurt, and it was long past midnight before I finally fell asleep. 2 When I woke up, I was back in Alex’s arms, my right hand wrapped tightly around his waist. His chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm. After a moment of disorientation, a wave of frustration washed over me. I’d gotten so used to sleeping like this, I must have reached for him in my sleep. If Alex woke up and saw this, he’d be so annoyed. Slowly, carefully, I began to retract my arm, trying to slip away without him noticing. I was almost free. But then, his hand shot out and clamped around my wrist. I looked up, my eyes meeting his. They were dark and deep. He must have just woken up, too. His voice was still rough with sleep. “What are you doing?” I yanked my hand back in a panic, bracing my arms against his chest to push him away. “It’s—it’s getting late,” I stammered. “We have to get to work.” Alex didn’t say anything, just stared at me with a blank expression. But even without looking at him, I could feel a low-pressure storm gathering around him. [He’s definitely in a bad mood because she was cuddling him again.] [Seriously, who likes being held while they sleep? It’s so uncomfortable.] [Right? She’s a grown woman. Can’t she have a little self-awareness?] [I wouldn’t be able to stand a clinger like that either. No wonder he’s pissed.] I looked down, my eyelashes fluttering. The comments made my cheeks burn with shame. As I stood there, frozen with uncertainty, Alex’s deep, magnetic voice came from above me again, impossible to read. “About that goodnight kiss from last night… want to make up for it now?” Before, whenever Alex went on a business trip and missed our good morning or goodnight kisses, I’d make him pay them back. I was like a loan shark about affection—if he missed one, he owed me ten. The first time I’d told him that, he’d almost laughed in disbelief. “Sophie, don’t you think that’s a little much?” I’d just blinked, completely oblivious, and cupped his face in my hands, planting kiss after kiss on him until I was satisfied. I guess it happened so often that he just got used to it and stopped showing his resistance so openly. But remembering how he’d subtly dodged me last night, I knew he didn’t really want to. So I waved my hands frantically. “No, it’s okay!” I said, then looked down at the floor, adding in a small, unconfident voice, “We don’t have to do the good morning and goodnight kisses anymore.” Alex watched me, his gaze hardening. After a long moment, he said flatly, with what sounded like a hint of defiance, “Whatever you want.” I quietly let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. But at the same time, a familiar ache spread through my chest. He really did see it as a burden. 3 After a quick shower, I found Alex had already made breakfast. He was always faster than me. By the time I sat down, he was already finished, his eyes fixed on me as I ate. I started eating faster. “No rush,” he said, his brow furrowed. I nodded, my cheeks full. Ten minutes later, Alex was ready to drive me to work, just like always. But we were running late. The comments flared to life again, practically buzzing with excitement. [If I remember right, today’s the day he meets the female lead, isn’t it?] [Yep! She starts at his company today. She’s super competent, great with people, and most importantly, she has a sense of personal space.] [See? That’s why he won’t feel pressured around her.] [Once he gets a taste of what a real partner is like, he’ll dump this clinger in a heartbeat.] My vision blurred. So today was the day he’d meet her. My heart felt heavy, and the air around me suddenly seemed thin. Seeing me just standing there, Alex prompted, “Get in the car.” I didn’t move. “You can go ahead. I’ll get to the office myself.” He got out of the car, his long legs closing the distance between us in a few strides. His gaze was sharp, analytical. “You’re angry,” he stated, not a question. “It’s because I dodged your kiss last night, isn’t it?” I looked up at him, bewildered. “No, of course not.” How could I be angry? The comments just made me realize what a clingy person I was. I was just trying to fix it. Alex obviously didn’t believe me. He stepped closer. “Then why won’t you let me drive you?” My eyes flickered away. I couldn’t tell him the real reason. “I just think… we should give each other a little more personal space,” I said, my voice laced with guilt. He paused, clearly not expecting that. He didn’t press any further. “…Fine. I’ll pick you up after work.” He didn’t wait for my answer, just left me with those words, got back in his car, and sped off. I was distracted all day. The comments said Alex was going to drive the female lead home, that he wouldn’t be coming for me. They mocked me for being delusional. When I stepped out of my office building, my heart pounding with nervous anticipation, his car wasn’t there. Normally, he’d be here ten minutes early. I stared at the empty spot on the curb for a while, lost in thought. Suddenly, a bright voice called out from behind me. “Sophie? What are you doing just standing here? Can’t get a ride?” I turned around. It was a young guy with a stylish flair, a motorcycle helmet tucked under his arm. He’d just started a few days ago and was full of energy. “It’s rush hour,” he continued. “Don’t even try the subway. I can give you a lift on my bike.” My first instinct was to say no, but the sky was already growing dark. I nodded. “Thanks.” Jax was a good head taller than me and easily slipped the helmet over my head. “No problem.” But in the next second, a long, insistent car horn blared behind us. Before I could react, Alex was out of his car. He walked right up to me, laced his fingers through mine, and lifted the helmet off my head. He handed it back to Jax with a casual air. “Hey,” he said, his voice deceptively light. “I’m Sophie’s boyfriend. Alex.” Jax blinked, then a mischievous grin spread across his face. “You’re not doing a very good job as a boyfriend, are you? We’ve been off work for a while now.” 4 Alex’s eyes narrowed dangerously. The air grew thick with tension. I gently squeezed his hand, trying to break the stalemate. “Alex, let’s go home.” Then I waved to Jax. “We’re gonna head out. See you tomorrow! Ride safe!” On the way to the car, Alex’s mood was dark. He walked so fast, his long legs eating up the pavement, that I had to jog to keep up. Once we were inside, I looked at his cold, chiseled profile, about to explain. But the words died in my throat. My eyes had drifted to the dashboard, and there, nestled behind the windshield, was a cute little cat plushie. Alex hated cats. And that plushie wasn’t there yesterday. [Hehe, that adorable little thing? Obviously a gift from the female lead.] [Look at the side character’s face. She totally knows what’s up.] [Just break up with him already. Save yourself the humiliation.] [And she probably thinks he was being jealous back there. As if. No guy wants to look like his girlfriend is cheating on him, that’s all.] I blinked slowly, forcing down the stinging sensation in my nose. The comments were right. He really did drive the new girl home. And he even let her put that cat plushie—a reminder of something he disliked—right in his line of sight. At this rate, it wouldn’t be long before Alex asked me to leave. I sniffled, quietly scooting a little farther away from him. 5 If we were going to break up, I didn’t want it to be a complete mess. So that evening, after eating the dinner Alex had cooked, I waited until he was busy in his study. Then, I secretly started moving my things from his bedroom into the guest room. I didn’t bother him while he worked, didn’t pester him to come to bed early to keep me company like I used to. After my shower, I climbed into the guest bed alone and pulled the covers up over my head. My feet were cold. Maybe from now on, there would be no one to warm them for me. As my mind wandered, there was a knock on the door. I shot up, startled. Opening the door, I hid my body behind it, poking just my head out. “Alex? Do you need something?” He blocked the door with his foot, his gaze unreadable and intense. He did not look happy. “Why did you move in here?” I avoided his eyes and mumbled, “I wanted to sleep by myself.” Alex’s brow lowered, his stare pinning me to the spot. The temperature in the hallway seemed to drop a few degrees. “Why?” he asked, his voice cool. I knew moving rooms so suddenly was strange. Staring at the floor, I recited the excuse I’d prepared. “Well… you said before that I’m a restless sleeper. I was afraid I was bothering you, so I thought I’d move out for a bit and try to fix the habit.” “We’ll sleep together,” he said instantly. “I’ll help you fix it.” His words made the tips of my ears burn. It was such a simple sentence, but coming from his deep, clear voice, it felt incredibly intimate. My mind flashed back to all those nights we’d spent tangled together. He never wore a shirt to bed, and I loved the heat of his bare chest against my back as he held me. But I was the one who forced him to do that. I was always the one demanding he hold me from behind as we slept. He probably hated it. A wave of guilt washed over me. But before I could answer, he reached out and took my hand. I flinched back as if I’d been shocked, pulling my hand away. His expression darkened. I steadied myself, my lips pressed into a nervous line, and quietly refused. “No, it’s okay. I think I’m fine sleeping alone. I… I just want some personal space.” Alex watched me for a long moment, then nodded. “…Fine. As long as you don’t regret it.” 6 It was the weekend, so both Alex and I were home. He did something he never did: he invited me to the media room to watch a movie. A thriller. I hesitated. If I was in the same room with him, I knew my fear and old habits would kick in. I’d end up trying to burrow into his arms. But Alex hated that kind of physical contact. Whenever we watched movies before, I always had to beg and plead for ages before he’d finally let me curl up against him. And even then, he’d sit ramrod straight. If there was a kissing scene, he’d gently push me away. “It’s… getting a little warm in here,” he’d murmur. Once, I reached up to touch his face, and he flinched away like he’d been burned. Before I could ask what was wrong, he was making an excuse to go to the bathroom, desperate to get away from me. Love is in the details. So is the lack of it. Remembering all that, I shook my head, my heart aching as I turned him down. “Maybe not…” Just then, the doorbell rang. I seized the opportunity to escape, scrambling to answer it. Standing on the doorstep was a girl I’d never seen before. Her hands were behind her back, and she gave me a bright, sunny smile. “Hi! I’m looking for Alex.” I blinked. [Aaaah, it’s our female lead!] [She’s so pretty when she smiles! She has so much life in her. Her and Alex are a perfect match.] [She came all the way here to put the side character in her place, right?] Reading the comments, I instinctively took a step back and called into the house, my voice a little shaky. “A-Alex, someone’s here for you.” A moment later, Alex appeared at the door, dressed in lounge clothes. The girl, Grace, brought her hands forward, revealing a soft, fluffy white pillow. A pair of adorable dimples appeared in her cheeks as she spoke, her voice gentle. “I heard you weren’t sleeping well, so I picked out one that’s supposed to help with sleep.” Alex took it, his face unreadable. “Thanks.” They chatted for another minute. I just stood there, my legs feeling like they were filled with lead. [Does anyone else get the subtle genius of her gift? A pillow is intimate, but not too forward, and it hits his exact problem!] [Our girl is so thoughtful and knows her boundaries.] [If I remember correctly, the pillow he’s using now is one the side character bought him, right? It’s about to be replaced.] [That’s how it’s done! First, you replace her things, then you replace her.] I lowered my eyes, about to slip away unnoticed. But then, Grace called out to me, her eyes curving into a smile. “You must be Alex’s girlfriend, right? You’re so beautiful. By the way, my name is Grace. I love cats, too.” I was confused. Before I could say anything, Alex was already ushering her out the door. He disappeared into the bedroom and came back out holding another pillow—the one I had bought him. He handed it to me, his expression neutral. “You don’t have a pillow in your room, do you? Use this one.” He paused, then added, “This one’s more comfortable.” I stared at it for a moment before my hand moved to take it. A bitter taste filled my mouth as I forced the word out. “…Okay.” The comments were right again. He’d chosen the pillow Grace gave him and returned mine. He even came up with a ready-made excuse, probably afraid I’d make a scene. I knew this was just the beginning. I practically fled back to my room. 7 I stayed in my room all day. Alex knocked a few times, asking what was wrong, but I just brushed him off with excuses. Later, the doorbell rang again. It was Jax, dropping off a contract for me from our boss. But when the door opened, he was met with Alex’s thunderous expression. Alex was in the middle of making dinner, his sleeves rolled up. “Sophie’s busy. You can give it to me.” Then he added dismissively, “You can go now if you’re done. I’m a busy man. After all, not every guy knows his way around a kitchen like I do.” Jax scratched his head, peering past Alex into the house. “You need cooking skills to heat up takeout?” Alex’s face got even darker. He was practically shoving Jax out the door. “Sophie and I have some… private things to take care of.” In reality, the “private thing” he was talking about was just him rubbing my stomach because I’d eaten too much. After dinner, I don’t remember when I fell asleep. When I woke up again, I knew what I had to do. I found Alex in the laundry room, washing my underwear. A pink scrap of lace was being gently kneaded between his fingers. My face instantly flushed crimson. Pushing down the flutter in my chest, I walked over to him and spoke slowly. “Alex, I want to move out.” His hands stopped. He was silent for a long moment. Maybe it was my imagination, but it seemed like he started scrubbing with more force. “Weren’t you scared of living alone?” “Is it because of…” He didn’t lift his head, his voice low and raspy. He never finished the sentence. I couldn’t admit I’d lied to him before. “I can learn to get over it,” I mumbled. He kept his focus on washing my things, saying nothing. I followed him as he moved to hang them up, a nervous knot in my stomach. I couldn’t tell what I wanted more—for him to agree, or for him to say no. So I asked again. “Can I?” After hanging the last piece, Alex finally turned to look at me. His dark eyes were like bottomless pits. He ground his teeth, and his voice was cold. “If you’re already planning to leave, what do you need a boyfriend for? We might as well just break up.” I froze on the spot. The comments, however, exploded with joy. [This is what he’s really been thinking, isn’t it? He’s wanted to break up with her for ages.] [About time she got the hint.] [Go, go, go! Make room for our female lead!]

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At my father’s funeral, my fiancé proposed to my father’s illegitimate daughter, projecting a video of their passionate affair for all to see. I became a laughingstock, a disgrace to the city’s entire elite circle. In the midst of my fury, my fiancé’s older brother, Sebastian Beaumont, appeared. He had them both removed from the grounds, then knelt before me on one knee. He proposed, promising to be my rock, to shield me from the world. I said yes. Three years after my father passed, just one week before our wedding, I accidentally overheard a conversation between him and his lawyer. “Mr. Beaumont, there are other ways to acquire the Ashford assets. Is it not too risky to marry Adelaide Ashford just to reclaim her inheritance for Miss Isla? Why sacrifice yourself?” “Marriage is the only way Adelaide will let her guard down. All Isla wants is to inherit the Ashford legacy rightfully. It’s a small price to pay. For her, I’d do anything.” So, what I thought was my salvation was just an elaborate trap. The marriage I had anticipated for three years was just another tomb. If that’s what they wanted, then I would be the one to give it to them. 1 In the study, Sebastian was smiling at a stack of share transfer agreements, his expression one of pure devotion. “Mrs. Ashford is gravely ill. Isla will certainly want her to be at the wedding before she passes. Once she’s gone, the Ashford family will crumble. That’s when Adelaide will beg for my help, and that will be my moment to step in.” “Are all the agreements ready? There can be no mistakes. I need the entire Ashford Corporation in my hands. Once I’ve cleared all the obstacles, I’ll hand the company over to Isla.” The lawyer beside him looked at the mountain of paperwork, a flicker of pity in his eyes. “Isla is just the illegitimate daughter. Isn’t this too cruel to Miss Ashford? She has fallen in love with you over these three years. If she finds out you’re only marrying her to seize the family business for her half-sister, you two—” Sebastian cut him off, his voice cold. “Enough. I’ve told you, Isla is the second daughter of the Ashford family. If I hear you call her an illegitimate daughter again, you’re fired.” He continued, “Marrying Adelaide is also a form of compensation. Without the Ashford fortune, she’ll still have me. Her life won’t be difficult.” “My little brother… he’s always liked to compete with me for everything. Since Isla chose him, I’ll pave the way for them. As long as they’re happy, I don’t care what happens to me.” The lawyer sighed and nodded reluctantly. “Very well. I’ll double-check the agreements. I just hope… you don’t regret this.” “Oh, and that video you had me play at the funeral three years ago? Remember to delete it. Don’t let Miss Ashford find out.” Footsteps approached. I fled back to my room in a daze. The hot tea in my hands sloshed over my skin, but a profound chill seeped into my bones, colder than any ice. So, the video at my father’s funeral wasn’t my fiancé, Finn’s, doing at all. It was orchestrated by his brother, the man who had masqueraded as my savior. When Finn abandoned me, making me a public spectacle at my own father’s memorial, Sebastian’s arrival wasn’t to bring me happiness. It was to drive the final knife in. I remembered my mother, on her sickbed, entrusting me to him. He had beaten his chest, swearing to protect me. What a performance. All these years, he’d “helped” me manage my company, but it was all part of his scheme to hand it to Isla on a silver platter. And I, like a fool, had paraded his pathetic, feigned affection everywhere, boasting about my happiness. How utterly laughable. The front door clicked shut; the lawyer had left. Sebastian rushed to my room, cupping my face in his hands and pressing a kiss to my forehead. His eyes, hazy with drink, were filled with a manufactured concern. “Why are you just standing here in the doorway?” “It’s nothing. I was going to bring you some tea, but I spilled it.” “You should let the maids handle that. You’re already exhausted from taking care of your mother at the hospital. I’d be heartbroken if you wore yourself out.” With that, he kissed my lips. His touch was as gentle and loving as it had always been. But I couldn’t feel any warmth from him anymore. To think a person could go to such lengths for someone else. As I closed my eyes, a tear escaped and slid down my cheek. I helped him to the bed and tucked him in. He was already drunk and fell asleep quickly. I sat on the edge of the bed and quietly picked up his phone. I only had to try the password once. It unlocked immediately. It was my sister Isla’s birthday. I opened his chat with her. The screen was a dense, unending scroll of confidential company files. He had been sending them since the day my father died three years ago, without missing a single day. Every project he oversaw, he sent the files to Isla for her to “familiarize” herself. Every deal he closed, he sent her the client information to pave her way. He’d even had the company transfer contracts drafted three years ago, just waiting for my mother to die so I would hand over control to him. My hand trembled as I opened his private photo album. Every single picture was of Isla smiling. Isla attending events as the wife of the younger Mr. Beaumont. Isla celebrating a successful project with Finn. Finn looked so much like his brother; you could almost mistake him for Sebastian in the photos. There were also records of countless jewelry purchases from high-end auctions. He bought them all in his name, as her brother-in-law, and sent them to her as “gifts from an elder.” His hidden love was both subtle and ostentatious, tucked into every detail. It was a dagger twisting in my heart. I recognized some of those jewelry brands. They were the cheap promotional items the auction houses handed out as freebies. He had given them to me, calling them “presents.” I let out a bitter, self-mocking laugh and stopped scrolling. I sent a single message to the company’s board members, calling for an emergency meeting in three days to announce my official takeover as CEO. It was time for him to repay the debt he had amassed over the last three years. I didn’t sleep a wink. At dawn, I went to wash up. A notification pinged from the work group chat on my phone. Sebastian saw it and his face paled with panic. “Adelaide? Since when are you interested in company business? Your mother isn’t well. Didn’t we agree I’d manage things for you? Don’t worry about it. If you get worn out, she’ll blame me for not taking good care of you.” I took the phone from his hand, a cool smile playing on my lips. “It’s nothing. I must have accidentally turned on notifications. I’ll turn it off.” “Don’t you have a meeting for that new project today? You should get going.” He didn’t question it further, visibly relieved. He pulled me into a lingering embrace. “Thank you for being so understanding, my love. I need to push these projects forward so we can focus on the wedding.” I said nothing, just looked down and silenced my phone. “On your way to the hospital, could you pick up the catering I ordered from the hotel? You’ve gotten so thin lately.” “Of course. I’ll bring some for Mom to try.” My mother had been in the hospital for a year. He had hired a team of professional nurses, claiming he didn’t want me to overwork myself. I once thought it was a sign of his love. Now I saw it for the dereliction it was. If he truly cared, how could he have only visited twice in an entire year? All her care and treatment were delegated to others. He had truly put in a monumental effort to keep me from bothering his precious Isla. This three-year charade was about to end. I rushed to the hospital. Before I even reached my mother’s room, I heard the nurses whispering in the hallway. “The Ashfords are one of the city’s top families, right? How come Mrs. Ashford has been here for a year and still hasn’t had surgery? When I changed her drip, she looked like she was fading fast. You’d think the family would be more concerned…” “Shh, don’t ask questions you shouldn’t. The Beaumonts gave the order. Even the hospital director has to keep quiet. It looks like they don’t want to save her, just drag it out. They swapped her actual medication for a glucose drip. She’s not going to make it.” “Probably won’t last another couple of days, right? This family is ruthless. All that money and they won’t even save one of their own…” Tears streamed down my face as I burst into my mother’s room. Her once healthy complexion had turned waxen and pale in just a few days. How had I, who saw her every day, not noticed until now? The monitors beside her bed were beeping frantically. Her breathing grew faint. Even on the brink of death, she was still thinking about my wedding. She gripped my hand, her voice barely a whisper. “Adelaide… I don’t think I’ll be able to see your wedding.” “Sebastian is a good man. After I’m gone, he’ll take care of you. Could you… could you call him for me? I want to say a few words to him…” I sobbed as I pulled the blanket over her. I ran out to find a doctor. But when the doctor came, he just shook his head helplessly. He said my mother’s condition had deteriorated too much, that her body was too weak for surgery now. He told me to start preparing for her funeral. Swallowing my rage, I drove to Sebastian’s office. Before I even entered, I heard Isla’s voice from inside. “Sebastian, you’ve helped me so much these past three years. But Mrs. Ashford is still alive. If you put me in charge of this project, Adelaide will surely be angry.” Sebastian’s voice was heavy with a sorrowful, repressed tone. “You’re my sister-in-law. It’s my duty to help you. Just sign it. You need to get used to the business sooner or later. As for Mrs. Ashford… she probably doesn’t have much time left. Don’t worry about her.” A flash of triumph crossed Isla’s eyes before she replaced it with a look of concern. “Mom’s not doing well? Then I’ll go see her at the hospital today. Even though she never acknowledged me as her daughter, I still want to earn her forgiveness.” I could no longer contain the fury burning in my chest. I threw the door open. “You can keep your fake sympathy. My mother doesn’t want to see you.” Panic flickered across Sebastian’s face. He shot up and came to me. “What are you doing here? Don’t misunderstand. I was just discussing the new project with Isla, that’s all. She was just speaking casually, don’t overthink it.” Isla stood up, waving at me with a smile. “Sister, long time no see.” I didn’t spare her another glance. I turned and walked away. Sebastian chased after me, desperately trying to explain. Looking at his frantic expression, I felt a wave of derision. He had humiliated me at my father’s funeral to clear a path for Isla. Now, he had my mother’s life on his hands. He had gotten everything he wanted. Who was this act for? “Don’t worry,” I said coolly. “I’m not so petty as to meddle in the Beaumont family business. I was on my way to the hospital and just stopped by to see you. Since you’re busy, I’ll be on my way.” He let out a sigh of relief and personally escorted me downstairs. On the way to the hospital, I got a call from the doctor. He told me my mother had just passed away. I slammed on the brakes, screeching to a halt on the side of the road. Anger and despair churned within me. After a long struggle, I turned the car around and went back to the Ashford estate to pack up my mother’s belongings. I had just finished filling a box when Isla suddenly appeared before me. She kicked the box over with her foot. My mother’s keepsakes scattered across the floor. Her smile was wild and triumphant. “Adelaide, after all these years, you’re still as useless as ever. You couldn’t protect your mother, you can’t protect your family’s company, and even the two men you’ve loved have paved the way for me. You’re a joke!” A fire ignited in my chest. I couldn’t hold back any longer and slapped her across the face. I hadn’t used much force, but she went tumbling down the steps dramatically. The lunchbox she was holding clattered against her, its contents spilling all over her. I stood frozen, unable to process what had happened. Suddenly, a figure rushed past me and shoved me violently to the ground. Sebastian scooped Isla into his arms, his eyes blazing with fury as he looked at me. “What are you doing? Are you insane? Isla was just trying to bring your mother some soup out of kindness! Why would you attack her? She’s your sister!” His eyes were filled with a rage that completely eclipsed any trace of the love he once pretended to have. I smiled, a cold, sharp curve of my lips, and slowly got to my feet. “My sister? Does she deserve that title?” “Why did my mother’s health decline so suddenly? What was that video at the funeral all about? Sebastian, don’t you two owe me an explanation? What right do you have to question me?” He frowned, a flicker of panic in his eyes. “Your mother was already in poor health. I arranged for her hospitalization, and I was the one who deleted the video. What is there to explain? You already know all this.” “But none of that gives you the right to attack your sister!” “Adelaide, apologize! Or I will call the hospital right now and cancel all of your mother’s remaining treatments!” His shouting drew the attention of neighbors. This was a wealthy neighborhood, a hotspot for the city’s elite. I laughed, but tears streamed down my face against my will. “Cancel her treatments? Fine. Go ahead. I don’t need your fake kindness anymore. Not now, not ever!” As I spoke, Isla’s hand crept up to his shoulder. “Sister, no matter how angry you are, you can’t joke about Mom’s health!” “I know you blame me for the scene at the funeral, and I’m sorry. But I was only here today to apologize to her. I meant no harm. Why would you be so cruel to me?” she sobbed. “Sebastian, since my sister hates me so much, maybe we shouldn’t see each other anymore. I don’t want to make things difficult for you…” My nails dug into my palms, drawing blood. Watching them walk away, wrapped in each other’s arms, I knew. We were finished. Three years of love turned to ash in that single moment. I took out my phone and sent him a message: The wedding is off. Five hours later, he finally replied with an explanation. “Isla is my sister-in-law, and many of the company’s projects are in her hands. Hurting her in public was bad for the Ashford family’s image. Asking you to apologize was just a strategic move, an act for outsiders. Don’t read too much into it.”

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My best friend was a bohemian soul, a girl who claimed to breathe only for freedom. After getting pregnant by a billionaire CEO, she insisted on running away to hide the baby. I urged her to stay. Her tone was ice-cold. “I refuse to be a man’s plaything. Give me liberty, or give me death.” But she had no idea how brutal life was for a single mother. She didn’t know that in the real world, ruthless billionaires don’t drop to their knees to grovel for a runaway lover. In our last life, I couldn’t bear to see her suffer. I talked until my throat bled, convincing her to stay. The CEO didn’t hesitate to put a ring on her finger. Yet, even draped in diamonds, she still acted like a tragic bird in a gilded cage. She threw constant tantrums. She staged elaborate suicide attempts to test his love. Eventually, she set the mansion on fire. As the flames roared, she was carried out safely. I was the collateral damage left behind to burn. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the exact day she decided to run away. 1 “Riley, stop trying to talk me out of it. I’ve made up my mind.” “I won’t be Victor’s little canary. There’s no freedom in that house.” “I’m going to Europe. I’ll raise this baby on my own.” Standing outside the private clinic, my best friend Daphne faced me. She looked down, gently resting a hand on her perfectly flat stomach. Her eyes were distant, carrying that signature aloofness she wore like a crown. The doctor had just confirmed she was three months pregnant. The father was my boss. She could have easily used this child to secure her place in high society. Instead, her very first instinct was to run. In my past life and this one, I could never wrap my head around her logic. Was a life of absolute luxury by a billionaire’s side really that terrible? Why was she so desperate to go starve in a foreign country? She was soft, incapable of heavy lifting, and completely unequipped for the real world. Surviving alone abroad would be a nightmare. More importantly, she had no passport, no visa, and couldn’t speak a word of a foreign language. Even buying groceries would be a struggle. In my last life, I laid all these harsh truths out for her. It only fueled her stubbornness. “I’ll find a way. I know people who can get me across the border unnoticed.” “Once I’m there, I’ll wash dishes. I’ll support myself.” “You care too much about money, Riley. You’ll never understand. Even if I die in the gutters of a foreign street, I will never be his caged pet. Give me liberty, or give me death!” Back then, my head throbbed watching her play the misunderstood heroine. I begged and pleaded until she finally agreed to stay with Victor Sinclair. Victor didn’t want the mother of his child to suffer any indignity. He married her immediately. After she gave birth, he even stepped back from his empire, spending months solely focused on her and the baby. To the outside world, she was living a fairy tale. But it was never enough for her. She spent her days weeping by the window, complaining to anyone who would listen that she had no freedom. When she got bored, she started playing with death. Slashing her wrists. Swallowing pills. Threatening to jump from the balcony. She was saved every single time. Until one evening, she insisted I cook her favorite meal. While I was in the third floor prep kitchen preparing her specialized dietary plan, she set the house ablaze. The rescue team arrived and pulled her out immediately. I was trapped. A burning beam from the ceiling collapsed, crushing my skull. I blacked out. Later, as a ghost hovering in the smoke filled air, I saw Daphne sitting safely on the grass, looking utterly bored with the world. When the firefighters asked if anyone else was inside, she kept her mouth shut. She stared blankly ahead as if she had no earthly tethers left. She knew exactly where I was. One word from her, and they would have rushed up to save me. But she said nothing. She just watched the crew spray water onto the inferno, layer by layer. By the time they found me, I was nothing but ash. Now, the smell of suffocating smoke still felt raw in my throat as I blinked and stared at her face. “Riley? Why aren’t you saying anything?” Daphne waved a hand in front of my eyes, waiting for my usual panicked response. I took a deep, shaky breath, forcing the violent tremors in my hands to stop. Since she loved freedom so much, fine. This time, I wouldn’t stand in her way. I looked her dead in the eye and spoke slowly. “It’s your life. You have to make your own choices. I can’t decide for you.” “I knew you wouldn’t understand… wait, what?” Daphne choked on her words. A flash of genuine shock broke through her icy facade. The self righteous speech she had prepared died in her throat. “You aren’t going to try and stop me?” I couldn’t hold back a bitter laugh. “Why would I waste my breath? You’re an adult. If you want to leave, who am I to tie you down?” Go ahead, Daphne. I really wanted to see how a girl who hadn’t even finished high school was going to conquer the world abroad. 2 “So, when are you leaving?” I asked. Victor was due back from his business trip in three days. If she didn’t run now, she’d miss her window. She tilted her chin up, her gaze drifting to the sky. “There is no rush. I need to make some preparations.” Daphne’s idea of “preparations” was packing up every single item she owned in the mansion. Well, almost everything. She deliberately left behind a few pieces of her most intimate lingerie. A silk nightgown tucked into the corner of his study. A lace bralette draped near the dressing room door. A delicate slip left in the private gym. Places where Victor’s hands would naturally graze. It was a calculated setup, designed to make him ache with longing every time he saw them. “I’ve sorted everything. I might have left a few things behind. Victor will probably just throw them away when he sees them.” She feigned complete indifference, shrugging her shoulders. Finally, the day before Victor’s return, Daphne headed to the docks. Her grand plan to go abroad was paying a shady fixer to sneak her onto an unregistered cargo ship. When I found out, I was speechless. She stood by the pier holding a tiny, vintage leather suitcase, wearing a pristine white floral dress, waving goodbye to me as the sea breeze caught her hair. It looked like a beautifully framed shot from a romance movie. A second later, a massive, sweaty dockworker shoved his way into the frame, glaring at her. “You’re wearing that fancy crap to squeeze into a shipping container? It smells like rotting fish and piss in there. A fragile little thing like you won’t last a day.” Daphne raised her chin even higher. Her voice was crystal clear. “For the sake of my soul’s freedom, physical hardship means nothing.” The worker rolled his eyes and muttered under his breath. “Sneaking out on a freighter for freedom. Chick’s got rocks in her head.” He was right. By choosing this dark, illegal route, she was condemning herself to live like a rat in the shadows. But she clearly had no concept of the brutal reality awaiting her. Just before boarding, she played her final dramatic card. “Take this black card back to Victor for me. Make sure you tell him that a free spirit can never be bought with money…” Before she could finish her monologue, I snatched the sleek metal card right out of her fingers. “The ship is leaving. Text me if you have anything else to say.” Daphne’s hand froze mid air. She stared at her empty fingers, then up at me. Her expression cracked, looking genuinely bewildered for a split second. She definitely didn’t expect me to take the card so easily. In the past, terrified she would starve, I would have begged her to keep it. She forced a stiff smile. “I guess… I really am leaving now.” She kept looking back over her shoulder as she walked up the ramp. I ignored her theatrical lingering. I turned on my heel and walked away fast, terrified she might actually change her mind and chase after me. The next day, Victor returned from his trip. I prepared his customized nutritional dinner, just like always. Casually, I mentioned that Daphne had packed up and left. Victor sliced his steak. His expression didn’t even flicker. In my previous life, once he knew about the pregnancy, he instantly dragged her to meet his parents and gave her his name. This time, hearing she had abandoned him, he didn’t lift a finger to chase her. That was Victor Sinclair. If you were his woman, he would drown you in wealth and luxury. But the moment you decided to walk away, he wouldn’t even blink. As his private nutritionist for the past five years, I knew exactly how he operated. Daphne was just too blind to see it. 3 The intimate items Daphne left behind were found by the housekeeper within two days. They went straight into the trash. The limited edition silk slip was the only exception. The housekeeper was too afraid to toss something so expensive and brought it to Victor for instructions. Victor was reviewing a stack of contracts. He didn’t even look up. “If it’s garbage, throw it out.” There was zero lingering affection. Zero heartache. Daphne’s pathetic little mind games were tossed out with yesterday’s trash. A few days later, a new face appeared at the estate. Her name was Stella. She was vibrant, radiant, and the exact opposite of Daphne. She loved to talk. Wherever Victor went, she followed, chattering away with a bright smile. And Victor, a man notoriously obsessed with absolute silence, never once looked annoyed. He never had this much patience with Daphne in my last life. I couldn’t help but root for them. That was when Daphne made her first overseas call. “Riley, how is Victor holding up? Is he going crazy looking for me?” “You have to swear you won’t tell him where I am. Promise me.” I glanced toward the living room, where Victor was chuckling at something Stella said. I decided to be honest. “You don’t need to worry. He’s busy entertaining a new woman. He doesn’t have time to look for you.” Dead silence on the other end. Then, a soft, dismissive scoff. “Heh. I’ve only been gone a week, and he’s already desperately searching for a replacement?” Before I could speak, she kept going. “Does she look like me? Is it the eyes? Or the way she smiles?” “Victor is just trying to distract himself. Give it three days. He’ll be sick of her.” I didn’t have the energy to argue. “Yeah, sure. Whatever you say.” Satisfied, she hung up. But three days passed, and then another three. Stella was still practically living at the mansion. Even the heavy curtains in the master suite were swapped out for a bright, sunny fabric she preferred. Every last trace of Daphne was being systematically scrubbed clean, replaced by vibrant colors. When Daphne called again, I was preparing afternoon tea for Victor and Stella. Stella’s infectious laughter echoed clearly through the phone’s receiver. Daphne paused. Her voice carried a faint, barely disguised edge of panic. “That replacement is still there?” My stomach tightened. Was Daphne going to change her mind and come back to fight for her spot? “Victor is so childish. Does he really think parading another woman around will force me back?” “I am a wild hawk. I belong to the sky. I won’t clip my own wings just to orbit a man like those pathetic girls.” Exhale. I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. For a second there, I thought she had actually grown a brain. Luckily, she was still choking on her own ego. I relaxed completely. I had zero intention of telling her that Stella wasn’t a replacement at all. She was Victor’s first love. I had only just found out myself. Victor and Stella had dated in college but were forced apart because their family backgrounds didn’t match at the time. Stella was sent abroad to study by the Sinclair family. They had been separated for seven years. In the previous life, by the time Stella returned, Victor was already married to Daphne. Because of his sense of duty, he kept his distance. Stella, having fierce boundaries of her own, never crossed the line. There wasn’t a hint of infidelity. But this time, there was no Daphne in the way. I knew it was only a matter of time before they rekindled the flame. Blissfully unaware, Daphne remained convinced that Victor couldn’t breathe without her. Her tone shifted back to that annoying, airy arrogance. “Tell that poor girl not to get her hopes up.” “I don’t mean any harm. As a fellow woman, I just pity her. What’s the point of being someone’s shadow? She should leave before she gets her heart broken.” 4 I reached out to Brooke, an old friend who ran a restaurant in Europe, and asked her to keep tabs on Daphne. Daphne was an undocumented immigrant with no working papers. With her complete lack of skills, the only job she could possibly land was scrubbing dishes in an underground kitchen. The expat community is small. As long as Daphne walked into a restaurant in that district, word would reach me. Until Victor and Stella were officially locked in, I needed to make sure Daphne stayed far, far away. For the next few days, Daphne didn’t call. Instead, she was busy curating her social media feed, posting aesthetic collages of her new European life. She always idolized everything foreign, convinced the air overseas was somehow purer. Mutual friends flooded the comments with envy. [Wow! Did you move abroad for work?] [Just starting a new chapter, nothing major.] [What kind of work?] [Oh, just diving into the culinary industry.] [That’s amazing! You must be managing a high end bistro! I have to visit you!] [Stop, it’s just a little passion project.] She deflected the questions flawlessly, keeping up her humble, artsy persona. But reading those replies now, the suffocating stench of her vanity was overwhelming. Not long after, Brooke called with an update. She sounded entirely baffled. “Riley, did you really grow up in the same foster home as this girl?” “She is completely useless. She shatters plates, leaves grease on the pans, and complains about the water ruining her hands. She’s been fired from three different places in under a month.” “No one in the district wants to hire her anymore.” Exactly as expected. We did grow up in the foster system together, but she always acted like a deposed princess. She refused to lift a finger, playing the delicate flower while I fought our battles and handled the dirty work. Her entire life had been shielded from consequence. She was basically a spoiled aristocrat without the trust fund. That was why I fought so hard to stop her in our last life. I knew she couldn’t handle the grind. Without Victor’s money and my constant care, she would drown. And here she was, sinking fast. Brooke had a soft heart. She couldn’t stomach the thought of a pregnant woman sleeping on the streets, so she offered Daphne a lifeline. “I took her in as a waitress. She’s over six months pregnant. If I don’t give her a shot, she won’t survive the winter here.” Waitressing was miles better than slaving away in a dish pit, and she could actually earn tips. I didn’t object, but I gave Brooke a strict warning. “Do not tell her we know each other.” Dying and coming back to life had opened my eyes. Daphne was a parasite who only drained the people closest to her. If she knew Brooke was my friend, she would milk her dry. Meanwhile, back at the estate, Victor and Stella’s romance was brewing. But it was agonizingly slow. It had been over a month, and they were still in the hand holding phase. Neither wanted to cross the line first. If they weren’t in a rush, I was! So, on a perfectly quiet evening, I orchestrated a breathtakingly romantic candlelight dinner on the terrace. Maybe it was the expensive vintage wine. Maybe the moonlight was just right. That night, Stella pulled Victor into the master bedroom by his tie, and the door didn’t open until late the next morning. The ship had finally sailed!

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My husband is a man of great prestige, a distinguished professor of medicine. When our tour bus flipped, his first instinct was to shield the young female student sitting in the row ahead of us. I was left behind, critically injured, clinging to life. When I finally woke up, he was tending to me while correcting his favorite student’s research paper. “Don’t overthink it, Riley. I just appreciate her talent.” He didn’t even look up. “Abigail just published three international papers; she has a brilliant future ahead of her. She was the one who performed your surgery. It was flawless.” Mentioning his star pupil, his eyes—usually cold and detached—warmed with pride. He had no idea. Because just a moment ago, the System had told me: his “brilliant” student had left a fatal, rotting surgical sponge inside my abdomen. 1 The System warned me about the sponge while Ross was peeling an apple for me. “Thank god we caught it early,” the System sighed. “If you have a re-operation now, you’ll survive. It’ll just be a bit painful.” “If you don’t want to go through another surgery, you could also choose to reload your save to before the accident.” I didn’t answer immediately. I watched silently as the silver fruit knife danced between his elegant, long fingers. I wasn’t allowed to eat yet, and my cravings were driving me mad. Ross would peel apple after apple from the basket, holding them up for me to smell, endlessly patient. The hospital had assigned me a private nurse, but Ross had refused her. “Who else could tolerate your temper besides me?” He smiled, placing a piece of apple under my nose. The sweet, crisp scent drifted into my lungs. I felt a dull ache deep in my gut. I frowned. “Did the surgeon who operated on me not perform a post-op check?” For safety, that should have been standard procedure. Ross’s long, thick lashes paused. “I had that step skipped.” I blinked. “Why?” He looked at me, his eyes filled with a sudden, sharp pity. “Post-op checks prolong the anesthesia. You’re weak; the faster the surgery ends, the better.” “Besides, your surgery was performed by Abigail. She’s meticulous. She wouldn’t make a low-level mistake like that.” 2 Right. Abigail. Ross’s favorite doctoral candidate. She had immense talent and stellar grades. For the past few years, no matter what surgery Ross performed, he dragged her along. They were a fixture together, often joked about in the department as the “Power Duo.” Abigail had assisted in several major operations, and they had all gone smoothly. But I still found it laughable. “Ross, for a life-or-death major surgery, you dared to let a student handle it alone?” I knew that as the hospital’s most authoritative surgeon and a national professor, he had the power to do that, even if it bent the rules. “What if she messed up? What if I died? Did you think about that at all?” He chuckled, as if I’d said something absurd. “How could I ever let you die?” He flicked my nose gently. “Do you think I’ve spent all these years in clinical research just to watch you fade away? I want us to grow old together.” “I told you, Abigail is a one-in-a-million surgical genius. The fact remains, she didn’t disappoint me. She performed your surgery perfectly.” His tone was absolute, laced with a faint, maddening arrogance. True. That surgery had made Abigail famous overnight. She had pulled me back from the gates of hell in record time. The news had even reported on it, praising Abigail as the “Rising Star of Surgery.” Ross was hailed as the visionary mentor, and his reputation reached even higher heights. After hesitating, I gripped his hand. “Please, just perform a check yourself. Just call it a follow-up exam.” “Don’t be ridiculous.” Ross stood up, and the warmth in his eyes hardened into frost. “Surgeries aren’t just something you do for fun.” He softened his tone a moment later. “Do you trust me so little? Why would I ever want you to suffer through another operation?” I stared at him. “But Abigail…” He cut me off firmly. “She is my student. I won’t allow anyone to question her skill. The surgery she performed is flawless.” I looked at him quietly. Is that right? A second later, the icy System voice chimed in my head: Detected: Host’s impending death. Do you wish to reload now? I shook my head. “Why not?” the System asked, confused. “Are you just giving up because of him?” “I’m not that stupid.” I asked coldly, “If I die, I still have a three-day window to reload, right?” “That’s correct.” I laughed softly. “Then schedule the reload for after I die.” 3 It was funny. I actually considered reloading to before the accident. The reason was simple: the day before the accident, I had found out I was three weeks pregnant. That night, Ross had been in the operating theater until dawn. I had called him, bursting with joy, but Abigail had answered. “Professor Ross is teaching me a surgery; he’s asleep in the breakroom.” I froze. “Wake him up. I have something important to tell him…” Abigail cut me off without a shred of hesitation. “He said before he went to sleep that no one is allowed to disturb him, unless it’s about my work.” Her tone was indignant. “He’s been working all day. Even if you’re his wife, shouldn’t you be a bit more considerate?” I was stunned, then let out a cold laugh. “That’s not your place to say.” Before she could react, I hung up. I’d always had trouble conceiving. But Ross loved children, always rambling on about wanting a daughter. So, this child was a miracle. When the crash happened, my first instinct was to protect my stomach. But it was too late. The baby had been torn away along with my broken flesh. Ross still didn’t know the child had ever existed. Two weeks post-op, I finally saw my stitched-up stomach. A jagged, brownish scar ran across my pale skin, sewn together with sloppy, uneven stitches. It looked like a withered branch—hideous and haunting. I looked down, my eyes stinging. Ross walked over, covering me up with a practiced, casual air, stroking my hair. “Don’t cry. To me, no one is more beautiful than you.” He teased me deliberately. “When we have our kids later, you’ll have a scar anyway. You wouldn’t skip out on having our children just to stay pretty, would you?” I pushed him away. “Abigail stitched my stomach like this. As a patient, don’t I have the right to file a complaint?” Ross’s face darkened. He knew his student’s skill. Under normal circumstances, Abigail would never stitch a wound so poorly. Unless she did it on purpose. “Great things are not accomplished by dwelling on small details,” Ross said coldly after a pause. “An occasional lapse in judgment from a genius like Abigail is… expected.” “Abigail is the most talented student I’ve taken in years. I cannot watch her potential be destroyed.” He leaned down and kissed my forehead, his tone dripping with fake warmth. “Be a good girl. Just let it go.” 4 Ross started trying to win me back. He’d bring a different kind of porridge every day, feeding me from a thermos. I’d take a few bites in front of him, and the moment he wasn’t looking, I’d dump it out in disgust. One day, he caught me in the act. He shook his head, sighing, and wiped my stained fingers. “You’ve been dumping it out for days. Still not over it?” So, he had known all along. I pulled my hand away, expressionless. “If you have time, go guide your genius student. The nurse can take care of me.” “You’re just saying things to hurt me.” Ross sighed, sounding incredibly weary. “You’re my wife. How could I let a stranger take care of you?” His voice was so tender, it felt like drowning. For a fleeting second, I felt like I was back at the beginning of our marriage. When I first joined his university as a lecturer, some of the rowdier students had tripped me, causing a severe sprain. When Ross heard, he stormed into the faculty office and beat those students to a pulp. Several ended up in the hospital, and he faced a disciplinary board. In the hospital room, Ross was bruised and swollen. I had been heartbroken, scolding him for being reckless. He just laughed, a carefree, stupid grin. “You’re my wife. Who else is going to protect you if I don’t?” … Back in the present, I whispered to him, “This is the final check-up before I’m discharged. Please, stay with me.” Ross smirked, nuzzling my cheek. “That’s more like it.” As I was being pushed into the imaging room, he held my hand tightly. But a second later, his phone rang. He answered, his voice dropping. “The lab door is locked? It’s so late. You’re in there alone?” Soft, muffled sobs drifted from the other end. He let go of my hand and strode toward the exit. “Don’t be afraid. I’m coming right over.” His shadow vanished around the corner, decisive and cold. He never once looked back. I lowered my eyes and shook my head at the nurse. “It’s fine. Continue.” This was the last chance to find the sponge. He hadn’t treasured it. I asked the System, “What is my time of death?” After a moment, the System provided a crisp answer: “Three weeks from now.” Perfect. It would be our seventh wedding anniversary. I’d have a surprise waiting for him then. 5 The day before my discharge, Abigail came to visit. She was dressed to kill, wearing a gorgeous dress that suggested Ross had been incredibly generous with her—yearly scholarships and project funding. Over the years, he’d essentially turned her into a high-fashion princess. Abigail placed a bouquet on my bedside table. “The Professor and I picked this out together. I hope you like it.” The scent hit me instantly, and I began to cough violently. The rotting sponge rubbed against my insides, making my very soul ache. She had chosen a bouquet of blooming Eustoma. And Ross knew I was allergic to Eustoma. Noticing my glare, he spoke calmly, explaining, “I warned her, but she loves Eustoma. She insisted on buying it, so I let her have her way.” “She’s just a kid who likes fancy flowers. The sentiment is what matters.” He whispered in my ear, “I’ll throw them out once she leaves.” Abigail broke into a smile, tears in her eyes. “The Professor always spoils me.” Ross sighed with fake annoyance, his gaze brimming with indulgence. “What can I do? I’m stuck with a silly student like you.” I choked on my breath, reaching out to push the vase further away. I accidentally knocked it over. Abigail’s eyes reddened; she knelt to pick up the flowers. A second later, she stumbled, her knees landing squarely on the jagged ceramic shards. Ross rushed over, scooping her up and carrying her to an empty hospital bed. He turned to look at me, his expression devoid of emotion, filled with terrifying rage. “Even if you don’t like Abigail, you don’t have to humiliate her like that.” “She’s just a student. Would it kill you to show a little restraint?” I covered my stomach, choking, and managed to whisper, “It hurts…” Ross cut me off coldly. “Stop acting. You’ve been recovered for ages.” When he said it, he seemed to realize he’d slipped up, biting his lip uncomfortably. “What I meant was… your body isn’t as weak as you think…”

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After my family went bankrupt, my father’s wealthy friend took me into the Sinclair estate. Because of this, the two Sinclair daughters entangled themselves in my life for eighteen long years. Their fierce pursuit and blatant favoritism toward me left everyone in our circle both shocked and envious. Yet, when I finally expressed my desire to settle down and start a family, both of them rejected me outright. The older sister, Victoria, adjusted her designer blazer and said she had to put her empire first and had no room for marriage. The younger sister, Audrey, laughed and told me she was still young and wanted to enjoy her freedom. She even added that fleeting romances should never be taken too seriously. But the very next day, at my own birthday gala, both of them got down on one knee and proposed to Noah, the son of the family chauffeur. To amuse him and prove their loyalty, they cornered me. Knowing full well I suffered from severe stomach ulcers, they forced me to down glass after glass of raw, burning whiskey. As I collapsed, coughing up blood from a ruptured ulcer, they simultaneously covered Noah’s eyes and mocked me for putting on a pathetic show. Lying on the stretcher as the paramedics rushed me away, my heart finally died. On the day I was discharged from the hospital, I pulled out my phone and called my father. “Dad, I’ll do it. I will marry the Kensington heiress.” 1. The biting autumn wind pierced my clothes the second I stepped out of the hospital doors. My body had not yet adjusted to the bitter chill. My phone buzzed. It was Victoria Sinclair. Her tone was sharp, dripping with misplaced resentment. “Arthur, where exactly are you hiding? Do you honestly think running away absolves you of your responsibilities? Get back here right now and apologize to Noah.” Audrey’s voice echoed through the speaker immediately after. “Your little fake illness stunt really upset him. His constitution is already delicate, and thanks to your theatrics, he hasn’t had an appetite in days!” I looked at my own reflection in the sliding glass doors. I was so haggard and emaciated that a strong gust of wind could have knocked me over. I had suffered from chronic stomach issues and a weak immune system since childhood. During all those years we spent growing up, the Sinclair sisters had moved mountains to care for me. I still remembered a night when my illness flared up violently. The estate elevators had lost power, and Victoria had carried me on her slender back up twenty flights of stairs just to get me to a doctor. Audrey used to sprint across the entire city in the pouring rain just to buy my favorite artisan pastries, desperate to see me smile. From then on, every single thing I ate or drank was strictly monitored and personally handled by the two of them. It was a beautiful illusion. But the moment Noah stepped into the picture, everything shattered. I remained completely silent and hung up the phone. Then, I dialed my father’s number. “Dad, I have thought it through. I am willing to marry Genevieve Kensington.” My father paused on the other end of the line. “Arthur, this is a lifelong commitment. Are you absolutely certain this is what you want?” Years ago, after my mother passed away and our family business collapsed, my father sent me to live in Boston while he stayed behind to hold the crumbling remains of the Pendelton family together. It took him eighteen years of blood and sweat to forge a connection with the old money of the Kensington dynasty, earning our family a chance to rise from the ashes. But compared to the revival of our legacy, he cared far more about my happiness. Even when Dowager Kensington took one look at me and decided I was the perfect match for her granddaughter, my father still placed the ultimate choice in my hands. Back then, I was naive enough to believe that true love was rare and precious. I foolishly wanted to choose between the two Sinclair sisters. Now, the veil had been lifted. I finally understood that I was nothing more than a convenient pastime for their idle boredom. I should have known my place and walked away long ago. I opened a travel app to book a flight to New York. A notification popped up at the top of my screen. It was a new social media post from Noah. The caption read that true love needed no words, and only useless parasites resorted to cheap tricks to climb the social ladder. He proudly flaunted two distinct, dazzling diamond engagement rings on his fingers. The background of the photo was my bedroom. The bespoke tailored suit and the limited edition luxury watch he wore were the exact birthday gifts Victoria and Audrey had custom ordered for me six months ago. I quietly blocked Noah’s account. “I am entirely serious, Dad. I want to settle down and have a child of my own as soon as possible.” During my hospitalization, the lead physician warned me that this recent hemorrhage had caused irreversible damage to my already fragile constitution. If I did not try to start a family while I was still relatively young, I might lose the chance forever. I simply had no time left to wait for people who did not love me. “Alright. I respect your decision, son.” My father seemed to understand the unspoken pain in my voice. He told me that Grandma Kensington had already consulted their family astrologer, and next Sunday was the perfect date to sign the marriage license. He promised to arrange absolutely everything the moment I flew back. Just before disconnecting, he added one final request. “Make sure you say a proper goodbye to Mr. Sinclair.” I looked up at the suffocating gray sky. The doctors advised a week of bed rest to recover from the internal bleeding. I decided to use this one remaining week to sever every tie and properly bid farewell to my past. 2. I took a cab back to the Sinclair estate. The moment I stepped through the wrought iron gates, a blast of freezing water hit me square in the chest, soaking me to the bone. “Oh my gosh, Arthur, I am so sorry. I was just watering the garden and didn’t even see you there.” Noah held the brass nozzle of the garden hose, keeping the icy spray trained on me until I was completely drenched before finally lowering his hand. I forced my stinging eyes open. My breath caught in my throat. The rare white lilies I had meticulously cultivated for years had been violently uprooted and trashed. In their place was a garish, overwhelming sea of blood red roses. A sharp gust of autumn wind swept past, and my newly recovering body instantly seized up in agony. A wave of dizziness washed over me, nearly sending me to my knees. Standing on the veranda, Victoria and Audrey merely exchanged a look and sneered in unison. Their eyes were filled with disgust, clearly assuming I was putting on another dramatic medical act the second I returned. “I honestly thought you actually had a spine, Arthur. I thought you would never show your face here again,” Victoria sneered. Audrey crossed her arms, her voice dripping with venom. “Where else could he possibly go? Even his own parents dumped him. He is just a stray.” A sharp, physical ache tore through my chest. I suddenly remembered my very first day at the Sinclair estate. A young Audrey had held my trembling hand, trying every silly trick she knew to make me smile. She had looked up at me with bright eyes and promised that I never had to be afraid, because this would be my home forever. Victoria had personally cleared out the grandest master suite in the ancestral manor just for me. Years later, when the three of us moved into this modern villa closer to the city center, Victoria memorized every single one of my preferences. She designed the primary bedroom down to the thread count of the sheets. She had boldly declared to high society that, now and forever, I was the irreplaceable master of this house. That was true, right up until the day Noah used the excuse of helping his father with errands to enter the villa. Every single day, aside from clinging to the sisters, his favorite hobby was pretending to accidentally shatter my belongings. At first, I pitied his poor background and let it slide. But his audacity grew. He crossed the line by deliberately smashing an antique cameo locket my mother had left me, right in front of my face. Pushed to my absolute limit, I stepped forward to confront him, only for Victoria to shove me back violently. She frowned at me in disappointment, claiming Noah’s life was already hard enough. She demanded to know why a spoiled, silver spoon aristocrat like me insisted on bullying a naive, sheltered younger boy. Audrey chimed in, reminding me that Noah was even younger than her, and told me to act my age and show some grace. Clutching the shattered pieces of my mother’s locket, I felt a suffocating sense of helplessness for the very first time. From that day forward, the entire dynamic shifted. I was no longer the sun their universe revolved around. The chauffeur’s son methodically chipped away at my existence, replacing me piece by piece. He became the new master of the villa, utilizing every manipulative tactic in the book to force me out. Since that was the case, I had absolutely nothing left to linger for. I just wanted to pack my belongings and vanish. I walked into the foyer, only to find my personal items unceremoniously dumped in a chaotic pile in the hallway. Victoria stood at the top of the stairs, her arm wrapped protectively around Noah’s waist, looking down at me like a peasant. “Learn your place, Arthur. You are nothing but a parasite leeching off the Sinclair family. You have absolutely no right to look down on Noah, and you certainly do not have the right to throw aristocratic temper tantrums at him.” She continued her decree, stating that I was to move into the servant’s quarters immediately. She announced that all my corporate responsibilities would be handed over to Noah, and she was demoting me to the logistics department to do grunt work until I learned some basic human decency. Audrey casually ripped the seams of the vintage teddy bear my father had given me, tossing the stuffing into the air just to make Noah giggle. “If you ever throw another childish fit and upset Noah again, I promise I won’t let you off the hook, Arthur.” The casual cruelty in their voices was a far cry from the tender devotion they used to show me. If the old Arthur had heard these words, he would have been too heartbroken to sleep for weeks. But I was leaving now. I had zero energy to bicker with them. I kept my voice completely flat. “You are absolutely right.” “I will move my things out immediately.” “And there is no need to trouble the CEO with a department transfer. I quit.” Victoria let out a cold, incredulous laugh. “You really are dead set on clinging to our family as a lazy, useless burden, aren’t you?” “Whatever. Out of respect for your father, I will let your insubordination slide this once.” “Just remember where you stand from now on.” I walked straight past Victoria without looking at her. “There is no ‘from now on’.” This place had indeed given me countless beautiful memories. But ultimately, it was never my home. 3. I thought packing would take hours. But as I sifted through the pile in the hallway, I realized there was hardly anything left. Almost all of my clothes had been meticulously selected by Victoria. She used to say that I was the most important person in the Sinclair family, so naturally, I deserved the finest things in the world. Now, those exquisite fabrics were soaked in foul, murky water, reeking of decay. I had transitioned from being the center of her universe to an irrelevant parasite. I pushed the ruined clothes aside and saw hundreds of polaroid photos scattered across the hardwood floor. Audrey used to be obsessed with taking pictures of me, insisting she needed to document every single version of my smile. Whenever we took a group photo, the two sisters would practically go to war over who got to press their shoulder against mine. Now, in every single photograph of the three of us, my face had been violently carved out with a box cutter. I couldn’t bear to look at the mutilated images any longer. I scooped everything up in my arms and shoved it all straight into the heavy duty trash bin. Victoria was walking down the stairs with Noah just as I let the lid slam shut. A flicker of genuine shock crossed her eyes. She knew I had treasured those items more than my own life. But within a second, her expression hardened into a mocking sneer. “You certainly don’t mind throwing away the Sinclair family’s money.” The old Victoria would drop millions without blinking just to buy me a moment of happiness. Now that Noah was by her side, every single thing I did was a sin. I had lost the privilege of being cherished, and I had lost the desire to defend myself. I looked at her with dead eyes. “I will repay every cent.” “The Sinclair family doesn’t care about your pocket change. Just remember your promise to never harass Noah again,” she snapped. Noah tugged at the hem of Victoria’s silk blouse, pouting his lips. “Victoria, please don’t waste your precious time on irrelevant people. I really want to go to the secret base to see the sea of stars. Let’s go now.” My body froze, and my footsteps halted. The secret base Noah mentioned was a magnificent glass observatory Victoria had built for me when I first arrived in Boston. Mr. Sinclair had been overwhelmed with corporate takeovers back then, so he entrusted my care to Victoria, who was six years my senior. She practically laid the wonders of the world at my feet. She constantly told me I was her eternal moonlight, the pure love she would cherish forever. She personally designed a breathtaking planetarium ceiling inside the observatory, creating an immortal sea of stars just for me. Under that glowing celestial canopy, she had looked at me with profound devotion. “Arthur, never forget this. This galaxy belongs entirely to you, just like my love.” She told me that all the rivers and mountains eventually surrendered to the sea, and her love would constantly flow toward me in the exact same way. We spent eighteen years slowly perfecting that glass sanctuary. From that night on, the scales of my heart had tipped irrevocably toward Victoria. Yet, every single time I was on the verge of choosing her, Audrey would throw a spectacular, destructive tantrum, forcing me to retreat to preserve the peace. As for now. They had found their thrilling red rose, and they had long forgotten the quiet, fading moonlight. But it was fine. I took a deep, shaky breath and forced my legs to move forward. I didn’t want either of them anymore anyway. 4. Just as I walked past Noah, he suddenly lashed out, grabbing my wrist with a vicious grip. His manicured fingernails dug deeply into my skin, dragging down my forearm and leaving a jagged, bleeding scratch. “Why won’t you even listen to me finish my sentence, Arthur? Are you that disgusted by me?” A sharp hiss of pain escaped my lips, and I forcefully yanked my arm away from his grip. Using my momentum, Noah threw his entire body backward, collapsing onto the marble floor. “Victoria, help me!” Panic seized Victoria’s face. She lunged forward, gathering Noah into her arms as if he were made of fragile glass. Before my brain could even process the movement, her hand cracked across my cheek. The resounding slap echoed through the grand foyer. Audrey, rushing in from the courtyard upon hearing the commotion, immediately screamed at me. “Arthur, why are you constantly trying to destroy him?” “Don’t you ever forget, if the Sinclair family hadn’t taken pity on you, an unwanted orphan, you would be rotting in an alleyway eating out of dumpsters right now! Your ingratitude is one thing, but biting the hand that feeds you is disgusting!” A high pitched ringing filled my ears. This was the first time in my entire life that anyone had ever struck me. My entire universe seemed to shatter into microscopic fragments in that single, agonizing second. Victoria stared at her trembling hand, then up at my swelling face, realizing she had crossed a line. “Are you… are you okay? I…” “I’m fine. I don’t blame you.” I slowly lifted my thumb and wiped the metallic tang of blood from the corner of my mouth. I truly didn’t blame her. I would consider that violent slap the final payment for the life she saved when we were young. From this moment on, all debts were settled. We owed each other absolutely nothing. Audrey, however, refused to let it go, stepping into my path to block the door. “Don’t you dare walk away. Apologize to him right now!” Her vicious glare was completely unrecognizable from the sweet girl who used to trail behind me, begging for my attention. I knew exactly how ruthless she could be. Back in high school, a boy had mocked me for being a bankrupt orphan. Audrey had orchestrated a brutal underground retaliation, and Victoria used her wealth to clean up the mess. The two sisters executed their plan flawlessly, forcing the boy’s entire family to flee Boston in disgrace. Back then, I never could have imagined that one day, they would turn those exact same venomous tactics on me. I glanced at the triumphant smirk hiding behind Noah’s fake tears and buried the storm of emotions raging in my chest. “I will never apologize. I did absolutely nothing wrong.” I had nothing left to fear from them. Even without their threats, I was already walking out the door. 5. Audrey was still seething with rage, ready to strike. Victoria, plagued by a sudden surge of guilt, stepped in front of her sister and significantly softened her tone. “Let it go. I lost my temper just now, please don’t take it to heart. When I come back from my business trip, I’ll bring you those rich chocolate truffles you love so much.” “But you have to promise me one thing. You must stop making things difficult for Noah.” A slap to the face, followed by a piece of chocolate. But she had completely forgotten. I had bleeding ulcers. Chocolate truffles triggered agonizing acid reflux for me. Years ago, in order to protect my digestive health, Victoria fired a dozen private chefs until she found one perfect enough. In the end, she stayed up for consecutive nights researching nutritional therapy, personally designing my entire dietary plan. Audrey used to hover over me every single day, tirelessly making sure I adhered to the regimen. And now, they had forgotten all of it. A draft of icy air swept through the open door, and a bone deep chill erupted from my chest, swallowing me whole. I shivered violently, suddenly remembering that the clothes plastered to my skin were still soaking wet from the freezing water. I could feel a heavy fever rapidly taking over my body. Just as the nausea hit me, Audrey intentionally shoved her shoulder hard into my chest as she walked past. “Stop faking it.” My weakened legs buckled, and I collapsed straight into the decorative mud pit by the doorway. Victoria turned her head, a flash of genuine conflict tearing through her eyes. But ultimately, she flanked Noah with her sister, and the three of them walked out, leaving me in the dirt. I lay there for a long time before I found the strength to drag myself out of the mud and call an ambulance. The attending doctor took one look at my catastrophic state and began shouting in pure frustration. “You were literally just discharged! How did you end up like this?” “Do you have a death wish? Because your body cannot handle this kind of abuse!” I didn’t dare utter a single excuse. I quietly obeyed his orders and stayed in the hospital under strict observation for several days. It wasn’t until my fever completely broke that the medical staff finally cleared me to leave. Having lost so much precious time, I had to accelerate my departure plans. I went to the corporate headquarters to formally process my resignation and say goodbye to the colleagues who had treated me well over the years. Only to discover that Noah had already fired every single one of them. The remaining employees actively avoided me like I was carrying a plague. I stood alone in the grand corporate lobby for half the day, only to be casually informed by a receptionist that Victoria and Noah had left town on a business trip. The three of them had flown to Nantucket, to the very beach I had loved most as a child. They were visiting the exact destinations I had always dreamed of seeing but never had the chance to go to. A bitter, self deprecating laugh escaped my lips. I dropped my resignation letter into the lobby trash can. I had been so stressed about how to explain my sudden departure, completely oblivious to the fact that absolutely no one cared if I existed. Now, I only had one task left. Say goodbye to Mr. Sinclair. Then I could leave this city without a single regret.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “581055”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel