Author: Momo Chan

My husband’s housekeeper killed his mother, and he made me kneel and apologize for it. The new housekeeper was a pretty little idiot. She poured drain cleaner into Dominic’s mother, Mrs. Beatrice’s washbasin. The acid hit instantly and Beatrice’s face went first, skin and flesh, and she screamed and went down. When Dominic rushed in, Melanie threw herself into his arms sobbing. “I saw it online. The formula was supposed to brighten skin and reduce wrinkles. I was just trying to help her, sir. This is all my fault…” He pulled her closer. “That’s just her bad luck. She couldn’t handle nice things. How is that your fault?” He swept a contemptuous look my way. “Get your mother cleaned up. Can’t you see you’re frightening Melanie?” “Take your grievances outside. Nobody wants to look at your face.” Melanie pulled herself up all fragile and trembling and pressed a slip of paper into my hand. A $10 funeral expense form. “The sir already said this had nothing to do with me,” she said softly. “But she was still your mother. The Bouchard household should cover a proper burial. Please, ma’am, just take it.” I laughed and threw the form in Dominic’s face. “That’s yours to keep.” His face went cold and he roared at me. “Your mom’s a nobody. A patch of dirt is more than enough for her. Melanie’s being generous. Seraphina, don’t push it.” He was already flushed with rage and then he saw the number on the form and his face twitched. Melanie scrambled to fix it. “I grabbed the wrong form. I’m so sorry, ma’am, let me get you another one. Please don’t fire me.” She rifled through her bag but I was done waiting. “You idiot. The woman still has a pulse and you’re handing me her funeral bill.” “Get out of my way. Both of you.” I called 911 with one hand and waved over Higgins, our driver, with the other to help carry Mrs. Beatrice to the car. Before I could get the door shut, Melanie grabbed the keys and dove into the driver’s seat. “I’ll drive.” She hit the gas and the car slammed into a utility pole. Mrs. Beatrice was thrown fifteen feet and the back of her head cracked against something sharp and blood came fast. The one who caused it sat crumpled on the ground crying like a lost child. “I only wanted to help. I’m so sorry, ma’am. I’m just so stupid…” I looked at Mrs. Beatrice covered in blood and my fists went tight. “No license. No permit. Melanie, that’s not stupidity. That’s attempted murder.” “Seraphina, shut your mouth.” Dominic shoved past me without a glance at his mother and crouched next to Melanie and cupped her hand where a small scratch had formed and blew on it gently, then looked back at me. “Melanie was trying to help and you’re going after her? Get over here and apologize. Now.” I stared at him. “Dominic, your mother is lying on the ground.” He didn’t hear me. His eyes were only on Melanie. The ambulance got there in time and Higgins and I waved the paramedics over. When they saw Mrs. Beatrice they rushed the stretcher out. Dominic grabbed them and stopped them cold. “Turn around.” He swept Melanie up in his arms and laid her on the stretcher meant for his mother. “Go. Now.” I threw myself in front of the ambulance doors. “Dominic, your mother is dying. How do you not see what matters here?” He stood beside Melanie and his voice didn’t waver. “You’re the one who can’t see clearly.” “Melanie is my personal housekeeper and she’s exceptional at what she does. Your mother was a nobody. She doesn’t get to take up resources meant for people who matter.” He waved his hand and two bodyguards dragged me back. Something bitter spread through my chest. That’s what she was to him. Nothing. I watched the ambulance pull away and fought against the grip on my arms and screamed. “Dominic, that is your mother.” “She drove hours to get here. Just to see you.” He went still and the look in his eyes went hollow. Dominic lost his father when he was young and it had always been just the two of them. Three years ago when the company finally took off, the first thing he did was bring Mrs. Beatrice to the city. She never fully settled in and preferred the life she knew back home and rarely stayed with us. A few days ago when the pressure at work got to him, Dominic called her just to talk and told her he missed her cooking, and the next morning she got in the car without telling anyone wanting to surprise him. What she got instead was Melanie mocking her clothes and telling her the drain cleaner would “get rid of that farmhouse smell.” Dominic’s mouth moved but before he could speak Melanie cut in, tears already forming. “It’s all my fault. I know that. But you can’t blame Dominic for something I did.”

Whatever hesitation had been in his eyes was gone. Replaced with fury. “Seraphina, are you out of your mind?” “Your mother raised a daughter like you? She deserved what she got.” The ambulance left and dust settled behind it. I drove alone and ran every red light and got Mrs. Beatrice into surgery. Then I went to pay and found the account empty, worse than empty, a million dollars in debt with my name flagged as a defaulter. The account was linked to Dominic’s. I already knew who had done it. I went straight to the top floor and found Melanie in the VIP suite. Dominic was sitting beside her hand-feeding her soup. I kept my voice level. “Melanie. Where is my money?” She shook like she’d been caught and her voice came out small. “I’m sorry, ma’am. I thought I could grow it for you so I took the savings and put them into investments but I lost everything…” “Investments. You have a nursing degree, Melanie. Not finance.” Dominic stepped in front of her. “It’s just money. I’ll transfer it right now. Leave her alone.” He sent fifty thousand on the spot. Before I could leave, Higgins stumbled into the room, face white, voice cracking. “Ma’am. Mrs. Beatrice’s organs failed. She’s gone.” My mind went blank and my legs nearly gave out. Dominic didn’t even look up. “Good. Now stop hovering and get out. You’re upsetting Melanie.” He turned to the bodyguards. “Get rid of the body before she wakes up. I don’t want her seeing that.” They moved for the door and I blocked them. “You’re not touching her.” Mrs. Beatrice wasn’t my mother by blood but she was a good woman and she treated me like a daughter from the start. I wasn’t going to let her be destroyed and do nothing. “Illegal chemicals. No license. Melanie, you are not stupid. You are a killer.” “You are going to answer for what you did.” Melanie buried herself in Dominic’s arms and wept. “That’s not true, sir. I didn’t want to hurt anyone…” He looked at me like I was something on the bottom of his shoe. “It was her time. Stop trying to drag Melanie into this.” A snap of his fingers and the bodyguards closed in and locked me in a basement with no windows. Hours later Dominic came down and stood in the doorway and looked down at me. “Melanie flew out to arrange a proper burial. She didn’t have to do that.” “The least you can do is thank her.” I looked up and he was holding his phone out, video call running. On screen Melanie was picking her way along a muddy path outside a church and pallbearers struggled behind her with the casket. Then she tripped and took two of them down with her. The casket hit the ground and caught the slope of the churchyard hill and rolled and didn’t stop until it dropped into the drainage ditch at the bottom. I had nothing left. “Dominic. You are worse than nothing.” He didn’t even look at me, just kept calling into the screen. “Melanie! Are you okay? Don’t be scared. I’m coming right now.” He turned and walked away. I let my eyes close. I wondered, when Dominic found out whose body had been desecrated, whether he’d still feel so easy about it. After they let me out I called the attending physician. “Doctor, I need a signed statement.”

I handed the documents straight to my lawyer. I was barely out of the office when something hit the back of my skull and everything went dark. When I came to my hands were bound and I was kneeling on the floor in front of Melanie. “You were going to have her arrested? Seraphina, when did you get so vicious?” Dominic glared down at me and threw a document in my face. A divorce agreement. He wanted me to walk away with nothing. The anger that rose in me was almost choking. “You’re the one who cheated, Dominic. What right do you have?” His voice came out flat and cold. “I told you to disappear. Instead you went after Melanie.” “Everything you own in this marriage goes to her. Call it damages.” He snapped his fingers and bodyguards materialized from every corner and grabbed my hands and forced them toward the signature line. I knelt on the cold floor, knees grinding against the tile. Melanie peeked out from behind him, voice soft. “She looks so pitiful, sir. I don’t need that much money…” Dominic cut her off. “Don’t. This is what she owes you. And the dowry from her family, that’s yours too.” Melanie blinked at him all wide eyes and innocence. “Thank you for standing up for me, sir.” I was gritting my teeth when the assistant walked in and said something close to Dominic’s ear. The TV clicked on. It was the attending physician. He stood in front of the camera, composed. “Seraphina’s mother-in-law died of natural illness. Seraphina is attempting to exploit that death to extort Ms. Melanie. As a physician, I will not be party to fraud.” Each word landed like something sharp. The fight went out of me and I sat on the floor. Dominic turned the TV off. “Seraphina. I told you. You can’t win against me.” The door burst open and a mob pushed in, phones out and recording. “That’s her. Cashing in on a dead woman.” Someone shoved a camera in my face and someone else threw a cup of soda and a carton of eggs came from the back. “Disgusting. She has no shame.” “Bet her mother-in-law died just to get away from her.” I got hit and went down and someone poured a drink over my head and the crowd kept filming. Dominic watched from across the room, Melanie under his arm. “This is what you get for what you did to Melanie.” He left and at the door Melanie glanced back at me, satisfied. In half a day I had become someone the whole city wanted to bury.

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My sister racked up $3 million in debt before dying in a sudden accident. At her funeral, my parents sobbed as they grabbed my hands. “We may be poor, but we aren’t soulless. Death doesn’t erase debts.” “Clara, help us out here,” Dad begged. “A soul that dies in debt can never rest!” Just like that, I handed over every penny I’d saved. Starting the next day, I worked three jobs—mornings, nights, weekends. I didn’t stop. Not even the night I miscarried my second pregnancy. Blood still fresh between my legs, I dragged myself back to work. This went on for years. Until my daughter turned thirteen. I worked late one night. Couldn’t pick her up from school. She was raped and murdered in an alley three blocks from home. My husband Marcus got the news and dropped dead from a heart attack. He wouldn’t even look at me before he died. “Thirteen years,” he gasped. “Thirteen years, and Lily and I combined still couldn’t compete with your dead sister.” “Clara, if there’s a next life, I pray I never meet you again.” The night we buried Lily, I paid off the final 30 grand. Guilt crushing my chest, I jumped from a high-rise. But just before I hit the ground, I saw them. My sister—alive, glowing, draped all over Marcus’s shoulder. “Useless,” she spat, checking her nails. “Took her ten years to scrape together three million. We had to wait this long just to be together openly.” Marcus kissed her temple. “Forget it. At least she earned us the money. We wouldn’t have this kind of life without it.” “Mother and daughter are both dead now. Bad luck.” Vivian wrinkled her nose. “Let’s go. Tomorrow we’re taking this cash straight to the Maldives.” I died with my eyes wide open. When I opened them again, I was back at Vivian’s funeral. “Vivian, sweetheart, how could you leave us so soon? You’ve ripped our hearts right out!” “How are we supposed to pay back all that debt you left behind?” That shrill, familiar wailing hit me like a slap. I hadn’t even processed what was happening when Victor, the debt collector, strutted into the living room and slammed the loan contract onto the coffee table. “Save the tears,” he said, cigarette dangling from his lips. “Your daughter owed me three million before she croaked. Now she’s dead, so what happens to the money?” He was a mountain of a man—six-foot-something, built like a linebacker, with seven or eight muscle-bound goons flanked behind him. The entire room of relatives went dead silent. My brain jolted. I understood. I’d been reborn. Right back to the day of Vivian’s funeral. Mom’s face was streaked with tears, her graying hair hanging limp over her shoulders. She stared at the contract and sobbed like she couldn’t breathe. “I know about this debt,” she choked out. “Vivian told us—she wanted to buy us life insurance, but didn’t have enough money. That’s why she borrowed. Who knew it would spiral into this much…” Dad wrapped his arm around her shoulders. When he opened his mouth, tears poured down the deep grooves in his face. “Vivian was such a good girl. By third grade, she was already cooking for us. How could she just… leave like this?” He stared at the contract. His gaze hardened. “No matter what, this family doesn’t dodge debts. She’s gone, but the money still needs to be paid.” “We’ll pay it. Every cent.” His bloodshot eyes turned and locked onto me in the crowd. “Clara, from now on, we’ll handle this three million together. We’ll get through this as a family, okay?” “If we don’t pay, your sister’s soul will wander lost forever.” They collapsed into each other’s arms, sobbing. Relatives swarmed around them, eyes glistening. “David’s always been a man of his word!” “Don’t worry—with Clara helping, you’ll pay it off in no time.” “Stop crying. You’ve still got one daughter left. You can’t fall apart now.” “Exactly. Vivian would be heartbroken seeing you like this.” But I wasn’t looking at them. My eyes were locked on Marcus, standing in the corner. His face was twisted in grief as he stared at the casket. Perfect performance. But I knew the truth. He and Vivian had been together for years. The three million? A con job they’d cooked up with my parents. Victor was just the enforcer they’d hired to play the heavy. I crouched down, pretending to tie my shoe, and followed Marcus’s line of sight. The mahogany casket had several air holes drilled into the side. Through them, I could see fabric shifting slightly inside. Of course. Vivian wasn’t dead at all. I stood up. Marcus immediately rushed over, concern painted all over his face. He took my hand firmly in his. “Clara, we’ll shoulder your sister’s debt together. I don’t care how many years it takes. I’ll be right beside you.” In my past life, I’d believed him. Believed them all. I’d worked myself to the bone for ten years and never bought a single new outfit. But this time? I yanked my hand free and laughed—cold and sharp. “Why the hell should I pay off debts my sister racked up?”

The moment those words left my mouth, my parents’ sobbing stopped on a dime. Every single person in the room stared at me like I’d grown a second head. Mom pulled herself out of Dad’s arms. She pointed a shaking finger at me and exploded. “You ungrateful brat!” “Your sister died protecting you! And this is what you say?!” Dad’s eyes were bloodshot. “That’s your own sister! Her body isn’t even cold yet, and you’re already trying to wash your hands of this?” Marcus didn’t say a word. He just glanced over at Victor. Victor’s massive palm slammed down on the table like a gunshot. “Debts are debts! Pay up or I’ll crack open that casket and drag her corpse through the streets!” He grinned—a predator’s grin—and moved toward the casket, shoving it like he was about to pry it open. “Don’t you dare—!” Dad lunged forward like a madman, blocking Victor with his entire body. Mom pounded on my chest, her fists wild and desperate, gasping for air between sobs. “You’re a monster! Vivian loved you so much, and for a few dollars, you’ll let them desecrate her body?” “We gave you everything growing up! Paid for your Ivy League tuition, put the house deed in your name, and this is how you repay us? You’re a wolf in sheep’s clothing!” The relatives couldn’t take it anymore. “Clara, your parents spent so much on you. The least you can do is help them out.” “She’s already gone. What’s the point of hoarding money now?” “Your sister went out of her way to drive you to work every day. Don’t be so selfish!” They didn’t know the truth. Vivian didn’t “drive me to work.” That car was mine—I bought it. She said she’d be my chauffeur, took the keys, and never gave them back. I even had to pay for gas. And the whole “sacrificed her education for me” story? A total lie. The truth? Vivian took the college entrance exam twice and scored under 200 both times. I got into an Ivy League school on a full ride. My parents had been bragging for years about their “smart eldest daughter.” When the scores came out, they panicked. So they spun a new story: the family could only afford to send one kid to college, and Vivian “selflessly” gave up her spot for me. They threw me a graduation party, but handed Vivian all the gifts and money people had given me in cards. I had to work a summer job just to pay for my own textbooks. “Your sister doesn’t have a degree. Life’s harder for her out there. You really want to fight her over a few bucks?” “We’ve always been fair. You got the fancy education. Naturally, your sister gets more financial support.” And that house “in my name”? They bought it for Vivian—using up my first-time homebuyer benefits in the process. They claimed they treated us equally. But every single decision had been rigged in Vivian’s favor. No wonder she had the guts to fake her own death and scam me. “That car was mine to begin with! She never—” Crack. Mom’s hand whipped across my face before I could finish. Then, still crying, she pulled out her phone and transferred $70,000 to Victor on the spot. “Take this seventy thousand for now! We’re not deadbeats. No matter what, we pay our debts!” “Clara won’t own up to it? Fine. We will!” At the exact same moment, my phone buzzed. Account balance: $0.00. My brain went white. I remembered—a few days ago, Mom said she didn’t have money for online shopping and insisted I link my card to her account. That seventy thousand? That was every dollar I had saved. “That’s MY money!” I shrieked, lunging forward to stop her. But Dad grabbed me by the arm and flung me backward. My forehead cracked hard against the lacquered edge of the casket. “You’re obsessed! That money came from your mother’s phone! We’re paying your sister’s debt with our money!” “You’ve always been a schemer. Now you’re even claiming your parents’ money as your own?” “You heartless leech! You cost us our jobs when you were born, and now you’ve killed Vivian! I wish I’d never had you!” My head throbbed. White noise filled my ears. But I heard it. A faint, muffled laugh coming from inside the casket. Vivian was laughing at me. Just like she always had. This family had never wanted me. I looked up, red-eyed, ready to blow the whole thing wide open—to scream that Vivian was faking it. But then my gaze landed on something. Dad’s wrist. A leather bracelet engraved with Vivian’s initials. I’d seen that design before. Marcus used to have one exactly like it. And now, as I stared, the two of them exchanged a look. Then both turned to stare at me. Boom. It hit me like thunder splitting fog. My parents had known all along. They were in on it from the start—co-conspirators with Marcus, bleeding me dry from every angle.

The memory of my daughter’s broken body in that alley flashed through my mind. Then the image from my past life—Vivian and Marcus wrapped around each other after I jumped, laughing about the Maldives. Rage exploded behind my eyes. My throat made a grinding, animal sound. But the fury burned so hot it turned ice-cold. I understood them now. The Smith family and Marcus—greedy, ruthless, and desperate to keep up appearances. They wanted my money and to be hailed as saints. Exposing them outright would be too easy. No. I wanted them destroyed. I forced my hands to stop shaking and pulled out my phone. My thumb hovered over three numbers. Then I looked up at the casket. My voice came out soft, almost gentle. “How exactly did Vivian die? Which hospital? Do we have a death certificate?” “What are you implying?” Dad snapped back immediately, eyes flashing with suspicion. “It was your fault! You overslept and were late. She was driving you to work when the crash happened!” “She threw herself over you right before impact. Died protecting you till her last breath!” “Is that so?” I stared him down. “But I remember falling asleep out of nowhere that day. When I woke up, you were all crying. I never even got to see her body. Doesn’t that seem strange?” The room of relatives froze. Then murmurs started. “Yeah, now that you mention it… I didn’t see her either.” “They brought her straight from the hospital into the casket.” “Isn’t that kind of rushed?” “Who buries someone the same day they die?” Marcus’s expression darkened. His stare could’ve drilled holes through me. Dad raised his voice, scrambling. “That’s because your sister’s body was mangled! I didn’t want to traumatize everyone!” “She’s right there in the casket! How could we fake that?!” The relatives nodded along. “True. Who would joke about a dead body?” “I helped close the lid myself. There’s definitely someone in there.” “Clara, you’re overthinking this.” I smiled—slow, cold, sharp. “I never got to say goodbye properly to her.” I turned toward the casket. “So right now—I’m going to see my dear sister one last time.” I reached for the lid.

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The crystal chandeliers of the Grand Plaza Hotel glittered like fallen stars. Asher Vance adjusted his custom Tom Ford cufflinks, preparing to announce his engagement to Serena Sterling. Then she grabbed Derek’s hand. “I can’t do this anymore,” Serena declared, her voice ringing across the marble floors. The crowd went silent. She pulled Derek—Asher’s foster brother—to the center of the room, their fingers intertwined like a slap across Asher’s face. “Derek and I are in love,” she announced. “He’s the real Dalton heir. The one who actually matters.” Derek’s face flushed red. “Serena, wait—this isn’t how we—” “Shut up.” She squeezed his hand harder. “I’m not marrying some trust-fund baby who coasts on his dead mother’s name.” The whispers erupted immediately. “Did she just dump him? At their own engagement party?” “Poor Asher. He never stood a chance.” “I heard he doesn’t even work. Just parties in Monaco.” Asher took a slow sip of his Cristal. His father, Mr. Dalton, looked like he’d swallowed glass. “Serena, you can’t just—” “I can.” Serena turned to Asher, her smile venomous. “You understand, don’t you, Ash? I need a real man. Not a boy living off his mother’s corpse.” Derek tried to pull his hand away. “Serena, please, Grandfather Sterling is watching—” “Good. Let him watch.” Asher set down his champagne flute. The crystal rang like a bell. “Are you finished?” His voice was arctic. Serena blinked. She’d expected tears. Rage. Anything but this calm. “I—yes. We’re done. Derek is my fiancé now.” “Congratulations.” Asher’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. He turned toward the shadows at the edge of the ballroom. Everyone followed his gaze. A woman stood alone by the service entrance, holding a tray of champagne flutes. Dark hair. Sharp cheekbones. A server’s uniform that somehow looked like haute couture on her frame. “Sienna Sterling,” Asher called out. The room gasped. Serena’s illegitimate sister. The bastard child Old Man Sterling kept around out of guilt. Sienna set down the tray slowly. Her expression was unreadable. “Me?” she asked, her voice low and dangerous. Asher walked toward her, ignoring the three hundred pairs of eyes burning into his back. He stopped three feet away. “Marry me.” The crowd exploded. “Is he insane?” “She’s a bastard!” “He’s just trying to save face—” Serena shrieked. “You can’t be serious! She’s a nobody!” Asher didn’t turn around. His eyes stayed locked on Sienna’s. “I’m very serious.” Sienna tilted her head, studying him like a chess piece. “You don’t know anything about me.” “I know enough.” Asher stepped closer. “I know you’re smarter than your sister. I know you actually graduated top of your class at Wharton, not through Daddy’s donations.” Serena’s face went white. “I know you’ve been running shadow projects for Sterling Group for two years,” Asher continued. “Three acquisitions. All profitable. All credited to other people.” Sienna’s expression didn’t change, but something flickered in her eyes. “And I know,” Asher said quietly, “that you want what she has.” The room held its breath. Sienna looked past Asher to where Serena stood, clinging to Derek like a drowning woman. Then she looked at Old Man Sterling, seated at the head table. The old man’s face was carved from stone. Finally, Sienna looked back at Asher. “You’re right.” She stepped forward and extended her hand. “I do.” Asher took it. Her grip was firm. Confident. “Then let’s make a deal,” he murmured. Serena screamed. Actually screamed. “Grandfather! You can’t allow this! She’s—she’s trash!” Old Man Sterling rose slowly from his seat. Everyone fell silent. He walked toward Asher and Sienna, his cane tapping against marble. He stopped in front of them. Studied them. Then he smiled. “At least one of you has a brain,” he said to Asher. He turned to Sienna. “And you. Finally decided to stop hiding?” Sienna’s jaw tightened. “I was waiting for the right moment.” “Smart girl.” Old Man Sterling looked back at Serena with pure disgust. “You just made the worst mistake of your life.” Serena clutched Derek’s arm. “But—but Derek is the Dalton heir! The company—” “Is worth forty billion,” Old Man Sterling finished. “Impressive.” He turned back to Asher. “The Vance family fortune is worth four hundred billion. But I’m sure you knew that, Serena. Since you’re so smart.” The color drained from Serena’s face. Derek looked confused. “Wait, what? Vance? But Asher’s last name is—” “His mother’s name,” Old Man Sterling said coldly. “Because his mother is Eleanor Vance. The Eleanor Vance.” The whispers became a roar. “Oh my God.” “The Vance Dynasty?” “She’s the invisible trillionaire—” Mr. Dalton looked like he might faint. Asher smiled. Still holding Sienna’s hand. “Grandfather Sterling,” he said politely. “Would next Thursday work for the engagement party?” Old Man Sterling laughed. Actually laughed. “Perfect.”

The private room at Le Bernardin was worth more than most people’s yearly salary. Asher sat across from Sienna, a bottle of 1947 Cheval Blanc between them. She hadn’t touched her glass. “You could have chosen anyone,” Sienna said. “Why me?” Asher leaned back. “Because you need me.” “Presumptuous.” “Accurate.” He slid a folder across the table. “I had you investigated.” Sienna’s expression didn’t change. She opened the folder. Inside were financial statements. Project proposals. Emails. All her work. All the deals she’d secretly orchestrated while Serena took credit. “You’ve been sabotaged at every turn,” Asher continued. “Your father gives Serena the spotlight. Your stepmother poisons every opportunity. Old Man Sterling knows you’re capable, but he won’t hand you the company unless you prove you’re untouchable.” Sienna closed the folder. “And marrying you makes me untouchable?” “Marrying me makes you legitimate.” Asher’s eyes were sharp. “The Sterlings care about alliances. Right now, Serena thinks she won by taking Derek. But Derek is nothing.” “And you’re everything.” “Correct.” Sienna finally picked up her wine glass. Swirled it. “What do you get out of this?” “Expansion into Europe,” Asher said simply. “Sterling Group has infrastructure I need. You give me access. I give you power.” “A business arrangement.” “Exactly.” Sienna sipped her wine. “And if I say no?” Asher smiled. “You won’t.” She studied him for a long moment. Then she extended her hand across the table. “Deal.” He shook it. “One rule,” Asher added. “No betrayal. If you screw me over, I bury you.” Sienna’s smile was razor-sharp. “Likewise.” — The door to Asher’s penthouse slammed open. His mother swept in like a hurricane. Eleanor Vance was fifty-three and looked thirty-five. Hermès scarf. Cartier diamonds. Eyes that could cut steel. “Explain,” she demanded. Asher looked up from his laptop. “Hello, Mother.” “Don’t ‘hello Mother’ me.” Eleanor threw her clutch on the couch. “You were humiliated in front of three hundred people, and you proposed to someone else?” “Yes.” “Are you insane?” “No.” Asher closed his laptop. “I’m strategic.” Eleanor paced like a caged lioness. “That Sterling brat embarrassed you—” “She did me a favor.” “Asher—” “Mother.” His voice was calm. “Serena Sterling is incompetent. Marrying her would have been a liability. Sienna is not.” Eleanor stopped pacing. “The illegitimate daughter?” “The competent daughter.” His mother stared at him. Then she laughed. “My God. You actually planned this.” Asher poured himself a scotch. “I’ve been planning this for six months.” “And the sister?” “She agreed. We have an understanding.” Eleanor sat down slowly, her expression shifting from fury to calculation. “Old Man Sterling knows?” “He approved the engagement at his birthday party. Next week.” His mother’s smile was predatory. “Good. Because I’m going to destroy the Daltons for raising a son stupid enough to think he could compete with you.” Asher raised his glass. “That’s the spirit.” Eleanor’s expression softened slightly. “Are you sure about this, darling? Marriage is—” “A contract,” Asher finished. “I’m aware.” “And the girl?” “Knows exactly what this is.” Eleanor studied her son for a long moment. Then she stood, smoothing her skirt. “Fine. But if she hurts you, I’ll ruin her.” “She won’t.” “How do you know?” Asher smiled. “Because she’s exactly like me.”

Old Man Sterling’s birthday party made the engagement party look like a backyard barbecue. Swarovski crystal. Dom Pérignon fountains. A string quartet flown in from Vienna. Asher arrived exactly on time. Alone. The whispers started immediately. “Where’s his fiancée?” “Maybe she backed out—” “Wouldn’t blame her. He’s still yesterday’s news.” Asher ignored them all. He handed his gift—a first edition of The Art of War—to the butler and walked into the lion’s den. Serena and Derek were already holding court. Serena wore a red Valentino gown that cost more than a car. Derek wore a suit that almost fit. And around Derek’s neck was a platinum chain with a diamond pendant the size of a quarter. Asher recognized it immediately. The Sterling Dragon. The family heirloom. Old Man Sterling’s most prized possession. “Asher!” Derek called out, waving like they were old friends. “You made it!” Asher walked over slowly. “Derek. Serena.” Serena’s smile was poisonous. “We were just telling everyone about our engagement gift from Grandfather.” She gestured to the pendant. “The Sterling Dragon,” she purred. “Only given to the family heir.” The crowd murmured appreciatively. Asher looked at Derek. “Congratulations.” Derek beamed. “Thanks, bro. I know this must be hard for you—” “Not particularly.” Serena’s smile faltered. “Where’s your little charity case?” she asked sweetly. “Did she realize what a mistake she made?” “She’s running late,” Asher said calmly. “Work.” “Work?” Serena laughed. “Please. She’s a glorified secretary.” “Actually,” a voice said from the entrance, “I’m the new VP of International Acquisitions.” Every head turned. Sienna stood in the doorway. And she was devastating. Midnight blue Dior. Hair swept up. Diamonds that made Serena’s jewelry look like costume pieces. She walked in like she owned the place. Because, Asher thought, she soon would. Sienna stopped beside him, slipping her hand into his. “Sorry I’m late,” she murmured. “Board meeting ran long.” Old Man Sterling appeared from the crowd, grinning like a shark. “Sienna! Come, come. Let me introduce you properly.” He pulled her toward the center of the room, leaving Serena and Derek on the sidelines. “Everyone,” Old Man Sterling announced, “this is my granddaughter, Sienna Sterling. And in two weeks, she’ll be Mrs. Vance.” The room exploded with congratulations. Serena looked like she might vomit. Derek touched the pendant nervously. “Grandfather, about the Dragon—” “Take it off.” Derek froze. “What?” Old Man Sterling’s voice was ice. “I said. Take. It. Off.” “But—but you gave it to me—” “I didn’t give you anything.” Old Man Sterling’s eyes blazed. “Serena stole it from my safe. Didn’t you, sweetheart?” Serena went white. The crowd gasped. “I—I thought—” “You thought you could manipulate me.” Old Man Sterling held out his hand. “The pendant. Now.” Derek fumbled with the clasp, his hands shaking. He dropped the Dragon into the old man’s palm. Old Man Sterling turned to Sienna. And placed it around her neck. “This,” he said clearly, “belongs to the heir of Sterling Group. And that heir is Sienna.” The room went silent. Then erupted in applause. Serena grabbed Derek’s arm, her nails digging in. “This isn’t over,” she hissed at Asher. Asher smiled. “Yes,” he said quietly. “It is.” Sienna squeezed his hand, her expression triumphant. “Let’s get a drink,” she murmured. They walked away together. Leaving Serena and Derek in the dust.

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The new transfer student claims she’s a “challenge player,” forcing my childhood best friend to help her complete all kinds of explicit tasks. I saw through her act. Tried to warn him to stay away. He turned on me instead. “Ivy’s doing a challenge. If I don’t help her, she’ll be punished. Sera, you’re so selfish.” I stopped warning him. Then her sex toy fell on the floor in class. And he blamed it on me. My reputation was destroyed. The delinquents dragged me into an alley. When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the day Ivy brought her toy to class. — The vibrator rolled across the floor. Ms. Romano’s face went black as coal. She ground out the words. “Whose is this?!” The class erupted. Shocked gasps everywhere. No one expected someone to use a sex toy in class. Especially in Ms. Romano’s class. Ivy, sitting in front of me, turned bright red. Her head dropped. She was always wild. But getting caught like this was humiliating. Just as she was about to cry, her seatmate Julian shot to his feet. He pointed directly at me. “Ms. Romano, I noticed Sera acting weird all period. Her hands kept going under the desk. It’s definitely hers.” His voice was full of righteous anger. “Sera, I never thought you’d sink this low. Using that in class? During a lecture? Have you no shame?” The room exploded. Curious stares. Disgust. Mockery. Revulsion. Every eye in that room landed on me. I started shaking. Not from fear. From rage. Because I’d lived this moment before. — In my previous life, this is where everything went to hell. Julian’s accusation blindsided me. I cried. Denied it. Begged everyone to believe me. No one did. From that day on, I went from honor student to school slut. Every guy felt entitled to undress me with their eyes. Every girl whispered behind my back. When I tried to fight back, they laughed. “Your own best friend said you’re a whore. Stop playing victim.” The rumors followed me everywhere. Bathrooms. Cafeteria. My DMs. Then the delinquents dragged me into an alley after school. My parents tried to get justice. Ms. Romano told them I “asked for it.” I dropped out. Two months later, I jumped off a building.

Thinking about that ending, I dug my nails into my palms. Forced down my rage. This time, I wouldn’t let Julian throw me under the bus. I shot to my feet. “Ms. Romano, my hands have been on my desk taking notes all period. The girl sitting next to me can confirm.” My seatmate nodded furiously. “That’s right! Julian, which eye saw Sera’s hands under the desk? Stop making shit up.” Julian didn’t even flinch. “Maybe I was mistaken about that. But that doesn’t change the fact the vibrator is probably Sera’s. Why else would she be so defensive?” I was shaking. Trying so hard to stay calm. But my face was red. Flushed with anger and humiliation. Julian was going to throw me under the bus. Again. To protect Ivy. Again. Fine. I narrowed my eyes. “I’m wearing jeans. Ivy’s wearing a skirt. If we’re talking about easy access, suspicion falls on her.” The room went dead silent. “Here’s what we’ll do,” I continued. “I’ll strip down in front of all the girls in this class to prove my innocence. But Ivy has to do it too.” Ivy’s eyes went wide. She looked at Julian like a drowning person reaching for a life raft. Julian’s face twisted. “Sera, you’re disgusting! Trying to frame Ivy when you know she’s innocent!” I crossed my arms. “You can accuse me all you want. But I’m proposing a fair solution. If Ivy’s got nothing to hide, she shouldn’t be afraid to prove it.” Ms. Romano looked tempted. Julian panicked. “Ms. Romano, we can’t do this. Think about how this would look if it got out. For the school’s reputation, we should just drop it.” Julian was the star quarterback. The golden boy whose father donated the new football field. Ms. Romano loved him. She sighed. “Fine. This time, I’ll let it go. But if I catch anyone with something like this again, I’m calling parents immediately.” — After class, Julian grabbed my wrist. Dragged me to an empty classroom. “Sera, I know you don’t like Ivy. I know you’re jealous we’ve gotten close. But trying to ruin her over this? That’s evil.” “If people found out that vibrator was Ivy’s, her reputation would be destroyed. Don’t you have any empathy?” I laughed. Actually laughed. “Empathy? You tried to frame me for something I didn’t do, and I’m the one who needs empathy?” Julian’s jaw clenched. “You don’t understand. Ivy has to complete these tasks. She’s part of an exclusive challenge. If she doesn’t finish, there are consequences.” I glanced at Ivy. She wasn’t crying anymore. She was leaning against the wall, smoking a cigarette, smirking at me. Only an idiot like Julian would believe that Ivy—who smoked, drank, got into fights, and had a back tattoo—was just a “good girl forced to do bad things by an online challenge.” Julian grabbed my shoulders. “The task isn’t complete yet. Go tell Ms. Romano the vibrator was yours. Then get it back for Ivy.” My mouth fell open. “You have perfect grades. Ms. Romano will just scold you. She won’t actually call your parents.” He smiled. The kind of smile you give a dog when you want it to sit. “We’ve known each other our whole lives. I know you’re a kind person, Sera.” That’s when I knew. Any affection I’d had for Julian died in that moment. I smiled back. Sweet as poison. “Ms. Romano loves you, Julian. You’re the star quarterback. Why don’t you go tell her the vibrator is yours? I bet she won’t even scold you.” Julian’s face went black. “Sera!” “Believe whatever fantasy you want about Ivy’s ‘challenge.’ But leave me out of it.” I shoved past him and walked out.

I knew they wouldn’t give up. So I hired a hacker online. Had them break into Julian’s phone. Gave me access to everything. Two days later, I was reading their text conversation. I saw Ivy crying to Julian about how scared she’d been. Their conversation got flirty. Then Ivy changed the subject. Mentioned her next “task.” She had to plant her underwear in another guy’s desk. I almost choked. This girl had balls of steel. Looked like the last incident hadn’t taught her enough. Julian was clearly reluctant. Then he said: “Does it have to be yours? What about someone else’s? I’m going to Sera’s house this weekend. I’ll use hers. That way, we can also get you off the hook for the vibrator thing.” “With her underwear involved, Sera won’t be able to accuse you so easily anymore.” Watching them casually plan this out, I smiled coldly. Waited for the weekend. Julian and I were neighbors. We’d grown up together. Actual childhood friends. Both of us were top students with Ivy League dreams. Our parents loved that we were close. But ever since Ivy transferred in six months ago, Julian and I had drifted apart. He hadn’t come over in months. So when he showed up at my door that Saturday, my parents were thrilled. “Sera! Julian’s here!” They welcomed him warmly. “Come in and study with Sera. I’ll make you both lunch.” Julian smiled at me. Ruffled my hair like old times. I pulled away. My parents laughed. “Did you two have a fight?” Julian smiled so sincerely it made me sick. “I’m sorry, Sera. I was wrong the other day. Forgive me?” I studied his face. Behind the smile, I could see the impatience. The irritation. “You really know you were wrong?” He forced a laugh. “I was wrong, I was wrong. Now let me in.” The last shred of nostalgia I had for him evaporated. I stepped aside. After lunch, Julian said he had to go. The second he left, I checked my room. The new pack of underwear I’d just bought? Gone.

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Half a year after I died filled with hatred and resentment, my ex-girlfriend Sophia and her childhood friend Chris both died one after another and arrived in Hell. Chris shielded Sophia’s trembling body behind him, screaming hysterically at the Gates of Hell. “How could we have fallen to a place like this?” “All these years we’ve helped the poor, donated to schools, contributed to disaster relief. We’ve done countless good deeds! After death, we should have ascended to Heaven!” “It must be that bastard Julian playing tricks! Even in death, he’s dragging us down with him! Call him out here-I want to confront him face to face!” The Wardens flipped through the Book of Judgment and laughed mockingly. “Julian? He ascended to Paradise long ago. He’ll never enter the cycle of reincarnation again!” “Julian is in Paradise? How is that possible? That beast didn’t go to Hell?” “Your Honor, the records in this Book of Judgment must be wrong!” Sophia, nestled in Chris’s arms, cried tears streaming down her face. “We were devoted to charity in life and never committed evil deeds. You must investigate this thoroughly!” The surrounding thousands of dead souls were drawn by the commotion, and discussions rose one after another. One ghost glared with wide eyes. “I know Julian! To embezzle his parents’ inheritance, he personally murdered his own biological parents!” “He was jealous of his younger brother Chris’s successful career, so he bribed hackers to alter company accounts and spread rumors that Chris had fled with the money, causing a thriving enterprise to nearly go bankrupt overnight!” “Sophia funded the elderly and orphans, and founded Hope Elementary Schools-she’s a well-known philanthropist!” “Good people are wrongly punished while evil people roam free in Heaven-is there any justice left in this world? We must get justice today!” In hell, I was also quite the notorious villain, so these newly arrived ghosts all knew about my deeds. Seeing the crowd growing increasingly agitated, the Wardens sighed softly. “Since you all claim injustice, then let’s watch Julian’s testimony left behind in Hell.” As light and shadow shifted, a mirror suddenly appeared before everyone. The skeletal, emaciated me sat quietly in the judgment seat, playing with the faded red cord wrapped around my wrist. What follows is my testimony. Sophia and I had known each other since childhood-everyone acknowledged us as childhood sweethearts. In middle school, when thugs cornered Sophia in an alley, I grabbed a wooden stick from the roadside and charged forward. The stick eventually broke, leaving a deep gash on my hand. On my eighteenth birthday, she personally wove me a red cord bracelet, saying she would always stay by my side. In college, when she had acute appendicitis, I set up a cot in the hospital corridor and stayed by her side day and night. When she was afraid of injections, I’d tell her jokes in every way I could think of to coax her. When her business venture failed, I secretly sold my beloved car and rushed the money to her overnight. Those days were hard, but just seeing her smile made everything worthwhile. Speaking of these memories, a hint of a smile appeared on my originally dim face. We used to be so beautiful, so happy. We were a model couple that made others envious. Everyone was certain we would be together forever, until we grew old together. Outside the mirror, Sophia seemed to also sink into those beautiful times, her eyes reddening as she watched the scene. Chris’s face grew increasingly ugly. He gripped her hand tightly and forced a smile. “Sophia, if I’d known you two were this close, I shouldn’t have confessed to you. I should have buried this love in my heart.” “It’s all in the past. Besides, I fell in love with you first. You did nothing wrong. Don’t take all the blame on yourself.” Sophia leaned into his embrace, comforting him with heartache. They kissed recklessly, while I continued narrating my short-lived life.

That year in late autumn, Father brought home a young man, saying he was an illegitimate son who had been separated from the family twenty years ago. His birth mother had died last month in a small town. The boy inherited the family’s asthma condition and came looking for us as a last resort. Mother smashed the cup in her hand, hysterically questioning him about years of deception. But when she saw the boy’s paper-white face as he curled up in the entryway coughing violently, she eventually softened. She turned and silently prepared the guest room. This young man named Chris became my brother from that day on. When he first arrived, he always wore a T-shirt washed until it was nearly white. He always kept his head down when speaking. I felt pity for him and shared half of everything I owned with him. Even when servants spoke harshly to him, I would stand up for him. Later, I brought Chris to meet Sophia for the first time. He accidentally knocked over a coffee cup. The coffee splashed onto Sophia’s skirt. Chris frantically wiped it with his sleeve, his eyes welling up with mist as he kept apologizing. Seeing his pitiful appearance, Sophia didn’t know what to say. Later, the three of us often went out together, and Sophia gradually grew accustomed to it. She would proactively bring Chris limited edition snacks. When we hiked mountains, she’d carry his backpack for him. She even prepared matching couple’s watches for both of us on my birthday. I watched her gentle profile as she tied Chris’s shoelaces, and my heart felt like it was stuffed with damp cotton. Sophia laughed helplessly. “You petty. you’re jealous even of this? We’re taking care of a sick person, isn’t that okay?” Until Mother suddenly died from a heart attack due to overwork. On the night, I held Mother’s portrait and sobbed uncontrollably. Sophia held me in her arms, softly comforting me. But when I went to get Mother’s favorite silk scarf, I stumbled upon a suffocating scene in the storage room- Sophia had Chris pinned against the wall, her burning kiss falling on his pale lips. “Sophia… Julian is still outside…” Chris’s hoarse voice trembled. “I can’t wait anymore.” Sophia gripped the back of his neck. “Tomorrow I’ll tell him. What I’ve always wanted… is you…” The bronze lamps in Hell flickered bright and dim. The Judge’s gavel fell heavily. “Breaking vows, cheating, defilement before the deceased-three crimes combined!” Sophia raised her head, her eyes defiant. “A promise from ten years ago was just childish talk! Meeting Chris made me realize what soul mate is. Should I trap three people’s lives for the sake of so-called responsibility?” Chris also began defending himself. “Why should people who truly love each other suffer this punishment? Your Honor, have you ever experienced the pain of loving someone you can’t have?” The spectating ghosts began whispering among themselves. “It’s normal for young people to change their hearts. Life is so long-who can be certain the person in front of them is the one they’ll spend their life with?” “Moreover, Sophia loved the wrong person to begin with. If she’d kept loving Julian, who knows how he would have abused her!” “Right, cheating is wrong, but compared to the unconscionable things Julian did later, this little mistake is nothing.” In the dim underworld, the sounds of condemnation gradually drowned out the Judge’s reprimands.

The Judge paid no attention to them, merely having the Wardens continue playing my testimony. It was a dusk of pouring rain. I had not only lost my only support-Mother-but was also personally pushed into the abyss by my most trusted girlfriend, Sophia. Despair rose like a tide, flooding over my head. I became volatile and obsessive. Facing Father who had suddenly brought home his illegitimate son Chris, I sneered and mocked him all day long. When Chris shed crocodile tears in front of me, I directly overturned the tea table and told him to get lost. Even Sophia, who once said she would protect me forever, had now become a traitor in my eyes. The chaotic scenes at home quickly became known to everyone. Neighbors pointed at my spine, saying the Sterling family had produced a arrogant devil who thought himself above everyone. Looking back now, Sophia’s words really hit a nerve-I was indeed like a beast raised in an iron cage. I’d never even stepped onto a real battlefield, yet thought baring my fangs and claws made me fierce. I was nothing more than a tiger with its claws pulled out, floundering pathetically in the mud. Mother’s seventh day memorial had barely passed when Father grandly held a recognition banquet for Chris at a luxury hotel. That day, Chris wore an Italian custom suit and greeted to the guests holding champagne-every bit the most proper heir of the Sterling family. I was locked in the attic, watching the brilliant lights outside the window, smashing every piece of porcelain I could get my hands on. Just then, Chris appeared leisurely. He dangled the jade signet ring Mother had left for me, sneering that I was just lucky to have been born well. “If it weren’t for your mother interfering back then, my mother and I should have walked through the Sterling family’s front door openly long ago.” He suddenly released his grip. The crisp sound of the ring hitting the floor startled me back half a step. Then he staggered and rolled down the spiral staircase, his pale face flushing with an unnatural redness. He clutched his chest, gasping violently, calling out intermittently: “Julian… stealing the ring is one thing, but why… why did you push me! My asthma medication… is upstairs…” When Father rushed in, I had no way to defend myself. He gripped my wrist until his veins bulged, saying Chris had suffered from severe asthma since childhood-this was deliberate murder of my own brother. Sophia, her eyes red, pinned me against the wall, her nails digging deep into my arm. “Julian Sterling, if Chris die today, I’ll make you pay with your life!” That night, Sophia somehow gathered a group of thugs and cornered me in a dark alley. They pressed my head against the wall, fists and feet raining down on me like hail. Sophia stood under the streetlight watching coldly, occasionally kicking me twice. “That’s for bullying Chris! Do you know how much he suffers when his condition flares up? Beat him to death-I’ll take responsibility if anything happens!” I curled up on the ground, feeling like my ribs were about to be kicked in. Warm blood flowed from the corner of my mouth down my throat. They only left cursing when I passed out. Lying in the hospital, I stared at the fluorescent lights on the ceiling and suddenly remembered what Mother had said: The most terrifying thing in this world isn’t demons-it’s the human heart. Your Honor, if there’s truly justice in this world, can you see the buried truth?

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I’m a research scientist at Ares Biotech, one of the most prestigious defense contractors in the country. When the Principal Scientist promotion committee convened, my wife Lydia-a voting member-struck my name from the candidate list. Again. After five consecutive rejections, I was forced out under the company’s “up or out” policy. I refused to quit science. I leased a private lab and continued my work independently. Six months later, the lab caught fire. I was trapped inside with a young intern named Parker Stone. Through the smoke, I saw Lydia burst through the door. For one desperate second, I thought she’d come for me. She ran straight past me. She grabbed Parker by the arm and dragged him toward the exit. I reached out, my hand closing on empty air as flames licked closer. She looked back once. Her eyes were cold, clinical. “Parker’s a Principal Scientist. His work is classified. He’s more valuable than you.” The ceiling collapsed. Fire swallowed everything. When I opened my eyes again, I was standing in our apartment. Lydia was leaning against me, pouting prettily, her fingers playing with my collar. “Arthur, baby, just withdraw from the promotion round this year. Do it for us.” I recognized this moment. This exact conversation. Three years ago. The first time she’d asked me to step aside. I shoved her away so hard she stumbled. “You want me to withdraw? So you can take my spot?” I looked at her like she was a stranger. “Not a chance in hell.”

Lydia froze, shocked and confused. “Arthur Vance, is waiting one more year really so hard? Why are you competing against your own wife?” I stared at the candidate roster on her tablet. Arthur Vance. Marcus Smith. Lydia Sterling. Only three spots available for Principal Scientist this cycle. “There are only three openings,” she continued, her voice with that insufferable self-righteous edge. “We can’t both make it. If you wait a year, you can focus on your research instead of this political nonsense. Why are you being so selfish?” “You claim to love science, but all you care about is climbing the ladder. I’m disappointed in you.” Her words yanked me back to reality. The same script. Word for word. In my first life, I’d believed her. I withdrew my application. She got promoted. She’d promised it was temporary. “You’re young, talented, respected. You’ll get your turn next year.” But ten years later, she was still saying: “You’re aging out, Arthur. Science needs fresh blood. It’s time to make room for the next generation.” Past and present overlapped. I saw both versions of her face-the manipulative wife and the woman who’d left me to burn. Lydia grabbed my arm, her voice rising. “I don’t care what you think. We’re going to the committee right now, and you’re withdrawing your application!” I jerked away from her touch. “My qualifications exceed every requirement. My publication record is flawless. Why the hell would I withdraw?” “You talk about ambition like it’s a disease. What’s your excuse for wanting the promotion, Lydia?” She hesitated, then her voice went shrill. “Because of you!” “You publish constantly, but you never add my name to your papers. Do you know how that makes me look? People whisper that I’m riding your coattails. If I get this promotion, no one will dare question my credentials again!” “So are you withdrawing or not?” I looked at her face, twisted by jealousy and ambition, and shook my head firmly. “No. I’m staying in the race.”

Lydia slammed the door on her way out. Watching her leave, I saw another image superimposed-her walking away from the fire, leaving me to die. In my previous life, we’d been married for twenty years. The only real fight we ever had came in my final year of eligibility-my last chance before mandatory retirement from research roles. By then, she’d clawed her way onto the promotion committee. For nine consecutive years, she struck my name from the finalist list. She called it integrity. “I’m on the committee. I have to avoid any appearance of favoritism.” But when I asked the other committee members, they all said the same thing: my publication record and project impact scores were the highest in the cohort. I should have been promoted years ago. By that point, Lydia had become Committee Chair. She wielded veto power. I tried reasoning with her one last time. “This isn’t about prestige. If I don’t get promoted this cycle, I’m out. Forced retirement. I won’t be able to do research anymore, Lydia. This is my life’s work.” She threw her coffee mug at the wall. “So you’re asking me to pull strings for you? Is that it, Arthur?” “No. I’m asking you to recuse yourself from the vote. Let the decision stand on its merits.” She ignored that completely. “Principal Scientist is just a pay bump and a better pension. You don’t care about money. Why are you so obsessed with a title?” “Besides, these positions are limited. We’re married. It would look bad if we monopolized two spots. I won’t let you guilt me into approving your promotion!” My last opportunity died with her veto. I was forced out of Ares Biotech. Twenty years of research, gone. But I couldn’t just stop. I rented a small lab downtown and continued working independently. Lydia opposed it viciously at first, accusing me of “stealing proprietary research for personal gain.” She came by twice to trash the equipment. Eventually I agreed to mentor a junior researcher. She backed off. The junior researcher was Parker Stone. Lazy attitude. Mediocre skills. Constant attitude problems. One afternoon, I asked him to sterilize the workbench with ethanol. He “accidentally” knocked over an open flame. The entire lab went up in minutes. We were both trapped. Lydia arrived with the fire department. I heard her shouting orders outside. “Prioritize Dr. Stone! He’s a Principal Scientist working on classified defense contracts! He cannot be lost!” “Ma’am, your husband-” “He’s just a family member. He knew the risks when he married into this field.” I gripped my lab notebook, my knuckles white. When she kicked down the door, I felt hope flare in my chest. We’d been together for twenty years. Surely- She kicked my outstretched hand away. She grabbed Parker by the shoulders and hauled him toward the exit. She didn’t look back. Her voice was flat, mechanical. “You’re expendable. He’s not.” That was Lydia Sterling. The woman who’d stolen my promotion. The woman who’d let me burn. This time, I’d make sure she never got the chance.

I knew Lydia would fight dirty. I didn’t realize how low she’d sink. Within two days, rumors spread through every department at Ares Biotech. Even members of my own research team started looking at me with contempt. “Dr. Smith, this data point looks off. Can you double-check the calculation?” I held out the report. My junior researcher, Sarah Smith, just stared at me, arms crossed. “Sorry, Dr. Vance. I’m not qualified for such important work. You should do it yourself.” “Excuse me?” She sneered. “Don’t play dumb. We all know what kind of person you are.” My jaw tightened. “If you have an accusation, take it to HR. But while you’re on my team, you’ll do your job.” Sarah threw her tablet down. “Who wants to be on your team? I heard you steal research from your wife and force her to commit academic fraud. Then you beat her when she refuses. You’re a fraud and an abuser. Why should we respect you?” The lab erupted in whispers. “I saw them arguing once,” someone said. “Lydia was begging him to credit her on a paper. Now it makes sense-she did all the work, and he took the glory.” “I heard he tells people women can’t do real science. That’s why he never collaborates with female researchers.” Every woman on my team was glaring at me now. So this was Lydia’s play. Before I could respond, the lab door opened. Lydia walked in. I moved toward her. “Lydia, we need to-” “No! Don’t hit me! I’ll do whatever you want!” She screamed and cowered, throwing her arms over her head. Every eye in the room locked onto me. One of the female researchers rushed over. “Oh my God, Lydia, your arms-what are those bruises?” “And your lip is split!” Instantly, the entire room turned on me. Lydia threw herself at my feet, the perfect picture of a battered wife. “Arthur, please, I’ll be good. I’ll listen. Just don’t hurt me anymore.” “I’ll do anything you ask. Please don’t be angry.” She started sobbing, angling her face so everyone could see the injuries clearly. “Please… don’t misunderstand. This isn’t his fault. I… I fell. That’s all.” The more she defended me, the more guilty I looked. “I always thought Dr. Vance seemed so professional,” someone muttered. “I can’t believe he’s a wife-beater.” “God, I actually found him attractive. Turns out he’s a monster.” In my first life, I thought her obstruction was about ethics. About maintaining her impartiality. I never imagined she’d stoop to character assassination. “We should report this to the Ethics Committee,” someone said loudly. “Or Security. Get this abuser fired.” Lydia immediately threw herself into my arms, shaking her head. “No, no. I love him. He only hits me sometimes. The rest of the time, he’s… he’s fine.” Everyone looked at her with pity. Several male researchers glared at me with obvious jealousy. Lydia pressed against me and whispered, so quietly only I could hear. “Everyone believes I’m the victim. No one cares if it’s true.” I tried to push her away. She let out a theatrical scream and collapsed. Immediately, two male colleagues grabbed me and slammed me face-first against the lab bench. “You’re attacking her in front of witnesses?” My cheek pressed against cold steel. Through the corner of my eye, I saw Lydia smirking. An hour later, I was sitting across from the Division Chief. “Dr. Vance, effective immediately, you’re suspended from all active projects pending investigation.” I looked him in the eye. “So I’m out of the promotion cycle.” “Your file won’t be reviewed during the suspension period. After the investigation concludes… we’ll see.” It didn’t matter that my research record was stronger than Lydia’s. With domestic violence allegations hanging over me, the committee would never approve my promotion. In a high-security defense contractor, even a hint of scandal was disqualifying. I left his office and walked straight to the Academic Integrity Committee. “I’m filing a formal complaint against Dr. Lydia Sterling for academic misconduct, falsification of research, and plagiarism.”

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Thanksgiving morning, my doctor wife told me once again she had a few emergency surgeries and couldn’t come home with me to visit my parents. But the second I checked Instagram, I saw my wife in Jason’s post, carving a turkey at what looked like a countryside kitchen, surrounded by strangers. The caption read: “Dad says having a surgeon for a daughter-in-law is great. Even carves turkey like a pro.” I just laughed coldly, hit like, and left a comment. “Makes sense. Professional training.” Colleagues immediately started blowing up the group chats, all thinking I’d finally lost it over my wife. Claire’s call came through right away, and I could already picture her frowning in annoyance. “Jason’s having a big family day. I’m just helping them out. What’s with your passive-aggressive bullshit?” “His family doesn’t have any women around. This feast is a huge deal and they can’t handle it themselves. I’m just lending a hand. What are you making a scene for?” “Withdraw the like and delete the comment right now. Don’t make Jason’s life difficult at the hospital. You hear me?” “I’ll pick another time to go back with you. Okay?” Another “I’ll pick another time.” But Claire only knew how to feed me empty promises, over and over again. I was done eating them. Done waiting. After this Thanksgiving weekend, once I got the divorce papers, our seven-year marriage would be finished for good. I didn’t respond to Claire and for the first time ever, I hung up on her myself. She lost it and my phone rang again immediately. I rejected it and blocked her, just like she always did to me when she was pissed. My parents looked over with concern. “Ethan, you and Claire…” Meeting their worried eyes, I smiled at them and took a couple bites of food, acting like it was nothing. “We can’t make it work. Getting divorced soon.” Mom sighed and patted Dad’s arm, forcing herself to sound upbeat as she called for everyone to eat. My phone buzzed with a notification from Jason posting a long apology in the work chat. “Just having some fun with everyone. Thanks to Dr. Reynolds for being cool about it. If this bothered anyone, my apologies.” But the words were dripping with smugness. Claire replied quickly. “Young people should have some energy. Nothing to apologize for. Whoever’s bothered is just being petty.” Actually, I wasn’t bothered at all. Getting to cut ties with Claire clean? That was perfect. Once the Medical Director made her stance clear, everyone instantly knew which side to pick and they all started chiming in. “The hospital’s usually so dead anyway. Jason’s sacrificing himself to keep things lively. We should thank him.” “Who knew Dr. Reynolds was just as skilled with a knife outside the OR? Jason’s got it made!” “Haha, everyone knows there’s only ONE person at our hospital who’s that petty.” Watching them continuously trash me made me feel pathetic. Because half the people kissing Jason’s ass were surgeons I’d trained personally. Back then they were sucking up to me constantly. Now, I was just “that person” they mocked. Claire was the Medical Director. She favored Jason, so Jason became the golden boy in everyone’s eyes. Never mind that this hospital only existed because of my techniques and my entire life savings. None of it could compete with Claire’s shameless favoritism. I laughed bitterly, turned off my screen, and tried to pull myself together to have a proper meal with my parents. Then Claire actually called my mom’s phone. Mom looked at me, lost. I sighed and finally answered. But before I could say anything, I heard Claire’s cold, emotionless voice. “Is Ethan there with you? Put him on. I need to talk to him.” In that moment, I regretted picking up. She had the nerve to call my mom’s phone to find me, but couldn’t even say “Mom” when my mother answered. Something clenched in my chest. “What do you want?” Hearing my voice, Claire’s tone turned even colder. “Jason’s previous surgery patient is showing signs of post-op infection. You need to get back to the hospital right now and perform a second surgery.” Her voice was commanding, brooking no argument, ordering me around like I was a damn dog. Rage suddenly flared inside me. The patient needed cardiac septal grafting and even if I performed it, I couldn’t guarantee better than fifty-fifty odds. But Jason wanted to climb to department head, so he shamelessly begged me for that surgery. I knew his half-assed skills couldn’t handle it and I refused outright. But Claire’s head was full of nothing but Jason and without a word, she transferred the patient to Jason. I fought her on it. Claire said rookies need experience, told me not to be so concerned with personal gain and loss. A human life was just a stepping stone for her boy. Now there was a problem, and she wanted me to clean up Jason’s mess. Did she really think I was some kind of sucker? I refused directly. “I can’t come back. Whoever screwed up takes responsibility. If you can’t stand watching, then you do the surgery yourself. You’re his guarantor anyway.” “I’m eating with my parents right now. They thought you were coming back, made a whole spread. Can’t let it go to waste. If that’s all, I’m hanging up.” I was about to end the call when Claire suddenly screamed on the other end. “Try hanging up on me! Ethan, have I been giving you too much slack lately?!”

Her scream was so loud and even startled my mom, who was hard of hearing. She turned to look at me, worry all over her face. I forced down the rage building in my chest, walked outside with my phone, and lowered my voice to snap back at her. “What the hell are you yelling at me for?” The other end went silent for a moment. Then Claire got pissed too. “I know you’re mad I broke my promise, but I already said I’d make time to go back with you. What more do you want?” “Jason’s surgery-you’re doing it whether you like it or not. Otherwise, we’re done.” Perfect. I didn’t want to stay with her anyway. I was about to tell Claire we were getting divorced when I heard Jason’s voice on the other end. “Claire, the food’s ready. Your dad’s calling you to eat.” Then I heard Claire cover the phone and respond in a voice so sweet it made me sick. “I’m just handling some hospital business. I’ll be right there. Tell Dad I said so.” I laughed. “So Dr. Reynolds has found herself a new father? Don’t want to keep your old man waiting.” “Oh right, I forgot… I’m the petty one.” Jason must not have walked away yet because Claire hissed at me in a furious whisper. “Jason’s from a small town where people gossip. I’m his boss. What’s wrong with helping him save face? What’s with your passive-aggressive crap?” “I’m telling you, Ethan, you’ve got three days to do that surgery. Otherwise, get the hell out of my hospital!” She hung up. I stood outside my parents’ house in the wind, feeling empty inside. But just after I’d decided I definitely wasn’t going to be her scapegoat this time, the Chief of Surgery called. He said someone reported me for performing surgery while drunk, causing a medical malpractice case, and I needed to get back immediately to deal with it. In that moment, I felt like I was losing my mind. My breathing got rapid. “Sir, you’ve got this wrong. The patient had congenital hypertrophic cardiomyopathy. He was already critical when he came in.” But the Chief sent me a copy of the complaint. My head started buzzing and I didn’t even finish dinner before rushing back to the hospital in a panic. Facing the Chief’s reproachful look, I requested to confront my accuser. The Chief didn’t say anything, just brought out a witness to identify me. But this witness, the anesthesiologist from that surgery, was Jason’s good buddy. Realizing what was happening, I exploded with rage. “Sir, he’s Jason’s guy. He could be framing me.” I couldn’t find proof, so my defense sounded weak. But a sharp, angry voice cut me off. “Enough!” Claire pushed through the door, looking at me with pure disgust. “You did the wrong things and still to drag Jason. You hating him! Trying to destroy him!” “Ethan! I thought you were just petty, but at least professional in surgery. I never imagined you’d be this shameless!” “Do you know how serious it is to fake medical disputes? I never thought you’d gamble with a patient’s life like this! Someone like you doesn’t deserve to be a doctor! Doesn’t deserve to be my husband!” I stood frozen, my throat feeling like it was stabbed with a thousand needles. After a long time, I finally managed to speak. “Claire, in your heart, do you really think I’m the kind of person who’d kill a patient out of jealousy?” Claire’s chest heaved as she looked at me with dark eyes. “What else?” “I saw it myself. The fridge at home is full of beer bottles.” One sentence sealed my fate. The Chief issued my termination on the spot and my colleagues’ spit landed on me. I was still in shock, just finishing packing my things to leave, when the patient’s family rushed over and kicked me to the ground. “You bastard! Why did you kill my son? Who told you to drink?” The woman kicked me over and over, then started slapping my face. My vision went blurry and the woman got dragged away while I crouched on the floor picking up my scattered belongings. Then Jason’s voice suddenly came from behind me. “Ethan, you got what you deserved.”

Isn’t he the one who orchestrated all this? And here he is pretending to be surprised? I laughed coldly and shot back. “Sorry to disappoint you, but I just think working with trash like you lowers my value. That’s why I quit.” Jason’s smile grew wider and he put on this smug, arrogant look, raising his voice to point at me. “Ethan, you’re a doctor. Now you’ve caused a malpractice case. Sure, you resigned and ran away, but when the patient’s family comes to the hospital to make trouble, it affects the hospital’s reputation.” “I suggest you get on your knees and apologize to everyone here. Otherwise, why should we have to deal with the fallout you created?” He looked around, waiting for someone to back him up. I thought this was ridiculous, turned around, and started to leave. But Jason wouldn’t let it go and rushed forward to block me. I tried to dodge him and the instant we passed each other, he dropped to the floor on his ass. Claire’s voice rang out immediately. “Jason! Are you okay?” She ran to Jason’s side, asking him with concern all over her face, then turned to glare at me with absolute fury. “Ethan! If you’ve got a problem, go get help! Why the hell are you pushing people around? Apologize to Jason right now!” Before I could respond, Jason started playing the good guy. “Claire, don’t get mad. I’m just worried Ethan’s malpractice case will hurt the hospital. He didn’t mean to push me…” Bringing up the malpractice case got Claire fired up again and she demanded with furrowed brows. “I asked you to cover one surgery and you refused a hundred times. Now the patient’s got problems. What are you going to do about it?” “I never realized before that you’re the kind of person who treats lives like a joke!” I thought it was hilarious and immediately asked her back. “So when you helped Jason frame me, you weren’t treating my life like a joke?” Then I looked at the guilty-looking Jason with narrowed eyes. “Scum like him? He’ll get you killed sooner or later!” Claire immediately shielded Jason and threw my words back at me. “Ethan! Stop attacking people! You got drunk and screwed up a surgery-who’s fault is that but yours? This is your fate!” All my rage got stuck in my throat and finally just turned into a bitter laugh. It’s always like this. Whenever Jason’s involved, she’ll defend him unconditionally, even if it costs me my career. I couldn’t find evidence yet, so I had to take the fall. Too lazy to argue with them anymore, I picked up my box and tried to leave again. But Claire wouldn’t let it go and grabbed my sleeve. “You think resigning fixes everything? I’m going to notify every hospital in the city! I’ll get you blacklisted from the entire industry!” I turned my head slightly, giving Claire and Jason a contemptuous look, and said calmly. “Go ahead. But before you send that notice, you should probably go pay respects to that patient.” “Just in case his soul hasn’t moved on yet and comes back as a ghost to collect what you two owe him in the middle of the night!” After saying that, I ignored their guilty wide eyes and walked with big strides toward the hospital exit. Claire’s always been like this, always ready to assume the worst about me. So the second the patient died, she blamed me. She wanted me to take the fall to protect Jason. But none of that mattered anymore. After leaving the hospital, I found a realtor and listed the house I’d bought in full when Claire and I got married. The young agent said excitedly that the market was good lately and the house would sell for a lot. I just told him flatly that the place was kind of messy, so when he found a buyer, just get someone to haul everything out with the trash. I didn’t want a single thing that belonged to Claire. Then I went to the courthouse and before closing time, I walked out with my divorce decree. She probably forgot herself that she was the one who threw that divorce agreement in my face in a fit of rage. Remembering I’d forgotten to tell Claire to move out of the house, I drove home to lay it all out. The whole drive, I imagined what her face would look like when she saw the divorce papers. But I didn’t expect her to give me a surprise first. The smart lock on my door suddenly wouldn’t open.

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“Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!” That’s what I heard when I opened the door to my own house. My husband-Gavin kissing a 21-year-old girl deeply. Three hours ago, this man canceled our anniversary trip to take care of his sick mother. Now he’s taking care of a different girl. So where’s his mother—the one who’s been dead for three months? **** Three hours earlier at the airport, Gavin’s phone buzzed just as we were about to board to enjoy our wedding anniversary trip. “Babe, I’m so sorry. My mom’s sick. I need to go back. Can’t make this trip.” I was disappointed. But his mom came first. I said okay. Gavin left. I tore up the ticket. Then I remembered—his mom died three months ago. Time to see what kind of “sick” a dead woman gets. I followed Gavin’s car. All the way to our house. I didn’t get out. I checked my phone instead. Tiffany,our housekeeper’s daughter was blasting Instagram stories. [Best 21st birthday EVER. Thank you for spoiling me rotten. ❤️] The photo: White lace dress. Leaning into a man’s chest. The man was my devoted husband. I cracked my knuckles. Got out. Walked to the door and opened it. Balloons everywhere. A dozen people crowding around two persons in the center. They were chanting,”Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!” Gavin grabbed Tiffany’s waist and kissed her. The crowd went wild. When they finally broke apart, Gavin was still stroking her lips with his thumb. Then he looked up. And saw me standing in the front row. His eyes went wide. He shoved Tiffany back. I was faster. Slap. Slap. Two clean hits across his face. The room went silent. Tiffany spun around. Saw me. Screamed. Grabbed Gavin’s arm and hid behind him. I smiled. “Didn’t know you had a new mom, Gavin.”

He stammered. Tried to explain. A girl with short hair shoved me hard. “Who the hell are you? You can’t just barge into someone’s house and hit people! Apologize to Tiffany’s boyfriend. Now.” The others joined in,”Yeah, assault is illegal. She should apologize. Or we call the cops.” “I bet she has priors. Who knows what she’ll do next?” “How did this psycho even get in here? Does she know who she just hit?” I looked at them. Smiled wider. Then turned to Gavin. “You think I shouldn’t have slapped you?” Gavin licked his lips. Started to speak. Tiffany tugged his sleeve. Shook her head. I saw it all. Curious what game they’d play. Gavin glared at me. “Scarlett, what the hell is wrong with you? It’s Tiffany’s birthday. Whatever you want to say, say it later. Stop embarrassing yourself. Get out!” Protecting his mistress in front of her friends. How sweet. I laughed. Cold. “Get out? Are you two hiding something?” Tiffany started crying. “Scarlett, I know you’ve always had a crush on Gavin. I know it hurts to see us together. But love is mutual. Gavin loves me. We’ve been together for two years. He promised to marry me after I graduate. Please stop chasing him.” Gavin’s face twitched. He didn’t expect her to say that. He glanced at me. I froze. We’d been married for two years and one month. They’d been together for two years. He cheated one month after our wedding. And hired Mrs. Higgins as our housekeeper just to move Tiffany in. Two years. I’d been played for two years. The short-haired girl spoke again. “Oh my God. You’re the housekeeper who has a crush on Tiffany’s boyfriend. Pathetic. Trying to steal him in public?” I laughed. Actually laughed. “Tiffany, still dreaming? What makes you think you’re worth me working as your maid?”

Before I could say another word, someone threw a drink in my face. The short-haired girl held an empty glass. Smirking. “You’re the one who needs to wake up!” “We all know who Tiffany is. Her mom runs a huge business. Her boyfriend owns a company. This whole villa is hers.” “And you? Look at what you’re wearing. Cheap knockoffs. No brand labels. You’re only good for scrubbing floors.” Cheap knockoffs? My clothes had no labels because they were custom couture. Hand-designed by masters. The other girls piled on, “Exactly. Apologize to Tiffany. Or you’ll lose your job too.” A guy spoke up. Sleazy tone: “Lady, you’re way too old to be competing with Tiffany. If you’re that desperate for a man, I can help. I’ve never tried someone in their thirties. One hundred dollars for the night?” Everyone laughed. I wiped the drink off my face. Stared at Gavin. “Gavin. I’m your wife. You’re going to stand there and let them insult me for your mistress? Don’t you dare regret this.” Gavin’s face was ice. “Tiffany’s my girlfriend. You brought this on yourself.” Vague. Cowardly. Tiffany stood taller. Seeing all her friends back her up, seeing Gavin on her side, she got bold. “Scarlett, I call you that because you’re older. But don’t forget your place. You can throw tantrums at home all you want. I don’t care if you disrespect me today. But Gavin is a man. All these people are watching. He’s a CEO. You slapped him in public. Did you think about his feelings?” She turned to Gavin. Voice soft. “Gavin, I may be young, but I know how to protect my man. I give you respect in public. Unlike… some people.” Double meaning. Hitting his ego. His insecurity. I laughed coldly. “You’re right. I forgot to slap you.” I grabbed her hair. Slap. Slap. Two hard hits across her face. Tiffany screamed. Covered her cheek. Sobbing. “You hit me! I won’t let you get away with this!” “Keep barking.” I raised my hand again. Gavin grabbed my wrist. Shoved me hard. I stumbled backward into the champagne tower. Crashed to the floor. Glass shards buried in my palm. Gavin didn’t even look at me. He pulled Tiffany into his arms. “Scarlett. Apologize to Tiffany. Now.” I stared at my bleeding hand. Bit down on the pain. Pulled the glass out piece by piece. Two years of marriage. Like glass shards. Cutting into me. Tiffany smiled at me from his arms. Triumphant. My voice went cold. “Gavin. You threw a birthday party for your mistress in my house. You cheated on me and now you want me to apologize to her? Are you brain-dead? Or do you think I’m a pushover? Don’t forget, I’m your legal wife. I gave you everything. I can take it all back. I can make you a broke nobody.”

Gavin’s eyes flickered. Tiffany jumped in first. “Scarlett, Gavin built his company with his own hard work and talent. He earned his wealth through his own ability. Don’t act like you helped him.” He couldn’t even read a basic business project. Talent? When he started his company, I gave him $100,000 from my family. I got him million-dollar contracts from my dad’s company. I didn’t want to hurt his pride, so I secretly transferred top managers from my dad’s firm to Gavin’s startup. He thought he was a genius. Why else would industry elites join his tiny company? It was all me. Without me, he’d never have gone from a startup to a company about to go public in two years. The guests started whispering, “She said this is her house. That Tiffany’s the mistress. Think it’s true?” “Maybe. The guy’s way older than Tiffany. I always said something was off.” “But he’s protecting her. Would a cheater be this bold?” “Let’s just watch. We’ll find out.” The short-haired girl snapped, “Stop speculating! This is Tiffany’s house. I’ve been here dozens of times. I’ve seen them sleep in the master bedroom. I’ve even met her mom. A real socialite.” I understood now. They’d been rolling around in my bed. Disgusting. Tiffany flashed the diamond ring on her finger. “This is my house. Everyone here can confirm it. You’re the one who should leave. Gavin, I don’t want to see her. Make her go.” Gavin nodded. “This is your house. Whatever makes you happy.” The short-haired girl grabbed my hair. Dragged me toward the door. “Have some self-awareness, lady. You can’t just steal someone’s boyfriend. Pathetic.” She yelled to the others, “Want to see what this homewrecker looks like naked? Let’s strip her! For Tiffany!” My eyes went wide. I covered my chest. Some of the guys moved forward. Started pulling at my clothes. I fought back. Screamed at Gavin. Begged him to stop them. Gavin frowned. Started to raise his hand. Tiffany grabbed it. “Gavin, relax. My friends know what they’re doing. They’re just standing up for me. And this way, you’ll have leverage over her later.” Gavin nodded. Pinched her cheek. They both watched as my clothes were torn apart. “Let me go! This is illegal!” The short-haired girl slapped me. “We’re doing you a favor. You like stealing men? We’ve got plenty of guys here. You should be grateful.” Her words hung in the air. I felt hands all over me. I was losing hope. Then a voice came from the door. “How’s my princess’s birthday going? Mommy’s gift just arrived.”

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I returned from London to find the wine missing. Not just any wine—three bottles of 1945 Romanée-Conti, worth five million dollars total, purchased specifically for my daughter Lily’s christening gala. I’d spent months hunting them down through private auction houses, authenticating every detail. Now they were gone. I stood frozen in our penthouse wine cellar, staring at the empty slots in the climate-controlled vault. My hands trembled as I pulled out my phone, scrolling through Instagram with mounting dread. There it was. Serena’s story from two hours ago: three bottles of burgundy positioned artfully on a marble table, surrounded by crystal glasses and elaborate floral arrangements. The caption read: “When your boss knows how to celebrate properly. Everyone says it’s the best wine they’ve ever tasted.” My vision blurred. Julian had commented below: “Only the best for you. If it made you smile, it was worth every penny.” I screenshot the post and opened the company Slack channel—the main one with all 200 employees. My fingers flew across the keyboard. Charlotte Vance: Interesting. Julian can’t afford to buy his assistant birthday wine, so he steals from his daughter’s christening instead? How thoughtful. I attached the screenshot. My phone immediately exploded with notifications, but I ignored them. I was shaking so hard I had to sit down on the Persian rug in our living room. The phone rang. Julian. “Charlotte, what the hell is wrong with you?” His voice was sharp, impatient. “You’re being insane over a few bottles of wine?” “A few bottles—” “I don’t have time for this childish tantrum. Buy more if you want them so badly. I’m not dealing with your drama right now—Serena’s about to give her presentation to the Singapore investors. We’ll talk later.” The line went dead. I stared at my phone, a bitter laugh escaping my throat. Family thieves were always the hardest to guard against. The phone rang again. Different number. “Mrs. Thorne? This is Madison from Portrait Atelier. Just a reminder that your appointment for Lily’s family portraits is in an hour. Don’t forget to come early for wardrobe selection!” I checked my watch. Fifty-three minutes. Julian was… at Serena’s birthday party. I was silent for a long moment. “Change it to just me and my daughter. Her father won’t be attending.” “Oh! That’s—if Mr. Thorne is busy, we can absolutely reschedule to a more convenient—” “No. Today. Just us.” I hung up. If he couldn’t be bothered to prioritize his daughter, I wouldn’t waste time waiting for him. — Portrait Atelier occupied the entire twentieth floor of a building in Tribeca, all exposed brick and natural light. The staff greeted me with careful smiles—a mixture of pity and awkward sympathy. I barely noticed. I just wanted this done. The stylist led me to the viewing area while another assistant prepared Lily’s wardrobe. “We’ll pull up some sample shots for inspiration while you wait, Mrs. Thorne.” I nodded absently, settling into the velvet chair with Lily sleeping in my arms. The monitor flickered to life. My heart stopped. There, in crisp high-definition, was Julian in a charcoal Tom Ford tuxedo. Beside him, Serena wore a white Vera Wang gown, her hand resting possessively on his chest as she gazed up at him with practiced adoration. Wedding photos. They were fucking wedding photos. The stylist, oblivious to the blood draining from my face, smiled brightly. “Oh, those two! They came in last week to pick up their prints. Such a sweet couple—we’re actually thinking of using these shots for our portfolio. The chemistry is just—” She finally looked at me and froze. “Mrs. Thorne? Are you… alright?” Lily, sensing my distress, began to wail.

“Just—” My voice cracked. “Just pick whatever you think works. I’ll be back.” I practically ran out, clutching my screaming daughter, my vision swimming. I paid the balance at the front desk without looking at anyone and escaped into the elevator. Back at the penthouse, I finally got Lily calmed down and settled in her bassinet. My phone had been vibrating non-stop. The Slack channel was in absolute chaos. I opened it. Serena had @’d me with a carefully crafted message: Serena Walsh: I apologize, Charlotte. I understand you have concerns about me, but today’s situation is truly a misunderstanding. The wine was a personal gift from Julian for my hard work on the Singapore project—I had no idea it was meant for Lily’s christening. Today’s party was Julian’s way of celebrating both my birthday and the successful deal we just closed. Your outburst has embarrassed him in front of major partners. If this deal falls through because of the hostile work environment you’ve created, the losses will be far more than a few bottles of wine… but I suppose that’s on me for accepting the gift. I should have known better. The classic passive-aggressive victim routine. Poor little Serena, just trying to do her job, caught in the crossfire of a jealous wife. Before I could respond, Julian’s message appeared: Julian Thorne: @Charlotte Vance Serena has apologized. She’s offered to reimburse you. What more do you want? Do you really need to air our private issues in front of the entire company? You’re making us both look ridiculous. This petty jealousy over a few bottles of wine is beneath you. Grow up. Employees started chiming in immediately: David K.: Honestly, Charlotte, Serena has been working 80-hour weeks on the Singapore deal. A little recognition seems reasonable. Michelle R.: Women need to support women. Serena’s just trying to do her job. This seems like overkill for some wine… Tom S.: Julian’s under a lot of pressure. Maybe cut him some slack? I watched the messages pile up—defending Serena, chastising me, painting me as the hysterical, jealous wife having a meltdown over nothing. Something inside me went very, very quiet. The rage evaporated, replaced by crystal clarity. I typed slowly, deliberately: Charlotte Vance: Perfect. Three bottles at $5 million total. I expect the wire transfer to my account by tomorrow morning. Thanks. I hit send. Then I tapped “Leave Channel” and watched the chaos disappear. Silence. — It hadn’t always been like this. Julian and I had been solid—or so I’d thought. But then Serena joined the company eight months ago, right as I entered my third trimester. While I was on bed rest, Julian was hiking the Catskills with Serena for “team building.” He started coming home later. Mentioning her name more. Serena thinks we should pivot to Asian markets. Serena landed us a meeting with the Singaporeans. Serena stayed late again to prep the pitch deck. I’d convinced myself I was being paranoid. Pregnancy hormones. Exhaustion. But after Lily was born, it got worse. While our daughter screamed through the night, Julian was at the office with Serena. Late dinners. Weekend “strategy sessions.” That’s when I knew. His heart had left our home long ago. I stared at my sleeping daughter, then opened my messages and typed: To: Marcus Goldstein, Esq. I need a divorce attorney. Fast. I paused, finger hovering over send. The christening gala was in two days. If we announced a divorce now, the whispers would follow Lily for years. “Born just before her parents split.” “The christening where everything fell apart.” I deleted the message. I’d wait until after the gala. For Lily’s sake. But I called my father. “Daddy? I need you to source more 1945 Romanée-Conti. Yes, I know they’re nearly impossible to find. No, I can’t explain right now. Can you try?” He managed to locate two bottles through his connections—not the same vintage year, but close enough. They’d have to do. The christening gala was going to happen. With or without Julian.

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The day my wife went to the airport to pick up her first love Damien Sterling—freshly returned from overseas—two children fell down at the same time. I helped our son Ryan first. I didn’t immediately rush to help Damien’s son, Adrian. She turned on her heel and had me and Ryan shipped off to a desolate monastery in the Alaskan wilderness. Said we needed to learn some compassion and humility. Life at Frostpeak Monastery was brutal—starvation, freezing temperatures, isolation. Three years later, Ryan was frozen to death. The day we buried him, my wife Victoria arrived at the monastery with Damien by her side. She said she needed Ryan’s bone marrow to see if it would match Adrian’s. The boy had leukemia. I told her Ryan was dead. She sneered. “Three years, and you haven’t changed one bit. Just because you don’t want to save Adrian, you’d actually curse your own son? You’d lie about something like this?” Her eyes flashed with contempt. “Let me tell you something, Ethan. I don’t care if Ryan’s alive or dead. Even if he really is gone, I’ll dig up his coffin myself and see if his bone marrow is still viable.” — I was forced to stand at the monastery gates, waiting for our “honored guests.” What I didn’t expect was that the guest would be Victoria herself—the woman who’d callously sent me and our son to suffer in this godforsaken place. Three years. Three whole years without seeing her. The first words out of her mouth? “So. Have you reflected on what you did wrong?” I stared at those cold, beautiful eyes. For a moment, I’d almost forgotten why we were here in the first place. Then it all came rushing back. Two kids had fallen. I’d helped Ryan up first. Victoria had just returned from the airport with Damien. She saw me helping our son while Damien rushed to comfort little Adrian. She’d frowned, furious. Told me I was petty. Small-minded. “Adrian’s only staying with us temporarily. Now that Damien’s back, he’ll take him home soon. I didn’t think you’d be this jealous. Can’t you be the bigger person for just a few days?” She’d looked so disappointed in me. “Take your son. Go to Frostpeak Monastery. Stay there until you’ve learned to be better. When you’ve changed, you can come home.” And just like that, Ryan and I were sent to this remote, freezing hellhole. We barely had enough to eat. The cold was unforgiving. Occasionally, wild animals would prowl too close. Victoria never visited. Not once. I pulled myself back to the present and gave her a flat “Yeah.” Her expression softened slightly. Then she got to the point. “Adrian has leukemia. I need Ryan to do a bone marrow compatibility test. Since it’s for Adrian, I’m being generous enough to come get you both myself.” I swallowed the bitter taste rising in my throat. “You can’t take him,” I said quietly. “As for me…” I let out a hollow laugh. “I’m staying here. With my son.” Victoria’s face darkened instantly. “What’s that supposed to mean? Adrian is dying, and you’ve become this selfish, petty shell of a man? This is a child’s LIFE we’re talking about!” She didn’t know it, but every word she spoke felt like a knife twisting deeper into my chest. Damien stepped forward, his voice dripping with false humility. “Ethan, I know you resent me and Adrian. I know Victoria sent you and Ryan here three years ago because of us. I’m sorry.” He lowered his head, the picture of contrition. “If you let Ryan do the compatibility test, I’ll do anything—anything—to make it up to you.” Victoria grabbed his hand, her voice soft and soothing. “Don’t apologize to him. He’s the one who was in the wrong! Ryan is MY son. I carried him for nine months, I gave birth to him. Ethan has no right to keep him from me.” She glared at me, eyes burning. I stared back, silent. She took a deep breath. Then she barked orders at her security team. “Search every inch of this place. Tear it apart if you have to. Find Ryan. NOW.” Her tone left no room for argument. The monks nearby exchanged uneasy glances. Father Thomas, the head of the monastery, stepped forward. “Ma’am, it’s not that Mr. Cross doesn’t want to help. It’s just… the boy—” “Just WHAT?” Victoria cut him off with a cold laugh. Father Thomas sighed heavily. “Young Ryan… passed away seven days ago. He froze to death.” Victoria froze for a split second. Then her face twisted with fury. “Ryan is dead?” Her voice was ice. “Is that what you’re telling me, Ethan?” I said nothing. My silence was answer enough. She swept her arm across the table, shattering a glass tumbler. “Three YEARS, Ethan! Three years, and you haven’t grown AT ALL! You’re so determined not to save Adrian that you’d actually curse your own son! You’d LIE about his death!” She leaned in close, her voice venomous. “Let me be clear. I don’t care if Ryan’s dead or alive. If he really is gone, I’ll dig up his coffin myself and check if his bone marrow is still usable!”

Victoria’s eyes burned with a determination that would accept no refusal. She couldn’t understand it. How had Ethan—gentle, kind Ethan—turned into this unrecognizable stranger? On the drive up to Frostpeak, she’d still been daydreaming about their future together. She’d planned to tell him the truth. Three years ago, sending him and Ryan away had been a desperate move. The Sterling Corporation was in chaos back then. To stabilize things, she’d had to pretend to be married to Damien. She couldn’t risk anyone finding out about Ethan and Ryan, so she’d made up an excuse and sent them somewhere “safe.” Remote, yes. But safe. She’d always planned to bring them back. But work got overwhelming. The company needed her. One day turned into another, and she kept putting it off. She’d convinced herself it was fine. Ethan was so sweet-natured, so forgiving. She’d just charm him a little, apologize, and he’d forgive her. He always forgave her. As for Ryan—sure, she’d been annoyed when he was born and started stealing Ethan’s attention away from her. But he was their son. Their flesh and blood. She’d make it up to him. She’d already commissioned a private playground to be built just for him. There was no way the kid could resist that. He’d forgive her for some toys and treats. She would make up for everything they’d suffered these past three years. But then Adrian got sick. Leukemia. When the doctors said Ryan’s bone marrow might be a match, she’d been overjoyed. Couldn’t sleep for days. Finally, she had the perfect excuse to bring them home. Except Ethan had changed. He was lying to her. Saying Ryan was dead. Frozen to death. What a joke. She’d sent supplies every single month for three years. Made sure they had everything they needed. That’s what made his ridiculous lie so infuriating. The rage boiled over. She grabbed Ethan’s wrist, gripping it hard. Staring into his eyes. “Give me back my gentle Ethan,” she thought.” He’s not supposed to be like this.” After a moment, her eyes reddened. She loosened her grip slightly, afraid of hurting him. “Just apologize,” she thought desperately.” Say you’re sorry and I’ll let this all go.” She watched him intently, her lips trembling. Ethan opened his mouth. And said: “Victoria, our son is really dead. You killed him.” “If you hadn’t sent us to this hellhole without a second thought, he’d still be alive.” Each word was a dagger to her heart. He wasn’t just lying—he was trying to blame HER. This man wasn’t the Ethan she knew anymore. She let go of his wrist and stepped back, defeated. When she looked up again, her eyes were cold and resolved. But before she could speak, one of her men came running over. “Mrs. Sterling! We found the boy!”

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