Author: Momo Chan

1 My mother had gone to all the trouble of making me a pot of homemade chicken soup. On her way to my apartment to deliver it, she got into a massive car wreck. That very night, she was wheeled straight into the ICU. Meanwhile, I was throwing an absolute rager. The video of me popping champagne bottles hit the internet, and the public outrage was instantaneous. “Holy shit, what kind of psycho does this? Did a dog eat your conscience? Your mom is fighting for her life in the ICU, and you’re popping bottles? Even animals treat their parents better!” “The greatest tragedy of your mother’s life was giving birth to a piece of trash like you.” “Hell is empty because all the demons are walking among us. I hope you rot.” I completely ignored the endless stream of venomous comments scrolling across my screen. I swayed my hips to the deafening bass, lifting my crystal flute to the camera. “Come on, drink up!” The party music was shaking the floorboards. I had just topped off my glass when my phone started ringing off the hook again. It was my older sister, Tina. I answered it with a heavy sigh. Through the speaker, her agonizing, ear-piercing wails flooded my ear. “Harper! Mom is gone! She left us!” So loud. I pulled the phone away from my face, deeply annoyed, and rubbed my earlobe. “Alright, she’s dead. It happens. You guys need to lighten up.” “Life and death are just a roll of the dice. Everyone dies eventually. It was bound to happen sooner or later.” “You ungrateful little bitch, are those the words of a human being?” The voice on the other end suddenly swapped to my father, roaring with absolute rage. “You get your ass back here right now and see your mother one last time!” “Hard pass.” I swirled the golden bubbles in my glass. “Why would I go back? It’s bad vibes.” “I’m having a great time over here. If you don’t have anything else to say, I’m hanging up.” To avoid their endless, nagging calls, I just powered my phone off entirely. But less than a minute later, Tina went live on her social media. The background was a somber funeral parlor. Her eyes were puffy and red. She cried to the camera, begging me to come home, and then played the audio recording of the phone call we just had. In an instant, the headline ‘Mother Dies, Cold-Blooded Daughter Refuses to Attend Funeral’ skyrocketed to the top of the trending charts. It completely ignited the fury of the internet. “It happens? Are those even the words of a human being? Your mother worked her fingers to the bone raising you, and this is how you repay her?” “The sister is having a total breakdown, the dad is aging ten years from grief, and you’re just casually sipping champagne? Wow, this is the first time I’ve felt actual physical pleasure from cursing someone out.” “Everyone memorize this psycho’s face. If you ever see her in public, cross the street. You don’t want to be collateral damage when lightning strikes her down.” “Your dad should have thrown you out the window the day you were born. Doxx her, expose her, make sure she’s totally canceled. She shouldn’t be able to show her face in society ever again.” People even started tagging the corporate HR accounts of major companies on LinkedIn. “Take a good look at this girl. If she treats her own flesh and blood like this, do you really want to hire her? Would she have any loyalty to your company or your clients? I will personally boycott any brand that hires this sociopath.” Thousands of people followed suit. The online mob mentality reached a boiling point. My direct messages and voicemails were instantly maxed out, overflowing with the most vile, graphic death threats imaginable. Right around then, a close friend of mine couldn’t sit back and watch anymore. He stepped up to defend me online. “Everyone, please calm down. The situation isn’t what you think it is. There has to be a hidden reason for this.” Then, he posted a massive thread of bank transfer receipts, showing all the money I had sent my family over the years. “Look at the dates and the amounts. Every single nice thing in their house was bought by Harper. The fridge, the washer, the AC unit, even the solid gold bracelet her mom wears. Harper bought all of it using her college scholarships and money from working three part-time jobs.” “Since the day she left for college, she hasn’t taken a single dime from her parents. Does a person like that really sound like the monster you’re all making her out to be?” 2 The furious internet mob wasn’t buying a single word of it. “How much did she pay you to run PR for her, you corporate shill?” “Wow, your Photoshop skills are top-tier. Faking bank records now?” “Birds of a feather flock together. Get off the internet. Even if she played the good daughter in the past, her actions right now prove she’s a total sociopath. You can’t wash this clean.” Within hours, his social media accounts were completely overrun and hacked. Right at the peak of the outrage, Tina, who had been streaming from the funeral parlor all day, suddenly had an emotional collapse. Looking directly into the lens, she wailed in absolute agony. “Harper, please come home! Just come home!” “If you’re hurting, just talk to me! I’ll help you fix it!” The very next second, her eyes rolled back, and she collapsed in a dead faint right in front of the casket. The stream erupted into chaos. Dad rushed into the frame, scooping Tina up in his arms, tears streaming down his weathered face. “My sweet girl! Oh, my poor, sweet girl!” “She’s been sitting by her mother’s side day and night, refusing to sleep. She didn’t want me to lift a finger because of my bad back.” “She washed her mother, emptied her bedpans, and took all the burden without a single complaint. She was so worried about her little sister handling the grief that she literally exhausted herself into a coma!” The internet ate it up. “I’m literally sobbing right now. Tina is such an angel.” “She is the definition of a devoted daughter. This is so heartbreaking!” “Please get some rest, Tina. Your mom is watching from heaven, and she wouldn’t want you to ruin your health.” “My heart aches for her. Look at Tina, and then look at that animal of a sister. The difference is night and day.” Watching the clips roll in, a harsh laugh tore from my throat. I casually typed a reply in the comment section. “Stop faking it. You’re so dramatic.” Immediately after, I posted a brand new update on my main feed. “The party continues! We’re going on a seven-day bender! As long as I’m breathing, the music doesn’t stop!” Attached was a high-res photo of a fresh row of Dom Pérignon bottles waiting to be popped. That single post was like pouring a bucket of ice water into a vat of boiling oil. The internet absolutely detonated. It was the final straw that snapped whatever tiny shred of sanity the public had left. “Seven days? Isn’t that the traditional mourning vigil? This ungrateful bitch is using her own mother’s memorial week as an excuse to get wasted?” “Holy shit, this creature doesn’t deserve to breathe oxygen. I’m praying for karma to strike her down tonight.” “They say the spirits of the dead visit their families during the vigil. I hope her mom’s ghost comes back and haunts the hell out of this absolute monster. She is the scum of the earth.” Overnight, Tina’s reputation as the ultimate tragic, loving daughter reached national news. Her follower count skyrocketed into the millions. The next morning, dressed entirely in black mourning clothes, she showed up outside my apartment complex. She had a live stream going and a massive banner in her hands. The banner read in bold, blood-red letters. Harper, Please Come Home. She stood on the sidewalk, screaming up at my window through tears. “Harper, I’m begging you! Please just open the door! Mom is gone. You have to come say goodbye to her!” “Think about everything Mom did for you! We were so poor growing up, but whenever we had anything good to eat, Mom wouldn’t touch a single bite. She saved it all for you.” “She lied and said she wasn’t hungry, just so you could have a full stomach! Remember when you had that awful fever? Mom stayed awake for three straight nights holding you. You were her entire world, and in the end…” Tina choked back a perfectly timed sob, wiping her cheeks. “In the end, she died because she was trying to bring you dinner! Harper, how can you be this cruel? She loved you so much, are you really going to let her cross over with a broken heart?” The chat in her live stream was moving so fast it was a blur. And it wasn’t just the internet anymore. A massive, angry mob had gathered right outside my building. “Don’t cry, Tina! We’ve got your back!” “Someone start a GoFundMe for Tina so she can sue this ungrateful brat. I’ve literally gone through a whole box of tissues watching this. Tina is too pure for this world.” “Get out here and face us, you coward!” The chanting down below was getting louder by the second. I smirked. They really wanted to put on a show, didn’t they? Fine. I’ll give them a front-row seat. 3 I walked over and threw the window wide open. “Are you done acting yet? You look incredibly ugly when you cry.” “Attend a vigil? Ugh, no thanks. It’s bad luck.” “It’s not bad luck! Mom would never hold this against you! Just come home, please!” Seeing me finally respond, Tina looked like she had grabbed onto a lifeline, shaking her head frantically. I scoffed, cutting her off completely. “I really didn’t want to go. But since you came all the way down here to beg me, I guess I can make a concession.” “Tell you what, I’ll send Diesel in my place. That seems pretty fitting.” I put two fingers to my lips and let out a sharp whistle. A massive, sleek black Doberman trotted out from the living room. I reached down and patted his head. “Go on, Diesel. Head downstairs and mourn your mother.” “Woof!” Diesel barked happily, his tail wagging as if he completely understood the assignment. “What’s wrong, Tina? You don’t look happy.” “You…” Tina stared up at me, the color completely draining from her face. She looked like she had just been slapped. I gave her a slow, mocking smile. Then, I glanced down at my phone. The comment section was a literal warzone. I let out an exaggerated sigh. “And as for the rest of you brain-dead keyboard warriors… is this really all you do with your lives?” “You sit around all day with nothing better to do than obsess over a stranger’s family drama. You are a bunch of absolute failures in the real world, desperately trying to feel morally superior on the internet. Pathetic.” “If you all love attending funerals so much, why don’t you go? You can carpool with my dog. It’ll be a blast.” The live stream chat literally froze for a solid second. And then, it exploded like a nuclear bomb. “WHAT THE FUCK! Did I hear that right? Not only is she sending a dog to her mom’s funeral, she’s actively insulting us? She has the nerve to talk down to us?!” “?????” “Holy shit, she is completely unhinged. I can’t take this anymore. I’m calling the police.” “Do it! I’m reporting her too! If she doesn’t end up behind bars, there is no justice in this world.” I watched in real-time as dozens of people bragged about dialing 911. A genuine smile finally broke across my face. But this wasn’t quite enough. I turned around and grabbed a heavy plastic bucket I had prepared earlier. It was sealed tight. I dragged it to the window, looking down at the furious mob. “You guys might want to step back,” I called out sweetly. “I’d hate for there to be collateral damage.” With one massive heave, I tipped the bucket over the ledge. A tidal wave of rancid, fermented garbage sludge and raw sewage plummeted directly onto Tina’s head. Splash. The overwhelming stench of pure, rotting decay hit the air instantly. “Ahhhhh!” Tina let out a piercing, hysterical shriek that cracked in the middle. But she recovered terrifyingly fast, a flash of pure, murderous hatred burning in her eyes. She was still trying to stay in character. “Harper, how could you be so immature? If you hate me that much, just take it out on me!” “Why do you have to drag innocent bystanders into this?” Watching her stand there dripping in filth, trying to act like a saint, I actually burst out laughing. “Sister, I think you need to go home and take a shower. You’ve always been full of crap, but now you actually smell like it.” Right on cue, the wail of police sirens cut through the neighborhood, coming to a screeching halt below my building. “You in the window! You are suspected of public endangerment and assault!” an officer barked through a megaphone. “Cease your actions immediately and come down with your hands visible!” “No problem, Officer! I’m fully cooperating!” I raised my hands with a bright smile and shouted back. The walk from my building to the squad car was a gauntlet. People were screaming in my face. Some people even threw rotten eggs and garbage at me. “Sociopath! Animal!” Even as the police were shoving me into the back of the cruiser, some guy was chasing the car with a brick, trying to smash the window. The internet was practically throwing a parade. “Serves her right! This absolute menace should have been locked up days ago.” “She is a cancer on society. Give her the maximum sentence. People like her are a danger to everyone around them.” “Poor Tina. She didn’t deserve any of this.” 4 By the time I was standing in the defendant’s box in the courtroom, Tina had completely cleaned herself up. She was wearing a crisp, elegant black mourning dress. Her eyes were perfectly red, her posture a masterclass in suppressed grief. The ultimate tragic daughter. “Damn, I threw that bucket way too early,” I muttered, shaking my head in mock disappointment. “Order in the court!” The Judge slammed the gavel down hard. He glared at me with absolute authority, his voice echoing through the silent room. “Harper Preston. The prosecution has charged you with public endangerment, assault, and creating a severe public disturbance. Furthermore, the court notes a shocking display of gross negligence and reckless disregard for basic human decency regarding your late mother.” “How do you plead?” A loud, sharp laugh tore from my throat. “Plead? Why the hell would I plead guilty to any of that?” “There was a rabid dog barking outside my window. Dogs love eating garbage. I just fed it a nice meal. Is that a crime?” “And reckless disregard for human decency?” I looked around the room like I had just heard the funniest joke of my life. “Your Honor, with all due respect, you’ve got this entire thing backward.” The courtroom erupted into a frenzy of whispers. The gallery was practically vibrating with anger. The Judge hammered his gavel repeatedly. “Order! Order!” “Miss Preston, I strongly advise you to watch your tone in my courtroom.” I smiled politely, casually reaching into my pocket. I pulled out a tiny USB drive and held it up. “Your Honor, I would like to submit evidence for my defense against these heavy accusations of moral decay. The proof is right here on this drive. I request that it be played for the court immediately.” The court clerk took the drive and plugged it into the media system. The massive monitors in the courtroom flickered to life. The video showed the interior of Mom’s funeral parlor. People were walking around in black suits, wiping fake tears. Suddenly, a team of grim-faced men in crisp suits stormed into the room. They marched straight toward the casket, forcefully shoving the crowd aside. When my father tried to block them, two of the men grabbed him by the arms and hauled him away. My father was thrashing wildly on the screen. “What the hell are you doing?! Who are you people?” “Why are you disturbing my wife’s rest?! Let me go!” “You can’t disrespect the dead! Is there no law in this country?!” Watching his panicked, desperate face on the monitor, I sneered, my voice cutting through the silent courtroom. “They’re the medical examiners.” I paused, letting the words hang in the air. “Time for an autopsy.” The moment the words left my mouth, a graveyard silence fell over the room. Tina’s face went totally bloodless. But she reacted with terrifying speed. She dropped to her knees, crawling toward my defense box, sobbing hysterically. “Harper, why?! Why won’t you just let her rest? Why do you have to humiliate her corpse?!” “If you’re angry, punish me! You can take my life if you want, but please, I am begging you, leave Mom out of this! Let her go in peace!” “I know you’re just mad about the internet comments! I’ll apologize! I’ll take the blame! Just call those men off! That’s our mother! Your own flesh and blood!” She let go of the wooden railing and started bowing frantically to the gallery and the Judge, tears streaming down her face. “Please, somebody help me! Make her stop!” “Don’t let my mother suffer in death!” Tina’s performance was flawless. The sheer desperation in her voice instantly ignited the crowd’s fury all over again. The public gallery and the live stream chat went completely nuclear. People were screaming, ready to tear me limb from limb. The courtroom descended into absolute chaos. “You animal! Drag her out of that box and beat her to death!” “Your Honor, lock her away forever! You can’t let her desecrate a corpse!” Several people in the gallery completely lost their minds. They shoved past the bailiffs, vaulting over the wooden partition, and tackled me to the ground. Fists and heavy boots rained down on me. Someone grabbed a fistful of my hair and slammed my head viciously against the oak paneling. Warm blood instantly poured down my forehead, blinding my left eye. “You piece of shit! You won’t even let your dead mother rest! Why are you still breathing?!” “I’ll do the world a favor and kill you myself! I don’t care if I go to jail, it’s worth it!” “Order! Bailiffs, clear the gallery! Order!” The Judge was screaming, slamming his gavel so hard the wood splintered, but the mob was out of control. My arms and legs were pinned to the floor. Blood dripped into my eyes, blurring my vision. But on the monitors, the video was still playing. And then, every single scream, every curse, every violent punch in that courtroom ground to an absolute, dead halt. The rage evaporated, replaced by the sound of sharp, collective gasps. “What the…?”

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1 On the day of my sister’s wedding, I personally handed Grant, my new brother-in-law, the gift I’d spent weeks picking out. But when it came time to open the gifts, a hush fell over the entire room. The exquisitely wrapped Hermès box didn’t contain a luxury handbag. Instead, a crude, anatomically correct sex toy lay exposed on the stage. The note attached—”Curious to see which one you like better~”—sealed my fate, cementing the “fact” that I was trying to seduce my sister’s new husband. My sister, Brooke, flew into a rage, accusing me of treachery and attacking me right there at the reception. Even my own parents, convinced I had deliberately sabotaged the wedding, filmed my “disgrace” and posted it online for the world to condemn. In an instant, hashtags like #SisterInLawGivesSexToy and #MaidOfHonorHitsOnGroom went viral in our city. My life, my career, and my future were annihilated by the storm of rumors. Later, unable to bear the relentless cyberbullying, I was on my way to the police station when I got into a car accident. When I opened my eyes again, I was back at my sister’s wedding. And the gift I had personally handed over was sitting center stage, gleaming under the lights… … “And now, let’s see the wonderful blessing the bride’s sister has for the happy couple!” The MC’s voice, identical to the one in my past life, sent a jolt through my entire body. The moment her hand was about to touch the gift box, I shot up from my seat and rushed onto the stage. Under the stunned gaze of every guest, I slammed my hand down on the lid. In my last life, this was the exact moment my carefully chosen gift was revealed to have been swapped for a sex toy. In front of everyone, I was branded a homewrecker trying to steal my sister’s husband. Brooke cut me out of her life, my parents threw me out of the house, and every good thing I had ever known came to a screeching halt on that day. Even my life itself ended in a torrential downpour three months after her wedding. “Ava?” Brooke stared at me, her face a mask of confusion. “What are you doing up here?” I couldn’t let her open it. The tragedy of my past life could not be allowed to repeat. Taking a deep breath, my mind raced. “Brooke! Just opening a gift is so boring! Don’t you want to see the thought I put into getting it for you?” Before Brooke could respond, Grant cut in, his voice laced with irritation. “Don’t make a scene, Ava. This is a big day for your sister and me. We have a schedule to keep, so let’s not waste time. Just open the gift. We can talk about your… ‘thoughtfulness’ later, in private.” I gave him a smile that didn’t reach my eyes. I remembered how, in my last life, after he learned of my supposed ‘unrequited love,’ he acted like a concerned elder trying to guide me away from a dark path, all while subtly hinting to everyone that I’d been obsessed with him for years. The memory made my stomach churn with nausea. Keeping my hand pressed firmly on the box, I played along with his words. “It’s because it’s your big day that we can’t be so casual!” Without giving him a chance to argue, I gestured to the tech booth. The large screen behind the stage flickered to life, playing the vlog I had prepared. The video showed me walking into an Hermès boutique, carefully browsing the collection, and finally, signing the receipt for a custom piece with a staggering six-figure price tag. In my past life, Brooke loved luxury goods, but Grant was broke and always bought her fakes. To avoid any suspicion about the gift’s authenticity, I had specifically filmed the vlog, planning to play it after she opened the gift. But because of that damn sex toy, the wedding descended into chaos. Even when I later showed the video to prove my innocence, no one believed me. This time, I was making a preemptive strike. This had to change the outcome. And it worked. The moment the bill appeared on screen, Brooke’s eyes lit up. The suspicion on her face vanished, replaced by a greedy excitement. She grabbed my hand, her voice eager. “Ava! You really shouldn’t have… this is too much!” Despite her words, her other hand shot out to grab the gift box without a moment’s hesitation. “Not so fast, sis!” I pressed down on the box again, cleverly positioning my body between her and the gift. “It’s crowded in here, and people are moving around. What if someone bumps into it or takes it by mistake? That would be a tragedy. It’s better if I hold onto it and give it to you personally after the ceremony.” I kept my hand firmly on the box, my knuckles turning white with tension. I knew the contents had already been swapped. If Brooke insisted on opening it now, the nightmare would just start all over again. Thankfully, though she was reluctant, the thought of keeping her expensive gift safe won out. “You’re right, you always think of everything. You better guard it with your life! Don’t let it out of your sight!” I nodded with a smile, letting out a small sigh of relief as I picked up the box to head off the stage. But as I turned, the floor beneath my feet suddenly vanished. The portable steps I had used to get on stage were gone. I fell hard, and the gift box flew from my hands, tumbling through the air. Its contents spilled onto the floor, and under the brilliant stage lights, the items gleamed with the tell-tale, fleshy sheen of silicone. In that instant, the entire hall fell dead silent. Brooke’s shriek was so piercing it nearly shattered my eardrums. “Ava! Is this your wedding gift to me?!” My heart plummeted, and an icy dread flooded my veins. Could it be that even with a second chance, I was doomed to repeat the same fate? 2 In that split second, as chaos erupted, I swiftly snatched the flirtatious handwritten card that had landed near my hand and tucked it up my sleeve. By then, Brooke was dragging Grant down from the stage, her face a storm of fury. “Ava!” she screamed, her eyes wide with disbelief. “You handed this box to Grant yourself! I saw you! I thought it was something special, but… you used this disgusting trash to humiliate me!” She clung to Grant’s arm, her eyes red, playing the part of the deeply betrayed sister. “And you even filmed that video as a cover? Tell me, was this whole elaborate scheme just an excuse to seduce your own brother-in-law?” The moment the words left her mouth, the contemptuous stares of the guests pinned me down, just like before. Grant stepped forward then, wrapping a protective arm around Brooke. “Brooke, calm down! Let me explain!” He shot me a look of feigned helplessness. “Ava… she’s young, she doesn’t know any better. Of course, I have no improper feelings for her. Even if she… feels something for me… my heart only has room for you.” He paused, his voice thick with performative pain. “I just can’t believe she would resort to this to ruin our wedding. Brooke, this is my fault. I’m so sorry you have to go through this.” His words acted as a cue, and the whispers around us grew into a wave of condemnation. “So shameless, pulling a stunt like this at her own sister’s wedding!” “She always seemed so innocent, but she’s got a filthy mind.” “Giving a gift like that? It’s a blatant provocation, isn’t it?” My parents, shaking with rage, stormed over to me. My father’s slap cracked across one cheek, my mother’s across the other, leaving my ears ringing. They grabbed my shoulders and forced me down onto the carpet. “You disgraceful thing! On your sister’s happiest day, you just had to make a scene! Are you that desperate for a man you’d go after your own sister’s husband? Apologize to your sister right now!” With that, they shoved their phones in my face, ready to film my humiliation. Everything was happening exactly as it had before. A surge of fury shot through me. I snatched the phone from my mother’s hand and smashed it on the ground. “Are you done?!” I looked up, my face already swelling, my voice colder and calmer than I had ever heard it. “You all keep saying I gave them this, that I’m trying to seduce Grant. Where’s your proof?” Brooke lunged, trying to grab my hair, but I sidestepped her. She stumbled into my mother’s arms. “It’s right here in plain sight! You little tramp, and you still won’t admit it!” I let out a cold laugh. “Are you blind? Did you not see the video? I spent three hundred thousand dollars on your wedding gift. Why on earth would I swap it for this cheap piece of junk?” Brooke froze. She knew a toy like that was nowhere near the price of a custom Hermès. I had already spent the money. The bag was a one-of-a-kind piece, custom-made for the wedding, with their names and wedding date engraved on the hardware. It made no sense for me to switch it out at the last minute for something so worthless. Just then, Grant, who had been silent, suddenly spoke up. “Maybe you changed your mind! Maybe you bought the bag and then regretted it, so you decided not to give it! Ava, I know you can be a bit of a spender, but I never thought you’d do something like this. If you didn’t want to give it, you shouldn’t have! Did you think we would force you? Why use this to drive a wedge between me and your sister and deliberately ruin our wedding?” His twisted logic instantly shifted everyone’s focus back to me. Before the guests could even react, my father shoved me from behind. “Is what your brother-in-law said true?” he bellowed. “Ava, did you really get selfish and swap out your sister’s wedding gift?” My mother clutched her chest, acting as if I’d given her a heart attack. “Is this how I raised you? I told you sisters to support each other! You’re living the high life in the city now, with your own apartment and car, and you can’t even spare a decent gift for your sister? You ungrateful brat! It was only three hundred thousand dollars, not your life savings!” Their baseless accusations sent a familiar chill through me. Growing up, my parents had always favored my sister. They kept Brooke with them, giving her everything she ever wanted, while I was dumped with my grandparents in the countryside, without a cent of support from them. When Brooke dropped out of high school, they pulled strings and borrowed money to get her a cushy office job. Meanwhile, I fought my way through college on student loans and part-time jobs, finally establishing a life for myself in the city. But every time I came home, it was always the same story. “Look how hard your sister has it. You need to help her more.” “You got lucky and made some money, but don’t you forget who gave birth to you!” “What’s wrong with buying your sister something nice? She’s your family!” No matter what I achieved, all I ever got was a dismissive wave. “What’s the point of being so successful if you’re never around? Not like your sister, she stays here to take care of us in our old age.” So, I bought the bag. A three-hundred-thousand-dollar bag, without blinking an eye, all to make my sister happy, to earn their approval, to get just one single look of pride from them. And what did I get in return? A public slap in the face, a violent shove, vicious curses, and baseless slander. I sneered, pulling out my phone and taking several sharp photos of the obscene objects on the floor. “We live in a digital age. Every purchase leaves a trail. Since you’re so convinced I bought this to ruin the wedding, let’s just contact the online seller and have them look up who the real recipient is.” 3 In my last life, when I was drowning in online hate, some internet sleuths had actually managed to track down the custom online shop based on a serial number on the bottom of the toy. So for me, finding the seller now was easy. Sure enough, a quick reverse image search led me straight to them. The moment I did, Grant, who had been standing by looking distraught, went pale. He rushed forward, his tone doing a complete one-eighty. “Ava, that’s an invasion of privacy! Stop this nonsense! It’s my fault, okay? It’s all my fault. I didn’t handle things right, and you got hurt.” He then tried to guilt-trip me. “Whatever it is, we’re family. Let’s deal with it behind closed doors! Don’t air our dirty laundry for everyone to see. Please, Ava, I’m begging you. For your sister’s sake, let’s give her some dignity.” I coldly shook off his hand as he tried to grab my arm and projected my phone screen onto the main display. “My dear brother-in-law, suddenly we’re ‘family’? A minute ago, when you were implying I was trying to seduce you, you didn’t seem so concerned about keeping things private.” I flashed a brittle smile. “Someone went to a lot of trouble to ruin my reputation today, but I have nothing to hide. Since some people refuse to believe me, let’s find out the truth right here, right now, in front of everyone!” “You!” “What’s the matter, Grant? Are you… nervous?” Before he could react, I hit the call button. A moment later, a professional customer service voice echoed through the banquet hall. “Hello, thank you for calling. How can I help you today?” I explained the situation, and the representative on the other end quickly pulled up the order information. Unfortunately… it had nothing to do with Grant. “Are you sure the recipient’s last name is Reed, and the phone number ends in 8977?” “Yes, ma’am. That’s all the information I’m authorized to provide.” After I hung up, Grant visibly relaxed. “See, Ava? Stop making a big deal out of nothing. Your gift must have been swapped by this Ms. Reed person. Your sister and I will check the guest list later. Now, can you please drop it? We have a wedding to finish.” I laughed, a harsh, humorless sound. “A three-hundred-thousand-dollar gift just vanishes, and you call that ‘making a big deal’? It seems my reputation is worth about as much as that bag in your eyes—absolutely nothing.” “Will you ever let it go?” My mother grabbed my arm, yanking me off balance. “So we misunderstood you for a minute, what’s the big deal? We get it, you’re rich, you bought your sister a lavish gift! Someone else proved the nasty thing wasn’t from you, so that should be the end of it! Are you really going to hold up your sister’s entire wedding over this?” “Mom! That was three hundred thousand dollars…” Even Brooke was getting antsy. Just then, the MC on stage, Lorna, spoke up. “Bride and groom, we still have a long schedule ahead, and we’re running on a very tight timeline.” “If we continue to be delayed by this matter, it could seriously affect the rest of the ceremony. We might have to cut some parts of the program if we run out of time. What would you like to do?” Brooke had hired Lorna specifically because she was a woman known for running elegant, modern weddings without any awkward, old-fashioned rituals, focusing entirely on the couple’s experience. Just as expected, Lorna’s words made Brooke hesitate. Lorna was a top-tier MC, and her schedule had to be booked a year and a half in advance. She was incredibly hard to get. After a moment of deliberation, Brooke’s desire for a perfect wedding won out. She gritted her teeth and told Lorna to continue with the ceremony. With my parents watching me like hawks, I was unable to investigate any further. Sitting back at my table, my mind was a whirlwind of thoughts. Something wasn’t right. Based on Grant’s reaction, he was definitely involved in the gift swap. But the name and address from the seller didn’t match him at all. So who bought the sex toy? Who was trying to frame me? Soon, the wedding ceremony drew to a close. The MC and the rest of the wedding planning team were packing up to head to their next event, and my parents sent me to see them off. After a few polite goodbyes, I was about to head back into the hall when the hotel receptionist called out to me. “Ma’am, your party left something in storage here!” I was about to explain that I wasn’t with the wedding team when she started reading off the information. “The item was left under the name Ms. Reed, phone number ending in 8977. Is that correct?” A jolt went through me. I whipped my head around. “What did you just say?!”

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Two years into the divorce proceedings, I ran into Richard at our high school reunion. My first love was standing outside the venue’s restrooms, blocking my path. “Still dragging things out with Marcel?” he asked. “If you don’t mind, let me represent you.” I smiled and nodded, not offering a refusal. Richard was undeniably brilliant. He managed to secure half of Marcel’s assets for me. But on the day we were supposed to sign the final papers, I overheard their conversation through the cracked office door. “You’re quite the genius, Richard. Using your position as her attorney to steal evidence and hide assets,” Marcel’s tone dripped with mockery. “Do you think Kristen is going to lose her mind when she finds out I’m actually on your side, and that this fifty percent is just the tip of the iceberg?” Richard’s voice was like ice. “I am not on your side.” “I am doing all of this for Maya’s happiness. If you ever dare to hurt her, I will make you pay ten times over!” Maya. Maya Ford. The secretary Marcel had been having an affair with. My knuckles turned white as I gripped the door handle, my chest aching as if a knife had been twisted into it. All those comments at the reunion about how perfect we looked together, all the nostalgic regret over our past… it was all a cruel joke. 1 Taking a deep breath, I pushed the door open and walked in. Both men turned to look at me simultaneously, not a trace of guilt on their faces. “Kristen, sit over here.” Richard spoke first, waving me over. With their conversation still echoing in my ears, I tightened my grip on my purse strap and walked toward him. Richard pulled out a handkerchief, thoughtfully wiping a few raindrops off my jacket. “I should have picked you up, but my car broke down halfway there. Did you get caught in the storm?” I shook my head. He explained himself while pulling out a chair for me. During our four years in college, Richard had taken care of me with this exact same meticulous devotion. In the six months since we reconnected over this lawsuit, his attention had only intensified. Our mutual friends constantly teased him. “Richard, you’re going to spoil her rotten.” “This is true love, waiting for her before the ink is even dry on the divorce.” Others laughed at him, calling him a sucker. They brought up the ancient history of our messy breakup, saying Richard was a lapdog who had forgotten the sting of the whip. But Richard ignored them all. He would cover my ears. “I already lost you once. I am absolutely not letting you slip away a second time.” I actually thought he was still holding onto our past. I thought he genuinely wanted to try again. Now I realized how incredibly pathetic and delusional I had been. The warmth in his eyes was nothing but a custom-made honey trap. Looking at the chair he pulled out, I set my purse down and leaned slightly toward him. “Walk me through the finalized documents.” Richard nodded, highlighting the key points on the pages, his signature clean, crisp cologne washing over me as he leaned in. I tilted my head, listening intently, occasionally leaning close to whisper something with a smile. Marcel slouched lazily in his chair, his eyes narrowed, a glint of sharp scrutiny in his gaze. “Your legal representation comes with quite the premium service package, Richard.” “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were sleeping with my soon-to-be ex-wife!” Marcel’s sarcastic remarks cut through the air. He was clearly pissed. The two of us looked entirely too intimate. Even the brief exchanges of eye contact between Richard and me were getting under his skin. No one responded. I just quietly looked at the two men sitting across from and beside me. “I’m sorry I’m late.” A sweet voice drifted in as the heavy mahogany door swung open. It was Maya. This time, the two men didn’t just turn their heads; they both stood up. “Maya, what are you doing here?” Marcel quickly walked over to her, wrapping his arm around her waist without a shred of hesitation. In my peripheral vision, I saw Richard’s fists clench tight. “I was worried about you…” “And this is a huge moment in your life. I felt like I needed to be here with you.” Halfway through her sentence, Maya turned her gaze to me. I smirked, looking down to play with my wedding ring, pretending I hadn’t noticed her at all. “Who is this pathetic, star-crossed lover act for? Do you think you’re the last woman who’s going to end up in Marcel’s bed?” The moment the words left my mouth, Marcel’s eyes darkened, the smug smile completely vanishing from his face. “Kristen, there’s no need to be so incredibly vicious.” “I know you can’t bear the thought of divorcing me, which is why you’ve dragged this lawsuit out for two years. What, getting cold feet at the finish line?” I let out a cold, sharp laugh, raising my eyes to look at the perfectly victimized expression on Maya’s face. “I won’t be having any regrets today.” “Marcel, didn’t you always obsess over my first love? Well, here he is.” I gestured to Richard, who was sitting just one seat away from me. 2 “You’re Kristen’s first love?” “The one she dated for four years? The one she had that dramatic, life-shattering breakup with?” Marcel fired off the questions rapidly, his gaze fixed on Richard, suddenly shifting. His tone was laced with a deep, bitter resentment. Richard stiffened, shooting me a look of pure confusion. I shrugged and smiled. “We’ve been married for five years, and he has always been a thorn in your side. But I know how to keep a secret. You dug around for five years and found absolutely nothing.” Richard blinked, his eyes darting briefly toward Maya before he finally nodded. “A pleasure, Marcel.” Marcel’s face turned an ugly shade of purple, his eyes darting frantically between Richard and me. “Stop staring. You’re not going to figure it out by glaring at us.” “Just sign the papers so your true love doesn’t have to keep playing the role of the dirty little secret.” I leaned over, grabbed the thick stack of documents from Richard, and signed my name on every single line without hesitation. This divorce had been dragging on for two years. We had reached the mediation stage at least three or four times. And every single time, right at the precipice, I backed out. It wasn’t because I loved Marcel. It was because I refused to lose to a woman like Maya. The first time I saw Maya was in Marcel’s office. She was fresh out of college, looking for a job. A high ponytail, a flannel shirt, canvas sneakers—she radiated a raw, unpolished youthfulness. The second I laid eyes on her, I thought of Richard. When Richard was a freshman, he had that exact same earnest, unrefined look, as if he hadn’t quite figured out how to exist in a city like New York. But I had fallen hopelessly, irrationally in love with him. I chased him relentlessly for three months. Finally, he agreed, his face dark with frustration. “Kristen, you’re like a piece of gum stuck to my shoe. It’s so annoying.” “One year, Kristen. We date for exactly one year, and then we break up.” We ended up dating for four years. I was the one who initiated the breakup, right before graduation, the day before his birthday. Richard knelt in the pouring rain outside my dorm, begging me for an entire night. I stayed hidden in my room, never taking a single step downstairs. The whole campus called me heartless. They said Richard had been played by a rich girl and tossed aside when she got bored. After we broke up, I never saw him again. So when I saw Maya, my heart inexplicably softened. Marcel flipped through the resumes in front of me, his finger stopping on Maya’s. “You’ve seen this one. HR says she’s solid, but I think she looks too incredibly plain. I’m looking for an executive assistant, not a charity case.” Marcel’s mouth was brutal. He grew up obsessed with flashy, superficial things. He only liked beautiful people. Like me. He had liked me since we were kids. Mostly because I was beautiful, and because I completely ignored him. That was exactly why, when my family’s company collapsed and everyone else ran for the hills, Marcel stepped up and offered to marry me. I put my hand over Marcel’s, stopping him from flipping to the next page. “Hire her. I think she’s great.” “She looks genuine, and her skills are solid. It’s not a bad idea to mold someone from the ground up.” To make me happy, Marcel hired Maya. Back then, the novelty of our marriage hadn’t worn off for Marcel. When he wasn’t at the office, he was practically glued to my side. After every time we slept together, he would relentlessly interrogate me. “What was your college boyfriend’s name?” “How far did you guys go? Did he ever bring you here?” “Am I better in bed, or was he?” “Kristen, do you still love him?” Marcel was unbelievably immature. From the day we eloped, a seed of insecurity had been planted deep in his mind. Everything he saw reminded him of Richard; everything he did was a competition with a ghost. But I never said a word about him. The next time I saw Maya, she was wearing a designer tweed suit, sitting just outside Marcel’s private office. The heavy makeup made her look older, sophisticated, and striking. You couldn’t help but look twice. “Miss Davis.” “Mr. Stark is still in a meeting. You’ll have to wait out here.” In this entire building, everyone called me Mrs. Stark. She was the only one who called me Miss Davis. In the entire executive suite, no one would ever dare block my path. She was the only one who told me to take a seat and wait. I stared at the faint red marks on her neck and the incredibly expensive necklace resting against her collarbone. “You must be exceptionally good at your job, Maya.” “You’ve been at Stark Corp for less than six months, and you’re already buying six-figure jewelry.” 3 “It was a gift.” Maya’s delicate face instantly flushed crimson. In that exact moment, I knew she was sleeping with Marcel. That necklace was something I had bought to hit a purchase quota for a Birkin bag. It had been sitting untouched in my jewelry box for months. A few days ago, Marcel had asked me for it. I assumed he was giving it to a client’s wife. He gave it to Maya. Since we got married, Marcel hadn’t returned to his old playboy ways. He had actually stayed faithfully by my side for two years. Doing the math, I suppose his patience had simply run out. A man like him was never going to settle down for anyone. This marriage was nothing more than a strategic alliance for me, a tool to keep my family’s legacy from entirely collapsing. So I wasn’t heartbroken. My only concern was how to maintain this hollow marriage, or, failing that, how to extract as much of the Stark fortune as possible in the divorce. I just hadn’t expected the other woman to be Maya, the girl he initially couldn’t stand. And unfortunately for me, Maya wasn’t content playing the quiet mistress. While she was texting me graphic photos and videos of them together, I was navigating a Stark family dinner, flawlessly playing the perfect wife. I was expertly deflecting his parents’ demands for a grandchild while simultaneously figuring out how to handle her. [Miss Davis, I’m pregnant with Marcel’s baby.] [Marcel and I are truly in love. Please, let him go.] I ignored the messages. I pretended none of it was happening. But I never expected Marcel to come home blackout drunk that night and confess everything. “Maya is pregnant. The baby is mine.” “I want her to have it.” I stared blankly at Marcel sitting across from me. My mouth opened and closed, my hand instinctively resting over my own stomach, giving a violent twitch. “Are you absolutely sure?” “I am. I’m going to make room for her.” Marcel looked at me in pure disbelief. Perhaps he hadn’t expected me to agree so easily. But the brief flash of joy vanished instantly. He grabbed my wrist, his voice rising in an angry accusation. “Kristen, have you ever actually loved me?” “Are you still hung up on that damn college boyfriend?!” “I have an affair, ask for a divorce, and tell you I’m moving my pregnant mistress into this house, and you don’t even care!” I watched Marcel throw his tantrum. I watched him smash an entire cabinet of expensive liquor. I let him pin me down and take whatever he wanted from me, without a single ounce of resistance. “Kristen, could you just… even a little bit. Could you just love me a little bit?” I didn’t say a word. After that, Marcel rarely came home. He started bringing Maya to high-profile events. When I wasn’t there, Marcel would intercept drinks for her, hold her umbrella, and drive her to and from the office. They played the perfect, deeply-in-love couple. The tabloids went wild. Every single time, I stepped in, paying exorbitant sums to kill the stories and scrub the internet. I sat comfortably on my throne as Mrs. Stark, cleaning up Marcel’s messes. But Maya couldn’t handle the waiting. Or rather, her baby couldn’t wait. “Miss Davis, when are you going to agree to the divorce?” “I refuse to let my child be born a bastard.” I stirred my coffee, finding the whole situation almost tragically funny. “Getting a kid a birth certificate is incredibly easy. Marcel can make one phone call.” “You are way too naive, Maya. Dissolving a high-society marriage involves an immense amount of capital and corporate interests. It isn’t that simple.” “Think about it. Do you really believe the Stark family is going to welcome a mistress and an illegitimate child through the front door?” “Furthermore, I’m not the one refusing to divorce. Your precious Marcel is the one dragging his feet.” Maybe my words cut a little too close to the bone. That very night, Maya attempted suicide. She lost the baby. Marcel rushed home, his eyes bloodshot with rage. He pinned me to the wall by my throat, nearly choking the life out of me. “Kristen, who told you to go see her!” “Do you have any idea she almost died?! Because of your vicious little speech, she lost our child!” “Do you want a divorce that badly, Kristen?” “Fine! We’ll get a divorce!” 4 I found out later that Maya slitting her wrists to force the divorce was what actually caused the miscarriage. She told Marcel I had tracked her down and threatened her. Her single tearful sentence, “I love you so much,” locked down Marcel’s heart. Her other sentence, “Kristen never loved you,” completely severed the final thread between Marcel and me. “Maya was never actually pregnant.” “She’s just a gold digger trying to secure the bag. She staged the whole tragedy.” “Mrs. Stark is way too forgiving. If it were me, I’d drag the divorce out for years just to make that cheating bastard and his mistress absolutely miserable!” When those rumors finally reached my ears, my hand froze right as I was about to sign the divorce papers. “I’m not signing this.” “Marcel, you are at fault here. I want you to leave this marriage with absolutely nothing.” And so, the legal battle dragged on for two agonizing years. It dragged on so long that Richard eventually walked back into my life. Honestly, I didn’t care how much of the Stark money I walked away with. I just wanted to make Maya’s life a living hell. But Richard’s sudden reappearance, the elaborate trap he set… it suddenly made the whole thing feel incredibly tedious and exhausting. I didn’t even have the energy to care about their secret relationship anymore. “Just sign it.” I pushed the documents across the table toward Marcel. But Marcel just sat there, his pen hovering over the paper. Maya watched him with frantic anxiety, looking as if she wanted to snatch the pen and sign it for him. “Marcel, I have an OBGYN appointment this afternoon,” Maya murmured, keeping her head bowed, her voice soft and coaxing. She was pregnant again. Marcel’s pen stopped entirely. He couldn’t bring himself to press the ink to the page. After a long, suffocating silence, he tossed the pen aside. “We’re not signing this today.” “I’ll take you to the doctor.” Maya hadn’t realized her little nudge would completely derail the plan. She grabbed his arm. “I’m not in a rush! Let’s just finish the paperwork first.” Marcel froze, shooting a dark glare at me and Richard. “I’m not signing it.” “Kristen, you’re just waiting for this divorce so you can run back to him, aren’t you?” “Let me tell you something. Keep dreaming!” Marcel turned on his heel and stormed out of the conference room without a backward glance. Maya shot Richard a frantic, tear-filled look before chasing after him. Before I could even process what had happened, Richard rushed out after them. “I’ll go find out what he’s thinking.” The sheer panic on his face looked like it was for my benefit, but I knew the truth. He was worried about Maya. Sure enough, just around the corner, Maya was buried in Richard’s chest, sobbing. “Richard, what do I do?” “What am I supposed to do now?…” Richard gently rubbed her back, whispering soothingly before asking, “You told me Kristen was the one refusing to finalize the divorce, but based on what just happened, it’s way more complicated than that.” “You need to find the right moment to figure out exactly what Marcel’s end game is.” “Maya, you know I’ve got you.” “As long as it gets you the life you want, I will handle everything.” …

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1 When I opened my eyes, I found myself right back in the chaotic moments before my wedding. Julian and his identical twin brother, Perry, were standing directly in front of me, both dressed in the exact same bespoke tuxedo, their hair styled identically. “Chloe, can you tell which one of us is me?” Julian asked, his voice teasing. In my previous life, I had picked Julian out instantly. He had smiled, taken my hand, and walked me down the aisle, vowing in front of all our family and friends that he would love me forever. After the wedding, he treated me like absolute royalty. I honestly believed I had found true happiness. That is, until Monica, a girl from Julian’s college, died when her cruise ship was hit by a freak tsunami. Everything shattered. He lost his mind. He dragged me to the roof of a high-rise and threw me off, screaming like a madman, “If you had just picked the wrong brother at the wedding, I could have gone with Monica to travel the world! She wouldn’t be dead!” “Chloe, why did you have to recognize me that day!” His voice was choked with pure despair and venomous resentment. This time, without a single second of hesitation, I threw myself directly into Perry’s arms, my voice sickeningly sweet. “How could I ever not recognize you!” I heard Julian let out a quiet sigh of relief beside us. But he didn’t notice how tightly Perry’s arms wrapped around my waist, nor did he see the raw, burning ambition hidden deep in his twin’s eyes. … “You guessed right.” Perry’s eyes darkened instantly, his grip on my waist tightening possessively. “Chloe, the ceremony is starting soon,” Julian urged from the sidelines. “You two head out first. I need to change out of these clothes,” Julian added, shooting a triumphant, conspiratorial look at his brother. I pretended not to notice a thing, linking my arm through Perry’s and stepping out of the bridal suite. The moment we pushed the door open, we practically bumped right into Monica. Her gaze swept past me and locked onto Perry’s face. After a few seconds of intense scrutiny, a flicker of sheer, unmistakable glee danced in her eyes. “Chloe, wishing you and Julian a very happy marriage!” She placed heavy, deliberate emphasis on “Julian,” her congratulations laced with thick, biting mockery. Monica was sneering at me for picking the wrong groom. In my previous life, she had run away from the suite in tears. When I asked about it, Julian brushed it off, claiming Monica was just emotionally unstable due to some career setbacks. I trusted him implicitly. I didn’t give it a second thought. It wasn’t until Julian hurled me off that building that I finally learned the truth. He and Monica had made a sick bet. If I failed to pick him out on our wedding day, he would assume Perry’s identity and spend the next three months traveling the world with Monica, a grand romantic gesture to make up for the fact that they couldn’t be together permanently. After the three months were up, he planned to switch back with Perry and pretend absolutely nothing had happened. In this life, I decided to give them exactly what they wanted. I looked at the undisguised triumph in Monica’s eyes and flashed her a blinding, radiant smile. “And I wish you everything you’ve ever wanted.” Without giving her a chance to process that, I pulled Perry toward the grand ballroom. The orchestral music swelled, signaling the start of the ceremony. My name and Julian’s were emblazoned in massive gold letters across the screens behind the altar. But Julian and Monica were sitting in the dimly lit audience, leaning against each other intimately as if no one else was in the room. It was as if this wedding had absolutely nothing to do with him. The ceremony flowed flawlessly until the final, crucial moment. The officiant smiled warmly at the crowd. “Now, the bride and groom may embrace and share their first kiss.” I leaned into Perry’s chest and tilted my head, my eyes sweeping over the crowd. A memory struck me. In my past life, when Julian pulled me in for this embrace, he had secretly kissed my earlobe and whispered, “Chloe, I finally get to marry you.” Right now, he was in the audience, holding another woman. When my gaze locked onto his, Julian instinctively dropped Monica’s hand. But as his eyes shifted to the man standing beside me, the reality that they had swapped identities finally hit him. He rubbed his nose, looking suddenly guilty and uncomfortable. Monica stared down at her empty hand, her expression turning incredibly dark. Suddenly, she stood up and shouted toward the stage. “A hug is so boring! Let’s see a real kiss from the newlyweds!” Her outburst ignited the crowd. The guests immediately started cheering and chanting. “Kiss! Kiss!” “You’re married now, don’t be shy!” Julian stopped breathing. He shot to his feet, violently yanking Monica back down into her chair, and roared at the crowd. “They don’t like PDA! Stop pressuring them!” A month ago, when going over the itinerary with the planner, Julian had specifically insisted on skipping the kiss. Looking back, he had already been laying the groundwork for Perry to take his place at the altar. Thinking of this, I reached up, grabbed Perry by his silk tie, pulled him down, and stood on my tiptoes. I kissed him deeply. “Chloe!” 2 Julian violently kicked his chair back, vaulting himself onto the stage in one fluid motion. Under the shocked gasps of hundreds of guests, he practically tore me away from Perry, screaming in my face. “Chloe! Have you lost your mind?! How could you kiss him?!” I blinked at him, the picture of wounded innocence. “I’m kissing my own husband at my own wedding. How is that crazy? And why are you so angry about it?” Perry grabbed my hand, smoothly pulling me behind his broad back. “‘Perry,’ I know it’s hard to watch your brother get married, but Chloe is your sister-in-law now. Show some respect.” As he spoke, he casually swiped his thumb across his lower lip, wiping away a smear of my lipstick, looking as if he were savoring the taste. Julian’s eyes went completely bloodshot with rage. “You need to remember who…” Before he could finish his threat, Monica rushed onto the stage and forcefully grabbed his arm. “Stop it!” She leaned close to his ear, hissing through her teeth. “Julian, whatever your problem is, deal with it backstage! Can’t you see the press and the entire city are watching you?!” Julian finally looked out at the audience. Hundreds of pairs of eyes were glued to him. The media crews hired by Sterling Corporation had every camera lens zoomed in on his face. The sheer stupidity and impulsiveness of his actions finally dawned on him. If the press found out that the heir to the Sterling empire had forced his twin brother to stand in for his political marriage to the Davis family, the resulting scandal would obliterate the company’s stock. Seeing Julian finally regain some sanity, Monica quickly stepped to the microphone to run damage control. “I apologize, everyone! ‘Perry’ is just overwhelmed with emotion seeing his brother tie the knot. He had a bit too much champagne to celebrate.” “Please, enjoy the reception! Don’t mind this little brotherly spat.” The MC, a seasoned professional, immediately seized the opportunity to defuse the tension. “It seems the Sterling brothers share an incredibly deep bond! Moving on, let’s welcome the phenomenal pop star, Lexi, to sing a special blessing for our beautiful newlyweds!” Before Julian stepped off the stage, he shot Perry a look of pure, venomous hatred. “You’re dead, kid. Just wait.” Perry maintained his calm, polite smile, but his eyes were absolute glaciers. While the grand ballroom outside was filled with music and laughter, the private bridal suite was a warzone. Julian hurled his crystal champagne flute directly at Perry’s feet. A shard of shattered glass bounced up, slicing a thin red line across Perry’s cheek. “Perry! I told you to stand in for the ceremony! I didn’t tell you to actually act like her husband!” “Chloe doesn’t know the truth, but you damn well do!” “When she kissed you, why didn’t you push her away?! You were actually enjoying it, weren’t you?!” Perry slowly raised a hand, wiping the drop of blood from his cheek. “Push her away? And have tomorrow’s headlines scream that the Sterling heir is disgusted by the Davis family bride?” “Or maybe you’d prefer ‘Sterling Heir Publicly Rejects Arranged Marriage at the Altar’?” Julian stared at the cold mockery in his brother’s eyes. He lunged forward, grabbing Perry by the lapels of his tuxedo, his voice shaking with suppressed fury. “Don’t think I don’t know exactly what game you’re playing!” “I should have known you didn’t agree to help me and Monica out of the goodness of your heart. You never got over Chloe!” “But don’t delude yourself into thinking you can swoop in and steal her!” He slowly released his grip, his gaze turning to absolute ice. “I’ve transferred you to the European tech acquisition project. It lasts exactly three months. Your flight leaves tonight.” “In three months, everything resets.” “I am the heir to the Sterling empire, and the only man marrying Chloe is me.” I stood right outside the door, hearing every single word. But Julian had made one massive miscalculation. Whoever I married became the heir to the Sterling empire. 3 Years ago, the Sterling patriarch, Julian and Perry’s grandfather, had allowed me to choose which of his grandsons I wanted to marry. The three of us had practically grown up together. I knew perfectly well that both brothers were in love with me. The event that finally pushed me to choose Julian was a terrifying accident. When I was eighteen, I was kidnapped by a ruthless corporate rival of my father’s. Right as the kidnapper raised a knife to execute me, Julian burst in, took the blade directly into his own stomach, and saved my life. The day he was discharged from the hospital, I told the Sterling patriarch that my choice was Julian. That was the exact day our engagement was announced, and simultaneously, the day Julian was officially named the heir to the Sterling empire. He saved my life, and in my past life, I repaid that debt with my own blood. In this life, our ledger is completely clean. Hearing footsteps approaching the door, I quickly turned and walked down the hallway, pulling out my phone. “Set up a meeting for me. I need to speak privately with Chairman Sterling.” That night, Perry didn’t follow his brother’s orders. He didn’t board a flight to Europe. He walked straight into our new marital penthouse. When he opened the door, I was lounging on the velvet sofa, swirling a glass of whiskey. A flicker of surprise crossed my face, but I smoothly stood up, poured a second glass, and offered it to him. “Drink?” Perry took the glass, his intensely heated gaze locked onto the damp residue of whiskey on my lips. “I’m thirsty for something else…” His Adam’s apple bobbed, his voice low and incredibly gravelly. “Chloe.” Before I could react, his shadow fell over me. He cupped my face in his large hands and crashed his lips against mine. Maybe it was the alcohol in my bloodstream. I didn’t push him away. Instead, I leaned into him and kissed him back. My response seemed to obliterate his remaining self-control. He became insatiable. From the living room to the hallway, from the sofa to the mattress. Right up until the point of no return. He suddenly froze, his muscles taut. “Chloe, do you know exactly who I am?” He stroked my cheek, his eyes a storm of agonizingly restrained desire and complex fear. I wrapped my arms around his neck, arched up, and whispered directly against his ear. “Perry.” Before the word fully left my mouth, he crashed down on me. Moonlight spilled through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting tangled shadows against the wall. It wasn’t until the first faint light of dawn breached the horizon that the room finally grew quiet. The next morning, the shrill ringing of Perry’s phone woke me. “The project manager in Europe just called me. You never got on that plane.” “Perry! Where the hell are you right now?!” Julian’s enraged roar echoed through the speaker. Perry pinched the bridge of his nose, his voice lazy and completely unapologetic. “It was my wedding night. Where do you think I was?” His voice was still raspy from the night before. A beat of silence passed before Julian’s voice cracked, rising an entire octave. “Perry! This isn’t funny! Get your ass to the airport right now.” “I’m currently on a yacht, and I’m about to lose signal.” Half-asleep and annoyed, I mumbled into the pillows. “Turn that down, it’s too loud.” Dead silence on the other end of the line. When Julian finally spoke, his voice was visibly shaking. “Was that Chloe?” “Is she in bed with you? Did you sleep with her?!” Before Perry could answer, the call dropped abruptly. Julian had probably lost his satellite connection on the water. With that chaotic wake-up call, my exhaustion evaporated. I felt an intense gaze burning into the top of my head. Remembering the absolute madness of the previous night, a violent flush of heat rushed to my cheeks. Perry finally broke the silence. “Chloe, you knew it was me from the very beginning, didn’t you?” I nodded slowly. “Since we were kids, I have never once confused the two of you.” Even though they shared the exact same face. One look was all it ever took for me to know exactly who was standing in front of me. “Then why did you pick me yesterday?” Looking at the desperate, fragile hope swimming in his dark eyes, I told him the absolute truth. “Because the man I wanted to marry was always you.” Perry froze, blinking as if he couldn’t comprehend the words, before letting out a low, breathy laugh. “So Julian thought he was playing you this whole time, but he was actually the one being played.” But by noon, Julian, who was supposed to be halfway across the ocean on a romantic cruise with Monica, suddenly burst through the penthouse doors. He grabbed Perry by the shoulder and violently shoved him toward the master bathroom. “Perry, take your clothes off right now! We’re switching back!” 4 Seconds later, Monica stormed into the apartment, completely ignoring the protests of the building’s head of security. She walked right past me as if I were invisible, marching to the bathroom door and pounding her fists against the wood. “Today is my birthday! You promised you would spend my birthday with me!” Her voice cracked, thick with dramatic tears. “This was my only wish last year! We had a deal! Just give me this one last day!” Exactly one year ago today, I had been in a minor car accident and was rushed to the ER. Julian told me he was stuck on a business trip overseas and couldn’t get a flight back. The truth was, he was throwing Monica a birthday party. The bathroom door clicked open. Julian stepped out. Seeing the crystalline tears clinging to Monica’s eyelashes, his face softened instantly. He pulled her tightly against his chest. “Stop crying. I promise, I’ll stay.” Monica buried her face in his shirt, her shoulders trembling delicately. “I knew you wouldn’t abandon me.” Perry leaned against the doorframe, watching them with icy indifference, before walking over to me. “Chloe.” It was only then that Julian finally realized I had been sitting on the sofa the entire time, quietly observing the whole spectacle. A flash of genuine conflict crossed his eyes, but he quickly composed himself. “Since today is Monica’s birthday, why don’t the four of us go out and celebrate together?” “‘Julian,’ Monica is just your old college friend, right? You shouldn’t mind.” He shot Perry a look loaded with silent threats. Perry completely ignored him, turning his gaze down to me. “What do you think, honey?” I stood up, looping my arm casually through Perry’s, and shook my head. “We’ll pass. We’re heading to the courthouse this afternoon to file our marriage certificate.” In my past life, Julian had been terrified of upsetting Monica, so he kept making excuses, calling the certificate a “meaningless piece of paper” to delay making our marriage legally binding. But Perry was different. He wanted the ink dry and the legal standing absolute. Julian’s eyes widened in sheer panic. “You’re filing the certificate today?!” His face drained of color, turning a sickly shade of gray. But it only lasted a fraction of a second before he forced a tight, stiff smile. “Well, if you have paperwork to handle, we won’t get in your way.” Right before he left, he subtly slipped his own ID into Perry’s jacket pocket. Making sure I couldn’t hear, he leaned in and hissed at his brother. “I know you’re just mad on Chloe’s behalf, and that audio clip this morning was just to piss me off.” “But I swear I am not betraying Chloe. I just want to be here for Monica as a friend, to help her check this world tour off her bucket list.” “I swear, after today, we switch back permanently. I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to Chloe.” “You file that paperwork for me, and I’ll forget this whole stunt you pulled.” The second the door closed behind them, Perry pulled Julian’s ID out of his pocket and casually dropped it into the trash can. Watching him do it, everything clicked into place. Julian actually believed Perry was just putting on a performance to scare him. He thought he was so incredibly clever. He had absolutely no idea that the woman he was supposed to marry, and the empire he was supposed to inherit, were already gone. At the courthouse, the paperwork was processed with lightning speed. Forms filled. Signatures signed. Photos submitted. The heavy steel stamp slammed down. Two small red booklets were handed to us. Under the names of the legally bound couple, it read: Chloe Davis and Perry Sterling. Right on cue, a text from Julian lit up Perry’s screen. “Did you get the certificate done?” “Send me a picture of it right now.” “You do this for me, and when I officially take over the Sterling empire, I’ll make you a full partner. We’ll run it together.” Perry snapped two photos of the open certificate and hit send. A second later. Julian’s phone call ripped through the silence of the car.

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1 I was escorting a high-value prisoner on a commercial flight when a flight attendant began openly flirting with the man next to me. I shot her a warning look and quietly asked her to move us to a secluded pair of seats. She rolled her eyes. “Do you own this airline? What’s the problem with me talking to this gorgeous guy? Are you jealous or just painfully single?” Her boldness left me speechless. I called for the chief attendant, but before help arrived, she broke into dramatic tears, telling everyone I was bullying her. Sympathetic and accusing eyes turned toward me. I could not explain aloud that the “gorgeous guy” was a notorious serial killer on death row. Just as the tension peaked, the prisoner made his move. He seized her in a chokehold and yelled for the pilot to turn the plane around. Since you’re so eager to please a man, now is your chance. … My name is Renee. I am a homicide detective. I spent three grueling months deep undercover just to track down Silas, a serial killer who had terrorized the entire country. It took everything I had to finally slap the cuffs on him. Following strict orders from the top brass, I was transporting him back to the state precinct via a commercial flight. Before boarding, my captain emphasized one rule above all else. Total secrecy. If the passengers found out who Silas was, it would trigger a mid-air panic. I kept my badge tucked away and draped a thick jacket over the steel cuffs binding Silas to my wrist. I whispered a harsh warning for him to behave, my eyes scanning every single face in the terminal. I couldn’t afford a single second of distraction. Shortly after the plane leveled out, a fresh-faced intern flight attendant pushed her beverage cart down the aisle. The moment her eyes landed on Silas, they stuck to him like glue. She purposefully slowed her pace, completely invading my personal space as she leaned over me to get closer to him. Her voice dripped with an artificial, sugary sweetness. “Hey handsome, what can I get you? Water, coffee, or maybe some juice?” Silas slowly looked up at her. A chilling smirk played at the corner of his mouth. My stomach dropped. I instantly answered for him. “No thank you. He doesn’t need anything. We are trying to rest, so please do not disturb us.” The intern acted like I was invisible. She shot me a look of pure disgust before leaning even closer to Silas. “Are you feeling okay, handsome? Do you need me to grab you some medicine?” I forced down the rising anger in my chest and deepened my voice, heavily stressing my next words. “I said we do not need anything. We want to rest. Do you not understand English?” I glanced around the half-empty cabin. “Also, I need you to move us to the back row. Keep us as far away from the other passengers as possible. I don’t like the noise.” That was apparently the wrong thing to say. The girl flared up like a cat backed into a corner. She slammed her plastic cup onto my tray table. Water splashed directly onto my shirt, but she didn’t offer a shred of an apology. “Excuse me, lady, but I was talking to him. Did I ask you?” “Did your daddy build this airplane? You think you can just demand seat changes? Why don’t you go sit on the wings then?” My eyebrows knitted together. I kept my voice as level as humanly possible. “We are traveling together. I am speaking for him. He isn’t eating or drinking. Please stop hovering.” I flicked my eyes downward, practically begging her to notice the silver handcuffs hidden beneath the coat. She was completely oblivious. Instead, she raised her voice, dripping with pure arrogance. “Drop the act, lady! You must be seriously starved for male attention if you’re throwing a tantrum just because I said hi to a hot guy!” Her loud, piercing tone drew the attention of half the cabin. Heads swiveled in our direction. “Seats on this flight are assigned. You think you’re some kind of royalty?” My eyes widened. I genuinely could not fathom how a supposedly trained professional was acting like a high school mean girl. Having said her piece, she turned back to Silas, her voice suddenly morphing into a whiny pout. “Sir, look at her. I was just trying to offer you good customer service, and she’s attacking me.” “If she tries to file a complaint against me after we land, you have to promise to defend me, okay?” Silas gave me a dark, amused look before speaking in a low, slow drawl. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. A pretty girl like you doesn’t deserve to be in trouble.” The intern blushed furiously, staring at her feet. She immediately dug a notepad out of her apron, scribbled down her number, and slid it toward him. “Here. My name is Brittany. Add me on Insta.” I took a massive breath, grinding my teeth together so hard my jaw ached. “I said, change our seats!” 2 Brittany jutted her chin out, looking completely untouchable. “And I said no! Even if you drop dead today, you’re dying in that exact seat!” My hands began to shake with suppressed fury. I couldn’t hold it back anymore. “Go get your Chief Flight Attendant right now! I want to know if this is the standard of professionalism Trans-Global Airlines accepts!” Brittany scoffed loudly. “God, women are so pathetic. Always letting jealousy ruin everything and instantly crying to the manager.” “Call her! You think I’m scared of you?” Whispers broke out across the cabin. A fiery rage spiked in my chest. I had been a detective for eight years. I had personally taken down some of the most vicious predators to ever walk the earth. But I had never met someone so willfully, painfully stupid. She had absolutely no idea that the gorgeous guy she was throwing herself at was a monster with hands soaked in innocent blood. The Chief Flight Attendant hurried over shortly after. She put on a polite, practiced smile. “Ma’am, is there a problem I can assist you with?” Before I could even open my mouth to explain, Brittany stepped forward and practically threw herself at the older woman. “Aunt Helen!” Then she buried her face in her hands and started sobbing hysterically, making sure every single passenger in the cabin was watching her performance. “Aunt Helen, this woman is bullying me! I was just doing my job, and she started screaming at me out of nowhere! She’s demanding a seat upgrade and threatening to get me fired!” She deliberately shouted the words bullying and fired, playing the role of a frail, helpless victim to absolute perfection. The passengers in the front rows swallowed the bait instantly. People started standing up, craning their necks to look. A few even pulled out their phones to record me, their voices laced with pity for the weeping intern. A middle-aged man in a polo shirt pointed a thick finger at me. “Hey lady, you need to back off! The poor kid is just an intern doing her job. What kind of monster threatens a young girl’s livelihood?” His wife nodded vigorously, glaring at me with utter contempt. “Exactly. Dressed so nice but acting like pure trash. That girl is someone’s daughter. You’ll have kids of your own someday, you know! Have some compassion!” “Some hags just can’t stand seeing a young, pretty face. It’s pure, bitter jealousy.” “Don’t worry, sweetie! If she tries to report you, we will all write to the airline and defend you!” A businesswoman across the aisle violently yanked off her sleep mask and shot me a lethal glare. “Can you shut up? Your life must be incredibly sad and pathetic if you get off on harassing service workers.” The wave of baseless accusations made my blood boil. “Are you all blind? Or just completely brain-dead?” “She is completely twisting the truth! I politely told her multiple times to leave us alone, and she refused to stop harassing us. All I did was ask for a seat change, and she flips the script and plays the victim!” Seeing the crowd rally behind her, Brittany cranked up the waterworks. She choked out her words through heavy sobs. “Thank you, everyone. Thank you for seeing the truth. I’m just trying to do my job, and she’s targeting me!” She then actually buckled her knees, pretending she was about to drop to the floor. “Ma’am, I’ll take the blame! I’m so sorry! Please, I’m begging you, don’t get me fired! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” A chorus of disgusted clicks and sighs echoed through the plane. “Flight attendants are human beings too. Look at how terrified the poor thing is.” “This lady is out of her mind. Does she think she owns the sky?” Helen’s polite mask vanished instantly. She yanked Brittany up, shielding the girl behind her own body, and stared at me with eyes like shards of ice. 3 “Ma’am, I suggest you watch your tone. Service workers are not beneath you.” “Professionally speaking, she is my subordinate, and checking on passengers is her literal job description. She did nothing wrong.” “Personally speaking, I am her aunt. I helped raise her. I know her character infinitely better than some bitter stranger.” She paused, making sure her voice carried to the back rows. “It is 2026. As a fellow woman, why are you tearing down another girl just to get a man’s attention? You’re a textbook pick-me. Maybe log off the internet and stop projecting your insecurities onto innocent women!” “A pick-me? Tearing down women?” I genuinely let out a dry, humorless laugh. The sheer absurdity of the situation had pushed me past the point of anger. I looked her dead in the eye. “You have a lot of nerve. You didn’t even bother to ask for my side of the story. You blindly took your niece’s word for it. Isn’t that the exact same thing you’re accusing me of?” “She’s an intern, so fine, I’ll write off her stupidity. But you are the Chief Flight Attendant. You are in charge of this cabin. Did you not read the pre-flight briefing regarding a high-risk VIP on board? Do you have any idea how much trouble you are in if you compromise my operation?” The whispers grew louder, tinged with heavy sarcasm. “Oh please, a VIP? Who does she think she is? If she was important, she’d be in first class.” “Empty cans rattle the loudest. Just listen to her.” “This is hilarious. It’s like she’s never been on a plane before. The secondhand embarrassment is killing me.” Hiding behind her aunt, Brittany flashed me a smug, victorious smirk, her eyes practically dancing with mockery. Helen faltered for a fraction of a second before her face hardened again. “Don’t you dare try to intimidate me with some fake VIP status. I have the manifest for every single person on this aircraft, including you! If you don’t want me calling your employer when we land, I suggest you sit down and shut your mouth. One more word, and I’m calling the Air Marshal.” We were locked in a stalemate. My fingertips brushed against the cold leather of my police badge inside my pocket. Right at that moment, another flight attendant rushed out from the back galley and grabbed Helen’s shoulder. She leaned in, whispering frantically. “Helen, I just double-checked the system. There is a high-level VIP on this flight! The company flagged it with absolute top priority. We cannot mess this up!” The smugness washed right off Helen and Brittany’s faces. The older woman hastily grabbed her company tablet, her fingers swiping frantically across the glowing screen. 4 Brittany leaned over her aunt’s shoulder, her eyes glued to the alert on the screen. Her initial panic faded. Within seconds, a nasty, triumphant grin spread across her lips. Helen locked the tablet and slowly looked back at me, radiating pure arrogance. She let out a sharp laugh. “You’re actually right. There is an incredibly important VIP on this flight. But guess what? It’s not you.” She stood a little taller. “We are hosting Dr. Arthur Harrison, the country’s top cardiovascular surgeon. He’s flying out for an emergency medical summit. Corporate gave us strict orders to ensure his absolute comfort and silence.” The entire cabin erupted into cruel laughter. “Oh man, she actually had me going for a second. Thought she was a senator or something.” “Did you hear the lady? Dr. Harrison needs quiet. What are you gonna do when you stress out a surgeon, huh?” Brittany, utterly drunk on her own perceived victory, rolled her eyes so hard I thought they might get stuck. She turned to Silas, her face softening into faux concern. “Sir, I honestly think the woman next to you is mentally unstable. For your own safety, why don’t I escort you up to first class? We can actually talk without the crazy lady screaming at us.” She reached out, attempting to grab his arm and pull him up. Panic surged through my veins. The last thread of my patience snapped. I didn’t care about being humiliated. But Silas was a lethal weapon. I could not let him leave my side for a single second. I yanked my badge out of my pocket and held it up high. “I am a police detective! I am in the middle of an active operation!” Before I could even blink, Brittany snatched the leather wallet right out of my hand. She didn’t even glance at it. She just ripped the internal ID card cleanly in half. “I could buy a whole box of these fake badges on Temu. If you’re a cop, then I’m the freaking President of the United States!” She puffed out her chest, acting like a superhero saving the day. “Do you realize what you’re doing? Handcuffing him to you is illegal imprisonment! I am saving this man!” With a sudden burst of manic energy, she grabbed the steel chain linking my wrist to Silas’s. She planted her feet and pulled upward with all her body weight. “Let him go! Let him go right now, you absolute psycho!” I lunged forward, desperately trying to pry her fingers off the metal. “Do not touch the cuffs! You are going to get everyone killed! He is a convicted murderer!” We wrestled violently in the cramped aisle. Snap. The metal link shattered. The sudden release of tension threw me completely off balance, sending me crashing hard into the armrest. I threw my head up. Silas’s wrist was completely free. Half of a broken, jagged handcuff dangled uselessly from my own arm. 5 A blur of motion tore past my vision. It was so fast my brain struggled to process it. By the time I scrambled upright, Silas was already standing directly behind Brittany. His massive hands clamped down around her throat. The sheer force was horrifying. Brittany’s face instantly turned a sickening shade of crimson. “Tell the pilot to turn this plane around! Now! Or I snap her neck like a twig!” Brittany’s eyes bugged out of her skull. Her tongue protruded slightly as she gasped for air that wouldn’t come. Her manicured nails clawed frantically at his thick forearms, tearing at his skin, but he didn’t even flinch. He was an unmoving wall of muscle. “I am not going to repeat myself! Turn the plane around or every single one of you dies up here!” Silas’s voice was devoid of any human emotion. The entire aircraft plunged into a terrifying, suffocating silence. The passengers who had been laughing and mocking me seconds ago were now paralyzed, their faces drained of color. A heartbeat later, absolute pandemonium broke out. Screams, sobs, and terrified prayers bounced off the curved ceiling. Passengers scrambled over each other, trying to press themselves as far back into their seats as possible. Helen, the Chief Flight Attendant, looked like she was going to vomit. She cowered behind the Air Marshal, her legs physically giving out beneath her. “Please! Don’t hurt us! We’ll give you whatever you want, just don’t do anything crazy!” Trapped in a suffocating grip, Brittany was drowning in pure terror. She choked out a pathetic, rasping whimper. “P-please… handsome… I’m sorry… cough… let me go…” Even as she was being strangled to death, she pathetically tried to rub her cheek against his arm, acting like her flirtation could save her. She was banking on a miracle. She severely underestimated the monster holding her. Silas didn’t care about her pretty face. His eyes darkened, and his grip tightened until a sickening, wet popping sound echoed from her throat. He leaned in close to her ear, his voice laced with venomous mockery. “I really should be thanking you, sweetheart. I never would have gotten these cuffs off without your help.” Brittany’s complexion shifted from crimson to a bruised purple. Her airways were completely crushed. Tears of agonizing regret spilled down her cheeks. She couldn’t even manage a whisper anymore. I ripped the broken cuff off my wrist and locked my eyes onto him. Every muscle in my body was coiled like a spring. “Silas, there is nowhere to run! Hijacking an aircraft is a federal offense. You let her go, put your hands up, and I swear I will ensure you make it to trial alive!” A decade of intense police training kept my heart rate steady. I couldn’t afford to panic. But Silas wasn’t a street thug. He was a trained, calculated apex predator. Good cops had died trying to put him behind bars. Taking him down inside a metal tube thirty thousand feet in the air, surrounded by civilian hostages, was a nightmare scenario. Silas shot me a sideways glance, letting out a dark chuckle. “I’m already sitting on death row, detective. What are they gonna do? Kill me twice?” “Besides, it’s just you up against me. You really think you can take me down?” His eyes darted around the chaotic cabin, calculating his next move, looking for a better insurance policy. Right at that exact second, Brittany, desperate to save her own skin, managed to wheeze out a single, damning sentence. “I… I know where the doctor is! Take him! He’s worth way more than me!”

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When my father pulled a faded photograph from his closet, I could hardly believe my eyes. The man in the tailored suit had gentle features, but his face looked exactly like mine. It all started with a bank statement I’d printed the day before. The teller slid the paper across the counter, and the numbers froze me: a monthly deposit of fifteen thousand dollars had been wired to an account for exactly eighteen years. The sender was a stranger named Richard Kensington. The first transfer was made the day I was born. I rushed home, threw the statement on the kitchen table, and demanded to know who Richard was. My father stared at the name in heavy silence before finally going to his room and retrieving that hidden photo. The real beginning was the night my mother died. While cleaning her room, I found an old, worn bankbook tucked deep under her mattress. My mother was a laid‑off garment worker living on a nine‑hundred‑dollar monthly pension. Yet the balance in that book was a staggering five hundred thousand. My dad sat in the corner, lighting a cigarette. His hands were steady. He simply said it was the money my mother had saved all her life, and I should keep it. But how could a woman earning nine hundred dollars a month save half a million? That impossible question finally had an answer the moment I saw the photograph. 1 I stared at the picture, my hands shaking uncontrollably. “Dad, what is this?” Arthur Bennett, the man I had called ‘Dad’ for eighteen years, leaned back in his chair. His eyes were rimmed with red. “You aren’t my biological daughter.” Those words felt like a dull, rusted knife. They didn’t slice quickly, but they dug incredibly deep. I opened my mouth, but my throat was completely sealed shut. He took a slow drag of his cigarette and kept going. “When your mother was young, she worked on the floor at the local textile mill. One day, a young executive came in to negotiate a contract. He was handsome, spoke well, and wore expensive clothes. Your mother was the most beautiful girl in that entire factory.” He paused, his Adam’s apple bobbing heavily. “Eventually, she got pregnant with you. That man, Richard Kensington, promised he was going to take her away and give her a proper life.” “And then?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper. “And then his wife found out.” Arthur’s voice suddenly flooded with raw, toxic hatred. “Her name was Victoria Hastings. She came from massive real estate money. She brought six or seven hired thugs, stormed right onto the factory floor, and dragged your mother by her hair across the raw concrete. Right in front of hundreds of people.” My fingernails bit so hard into my palms they almost broke the skin. “The beating wasn’t enough for her. Victoria forced the factory management to fire your mother on the spot, screaming that she was a homewrecker trying to ruin a wealthy family. The factory owners were terrified of the Hastings family. They kicked her to the curb the very next morning.” “Where was Richard?” I asked, my chest tight. Arthur let out a dry, bitter laugh. “He fell to his knees in front of his wife and swore on his life he would never see your mother again.” “He did it right in front of her.” I closed my eyes, feeling a physical ache in my ribs. “Your mother was thrown out onto the street, heavily pregnant. The entire town branded her a slut. Nobody would give her the time of day.” His voice cracked, turning raspy. “I was just a security guard at the front gate back then. Just a simple, quiet guy who knew he’d probably never find a wife. She needed a place to survive, and we just made it work.” I opened my eyes, staring at his worn, calloused hands. “So you knew all along?” “I knew.” “And the fifteen grand a month? You knew about that too?” “Yes. Richard started wiring that money the minute you took your first breath. Your mother refused to spend a single dime of it on herself. When you got sick as a kid, or when your tuition was due, that’s what paid for it. She hoarded every other penny.” “Half a million dollars,” I whispered, my throat burning. Arthur slowly shook his head. “It was way more than that.” “What do you mean?” “Eighteen years, Nora. Fifteen grand a month. Do the math.” Fifteen thousand times twelve, times eighteen. That was over three point two million dollars. But the bankbook under her mattress only held five hundred thousand. There was nearly two point seven million dollars missing. “Where is the rest of the money?” Arthur stood up with a heavy sigh and rummaged through the back of the closet again. He pulled out a thick, brown manila envelope. My mother’s handwriting was on the front. It was shaky and uneven, but I recognized every single stroke. It read. “For Nora. Open immediately.” I tore the flap open. A sleek, embossed business card fell out into my palm. Thomas Wright. Wright and Associates. Senior Partner. On the back of the card, my mother had scribbled a message. “Nora, find him. He will tell you everything. I am so sorry for the life I gave you, but everything I did, I did to protect you.” I clutched the heavy cardstock, my mind spinning. My mother was a laid-off factory worker. She lived on a nine-hundred-dollar pension. How in the world did she know a senior partner at a corporate law firm? What exactly had she been doing behind our backs all these years? 2 I didn’t sleep a single wink that night. I sat on the floor of the tiny bedroom my mother had lived in for eighteen years, tearing through every possession she owned. Her closet held exactly four winter coats. Two of them were visibly patched. Her shoe rack held three pairs of shoes. Two worn-out canvas sneakers and one pair of cheap plastic sandals with the soles rubbed paper-thin. At the very bottom of her lowest dresser drawer, I found a massive stack of newspaper clippings. I pulled them out, examining them one by one under the dim desk lamp. Every single article was about Kensington Global. The oldest clipping was a tiny column from fifteen years ago. “Local Entrepreneur Richard Kensington Awarded State Business Excellence Ribbon.” In the middle of the stack was a half-page feature from seven years ago. “Kensington Global Expands into Healthcare Sector, Investing in Major Metropolitan Hospitals.” The most recent was a full-page glossy spread from two years ago. “Kensington Global Market Cap Breaks Billion-Dollar Mark. The Expanding Empire of Richard Kensington.” My mother had taken a red pen and highlighted critical sections in every single article. The margins were filled with her scribbled notes. I leaned in close to read the shaky handwriting. “2016. Real estate expansion too aggressive. Debt-to-equity ratio critical.” “2019. Brought in strategic investors. How much were his voting rights diluted? Check the annual corporate filings.” “2022. Tristan Kensington joins executive board. Three major development projects operate at a massive loss. Capital flow unaccounted for.” My fingertips traced the faded ink, a sudden chill raising the hairs on my arms. My mother. A woman who didn’t even finish high school. She had been actively analyzing the financial structure and corporate debt of a billion-dollar conglomerate. I grabbed my phone and typed “Richard Kensington” into the search bar. The screen instantly exploded with results. Richard Kensington, 52. Chairman and CEO of Kensington Global. Dominant in real estate, finance, and private healthcare. Estimated personal net worth. Nine hundred million dollars. Nine hundred million. I pulled up my own banking app. Available balance. One hundred and twelve dollars. That was everything I had saved from pulling double shifts at a local coffee shop all summer. I kept scrolling down the search results. A high-definition family portrait loaded on the screen. Richard was standing tall, his arm wrapped around an incredibly glamorous woman. Victoria. Her skin looked flawless, and massive emerald teardrops hung from her ears. Her smile was perfectly practiced, straight off the cover of a luxury magazine. Standing next to them was a young man in his mid-twenties. He was tall, lean, and carried a sharp, arrogant smirk that screamed generational wealth. Tristan Kensington, 26. Executive Vice President of Kensington Global. Columbia MBA graduate. Twenty-six years old. Vice President. Ivy League pedigree. Mansions and supercars. I was eighteen, slinging lattes for twelve bucks an hour. I zoomed in on the watch wrapped around Tristan’s wrist. It was a Patek Philippe Nautilus. Market value was easily a quarter of a million dollars. A quarter of a million. My mother hadn’t even owned a cheap gold chain her entire life. I locked my phone and tossed it onto the bed. I picked up the business card again. Thomas Wright. Wright and Associates. Financial District, 38th Floor. “Mom,” I whispered into the empty, quiet room. “What kind of game were you playing?” Early the next morning, I put on the nicest piece of clothing I owned. A white button-down shirt my mother had bought me on sale for fifteen bucks. Right as I reached for the front doorknob, Arthur called my name. “Nora.” “Yeah.” “Before your mother passed, she made me promise to tell you something.” I froze, my hand hovering over the brass knob. “She said, ‘Arthur, if Nora decides to go look for that man, do not stop her. But you make sure you tell her one thing. Do not beg him. Do not get on your knees. And do not ever let him look down on you.’” A sharp burn stung the back of my nose. I didn’t turn around. “I hear you.” 3 It took an hour and a half on the city bus to cross into the financial district. The Kensington Global headquarters towered at the end of the block. Forty-six stories of sleek, reflective glass. The morning sun hit the facade, making the building look like a golden blade piercing the sky. The revolving doors were spotless. The lobby was paved in imported marble. When I walked in, my worn canvas sneakers let out a pathetic, squeaking sound against the polished floor. The receptionist at the front desk looked up. Her eyes slowly dragged from the top of my head down to my cheap shoes. I will never forget that look as long as I live. She looked at me like I was a cockroach that had crawled through the front door. “Can I help you? Do you have an appointment?” “I need to see Richard Kensington.” The corner of her mouth twitched. It wasn’t a smile. It was the kind of exhausted smirk you give a crazy person. “Mr. Kensington does not accept walk-ins. What company are you representing?” “I’m his daughter.” The smirk froze on her face for exactly one second. Then her hand dropped to the intercom button on her desk. “Security. We have a girl in the lobby claiming to be the CEO’s daughter. Please remove her.” Two massive security guards appeared out of nowhere. They grabbed me by the arms, lifting my feet entirely off the floor, and dragged me toward the exit. “I am actually his daughter! Just let him see my face!” “We get three of you nutjobs a month,” one of the guards sneered, rolling his eyes. “Last one claimed she was his long-lost twin sister.” “Go home, kid. You don’t belong in a place like this.” They violently shoved me through the revolving doors. My foot caught the edge of the metal frame, and I crashed hard onto the concrete steps outside. The skin on my knee tore open. Hot blood immediately pooled and began trickling down my shin. But the physical pain was absolutely nothing compared to the suffocating humiliation burning in my chest. Right at that exact moment. A matte black Porsche Cayenne pulled up to the curb. The heavy door swung open, and a pair of Italian leather loafers stepped onto the pavement. It was Tristan Kensington. He looked even taller than in the photos. His posture was rigid, and his eyes were completely devoid of warmth. He was flanked by an assistant, a secretary, and a driver. He had a bigger entourage than a movie star. He glanced down at me bleeding on the ground, then turned his head toward the guards. “What is this?” “Mr. Kensington, just a crazy girl causing a scene. Claimed to be the Chairman’s daughter. We handled it.” Tristan let his heavy eyelids droop, looking down his nose at me. His lips curled into a cruel, mocking sneer. “Another gold digger looking for a payout?” He casually reached into his tailored jacket, pulled out a sleek money clip, and slid out a crisp hundred-dollar bill. He leaned over and dropped it on the concrete right in front of my face. “Buy some bandages. And don’t ever come back.” He stood up straight, casually adjusting his expensive cuffs, and looked at his secretary. “Make sure the front desk registers her face. If she shows up again, call the cops and have her arrested for trespassing.” The rhythmic clicking of his leather shoes echoed off the concrete as he walked away, never once looking back. I stayed on my knees. The wind blew past, lifting the edge of the hundred-dollar bill and flipping it onto the back of my hand. I stared at that piece of paper for a very long time. Then I stood up. The blood from my knee dripped steadily down my leg. One drop. Two drops. Staining my white canvas shoes. I didn’t run away. I walked down the street with my spine completely straight, step by deliberate step. I found a public restroom a block away, washed the blood off my leg, and slapped two cheap bandages over the wound. I dug into my pocket and pulled out the business card. Thomas Wright. Wright and Associates. Financial District, 38th Floor. I checked the building directory. It was a three-minute walk from the Kensington Global headquarters. Mom, did you seriously pick a law firm right next door to his empire? I pushed through the heavy glass doors of the firm. The receptionist looked up at me. Her expression was completely different from the one at the Kensington building. There was no disgust. No superiority. “How can I help you? Are you looking for someone?” “Thomas Wright.” “And your name?” “Nora. Nora Bennett.” She froze. She immediately snatched up the phone on her desk. “Mr. Wright. There is a Ms. Bennett here to see you. Yes. Nora Bennett. Right away.” When she hung up the phone, her entire demeanor shifted into absolute, terrifying respect. “Ms. Bennett. Mr. Wright is in the corner office at the end of the hall. He said to tell you…” She swallowed hard. “He said he has been waiting for you for a very long time.” 4 Thomas Wright’s office was massive. The walls were lined with floor-to-ceiling mahogany bookshelves stacked with heavy legal texts. He stood up immediately when I walked in. He was in his late fifties, with silver hair and wire-rimmed glasses. The moment his eyes locked onto my face, they turned glassy with unshed tears. “You look… exactly like your mother.” I didn’t have the energy for small talk. “Mr. Wright, my mom told me to find you. She said you would tell me everything.” He nodded slowly. He walked over to a heavy steel safe bolted into the wall and punched in a code. He pulled out a thick, black archival box. Inside was a mountain of legal documents. He pulled the top file and laid it on his desk. It was an irrevocable trust agreement. Grantor. Margaret Bennett. Beneficiary. Nora Bennett. Establishment Date. March 15th, 2012. The signature at the bottom was my mother’s. It was meticulous and precise, vastly different from the shaky writing on the envelope. It looked like she had practiced that signature a thousand times. “Your mother walked into this office fifteen years ago,” Thomas said, his voice slow and heavy. “She was wearing a faded, cheap winter coat, clutching a plastic grocery bag. That bag was filled with cash. Exactly sixty thousand dollars.” “She sat exactly where you are sitting and said, ‘Mr. Wright, I need you to open a brokerage account for me. I want to buy stock.’” “I asked her what company she wanted to invest in.” “She looked me dead in the eye and said, ‘Kensington Global.’” My fingertips went completely numb. “I was stunned. A woman wearing threadbare clothes, clutching a grocery bag of cash, wanting to dump her life savings into a company I assumed she knew nothing about?” “But then she pulled out a spiral notebook.” “It was filled with three years of Kensington Global’s financial data. Revenue streams, profit margins, debt ratios, executive board shifts, and horizontal industry analysis. It was more thoroughly researched than reports I get from Wall Street analysts.” “She looked at me and said something I will never forget.” Thomas took off his glasses and wiped them with a silk cloth. “She said, ‘Mr. Wright, I don’t know the first thing about the law. But I know one truth. I cannot leave my daughter’s fate in someone else’s hands.’” A hot tear spilled over my lashes and hit the polished mahogany desk. “For the next fifteen years,” Thomas said, opening a thick portfolio, “your mother took the vast majority of the allowance she received and pumped it straight into Kensington stock. In the early days, when the stock was cheap and the market cap was small, she bought huge blocks of it. When they went public and the price skyrocketed, she bought smaller fractions. But she never stopped.” He slid the final page of the report across the desk. Total Ownership Stake. 8.3%. Current Market Value. Twenty-Four Million Dollars. A blinding white flash exploded behind my eyes. My mother. Living on a nine-hundred-dollar pension. Wearing patched coats. Walking in shoes worn down to the pavement. A woman who never even bought herself a birthday cake. Over fifteen brutal years, operating entirely in the shadows where nobody bothered to look, she had systematically bought up eight percent of a billion-dollar empire. Tristan Kensington had thrown a hundred-dollar bill at me and told me to get lost. I currently held more voting shares in his company than he did. “There is one more thing.” Thomas reached into the very bottom of the black box and pulled out a heavy manila envelope. There was no writing on it. The flap was sealed with thick, red wax. “Your mother gave me strict instructions. This envelope was only to be opened after her death.” I broke the wax seal. I pulled out a few sheets of loose-leaf paper. It was handwritten. The writing was jagged and erratic. In several places, the blue ink had bled, warped by tears that had fallen onto the page. The title was written in bold letters. “My Death Record.” I read the first line. “Nora, if you are reading this, it means I failed to swap out my medication in time.” Every drop of blood in my body turned to ice. “Mr. Wright.” “How exactly did my mother die?”

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It had been three years since I ended things with Noah Slavin, three years since I’d left this city behind. Now, I was back. Everyone was whispering, speculating that I’d returned because I couldn’t stand being away from him any longer, that I was here to beg him to take me back. Noah himself seemed to think so, too. His buddies were already sucking up to him, their voices dripping with envy. “Damn, Noah, you’ve got some serious game. After all this time, the great Sienna Windsor is still wrapped around your finger.” Another one chimed in, “Who can compete with our man Noah? She stormed out of here like she was never coming back, and now look at her, crawling back like a lost puppy, ready to beg.” A mocking smile touched Noah’s lips as he listened. He let out a soft, arrogant laugh. “Don’t be ridiculous. Even if she did come back begging, it all depends on whether I’m still interested.” But none of them knew the truth. I wasn’t the same girl I was three years ago. Six months ago, I got engaged to Grayson Holt. I was back to plan my own wedding. 01 My friends were all there to meet me at the airport. My best friend, Bella, threw her arms around my waist. “Sienna, you jerk! You’re finally back. I missed you like crazy.” Familiar faces surrounded me, warm and welcoming. But I never expected Noah to be there. Three years hadn’t changed him much. He still had those roguish, charming eyes, a lazy swagger, and that same untamable arrogance. “I told you not to wear stuff that’s so tight,” he said, his voice a low drawl. “Don’t come crying to me when people make fun of your body again. I’m just looking out for you.” Right. Still the same silver-tongued devil. I used to be so insecure about my large chest. A comment like that would have made me hunch my shoulders, instinctively looking down to see if something was out of place. But I was long past the age of letting someone else’s words define me. Besides, I was wearing a high-necked, knee-length dress. If anyone had a problem with it, that was a reflection of their own dirty mind, not my fault. So, I just gave him a cool, detached glance and a polite, distant smile, saying nothing. Bella, however, shot him a glare. “What do you know? Sienna has the kind of killer body other girls would die for. All the curves are in the right places.” Noah seemed to notice the change in me. His expression faltered for a second, his eyes fixed on me. To celebrate my return, my friends booked a private room at a bar. When it was time to sit, I deliberately chose a seat as far away from Noah as possible. The man’s sharp brows twitched, but he stayed silent, merely shrugging off the other girls who tried to slide in next to him. At one point, a couple of girls from the next room came over, using a game of “truth or dare” as an excuse to ask for Noah’s number. He turned them all down politely. That surprised me. The Noah I remembered was never one to refuse a pretty face, as long as she was decent-looking. Just then, a friend leaned in and whispered to me. “Noah’s changed a lot since you left. He barely talks to girls anymore. You hardly ever see him with another woman.” 02 I had no idea what he was trying to achieve by telling me that. Was I supposed to be touched? A little late for that, wasn’t it? This worthless, self-serving gesture? He was only trying to make himself feel better. Uninterested, I got up and headed to the restroom. On my way back, I saw Noah and a few of his friends smoking on the balcony just off the hallway. Their voices drifted over to me. “Seriously, Noah, you’re the man. All these years, and Sienna Windsor still can’t get over you.” “Yeah, teach us your secrets, bro. I wanna know what it’s like to have a rich heiress completely hung up on me.” “Who can compare to Noah? Remember how final she was when she left? And now she’s back, tail between her legs, ready to play nice.” A smirk played on Noah’s lips. He chuckled. “You guys are talking nonsense. Even if she begged me to take her back, it’s not a given I’d say yes.” A round of laughter followed. Then, one of them spoke up, a little more thoughtfully. “I don’t know, man. Sienna seems… different this time. She’s barely even looked at you.” Noah flicked the ash from his cigarette, the ember glowing faintly. He exhaled a cloud of smoke, completely unconcerned. “Different how? She’s just throwing a tantrum. It’s not the first time.” So that’s what they thought. That I’d come back to beg Noah for a second chance. A three-year-long tantrum. What a creative way to see it. I was afraid they were in for a major disappointment. Because six months ago, I had gotten engaged to Grayson Holt, the man at the helm of the Holt Corporation. I was back to get married. Still, I couldn’t entirely blame them. The old me really had been head-over-heels for Noah. 03 Noah and I were childhood sweethearts. It all started when he told me, “Stick with me, and I’ll have your back.” And so, I trailed after him for over a decade. After high school graduation, he said, “Sienna, I know you like me. Let’s give this a shot.” And just like that, we were a couple. I used to think I was special to him. He was the one who, when other guys would catcall me or make crude jokes about my figure, would complain about me being too flashy, then corner those jerks in an alley and beat the crap out of them. He was the one who, when I got injured during a track meet, set aside his germaphobia to have someone carry me to the nurse’s office on a stretcher. He’d grumble about me being a pain while carefully tending to my wounds. I always told myself that Noah just wasn’t good at expressing his feelings. That if I just loved him enough, one day, he would show me his gentle side. That fantasy shattered the day Lily, a transfer student on a scholarship, showed up. That’s when I learned that Noah’s kindness didn’t have to come packaged with insults and belittlement. That he could be genuinely warm and considerate. At first, Noah just said he felt sorry for Lily. She was all alone, struggling to pay tuition with student loans, and he just wanted to help her out. I believed him. I even went out of my way to buy Lily clothes and toiletries. I forgot that so many relationships begin with pity. But the moment that truly killed every last bit of hope was the campus “Prom Queen” election. 04 At our university, the elected Prom King and Queen got to share the first dance at the Freshman Ball. Noah was, without a doubt, voted Prom King. I, on the other hand, worked my ass off to become Prom Queen. I campaigned relentlessly, stayed up all night helping classmates with their group projects, and spent my entire monthly allowance buying them lunches and gifts. But when the final vote came down to a tie between me and Lily, Noah cast the deciding vote. For her. In that instant, my world went silent. The cheers, the whispers, the laughter around me all faded into a dull roar. All I could see was Noah on the stage and Lily in the crowd, sharing a triumphant smile. A bitter, acidic feeling churned in my stomach. For the first time, I wondered if Noah had ever liked me at all. He tried to smooth things over afterward, a rare attempt at placating me. He explained that the Prom King and Queen got a paid gig to shoot promotional posters for the university. I didn’t need the money, but Lily, with her difficult family situation, desperately did. He asked me not to fight her for it. But that night, outside the pool hall, I overheard the real reason from him and his friends. “Nice one, Noah. Getting Lily crowned was all your doing, wasn’t it? Sacrificing your own girlfriend for the cause. Cold-blooded, man.” Noah just laughed, not denying it. “A Prom Queen should be… you know, the pure type. Sienna’s not exactly the right fit.” “True,” another one added. “If Sienna wore the gown, all the freshmen would probably get nosebleeds just looking at her.” The whole group erupted in laughter, Noah included. The same boy who used to get into fights because someone made fun of me had become one of them, laughing right along. “But isn’t Sienna your girlfriend? We thought you were into her type.” Noah’s demeanor shifted, as if they’d hit a nerve. “No way,” he denied instantly. “If my parents hadn’t pushed me to be nice to her, I wouldn’t have given her a second look. A girl who’s that clingy? It’s such a turn-off.” The others glanced toward the entrance of the pool hall, their knowing smirks saying it all. One of his friends did push back a little. “I don’t know, I think Sienna’s great. If I were voting, I’d pick her. She’s a total bombshell. Hottest girl in school, built like a goddess.” The conversation grew cruder, and Noah’s face finally hardened. “That’s enough,” he snapped, his eyes landing on Lily, who was sitting nearby, blushing furiously. “There’s a lady present. Watch your mouths.” 05 I don’t remember how I got home. It felt like the world had been ripped out from under me. My heart was a block of ice, the cold so sharp it was agonizing. A lump of years’ worth of hurt lodged in my throat, and I couldn’t even find the courage to storm in there and confront him. It was hard to even breathe. If Noah’s love had been like sugarcane—too fibrous to swallow but too sweet to spit out—now, even that last hint of sweetness was gone. I didn’t sleep a wink. The next day, I dragged my exhausted body to class, only to see Lily showing off the dress Noah had bought her for the ball. “Wow, Lily, that dress is gorgeous!” someone gushed. Lily shot a triumphant look in my direction, but her tone was feignedly helpless. “I told Noah he shouldn’t have, but he just wouldn’t listen. He said that as his dance partner, I’d be by his side all night, representing him.” I was already past the point of caring, but Lily made a point to walk over to me. “Sienna, what do you think? Does this dress suit me?” She held it up against herself, giving a little, not-so-accidental twirl. I ignored her. She leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “You know, Sienna, I’ve always wanted to ask… are they real?” She gestured toward my chest. “I mean, a lot of rich girls get implants to… you know, hook the guy they want.” “What did you just say?” I shot up from my chair and shoved her, hard. Lily stumbled backward, crashing into a desk. A cup of water tipped over, soaking the front of her shirt. “Sienna, what the hell are you doing?” Noah’s furious voice boomed from the doorway. He rushed to Lily’s side, pulling her into his arms and glaring at me with eyes as cold as ice. I told him what Lily had said, what she had insinuated. “So what? It’s a normal question,” Noah cut me off, his voice laced with impatience. “The way you look, anyone would wonder. You don’t have to be so sensitive about it.” With that, he draped his own jacket over Lily’s shoulders and carried her out of the room, presumably to the nurse’s office. Watching his arms wrapped so tightly around her, my eyes filled with tears. So, his germaphobia was selective. The one thing I had always longed for was something she could have so effortlessly. A broken laugh escaped my lips. Tears finally streamed down my face. I had been such a fool for so many years. His words were the final bucket of ice water, extinguishing the last flicker of hope in my heart. I broke up with Noah. I called my mom and told her I wanted to study abroad. The withdrawal papers were processed in two days. On the third day, I was on a flight to New York. Other than the generic holiday greetings he mass-texted every year, we had no contact. 06 “Hey, did you guys hear? I think Grayson Holt, the head of the Holt Corporation, is getting married.” Someone in our private room suddenly dropped the gossip bomb. “For real? That’s like seeing a pig fly. That guy is a total workaholic. He’s 32, and his parents have been on his case for years, but he never budged. They were starting to lose hope.” “I wonder who the lucky girl is. She must be something special to land him. I heard she’s young, still in college in New York.” “Sienna, you were in New York. Do you know who it is?” Bella nudged my arm. I managed a small smile, taking a sip of my drink to hide my unease. “No idea. I was totally focused on my studies. I didn’t really follow that stuff.” My thumb traced the rim of my glass, a nervous habit whenever I lied. Bella nodded, buying it completely. Only Noah noticed my small gesture. He gave me a long, searching look. When the party ended, we all started heading out. Suddenly, a jacket was draped over my shoulders. Noah was standing beside me. “I’ll take you home. If my parents find out I let you go home alone after drinking, they’ll kill me.” His tone was so familiar, so intimate. As if I’d been gone for three days, not three years. The old me would have been floating on a cloud of pink bubbles. But now, I just stepped back and handed the jacket back to him. “That’s okay. My boyfriend is coming to pick me up.” The word “fiancé” felt too intimate, too much to say out loud just yet. Noah’s smile froze on his face. Everyone else turned to stare, their expressions a mix of shock and confusion. The guys who’d been talking smack on the balcony looked particularly flustered, their eyes darting between me and Noah. “You brat! You kept something this big from me?” Bella slung an arm around my neck, feigning offense. I laughed, apologizing. “I’ll tell you everything later, I promise.” One by one, everyone else left. I stood by the curb, waiting for Grayson, with a scowling Noah lingering behind me. After about ten minutes, the scowl on his face slowly melted into a smug grin. “Sienna, you don’t have to resort to childish games just because you don’t have a boyfriend. I know I was harsh before. If you’re still mad, I can…” Before he could finish, a black Bentley pulled up silently in front of us. 07 Arthur, the driver, got out. “Miss Windsor, Mr. Holt’s flight was delayed. He asked me to come and get you.” I nodded and slid into the back seat, not sparing Noah a final glance. A moment later, my phone buzzed with a message from him. Don’t tell me that old guy you hired is your ‘boyfriend.’ I get that you’re trying to make me jealous, but don’t lie like that again. It actually pisses me off. My brow furrowed in disgust. I blocked his number. I hadn’t bothered before because it seemed pointless. But now that he was actively nauseating me, there was no reason to put up with it. Sensing my discomfort, Arthur spoke from the driver’s seat. “Miss Windsor, there’s some soup for you. Mr. Holt anticipated you might be drinking tonight and had us prepare it.” He continued, “Also, Mr. Holt knows you prefer not to stay at your family’s home. He’s had the villa at Crescent Bay prepared for you. We’ve already replaced the bedding and toiletries with your preferred brands. If there’s anything else you need, please don’t hesitate to let me know.” I nodded, picking up the thermos beside me and taking a sip. A warm, comforting feeling spread through my stomach. My mom had told me during the matchmaking process that older men were better because they knew how to take care of you. Turns out, she was right. It was nice. I didn’t have to worry about a thing; he had already arranged everything. After a shower, I sank into the plush bed, surrounded by the calming scent of my favorite aromatherapy diffuser, and fell asleep almost instantly. The next morning, I walked out of my room to find Grayson, just returned from his trip. He stood there in a black overcoat, tall and imposing. The moment his eyes met mine, a wave of raw, masculine energy washed over me. “You’re staying here too?” I asked, my brain still foggy with sleep. I’d completely forgotten this was his house. He raised an eyebrow. “Should I leave?” “No, that’s not what I meant!” I backpedaled quickly. “I just meant… there are a lot of rooms here. If you wanted to stay… it wouldn’t be a problem.” A hint of a smile touched his eyes. He handed his coat to the butler and strode toward me. Before I could say another word, he cupped my face in his hands, leaned down, and kissed me.

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1 The moment I stepped through the front door, the house was already buzzing. My older sister was practically vibrating with excitement, ready to parade her wealthy fiancé in front of our parents. In the living room, my future brother-in-law was enthusiastically handing over expensive gift baskets to my mom and dad. When it was my turn, he shoved a pair of cheap rubber gloves into my hands. “For your cleaning lady to use. Just a little something,” he said with a charming smile. Before I could even process what was happening, my sister jumped in and thanked him profusely. Mom suddenly grabbed my arm, her nails digging into my skin, and dragged me into the kitchen. She lowered her voice to a frantic whisper. “Carter comes from old money. He’s an only child. We told his family that Stella is our only daughter too.” She shoved a greasy dish towel against my chest. “Tonight, you are the housekeeper. Start prepping dinner right now. We have a VIP guest, and the food better be perfect.” I looked down at the dish towel in my hands and actually let out a laugh. This was literally my house. I bought it. But suddenly, it was the “housekeeper’s” quarters. From the living room, Carter’s arrogant voice drifted in. He was definitely kicking his feet up. “Your maid doesn’t really seem to know her place. You guys need to train her better.” I stood in the doorway of my own kitchen, listening to this absolute circus. Suddenly, the people sitting in that living room felt like total strangers. I dropped the towel on the counter and looked at my mother with pure amusement. “Mom, you’ve got to be kidding me.” Her face dropped the second the words left my mouth. “Start cooking right now, do you hear me? If you don’t cook, how are we supposed to explain a maid who doesn’t do her job? The whole lie will fall apart!” I just stared at her, dead silent. Mom took a deep breath. Her tone shifted from a harsh command to a pathetic, soft plea. “Riley, please. I promise I’ll find a way to explain everything to him later. I swear.” She patted my arm, her eyes darting nervously toward the living room. “But right now, the most important thing is helping your sister keep this story together. Just swallow your pride for one night, okay? Be a good girl.” Without waiting for my answer, she turned on her heel and scurried back out to entertain Carter. I stood alone in a kitchen piled high with raw vegetables and frozen meat. I calmly pulled out my phone, opened a delivery app, and found the most expensive upscale steakhouse nearby. I ordered a massive premium catering package. Ribeyes, lobsters, the works. Payment method: Cash on delivery. Name on the order: Arthur, my dad. If they were going to erase my existence, I definitely wasn’t going to be their unpaid private chef. After placing the order, I walked straight to my bedroom and shut the door. Through the thin walls, I could still hear Carter complaining about the “maid’s terrible attitude.” An hour later, the doorbell rang. Dad opened the door and just stood there, staring at the mountain of food. “I didn’t order any of this.” The delivery guy held up the receipt. “The name on the slip is Arthur. The address matches. Please just check the bill, sir.” “Why would I order four hundred dollars worth of takeout?” Dad sputtered. “We have a maid to cook for us!” Carter’s voice chimed in from the couch. “I bet your lazy maid ordered it. She refused to cook, hid in her room, and now she’s ordering takeout on your dime.” Footsteps stomped down the hall, and my bedroom door flew open. Dad stood in the doorway, his face purple with rage. “Riley, get out here right now! Did you order four hundred dollars worth of food?” I sat up on my bed. “Yep. Sure did.” Dad panicked, realizing I wasn’t even going to deny it. “There is a fridge full of groceries in there! What is wrong with you?” Carter strolled up behind him, leaning against the doorframe. “See? What did I tell you? I’ve never seen such a lazy, entitled housekeeper in my life. You guys really hired a nightmare.” Stella finally spoke up, crossing her arms. “Riley, we pay you a great salary and treat you like family. Have you gotten so comfortable that you think you own the place?” She glared at me, her eyes flashing with a warning. “Fine. Since you didn’t cook, you can pay the four hundred bucks yourself.” She turned to Dad, laying the guilt trip on thick. “Dad, see? This is what happens when you and Mom are too nice to the help. You give them an inch, and they walk all over you.” Carter nodded in total agreement. “My family employs staff too. If I were you, I’d fire her tonight. Young girls working as maids… honestly, they’re mostly just lazy freeloaders.” Stella stepped closer. “Riley, Venmo me the four hundred dollars right now, and I’ll go pay the delivery guy. Otherwise, I’m having my parents fire you on the spot.” I looked right past her, locking eyes with Mom, who had just promised to “explain everything.” “Are you going to say something?” I asked her. “Or are you just waiting for me to pull out my wallet like she is?” 2 Carter looked completely baffled by my question. “Wait, why does your maid talk to you like that? And why is she calling you sister?” Stella’s face went pale. She quickly grabbed Carter’s arm and pressed herself against him. “Oh, babe, she’s just been with us for so long. We treat her like family, so sometimes she forgets her boundaries and gets a little overly familiar.” Mom forced out a nervous, awkward laugh. “Yes, exactly! This… this poor girl is the daughter of a very distant relative from the countryside. We took her in to help her out. She just calls Stella her sister out of habit.” Mom looked at Carter with wide, innocent eyes. “Don’t you worry, Carter. Stella is our one and only child.” I stared at Mom, letting her words sink in. My sister wasn’t always the “one and only.” Her name used to be Sarah. But five years ago, she threw a massive tantrum, screaming that my existence ruined her dream of being a pampered only child. To shut her up, my parents literally let her legally change her name to Stella, treating her like she was the center of the universe. Carter raised an eyebrow, his gaze sweeping back and forth between me and Stella. “A distant relative. Right. That makes sense.” He smirked. “I was actually thinking she looked a little bit like you, babe.” Dad rubbed his hands together, sweating slightly. “Yeah, well, Riley doesn’t have much of an education. She couldn’t find a real job out there, so we figured we’d throw her a bone. Room and board in exchange for some light chores. Better than letting her rot on the streets.” Carter nodded slowly, totally buying the lie. “Ah, I get it now. No wonder she has such a nasty attitude. She thinks because she’s blood, she doesn’t actually have to work. That explains a lot.” He turned to my parents, looking incredibly smug. “But a maid is a maid, and family is family. You have to draw a hard line. You’ve definitely spoiled her.” Stella’s face was flushed with embarrassment. she pointed a shaking finger at me. “Riley, I don’t have time for your games! Pay the delivery guy right now!” I ignored her completely and kept my eyes on Mom. “Mom. Are you going to tell him the truth or not?” Carter froze. “What did she just call you?” All the blood drained from Mom’s face. Stella lost her mind. “Riley, that is enough! Who the hell are you calling Mom? Are you psychotic? That is my mother!” Mom looked at me, then at Stella, and finally let out a heavy sigh, playing the victim perfectly. “I’m sorry, Carter. This girl has always been a little mentally unstable. Ever since she came to live with us, she’s been obsessed with calling me Mom. I never agreed to it, but she just won’t stop. It’s been years, and we just can’t fix her delusions.” Carter let out a long “Ohhh,” shaking his head with a condescending laugh. “Wow. I have never met someone with such thick skin.” He took a step toward me, looking down his nose. “Listen, little girl. If you just put your head down, did your job, and showed some respect, your aunt and uncle here would take good care of you. But with this lazy, greedy attitude? Nobody in the real world is going to want you. Got it?” Right at that moment, the delivery guy yelled from the front door. “Hello? Is anyone going to pay for this? I have other deliveries to make!” Dad grabbed my arm, his grip painfully tight. “You ordered the food, you pay for it. Cut the crap.” He yanked me toward the door, positioning his body so Carter couldn’t see his face, and glared at me with absolute venom. “Riley, I’m warning you. I don’t have your mother’s patience. If you don’t pay this bill right now, I am going to make your life a living hell the second he leaves.” I opened my mouth to fire back, but Mom suddenly stepped in and peeled Dad’s fingers off my arm. She let out a dramatic sigh. “Alright, alright, stop fighting. This is embarrassing.” She pulled out her phone, scanned the delivery guy’s card reader, and paid the four hundred dollars herself. She put her phone away, turned to me, and looked at me with a face full of sheer exhaustion. “Riley, when are you going to grow up?” She leaned in close, her voice breaking. “Riley, I am begging you. Just for the length of this dinner. Can you please just help your sister? Just swallow it down this one last time.” Her eyes were entirely filled with desperation, pleading with me to let them humiliate me just a little bit longer. I swallowed the bitter lump in my throat. Seeing Mom pay the bill, Stella crossed her arms, looking deeply annoyed. Carter puffed out his chest, stepping up like the man of the house. “Stella, since your parents are too soft to put her in her place, let me handle it. I’ll teach her some manners.” 3 Carter confidently walked over to the head of the dining table and took a seat. “Come here, maid. Serve the food.” I almost laughed out loud at the sheer audacity. But Mom was standing right next to me. She reached out and gave my sleeve a gentle, desperate tug. I looked back at her. Her eyes were begging me. I remembered the tremor in her voice when she said, Just swallow it down this one last time. I let out a slow breath. Fine. This would be the absolute last time I ever let my heart soften for these people. I walked over to the dining table, opened the expensive takeout boxes one by one, laid out the silverware, and arranged the plates perfectly. Carter leaned back in his chair, totally satisfied. “See? That’s more like it. A maid needs to act like a maid. Stop walking around with a sour face like everyone owes you money.” Stella sat down next to him, flashing a sickeningly sweet smile. “Don’t let her get to you, babe. She’s just an uneducated hick who doesn’t know any better.” I completely tuned them out. Once the last plate was set, I turned on my heel to go back to my room. I obviously wasn’t going to eat with them. Nobody had invited me anyway. But the second I turned around, Stella’s voice snapped like a whip. “Maid! Where do you think you’re going? Come back here and peel my shrimp.” She leaned back in her chair, pointing a perfectly manicured finger at the platter of garlic butter shrimp. She lifted her chin. “What are you staring at? Peel the shells. My fiancé loves seafood.” Carter sat there, watching me with a smug, highly entertained look on his face. “Oh, and while you’re at it, carve the meat off that prime rib. Keep it in nice, whole slices. Don’t hack it up.” Listening to them confidently bark orders at me in my own dining room, a cold laugh escaped my throat. “Do you want me to chew it for you too? That way you won’t even have to use your jaws. Think of the calories you’ll save.” The entire house fell dead silent. A second later, Stella slammed her hand on the table. Her face turned beet red. “Riley! What the hell is your problem? We ask you to do your basic job and you give us this sarcastic attitude? Are you purposely trying to ruin my night?” I looked at her, my voice eerily calm. “I served the food out of respect for Mom. That does not mean you get to treat me like a dog.” “You could have just let me go to my room so you two could enjoy your dinner. But you just had to call me back here to flex. So tell me, Stella, who is actually trying to ruin whose night?” Stella shot up from her chair. “Who gave you the right to use my first name? A maid thinking she’s on my level? You are out of your mind!” I stared at her face. We looked incredibly similar. The resemblance was undeniable, and the whole situation suddenly felt hilarious to me. “Stella, are you done acting? You are my biological sister. Did you seriously brainwash yourself into believing I’m actually your maid and you’re my boss?” Carter’s smug smile vanished. He frowned deeply. “What? Biological sister? What is she talking about?” He looked at Stella, his voice dropping an octave. “Stella, what did she just say? She’s your sister?” Before Stella could even stutter out a lie, Carter turned his sharp gaze onto my parents. “Arthur. Martha. What is going on here? You explicitly told my family that Stella was an only child. Where did a biological sister come from?” When my parents just stood there stammering, Carter raised his voice. “What is the truth? Has this entire family been lying to me since day one?” He slammed his napkin down. “Because if you have, this wedding is off!” I didn’t even have a chance to react. Suddenly, Mom lunged at me. She closed the distance in a second and swung her arm. Whack. The slap echoed through the room. I was completely blindsided. My ear rang violently. Mom pointed a shaking finger right at my nose, screaming at the top of her lungs. “What kind of insane garbage are you spewing?! Who is your sister?! If you say one more crazy word, I will throw you out on the street!” The skin on my cheek burned like fire. “Insane garbage?” I asked quietly. I reached up and touched my stinging face. “Fine. You want to prove I’m crazy? Go get the official Family Trust documents. Bring out the legal paperwork and show your precious future son-in-law exactly how many daughters you have.” I locked eyes with Carter. “You want the truth? Make them pull out the legal records. See for yourself.” Carter’s face was made of stone. “She’s right. Go get the documents. I want to see if I’m marrying into a family of pathological liars.” 4 Stella panicked. She grabbed Carter’s arm, her nails digging into his shirt. “Babe, please, don’t listen to her, she’s literally having a psychotic break, she’s—” Carter ripped his arm away. “Bring me the papers!” Dad stood up slowly. I honestly thought he would hesitate. I thought he would make up an excuse about losing the paperwork. But he didn’t. Without a single word, Dad turned around and marched into the master bedroom. Less than a minute later, he walked back out holding a heavy, official-looking leather folder. It was their notarized Family Trust and Beneficiary dossier. He slammed it down on the dining table right in front of Carter. “Look for yourself.” Carter eyed it suspiciously. He opened the folder, flipped past the legal jargon, and checked the primary beneficiary pages. Slowly, the tension left his shoulders. A look of total relief washed over his face. He let out a short laugh. “Wow. I almost let this little maid play me.” He tossed the folder back onto the table. “Arthur, Martha, your housekeeper is severely unhinged. She doesn’t just refuse to work, she’s a compulsive liar.” I froze. My heart dropped into my stomach. I lunged forward and snatched the folder off the table. There were only three names listed under the primary family unit. Grantor: Arthur. Grantor: Martha. Sole Beneficiary and Child: Stella. The rest of the space was blank. There was no second daughter. There was no Riley. Any record of my existence in this family’s legal framework had been completely scrubbed. My hands started to shake. I looked up at Mom and Dad. Neither of them would meet my eyes. They just awkwardly smiled and tried to usher Carter back into his seat to eat. Under Stella’s profile, it listed her former name: Sarah. She changed her name five years ago. And the date stamped on this trust document was exactly five years ago. It hit me like a freight train. I thought she just threw a tantrum and changed her name. I had absolutely no idea they used that opportunity to legally erase me from the family entirely. An overwhelming, suffocating wave of grief washed through my chest. Stella, feeling victorious, sneered at me. Her voice dripped with malice. “Do you finally understand now? Read the room. Know your place.” She dropped back into her chair and tilted her chin toward the garlic shrimp. “Alright, enough drama. Stop standing there like an idiot and peel my food.” The side of my face still throbbed fiercely from the slap. My mind was spinning. Dad glared at me, his eyes dead and cold. “Let me make this perfectly clear, Riley. You are the help. There is no place for you in this family. You aren’t in the paperwork, which means you do not exist.” He pointed a stiff finger at Stella. “Whatever your sister tells you to do, you do it. Stop being so ungrateful.” Stella laughed, highly amused. “Exactly, Dad. Look at her standing there. A maid trying to play the tragic victim.” Carter, completely relaxed now, picked up his fork. “Alright, enough wasting time. Peel the shrimp, carve the meat, and then go wait in your little maid’s room. I’m tired of looking at you.” I looked at the three of them sitting around the table, a perfectly happy little family. And I smiled. I smiled so hard tears actually pricked the corners of my eyes. I was laughing at my own stupidity. I was so stupid to think that if I just endured it, things would get better. So stupid to think they actually loved me deep down. So stupid to let my heart soften over and over again. I literally just got slapped across the face, and a part of my brain was still trying to call them mom and dad. I tilted my head back and wiped the tear away. Then, I looked dead at the three people waiting for me to serve them. Stella rolled her eyes. “Are you psycho? What are you smiling at? Hurry up, the seafood is getting cold and gross.” I took a very deep breath. I reached out, grabbed the heavy fabric of the tablecloth with both hands, and yanked it backward with everything I had. Plates, bowls, and glasses launched into the air. Stella screamed, scrambling backward as hot garlic butter and cocktail sauce splashed all over her designer dress. Carter leaped up, cursing loudly as dark gravy ruined the front of his expensive trousers. Mom and Dad sat frozen in absolute shock. I grinned at them. “You guys like legal documents? Perfect. I have some too.” I turned around, walked calmly into my bedroom, and pulled a thick manila envelope from my safe. I walked back into the dining room, stepped over the shattered porcelain, and tossed the official Title Deed to the house onto the bare table. “Take a good look. The sole owner of this property is Riley. The girl who doesn’t exist.” I crossed my arms. “So right now, the girl who doesn’t exist is telling all of you to get the hell out of my house.”

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To dodge overtime, I’d cultivated a reputation as a “wife-obsessed madman.” Every day, rain or shine, I clocked out on the dot to go home and cook for my wife and kid. If I didn’t, my wife would “discipline” me. My colleagues all thought my life was a living hell. I never imagined the tables would turn so spectacularly. My ex-girlfriend, Victoria Borstein, just bought our company. She was flipping through everyone’s attendance records when her eyes landed on me. A smile that didn’t reach her eyes played on her lips. “The entire company, and you’re the only one who never works overtime. The reason being… you have to go home and cook for your wife and kid?” A coworker next to me immediately jumped to my defense. “Please, Ms. Borstein, you have to understand. His wife’s temper is… notoriously bad.” He then pulled up my sleeve, revealing a fresh scrape on my arm. Victoria’s face instantly darkened. Without a word, she grabbed me and dragged me into the CEO’s office, slamming me against the back of the door. Her eyes were rimmed with red, and she growled through clenched teeth, “Asher Sterling, we only broke up two years ago. Were you in that much of a hurry to marry a woman like that?” 1 Out in the world, your identity is what you make it. My persona at the office was simple: The ultimate simp. Married, with a kid. Every other sentence was about my wife and child. Because of this, I was the only person in the entire company who could leave on time every single day. Everyone knew the score—if I was late getting home, dinner would be delayed, and my wife would beat me. I didn’t care about overtime pay or comp days. I had zero ambition, a perfectly chill, non-competitive employee. My colleagues loved having someone so utterly non-threatening around. My real happiness began after I clocked out. A few drinks with the guys, checking out some hot girls, enjoying life. Life was peaceful, uncomplicated. Until our company was acquired. And the new CEO was my… ex-girlfriend. 2 Honestly, the day Victoria Borstein descended upon our office, my brain short-circuited. Perfectly styled curls, an expensive designer suit, and a gaze that could freeze hell over. She was no longer the girl from two years ago; she radiated the powerful, sophisticated aura of a queen. A flock of assistants trailed behind her. She walked like she had her own personal soundtrack. I run this town, I do as I please, the world is at my feet. I run this town, I never, ever look back. Every eye was on her. The next second, I let out a massive sneeze. Was she trying to fumigate the office with that perfume? Every head swiveled in my direction. To maintain my “married dad” persona, I was currently sporting a puffy black down jacket with a pair of tacky, floral-print oversleeves. Victoria’s gaze landed on me, and she let out a small, contemptuous scoff. “If I recall correctly, this is the only employee in the entire company who never works overtime.” She made a show of flipping through the work logs in her hand. “What’s the problem? Is the overtime pay not good enough? We offer a bonus, comp time, and we even reimburse your cab fare. Mr. Sterling, do you have a problem with the company?” “No, Ms. Borstein,” I replied, my face a blank mask. An older colleague, seeing the new boss was singling me out, rushed over to smooth things over. “Ms. Borstein, you don’t understand, Asher has it really rough.” My stomach dropped. Oh no. But it was too late. My colleague grabbed my sleeve and yanked it up. A prominent scrape was on full display. …The truth was, I got wasted with my buddies at a bar last night and took a spill on my way out. “You see, Ms. Borstein? Asher has to be home on time every single day to cook for his wife and kid. If he’s late… well.” She trailed off, looking at me with profound pity. The implication hung heavy in the air. My toes curled in embarrassment. But I’d made my bed, and now I had to lie in it. I closed my eyes, resigned to my fate, and nodded. “That’s right. If I don’t get home on time to make dinner, my wife beats me.” I looked up and met Victoria’s incredulous gaze. “And that, Ms. Borstein, is why I don’t work overtime.” 3 The papers in Victoria’s hand crumpled, her knuckles turning white. A vein pulsed at her temple. She stared at me, her fury barely contained. “Say that again. Who beats you?” “His wife! Ms. Borstein, you have no idea, the woman is a monster!” another colleague chimed in, and suddenly the whole office was buzzing with sympathy for me. My older colleague was a notorious gossip. Most of the “evil deeds” of my fictional wife were a product of office rumor-mongering. But I couldn’t deny it now. I just lowered my head and picked at my fingers, feeling the burn of their collective pity. I felt like a tragic hero from a soap opera. Victoria’s jaw was clenched tight, her expression growing darker with every whispered comment. Finally, she’d had enough. “That’s enough,” she snapped, her voice cutting through the chatter. “I understand the situation. Everyone, get back to work.” I felt a wave of relief wash over me and tried to slip away, but a hand suddenly clamped down on the back of my neck, grabbing the hood of my jacket. “You,” she said, her voice like ice. “Come with me.” 4 Victoria dragged me by the arm, the air around her crackling with murderous intent. “Ms. Borstein, where are you taking me? Couldn’t we have talked back there?” “What? Does the boss need your permission on where to conduct a meeting now?” “…Right. You’re the boss. You’re the biggest.” The second we were inside her office, the door slammed shut with a deafening bang. The next thing I knew, I was pinned against it. Her eyes were dark, burning into me, her chest heaving. I slowly turned my head away. “Ms. Borstein, this is highly inappropriate.” “Hah. Ms. Borstein?” she scoffed, a bitter laugh escaping her. “When things were good, you called me ‘baby.’ Now that you’ve got someone new, it’s ‘Ms. Borstein.’” Okay, I take back what I said about her being mature. She was just as childish as ever. “Should I call you ‘boss’ then?” I tried to create some space between us. “Boss, I’m a married man. I have a wife and a child. What you’re doing right now constitutes workplace harassment.” Victoria froze for a second, then let out a cold, humorless laugh and released me. “Asher, you dump me, and two years later, you’re in such a rush that you marry a piece of trash like that?” I had no response. I just offered a polite smile. She slumped into her office chair, tugging at the collar of her blouse, looking utterly defeated. “Who was it that swore they would never, ever get married?” “You know what they say. You don’t know what you’re missing ’til you meet the one,” I spouted, pulling the cliché out of thin air. “And your ‘one’ beats you?” “…” I was speechless. She continued, her voice rising. “Everyone in your office knows your wife hits you. Every day you practically sprint out of there, terrified of being late with dinner. You said that, didn’t you?” “…Yes, that’s what I said.” “Then why are you still defending her?” “…She’s nice to me when she’s not hitting me.” Victoria stared at me, her eyes a mixture of pain and anger. “What happened to you? The old you wouldn’t have blinked while kicking me to the curb. And since when do you cook? I used to thank God you didn’t burn the kitchen down. It’s only been two years. Where did that ruthless bastard I knew go? You told me you were against marriage, but you managed to have a kid with this psycho in two years? What, was I just the wrong season for you?” I silently retracted my earlier thought about being a tragic hero. Clearly, she was the one auditioning for the part. “Ms. Borstein,” I interrupted. She looked up at me, her expression pitiful, as if she were waiting for an explanation. Unfortunately, I had none to give. I curved my lips into a small smile. “It’s quitting time. I should get home and start dinner.” “Asher Sterling!” she seethed, her voice shaking with rage. “I hate you.” “Hate away. Just don’t dock my pay.” “Goodbye, Ms. Borstein.” I closed the office door gently behind me and walked away without looking back. 5 The next few days were quiet. Victoria didn’t bother me again. I was secretly pleased. It seemed the “married dad” persona was also an effective ex-girlfriend repellent. Until one rainy afternoon, when I was stranded on a street corner, unable to hail a cab. A Porsche pulled up beside me. The window rolled down. Victoria was leaning back in the driver’s seat, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “Pouring rain, and your dear wife didn’t come to pick you up?” “She’s busy with work,” I said dismissively. “Hah, how busy can she be?” she sneered. “A happy wife means a happy life, haven’t you heard? A miserable wife brings a miserable life.” “Right, right. Not everyone can be as enlightened as you. You must have taken a masterclass in wifely duties.” My retort seemed to hit a nerve. She frowned. “Asher, with that sharp tongue of yours, how could anyone possibly bully you?” I was in no mood to argue. I just opened the door and slid in. “Let’s go. South Orchid Apartments.” “Who said I was giving you a ride?” Still playing tough. She’d already circled the block three times. And I’d already spotted two large boxes in the back seat: a limited-edition giant Gundam model and a complete Barbie doll set. “You’ve already bought presents for my kid. Still want to pretend you weren’t going to give me a lift?” Caught, the tips of her ears turned red. She looked away, clearing her throat. “I did the math. The kid isn’t yours, is it?” she asked, her voice full of false confidence. “You married a divorcée? Is the little freeloader a boy or a girl?” “He’s mine,” I said, my voice serious. “My son.” I paused, then delivered the final, crushing blow. “He’s only a little over a year old, though. Too young for a Gundam.” Victoria’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. She took a sharp breath, and when she spoke again, her voice trembled. “Asher, we broke up two years ago… and your son is over a year old. Are you telling me you got with her the second we broke up?” Her eyes were already starting to glisten. I sighed. “Maybe we should drop it. I’m afraid you’re going to start crying.” She slammed her foot on the gas, and the car shot forward. The rest of the drive was silent. By the time we reached my apartment building, she looked like an angry, puffed-up blowfish. Before I got out, I said, “Let’s just let the past be the past. I’m happy to see you’re a big-shot CEO now. Goodbye.” 6 The first thing I saw when I got home was the overturned cat food bowl. And lying next to it, my fat cat, giving me the dirtiest look imaginable. “Alright, alright, I’m sorry. The rain was bad, I was only a little late. Don’t be mad, Your Majesty.” I opened a can of wet food and mixed it into his kibble, then placed it reverently on his little dining stand. A few minutes later, my phone rang. It was Victoria, her voice cold. “You forgot the presents for your kid.” I glanced at my cat, who was busy inhaling his dinner. “It’s fine. He’d probably just break them anyway.” “Asher,” she said, her voice suddenly serious. “Yeah?” “Divorce your wife. I’ll be your wife instead.” I was stunned for a few seconds, then laughed. “Ms. Borstein, you’re harassing me again.” “Then sue me! I’m going crazy!” Her voice suddenly shot up, filled with a raw, desperate frustration. “I’m downstairs right now, looking at the light in your window, thinking about you living with another woman… and I just want to come up there and shoot her.” Such a drama queen. Always with the threats. “You seem to be forgetting, your highness,” I said drily, “You’re back from the States. We have gun control here.” “…Can you be serious for one second?” “Fine, go ahead. The sooner you’re done, the sooner you can go home.” “Divorce her. I’ll raise the kid. I promise I’ll treat him like my own. If you don’t believe me, I’ll go get sterilized right now.” Silence from my end. She grew more agitated. “The kid can have your last name, and I’ll take the kid’s last name. How about that?” “Impressive,” I finally said, wanting to applaud. “Why don’t you just take my wife’s last name?” The other end of the line went silent. A few seconds later, I heard a sniffle, then her voice, laced with venom. “Asher Sterling, you don’t even treat me like a human being.” The line went dead with a sharp click. I let out a long breath. They say you’ll be haunted for a lifetime by the thing you couldn’t have when you were young. But sometimes, a single moment can set you free from that obsession. It’s true for things, and it’s true for people. A memory is just a memory. It has no power. 7 When Victoria and I were at our best, we were both fresh out of college. We were young, broke, and running on love alone. We were crammed into a tiny rental, inseparable the moment we got home from work. From the living room to the bedroom, from the bedroom to the bathroom. We were disgustingly, intoxicatingly in love. By the time we finally collapsed into bed, I was too exhausted to even move. She would lie beside me, twirling a strand of my hair, her eyes sparkling. “Baby, I have to be honest with you. I’m actually a down-and-out heiress. I ran away because I hated the life my father planned for me. You’re so amazing, you don’t mind that I’m poor.” “And even though I love being crammed in this tiny apartment with you, when we get married, we’ll have to get a big mansion, right? Do you like sports cars? Oh, no, that’s a bad idea, they’re too fast. We’ll get you a chauffeur instead.” I was so tired my head was spinning. I just assumed she was delirious, murmuring “uh-huh, sure” to whatever she said. After all, I was with her for her looks. For a beautiful woman, being poor was a plus. So I never took her words seriously. Until she started acting strange. She was always frowning, lost in thought. She started taking calls in secret, hiding her phone. My conclusion was immediate: she was cheating on me. I could handle a poor, beautiful woman. I could not handle a dirty, unfaithful one. One night, while she was asleep, I secretly jotted down the number that had been calling her so frequently. Worried the other guy was being played, I even sent him a message, telling him Victoria had a boyfriend. To my surprise, he asked to meet. The person who showed up was Victoria’s father.

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My fifth miscarriage happened in my thirty-fifth year. Our marriage, worn thin by mutual exhaustion, finally reached its end. We signed the divorce papers quietly, without a fight. It wasn’t long before my ex-husband, William, was with a college girl in her early twenties. She got pregnant almost immediately. When I moved out of the mansion that was once a symbol of our happiness, only his assistant was there to help. He was a handsome young man, sharp and fit in tailored trousers, hauling heavy boxes back and forth, his brow glistening with a light sweat. I felt the weight of the bank card in my purse, the one with the nine-figure settlement, and a wild, reckless thought sparked in my mind. “Lucas,” I called out to him. “Have you ever considered working for me instead?” “I’ll pay you fifty thousand a month.” The moment the words left my mouth, I regretted them. He was an educated, respectable young man. Why would he ever agree to something like this? But to my utter shock, Lucas took a step closer, his expression perfectly serious. “Yes, Audrey,” he said without hesitation. “I’d love to.” 1 A sheen of sweat still clung to Lucas’s face, making his fair skin seem almost luminous. A strange pang of guilt hit me. “I’m sorry, Lucas. That was out of line. Please, just forget I said anything.” He was only twenty-six. What in the world was I doing? The divorce from William must have scrambled my brain more than I thought. I let out a quiet sigh, missing the flicker of disappointment in Lucas’s eyes. After the last box was loaded into the moving truck, I took one final look at the house behind me. I had poured my soul into this place after William and I married. From the interior design to the landscaping, every inch was a testament to my love for him. I truly believed we would spend the rest of our lives here. I never imagined it would all be over in just fifteen years. Unlike other wealthy men, it was I who had asked for the divorce. In fifteen years of marriage, he had been good to me, for the most part. Every three years, like clockwork, I would get pregnant. And every time, around the fourth or fifth month, I would lose the baby. This last time, we were pathologically careful. He even washed my underwear for me. But despite all the painstaking effort, all it took was a single sneeze, and the baby was gone. In that moment, something inside me died. My heart was a landscape of ash, incapable of producing even the faintest spark. I told William we should just get a divorce. He was still under forty; he could find another woman, have all the children he wanted. That night, his eyes were red-rimmed and sleepless. The next day, he handed me a prepared divorce agreement. He gave me a third of his five-billion-dollar fortune. On top of that, two estates upstate and a five-story commercial building downtown were transferred to my name. To be fair, he didn’t cheat me. We went through the proceedings peacefully. After signing the final document, he pulled me into a hug. “Audrey,” he whispered, “if there’s a next life, let’s be together again.” His words felt like a thousand tiny needles piercing my heart. I almost broke, almost begged him to take it all back, to forget the divorce, to adopt a child instead. But the very next day, I brought a thermos of homemade chicken soup to his office, only to see him walking into the building with his arm wrapped protectively around a young woman in her early twenties. She had a small, rounded belly, already further along than I had ever been. I couldn’t name the feeling that washed over me. It was a bitter cocktail of dark humor and sharp pain. I sat on a bench across the street for the entire morning, lost in a daze, until Lucas found me and gently called my name. I fled, humiliated. After I moved out, I couldn’t resist hiring a private investigator. I learned the girl’s name was Jessica, a new intern at William’s company. Her fluent French had landed her a few translation gigs for him. A few business trips together, and one thing had led to another. But Jessica had standards. Even pregnant, she made it clear she would never be his mistress. William, utterly besotted, set her up in a luxury downtown apartment. The moment our divorce was finalized, he moved her into our old home. He hired a butler, a chauffeur, two nannies, and two maids, all to ensure she had the most comfortable pregnancy possible. I sat in my new, empty apartment, staring at the investigator’s report and drinking bottle after bottle of wine. I drank until my stomach seized in protest, until I was finally forced to admit the truth. I had lost. I had lost a game I never even knew I was playing, in a relationship that was rotten to the core. And I had been completely, utterly blind to it all. 2 Divorced. But life had to go on. My entire adult life had been dedicated to being the perfect Mrs. Knight. I’d mastered the arts of social grace and catering to a man’s every need. Now, suddenly flush with cash and stripped of my husband, I had no idea what to do with myself. Out of habit, I went to the grocery store and filled a cart with all of William’s favorite foods. It was only at the checkout that I remembered we were divorced. I went home and numbly made a pot of soup, then poured it all down the drain. Then I sat by the window and stared into space. What were William and Jessica doing now? With a baby on the way, they were probably reading to her belly, playing classical music for the child. William would be a good father. He deserved to be. When I first met him, he was just a sophomore in college. He wasn’t old, but he carried himself with an incredible intensity. We were on competing teams in a business plan competition. He annihilated my team. It was brutal. And it was that day I fell for the brilliant, driven young man with the gold-rimmed glasses who always came in first. Our first year together was a blur of youthful passion. One night, we were careless. We had our first child. But he had nothing back then, and my parents would never let me marry a man with no prospects. After a night spent crying in each other’s arms, we made the heartbreaking decision to terminate the pregnancy. After that, my body changed. I became prone to miscarriages. Every pregnancy ended in loss. William poured immense effort into fixing it. He took me to traditional healers and top specialists, all in an attempt to heal my body. We tried for fifteen years. In the end, we were left with nothing. Staring at the gloomy sky outside, I couldn’t help but wonder if this was my punishment. A curse from our first child, because I didn’t fight hard enough to keep him. Was that why I was no longer worthy of being a mother? An unbearable sorrow washed over me. I pressed my forehead against the cold glass, and the tears finally came. 3 From that day on, my mental state deteriorated. I grew so disoriented that I’d slip back into the past, thinking William and I were still married. One afternoon, I drove to his office on autopilot. The security guard at the front desk stopped me. I just stood there, confused, not fully processing the situation. “You say you’re Mrs. Knight?” the guard scoffed. “Don’t make me laugh. The real Mrs. Knight just went inside.” He gestured toward Jessica’s retreating back. “See that? The boss’s wife is young and beautiful. Not… whatever you are.” His voice wasn’t loud, but it was enough to draw stares from passersby. Their sharp, curious glances felt like tiny daggers on my skin, making my cheeks burn with shame. I overheard employees who recognized me whispering. “Isn’t that his first wife? The one he kicked out because she couldn’t have kids.” “I saw her not too long ago, she didn’t look this rough. What happened? She looks like she’s aged twenty years.” I scrambled to a reflective surface and stared at my reflection. They were right. The woman staring back was a ghost, a hollowed-out horror. I fled, my heart pounding in my chest. Before I could even make sense of it all, my phone rang. It was William. His tone was colder and sharper than I had ever heard it. “Audrey, I heard you came by the office today.” My thoughts were a tangled mess. A wave of pathetic self-pity washed over me. “Yes,” I mumbled. “I… I just missed you.” “William, I regret it. I shouldn’t have…” Divorced you. He cut me off before I could finish. “Audrey, I gave you everything you were owed. Do you have any idea what you’re doing?” His voice was laced with ice. “My wife is pregnant. She’s only six months along. You’ve been pregnant. You know how important it is for her to be stress-free right now.” “And what do you do? You show up at my office, making a scene. What is it? Just because you couldn’t carry a baby to term, you want to make her lose hers too?” Before I could even form a defense, he hung up. A moment later, a text message buzzed on my phone. [I’ve sent you another fifty million. Take the money and get the hell out of my life.] The number in my bank account was a string of cold, meaningless zeros. I covered my face with my hands, unable to make a sound. The apartment felt like a cage. William’s cruel words echoed in my head. I grabbed my car keys and drove, ending up at the first bar I saw. And that’s where I found Lucas. Off the clock, he was dressed in a casual shirt and jeans, a lock of hair falling across his forehead, making him look even younger. He was with a group of guys who looked about his age. They were all chattering away, but he sat in the middle of it all, silent and still. I don’t know what possessed me, but my feet started moving on their own. I had barely reached their table when one of his friends spoke up, his eyes glinting with amusement. “Ma’am, can we help you?” 4 His tone was mocking. In a place like this, pulsing with music and desire, what else could a woman approaching a group of young men want? I ignored him and met Lucas’s gaze. “Lucas,” I said, my voice steadier than I felt. “About my offer the other day. Is it still on the table?” This time, Lucas didn’t respond with the same instant eagerness. His dark eyes studied my face for a long moment. “Are you sure this time, Audrey? This isn’t just another impulse?” I nodded. “I’m sure.” “And one more thing. I’m divorced. It’s Ms. Thorne now.” A slow smile spread across his face as he pushed his tongue against the inside of his cheek. In one fluid motion, he reached out, grabbed my arm, and pulled me into his lap. I was instantly enveloped in his scent, a clean, masculine energy that was both overwhelming and intoxicating. His body was firm and well-defined, the muscles of his chest solid beneath my palm. He took my hand, his voice a low murmur against my ear. “You have to be sure, Audrey. Because this time, once you buy, there are no returns.” He leaned in closer, his presence suddenly powerful, almost predatory. And for the first time in what felt like an eternity, my dead, silent heart gave a strange, fluttery beat. On pure instinct, my hand went up, my fingers curling around the back of his neck. I kissed him. His lips were warm and soft. After more than a decade as a housewife, I had almost forgotten what this felt like. A single kiss was enough to ignite a fire I thought had long since burned out. If we hadn’t been in a crowded bar, surrounded by people, things would have escalated very, very quickly. Lucas cupped the back of my head, his thumb stroking my cheek as he gently licked the corner of my mouth. “Wow, Audrey,” he whispered, his breath hot against my skin. “You’re good. I almost lost control.” His friends stared, their jaws on the floor. The one who had mocked me earlier just stammered, unable to form a single word. I tossed a wad of cash on the table for them to enjoy their night. Then I took Lucas by the hand and led him straight to a hotel. 5 That night was a blur of frenzied passion. We were so wrapped up in each other that Lucas was late for work the next morning. There was a crucial meeting at Knight Industries that he was supposed to lead. William’s call came while Lucas was still in my bed. “Hello, Mr. Knight.” “Where the hell are you? The meeting starts in thirty minutes!” Lucas shot me a chagrined look. “My apologies, sir. I’m on my way.” He hung up, threw on his clothes, and rushed out the door. I got up and took a long, slow shower, feeling my senses gradually return. I had just slept with a man nine years my junior. The feeling was strange… and exhilarating. It was the delicious, terrifying thrill of a good girl trying on a corset for the first time. As promised, I transferred a million dollars to Lucas’s account. A moment later, a message from him appeared on my phone. [?] I typed back: [Your allowance.] He replied: […Thank you, boss.] It was followed by a smiling puppy emoji. I looked at it, and a slow smile spread across my own face. As I was checking out of the hotel, I found myself drawn to the boutique next door. I bought a pile of lingerie I never would have dared to wear before. As I passed the dress section, the sales associate saw the look in my eye. “Are you looking for something special? We just got our new collection in. It has a very chic, effortless vibe. Absolutely perfect for a woman with your… sophistication.” She was good. Before I knew it, I had bought several more dresses. When I tried on a long, pink slip dress, I hesitated. “Isn’t this… a little too young for me? I’m thirty-five.” The associate shook her head emphatically. “Not at all! It looks stunning on you. And listen, this isn’t a girly, bubblegum pink. It’s a sophisticated dogwood blush, perfect for a woman with your experience. It suits you perfectly.” “It might feel a little off right now because you don’t have your makeup or hair done,” she continued, her voice full of encouragement. “But if you got some long, soft curls? With your features, you could be a movie star.” Her words worked their magic. After buying the clothes, I went straight to a salon and had my hair done. Back home, I spread all my new purchases out on the bed. After a long moment, I made a decision. I packed up all my old, “appropriate” clothes, the ones that screamed “sensible wife.” Every single one went into a donation bag. My drab, matronly pajamas and underwear? Thrown in the trash. As I looked around, even the apartment started to feel wrong. I picked up my phone and called a real estate agent. “Hello? I’m looking for a villa.” A few days later, I moved into a house even bigger than the one I had shared with William. 6 I hired a new design firm and redecorated the entire house from top to bottom. I was so busy that I didn’t have time to see Lucas. He had tried to give me some space, but after a few days of silence, he sent me a message. “Hey, boss. What are you up to?” I replied: “Gardening.” It was a hobby I’d had for over a decade, a hard habit to break. So when Lucas finally tracked me down, he found me in a flowing new dress, on my hands and knees, pulling weeds in the garden. He couldn’t help but laugh. “Audrey, what is this?” I realized, with a start, that it probably looked a little strange. After changing my clothes, I took him out to dinner. It was my first time eating out with a man who wasn’t William, and it felt a little awkward. Lucas placed a hand on the small of my back to guide me. Seeing my discomfort, a smile played on his lips. “Audrey, you’re the rich one here,” he whispered. “You’re the one paying my bills. Act like it. Own it.” “…Right,” I said. I had absolutely no experience in this whole “sugar mama” thing. My instincts were to take care of him, to pay attention to what he liked to eat. Lucas watched me, then suddenly chuckled. “You’ve got the money, but you don’t have the attitude,” he observed. “Why is that? Isn’t a nine-figure bank account enough to give you a little swagger?” I’d forgotten he was the one who handled the divorce papers. He knew exactly how much I was worth. I touched my nose, feeling a little self-conscious. “Honestly, Lucas… I got together with your old boss when I was twenty-one. He’s the only man I’ve ever been with.” “Before we were married, my parents’ world revolved around my younger brother. They were never really satisfied with me. After I got with William, everywhere we went, people only ever praised him. I was invisible. Plus, I’ve never been that interested in money. It’s just… hard to switch gears and act like a big shot overnight.” Lucas rested his chin on his hand, studying me for a long time. Then he leaned in close, his eyes narrowed with mock seriousness. “Oh no, Audrey. We have a problem.” Thinking something was wrong, I leaned in too, my voice hushed. “What is it?” He quickly pecked me on the lips. “You’re just too damn beautiful.” A hot blush instantly spread across my face. 7 Younger men really know what they’re doing. Lucas showered me with sweet nothings day in and day out, and over time, he actually managed to coax a bit of a pampered, playful side out of me. That, combined with a very fulfilling nightlife, brought a healthy glow back to my cheeks. Sometimes, I’d catch my reflection and even I had to admit, I looked pretty good. The high-society circle in this city is small. Even after the divorce, some invitations were unavoidable. Case in point: the wife of one of William’s business partners was having a birthday party, and she invited both of us. I didn’t want to go, but she called me repeatedly, insisting. So, I decided to make a brief appearance. I put on some light makeup, slipped into the pink dress I’d bought, and took a cab to the Gables’ estate. As soon as I walked in, I saw a familiar group of society wives clustered around Jessica, fawning over her. “Oh, you must be due any day now! And I can just tell, it’s a boy.” Jessica smiled shyly. “Yes, we had it checked. It’s a boy.” One of the women, Mrs. Chen, was particularly sycophantic. “See? You’re the lucky one. Not like William’s last wife. Old, plain, and couldn’t even keep a baby. If you ask me, William was too kind. I would have kicked her out years ago.” I hadn’t realized so many people were eager to kick me when I was down, even after a “peaceful” divorce. What shocked me more was that William was standing right there, listening to it all, and didn’t say a single word to defend me. It was Mrs. Gable, the hostess, who finally intervened, smoothly changing the subject. Just as they were discussing what kind of baby bottles to buy for William’s son, someone finally noticed me. The woman’s eyes widened in surprise. “Are you… Mrs. Knight?” I offered a gentle smile. “William and I are divorced. You can just call me Audrey.” A wave of disbelief washed over the group. Everyone stared at me. Even William. A flicker of stunned admiration crossed his face. “Audrey?” “Yes,” I nodded, handing my gift to the hostess. “Mrs. Gable, happy birthday. I have another engagement, so I won’t be staying long.” After a polite nod to the group, I turned and walked out of the party. I had just reached the end of the driveway when I heard someone call my name from behind. I turned. It was William.

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