Author: Momo Chan

I was with Caleb for ten years. I tattooed his favorite flower, a gardenia, on my collarbone. When he finally agreed to marry me, he was keeping an 18-year-old girl on the side. Before our wedding, he indulged in her “breakup countdown.” He took her bungee jumping, skiing, and flew her to Iceland to see the Northern Lights. But he didn’t know I was dying. I booked a flight out of the country, donated his entire net worth, and got my tattoos lasered off. While he was counting down the days to our wedding, I was planning my escape. 01 On the day I was diagnosed with terminal stomach cancer, the young girl Caleb was keeping on the side came to find me. “I know I’m the other woman.” The girl’s opening line was terrifyingly earnest. She bit her lip. “I know you guys are getting married soon, but—” “Caleb doesn’t love you anymore.” “I’ve been with him for a year. We’ve slept together seventy-eight times. Fifty-three times in hotels, twenty-one times at my place.” “And four times at your house, in your bed.” 她 looked at me bluntly. “If Caleb still loved you, I wouldn’t even exist.” I found it almost funny. I lit a cigarette, looking at her through the haze of smoke. “What else? Keep going.” So she pulled out her phone and played a video for me. The angle was hidden, like it was secretly recorded. The girl was curled up in Caleb’s arms, crying. “Even if you have to marry her out of responsibility, can you please not abandon me?” Caleb pushed her away gently and tossed a bank card onto the table. “Find a stable guy. Being with me is no good for you. It’s too dangerous.” “No!” She wrapped her arms around his waist, pouting. “I’m not afraid of danger.” “Can you please not throw me away?” “Caleb, I won’t be a burden to you. I swear.” Caleb froze for a second. His gaze swept across her face, and for a brief moment, he looked completely lost. Then, he leaned in and kissed her. 02 I stubbed out my cigarette. The girl was exactly eighteen. Her face was full of youthful collagen; she was genuinely pure and innocent. And, the very first time I saw her, I knew. She looked like me. She looked exactly like the eighteen-year-old Tara. “You’re right about one thing. If Caleb still loved me, you wouldn’t exist.” I stood up. My stomach was actually throbbing in pain. I leaned against the table, careful not to show it. “But I advise you not to fall too deep. Caleb has never loved you, nor does he love me.” “He only loves the Tara from his memories.” The pure, beautiful Tara who died years ago on the bloody path helping him rise to the top. “In a few years, he’ll find a new replacement, and you’ll end up even more miserable than me.” I was actually lying to her. I was about to die. How could she possibly end up more miserable than me? At worst, she’d just get dumped when Caleb got bored of her. 03 I gave myself to Caleb when I was eighteen. I grew up without parents. The grandmother who raised me passed away when I was fifteen. Caleb appeared right around then. He pursued me fiercely. He threw money around recklessly, wanting to lay the best of everything in the world at my feet. He was handsome, and he gave me a profound sense of security. I fell for him fast. On my nineteenth birthday, he coaxed me into tasting the forbidden fruit. That night. From pain to complete surrender. I became entirely his. The next day, Caleb took me to meet his crew. I had never been exposed to a scene like that. I timidly held onto his jacket, quietly greeting everyone as he introduced me. The way they looked at me was full of mockery. “Caleb, why’d you get yourself such a little girl?” “She’s too sweet. She’s gonna be a liability.” Back then, I didn’t know what “liability” meant to them. I couldn’t help but defend myself quietly, “I won’t be.” “I won’t be a burden to Caleb.” I swore it. But later, as I slowly integrated into his world, I realized exactly what kind of life he led. It was a life lived on the edge of a knife. To avoid being a burden, to be able to stand by his side, I forced myself to adapt to that brutal environment. Ten years. I cut my hair short. I dyed it. I started smoking. I got tattoos. I even collected countless scars across my body. Because I was ruthless enough, I helped Caleb climb to become the second-in-command of the Chicago underworld. But Caleb didn’t seem happy. Countless nights. He would hold me in his arms, his fingers tracing the scars on my body, leaning down to kiss them. “Tara.” He would bury his face in my chest and sigh. “I still prefer the way you used to be.” And after a moment of stunned silence, I would always push him away, light a cigarette, and laugh. “Caleb, saying that is a real dick move.” 04 It was past midnight when Caleb came home. I was lying in bed. I wasn’t asleep. I was just staring into the darkness. Until Caleb pulled me into his arms. “Not asleep yet?” He leaned down to kiss me, but I dodged. He froze for a second, then suppressed his temper and hugged me. “Who pissed you off? I’ll go chop them up right now, okay?” “Caleb.” “Yeah.” The room was so dark I couldn’t see his face. But I could smell the gardenia perfume lingering on his clothes. “Let’s break up.” Caleb stiffened. Then he let go, rolling over to lie on his back next to me. “What is it now?” He pinched the bridge of his nose in annoyance. “You’re not a little girl anymore. Why are you acting so dramatic?” “Break up?” He chuckled. “Tara, you’re not young anymore. Who else is going to marry a woman who smokes, drinks, has tattoos, and handles business more ruthlessly than most men?” My chest seized. I pressed my hand hard against my heart, but I couldn’t suppress the dense, agonizing pain. Last year, when my arm got sliced open, I was allergic to the local anesthesia. Twelve stitches, completely raw, and I gritted my teeth without making a single sound. But Caleb’s drunken truths made my eyes burn with tears. “Caleb,” I couldn’t help but ask, “if I got a terminal illness, would you…” “Tara.” He cut me off, irritation clear in his voice. “Stop asking stupid questions.” “If you get a terminal illness, I’ll commit suicide with you. Happy?” He rubbed his temples. “I’m busy with the wedding and business lately. I don’t have the energy to coax you. Stop throwing tantrums.” Just then, his phone rang. Caleb rejected the call in frustration. But the person called back again. After a few rounds of this, Caleb got out of bed with his phone. “Speak.” A girl’s crying voice filtered through the receiver, muffled but audible. Caleb cursed under his breath. “So fucking annoying.” Despite saying that, he quickly grabbed his coat and headed for the door. “There’s a problem with the business. I have to go handle it.” “Go to sleep. Don’t wait up for me.” 05 Caleb and I set our wedding date for the third of next month. A simple ceremony. I never told Caleb about my illness. Late-stage. Basically incurable. I also never told him that I had zero intention of marrying him. I could accept everything about Caleb. Everything except betrayal. Just thinking about him holding another woman, kissing her face, searching for the shadow of my youth in her… it made my stomach churn. It made me sick. I gave myself to him at eighteen. It had been exactly ten years. Now, the doctors said I had about six months left to live. Looking back, I wasted the best years of my life on him. For the little time I had left, I just wanted to be Tara. I booked a flight out of the country. I wanted to use whatever strength I had left to see the world I loved but had never actually explored. And I booked that flight for the third of next month. 06 Early in the morning, I crossed out another day on the calendar. Ten days left until my flight. The sound of the front door opening came from behind me. Caleb walked in, bringing the winter chill with him. He took off his coat and walked over to hug me. He still didn’t like my short hair. His eyes followed mine to the calendar. Seeing the date heavily circled on the third, he chuckled and gently pinched my cheek. “Can’t wait to marry me?” He counted. “Ten days left.” He buried his face in my neck. “I’ll make time in the next couple of days to go with you to dye your hair black again, maybe get extensions?” “You’ll look beautiful at the wedding.” “No need.” I looked at the calendar blankly. “There’s not much time left.” “Short hair is fine.” Caleb stayed silent for a long moment. “Alright.” He let go, picking up the coat he had draped over the chair. “There’s a lot to do for the wedding. Mack’s turf got smashed up yesterday. I’m busy, so I won’t be coming home for a while.” Caleb stared at me as he spoke. Like he was waiting for me to yield. Waiting for me to say, Okay, come with me to dye my hair. Let’s get extensions. But I just stared back at him indifferently. “Go.” “Anyway, it’s only ten days.” Caleb didn’t say another word. He turned and walked back out into the dark. He never looked back. 07 With seven days left until the wedding, I went to a tattoo parlor on the outskirts of the city. The owner was a woman in her thirties, well-maintained but with eyes full of deep weariness. She glanced at me. “What are we doing?” I rolled up my sleeve, pointing to the “CS” on my wrist, and then exposed the gardenia below my collarbone. “Remove both of them.” She took a look. “Laser removal hurts. And it’ll scar.” I smiled. “I’m not afraid.” Pain was the last thing I was afraid of right now. As for scarring— I had so many scars all over my body, two more wouldn’t make a difference. Besides, in six months, this body would probably just be a pile of ash anyway. The owner chatted with me as she prepped. “Breakup?” I smiled. “Yeah. Soon.” “Seven days left.” She clicked her tongue. “So ceremonial. A breakup with a countdown?” Maybe the shop was just quiet, or maybe we just clicked, but the moment I saw her, I felt like we were the same kind of people. We talked about the past. When Caleb first pursued me, I gave him a deadline. Three hundred days. If he could stick it out, I’d be his. So, every single morning, Caleb would show up in front of me and count the days. “One hundred and seventy-nine days left.” “Tara, ninety-six days until you’re my girlfriend.” “One day left, future girlfriend.” … The boy who relentlessly pursued me for three hundred days through rain and shine… Had slowly grown tired of me over the next ten years. I hit it off with the owner. As she lasered off the ink, I told her the meaning behind the two tattoos. The “CS” on my wrist was done on our one-year anniversary. I had been kidnapped by a rival gang to threaten him. Caleb went to the drop alone to save me. He knew it was a suicide mission, but he went without hesitation. He was almost hacked to death that day. When he was discharged from the hospital, I went to a parlor and got his initials on my wrist. Back then, I naively thought I was locked in with Caleb for life. But that night, when I proudly showed Caleb my still-red, swollen wrist, he just froze. He didn’t give me the touched reaction I expected. He frowned, asked me why I did it, and asked if it hurt. Finally, he pulled me into his arms. “Don’t do this again. I don’t like it.” “I don’t like it when you hurt yourself.” “You’re perfect just the way you are. You don’t need to change. I love a clean, flawless Tara.” I was young then, and I just thought he was worried about me. I didn’t realize Caleb had actually spoken his true feelings. And the gardenia on my chest was tattooed the day Caleb swore he would marry me by the time I was twenty-eight. Caleb loved gardenias. He loved their pure, flawless white. So I tattooed one on my chest. Waiting for Caleb to marry me. Now, Caleb had finally set the wedding date for my twenty-eighth year. He was busy planning the wedding seven days away. While I was planning how to leave him. Even though my body was ruined, I still didn’t want to leave this world bearing any mark of him. I pointed to the other side of my collarbone and told the owner. “Tattoo a trumpet vine right here.” Caleb loved gardenias. But I preferred the trumpet vine. He wanted me pure and flawless. But in my final days, I insisted on being the wild, untamed vine climbing over the high walls.

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I married my murderer. After the wedding, I played the perfect, subservient wife. I always took off my makeup after he fell asleep and put it back on before he woke up. My husband bragged about it on his livestream, saying this is the self-awareness every woman should have. A viewer warned him in the chat: [Run. Only skinwalkers put on makeup in the middle of the night. The more their stolen skin rots, the thicker the makeup. It won’t be long before she changes skins and eats you!] I covered my face and smirked. Oops, forgot the concealer. The livor mortis is showing. 01 My husband is my murderer, but I don’t care. I was ten minutes late getting home from the grocery store. In front of tens of thousands of viewers on his livestream, Caleb roared at me, “Where the hell have you been? Go kneel in the corner!” As I obediently knelt, the viewers who used to be outraged had become numb. [A gorgeous girl with an abusive guy, and she even paid him a massive dowry just to marry him. What is wrong with the world!] [Making his wife dance in the snow in a swimsuit just for views. He’s the king of scumbags.] [Give up trying to save her. Lawyers have contacted her, but she won’t listen. She said she’s committed to this man for life. They’re locked in.] Caleb’s livestream was dedicated to filming me serving his entire family, finding new ways to humiliate me to farm views. By the time he allowed me to stand up, the foundation on my knees had rubbed off, exposing the terrifying, purplish-red livor mortis. Oops. I quickly covered it with my purse. Foundation meant for the living just doesn’t have the staying power. It rubs off easily, especially in the summer. Luckily, the camera didn’t catch it, and I calmly changed into a maxi skirt. On camera, my makeup was flawless, rivaling any influencer. Combined with my tireless, uncomplaining demeanor, the male viewers were bursting with envy, begging Caleb to share his “wife-taming” secrets. My husband shamelessly bragged, “Dealing with women, the key is to never give them an inch.” “I told her I like pretty women, and she’s never dared to be bare-faced in front of me! She always takes her makeup off after I’m asleep and puts it on before I wake up.” “As a wife, satisfying your husband’s visual needs is the most basic virtue!” Amidst the viewers’ praise and condemnation. A conspicuous message scrolled across the chat. [Your wife is a skinwalker. Only the dead put on makeup in the middle of the night.] [Does she only do her makeup at 3 AM? Because that’s when the yin energy is heaviest, making the makeup hold best!] 02 Caleb laughed uproariously. What kind of nonsense was this? The account was named “Mystic Fish,” and the bio said he was a novice occultist. The guy was persistent, continuing to type despite being mocked. [You’ve been married for three years, right? That’s a skinwalker’s limit. She’s been taking longer and longer to do her makeup lately, hasn’t she?] [Skinwalkers need human vitality to sustain themselves. Is she clinging to you 24/7, refusing to leave your side? Every time you’re intimate, you get sick right after.] This made Caleb pause. It was true. He was strong and healthy before the wedding, but since getting married, he’s been constantly dealing with minor illnesses. His wife was obsessed with his skin; once, when he burned himself with a cigarette, she almost cried in distress. [Almost cried, but no tears fell. Corpses can’t produce tears. Have you ever actually seen her cry?] No, he hadn’t. Caleb suddenly panicked a little. “Why should I believe you?” [Put a few drops of mugwort extract into her makeup remover tonight. Mugwort has strong yang energy. If a skinwalker uses it, their face will rot.] [Whether she’s human or a corpse, one test will tell.] 03 I gratefully accepted the makeup remover my husband gave me. Caleb stared at me for a long time before letting out a sigh of relief. “Look at this pathetic, desperate look. A skinwalker?” The young occultist remained dead serious. [The three of you—you, your wife, and your father—all have birthdays in the same month. That’s a rare aligned fate. If a skinwalker consumes you, it’s a massive power boost.] [In three days, on your birthday, that’s when the skinwalker will start the slaughter.] Caleb was an only child. After we married, we lived in his family’s custom-built house on the outskirts of town. My mother-in-law was famously cheap in the surrounding area. Any takeout Caleb couldn’t finish, she’d let it sit until it smelled sour before giving it to me. Every day, she’d “thoughtfully” leave me two small dishes: one plain boiled cabbage, one pickled radishes. “This is for your own good. Too much grease and you’ll get fat, and my son will definitely cheat on you!” I thanked her. After all, skinwalkers don’t have metabolisms, and our stomachs don’t digest. Eating too much meat makes the stench of death stronger. On Caleb’s last birthday, he surprisingly gave me a small piece of BBQ pork. I suppressed my disgust and ate it, then spent half the day throwing up, losing six months of my cultivation. While gnawing on the pickled radishes, I personally served the delicious food and drinks to my mother-in-law. Watching her increasingly plump figure, I felt a deep satisfaction. Fantasizing about the texture of her skin and flesh when harvest time comes, I swallowed hard to hold back my drool. “As long as you eat well, drink well, and are happy, that’s my greatest wish.” Mood directly affects the pH level of the meat, after all. In the middle of the night, after my husband fell asleep and started snoring, I tiptoed to the bathroom to remove my makeup. Girls, even dead ones, care about their appearance. My makeup routine takes a long time. After removing the patchy, caked-on foundation, fake eyelashes, and colored contacts, I have to do basic moisturizing to make the makeup last longer. After concealing the livor mortis, I use the “sandwich method” to set it. The moment the makeup wipe touched my face, a burning sensation hit me. Right then, I felt a chilling gaze staring at my back. I jerked my head around. The door, which I had locked, had been pushed open at some point. Caleb stood in the doorway, his face dark and menacing. “Audrey, turn around. Let me see your face.” 04 Skinwalkers lack the five senses. But I felt a faint sweat seeping from my pores all over my body. Before coming in, the occultist had DM’d Caleb. [Rub ox tears on your phone’s camera lens. It will let everyone see ghosts and monsters, forcing her to reveal her true form so she can’t hide!] Caleb didn’t really believe the occultist, but seeing the viewer count skyrocketing on his livestream… And the constant stream of digital gifts being thrown at him, he immediately stepped toward me, raising his voice: “Making a fuss every night! Is your bare face really that hideous?” Wearing my pajamas, I covered my face and sobbed, looking so wronged I might pass out. Many people in the chat told him to let it go, saying the occultist was definitely just making things up for clout. Caleb grabbed my cold wrist and roughly yanked my chin up. “The viewers paid! Even if I tell you to strip naked, you have to strip! Disobey me, and I’ll beat you to death right now!” Helpless, I slowly poured out the makeup remover. The moment I wiped it off, Caleb, and everyone in the livestream, held their breath. But the skin under the foundation remained flawlessly smooth and supple. Caleb’s tense expression instantly relaxed, and he started cursing the occultist for being a fraud. The chat joined in. [Tormenting people in the middle of the night, hasn’t the poor girl suffered enough!] [I bet the three of them are in on it together. Traffic is higher at 3 AM than during the day!] The young occultist pondered for three seconds, then realization struck. [I get it! Today is February 29th, a leap day! It’s hard to distinguish between yin and yang energies today. The skinwalker’s body will become no different from a normal human’s!] I was actually quite surprised. I didn’t know who this occultist’s master was, but he had some skills. He actually figured out my origins. [She’s not an ordinary skinwalker. She’s a vengeful corpse fueled by extreme resentment, so ordinary mugwort is useless against her.] His tone became deadly serious. [What exactly did you do to her to create such immense resentment?!] 05 Furious and embarrassed, Caleb blocked the occultist. To give himself an out, he feigned disgust at my bare face and warned me not to go out without makeup and scare people. I smiled and said, “Of course.” See, he had long forgotten this face. Forgotten the girl he strangled with his own hands four years ago. Well, it makes sense. That night was pitch black, it was raining in the woods, and I was beaten bloody and bruised during my struggle. My face was ruined. All four of my limbs were broken. When he was finally satisfied with his assault and locked his hands tightly around my neck… I was still begging pathetically: “Don’t kill me. I swear I won’t tell anyone… Please, my grandma is waiting for me…” Please, I’m a senior in college, and I just got accepted into a top grad program. I haven’t even told my grandma the good news yet. That little old lady scrimped and saved to put me through school. She ruined her eyes working but wouldn’t spend a dime to see a doctor. She hasn’t enjoyed a single day of comfort from her granddaughter. She really can’t afford to lose me. But Caleb just smirked lewdly and tightened his grip on my throat. My body convulsed uncontrollably, tears streamed down my face, and a sharp crack echoed from my cervical vertebrae. And just like that, I died. Right before I died, I thought I saw my grandma. Wearing her faded, washed-out thin coat, sitting eagerly at the yard gate, while my favorite beef and vermicelli buns steamed in the kitchen. She’d reheat them endlessly, always wanting her good granddaughter to have a hot meal the moment she got home. She didn’t know I had been discarded deep in the woods. Stripped of my dignity, my future, and my life. In the rotting stench, my resentment refused to dissipate, turning me into a monster that was neither human nor ghost—a skinwalker. When I used a new face to ask the matchmaker to arrange a marriage, she asked me what I was after. I smiled gently, acting shy, and said I just wanted him. I wanted him for this unending— Blood debt. 06 The Caleb family’s death day… no, birthdays were approaching. When I presented the family of three with clothes I tailored myself, Caleb’s face fell slightly. Because before the occultist was blocked, he had warned him. [If the skinwalker gives you clothes, do absolutely NOT wear them. They do that to make skinning you easier!] I didn’t move my eyes, just slowly turned my head, a smile forming on my lips: “Honey, why aren’t you trying it on?” Caleb secretly unblocked the occultist. [She’s giving you burial clothes! The cranes embroidered on clothes for the living have their wings folded down. Only burial clothes have cranes with open wings, symbolizing the soul flying to heaven!] The fans in the livestream were rolling their eyes: [Please, it’s called ‘modern vintage’. It’s super trendy right now.] Seeing that no one believed him, the young occultist got anxious: [Count the buttons! Burial clothes use an odd number of buttons. The satin material symbolizes the end of the bloodline. Burial clothes require the hands to be covered, and every single piece of clothing she gave you has sleeves longer than your hands. No, the skinwalker is about to become a demon. I’m taking a bus to save you right now!] Caleb compared the clothes, and it was true. He was originally only half-believing, but seeing the massive influx of viewers, an idea sparked. He deliberately acted as if he believed completely and immediately sent a deposit to the occultist. He even hyped it up: “Fam, if you want to see an occultist battle a beautiful skinwalker, remember to tip and subscribe!” Who knew that on Caleb’s birthday, a murder would actually happen in the house. Only, the person who died was my father-in-law. 07 My father-in-law’s body was torn to pieces, a gruesome sight. On his way home from sneaking around with his old flame, he got drunk and tumbled down a slope, where wild wolves ate more than half his body. But strangely, his lower half was completely gone, and most of the skin and flesh on his head had been gnawed off. Yet, the clothes I had sewn for him remained perfectly intact on his body. Now, the new clothes really had become burial clothes. Caleb knelt before his father’s corpse, bewildered: “Why him first… Wait, didn’t you say it would go in order of our birthdays? Damn it, that occultist lied to me again!” As I wailed and cried alongside my mother-in-law, I couldn’t help but curl my lips into an eerie smile. Yes, my father-in-law could have lived a few more days. But who told him to discover my secret. That day, I had secretly gone to see my grandma. The little old lady’s legs had gone bad again. Ever since I disappeared, she had been running around with my photo every day for the past four years, looking for me. When someone mocked her, saying the college student she raised didn’t respect herself and must have run off with a rich guy, my grandma went crazy, grabbed a hoe, and almost fought them to the death. “You goddamn filthy scumbag! Say one more word about my granddaughter, and I’ll show you what this old woman is capable of!” The police found my missing backpack and bloodstains in the woods, concluding that I had been murdered. But my grandma stubbornly believed that without a body, her granddaughter was fine. “The fortune teller said my granddaughter is destined to live to a hundred!” For four years, she went to the county police station every single week without fail to ask for updates. Even the police didn’t know what to do with this stubborn old woman. The mountain roads were tough; a round trip took four hours. How could her legs hold up? I stood outside the yard, watching her burn up with a fever, her mouth still murmuring my childhood nickname. She was so weak she couldn’t even lift her hand, couldn’t even get a sip of hot water. A corpse shouldn’t have a heart, but pain rooted itself in my chest. A dense, inescapable ache. I chopped wood, boiled water, and while she slept, refilled her cup, placing it right where she could reach it. I didn’t dare stay long. Skinwalkers can’t stay around the living for too long. Corpse energy is toxic. I lived day and night with the Caleb family of three, and the corpse poison had long invaded their organs. I was just waiting for the perfect, auspicious day to gut them and feast. But as soon as I got home, my father-in-law cornered me at the door, giving me a creepy smile. “I finally figured out where you sneak off to every afternoon before grocery shopping!” Seeing me play dumb, he dragged me in front of a mirror, looking triumphant. “Keep playing dumb. Look at what’s on your neck!” That’s when I realized the steam from boiling the water had melted the foundation on my neck. The dark red livor mortis underneath was fully exposed. My chest stopped moving, and my eyes narrowed dangerously. That was the sign a skinwalker was about to feast. But my father-in-law didn’t notice. He grabbed my waist, a lecherous smile on his face. “Cheating on my son, huh? Tell me, which bastard left those hickeys on your neck?” 08 My father-in-law was a creep. He had stolen my underwear several times. He would also quickly grab my waist when walking past me. My mother-in-law knew all this. She played blind and even encouraged it: “It’s nice having free eye candy at home. Don’t go wasting money on hussies outside!” That night, I was taking a shower when the bathroom light suddenly went out. Accompanied by heavy panting, my father-in-law slipped in and roughly pinned me to the floor. I faked a cry for help. “Stop pretending. I got rid of Caleb and his mother earlier. Now it’s just the two of us!” He grinned maliciously, lowering his voice: “What’s so great about my son? He yells at you all the time. Be with me, and I guarantee I’ll treat you right…” He couldn’t wait and grabbed my shoulders. As he rubbed, a whole patch of skin on my shoulder peeled off like soft tofu skin. My father-in-law realized something was wrong. The light flickered back on. He instinctively raised his hand and finally saw that he was holding a wet, wrinkled piece of human skin. Then, with a crack, my head twisted ninety degrees. The moment our eyes met, his gaze trembled, and he was so terrified he forgot to breathe. I smiled, my voice stiff and slow. “Just the two of us? Then I guess it’s time to dig in.”

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I am a 911 dispatcher. Eight years ago, I took a frantic call from a little girl begging for help. She said she was being kidnapped, but over the phone, an adult took the receiver and explained it was just a prank. I believed them and hung up the phone. The very next day, the little girl’s body was found. Eight years later, my headset chimed, and I heard that exact same plea for help: “Help me… I’ve been kidnapped.” 01 On my very first day on the job, I received a strange call. There was nothing but faint, shallow panting on the other end of the line. I repeatedly asked if there was a medical emergency, if they needed an ambulance. After a long silence, a tiny, breathless voice finally whispered through the static. “Help me. I’ve been kidnapped.” I panicked, scrambling to pull up the trace, but my senior colleague next to me brushed it off. “Just another kid playing with a cell phone. We’ve been getting a ton of these lately. Clear it quick, don’t tie up the lines.” The little girl said her name was Ducky, and she was seven years old. When I pressed for details, she stammered, her words disjointed and nonsensical. “Ducky really wants to go home, but I don’t know which way to swim.” “Miss, please help me!” It sounded exactly like a kid making up a story. My tone turned stern. “Sweetheart, faking a 911 call is wrong. It stops us from helping people who are in real danger. Do you understand?” That night, a massive blackout had hit the Eastside District. Police units were stretched incredibly thin, and emergency calls were flooding the switchboard. In the last ten seconds of the call, the person on the other end changed. An adult took the phone, immediately lowering their voice in apology. “I am so, so sorry, officer! The kid was just messing around. I’ll make sure to teach her a lesson.” At the dispatch center, over 60% of our daily calls are accidental dials or pranks. After a brief reprimand, I hung up the phone and threw myself back into the overwhelming workload. But the next day, a body floated to the surface of the Eastside Reservoir. The victim was a seven-year-old girl. Her waterlogged face was swollen beyond recognition. On the strap of her little red overalls, a name was faintly embroidered. Darcy. 02 Ducky. Darcy. The little girl hadn’t been lying. It really was a desperate cry for help. The call connected at 11:43 PM. The coroner estimated the time of death around 1:00 AM. Shortly after I hung up that phone, she was brutally murdered. And I was the only person who had heard the killer’s voice. In the missing person flyers, the girl had big, bright eyes and cute braided pigtails. Now, lying on the cold autopsy table, her face was disfigured, her joints shattered into pieces. The horrific sight made even hardened veteran detectives tear up. “That absolute monster. They shattered her bones so she couldn’t swim, then tossed her in the water!” If I had made the right judgment call. If I had initiated a GPS ping in time. If… But death doesn’t care about “ifs.” Regret and guilt swallowed me whole. A million “ifs” shredded my conscience. I attended the little girl’s funeral. The moment she saw me, the mother—who had lost so much weight she looked like a skeleton—lunged at me, screaming with a shattered voice. “Why didn’t you send a squad car?! Why?! You heard her begging for help!” Every single word slammed into my heart like a sledgehammer. “You killed my daughter!” “Darcy had a congenital cognitive disability. She went to a special education school,” my captain comforted me later. “She couldn’t even go to the bathroom without a teacher reminding her. She couldn’t articulate sentences properly. Danielle, this is not your fault.” “It is,” I shook my head in agony. “Even though the killer disguised their voice, if you listen closely, their accent doesn’t match the child’s.” Darcy and her parents had a thick, distinct Southern drawl. But the killer spoke in perfectly neutral, standard American English. “If Darcy had sneaked a phone to call 911 and was caught, the killer rushing over to snatch the phone would have experienced an adrenaline spike. Their heart rate would have skyrocketed, and their speech would be rushed and panicked.” But this killer wasn’t. [Don’t worry, officer. I’ll make sure to teach her a lesson.] The voice was calm. Controlled. Exactly as if everything was going according to plan. While Darcy was on the phone, hidden in the static background noise, there were faint metallic clinks. After consulting audio experts, I confirmed it was the sound of heavy pliers being loaded and adjusted. Which meant, while the child was begging for her life on the phone, the killer was standing right next to her, preparing their weapon. “They enjoyed it. Giving the child a sliver of hope, just to personally crush it.” I looked up at the photo of the smiling girl on the wall, my eyes brimming with tears. “The killer deliberately forced Darcy to make that 911 call.” 03 The case went cold. The police poured massive resources into the investigation, but turned up almost nothing. There were security cameras outside her school, but because of the blackout and the torrential rain, the footage was completely useless. We never saw who took Darcy. Two months later, Darcy’s mother committed suicide. The rumor mill had been vicious. People started suspecting the parents had done it. Neighbors claimed they heard them arguing about the crushing medical debt from Darcy’s special needs treatments the day she went missing. Teachers at the school testified that although Darcy was cognitively impaired, she was fiercely resistant to strangers. She wouldn’t have gone with someone she didn’t know. When Darcy died, her life insurance paid out a massive settlement. “They bought all those policies this year, right when she got pregnant with her second child.” “Tsk. Cashing out their daughter’s life to pay for their brand-new baby boy.” Unable to bear the horrific gossip, Darcy’s mother jumped from a building. I didn’t understand. Why is it always the innocent, kind-hearted people who have to bleed to prove their innocence? Where was the real monster hiding? Every night I closed my eyes, that tiny, desperate voice echoed in my head. “Ducky wants to go home.” And I had answered so gently: “Sweetheart, is there a grown-up with you?” “Yes! Right here!” The girl had giggled through her stammer. That was the exact sentence that made me assume it was a prank. If this was a kidnapping for ransom or revenge, why not call the parents? Why would the killer risk getting caught just to force Darcy to call 911? That single phone call completely altered the trajectory of my life. I enrolled in the police academy, specializing in audio forensics and voice biometrics. After graduation, I requested to be stationed right back at the 911 dispatch center. Over the years, I insisted on taking the night shifts. I relentlessly studied new audio technologies and helped crack multiple major cases. State bureaus tried to recruit me multiple times, but I turned them all down. My captain tried to talk sense into me. “Danielle, you have to learn to let it go. You were a rookie on your first day. We can’t judge our past selves with the hindsight we have today.” I just smiled faintly. “But that monster will strike again.” I told myself that my only job was to wait. And I waited for eight long years. On the exact night of the eighth anniversary of Darcy’s death, the emergency hotline on my console lit up. Same date. Same time. My heart slammed violently against my ribs. A profound, terrifying premonition washed over me. It felt like all my grueling effort, all my sleepless nights, had been preparing me for this exact second. I grabbed my headset. “911, what is your emergency?” 04 On the other end, a trembling teenage girl’s voice answered— “Help me… I’ve been kidnapped.” 05 “I’ve been kidnapped, please help me…” The girl’s name was Chloe. She had been abducted walking home after a late-night study hall. She had been ambushed from behind, completely overpowered, and dragged into a van. When she woke up, her wrists and ankles were bound with heavy industrial wire. She managed to blindly dig her phone out of her pocket and immediately dialed 911. “Don’t panic. I am right here with you.” “Where did the person who took you go? Did you see their face?” My voice was gentle but steady, carrying an authoritative calm. Chloe’s hyperventilating breath instinctively slowed to match my rhythm, and her memory began to sharpen. “I couldn’t see. He grabbed me from behind. He had a mask and a hat on. He… he was really strong. He just threw me over his shoulder and tossed me into a van.” The girl’s voice cracked with tears. “When are you getting here? I’m so scared… Can’t you just track my phone’s GPS?” “The kidnapper installed an anti-tracking blocker on your phone. It takes time for our tech team to crack it.” I softened my tone. “Chloe, can you see any landmarks nearby? Describe everything around you. The smell, the colors, the temperature, the sounds—anything helps.” Chloe knew that every second, every detail, was a matter of life and death. Enduring the excruciating pain of the steel wire cutting into her flesh, she dragged herself toward a small, grimy window. Her vision was blurry. The trees outside thrashed in the heavy rain. She strained her eyes. “It smells like mold in here. The air is really damp, and it’s raining outside… but I can’t see the color of the walls…” Suddenly, a streak of light flashed in the distant, dark hills. Her breathing hitched. “A train just went by! But it wasn’t a long one—it felt like a freight train!” “You’re doing incredible, Chloe.” My fingers flew across the keyboard, cross-referencing data. “You went missing from Lincoln High on Elm Street. You were taken in a van. Based on standard driving speeds and tonight’s traffic and weather, you’re still within city limits. It’s currently raining in four districts. “Based on the acoustics echoing around your voice, you’re in a room with fully tiled walls. Those are typically used in meatpacking or food processing plants. “Combined with the freight train tracks, I have pinpointed your location to one of the abandoned factories in the Kingspoint Industrial Park. “The fastest squad car will be there in 17 minutes. “Until then, I am going to stay on the line with you. Okay?” It might have just been comfort, but Chloe felt a genuine surge of hope. She wasn’t fighting alone in the dark anymore. The silence around her was deafening. Her teeth chattered. “But… where did the kidnapper go?” “If he was smart enough to install a tracking blocker, why would he leave my phone in my pocket to let me call 911?” The line went silent for a fraction of a second. Me: “From now on, I need you to only answer my questions with a ‘yes’ or ‘no’. You cannot react visibly to anything I say. Can you do that?” “…Yes.” I spoke clearly, emphasizing every single word. “The killer hasn’t gone anywhere.” “He is currently inside that exact same room with you.” 06 How is that possible? Chloe’s entire body shook like a leaf in a hurricane. Her heart felt like it was going to explode out of her chest. There was nowhere to hide in this room… No, wait. There was. She held her breath, every hair on her body standing on end, desperately fighting the urge to turn around. Right behind her, leaning against the wall, was a large, rotting metal cabinet. Not too big. Not too small. Just big enough to fit a person inside. 07 The killer had never left the room. I strained my ears, hyper-focusing on every single frequency beneath the static on the call. Hidden in the white noise, I caught the distinct, metallic clink of heavy tools scraping together. The monster who murdered Darcy was standing right there. I told Chloe: “He deliberately left your phone so he could play a sick game with you. Right now, you need to pretend you don’t know he’s there. Find a way to slip out of the wire, walk out the door, and look for a way out.” “Delay him as long as physically possible. Keep yourself alive until my officers breach that building.” “Chloe, I will stay with you until you are safe. Trust me.” I wasn’t the terrified, helpless rookie from eight years ago. Tonight, I was putting everything on the line to bring this girl home. Chloe pushed every ounce of her strength into her ankles, trying to slide them out of the wire loops. Every inch she pulled scraped off a layer of skin. Gasping through the agonizing pain, she bit down hard on her lip and violently yanked her bloody feet free. Limping heavily, she twisted the doorknob. Outside was a pitch-black corridor. It looked endless, like a pathway straight into hell. Chloe’s nerves were pulled to the absolute snapping point. Her heart was in her throat. Just as she stood in the hallway clutching her phone, unsure of where to go, the metal cabinet inside the room behind her let out a faint creak. Thud. Someone stepped out. Through the earpiece, I dropped a single, heavy command: “Run!” 08 She ran. Pushing her legs harder than she ever had in her entire life. It felt like her lungs were going to rupture. Her body went completely numb, operating purely on survival instinct as she blindly stumbled through the dark corridors. The attacker followed her leisurely, like a hunter enjoying a casual stroll behind wounded prey. He paused to pick up a blood-stained sneaker she had lost in the scramble. He let out a dark, amused chuckle. “Fast little thing, aren’t you?” Chloe hid behind the door of a utility closet, pressing her back flat against the concrete wall. Her chest heaved violently. She clamped both hands over her mouth, waiting until the heavy footsteps slowly faded down the hall before finally daring to inhale. “He thinks I went downstairs. What do I do now?” Before she could turn the knob to leave, I instructed her: “You need to create a diversion. Is your other shoe still on? Take it off. Throw it down the stairs or at the end of the hallway to make him think you went in that direction.” Chloe hurled her shoe as far as she could and immediately sprinted back in the opposite direction. Exhausting every last drop of her adrenaline, tripping and falling over debris, she kept crawling forward. I praised her over the radio. In the dark, Chloe bit her lip and whispered softly, “My mom used to be a 911 dispatcher too… She taught me some of these tricks… If I don’t make it out. Officer, can you tell her… I really tried my best?” Wait, her mother was a dispatcher? A massive, terrifying wave of confusion crashed through my brain. But before I could ask for details… The phone signal cut out.

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Determined to study hard for my grad school entrance exams, I posted: [I’m dying. Quitting the game. Don’t look for me.] A few days later, I heard that a famous actor went crazy, mistaking a netizen for the love of his life. Later, by some twist of fate, I ended up in the entertainment industry. To steal resources, a two-faced actress intentionally set me up on a live reality show to disrespect the actor’s “dead” love. But it seems that “dead” love is… me? I’m still alive. What do I do now… 01 It was exam prep season again, and once more, I was screaming in frustration at my own laziness. My best friend, Chloe, rolled her eyes at me. “Audrey, if you don’t quit that game, you can forget about grad school. Keep dreaming.” I threw my phone down and started sulking. “What, still waiting for your gaming buddy?” Chloe patted my back. I stayed silent, just being stubborn. Even though my gaming buddy hadn’t been online for days, I wasn’t going to admit it. “Let it go. You’re just a random netizen to him. Focusing on your exams is what’s important,” she said. Ouch… This girl’s ability to stab me right in the heart is as strong as ever. Stabbing me right where it hurts the most. But I’m known for being stubborn to the bitter end. So I said, “It’s not because of him. I’m just addicted to the game.” “Fine, I’ll help you quit,” she said with an eye roll. I laughed. “Alright, if you can make it so I never log into that game again, I’ll admit you’re the boss.” “You said it, Audrey,” she said, grabbing my phone and frantically tapping away. A moment later, she tossed the phone back to me. “Done. I guarantee you’ll never dare log into this account again.” I had a bad feeling about this. I looked at the screen. My gaming profile had a new status update: AudreyA: [I’m dying. Quitting the game. Don’t look for me.] Then, all my cosmetic items—except for one limited-edition skin and the ones bound to my gaming buddy that couldn’t be gifted—were given away (mostly to Chloe herself, of course). My virtual pet, the cute little thing I always called my “daughter,” was transferred to my gaming buddy. She even left a message: [Take good care of our daughter.] Watching the DMs popping up one after another, my vision went dark, and I immediately logged off. She was right. I’d never dare log into this account again. Just pretend I’m dead. Socially dead. Later, I heard a rumor that a rising star, an actor who was quickly becoming an A-lister, suddenly went crazy. He completely abandoned his “single and available” image, risking his entire career, to search the world for the love of his life. And that love was a netizen he had never even met. Of course, I only heard passing mentions of this and didn’t know the details. At that time, I had already moved back to my hometown. A family member had fallen seriously ill. I was overwhelmed and had no time for anything else. Eventually, my family member recovered. I didn’t end up taking the grad school exams. Instead, through a bizarre twist of fate, I entered the entertainment industry, becoming an absolute nobody. Right now, I’m on my way to a live reality show. The famous actor, Liam Hayes, will also be there. A couple of days ago, a talented fan editor created a romantic montage of Liam and me, and a lot of netizens thought it was amazing. Liam’s team even reached out to my agency to discuss a potential collaboration. This reality show is basically a warm-up and a test run. Liam Hayes is that same rising star who went “crazy” before. He successfully became an A-lister. 02 “Audrey, remember, Liam is easy to talk to, but he has one absolute taboo: his dead first love.” In the car, my manager, Sarah, twisted my ear and lectured me. Liam’s “first love” stayed with him through his darkest times before he became famous. Back then, Liam had offended someone and was suppressed at every turn. He had no acting jobs; it was the darkest period of his life. But just when he finally achieved success, she died. Over the past year or so, countless women have tried to capitalize on his “first love” story, and they all met terrible ends. “This is your chance to make it big. Don’t screw it up,” Sarah said, poking my forehead. I nodded like a woodpecker and said, “Mission understood!” “Oh, and that two-faced Mia is also going to be there. Be careful,” Sarah added as I was getting out of the car. That woman, Mia, has been targeting me ever since I entered the industry. She’s stolen countless opportunities from me, pretended to be my best friend only to “accidentally” say things that got me tons of hate, and even paid for smear campaigns against me. She’s like gum stuck to the bottom of a shoe—annoying and impossible to get rid of. Thinking about her, I made a gagging face and got out of the car. … What I didn’t know was that a few hours ago… Mia was clinging to someone’s arm, saying, “David, you promised me. You have to make this happen.” “David” kissed her and said, “Don’t worry, it’s a done deal. Tonight, there will be an after-dinner game segment. I’ve arranged for Liam to draw the prompt to play ‘Elysium,’ the game he used to play with his dead first love.” “I’ve checked, and Audrey said she’s never played Elysium. Since her name is Audrey, I’ll have someone subtly suggest she use the username ‘Audrey.’ We’ll manipulate her into doing something that looks like she’s copying his first love’s old username, ‘AudreyA.’ I guarantee Liam will have her blacklisted from the industry by tomorrow.” “Also, you’ll play Elysium too. Remember, your persona in Elysium is the ‘skilled gamer.’ You need to criticize Audrey at the right moment. That way, both Liam and his fans will like you, and you can step over Audrey to get the collaboration opportunity.” Mia beamed with joy and sweetly said, “David~ You’re the best~” And then… … Of course, I knew none of this. Right now, I had just stepped out of the car, and the first person I saw was Liam. He is incredibly handsome. Perhaps because I knew about his tragic love story, he seemed to carry a unique, melancholic beauty. He stood there, casually waving hello. His dark eyes seemed filled with an impenetrable mist. For some reason, I suddenly felt a sense of familiarity. I shook my head. Am I crazy? I’ve only been in the industry for six months, and this is the first time I’ve met him. What familiarity? Audrey, you can’t just look at a handsome guy and think you knew him in a past life. With that thought, I adjusted my attitude and walked up to him with a bright smile. I said, “Hello, Liam. I’m Audrey Miller. You can just call me Audrey.” For some reason, he seemed to think of something and paused for a moment. I looked at him curiously. After about a second, he slightly lowered his eyes, his gaze focusing on me. He nodded, his voice clean and clear: “Hello.” 03 His voice also felt very familiar, but I figured I must have heard it on TV before. Totally normal. Audrey, keep it together. Just as I was thinking this, Mia’s voice called out from behind, “Liam, Audrey, wait for me!” I immediately rolled my eyes. What a buzzkill. Whatever, focus on the mission first. Today’s main objective: successfully cling to Liam’s coattails! So, during the live reality show, I worked incredibly hard. When Liam needed water, I was the first to pour it— “Water for you, Liam. If you need anything, just call for Audrey. I’m at your beck and call, guaranteed~” When it was time for tasks, I took the lead, rushing forward to grab all the chores— “I got this, Liam. My specialty is being physically fit. I’ve hardly ever been sick since I was a kid!” When we failed a mini-game and had to face a penalty, I stepped right up— “Don’t panic, I’m Liam’s designated stunt double. I’ll take the penalty. Our goal is: protect Liam from any harm!” … Sucking up, that’s what I do! Kissing ass, that’s my game! Kiss enough ass, and eventually, you’ll have it all! Slurp~ Let’s go, let’s go! Mia was also trying hard, but she cared too much about her image to compete with me. So, she resorted to passive-aggressive remarks from the sidelines: “Audrey, aren’t you afraid Liam’s fans will hate you for clinging to him like this?” I replied nonchalantly, “It’s fine, right? I’m not trying to push a romantic angle.” She’s the one trying to force a romantic narrative with Liam. When her first plan failed, she tried another: “But the way you’re acting, it looks like you’re just kissing his ass…” I chuckled: “No need to doubt it, I am kissing his ass. I want to be Liam’s right-hand man!” Saying this, I even looked directly at the camera: “Main quest: cling to Liam’s coattails, strive to be his most loyal sidekick, and pledge unwavering loyalty to Liam!” I finished with a fist pump. Then, ignoring Mia’s almost broken expression, I walked away with swagger. Netizens clipped this segment together with all my other kiss-ass moments from the day, and paired it with Mia’s almost broken expression. It instantly skyrocketed to the top of the trending list. [Hahaha, Mia’s expression, I’m dying of laughter.] [I don’t care, I want to be Liam’s most loyal sidekick too!] [Pledge unwavering loyalty to Liam!] … [Don’t laugh too soon. Audrey isn’t innocent. I actually think Mia is right, Audrey is clinging to Liam. There have been other female celebrities who played the ‘bro/sidekick’ card before, and they all ended up trying to leech off Liam’s fame later. Disgusting.] [+1 to the comment above.] [+My bank account number.] … My phone had been confiscated, so I didn’t know about the heated debates online. I only knew that this busy day was finally coming to an end. While shoveling food into my mouth, I sneaked glances at Liam. When his water glass was empty, I refilled it. Whatever he needed, I provided. Seeing him smile from time to time, I figured he must be pretty satisfied. Of course he is. Even I’m impressed by my level of service. Audrey, you’re the best! But when I suddenly looked up, I caught Mia’s sinister glare. It startled me so much I almost choked. Too scary. Just eat, ignore her. After dinner came the final activity before bed: drawing lots for a mini-game. I glanced at the crumpled pieces of paper. Singing, hide-and-seek, things like that were all there. I didn’t see all of them before a staff member put them into a box. “Liam, why don’t you draw?” the staff member said. “Whatever you pick, everyone will definitely be happy with.” Liam nodded modestly, reached in, and pulled out a piece of paper. The moment he opened it, he froze, his lips pressed tightly together. Little Qin, standing next to him, leaned over while talking: “What did you get? Liam, your expression is haha…” But before he could finish his “haha,” his expression changed drastically. He went completely silent. His eyes wide as saucers. Everyone was very curious, and so was I, but I didn’t dare look. Finally, Little Qin said, “Why don’t you draw another one?” But Liam said, “No need, this one is fine.” Then he flattened the piece of paper on the table. I took a look— “Elysium Map Race.” 04 The corners of my mouth twitched slightly. Dead memories suddenly attacked me. Oh no, this feels like heartburn. I was reminded of what my best friend did over a year ago. From that day until now, I haven’t played Elysium once. For some reason, besides my awkwardness, no one else spoke either. The atmosphere was incredibly weird. And everyone kept stealing glances at Liam. I was the least famous person there, so I didn’t dare make a sound. Right then, Mia suddenly spoke up: “Audrey, you’ve never played Elysium, right? Whoever teams up with you this time is going to suffer, haha.” She paused slightly, then looked at Liam and said, “Liam, I’m super good at Elysium. Let’s team up.” I instantly went on high alert. This two-faced Mia was waiting for this! She wants to show off her gaming skills to win Liam over and steal my opportunities again? Impossible! Absolutely impossible! I’ve been kissing up to Liam all day; I refuse to let someone else steal the fruit of my labor! Thinking this, I patted my chest and looked at Liam: “No, I’m super good. Liam, let’s team up!” I am a recognized pro at Elysium. Back in the day, I carried my gaming buddy across the map, flying through the skies and exploring every corner. Before Liam could say anything, Mia’s mocking voice came again— “Audrey, if you don’t know how to play, just admit it. You can’t lie just to team up with Liam. It wouldn’t be good if you dragged him down.” What I didn’t know was that online, someone had dug up an interview video of me from a month ago. In that video, the host asked me— “Audrey, have you played the popular game Elysium recently?” And the me on screen shook my head frantically: “No, absolutely not. I don’t know how to play that game at all.” The live chat had already exploded— [A month ago she said she’s never played, doesn’t know how, absolutely not. Now she dares to say she’s a pro? Is this a joke!] [Yeah, she probably hasn’t even leveled up much in a month. So funny. I used to think she was genuine, but now it seems she’s no different from the other women.] [Disgusting. Audrey, stay away from our Liam! Audrey get out of the entertainment industry!] … While the internet was blowing up, back at the reality show set. I’m someone who can’t stand a challenge, especially when Mia is being specifically malicious. Combining old grudges with new resentment, I had to win. “The game hasn’t even started, why are you already talking trash?” I said, instantly changing my expression and looking at Liam with a flattering smile. “Liam, pick me, pick me! Your loyal sidekick is your most reliable teammate! If you like this game, we can play it together all the time! I’m super good!” I even impressed myself with how fast I could change my tune. After all, with my skills, I could definitely carry Liam and make the game a breeze for him. Liam looked at my eager expression and, for some reason, seemed a bit stunned. He looked at me, but his dark eyes lacked focus. It was as if he was looking at something through me. Is there a problem? I used to act like this in the game when begging high-level players to carry me. Back then, I had another “sidekick” with me, and the high-level players were always happy to carry us. “Audrey, look, Liam hasn’t even said anything. He…” “Okay.” Before Mia could finish her mocking sentence, Liam agreed. Everyone around us was stunned. The internet exploded even more, because for the past year or so, Liam hadn’t teamed up with any female players. On the islands of Elysium, people often saw Liam taking a cute, pink virtual pet to travel across mountains, rivers, and oceans. Rumor had it that the virtual pet was the “daughter” previously raised by “AudreyA.” More and more people were hating on me online, but I didn’t know. I was happily taking a phone from a staff member. Create a new account or log into my old one? Definitely the old one. A new account wouldn’t have any levels; how could I beat anyone? If I want to carry the boss, I need to bring my absolute peak skills! Clenching fists.jpg Besides, that happened a year and a half ago. Surely no one remembers it anymore… Surely… Thinking this, I expertly entered my ID and password. After logging in, the familiar colorful interface washed over me. Long time no see.

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I accidentally stumbled upon my husband’s search history on his phone. The top query read: “How to make your wife die accidentally during childbirth?” I touched my seven-month pregnant belly, a cold sweat breaking out across my back. 01 It was evening, and my husband was taking a shower. I was in the living room, putting together my hospital bag. My phone was dead, so I instinctively picked up his to look up some labor preparation tips. But I accidentally swiped into his search history. Two queries instantly grabbed my attention: “How to make a pregnant woman die accidentally during childbirth?” “Inheritance order after the accidental death of a spouse?” I froze on the spot, thinking my eyes were playing tricks on me. I checked again and again, but it was real. He had actually searched for this. But why? Why would he search for something like this? I rubbed my seven-month pregnant belly, a chilling wave creeping up my spine. “Honey, I forgot my towel! It’s in the cabinet, can you grab it for me?” my husband yelled from the bathroom. I hesitated for a second, then quickly deleted those two search queries before setting his phone down. I got up and fetched his towel. The moment he stepped out of the bathroom, he immediately picked up his phone and checked it. I saw a visible wave of relief wash over his face. He rubbed his hair with the towel and asked, “Honey, are you washing your hair tonight? I can help you.” “N-no… no thanks,” I cleared my throat. “I feel a little chilled. I think I’m just going to go to bed.” With that, I got up and walked toward the bedroom. Hearing that I felt chilled, he immediately followed me, asking a dozen concerned questions. He reminded me that I was in my third trimester and needed to be extra careful with my health. Looking at this incredibly attentive, thoughtful man in front of me, I couldn’t possibly connect him to the horrifying search history on his phone… 02 My name is Chloe, and I’ve been married to Mark for almost two years. It’s his second marriage; he has a six-year-old son from his previous marriage who lives with his ex-wife. This is my first marriage, and I’m currently seven months pregnant. Perhaps because it was his second marriage, he treated me exceptionally well. He never let me do any chores; he even hand-washed my underwear. Since I got pregnant, he’s taken care of me meticulously. Now that I’m in my third trimester, my whole body is swollen, and I can’t even bend over. Every day, he brings me a basin of warm water to wash my face and feet. All our friends and relatives envy me for finding such a good husband. He even insisted on scheduling a C-section for my delivery because he was terrified of me being in pain, and he already booked a luxury postpartum care center for me… I couldn’t understand it. Why would a universally praised “perfect husband” secretly search for something so sinister? I couldn’t sleep at all that night. Once I was absolutely certain he was in a deep sleep, I slipped his phone out from under his pillow. I opened the browser again, only to find that his entire search history had been wiped clean, and the browser was now set to incognito mode. When I used his phone earlier, it definitely wasn’t in incognito mode. He must have changed the settings right after his shower. I combed through all his social media apps, transaction histories, emails, photo albums, and even his food delivery apps. I found absolutely nothing suspicious. It was too clean. It was as clean as a brand-new phone. The cleaner it was, the more paranoid I became. As I put his phone down, I suddenly remembered an article I read a few days ago about how many modern smartphones have a “Dual Space” or hidden operating system feature. I quickly grabbed my own phone and searched for his specific phone model. Following the online tutorial, I typed in the shortcut, and sure enough, a completely different operating system login screen appeared. But it required a password. 03 Mark and I had always shared the same phone passcode. He always said husband and wife shouldn’t have secrets. And I had always believed him. But right now, staring at the hidden system on his phone, I felt completely helpless. I didn’t know the password. I tried his birthday, my birthday, our anniversary… all incorrect. One more wrong attempt and it would lock me out for half an hour. Suddenly, a string of numbers flashed through my mind. I typed them in, and to my shock, it worked. With a soft ding, the phone unlocked. And I saw a completely different Mark. This system looked like the one he actually used every day. It was filled with traces of his real life: photos, texts, social media chats… I saw that he was still in constant contact with his ex-wife, frequently transferring money to her. His ex-wife kept reminding him to make absolutely sure I had a C-section, because once I was on the operating table, they could easily manipulate the situation… I saw his chat logs with an online lawyer, asking to confirm that if a wife dies, the husband is the primary inheritor of her estate… I saw him sending pictures of the massive life insurance policy he bought for me a year ago, calculating exactly how much payout he would get when I died… In an instant, everything made sense. A year ago, Mark suddenly bought two massive life insurance policies—one for him, one for me, naming each other as the sole beneficiaries. He said at the time, “Honey, I’m always on the road for sales, constantly taking flights and trains. I need to make sure you’re protected.” I remember crying and stopping him, telling him not to say such stupid things, that we would be together forever, for a long, long time. Tears blurred my vision. With trembling hands, I scrolled further down. Finally, his ex-wife asked him: [What if the baby in her stomach survives the birth? Are you going to get soft-hearted?] He swore up and down that absolutely wouldn’t happen, claiming that his only child in this lifetime would be Leo. Leo. His six-year-old son with his ex-wife. The password I just used to unlock this hidden system was Leo’s birthday. They were the real family of three. And I? I was just their stepping stone to a wealthy life in the city. I had a house, a car, and premium urban residency status… “Honey, what are you looking at?” Just as I was completely absorbed in the messages, the person next to me shifted. Mark was awake. 04 He propped himself up on his elbow, instinctively leaning over to see my screen. In that split second, a million horrifying scenarios flashed through my mind. If he realized I had discovered his secret, would he snap and try to kill me right here, right now? I was heavily pregnant; I stood absolutely zero chance against him in a physical fight. Over the two years of our marriage, he had meticulously won the absolute trust of all my friends and family, building an impenetrable “perfect husband” persona. If I died tonight, no one would even suspect him. “Honey, my stomach is really acting up,” I said, putting one hand on my belly while my other hand quickly held down the power button on his phone to shut it off. “Your phone died. Can you help me find mine?” As long as his phone was off, he wouldn’t know I had accessed the hidden system. He pulled my phone out from under my pillow. “Why is your stomach hurting? You’re only seven months along. Did you eat something bad?” “I need to go to the bathroom,” I said, snatching my phone from him and waddling as fast as I could to the master bathroom. I quickly locked the door. Trembling, I sent a text to my younger brother: “Come pick me up right now. Don’t ask questions. Don’t call me. Just come. NOW.” Just as I hit send, a knock sounded on the bathroom door. “Honey, are you okay? Does it still hurt?” I wiped the cold sweat from my forehead and tried to sound as normal as possible. “Honey, I suddenly have a huge craving for those spring rolls from that 24-hour diner outside the neighborhood. Could you go buy some for me?” It was a diner we used to sneak out to for late-night snacks all the time. He hesitated for a second, but agreed. I listened to him rustling around, putting on his clothes, and then heard the distinct sound of the front door closing. I didn’t leave the bathroom immediately. I waited another minute to make sure he was gone, then stood on my tiptoes to peek out the frosted bathroom window. I saw him wearing a baseball cap, jogging toward the neighborhood entrance. I let out a massive breath of relief, unlocked the door, and hurried out. I called my brother while riding the elevator down. But the moment I stepped out of the elevator into the lobby, a tall shadow blocked my path. “Honey, where are you going?” It was Mark. He hadn’t left at all. He had been waiting for me in the lobby the whole time. 05 It was dead silent. Even the streetlights outside had flickered off. I took a deep breath and carefully studied his expression. I didn’t see any obvious hostility or suspicion. I forced myself to smile, walking up and looping my arm through his, just like I normally would. “Honey, I was so hungry, and you were taking forever, so I just came down to find you.” He looked at me with a helpless, doting smile. “You little glutton. Who told you to skip dinner? I forgot my wallet upstairs, I was just about to go back up and get it.” “I brought my phone, I can pay. Let’s go,” I said, steering us toward the neighborhood gate. The diner owner greeted us warmly, just like usual. While we were waiting for the spring rolls, my brother, Tyler, pulled up in his truck. I rushed over to him before Mark could react. “Is Dad okay? Is his heart acting up again? I’ll come home with you right now.” Tyler looked at me, completely confused. Mark had already walked over. “What’s wrong? What happened to your dad?” I answered quickly, “It’s nothing serious, just his old chronic issue acting up again. Honey, I’m gonna go stay at my parents’ house with my brother tonight. You go home and get some sleep, you have work tomorrow.” Saying that, I quickly climbed into the passenger seat of Tyler’s truck. “Honey, it’s so late, let me come with you,” Mark said, reaching for the door handle. I quickly stopped him. “It’s fine! It’s just Dad’s usual flair-up, I just need to check on him. Tyler’s driving, what are you worried about?” Mark thought for a second, then nodded. “Alright. I’ll come pick you up after work tomorrow.” As the truck pulled away, I watched Mark’s figure shrink in the rearview mirror. Only then did I finally let myself breathe. 06 On the drive, Tyler demanded to know what the hell was going on. Calling him in the middle of the night, telling him not to speak… I hesitated, but finally told him everything I had found in Mark’s hidden phone system. Hearing it all, Tyler instinctively slammed on the brakes, pulling over to the side of the road. “Chloe, are you sure you’re not mistaken? Mark treats you like a queen. How could he possibly do something like this? Is there a misunderstanding?” See? Even my own brother didn’t believe it. Mark’s “perfect husband” facade was flawless. If I died, absolutely no one would suspect him. “Do you think I’d joke about my own life?” I asked him. Tyler looked at my face, finally realizing the gravity of the situation. He gripped the steering wheel tight. “I’m going to go find that bastard right now and beat him half to death.” I quickly stopped him. “Tyler, don’t be stupid! We don’t have any hard evidence right now. The chat logs are in his phone, he can delete them the second he suspects anything.” “Then what do we do? We go to the cops.” “It’s useless. Without proof, they won’t believe a pregnant woman claiming her husband is plotting to kill her. Tyler, take me home first. We need to plan this out carefully, and we can’t tell Mom and Dad yet.” Tyler agreed and drove me to my parents’ house. Early the next morning, he sent me a link. It was a fake online legal consultation website he had a programmer friend build overnight. “Doesn’t Mark love consulting lawyers online? Find a way to get him to visit this site. As long as he uses it, I can track his keystrokes and secure the evidence.” I was impressed by my brother’s speed. Using my marketing background, I ran a targeted ad for the website, then anonymously emailed the link to Mark’s private inbox. Then, I had Tyler take me to my current hospital. I requested copies of all my prenatal records and immediately booked my delivery at a different, private hospital across town. Just as I finished the paperwork, I saw Mark’s ex-wife, Sarah, walking into the hospital. She was holding Leo’s hand as the kid skipped along happily. Behind them was a middle-aged man I didn’t recognize. 07 Mark’s ex-wife, Sarah, was actually a moderately famous mommy vlogger. She gained a massive following by documenting her daily life raising her son. Her son supposedly suffered from congenital heart disease, and she built her entire brand around the persona of a “strong, independent single mother holding up the sky for her sick child.” If I hadn’t seen those monstrous chat logs with my own eyes last night, I probably would have been moved by her brave, resilient mother persona too. Thinking of this, I instinctively pulled out my phone and recorded a video of the three of them walking into the pediatrics wing together. I followed them discreetly. They left shortly after getting Leo a routine check-up. Once they were gone, Tyler and I slipped a nurse a hundred bucks to get a copy of Leo’s medical report. The report showed he was perfectly healthy. Leo didn’t have any heart condition whatsoever. I tucked the report into my bag, planning to post it anonymously online later. When I got back to my parents’ house, Mark was already there. He looked like he had just gotten off work, still wearing his company polo, carrying two expensive gift boxes. He looked like the picture of a polite, respectful son-in-law. That was exactly how he had fooled me. That polished, gentlemanly facade. I had demanded no ring, no house, and no car, marrying this divorced man purely out of love. When he walked in, he greeted my dad warmly, then pulled a bag of spring rolls from his pocket. “Honey, I know you were craving these last night, so I brought you some fresh ones.” Then, he smoothly rolled up his sleeves and went into the kitchen to help my mom cook. Tyler was glaring at him with such intense hatred I had to drag him into a bedroom. I pulled two bottles of expensive liquor from my dad’s cabinet. “Whether we get the evidence today depends entirely on you.” Tyler immediately understood the assignment. During dinner, Tyler relentlessly poured drinks for Mark. Tyler works in corporate sales; his alcohol tolerance is legendary. He once drank an entire table of clients under the table. Under Tyler’s relentless assault, Mark quickly surrendered, passing out face-down on the dining table. I grabbed his phone, unlocked the hidden system, and quickly AirDropped all the evidence files to my laptop. Just as I was about to put the phone back, Tyler snatched it from me. “Just getting his chat logs isn’t enough. Let me leave him a little present.” He typed furiously on Mark’s phone, handed it back to me, and then installed an app on my phone. When I opened the app, I could see a live mirror of Mark’s phone screen. He had installed spyware. 08 “A buddy of mine developed it. Just leave him a five-star review on the app store when this is over,” Tyler explained. While we were doing all this, my parents were in the living room, completely unaware of what we were up to, so they didn’t ask any questions. With everything secured, I compiled the medical report I got today, along with a covert audio recording of a pediatric cardiologist confirming the kid was healthy, into a video. I posted it anonymously to a gossip forum. Sarah was a well-known influencer. A video exposing her fake “sick child” grift instantly went viral. People started digging through her old videos, pointing out massive inconsistencies. The backlash was brutal. People accused her of being a sociopathic scammer, cursing her own child just for engagement and donations… Customers who bought the products she promoted started demanding refunds, threatening to sue her for fraud… In a matter of hours, her comment section became an absolute warzone. I sat in my old bedroom, scrolling through the comments and waiting. Sure enough, in the middle of the night, Mark’s phone lit up in the guest room. It was Sarah. She was crying hysterically, begging him to look at the trending topics and asking what she should do. Mark panicked. He told her not to worry and that he was coming over immediately. The second Mark left my parents’ house, I woke Tyler up, wanting him to drive me to follow Mark. “Chloe, you’re heavily pregnant. It’s too dangerous. I’ll go alone. You stay here and monitor his phone screen.” With that, Tyler grabbed his keys and rushed out the door. I went back to my room, my eyes glued to the phone screen. Aside from Mark opening his chat app to scroll through his old messages with me, he didn’t do anything suspicious. As dawn approached, I still hadn’t heard from Tyler. I was starting to get worried and was just about to call him when I heard a heavy thud from the living room. It sounded like something large had collapsed onto the floor. I threw my door open and gasped. My dad was lying flat on his back on the hardwood floor. His eyes were wide open, staring blankly at the ceiling, his limbs twitching sporadically. “Dad! Dad, what’s wrong?!” I screamed, rushing over to him. My dad’s eyes darted toward the phone lying next to his hand. His trembling finger pointed at the screen. It was playing Sarah’s newest video. She looked pitiful, tears streaming down her face, holding up a stack of (forged) medical documents. She claimed she never lied, that Leo really did have a severe heart condition when he was younger, and that it had only recently been cured through surgery. She then claimed she knew exactly who was behind the “vicious smear campaign.” And then, she displayed a photo of Mark and me. She stated that I was the homewrecker who destroyed her family, stole her husband, and now, jealous of her success online, was trying to ruin her life. She even leaked heavily edited chat logs between Mark and me from back when she and Mark were still legally married… Finally. She sobbed into the camera: [Chloe, you’re younger than me, you’re prettier than me. When you stole my husband and destroyed my family, I knew I couldn’t compete. I wanted to die. Leo was the only reason I kept living. I only have him left. I don’t have an education, I don’t know how to speak eloquently, I just make silly little videos to earn enough to feed my son. Why won’t you let us go? Chloe, I’m begging you, for the love of God, please spare us. I’ll get on my knees for you, I’ll beg you…] She literally got on her knees and bowed to the camera, crying hysterically, painting me as a demonic, sociopathic villain… The internet mob instantly turned on me. They cursed me for being a shameless homewrecker, wishing death on me and my unborn child… My dad had seen the video, suffered a massive stroke from the shock, and collapsed. “Dad, it’s a lie, it’s not what you think. Please don’t panic, I’m calling an ambulance right now.” I cried, grabbing my phone to dial 911. Just then, the front door clicked open. I thought it was Tyler coming back. I looked up, asking for help, but froze. Standing in the doorway was Mark. His face was darker than I had ever seen it. His pitch-black eyes churned with a terrifying, murderous rage. “You posted the video exposing Leo, didn’t you?” he asked, stepping inside and locking the front door behind him. 09 “I don’t know what you’re talking about! My dad just had a stroke because of the video your ex-wife posted! I have to get him to the hospital!” I yelled, trying to support my dad’s head while dialing 911. But Mark violently snatched the phone from my hand. “I asked you a question, Chloe. I want an explanation. Why are you framing Sarah?” He towered over me, looking down with cold, dead eyes. His gentle, caring husband persona was completely gone, replaced by the face of a violent stranger. I could clearly see the murderous intent in his eyes… Thinking about the chat logs where they plotted my death, I scrambled backward in sheer terror. “M-Mark…” “What’s going on? Chloe, what happened?” My mom heard the commotion and hurried out of the master bedroom, pulling a cardigan over her shoulders. When she saw my dad twitching on the floor, her legs gave out. “Oh my god! Honey! What happened to you?!” Seeing my mom, the demonic look on Mark’s face instantly vanished, replaced by his usual calm demeanor. He cleared his throat. “It looks like a stroke. Let’s get him to the hospital.” He stepped forward, reaching out to help lift my dad, but I subtly blocked his hands. “N-no need. I already called an ambulance.” The paramedics arrived quickly, and my dad was rushed to the ER. Thank God we got him there in time. After emergency treatment, he was stabilized, but he remained paralyzed on his right side and needed to stay in the ICU for observation. Mark stayed by my side the entire time. He ran around paying the hospital fees, handling the paperwork, and comforting my weeping mother. Watching him, I almost convinced myself that the terrifying monster I saw in the apartment was just a hallucination. But only almost. I knew exactly how terrifying this man truly was. Tyler rushed into the hospital shortly after. When he saw Mark, he froze for a second. “How’s Dad? He was perfectly fine yesterday, how did he suddenly have a stroke?” he asked me. “He’s stabilized, but the doctor said the recovery will be brutal. He might be in a wheelchair for the rest of his life,” I sobbed, unable to hold back the tears. Tyler swayed on his feet. He shot a dark glare at Mark, then asked me, “What caused it?” I didn’t hold back. I told him everything about Sarah’s retaliation video. The moment Tyler heard the full story, he spun around and delivered a brutal right hook directly to Mark’s jaw. “You son of a bitch! Is this how you treat my sister?! Are you and your psycho ex-wife ever going to stop?!” Mark stumbled backward from the force of the punch. “Tyler, what gives you the right to hit me?! You framed Leo first! Sarah was just giving you a taste of your own medicine!” “Whether your ‘son’ is sick or not, or whether your ex-wife is a scamming fraud, YOU fucking know the truth better than anyone! You absolute piece of garbage! My sister was blind to ever marry you!” Tyler roared, launching a vicious kick at Mark’s ribs. Mark hit the floor hard. He scrambled up, raising his fists to fight back, but I quickly grabbed Tyler’s arm. “Stop it. Go home, Mark. Tyler is furious right now, don’t push him.” Tyler shoved Mark toward the elevator. “Get the hell out of here before I kill you.” Mark cursed under his breath, wiped the blood from his lip, and stormed off. Once he was completely gone, Tyler pulled a thick stack of printed documents from his jacket. “This is what I found today.” He explained that after he left the house at dawn, he tailed Mark all the way to Sarah’s luxury apartment complex. But because he didn’t have a resident pass, security wouldn’t let him in. While he was pacing outside taking photos, trying to figure out how to sneak in, he spotted a middle-aged man pacing near the gate too. It was the same man we had seen with Sarah at the hospital. The man was clearly trying to see Sarah, but he was also being blocked by security. Tyler used his connections to run a background check on the guy. The man’s last name was Miller. He was a wealthy real estate contractor. Turns out, he had been sleeping with Sarah long before she ever married Mark. Even after Sarah married Mark, she never broke it off with Miller. They had been carrying on an affair the entire time. After Sarah and Mark divorced, she and Miller practically moved in together. And Mark? He had absolutely zero clue this man even existed. “Leo’s paternity is highly questionable,” I blurted out instinctively.

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My system gave me one month to say goodbye to this world. I finally became the magnanimous wife and gentle mother I was supposed to be. I no longer felt jealous of Evan’s lingering feelings for the female lead, nor did I mind our son constantly clamoring for her to be his mother. But these warm and harmonious days didn’t last long. Evan became unaccustomed to it. When he was about to leave again in the middle of the night because of a single phone call from the female lead, I proactively handed him the car keys. His gaze froze, his eyes turning red: “Chloe, do you not love me anymore?” Yeah. I don’t love you anymore. Not even our son. I don’t love either of you anymore. 01 Stella called Evan at 1 AM, crying that she was afraid of the thunder. Evan didn’t hesitate for a second, immediately springing out of bed. I got up too. “Chloe, stopping me won’t work! Stella has been afraid of thunder since we were kids; I have to go!” Evan scolded me with a dark expression. In the past, I definitely would have caused a scene. But not anymore. I just quietly handed him the car keys: “Drive safe.” Evan was stunned. He looked at me in disbelief. “Hurry up, Stella is waiting for you,” I smiled slightly. A flicker of dark, unreadable emotion flashed in Evan’s eyes, but he didn’t linger. He hurried out the door. I knew he wouldn’t be coming back tonight. Before, I would have spent the night tossing and turning. Worrying that he and Stella would rekindle their old flame. But now, there was no need. Because in one month, I’ll be leaving this world. 02 I’m a “Transmigrator,” tasked with completing a mission. My target was the deeply devoted second male lead in this novel, Evan Hayes. According to the plot, Evan was supposed to fall into a severe depression and commit suicide three years after the female lead, Stella, married the male lead. My mission was to change the tragic fate of the second male lead and ensure he lived a good life. Now, the mission is finally over. The system detected that Evan no longer had suicidal tendencies and told me I could go home. Considering that I had married Evan and even had a child with him, the system said I could choose whether to stay or go back. In the past, maybe I would have hesitated. But Stella returned from abroad half a month ago. Evan, who had finally developed some feelings for me, immediately shifted all his focus and attention back to her. Even the son I raised so painstakingly took a massive liking to Stella the very first time they met. He even innocently whispered in my ear: “I wish Aunt Stella was my mom.” So, I had no reason to stay. The system gave me one month to say goodbye to this world. Because once I leave, we’ll truly be separated by life and death, never to see each other again. 03 At 7:30 AM. I prepared breakfast and woke my son up. Leo is 6 years old this year. Just started first grade. The reason Evan and I got married and had Leo was because on the night of Stella’s birthday, Evan got drunk and mistook me for her. He didn’t plan on taking responsibility. But unfortunately, I got pregnant. I played a few tricks and had his family pressure him into marrying me. For the first few years of our marriage, Evan was incredibly cold to me. Later, as Stella’s relationship with the male lead grew stronger, and she even moved abroad with him after they got married, Evan finally started looking at me. Plus, we had Leo. Because of our inextricably tangled relationship, I could clearly feel his attitude towards me changing. But all of that ended when Stella suddenly returned to the country. She came back alone. The very night she returned, she called Evan. I don’t know what they talked about. I only saw a panic in Evan I had never seen before, and then he drove off without looking back to see her. Since then, Stella has frequently appeared in our lives. 04 Stella’s reappearance made me irritable, anxious, and even terrified. I was worried Evan still had feelings for her, but according to the plot, Stella didn’t like Evan at all. I was afraid that in the end, Evan’s depression would relapse because of Stella, and he would commit suicide. So I desperately tried to stop Evan from seeing Stella. Pushed to the brink, I even slit my wrists in front of him. But it didn’t do any good; it only made Evan despise me more. Even Leo would say: “Mom, why can’t you be emotionally stable like Aunt Stella?” But thankfully… The system suddenly told me I could go home. Evan wouldn’t fall into depression anymore. It’s actually quite ironic. I spent ten years on Evan, but in the end, it was the female lead who cured him. As soon as Stella returned, all of Evan’s illnesses vanished. I called Leo again. Leo yelled impatiently: “I want to sleep, leave me alone! Aunt Stella said school isn’t everything! I don’t want to go to school!” I didn’t bother him again. After throwing away all the breakfast I made, I left the house. I had just ordered a coffee and sat down. When I received a call from Evan: “Chloe, what are you doing? Why didn’t you take Leo to school? His homeroom teacher just called me!” 05 I wasn’t surprised the teacher called him. Because she had just called me, and I didn’t answer. Since I’ve already decided to let go, anything regarding Leo should be handled by Evan. “I called Leo, and he said you disappeared first thing in the morning! Chloe, enough is enough. You were so magnanimous last night, and now you’re throwing this kind of tantrum today. It’s really annoying.” Evan’s tone was full of disgust. “Leo said he didn’t want to go to class today, he wanted to sleep, so I didn’t bother him. Isn’t this what you said too? Let kids be kids, don’t force them?” My tone was light. In the past, I disciplined Leo, set rules for him, taught him manners, and cultivated good habits. But in Evan’s eyes, this was all unnecessary. Even when Leo threw bad tantrums, Evan would blame me: “Chloe, Leo is your son, not your doll. Can you stop being so controlling with everyone?” With Evan backing him up, Leo always went against me. But thankfully, Evan was always busy, and I spent much more time with Leo, so most of the time, he was relatively obedient. But ever since interacting with Stella, Leo’s rebellious genes had awakened, and he opposed me at every turn. He said: “Mom, Aunt Stella and Dad have the same ideas, so you are wrong. You’re suppressing my true nature. I wish Aunt Stella could be my mom.” After that. I decided to respect all of them. “Chloe, do you have to be so passive-aggressive?” Evan said coldly: “Since you can’t take good care of Leo, then don’t. It just so happens Stella is feeling lonely living alone right now, so I’ll take Leo to keep her company.” “Okay,” I agreed immediately. “Since you agreed, don’t cause a scene later. I don’t want things to get too ugly between us,” Evan confirmed. He was afraid I would regret it and go bother him again. “Don’t worry.” Evan hung up the phone. I continued drinking my coffee, watching the people coming and going on the street. I’ve been here for ten whole years, and I’ve never really taken the time to experience this world. Wow, the sky can be so blue! 06 After Leo went to stay with Stella. Stella became visibly happier. This was mainly evident on her Instagram. I don’t remember when I added Stella. I probably initiated it. Back when I was trying to win Evan over, I shamelessly tried to befriend her. I watched as Stella religiously posted about Leo’s daily life, three meals a day, without fail. I found it somewhat amusing. Especially today’s post: [Leo suddenly said today that he wants to live with me forever and wants me to be his mom. But I sternly reprimanded him. Saying things like that will break his mom’s heart.] Knowing full well it would hurt me, she deliberately posted it for everyone to see. I couldn’t help but laugh out loud. “What are you laughing at?” Evan asked me, frowning. It was very rare; Evan actually came straight home after work today to have dinner with me. But I only cooked a portion for myself. So, he ordered takeout. “Nothing.” I casually “liked” the post and put my phone down. “Did you suddenly come back because you need something?” I asked him calmly. “Do I need a reason to come back?” Evan suddenly got very angry. I had no idea why he was losing his temper. I wasn’t interfering with his life at all right now. “Chloe, let’s see how long you can keep up this stubbornness!” Evan suddenly put down his chopsticks. It seemed the takeout didn’t suit his taste. Evan left the table. I continued eating my dinner. “Chloe, this Saturday is Leo’s birthday.” Evan finally got to the point: “Don’t forget.” “Okay,” I nodded. I had planned Leo’s 6th birthday a long time ago. I booked the best themed hotel in the city to celebrate. But now, I didn’t know if we’d still be using it. “You still handle the arrangements, but Stella will also be there. In front of our relatives and friends, don’t give her a hard time,” Evan reminded me. “Okay,” I continued to nod. Evan looked at me several times, and only seemed relieved when he saw I didn’t have any particular reaction. But then he took a phone call, and his expression changed again. 07 “Chloe, how long are you going to keep throwing this tantrum?” Evan roared at me. I was baffled. I mean, what am I not doing right now? “Do you know you made Stella cry!” Evan accused me. “What did I do?” “What did you just do on Instagram?” “I ‘liked’ her post. So what?” “You were deliberately being passive-aggressive, weren’t you? You deliberately wanted to embarrass her! Knowing we have so many mutual friends, you still did it!” Evan’s face turned red with anger. I still didn’t understand: “What exactly did I do to her?” “Why did you ‘like’ her post?” “Didn’t she post it to get ‘likes’?” “Anyone else can, but you can’t!” Evan said self-righteously. “…So, am I supposed to be invisible?” I asked Evan carefully. “Do you have to be so aggressive? I told you, there’s nothing going on between Stella and me. I’m just looking out for her. Do you really need to insult her like this?” I was speechless. Deep in thought. Falling into self-doubt. “I originally wanted to spend some quality time with you tonight, but it looks like you don’t need it!” Evan dropped that sentence and slammed the door as he left. Watching him leave, I truly found it baffling. Of course. It didn’t matter anymore. They were all irrelevant people. Not worth wasting my time trying to figure out his thoughts. 08 On the day of Leo’s birthday, I went to the party venue early. The large private room was crowded. Very lively. Leo arrived with Evan and Stella. The moment he saw me, he couldn’t hide the joy on his face. He’s only 6 after all. Not at an age where he can hide his feelings. And we had been separated for 10 days. It was perfectly normal for him to miss me when we suddenly saw each other. “Mom!” Leo called out to me loudly. At that moment, he was about to pull away from Stella’s hand to come to me. I saw Stella crouch down, looking at Leo somewhat sadly. She said: “Didn’t you promise me you’d stay with me the whole time today? You said you wouldn’t leave me alone, right?” Leo looked torn. But he still nodded obediently. Stella smiled beautifully: “I knew you were the best to me.” Her voice even carried a hint of a whine. Like she was acting spoiled. When the female lead acts spoiled, it is naturally flawless and beautiful. It doesn’t feel artificial or fake at all. No wonder men can’t resist. I didn’t bother them either. When the birthday party started, Leo took the microphone to give a speech. With his childish voice, he said: “Thank you everyone for coming to my 6th birthday party. Thank you to Dad and Mom for carefully preparing this birthday party for me…” He paused, then said loudly: “A special thanks to Aunt Stella. Aunt Stella is really good to me. My birthday wish is that she stays young and beautiful forever.” Stella was standing not far from me. There were tears of emotion in her eyes, moving to anyone who saw it. In that moment, I saw Evan’s hand gently pat Stella’s shoulder. And also in that moment. Evan’s gaze shifted to me. I quickly looked away. Afraid of intruding. After Leo finished speaking, everyone started eating. The party was a buffet. Just as I was leaving the food area holding a glass of red wine, I bumped right into Stella. The red wine spilled all over Stella’s white dress. Every last drop. “Chloe, why would you do this to me? Did I do something wrong?” Stella’s eyes turned red as she pitifully accused me. Before I could even speak. Evan quickly rushed in front of me, shielding Stella tightly behind him: “Chloe, enough! I’ve put up with you long enough lately!”

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The day I transferred to my new class, everyone looked at me with pity. Because my desk mate was the school’s notoriously vicious, unrestrained bad boy. The girl sitting in front of me was a famously arrogant, domineering rich heiress. And the guy sitting behind me was a ridiculously popular teen idol who barely ever showed up to class. It’s worth mentioning that these three made up the most stable triangle in the entire school—ranking dead last, second to last, and third to last in every exam. But starting today, they wouldn’t have to hang their heads in shame over their terrible grades anymore. Because their god had arrived. 01 On my first day at my new school, I walked into the classroom wearing faded, washed-out jeans and slightly cracked sneakers. Everyone looked at me with pity. Probably because I looked completely out of place in this elite, private prep school. My assigned seat was in the far back corner. After the teacher pointed to my desk, the class’s pity turned into sheer sympathy. I didn’t understand why until I got to my desk. My desk mate was a guy with an absolute mess of spiky, alternative hair. He wasn’t wearing the school uniform. Instead, he wore a black tank top under a black leather jacket covered in studs. He looked like someone you absolutely did not want to mess with. My desk’s cubby was also completely stuffed with his junk. Gaming consoles, decks of cards, and a massive hoard of snacks—it honestly looked like a convenience store exploded inside my desk. This punk-rock desk mate loudly chewed his gum and warned me in a low voice: “If you want to survive at this school, keep your mouth shut and sit somewhere else.” There were actually a few empty seats further back, but they were too far from the chalkboard. I wouldn’t be able to read anything. “Are you deaf? I said move. You don’t deserve to sit next to me.” The moment the words left his mouth, I started pulling everything out of my cubby, dumping it all onto the top of my desk. “Wow! Are all these welcome gifts for me?! Thank you so much! You are so sweet!” “Bullshit! Who said those were for you?!” He lunged forward to grab his stuff, but I dodged. “Oh, if they aren’t for me, did you bring them from home? Wait, doesn’t the school rulebook say we can’t bring these things to class?” The teacher at the front of the room frowned deeply, glaring at him. “Liam? What is going on? Haven’t I told you countless times that gaming consoles are strictly prohibited on school grounds?” Seeing the teacher marching down the aisle to confiscate his stash, Liam panicked and forcefully shoved the entire pile toward me. “No, Mr. Davis! These are… these are all welcome gifts for the new student!” Liam glared at me, gritting his teeth as he hissed, “After all, a broke charity case like you has probably never seen nice things like this in your entire life, right?” He didn’t hold back his insults. Unfortunately for him, if someone throws mud at me… I pick it up, shove it in their mouth, and insult their entire bloodline. “Thank you so much! You’re right, I really haven’t seen things like this before! Back in my rural village, I only ever saw pigs that ran around in the mud. This is my very first time seeing one that speaks English!” Liam’s eyes went wide. Just as he was about to explode, I quickly pointed at a sheet of Peppa Pig stickers sitting in the pile, smiling innocently to show I totally meant no offense. The teacher interrupted us, rushing me to sit down so class could start. The second I sat down, Liam threatened me: “I’m going to remember this. Just you wait. I’m going to make your life a living hell. You’re gonna eat it.” Hearing that, I excitedly pulled a plastic grocery bag out of my pocket. “Oh, perfect! Can I get it to-go?” I had heard the cafeteria food at this prep school was incredible. I had fought tooth and nail through a brutal national academic competition, catching the principal’s eye, which earned me a full-ride scholarship to get in here. But apparently, on my very first day, I had provoked the exact wrong person. 02 As soon as the bell rang, Liam got a phone call and stormed out. The girl sitting in front of me turned around, looked me up and down, and rolled her eyes. “You’re so ugly. You pissed off Liam. Your good days are officially over.” That was when a nearby student whispered to me that Liam was the school’s most notorious bad boy. His family was incredibly wealthy and powerful, so no one dared to cross him. The girl in front of me flipped her long, wavy hair, letting out an ambiguous, mocking scoff. I looked at her, examining her face, and then said with absolute sincerity: “You are so beautiful.” I wasn’t lying. I had genuinely never seen a girl this pretty in real life. I subtly glanced at the name written on her notebook. Chloe Sterling. Even her name sounded expensive. Hearing my genuine praise, Chloe paused. But a second later, she put her arrogant, nose-in-the-air mask back on. “Save the flattery. Don’t think complimenting me means I’m going to protect you.” That reminded me—I probably needed to start thinking about my personal safety. “So… what exactly is he going to do to me?” Drag me outside and beat me up? A one-on-one fight, or getting jumped by a whole gang? No one answered my question. Aside from the arrogant heiress, everyone else just looked at me with deep pity. But I got my answer very soon. Right after school ended, I was “politely escorted” to the basketball gym. Four or five guys surrounded me. Liam sat on the bleachers a few feet away, smiling smugly. “Well? It’s not too late to get on your knees and apologize.” I cautiously backed up, trying to reason with them first. “Come on, guys. Deep down, we’re all the same kind of people.” One of the guys cracked his knuckles, the sound echoing loudly in the gym. He gave a terrifying grin. “Who the hell is the same kind of person as you?” I nodded frantically in panic. “Seriously! Aren’t we all just young, patriotic Americans pursuing the American Dream?” The entire gym fell dead silent. By the time they processed what I said, I had already bolted out the gym doors. The guys yelled, “Don’t let her get away!” and sprinted after me. An epic campus chase sequence officially began. I bolted straight into the principal’s office, scaring the poor man so badly he choked on his coffee. “Chloe?! What are you… hey! Don’t jump!” I had scrambled straight onto the window ledge, half my body hanging outside the building. The principal let out a shrill, panic-stricken scream. The guys chasing me barged in and froze. Liam, especially, stood rooted to the floor, his eyes bulging like saucers. I gripped the window frame tightly. Whenever anyone took a step forward, I leaned further out, terrifying the principal into playing a high-stakes game of Red Light, Green Light. “Chloe! Let’s talk this out! Just come down first, okay?!” I huddled against the window frame, refusing to move. “They’re bullying me! I want my mom!” The principal was sweating bullets. “We can fix this! You’re our top scholarship student! How about this—I’ll call your mom right now, okay?” “My mom is a little hard to reach.” “It’s fine! I’m the principal, I can reach anyone! Just tell me how to contact her!” I thought for a second, then said slowly, “Well, you’ll need to prepare some candles, incense, and maybe an Ouija board… and wait until midnight… Or I could just jump out this window and go see her right now!” I made a sudden movement toward the edge, and the principal literally dropped to his knees in terror. Now, not only was I stunned, but the guys behind me were completely petrified. “Chloe, let’s just talk! Tell me exactly who was bullying you!” I didn’t say a word. I just stared dead at Liam. The principal finally stood up, turned around, and roared at him: “I am calling your father RIGHT NOW!” 03 Half an hour later, a sleek black Mercedes pulled up to the school gates. Liam’s father had arrived. After hearing the whole story, he didn’t hold back, furiously ripping into Liam in front of everyone. “Who gave you the right to act like a mafia boss at school?! Fighting and bullying little girls like some street thug—is that what makes you a man?!” Liam, who had been so arrogant earlier, didn’t dare utter a single syllable. He just stood in the corner, taking the verbal beating. After he finished yelling at Liam, the man walked over to me. “You must be Chloe. I am so incredibly sorry. My son is an immature idiot. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive him.” I gave a silent nod. Liam’s father grabbed Liam by the collar and yanked him forward. “Apologize to her properly! And when her parents get here, you are going to apologize to them too!” “You don’t need to do that, sir. My mom can’t come.” When calling parents, the principal had only called Liam’s dad. The man had vaguely heard about my background from the school board and quickly guessed the answer. “And your father?” “He can’t come either.” The principal quickly stepped in to smooth things over. “Chloe’s family situation is a bit complicated. Both of her parents have passed away.” Hearing that, Liam’s father took a sharp breath, a look of profound guilt washing over his face. After the principal finally coaxed me down from the window and urged me to head home, I was just about to leave when I heard Liam getting chewed out again. “This poor girl has had such a hard life, and you have the nerve to lay your hands on her?! Look at your grades! You are permanently dead last in your class!” “Do you have any idea how much your mother and I have sacrificed for you?! We hire tutors that charge $500 an hour, and this is the garbage report card you bring home?!” “Let me make this clear: if you rank dead last again on the midterm, don’t even bother coming home!” Hearing the words “$500 an hour,” I instantly slammed on the brakes. I waited until the man left. When Liam finally walked out of the office, he spotted me immediately, crouching in the hallway corner. He glared at me, his tone incredibly impatient. “Why haven’t you left yet? Do you want to fight me again?” I violently shook my head, plastering on the most sycophantic, eager smile I could muster, and scurried up to him. “Um… do you need a tutor? I can tutor you! And I don’t charge $500 an hour! $50 is plenty!” Liam rolled his eyes, completely ignoring me, and kept walking. I scampered right behind him, aggressively pitching my services. “I’m serious! Trust me, I guarantee I can get you out of dead last place on the midterm!” “That’s hilarious. Do you have any idea how elite the tutors my parents hire are? They couldn’t fix me. You think you can?” “What if I can?” Liam scoffed, shoving his hands in his pockets, walking with a careless swagger. “Don’t waste my time, and don’t waste yours. I can’t study. Even memorizing a single vocabulary word is a massive struggle for me.” “Then do you believe I can make you memorize a vocabulary word in under 60 seconds?” Liam finally stopped walking. He turned around and glared at me fiercely. “Why are you so annoying?! What do you even get out of this?” His yelling startled me. I instantly put on a deeply tragic, heartbroken expression. “You know… I used to have a boyfriend who I loved very much. But he forgot all about me.” Liam froze in place. After a long silence, he slowly raised a finger and pointed at himself. “It wasn’t… me, was it? That’s impossible. You’re lying.” “Of course I’m lying! The word is ‘Forget.’ F-O-R-G-E-T. To fail to remember. Memorize that word, it’s definitely going to be on the midterm.” The moment I said that, Liam’s face contorted violently. “Dammit. The knowledge just entered my brain in the most toxic, non-consensual way possible.” 04 But the very next day, Liam walked up to my desk and threw $500 in cash right in front of me. “Starting today, you’re my tutor.” I snatched the cash instantly and gave him an ironclad guarantee. “No problem! I promise you won’t be dead last on the midterm!” And so, I began crafting a highly customized curriculum for Liam. Since I was getting paid, I was going to be professional. I designed the entire lesson plan specifically tailored to his abysmal baseline. But Liam made one thing clear: his secret, desperate grind session absolutely could not be discovered by anyone else. So, every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday after school, we met in secret at the basketball gym. But despite our best efforts, people eventually found out. Not long after, a girl came up to me and started fishing for info. “Are you and Liam getting really close lately? I saw him waiting for you after school the other day.” I looked at the girl. She looked somewhat familiar, but I couldn’t remember her name to save my life. I gave a neutral, non-committal answer. “We’re alright.” The moment I said that, a loud bang erupted from the front row. Chloe slammed her hands on my desk, standing up furiously. “What exactly is your relationship with Liam right now?” The girl who was questioning me quickly pulled Chloe down to sit, then shot me a venomous glare. “Do you have any idea that Chloe and Liam have been childhood sweethearts forever?! Don’t even think about trying to seduce him.” “Wait, no, I’m not!” I desperately wanted to explain, looking at Chloe with profound, maternal disappointment. Such a beautiful, delicate flower. Why on earth is she obsessed with that spiky-haired pile of manure? Chloe completely missed the pity in my eyes. She just glared at me harder. “I don’t care what your relationship is. Just stay the hell away from him.” I felt incredibly conflicted. Just yesterday, Liam had tossed another $2,000 at me to keep tutoring him. According to him, the last English pop quiz was the first time in his entire life he had managed to translate every single sentence without staring blankly at the paper. Seeing my silence, Chloe angrily kicked my desk. Unfortunately for her, the desks at this prep school were built like tanks. The desk didn’t budge an inch, but her face twisted in agonizing pain. Seeing her get hurt, the girl next to her immediately started comforting her, while shooting me an icy, threatening look over her shoulder. “You’re dead. Wait for me after school.” I didn’t have to tutor today, and I was originally planning to go to my part-time job. Right before leaving school, I went to the restroom. The moment I walked out of the stall, a group of girls cornered me. I rubbed my temples and gave a bitter laugh. Seriously? What kind of garbage school is this? People are constantly forming fight clubs every single day. Does the administration literally do nothing?! “Hey! Who gave you the nerve to try and seduce Liam?” The girls backed me into a corner, hurling insults one after another. “So shameless. All she knows how to do is play the pathetic victim.” “Exactly. Let’s beat the crap out of her, that’ll teach her a lesson.” Standing on the edge of the group, I spotted the girl who had been hovering around Chloe earlier today. She seemed to be the ringleader. Another girl next to her asked nervously, “Hey, what if Chloe finds out we did this? She explicitly told us not to…” “Shut up! Everyone knows she likes Liam! We’re just helping her out!” With that, the ringleader gave the signal, and the group rolled up their sleeves and marched toward me. I glanced around the room, then immediately ducked into the janitor’s closet. “If you mess with me, you are kicking a literal steel plate!” I grabbed a wet mop and dunked it directly into the nearest toilet bowl. The girls’ eyes went wide in sheer horror, and they scrambled backward. As the ancient proverb says: A mop dipped in toilet water makes you an invincible god of war. Today, they were going to taste my wrath. Just as the epic battle was about to erupt, someone suddenly burst into the restroom. “STOP! What are you doing?! Who told you to bully her?!” 05 Chloe shoved her way to the front, shielding me behind her, and screamed at the ringleader. “Didn’t I tell you explicitly NOT to bother her?! Sarah, what the hell is this?!” The girl named Sarah shrank back nervously. “I… I was just trying to help you! You saw how close she was getting to Liam. What are you supposed to do? We just wanted to warn her to stay away from him.” “I told you I don’t need your help! If I have to win a guy through cheap bullying, I don’t fucking want him!” I quietly poked my head out from behind Chloe’s back, studying her expression. Damn, sister. That was badass! “If I like him, I’ll pursue him myself. But who he chooses to like is his own business.” “Most importantly, I will absolutely not allow you to use my name as an excuse to bully someone else.” With that, Chloe grabbed my wrist and dragged me out of the restroom, leaving the group of girls standing there, too terrified to follow. Once we were out in the hallway, Chloe finally apologized to me. “I’m sorry. I had no idea they were going to do that to you. I asked Liam about it—he said you guys are just tutoring. You should go home now.” I checked the time. It was too late to make it to my part-time job anyway. My shift was far from school, and it took a 20-minute bus ride just to get there. Honestly, tutoring was way more lucrative. My eyes darted around, looking at Chloe, and a bold idea suddenly flashed in my mind. “Um… have you ever thought about getting a tutor?” “Me?” “Yeah! Yeah! I heard you’re ranked second to last in the grade. Don’t you want to reconsider?” Chloe rolled her eyes. “So what if I’m second to last? I only stayed at the bottom to be closer to him.” “But he’s getting tutored by me now! I promised him that after the midterms, he absolutely won’t be dead last anymore. When his rank goes up, won’t you just be further away from him?” Chloe instantly fell silent, clearly processing my logic. I quickly doubled down on my sales pitch. “Seriously, just hire me to tutor you too! I promise I won’t play favorites. You guys just listen to my lessons, try your best on the exam, and I guarantee your rankings will be right next to each other!” Hearing that, Chloe agreed on the spot. So, my new schedule began: tutoring Liam on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays; tutoring Chloe on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays; taking Sundays off. Neither of them hesitated when it came to paying my tutoring fees. In less than half a month, my bank account was absolutely overflowing. Even though their academic foundations were horrifyingly terrible, I had the energy and the ruthless methods to fix them. With money in my pocket, my eyes started drifting toward the various shops around the school. There was a bakery that always wafted the smell of fresh bread right when school ended. Every time I smelled it, I practically lost the ability to walk. After tutoring today, I finally worked up the courage to walk into the bakery and buy a strawberry shortcake slice. But as I bought it, the cashier kept giving me a really strange look, making my chest tighten. Is there something wrong with this cake? It was my first time buying a fancy cake in my life, so I was incredibly cautious. I verified the price three separate times before handing over my cash. As I turned around to grab my cake, I heard the cashiers whispering. “Stalker fans are so terrifying these days!” “Seriously. I can’t believe they followed him all the way to his school.” I was still completely confused. Holding my freshly bought cake, I walked out the door—and bumped straight into a tall guy wearing a baseball cap and a black surgical mask. He turned back to look at me, and when he saw the strawberry cake in my hand, his eyes filled with intense irritation. “Do you stalker fans seriously have nothing better to do? What do you want from me?” 06 I looked left. I looked right. Seeing no one else around, I finally realized he was talking to me. The guy talking was incredibly tall. With the cap and mask, I couldn’t see his face, but the absolute disgust in his eyes was impossible to hide. I stared back at him, utterly bewildered. “Bro… who even are you?” If he had persecution paranoia, I highly suggested he seek professional therapy immediately. “Hmph, stop acting dumb. You followed me all the way to my school, didn’t you? You just saw me buy a strawberry cake, so you immediately bought the exact same one.” “Can you please get a life of your own? Stop following me, okay?” Before I could even process what was happening, the guy dropped a “Don’t follow me” and stormed off. Seriously, who the hell was that guy? Why was he acting like such an arrogant prick? The incident stuck in my mind, but I never expected to run into him at school the very next day. I had been at this school for almost a month, and the guy assigned to the desk directly behind me—who had never shown up once—finally made an appearance. I heard he was a teen idol who debuted early and was currently a massively popular boyband member. Because his schedule was so packed, he was practically a ghost, spending most of his time on a leave of absence. I walked into the classroom with my backpack. When I got a clear look at his face, I stopped in my tracks. It was an incredibly gorgeous face. His features were sharp and flawless, looking exactly like someone who had just stepped out of a manga. But just as I stepped closer to get a better look at his face, he made eye contact with me, and his expression instantly darkened. “Are you stalker fans ever going to quit?! How did you even get enrolled in this school?! Does the administration do absolutely nothing?!” His loud outburst made the entire class turn and stare at us. Liam, who had been dead asleep on his desk, woke up groggily and lifted his head. Chloe quickly rushed over and shielded me behind her back. “Noah, what the hell are you saying? This is our new transfer student, Chloe.” Liam instantly backed me up too. “Yeah, back off. She’s our private tutor now. I’m relying entirely on her to get me out of dead last.” Hearing that, Noah finally realized he had made a massive mistake. But after a brief, awkward silence, his response was basically no response at all. “Oh. I see.” He turned his head and refused to look at me, clearly not intending to apologize for falsely accusing me twice. Since I hadn’t actually suffered any real damage, I couldn’t be bothered to argue with him. I had to tutor Liam after school today anyway. We stayed in the basketball gym until it was pitch black outside. Finally, he finished the last question, threw his pen down, and let out a massive sigh of relief. I looked over his completed practice exam, extremely satisfied. I packed up my things to leave. Just as I walked out of the gym, I heard rapid footsteps behind me. “Hold on, wait for me.” Noah suddenly popped out from some dark corner and quickly blocked my path. “Are you seriously tutoring Liam and Chloe right now?” I nodded, looking at him in confusion. Seeing me confirm it, Noah looked like he was having a full-blown panic attack, frantically scratching his head. “Does that mean… they’re never going to be dead last and second to last ever again?!” This time, I nodded even faster. Are you kidding? Under my intensive, hyper-focused training, those two were guaranteed to break into the top 500 on the midterms at the very least. Noah’s eyes went wide, and his fists clenched tightly at his sides. I stared at the bulging veins on the back of his hands and slowly took a step back. What is this guy trying to do? Is he trying to sabotage my paycheck? Suddenly, Noah let go of his fists, rummaged frantically through his designer backpack, and pulled out his phone. “Pull up your Venmo QR code. I’m paying you right now. Starting today, you have to tutor me too.” 07 It turned out, Noah was the legendary “Third to Last” in our grade. He, Liam, and Chloe had formed a stable, unbreakable alliance, permanently occupying the bottom three ranks of the entire school. More importantly, if Liam and Chloe improved their grades, Noah would be automatically bumped down to dead last. And for a massively popular teen idol, being ranked dead last academically was a career-ending PR disaster. “So you have to tutor me. I absolutely cannot be dead last.” I was completely speechless. Because I genuinely couldn’t comprehend how being “third to last” was somehow not a PR disaster. But the moment Noah transferred the money, and I saw the string of zeros hit my account balance, I flashed my brightest smile. Anyone who turns down easy money is an absolute idiot. I instantly restructured my curriculum. Starting today: Noah on Mondays and Wednesdays, Chloe on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and Liam on Fridays and Saturdays. There was exactly one week left until midterms. I unleashed a brutal, all-encompassing academic bootcamp on all three of them. Right before the exam, I hammered my final test-taking strategies into their brains: “Remember: If three answers are long and one is short, pick the shortest! If three are short and one is long, pick the longest! If they’re all random lengths, just pick C!” “For the fill-in-the-blank math questions, if you don’t know it, guess 1 or 0! And any number inside a square root is absolutely going to be a perfect integer!” I had prepared a set of high-yield crash-course study guides and forced them to memorize them purely through brute force. A week later, the midterms finally ended. The results came out quickly. Liam and Chloe didn’t disappoint—they smashed their way straight into the top 500. And Noah successfully avoided the dead-last spot, jumping up over a hundred ranks. When they received their report cards, all three of them were absolutely stunned. Liam immediately pulled out his phone to call his dad and brag. “Chloe, you are a literal god! From now on, I will not allow anyone in this school to raise their voice at you!” “I never in my wildest dreams thought I could get grades like this.” “Thank God. I can finally give my manager a decent update,” Noah sighed in relief. The three of them took turns praising me until my ego was practically in orbit. According to Liam, he had barely eaten or slept leading up to the exams. Because the parent-teacher conferences were scheduled right after the exams, he was absolutely terrified that the second the conference ended, his dad would treat him to a “leather belt massage.” Since I didn’t have any family to attend, while everyone else’s parents filled the classroom, I sat alone at my desk. Under the pitying, sympathetic gaze of the homeroom teacher, I swaggered out of the classroom like a boss. Is not having parents attend really that terrifying? I looked back into the classroom. Liam was standing next to his dad, too terrified to even breathe loudly. Until his dad finally looked up from the report card and broke into a massive, proud smile. “Not bad at all! I knew you had it in you, kid!” Liam nodded excitedly. “I know, right, Dad?! You have no idea how hard I grinded for this.” Looking further back, Noah’s parents hadn’t shown up. Surprisingly, his manager was sitting at his desk. The manager looked at his test scores with an equally thrilled expression. “Finally, some actual improvement! Keep pushing, work a little harder, and we can finally start marketing you as the ‘Genius Scholar Idol’!” Everyone was laughing and celebrating. I was just about to leave when I suddenly heard a sharp, harsh voice: “You barely improved your grades a tiny bit, what are you looking so smug about?!” I turned toward the sound. Chloe’s mother was holding her test paper, flipping it over casually before tossing it aside. “It’s just pure luck. Don’t forget you’ve been second to last your entire life.” Chloe stood next to her. The usually arrogant, domineering heiress was currently gripping the hem of her skirt, trembling with anxiety. “But I scored higher than my little brother this time…” “Why are you comparing yourself to your brother?! Can you even compare to him?! Your brother is brilliant, well-behaved, and mature. You scored higher than him on one single test, what gives you the right to compare yourself to him?!”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “440979”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

The wedding was supposed to start in ten minutes. I was standing in the bridal suite, drowning in a sea of white tulle and pure, unadulterated joy, when my brother, Luke, suddenly looked at me with a deep scowl. He told me I was heartless. Before I could even process the venom in his voice, Parker, my fiancé, reached up and unbuttoned his custom tuxedo jacket. He looked me dead in the eye and said, “I’m sorry, Sadie. We can’t do this today. The wedding is off.” Panic flared in my chest. I reached out, my fingers trembling as I grabbed the hem of Parker’s jacket, begging them both to stop. I told them this was a sick joke, and it wasn’t funny. Parker just sighed, looking at me with a mixture of pity and disgust. He asked me if I ever spared a thought for the girl whose life I had destroyed while I was casually dropping hundreds of thousands of dollars on a fairytale wedding just to show off. I froze, my mind going blank. He kept going, his voice cutting through the air. “You got Lexi expelled back in high school. You ruined her life. Do you have any idea how hard she’s had it all these years because of you?” Hearing Lexi’s name was like a physical blow. I stood there, paralyzed. She was the one who had bullied me. She was the reason I had to take a leave of absence, the reason I spiraled so deep into depression that I almost ended my own life. The jagged, ugly scars across my wrists—the ones Parker used to trace with tears in his eyes, promising to protect me forever—seemed to burn. Inside my bridal clutch was a positive pregnancy test, a surprise I had planned to give him today. Now, looking at his cold face, it felt like a cruel cosmic joke. … Parker wouldn’t stop talking, and every time he mentioned Lexi, his eyes filled with an undeniable, aching tenderness. “Her family didn’t have money, Sadie. After she was expelled, she had to work illegal, grueling jobs just to survive.” He stepped closer, his voice dropped to a harsh whisper. “You’ve been pampered your whole life. How could a girl like you ever understand what a beautiful, defenseless young woman has to endure in this world just to get by?” Dizziness washed over me. None of this felt real. I stared at him, my voice small and shaking. “Parker… she tormented me. I begged Luke to report her to the school board because I couldn’t breathe anymore. You supported me back then. You knew…” “Enough!” Luke snapped, cutting me off. The harshness of his shout made my eyes sting instantly. Our parents died when we were kids. Luke was the one who had held my hand at their graves and sworn to spend his life taking care of me. To make enough money to give me a good life, he had worked himself to the bone, destroying his kidneys in the process. I had secretly gone through the donor matching process and gave him one of my kidneys, keeping it a secret from everyone. I had only ever seen my big brother cry once. It was when he found out about the kidney. He had broken down, hugging me so tight my bones ached, whispering, Sadie, I will protect you for the rest of my life. I guess a lifetime is much shorter than I thought. Luke pulled out his phone and shoved a picture in front of my face. It was a hospital room. A woman lay on the bed, emaciated and pale as a ghost. Parker was sitting by her side, holding her hand with an intimacy that shattered my heart. “Do you know that Lexi developed severe depression after what you did?” Luke demanded. “Look at her. She’s living a waking nightmare, and you, the person responsible for it all, have the nerve to throw yourself a million-dollar wedding?” I looked at the face in the photo. It was the face that had haunted my nightmares for a decade. Reflexively, I took a step back, knocking the phone out of Luke’s hand. A cold sweat broke out across my skin. “No!” I whispered. The word that wanted to follow was I’m sorry. Because back then, I wasn’t allowed to fight back. That was the rule Lexi had hammered into me. The first time she targeted me was over a pair of shoes. Lexi was the queen bee, showing off her brand-new designer sneakers to a crowd of girls in the dorm. But another girl, eagle-eyed and blunt, looked at my feet and spoke up. “Wait, Sadie’s are the real deal. Lexi, yours look like knockoffs.” I had tried to laugh it off and make an excuse to save Lexi’s pride, but she just stood there, her face dark and silent. Later that night, I was distracted, putting on my sneakers to go to the library. A blinding, white-hot pain shot through my foot. I looked down. Two thumbtacks were lodged deep in the sole of my foot, slick with blood. Terrified, I had gone to Lexi to apologize, practicing my words all night. But when I found her, she just smirked at me, looking me up and down. “I never noticed how big your boobs are, Sadie. Do you let guys feel them up all the time?” She sneered. “I mean, how else does an orphan with no parents afford shoes that expensive?” The surrounding girls erupted in laughter. No matter how much I explained that my brother bought them for me, the narrative was set. From that day on, the entire school “knew” that I had an older, wealthy benefactor who was definitely not my brother. The suffocating shame of that memory rushed back to the present. My hands gripped the expensive fabric of my wedding dress, crushing it into a ruined heap. Seeing me like this, a flicker of guilt finally crossed Parker’s face. He reached out, gently wiping a tear from my cheek. “It’s just a wedding, Sadie. We can always reschedule and do it later,” he said, his voice soothing, manipulative. “But Lexi is in a really bad place right now. If she finds out we went through with this today, she might actually kill herself. You wouldn’t want to be responsible for someone’s death, would you? Be a good girl.” Outside the heavy oak doors of the suite, the guests were getting restless. The murmur of the crowd grew louder. “Is this wedding happening or what? Why are they taking so long?” “Did someone get cold feet? Oh, this is going to be good gossip.” I looked at Parker, the man I had loved for half my life, my voice cracking with a final plea. “You know how much today meant to me. Please, don’t do this to me…” Before I could finish, Luke’s phone rang. The panicked voice of a nurse blared through the speaker. “Mr. Evans! Miss Lexi is having another episode! Please come quickly, she’s trying to hurt herself!” In the background, I heard a woman screaming hysterically. “Let me die! Why does the person who ruined me get to be happy?! Let me die!” The last trace of guilt evaporated from Parker’s eyes. He didn’t even look at me again as he turned and strode out of the room toward the stage to face the crowd. Moments later, a wave of gasps and shocked whispers echoed from the ballroom as Parker calmly announced that the wedding was canceled. Luke didn’t yell at me before he left. He just looked at me with a profound disappointment that screamed, Why are you being so selfish? Then, they both ran out, their retreating backs so familiar. It was funny. Back in high school, these were the exact same two men who had hated Lexi on my behalf. Luke had been too busy working to notice the shift in me at first, so I had confided in Parker, my childhood sweetheart. He had stroked my hair, his eyes burning with protective fury. “Don’t worry, Sadie. As long as I’m here, no one will ever hurt you again.” The next day at school, my desk was clean. No slurs scrawled in permanent marker, no missing textbooks. My desk mate had nudged me, whispering, “Some hot guy just transferred to the class next door. Lexi is already trying to flirt with him, but he totally ignored her. It was brutal.” A cold dread had pooled in my stomach. Sure enough, Parker appeared at my classroom door a moment later, smiling brightly. “Surprise, Sadie! I begged my parents to let me transfer here to protect you!” My heart had plummeted. I turned around instinctively. Lexi was staring at me from across the room, her eyes so full of pure, dark malice it made me shiver. I still remembered that day vividly. After school, it was pouring rain. I was waiting for the car Parker had called for me when a violent force shoved me from behind. I slammed into the wet asphalt and was dragged like a stray dog into a dark alleyway. Terrified, I looked up. Lexi was smiling down at me, a sickening, predatory grin on her face. “Strip her,” Lexi commanded the group of kids behind her. “Let’s see if she really has the body to keep hooking all these men.” The memories of that day were fragmented, suppressed by years of trauma therapy and medication. I only remembered flashes in my nightmares. Rough hands roaming over my body. Blinding camera flashes. Tears mixing with freezing rain. Lexi had crouched down, slapping my cheek lightly. “Aw, Sadie. You can’t say ‘no.’ You have to say ‘I’m sorry.’ Haven’t you learned that yet?” The smell of blood in the air. The agonizing sting of a blade across my wrists, over and over. The last thing I remembered was Parker’s face when he finally found me. It was twisted with a grief so raw it looked like madness. He had held me so tight I thought he would crush my bones, swearing to God he would kill Lexi for what she did to me. Luke had sworn it, too. He promised he would make sure Lexi never knew a day of peace again. Because of the two men who loved me most, I had found the strength to rebuild myself from the ashes. I had survived. And now, ten years later… I was the villain, and the woman who had almost destroyed my soul was their precious, fragile flower. How utterly laughable. I pulled out my phone and stared at an email. It was a job offer for a senior management position overseas, a relocation opportunity I had turned down because of the wedding, because of them. I stared at the screen until my eyes burned. Then, I typed out a reply and hit send: I accept the transfer. I can start immediately. I couldn’t wrap my head around it. How could Luke and Parker, who had witnessed my destruction firsthand, forgive this monster? How could they care about her more than me? Driven by a morbid need to understand, I paid a driver to take me to the private facility where Lexi was staying. It was a luxury sanitarium that cost hundreds of thousands a year. I looked at the billing records at the front desk. The signature on the payments was painfully familiar. The same signature had been at the bottom of every love letter I received as a teenager. The nurse saw me staring and smiled politely. “Are you a relative of Miss Lexi’s too? I haven’t seen you here before, though the other two gentlemen come by all the time.” I forced a polite smile, though my chest felt tight. “Is that so? How long has that been going on?” The nurse thought about it. “About three years now. When she first came in, she was in terrible shape. Her brother—well, the older gentleman—was quite cold at first and didn’t visit much.” “But I guess he saw how pitiful she was, so he started coming more. And then her boyfriend started coming along too.” My breathing stopped. “Boyfriend?” I repeated, my voice barely a whisper. The nurse nodded, a gossipy glint in her eye. “Well, that’s just what we call him privately. He’s never officially admitted it, but a few times after his visits, he asked us to delete the security footage. You know how it is.” I felt like I had been struck by lightning. Dizzy and nauseous, I stumbled down the hallway toward her room. Three years ago. Three years ago, Luke had thrown me a lavish 25th birthday party that was the talk of the town, declaring to the world that I was his princess. Three years ago, Parker had gotten down on one knee and asked me to marry him, and when I said yes, he had set off a firework show that lasted all weekend. While I was drowning in a sea of absolute bliss, believing I was the luckiest woman alive, they were secretly seeing Lexi. Suddenly, all the strange anomalies from the past few months that I had desperately tried to ignore came rushing back. Parker’s increasingly frequent business trips. His short, cold text messages. Even Luke had started sighing in front of me, saying things like, “Sadie, I feel like we’ve spoiled you too much. You need to realize that not everyone in this world is as lucky and blessed as you are.” I had felt so anxious, thinking I had done something wrong. I had walked on eggshells, trying to please them, to make them smile again. And all that time, they were giving the warmth that belonged to me to the woman who had broken me. Suddenly, a soft, intimate sound drifted from inside the room. “Lexi, who gave you permission to hurt yourself again?” It was a man’s voice, thick with repressed, agonizing passion. A wave of bone-deep cold washed over me. For years, that exact same voice had whispered sweet nothings into my ear in the dark. Lexi let out a soft groan. “What are you even doing here? Shouldn’t you be off enjoying your wedding night with your perfect little bride? Go away!” A heavy sigh followed. “Stop crying. The wedding is canceled. Are you happy now?” I was shaking so hard I couldn’t breathe. I turned on my heel, desperate to escape this suffocating nightmare, only to crash violently into a broad chest at the corner of the hallway. I looked up through a blur of tears. It was Luke. An overwhelming, childish wave of grief crashed over me. I opened my mouth, desperate to find comfort. “Luke…” But before I could speak, my brother reached up and wiped away my tears. His face was full of exhaustion. “Let it go, Sadie,” he said quietly. Let it go? I stared at him in disbelief. He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Since you found your way here, I’ll be blunt. Parker and I have been keeping tabs on her for years. We wanted to make sure she was miserable. We didn’t want her to have a good life.” “But we didn’t even need to do anything. She’s beautiful, but she had no education. Her deadbeat family kicked her out and forced her to work in underground hostess clubs. Sadie, if we hadn’t stepped in to save her three years ago, those men would have literally played her to death.” Luke’s eyes filled with a sickening wave of pity. “Compared to what she’s been through, what happened to you in high school was nothing. Stop holding onto the past, Sadie. You’re being vindictive.” He paused, looking at me critically. “Besides, you were a spoiled brat growing up. You probably provoked her back then. Why else would she have singled you out to bully?” The world turned cold. A dull, heavy ache blossomed in my lower abdomen. I felt all the strength drain from my body. Maybe seeing how pale I was, Luke sighed again. “I’ll have the driver take you home. Be a good girl.” I didn’t say a word. I just looked down at my phone. A tear fell onto the screen, perfectly blurring the countdown timer for my flight. I had 24 hours until the plane took off. I went back to the house in a trance and walked straight into Parker’s home office. The computer password was easy. It was my birthday. With shaking hands, I clicked on a hidden folder. It was filled with thousands of photos of Lexi over the past ten years. Covert shots, candid moments, tracing her entire life. The further down I scrolled, the softer Parker’s notes became, and the colder my heart grew. [Lexi’s family sold her to a nightclub. She deserves it. I paid off the manager to make sure they give her a hard time.] [She was groped by some old creep today. The girl is clever, though. She managed to talk her way out of it.] [Lexi is being bullied by the other girls. I secretly had someone move her to a different club. She still looks so sad.] I started laughing. I laughed so hard that tears streamed down my face. They were so incredibly kind. So noble that they could magnanimously forgive my abuser on my behalf. So righteous that they were willing to betray me to save a monster. I shut down the computer, went to the bedroom, and packed a single suitcase with a few clothes. When my hand brushed against the positive pregnancy test, I paused. Then, with absolute, cold finality, I ripped it in half and threw it in the trash can. The sun had long set by the time Parker finally came home. I looked up from the couch. Lexi was standing right behind him, wearing a pristine white dress. I flinched violently, shrinking back into the cushions. Parker immediately rushed forward, trying to pull me into his arms. “It’s okay, Sadie. Don’t be scared.” His embrace didn’t smell like the man I knew. It was coated in the heavy, cloying scent of her perfume. My lips were trembling with pure rage. “Parker… you brought her into our home. How dare you!” Parker pursed his lips, looking incredibly pained. “Sadie, I… I need you to apologize to her.” He avoided my incredulous stare, speaking in a low, placating tone. “You don’t understand. Lexi is in a really fragile state. She has severe self-harm tendencies. She told me that if you just apologize to her, she will cooperate with the doctors and take her meds. After all, you were the one who got her expelled back then.” The dull ache in my abdomen suddenly flared into sharp, agonizing spasms. I looked at Parker and laughed, a cold, bitter sound. “You want me to apologize to the person who traumatized me? Parker, have you lost your goddamn mind?” Parker’s brows furrowed. Before he could speak, Lexi spoke up from the doorway. “Forget it if she doesn’t want to. I don’t want to live anyway. I’m sorry for causing trouble, Sadie.” Her tone was playful, mocking. Hearing those familiar words from her mouth made my blood boil. I stood up, consumed by a feral urge to slap the smirk off her face. But Parker immediately grabbed me, pinning my arms to my sides to hold me back. Lexi looked at me and smiled. “Wow, Sadie. You really were a straight-A student. You still remember everything I taught you, don’t you?” Parker frowned as I struggled against him, my eyes wild. “Calm down, Sadie.” He pulled out his phone. “Look, I’ve already booked a new venue. I’m going to throw you an even bigger, more lavish wedding to make it up to you, okay?” He looked at me as if I were a throwing a temper tantrum over a toy. “It’s just a simple apology, Sadie. Is it really that hard to say?” My breathing became shallow and rapid. I was back in that alleyway in the pouring rain. Her voice was whispering in my ear like a demon. Sadie, when I beat you, you have to say I’m sorry. Got it? The pain in my stomach was now a tearing sensation. “Parker…” I gasped out, clutching my stomach. Seeing me like this, Lexi’s eyes gleamed with malice. She suddenly spoke up loudly, interrupting me. “I don’t feel well. I want to go back to the clinic.” Parker, who had been about to look at me, immediately let go of my arms. “I’ll take you back.” With the last of my strength, I lunged forward and grabbed his sleeve. “Parker, please… my stomach hurts so bad…” He looked down at me, his eyes full of impatience and annoyance. “Sadie, enough. You refuse to apologize, and now you’re faking a medical emergency to manipulate me? Luke was right. We really have spoiled you rotten.” With that, he violently shook off my hand, wrapped his arm around Lexi, and walked out the door. I collapsed onto the floor, staring blankly at the closed door. I looked down. The white rug beneath me was stained with a bright, terrifying crimson. The child I had loved and dreamed of was leaving me, washing away in a pool of blood on the living room floor. The very last tear I would ever shed for these people fell. My heart turned to ash. Let the world be as wide as it may. I was done with them. I never wanted anything to do with either of them ever again. Late the next night, Parker dragged his exhausted body back home. But the moment he opened the front door, a heavy, metallic scent of blood and dampness hit him. A sudden, violent wave of dread washed over his soul.

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A phone call from my old neighbor in the States was the first thing to pierce the sun-drenched silence of my life abroad. The voice on the other end was frantic, hushed, as if relaying state secrets. She told me there was a woman at my front door—very pregnant, very loud—claiming to be the “one true love” of my late husband. I told the neighbor to hand her the phone. I didn’t raise my voice. I simply told her that I was Xavier’s ex-wife, and that before he passed, he’d made me promise that if his “soulmate” ever came looking for him, I should step aside and let them be together. I even told her where he kept the spare key: tucked inside the oversized ceramic planter by the porch. On the phone, she played the part of the fragile, wronged heroine. She whimpered about how she never wanted to break up a family, but the baby changed everything. She bragged that “Xavy” told her she could come to him anytime. She even had the audacity to suggest I just wasn’t young or vibrant enough to hold a man like him. I felt a cold, sharp smile tugging at my lips. Of course, I would help them fulfill their “destiny.” After all, there was nothing left in that house except for Xavier’s corpse, which had been liquefying into the floorboards for three years. On his deathbed, he’d begged me. He told me that if the woman he’d been keeping in the shadows ever came for him, I should give her the company, the house, and his ashes. He wanted to be hers in the end. I’d cried beautiful, crocodile tears and promised him everything. But the second he stopped breathing, I took the keys to the kingdom. I consolidated the company, packed my daughter’s bags, and moved to the Mediterranean to live the life he’d tried to deny me. I didn’t even bother calling the morgue. I wasn’t about to waste a cent on a man who’d spent our marriage dreaming of someone else. I just locked the door and left him there. Now, his “true love” had finally arrived. I figured it was only fair to let her have exactly what she asked for. … 1 Back then, I couldn’t bring myself to pay the funeral costs or the transport fees for Xavier’s remains. So, I let him stay in that secluded suburban “love nest” he’d built for his mistress. To the outside world, I played the grieving, noble widow. I told anyone who asked that I wasn’t burying him yet because I was waiting—holding out hope that his “true heart’s desire” would show up to say one last goodbye. I waited three years. And for three years, Xavier rotted. He sat in that house, the one he’d designed as a sanctuary for his infidelity, slowly turning into a biological hazard while I lived my best life. I was currently in a villa overlooking the Amalfi Coast, my fingers tangled in the hair of a gorgeous Italian twenty-something named Luca, thinking Xavier would never actually get his reunion. Then the phone rang. “My god, Katherine! Your husband’s little plaything is here. She’s at least six months along. What do I do?” It was simple. She’d waited three years to come looking for him, which meant she was either out of money or out of options. She wanted the man? She could have him. I’m not a petty woman. The neighbor handed over the phone. I listened to the girl’s pathetic attempts at intimidation, calmly gave her the location of the key, and hung up. I pushed Luca’s perfect abs away with a newfound surge of adrenaline and opened the Nest security app on my laptop. I wasn’t going to miss the season finale of this drama. “Cara, what is it?” Luca pouted, trying to pull me back into the silk sheets. “Not now, baby,” I said, my eyes glued to the screen. “I have a front-row seat to a haunting.” The camera resolution was crystal clear. I could see Hailey’s smug expression, the way she patted her protruding stomach as if it were a trophy. She was wearing four-inch heels and swinging the house key around her finger like she’d just won the lottery. She stood at the front door, her hand on the knob. Then, her face shifted. Her hand flew to her mouth. She scrambled back toward the bushes, and I watched in high-definition as she retched. The “trophy wife” facade crumbled instantly. At first, she probably thought it was just severe morning sickness. But every time she tried to step back onto the porch, her body revolted. The stench of three years of stagnant, unventilated decay is not something a human nose can rationalize. She vomited five times before she finally stood there, pale and trembling. “Xavier said he’d wait for me forever,” she whispered to herself, loud enough for the porch mic to catch. “Why does it smell like something died in there?” Then, she started gasping for air, clutching her stomach, brainwashing herself. “It’s just the pregnancy. It’s just me.” She was determined. Xavier had gone silent three years ago—no texts, no wire transfers, nothing. She assumed he’d been locked away by his “bitter old wife.” She’d spent those three years going through grueling rounds of IVF with the samples he’d frozen, desperate to produce an heir. Now, she was back to claim her throne. She believed that once Xavier saw his son, he’d hand over the Ronald empire on a silver platter. Hailey gritted her teeth, the veins in her neck bulging as she fought the urge to vomit again. She turned the key. The door swung open. She stepped into the foyer and called out in a sing-song, sugary voice: “Xavy! Come see your girl and your little prince!” The moment she opened her mouth to speak, the concentrated, pressurized wall of death from inside the house rushed into her lungs. 2 “Oh god—Xavier! Gag—” I was laughing so hard in Italy that tears were streaming down my face. On the screen, Hailey’s legs looked like overcooked noodles. She collapsed onto the porch, her face twisted in a mask of pure agony. She was clutching her belly, terrified for the baby, but she couldn’t stay away. She crawled back a few feet, staring at the dark hallway of the house with a mix of longing and horror. She scrambled for her phone and called me back, her voice a screeching wreck. “You old hag! Where did you hide him? Where is Xavier?” “I’m carrying his child! You can’t keep us apart anymore! Half of everything he owns belongs to my son!” My fingers traced the lines of Luca’s tattoos as I leaned back. “Hailey, honey, he’s right there in the house. Didn’t you see him?” I couldn’t help it. I let out a sharp, melodic laugh. That sound was the breaking point for her. She started screaming into the receiver. “What are you laughing at? You’re a pathetic, discarded housewife! Just wait until I tell Xavier how you’ve treated me! He’s going to divorce you and leave you with nothing!” “Go ahead,” I said, my voice dripping with mock-sincerity. “Go tell him everything. Ask his family if you don’t believe me—he’s been waiting in that house for you for a long, long time.” I hung up. My daughter, Jade, walked into the room, adjusting her designer sunglasses. She looked at me with that sharp, teenage cynicism she’d inherited from me. “When are we going back to deal with that bitch?” “Language, Jade,” I corrected her, though I wasn’t really annoyed. It was time to go home. I couldn’t let the “true love” reunion happen without being there to witness the fallout. Xavier wanted me to “set them free.” Hailey could have her inheritance. She could have exactly what was left of him—a three-year-old biological weapon. 3 I found out about the affair when I was three months pregnant with Jade. It was a difficult pregnancy; my stomach was a roadmap of bruises and needle marks from the hormone shots. Xavier walked in on me one night while I was changing. He looked at my bruised, swollen skin and actually recoiled. He made a face of pure disgust. “Kat, you’re honestly repulsive,” he’d said. He stopped coming home after that. I spent my entire pregnancy in a cold, quiet house. The day I went into labor, the headlines in New York were splashed with photos of him at a gala with a “young, mysterious muse.” After the birth, I tried to leave. I wanted a divorce, a clean break. But Xavier knew exactly how to hurt me. He knew my daughter was the only thing I had left. “You can divorce me,” he’d told me, eyes cold as ice. “But you’ll leave the kid. Do you really think the courts will give a ‘depressed, unstable’ mother custody against a man with my resources?” He didn’t care about Jade. He just cared about his image. “Keep your mouth shut, play the part of the happy wife, and you get to keep your daughter. If you ever harass Hailey, I’ll make sure you never see the girl again.” So, I checked out. For years, I treated him like he was already dead. Maybe it was karma that his brain turned against him. He was diagnosed with stage four glioblastoma and spent his final months wasting away. When his family came to visit him in the hospital, I played the grieving saint. The moment they left, I had the nurses wheel his bed into the hallway next to the public restrooms. He couldn’t speak, couldn’t complain. To the world, I was the devoted wife. To him, I was the last thing he’d ever see—a woman who no longer felt anything for him. Before he died, he had one final “spark” of life. He’d crawled out of bed and somehow made it to that suburban house, hoping to find Hailey. But she’d vanished the moment the money stopped flowing. He died in that house, crying for her. His last words were a plea for me to “give her everything” if she ever returned. I smiled at him as the light left his eyes. In his blurry vision, I’m sure I looked like I was weeping. “I’ll make sure you’re together forever,” I’d promised. And I kept that promise. I let him stay right there, in their “love nest,” waiting for his queen. As for the money? I’d moved every cent of the Ronald fortune into offshore accounts and trust funds for Jade years ago. He died in the morning. By that afternoon, I was on a private jet to Europe, tasting salt and freedom for the first time in a decade. 4 To keep the company’s stock from plummeting, I never officially announced Xavier’s death. I told the board he was “recuperating in seclusion.” Only a few close family members knew the truth. Hailey had spent the last week digging, eventually confirming that Xavier was indeed at the house. She didn’t notice the strange, pitying looks the neighbors gave her. Under my strict instructions, nobody told her he was dead. Hailey convinced herself that Xavier was waiting for her in their house of memories. Because she’d been vomiting so much from the “smell,” her doctor put her on bed rest, so she spent her days writing flowery, delusional letters to him and mailing them to the house. She wrote pages about how much she hated me and how he needed to “punish” me. I had someone collect those letters and burn them over Xavier’s remains. It felt poetic. The day Hailey was cleared to leave the clinic was the day I landed back in the States. She decided to make an event of it. She showed up at the house with a pack of tabloid reporters in tow, ready to “expose” my cruelty and claim her place as the true Mrs. Ronald. The press followed her into the gated community, but as they got closer to the house, their faces began to pale. Hailey kept gagging. She turned to a reporter from a major gossip site and gave a weak, practiced smile. “Excuse me. My pregnancy cravings are just… a bit intense today.” One of the younger cameramen looked around, squinting. “Is Mr. Ronald really in there?” Hailey straightened her back, radiating false confidence. “Of course! This house was our private sanctuary. He built it for me.” Gag. A veteran journalist in the back had already figured it out. He’d covered crime scenes before. He quietly adjusted his body cam and pulled a mask out of his pocket. He recognized that smell. It wasn’t “morning sickness.” It was putrefaction. He tried to probe. “Miss West, do you notice a… peculiar odor?” Hailey was terrified the press would leave before she got her “big reveal.” She forced herself to take a deep breath, her face turning a sickly shade of grey. “Odor? I don’t smell anything. You’re just being dramatic.” We arrived at the porch. Hailey pulled a key from her designer bag. Just as she lined it up with the lock, I stepped out from behind a tree, wearing a high-grade charcoal mask. “I wouldn’t go in there if I were you,” I called out. I stayed a good thirty feet away. Hailey sneered at me. “Oh, look who it is. The old hag finally showed up to try and stop me.” I shook my head. “Is being a mistress an addiction for you? You couldn’t get enough three years ago, and now you’re trying to force a dead man to father your child? You’re really committed to the bit, aren’t you?” Hailey patted her stomach, her eyes gleaming with malice. “Watch your mouth. When Xavier sees me, I’m going to have him destroy you. And that daughter of yours? I’ll make sure he ships her off to some boarding school in the middle of nowhere.” She smiled, a sharp, ugly thing. “Her inheritance will be my son’s welcome-to-the-world gift.” The reporters went silent. The cameras were rolling, catching every word. I pressed my lips together, keeping my temper in check for the sake of the recording. “Fine. You want to go in? Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” “Xavier couldn’t even close his eyes when he died because he was waiting for you. Go ahead. Be with him.” Hailey hesitated for a fraction of a second, a flicker of doubt crossing her eyes. But the thought of the Ronald billions was too strong. “Liars like you always try to play mind games. I’m going in.” She turned the key. “Xavier told me if I ever got pregnant, he’d give me the world! He only wanted my children. Not yours!” I watched her silhouette disappear into the dark foyer. The second the door closed behind her, her voice changed. “Xavy? Where are you? Your mean old wife is being so scary! I have our baby, and she’s so jealous—” The voice cut off. A heartbeat later, a scream erupted from the house—a sound of primal, bone-deep terror.

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The engagement party had finally begun to wind down, the heavy scent of lilies and expensive perfume hanging in the stagnant air of the ballroom. We had just taken our seats at the head table—my family, the man I was supposed to spend my life with, and his parents. Then, he did it. Without a word, he reached for a plate in the center of the table and grabbed one of the signature honey-glazed wings—the Whitaker family’s pride, a recipe that had built our restaurant empire. He started eating it. Not just eating it, but devouring it with a feral, mindless speed that made my stomach turn. I froze, a chill crawling up my spine. “Oliver,” I whispered, my voice tight. “Why are you eating the wings?” He didn’t even look up, wiping a smear of glaze from his chin with the back of his hand. He sounded bored, dismissive. “They’re just wings, Norah. My family eats what we want. Why are you making such a big deal out of it?” His words hit me like a bucket of ice water. The noise of the ballroom—the clinking of crystal, the polite laughter of three hundred guests—faded into a dull hum. I felt a sudden, terrifying clarity. “The engagement is off,” I said, my voice ringing out across the table. “Right now.” … The man I knew as Oliver Donovan froze. The half-eaten wing hovered in mid-air, a gruesome little trophy. He blinked, finally sensing the shift in the atmosphere. He dropped the wing back onto the fine china and shifted into that persona he’d used since we were kids—the one that always worked. “Norah, honey, come on. I’ve been up since five this morning. I’m starving. Is this some weird Whitaker family tradition I missed? You never told me I had to ask permission to eat an appetizer.” I didn’t answer immediately. I looked down at the mangled piece of poultry on his plate, then back up at him. I was looking for a ghost. “Why,” I asked, my voice eerily calm, “did you choose to eat that?” He laughed, a nervous, jagged sound, and reached for my arm. I flinched away. “I told you! I’m hungry. It’s just a wing! Is there a law against it?” I pulled my hand back and rested it in my lap, my heart hammering against my ribs. “Oliver, I’m going to ask you one more time. Are you sure you’re allowed to eat that?” The smile on his face curdled. He looked toward my mother, sitting to my left, and reached for her hand with a performative whine. “Diane! Please, tell Norah she’s being ridiculous. It’s a wing. She’s acting like I just insulted the family crest. Do I really not ‘deserve’ to eat at my own engagement party?” My parents had treated Oliver like a son since the day he was born. Our families were old money, old friends; they doted on him, blinded by decades of shared history. My mother reached over and patted his head, her eyes softening. “It’s just a wing, sweetheart. Of course you deserve it. The Whitaker Grill is practically yours now, anyway. If you love them that much, I’ll have the chef send a crate of them to your house tomorrow.” He shot me a triumphant, smug look. I felt a pang of nausea. “You really don’t know, do you?” His patience snapped. He stood up, walked toward the buffet line, grabbed another wing, and literally tossed it into my lap. “You want one, Norah? Is that what this is? You’re throwing a tantrum because you wanted the last one? I knew the Whitaker wings were exclusive, but this is insane. I told the kitchen to make extra just for us!” His mother, Mrs. Donovan, rushed to his side, rubbing his shoulder as if he were the one being bullied. Before I could speak, she turned her venom on me. “Is this a power play, Norah? Are you trying to humiliate my son on his big day? Is the Whitaker family so bankrupt that you’re rationing food now? I won’t have Oliver treated this way!” My mother’s face hardened. She looked at me with a mixture of embarrassment and fury. “Norah Whitaker, stop this! You are making a scene over a piece of chicken. You’re being a spoiled brat. Apologize to Oliver right now!” Oliver stood there, his face flushed red, looking like the victim of a grand injustice. I looked at him, then at the sea of faces in the ballroom. With a slow, deliberate motion, I stood up and shoved the table. It didn’t flip, but the screech of wood on marble was like a gunshot. “Fine,” I said, the words tasting like copper. “It’s about the wing. And because of it, I’m done. There is no wedding.” The room exploded. The hushed whispers of the elite turned into a roar. “Did she just dump him over an appetizer?” “I bet she has someone else. She’s just looking for an excuse.” The whispers were like thorns. Oliver rushed toward me, trying to grab my hands, his eyes welling with tears. “Norah, please! Don’t do this! I won’t eat them again, I swear! We were going to grow old together. Don’t you remember our promises?” I pushed him back with a force that surprised even me. “Grow old with you? I’d rather die. You don’t deserve to stand where he stood.” The room went silent. Just for a second. Then the chaos doubled. My father, who had been silent until now, surged to his feet. His face was a dangerous shade of purple. “Norah! What is wrong with you? We aren’t the kind of family that fights over food! Get a grip on yourself!” Oliver started to sob—real, heavy tears. He reached for me again, and I stepped back as if he were a leper. “Keep your hands off me, Oliver. Or whoever you are. This engagement is over because you aren’t fit to be my husband. You aren’t fit to be in this room.” Mr. Donovan slammed his fist onto the table. “My son has given you years of his life! You’re going to throw it away over a snack? Are you even human?” Oliver turned to my mother, clutching her sleeve like a child. “Diane, you know how hard I worked on this party. I was just hungry. What did I do wrong?” My mother’s heart shattered for him. She shielded him behind her, glaring at me. “Norah, enough. You’ve wanted this since you were a little girl. You finally got your dream, and now you’re destroying it over nothing. Stop acting out!” I pulled out a chair and sat down, crossing my legs, looking at him with pure, unadulterated coldness. “The fact that you don’t even know what you did wrong is the funniest part of this whole pathetic charade,” I said. Then, to my mother: “I did want to marry Oliver. But I don’t want to marry this.” Oliver dropped to his knees in front of my mother. “I don’t understand! Why can’t I eat a wing? Why is she doing this to me today?” Mrs. Donovan was dabbing her eyes with a silk handkerchief. “We have never let our son be treated like this. If this is how the Whitakers behave, Norah, then maybe there shouldn’t be a wedding!” Oliver panicked. He scrambled up and tried to lean his head on my shoulder, his voice a desperate whisper. “Norah, stop playing. I love you. I want to marry you.” I stood up so fast he stumbled, falling onto the floor. I looked down at him. “In your dreams. Get out of my sight.” I turned to leave, but his voice stopped me—cold, sharp, and stripped of the whining. “You walk out that door, Norah, and those photos go public.” He stood up, brushing the dust off his tuxedo, his eyes narrowing. “I have the private shots from your bedroom, Norah. You really want the world to see those?” My mother froze. She rushed over to him, her face pale. “Oliver, sweetheart, don’t say that. We’ll fix this. Norah, apologize!” The crowd gasped. “Private photos? Oh, she’s finished.” “Poor Oliver, pushed to the brink by that ice queen.” I felt a surge of rage, but I suppressed it. I looked at his face. If he had photos, they had to be old. Very old. “What photos?” I asked, my voice light. “When did you take them?” He saw me “soften” and let out a breath of relief. He patted his pocket. “That night you were wasted… I wanted to save them as a surprise for tonight, but you forced my hand.” I took a deep breath. “There won’t be a surprise. Delete them now, or I’ll make sure you never walk again.” Oliver’s face went white. He started shaking, pointing a finger at me. “How can you be so heartless? I kept those because I loved you! They were my most precious memories, and you treat them like trash!” My mother snapped. She marched over to me and delivered a slap that echoed through the entire ballroom. My head snapped to the side. “Norah Whitaker, that is enough! You started a fight over a wing, and now you’re attacking him for wanting to keep memories of you? Apologize!” I held my cheek. It didn’t hurt. Not compared to the hollow ache in my chest. I just laughed. “You want me to apologize to this blackmailer? Never. I will never marry you. Do your worst.” Mr. Donovan stepped forward. “Norah, you have dragged our name through the mud today. You will get on your knees and apologize to my son, or those photos will be on every news site by midnight.” Oliver looked shaken, as if he hadn’t expected his father to go that far, but he didn’t stop him. Then my father moved. He grabbed my collar and shoved me, his voice a low growl. “If you want to stay a Whitaker, you kneel. If those photos get out, you’re dead to this family. Don’t think for a second we’ll protect you.” I wiped a streak of blood from my lip. “I’m not afraid of him.” Oliver screamed at me then, his voice cracking. “Norah! You’re forcing me to do this! I know why you’re doing this! It’s him, isn’t it?” He paused, then switched back to that pathetic, hurt expression. “Norah, don’t be stupid. Cut ties with that… that spa boy. That towel boy you’ve been seeing behind my back.” I froze. My mind went blank for a second. My mother went nuclear. She surged forward, shielding Oliver again. “You’re seeing a masseur? A towel boy? So this isn’t about food at all! You’re just trying to cheat your way out of a marriage to a good man!” Suddenly, the doors burst open. A swarm of paparazzi, tipped off by someone, flooded in, flashes strobing like lightning. The Whitaker Heiress and the Spa Boy. It was the scandal of the decade. I frowned, realizing the trap was closing. They thought they had me. They thought they could break me. “So what if I like the towel boy?” I yelled over the cameras. “He’s ten times the man you are! If he were here, I’d marry him right now just to get away from you!” Oliver pulled out his phone, a cold smirk finally breaking through his mask. “You asked for this, Norah.” He tapped the screen, and a video began to play on the large monitors meant for our ‘Love Story’ slideshow. It was a grainy video of me in a dark lounge, sitting close to a man, my hands wandering over his shoulders. Then, an audio recording played—my voice, clear and sharp. “Oliver, if you tell anyone about this, you’re dead. I’ll ruin the Donovans. I’m in love with Finn, and I’m calling off the wedding.” Mrs. Donovan shrieked. “All this drama! All this lying! Just so she could run off with a servant! She’s been planning to sabotage this since day one!” The reporters swarmed me, microphones thrust into my face. “Norah, is it true?” “Are you leaving a Donovan for a masseur?” “What about the photos?” I stood there, nodding slowly. “Yes. The engagement is off. He can post whatever photos he wants.” My father’s face was unrecognizable with rage. He grabbed a crystal vase from a nearby table and smashed it on the floor. “Norah Whitaker, you are no longer my daughter. Don’t ever come back to this house. You’re a disgrace!” I ignored the cameras. I walked straight up to the man who looked like Oliver and spoke in a voice only he could hear. “That was a good move. But it won’t work. It just makes me want to see you burn. The Donovans are finished. Remember I said that.” He looked startled, then went back to his ‘wounded puppy’ act. “Norah, you’re destroying your own reputation just to hurt me. I wouldn’t have said anything if you hadn’t threatened me first. If you leave, we’re done for good!” I didn’t care. I turned to walk away, but my father signaled the security guards. Three of them blocked my path, then grabbed my arms, forcing me to the floor. “Norah!” my father barked. “You aren’t going anywhere until you explain yourself!” I struggled against the marble floor, looking up at the man I was supposed to marry. “You really want to know why I’m doing this?” I spat. “Fine. I’ll tell everyone.”

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