Author: Momo Chan

My divorce battle with Lawson had been dragging on for six months. We’d gone from the couple everyone envied to the couple everyone pitied. Thirty minutes before the third hearing, Lawson asked to meet me. He pressed his fingers against his temples, exhaustion written all over his face. “It’s time to end this circus. Mia can’t wait any longer.” “Name your price. I’ll pay it.” Before I could say a word, his phone screamed to life. He picked up, and a soft smile spread across his face — the kind he didn’t even notice he was making. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll just give her a little more money.” “I’ll be done soon. Be a good girl and wait for me at home.” I stared at that face — familiar and foreign all at once — and felt something inside me finally let go. “Forget it.” “Lawson, you don’t have to keep fighting this. I’ll agree to the divorce.” The divorce war that had dragged on for six months ended with me walking away. For a moment, everyone was stunned. After all, Lawson and I had been married for seven years. A divorce case that had been crawling along for half a year — most people just assumed we were two people too stubborn to admit they still cared. The media ran wild. Lawson’s official response was perfectly polished: “I apologize for taking up public attention. Eve and I have finalized our divorce, but we remain friends. I wish her nothing but happiness.” My eyes lingered on the word “friends” for a long time. I let out a quiet laugh. Lawson and I had torn each other apart more than once over Mia. We were long past friendship — we couldn’t even hold onto the last scraps of dignity. But today, Lawson was being nicer to me than he’d been in all six months of this. After I gave him my answer, he sat on the couch for a while, slowly packing away the negotiation materials he’d prepared. “If that’s the case, I’ll get the divorce agreement to you as soon as possible.” “As for the company — I’ll leave you twenty percent of the shares as compensation.” “There’s also a property downtown. That’s yours too.” He finished, thought for a moment to make sure he hadn’t missed anything. Then he stood up. Maybe even he thought this had wrapped up suspiciously fast. At the door, he turned his head back. “Take care of yourself. Going forward.” I closed my eyes and said nothing. My attorney sent over the divorce agreement and all the documents. After the files came through, he added a note: “The reason cited for the divorce is irreconcilable differences — a mutual, amicable separation. Under the relevant statutes, aside from what he’s voluntarily gifting you, the remaining assets will be split equally.” Irreconcilable differences. Such a clean way to dress up the word “cheating.” I’d still underestimated just how good Lawson was at keeping up appearances. My phone buzzed. Lawson had sent a photo and a voice message. The photo showed my desk at the office. Everything on it had been swept to the floor. But the voice in the message belonged to a woman. “Eve, I heard you’re leaving. Let me help you clean up all this junk.” Mia. Her voice had that soft, lilting quality — the kind that curled up at the end of every sentence. No wonder people liked her. I held down the voice message, then replied calmly: “I may be leaving, but I’m still the largest shareholder of this company.” “If I wanted to, I could have you and all this junk packed up and thrown out together.” She didn’t respond for a long time. When the next message came through, it was Lawson’s voice — with Mia’s quiet sobbing faintly in the background. “Eve, Mia didn’t mean anything by it. Don’t be like this.” I didn’t bother replying. I gathered my things, stood up, and walked out of the courthouse. On my way to the car, Lawson sent two more messages. He’d put a picture frame back on the desk. “The rest of it can go — it’s all old anyway. But keep this one.” That frame held a landscape photo of the Arctic. Back in the year we started the company, he’d printed it out and made me a promise: “Once we make it through this, I’ll take you to the Arctic. We’ll take a photo just like this one.” Seven years later, Lawson had gone from a nobody to the CEO of one of New York’s most talked-about publicly traded companies. Money, power — all of it within reach. But that little trip to the Arctic? He never brought it up again. Lawson was right. Old things should be thrown away. I didn’t reply. Instead, I tapped on his profile and pressed delete.

I went to the office to complete my resignation paperwork with HR, then got ready to leave. My hand was on the door handle when I heard voices just outside — colleagues passing by. “Seven years of marriage and she just walks away like that. What’s Eve trying to prove?” “Didn’t someone say the divorce was because of cheating? You don’t think it was her, do you?” “Had to be. She must’ve done something behind Lawson’s back. That’s why she caved so fast today.” “I heard Lawson even gave her shares as compensation. He’s honestly too decent for this…” I stood there with my eyes down, not moving. The HR rep shot me an uncomfortable look. “Ms. Eve, they’re just talking — please don’t take it to heart…” Whether it was “just talking,” I knew exactly what it was. I could even guess whose mouth it had come out of. To give Mia’s arrival a reasonable explanation. To protect his girl from the backlash. He chose to push me out front, to let me take the hit for her. Seeing that I hadn’t responded, the HR rep forced a smile. “Everyone knows how much you gave to stand by Lawson’s side. You came from nothing together, built everything from the ground up — people genuinely admired what you two had.” “They don’t know anything. They’re just running their mouths.” “I’ll report it to their manager right now and make sure they’re spoken to.” That made me go quiet again. I was willing to go through the hard times with Lawson because, back then, he really was good to me. He’d buy me the newest clothes without thinking twice, while refusing to replace his own jacket that he’d worn for two years straight. He remembered my birthday, our anniversary — but could never keep track of his own. Our wedding was held in the countryside. It wasn’t extravagant, but it was proper. The best that little town had to offer. He always gave me the best of what he had. So on our anniversary, with the dim, intimate lighting glowing around us — he’d sat staring at the two little figurines kissing on top of our cake and said: “Eve, do you ever think… is this really the life we want?” That was why it hit me so hard. I wasn’t ready to give up. I still believed he loved me. I kept holding onto that belief until I’d ground us both down into something bitter and broken — two people who could barely stand the sight of each other. I held on until he started trying to pay me off. Only then did I let myself give up. I came back to the present and shook my head at the HR rep, then shoved the door open. The colleagues who’d been whispering outside immediately went silent, heads dropping carefully to avoid my eyes. But their reaction wasn’t because of me. It was because of Lawson and Mia, walking toward us from the far end of the hallway.

Mia followed a step behind Lawson, a brand-new badge hanging from her neck. Design Director. The position I had just vacated. She held a stack of documents in her arms, flipping through them uncertainly. Lawson would turn to her every now and then, walking her through the details. His secretary, Lisa, trailed just behind and to the left of them. She was smiling in Mia’s direction, but the irritation and contempt underneath it were impossible to hide anymore. When she spotted me, Lisa stopped short. “Ms. Eve.” At that, Lawson looked over too, whatever he’d been about to say to Mia left unfinished. Mia stood there, and her eyes went red on cue. “Lisa, I know you don’t like me — but Eve has already resigned. Isn’t it a little inappropriate to keep addressing her that way?” “Besides, Eve’s resignation was a personal matter, wasn’t it? Taking out whatever frustration you have over her leaving on me — I really don’t appreciate that…” She put deliberate emphasis on the words “personal matter.” The colleagues who’d been whispering exchanged glances, their expressions settling into something more certain than before. Lisa stood there, at a loss for words. I folded my resignation form and spoke up, completely unbothered. “Lisa was just being polite. Why are you making such a big deal out of it?” “And for the record — I never said anything about why I resigned. Spreading assumptions like that, Mia? That’s the part that I find inappropriate.” Mia’s face went pale. She started to say something, but Lawson put a hand out — not hard, just enough to stop her. His gaze settled on me. “This is on me. Let me take you out sometime — a proper send-off.” “You’ve put in so many years. What you’ve contributed here matters.” I smiled. “Don’t bother. If I’d known anyone could fill this seat, I wouldn’t have worked myself half to death for it.” Lawson’s expression shifted. I had no interest in watching it. I turned and walked away. Outside, a light rain had started. I raised a hand to shield myself, and it hit me — the day everything between me and Lawson finally broke apart had been exactly like this. Gray and drizzling. I’d been pulling an all-nighter at the office and my blood sugar had crashed past midnight. I called Lawson and asked him to bring something to eat. Instead, a woman’s voice answered. That was the first time I let go of all the composure I’d been carefully holding together. I heard myself demand an answer. Why is she answering your phone? How dare you let some woman come this close? Lawson, what exactly do you want? A long silence on the other end. Then a quiet exhale. That one sound was enough to drain the warmth from half my heart. “I’ll have Lisa bring you something to eat.” “Get some rest tonight. Tomorrow — we need to talk about a divorce.” I sat alone in the empty office, shaking with cold. “On what grounds, Lawson? Don’t forget — I helped build this company from nothing. You have no right to—” He cut me off, his voice light as air. “Without me, no one would have hired a designer with your history.” Every word left me instantly. Years ago, I’d been caught up in a plagiarism scandal — someone in the industry had accused me of stealing their concept. My company fired me on the spot, and the label stuck. I was blacklisted across the entire field. I had nowhere to go. Lawson — who’d been pursuing me at the time — reached out and pulled me back up. He said he believed me. He said someone that talented didn’t deserve to be buried. In that moment, I genuinely fell for him. Naive and foolish enough to trust him completely. During the six months of our divorce proceedings, my authority at the company had been quietly hollowed out piece by piece. The team I’d built and mentored was reassigned to other departments. The Director position wasn’t something just anyone could walk into. Lawson had to clear a lot of road for Mia to get there. More than half of my leaving was anything but voluntary. I came back to myself. Lisa had followed me outside at some point without my noticing. She held out an umbrella, speaking quietly. “Eve — this is from Mr. Lawson. The rain makes the roads slippery. Please be safe.” I smiled at her, but didn’t take it. I walked out into the rain. I’d gotten through worse storms than this. A little drizzle was nothing.

What I didn’t expect was that what happened outside the HR office that day made it onto the internet. Within hours, the topic of my conflict with Mia was trending at the top of the charts. At first, people speculated that Mia had broken up my marriage — that she was the reason things fell apart between Lawson and me. Then a video hit the trending page. An “exposé,” analyzing me. It laid out my schedule, my movements, and everyone I’d been in contact with over the past six months in meticulous detail. Some of the specifics were disturbingly accurate. The comment section turned against me almost immediately. An avalanche of insults and mockery came crashing down. I watched that video from beginning to end. Most of the personal details were real. But every interpretation was fabricated. There was only one person who could know my private life that precisely. I called Lawson’s number. Mia picked up. “You’re divorced and you’re still calling your ex? God, Eve, have some self-respect.” “Aren’t you getting enough hate online? You want more, so you came to me?” Her voice was nothing like the version she performed in front of Lawson. I kept my face blank. “I recorded everything you just said. Slander without evidence — get ready for a letter from my attorney.” “You—” I hung up before she could finish. I pulled up the page again. The hate had intensified. I clicked on the profile of the account that had posted the video. Sure enough — within the thirty minutes since I’d hung up, they’d posted an update. This time, the post made it explicit: I was the one who had betrayed the marriage. They compiled a file. Everything from the old plagiarism scandal — the accusations, the blacklisting, the full story — laid out for public consumption. The comment section erupted. Once a thief, always a thief — stole someone’s work back then, now stealing someone’s man. Everything she has came from Lawson. And she still cheated? Unbelievable. You can just tell by looking at her. If she’d plagiarize someone’s work, of course she’d cheat. Reading those words, I felt like I’d been dragged back ten years — back to the most helpless stretch of my life. I opened Lawson’s friend request, the one he’d sent two days ago. My hand trembled as I hit accept. I sent him a message. Lawson. The video online — that was you, wasn’t it? He replied fast. Eve, you’re the largest shareholder of the Carter Group now. You have more money than you could ever spend. But Mia just started — she can’t afford any negative press right now. I took a slow breath. You know I never plagiarized anything. The “typing” indicator sat there for a long time. Then his message appeared. No one cares about that anymore. Let it run its course and it’ll die down on its own. Stop being so precious about it. Ten years ago, Lawson held me and swore that even if the whole world turned against me, he never would. Ten years later, Lawson was telling me the truth didn’t matter. That no one cared. I read that message, and whatever last shred of hope I’d been holding onto quietly disappeared. Then the doorbell rang. Through the peephole, I saw a cluster of dark camera lenses pointed directly at my front door. Reporters’ voices overlapped outside. “Ms. Eve — Lawson just denied that Mia had anything to do with your divorce. What’s your response?” “Is the video circulating online accurate? Are you the one who was unfaithful?” “Can you comment on the plagiarism incident from ten years ago?” My phone lit up with a large transfer notification from Lawson. The memo said: compensation. I let out a breath and closed the app. I opened the front door. The cameras went off like a lightning storm. I stepped into the flashbulbs, looked directly into the nearest lens, and smiled. “Good afternoon. I’m Eve.”

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Ethan Thorne, at the lavish baby shower for his son from an affair, announced to all the high-society guests that he was sending my ten-year-old daughter, Lily, to boarding school in Switzerland, all just to impress his new love. He looked down at me, advising condescendingly, “Sending Lily abroad is for her own good. Don’t be unreasonable and affect my relationship with my wife.” I clutched the cold steak knife, staring at his hypocritical face, and suddenly laughed. He still didn’t know. Three years ago, the woman he personally poisoned to death—Eleanor Hayes—was his true wife. And I am Eleanor’s twin sister, Natalie Hayes. For three years, I’ve endured humiliation and suffering, solely to protect the only remaining trace of my sister in this world: her daughter. Since Ethan is practically begging for his downfall, it’s time to settle all our scores – past and present. Today was the celebration party for Serena Davies, Ethan’s executive assistant, being promoted to Group Vice President. He had specially booked the entire top-floor ballroom of the hotel. All the prominent figures in the corporate world were in attendance. He sat at the head of the main table, the usual cold, ruthless look of a corporate mogul replaced by an expression of pure tenderness as he gazed at the delicate Serena Davies beside him. And I, Ethan’s legally recognized wife, was relegated to a table in a quiet corner. I watched this ridiculous charade with a detached gaze. Beneath my blouse, my chest was still wrapped in thick gauze. Three weeks ago, the company’s overseas project ran into trouble, and the opposing party hired people to ambush him one night. I took a knife for him. The wound was so deep, you could see the bone. But the first thing he asked when he woke up was if Serena Davies had been scared. “Mrs. Thorne, Mr. Thorne is asking you to join him for a toast.” His assistant’s voice interrupted my thoughts. I looked at the glass of red wine on the table, already cold, and didn’t move. The music in the ballroom stopped. Ethan raised his glass, his gaze sweeping over the crowd before landing coldly on me. “Ellie, today is Serena’s big day. As the lady of the Thorne house, you should offer her a toast.” I looked up, meeting his eyes directly. “My wound hasn’t healed yet. I can’t drink.” At my words, the entire ballroom fell silent. Serena gently tugged on Ethan’s sleeve, her eyes instantly welling up. Her voice was so fragile, it sounded like it might disappear with a whisper. “Ethan, it’s all my fault. Ellie must still be angry with me, angry that I held this celebration. I should apologize to her right away…” With that, she actually stood up, feigning an apology. Ethan pulled her back into her chair, his face abruptly darkening. “Eleanor Hayes! How long are you going to keep this up?” His voice was low but filled with undisguised fury. “Serena is under a lot of work pressure and her health isn’t great. I just wanted her to be happy. You’ve been riding horses and skiing since you were a kid; you’re tough as nails. What’s a little stab wound? Do you have to embarrass me today?” Tough as nails? What’s a little stab wound? I forced a smile, finding it utterly absurd. Three years ago, my sister, Eleanor Hayes, was pregnant. In this very ballroom, Serena suddenly fainted. A private doctor claimed she suffered from heart palpitations and weakness. A psychic even emphatically declared that the baby Eleanor was carrying would bring Serena bad luck. Ethan believed it. He personally brought her that so-called prenatal supplement and forced Eleanor to drink it. “Ellie,” he said, “you have a strong constitution; you can have more children later. But Serena, she’s delicate, she won’t be able to handle it.” Eleanor died that winter night. Even on her deathbed, she clutched my hand and made me promise to look after Ethan for her. And now, he was using the same excuse to trample on “Eleanor Hayes’” dignity. I hadn’t even spoken, but Ethan had already lost his patience. He slammed his hand on the table, making a champagne flute topple and red wine spill everywhere. “Today, I have an important announcement to make.” He scanned the room, his gaze finally landing on the side of my table. There sat my ten-year-old daughter, Lily. “Lily is ten now; it’s time she learned independence. I’ve already arranged for her to attend boarding school in Switzerland. She’ll study there and won’t need to come home for holidays; the school will handle everything.” Boom— A collective gasp of shock rippled through the ballroom. Everyone stared at Ethan in astonishment. Lily was only ten. This so-called Swiss boarding school was just a way to send Lily far away, to abandon her in a foreign place where she’d have no one and be forgotten. Lily’s small face instantly turned pale. She clutched my sleeve in terror, trembling uncontrollably. “Mom… I don’t want to go… I’m scared…” I reached back and squeezed her cold little hand, then slowly stood up. The knife wound on my chest tore open from the abrupt movement, warm blood seeping through the gauze and staining my white blouse. But I felt no pain. I stared intently at Ethan, asking each word distinctly. “What did you say? Where are you sending Lily?”

Ethan looked at me, his brows tightly furrowed, a flicker of impatience in his eyes. “That school is the top private institution in Europe; countless children from elite families would kill to get in. Lily studying there will only benefit her future.” “I’m her father. Do you think I’d harm her? This is your overprotective love, and it’s ruining her prospects.” “The bigger picture, Ellie. As the lady of the Thorne house, you should understand what sacrifices need to be made more than anyone.” The bigger picture. Always the bigger picture. He forced Eleanor to her death to preserve his beloved’s “bigger picture.” Later, he stripped me of my management authority in the corporation to appease shareholders – the “bigger picture.” And now, he wants to abandon his ten-year-old daughter in a foreign country without a second thought, all for the “bigger picture.” I was so angry I laughed, my voice piercingly harsh in the empty ballroom. “The bigger picture? Ethan, you’re willing to throw your ten-year-old daughter to the wolves in a foreign country just to please another woman, and you call that ‘the bigger picture’? What a truly devoted father you are!” “Shut up!” Ethan erupted in fury, slamming to his feet and pointing at me. “Eleanor Hayes, how dare you speak to me like that?!” Serena, feigning fear, shrank behind Ethan, advising in a sugary voice, “Ellie, Ethan is just thinking about the child’s well-being. Lily staying here, seeing us like this, wouldn’t be good for her development. How can you be so selfish, only thinking of yourself and not wanting to let go of her, without considering her future?” I spun around, my gaze like a sharp blade piercing Serena. “For her well-being?” I walked step by step towards the main table, glaring at her. “If you’re so concerned about children, your daughter, Isabella Thorne, is already fifteen. She should see the world, so why not send her?” Serena’s face paled, and she shook her head frantically. “Isabella… she’s not well. She can’t handle hardship. And… and Ethan said Lily needs the training more…” “Lily needs the training more?” I scoffed. “Aren’t you always bragging to people that the Thorne family will eventually be yours, that you’re the one Ethan truly cares about? So, when it comes to making sacrifices, why are you suddenly remembering that Lily is the legitimate Thorne daughter?” Serena was speechless, reduced to hiding behind Ethan, sobbing softly. “Ethan, look at her… I was only trying to help, and she’s humiliating me like this in front of everyone…” Ethan protectively shielded her, his gaze towards me colder than ice. “Eleanor Hayes, I’m not discussing this with you today; this is a decision!” He waved his hand, and an assistant, trembling, presented a document to me. “Mrs. Thorne, this is the school enrollment agreement. Please sign it.” Lily cried and rushed forward, clutching Ethan’s leg tightly. “Daddy! Please don’t send me away! I promise I’ll be good and never make you angry again! Daddy…” Ethan didn’t even glance at her, coldly pushing her away. “Guards, take Lily upstairs! No one is to see her without my permission!” “I’d like to see who dares!” I snarled, pulling Lily behind me. The lethal aura from years of special forces training instantly erupted, forcing the bodyguards who were about to advance to take a collective step back. Ethan narrowed his eyes, staring at me dangerously. “Eleanor Hayes, are you trying to defy me?” “What if I am?” I looked at him coldly, then suddenly reached out and snatched the document from the assistant’s hands. To everyone’s horrified gazes, I tore it with both hands. “Rip—” The enrollment agreement was ripped in half and thrown at Ethan’s feet like trash. “Ethan, listen carefully. As long as there’s one Hayes family member alive, Lily will never be sent to a place like that by you!”

“Slap!” A resounding slap echoed through the ballroom. Ethan’s hand hung in mid-air, trembling with rage. I turned my head, my cheek burning, a trace of blood seeping from the corner of my mouth. But I didn’t flinch, only looked at him with eyes that saw a dead man. Lily shrieked, rushing forward to shield me, glaring at Ethan like an enraged cub. “Don’t hit my mom! You’re a bad man! I don’t have a dad like you!” Ethan froze. Seeing the hatred in his daughter’s eyes, a flicker of panic crossed his face, but it was quickly masked by fury. “Fine! Fine, Eleanor Hayes! What a daughter you’ve raised!” He pointed at me, gritting his teeth. “You think I won’t touch you just because of the Hayes family connections? Believe me, I’ll divorce you right now!” Serena, behind him, secretly curled her lips, her eyes full of malicious triumph. “Mr. Thorne, please calm down.” She feigned concern, stepping forward and speaking in a soft voice. “She’s just not thinking clearly. After all… after all, she once lost a child, so she’s naturally a little overprotective of Lily.” Lost a child. How dare she bring that up! A murderous rage instantly boiled within me, and I stared at Serena, my eyes burning red. “Serena Davies, say one more word, and I promise you won’t live to see tomorrow’s sun.” My voice was quiet, but it carried an icy chill that cut to the bone. Serena flinched, taking two steps back, trembling as she hid behind Ethan. “Eleanor Hayes! You’re completely insane!” Ethan was furious. “Guards! Take my wife back to the suburban villa! No one is to see her or let her leave without my permission! Lily’s affairs are now entirely under Vice President Davies’s charge!” The bodyguards rushed forward like hungry wolves. I didn’t resist, only cast Ethan one last cold glance. “Ethan, you will regret this. Everything you owe Eleanor Hayes, I will make you pay back a thousandfold.” I took Lily’s hand and turned, walking out of the ballroom. The night wind was biting, chilling me to the bone, but it couldn’t extinguish the fire of anger in my heart. The suburban villa—that was the most secluded property owned by the Thorne family. Calling it a villa was a euphemism for a place of confinement. As soon as we stepped through the front door, the heavy sound of a lock clicking shut echoed behind us. Lily clung to me, sobbing uncontrollably. “Mom, what do we do? I don’t want to go abroad, I want to stay with you…” I knelt, gently wiping away the tears from her face. My eyes were filled with both tenderness and fierce determination. “Don’t be scared, Lily. With Mom here, no one can send you away.” I stood up, surveying the empty villa. This place wouldn’t hold me. The Hayes family’s network already spanned this city. With just one phone call, the top legal team could ruin Ethan’s reputation. But I couldn’t do that. I not only had to save Lily; I also had to make Ethan and Serena Davies pay. I would make them answer for Eleanor’s death!

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My husband bought beef trimmings every day but never ate them himself. After I cooked them up, he’d only put pieces in my bowl and our daughter’s. “Eat more, you two. I’m useless — this is all I can give you right now. Once I make more money, things will be different.” I rushed to reassure him. Secretly, my heart felt warm. Then one day, on my way to pick up our daughter, I passed by the butcher’s stall. The owner recognized me right away. “Sia, your husband really spoils you. He comes in every day and buys the premium cuts — always pays extra to get the best. Says his wife deserves nothing but the best.” I froze on the spot, a chill spreading through my whole body. I had never once eaten premium steak. My daughter tugged at my hand, looking confused. “Mom, we’ve always eaten beef trimmings at home.” She was right. That’s all she and I had ever eaten. So who was William buying those premium steaks for? …… My daughter’s voice was small, but I heard every word. “Do you sell beef trimmings separately?” Maggie, the butcher, stopped what she was doing. “Beef trimmings? We don’t sell those. They’re just scraps.” She pointed toward a small table off to the side, where packages were stacked. “We leave them over there. Homeless folks can take them for free.” She frowned. “Why do you ask? Your husband always buys the premium steak.” Something squeezed tight around my heart. William and I had met through a setup — a blind date arranged by mutual friends. After we married, everyone said we were the perfect couple, devoted and steady. Ten years of marriage. Not a single fight. I never once thought he would cheat. I bent down and adjusted our daughter’s scarf, my eyes stinging. William had knitted that scarf himself and given it to me on our first anniversary. That day, my usually composed husband was uncharacteristically flustered. I teased him that it was ugly, but I kept it tucked away carefully all these years — until I wrapped it around our daughter’s neck. I pulled myself together and looked back at Maggie. “Maggie, can I get your number? If my husband buys the premium steak, will you let me know? I’d like to have the other ingredients ready.” I had no appetite for anything else after that. I took my daughter home. I’d barely started cooking when William walked through the door. “Sia, I’m home. I missed you.” He set down the beef trimmings and pulled me into his arms, his touch gentle. His phone rang. He immediately pulled away and stepped out onto the balcony. A message from Maggie lit up my screen. “4 lbs of premium beef. $300. Same as always.” A string of laughing emojis followed. My heart sank. William came back from the balcony shortly after, an apologetic look on his face, his phone still showing an ended call. “Sia, the company needs me to go back and revise a proposal. There’s an issue with this project.” I looked at the slightly strained expression on his face and nodded. William exhaled with relief and pulled me close again. “Marrying you is the luckiest thing that ever happened to me.” “Once this project wraps up, let’s take a trip somewhere. Just the two of us.” I looked down at the coat he’d never taken off and quietly said, “Sure.” He let go of me and headed for the door, steps quick and urgent. On the table sat the beef trimmings. The runoff had soaked into the surface. I grabbed a cloth and swept it all into the trash. My daughter stood in the bedroom doorway, clutching her stuffed rabbit. I opened my mouth, then closed it. I didn’t know how to tell her that her father already had another family. I swallowed the ache rising in my chest and coaxed her softly. She was a good girl. She took her bread and milk and headed back to her room without a fuss. I followed William’s car to an upscale neighborhood. I watched him carry the premium beef and groceries inside, happiness written all over his face — unguarded in a way I had never seen from him. Not even in our most intimate moments had he ever let himself go like that. I had always thought he was just reserved by nature — that he was that way with everyone. Turns out I was just the exception. While I stood there in a daze, the door swung open. A woman answered — flawless makeup, a fitted dress that traced every curve, heels clicking against the floor. Freya. William’s high school desk neighbor. In his yearbook photo, the two of them were pressed close together, Freya laughing as she leaned against him. I had been jealous. William tore up the photo to make me feel secure. But I turned back that day — and saw him carefully piece it back together and hide it somewhere I’d never find. Back then, I loved him. So I forgave him for clinging to the past, and I believed we would make it to the end together. Now he was laughing, pulling that woman into his arms, burying his face in her neck — then conjuring a single rose to make Freya smile. Without realizing it, tears were streaming down my face.

“Daddy!” A little boy burst out of the house. William scooped him up and swung him onto his shoulders. “Let’s go! We’re home!” A sharp ache bloomed in my chest — grief tangled with rage. I wanted to storm over there and confront them both, wanted to see William’s face when I asked him why he threw away ten years of marriage. But the door closed behind them. Faint laughter drifted through it. I bit down on my lip until it bled. I didn’t let myself cry. For a moment I even thought — maybe if I had never found out, I could have kept living with my eyes closed, happily enough. But I knew that was impossible. I drove home in a daze. Our daughter was already asleep. My phone buzzed — a text from William apologizing for working late, with a $50 transfer. He spent $300 on premium beef for his mistress. He sent me $50 and fed me beef trimmings. Tears blurred my screen. I let myself fall apart — sobbing until I could barely breathe — until the grief burned itself out and left me numb. Then I opened my email. A message from the company. “Our new New York office has huge potential. A branch manager position is yours when you get here.” I typed back two words without hesitation: “I’m in.” New York was where I grew up. Going back was nothing but good. I had given up that promotion before — for William’s sake, to keep our family whole. I stayed and did it all: the job, the house, the daughter. But I didn’t need to do that anymore. My daughter and I were leaving together. I reached out to a college friend who practiced law and asked her to draft divorce papers. William was meticulous. He had almost certainly been quietly funneling money to Freya for years. But what was mine, I wasn’t leaving behind a single dollar of. As his legal wife, I had every right to access William’s accounts. His monthly salary: $20,000. $12,000 went to Freya every month. Another $2,000 for gifts. The remaining $6,000 came to me for household expenses. I had taken that $6,000, added my own salary, and stretched it across the mortgage, the car payment, utilities, groceries — scrimping so hard I wouldn’t let myself buy a new piece of clothing. Meanwhile, William had transferred nearly $1.16 million to Freya over the years. Every transfer was labeled “household expenses.” Going back eight years, I could see a monthly charge for prenatal checkups. I hadn’t even finished reviewing everything when I heard the front door open. I saved the records quickly and moved them into a folder labeled “Divorce.” By the time I was done, William was standing in the doorway. “You’re still up?” “Helping an intern refine a proposal.” He rubbed my temples. On the screen was a revised draft. “Go to bed. I’ll handle the rest.” I reached over and closed the laptop, then looked up at him steadily. “How was the steak?” The arms around me went rigid. William’s breathing faltered. But he steadied himself quickly. “Jason ordered late-night food and threw in an order for me.” What William didn’t know was that I had run into Jason on the way home. No late-night food. No overtime.

I wasn’t ready to call him out yet. I just nodded. “I’m sleeping in Amy’s room tonight.” Before he could answer, I was already headed to our daughter’s room. His touch now made my skin crawl. People are strange that way — love can turn on a dime. The day I went to pick up the divorce papers, the school called. “Please come in as soon as you can. Amy hit a classmate.” I tucked the papers into my bag and rushed over. In the office, Amy stood with her head down, saying nothing. Freya sat to the side, holding her son. I crouched down and kept my voice soft. “Amy, I want to hear what happened.” “John said Mom is a homewrecker. A mistress who broke up a family…” A nine-year-old doesn’t fully understand those words. But she could feel the cruelty in them. “He said those things about you, so I hit him.” The teacher shifted uncomfortably. “Kids don’t really know what they’re saying…” Freya looked polished as ever — glossy waves, a full face of makeup. William had kept her well. She was in her thirties but looked ten years younger. “My son wasn’t wrong,” she said. The contempt in her eyes was naked. She didn’t bother hiding the provocation. “You seem to know a lot about my family,” I said, with a cold smile. “Everyone knows Amy’s dad never showed up. If you’re not the other woman, what are you?” “Go ahead and call your husband right now — let’s settle this face to face.” She was certain I couldn’t. “Fine.” I was curious what William’s face would look like when he saw us both in the same room. I dialed. It rang twice and went dead. The room went quiet. The teacher threw me a look of thinly veiled disdain. “As a parent, you really should be setting a better example.” Freya didn’t bother hiding her laugh. “Other woman, other woman — Amy’s mom is the other woman! Amy’s the illegitimate kid!” John clapped along gleefully. I gripped my phone. This actually made things easier. I didn’t need to hold back anymore. Then Freya calmly called a contact saved as “husband.” He picked up immediately. “Babe, our son’s in trouble at school. Can you come?” “On my way. Give me a minute.” That low, steady voice — I had heard it for ten years. I would know it anywhere. William arrived fast. “Freya, is our son okay—” He saw me the moment he stepped through the door and went completely silent. “Babe!” Freya crossed the room and pressed herself against him, playing wounded. “Sia…” He moved his lips. He didn’t say anything else. “Do you two know each other?” the teacher asked, stepping in. William met my eyes. His flickered. “No. I don’t know her.” That hit me somewhere cold. Ten years of marriage. And William’s answer was “I don’t know her.” He couldn’t look at me. He turned to Amy. “Apologize.” No room for argument in his tone. I stepped in front of my daughter. “You’re saying I’m the mistress? That Amy is illegitimate?” He hesitated — just briefly — then looked at me directly. “As a parent, I’d hope you’d have the courage to take responsibility in front of the children.” William’s words nailed me in place like a public shaming, while Freya stood beside him looking like she had won. I had expected this. I still felt the sting. I called the police. William, stone-faced, signed the mediation agreement on behalf of the family. I wasn’t surprised. I accepted it calmly. “William. I want a divorce.” His expression darkened. His tone wasn’t kind. “Freya is a single mom. We’re old friends. I was just playing the part of her husband — she doesn’t have what you have. As a woman, I’d hope you could be compassionate. If you blow this up and ruin her reputation…” I watched William’s face become a stranger’s. He had thought about it — if I accepted the label of mistress, that shame would follow me for life. It could follow Amy too. But all he could see was Freya crying, because her own lie had been exposed. “William, I mean it.” I pulled out the divorce papers. “There’s a pen at the police station. Might as well sign while we’re here.”

Seeing that I wasn’t bluffing, William felt a flicker of panic — then steadied himself. Sia wouldn’t actually divorce him. He knew better than anyone how much she loved him. They had been solid for ten years. She was angry, that was all. She’d cool down. Reassured by his own logic, William looked back at me and relaxed. “Take Amy home. Give yourself some time to calm down.” Then he walked over to Freya. His stride had a faint air of retreat. I put the divorce papers away. I knew it wouldn’t be that simple. Fine. If he wanted to drag it out, he could wait for the lawsuit. Eight years of infidelity. Everyone in that upscale neighborhood believed William and Freya were married. A few conversations with the neighbors would be enough to establish that — and combined with the bank records, it was plenty to support a bigamy charge. “Sia, your ex is unbelievable. He used your joint assets to buy her a house and a car. The down payment came from your own savings — the money you brought into the marriage.” My friend was furious in our text thread. “That spineless piece of garbage. By the time I’m done in court, he won’t have a thing left.” I stayed calm and sent her Freya’s address, then laid out what I needed. She would handle gathering the evidence. Freya was used to spending freely. I’d like to see how she planned to pay back over a million dollars. That thought actually lifted my mood. I took my daughter out to dinner. William dropped Freya off and — for the first time — turned down her offer to stay for dinner. He wanted to get home. Sia was probably sulking, and he needed to smooth things over. He had been too harsh earlier, and he’d let his feelings get out of control. He’d hurt her. He needed to fix it. On the way, he passed the butcher. The stall was still open. On impulse, he bought a premium cut. By the time he came to, it was already wrapped and bagged. “Want some beef scraps too? Your wife loves them, right? She was just here asking about them a few days ago. I told her — you’re a good husband. Real thoughtful.” The gentle embarrassment he had imagined did not come. William’s face went pale. He paid and rushed home. At the trash bin outside the building, he found a scarf. His scarf — the one he had knitted for Sia. She had thrown it away. William’s mind was a mess. He needed to get upstairs. Fast. He had this irrational feeling that if he was too slow, Sia would disappear from his life for good. When he got home, I was just hanging up the phone — I’d been arranging Amy’s school transfer. Her new school in New York was set. My parents had already sorted everything. Amy could start whenever we arrived. “Sia.” William was disheveled, still catching his breath. I glanced at the premium steak he was holding. “Not tired of it yet?” I watched his expression fall, and felt just fine about it. I went back to packing. There wasn’t much in this house that belonged to me. One small suitcase was enough. “Sia, I—” “When did it start?” I cut him off. I still wanted to hear it from him. Silence stretched between us. Finally, under the weight of my gaze, William broke. “Eight years ago. When you were in the hospital having Amy, Freya came back to the States.” “She was in a bad place. She wanted to drink, so we met up — and one thing led to another. I swear it was only that once.” His voice cracked with emotion. My expression didn’t change. William let out a hollow laugh. “I never expected it to happen from just that one time. I didn’t believe it — I made Freya get an amniocentesis.” “The results came back. The child was mine.” “William. Do you even believe that yourself?” A grown man who couldn’t push away a woman who came onto him drunk. How convenient. “The divorce papers are on the table.” “Does it have to come to this?” My patience was gone. I threw a hard drive onto the table. “Sign it, or see you in court.”

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At five years old, I was adopted by the Andres family. But it took them ten years to find out that on the very day they adopted me, their real daughter had been there too. They just happened to choose me instead. I was the one who was supposed to die in her place. After that, they were filled with regret and remorse. They wished I had never entered their lives at all. Cooper Andres stood by and did nothing, time after time, whenever I was falsely accused. “Smile. You love smiling, don’t you?” “Back then, if you hadn’t flashed that disgusting smile at me, I would have chosen Claire!” “Daisy, you’re the one who killed Claire. You.” When he found out I was carrying his child, Cooper forced me onto the operating table. That time, I lost both my life and the baby’s. Then I opened my eyes again. I was back on the day they came to the orphanage. — “Daisy, what are you doing hiding up here?” Ms. Laura, one of the staff at the orphanage, rushed over and carried me down from the rooftop. “Ms. Laura, I… I don’t want to go.” Laura gently patted the back of my hand. “Silly girl, the Andres family is here today. They’re loaded.” “If they pick you, you’ll never have to worry about a thing for the rest of your life.” “Make sure you smile, okay?” A chill ran through me. I thought of how Cooper, in my past life, would demand I smile over and over again, no matter what was happening. He made me smile when I was falsely accused of stealing. He made me smile when rumors were spread about me. And even when he found out I was pregnant with his child, he only paused for a moment before telling me to smile anyway. To smile while I got rid of the baby. I pressed my lips together. And finally, the moment the luxury car pulled up, I slipped away and hid in the storage room. This life, I absolutely, absolutely, absolutely refused to have anything to do with the Andres family ever again. I must have fallen asleep at some point, because when they found me later, I heard that the Andres family had left without adopting anyone. I didn’t know why. But I didn’t care either. That night, I lay in bed and looked around at the thirty-some kids sharing the dorm with me. I had no idea which one of them was the Andres family’s real daughter. According to what the Andres family had said, she was somewhere in this room right now. I didn’t want any more contact with the Andres family than necessary. But I also remembered the first ten years after they adopted me in my past life. Mr. and Mrs. Andres had been genuinely kind to me. Cooper too. I thought, if their real daughter could find her way back to them in this life, maybe that would count as repaying the kindness they’d shown me before everything fell apart. But before I could do anything about it, the Andres family came back a second time. This time, all the girls around five or six years old were asked to give blood samples. In my past life, that had never happened. When I came out after giving blood, I saw Cooper walking toward me, his expression cold and unreadable. Something stirred in me. Word was that it had been the Andres family’s young heir who requested the blood tests. Could it be that Cooper had been reborn too? I looked down and stepped to the side to avoid him. A pair of expensive sneakers paused in front of me for just a moment, then continued past. The next day, I noticed one of my dormmates was gone. I remembered her — a quiet little girl who cried all the time. A total crybaby. I never expected that the little crybaby would turn out to be the Andres family’s real daughter. The peace didn’t last two days before the Andres family showed up again. This time, they said they wanted to adopt a companion for their daughter. And this time, I had nowhere to hide. All of us, myself included, lined up in a row, waiting for the Andres family to make their choice. The first one out of the car was their real daughter. The little crybaby who used to cry at everything had already become a princess everyone wanted to protect. Cooper held her the entire time, only setting her down when they reached us. “Claire!” Several girls rushed toward her, eyes shining with excitement. Even though we were all young, the kids here had learned to think ahead. Everyone knew that if you got to go home with Claire today, you’d get to wear pretty dresses like hers someday. You’d live in a big house. You’d have people looking after you. Every pair of eyes was fixed on Claire. But for some reason, Claire walked straight up to me. My body moved before my brain could catch up. I shoved Claire to the ground. “Claire!” “Daisy!” “Claire!” —

That day, Ms. Laura made me stand in the corner facing the wall for three hours as punishment. I figured that after shoving Claire like that, there was no way the Andres family would ever adopt me. But three days later, I was sitting in the back of their car. Ms. Laura told me the Andres family had chosen me. The paperwork was already done. It hit me like a shock of electricity. But it was done, and I had no choice but to accept it. At least Claire was easy to be around. And Mr. and Mrs. Andres were just as warm and caring as they had been in those first ten years of my past life. The only one in the house who was cold toward me was Cooper. He almost never spoke to me. But sometimes I’d catch him watching me in silence. A few days later, at dinner, I heard Cooper make a suggestion to Mr. and Mrs. Andres. “Dad, can we get the orphanage set up with proper heating?” I went still and looked down at my plate. Honestly, I’d been trying to figure out the same thing for days. In my past life, the orphanage caught fire because of a faulty electric blanket. The place was always short on funding, so they’d been using the same blanket for years. “Of course. That was an oversight on our part,” Mr. Andres said. “They took care of Claire for years. The least we can do is give something back.” In the end, the Andres family not only had proper heating installed, they also donated ten million dollars to the orphanage. I had been racking my brain trying to figure out how to prevent what happened, and come up with nothing. Cooper solved it with a single sentence. I still kept my distance from him. But honestly, I was grateful. Setting aside everything that happened between us in my past life — Cooper’s second chance at life had genuinely changed things for the better for a lot of people. — Years passed in a blink, and Claire and I were in high school. Life with the Andres family during those years was quiet and comfortable. With Claire back where she belonged, the family’s business had grown even bigger than it had in my past life. Cooper was still in college, but he had already started interning at the company. Over those years, I barely had any real contact with Cooper. Partly because I went out of my way to avoid him. But Cooper had always kept his distance from me too. The contrast between how he treated me and how he doted on Claire was impossible to miss. Mr. and Mrs. Andres noticed, and so did Claire. They both seemed to feel a little bad about it from time to time. Claire especially, since she’d always been a crybaby from the time she was small. And I understood why I’d been brought into the Andres household in the first place. I was there to take care of Claire. So for all those years, outside of school, my life basically revolved around her. No matter the situation, Claire always came first for me. And Claire depended on me just as much. So when everyone found out that I didn’t want to go to the private school where Claire was enrolled, and instead had applied to a public high school, Mr. and Mrs. Andres were stunned. Even Cooper looked at me differently. “Daisy, why do you suddenly want to go to a public school?” “Right — I mean, your grades are great, but our family really doesn’t need you to push yourself that hard.” Claire nodded along, eyes already glistening. I tightened my grip on my hands under the table. She was right about one thing. A family like the Andres family didn’t need their kids to take the hard road. They’d already mapped out their children’s futures long before any decisions needed to be made. Private school, then studying abroad. Especially with Cooper being as accomplished as he was. As long as Claire and I played by the rules, we’d be comfortable for the rest of our lives. But I didn’t want that. This life, I wanted to live on my own terms. So for the first time, the girl who had always done what she was told dug in her heels. The whole family took turns trying to talk me out of it, but I wouldn’t budge. In the end, it was Cooper who came through for me. He said, “Let her do what she wants.” Just those few words. And with that, I got into the top public high school in the city. —

Once high school started, I left early every morning and came home late every night. After evening study sessions, I’d often stay even later before finally heading back. One time, the Andres family driver dropped me off at the school gate and a classmate saw. After that, I turned down the rides and started taking the bus to school instead. Mr. and Mrs. Andres didn’t fully understand, but they respected my decision. At first, being separated from Claire every day felt a little strange. But I was quickly buried under the weight of the coursework, and there wasn’t much time to think about anything else. One evening after study hall, I stayed behind to work through a problem that had been giving me trouble. By the time the security guard came to check the building, it was almost eleven. I rushed to the bus stop, but the last bus had already gone. Fortunately, in this life, the Andres family had always taken care of me. Even though I tried to spend as little of their money as possible, I never let my account drop below a healthy amount. I pulled up a rideshare app on my phone and booked a car. The moment I got in, I noticed something off about the way the driver was looking at me. “Still in school, huh, sweetheart?” His voice had a greasy quality to it. Our school had a strict uniform policy, so the question wasn’t exactly innocent. I gave a flat “mm-hm” and set an alarm on my phone. One minute from now. Then my phone rang. I thought it was the alarm, but when I looked at the screen, it was Cooper. I hesitated, then answered. “Where are you?” His voice was low on the other end. I was quiet for a second. “You’re just heading home now? You took a rideshare?” I said yes. “Send me the license plate. Where are you right now?” I glanced out the window and gave him a street address. It happened to be near the entrance to a night market, so there were still plenty of people around. “Get out of the car now and wait. I’m coming to get you.” “No, no, it’s fine, I can get home on my own.” I kept refusing. There was a pause on his end, and then the line went dead. Right away, a message came through from Cooper. “License plate.” I had no choice but to send it to him. The rest of the ride was dead quiet. When we arrived, I saw someone standing at the intersection a little way off. When Cooper saw me step out, he turned and walked without a word. I followed silently behind him. Then, out of nowhere, his voice came back. “Are you scared of me?” My steps faltered. In my past life, it was around this same time that the truth came out — that Claire had been at the orphanage the day I was adopted. Back then, I had faced Mr. and Mrs. Andres’s cold looks and Cooper’s burning resentment. Overnight, I went from being their cherished daughter to an unwanted stray. Even though I was still enrolled at the private school, those classmates had a talent for reading the room. The moment they sensed that the Andres family had turned on me, the trouble started. Snakes showing up in my backpack. Glue on my chair. Prank after prank. At first they were cautious, wary of the Andres name, wary of Cooper. But once they realized no one was going to step in on my behalf, it escalated fast. It all came to a head at a classmate’s birthday party, when someone slipped something into my drink. By the time I realized what had happened, it was already too late. In a panic, I stumbled into Cooper’s room. That only made things worse. Cooper, who had already despised me, looked at me with a hatred so cold and absolute that it felt like being thrown into a frozen lake. Mrs. Andres said I was vicious. That I couldn’t let go of the family’s wealth, that I had lost my mind trying to become Cooper’s wife. She said the Andres family must have wronged me in a past life, and that I had come back to collect. Every word cut into me like a blade, slow and deliberate. I wanted to leave. I wanted to run. I wanted to disappear. But I had nowhere to go, and no money of my own. Eventually I found the courage to walk away from the Andres family. But without a degree or any real skills, all I could do was scrape by with a job at a coffee shop. And then everything stopped when they found out I was pregnant. Cooper forced me onto the operating table. He said he would not allow me to have his child. It disgusted him. I had begged him. A cut I had gotten once wouldn’t stop bleeding, and a doctor had told me that my blood didn’t clot properly. Even a small wound, if left untreated, could kill me. And I genuinely was not in any condition to go through that procedure. But Cooper went ahead anyway. I didn’t make it. Though, in those last moments of my past life, I wasn’t afraid. I almost felt like leaving this world that way was… fine. “Oof!” Lost in those memories, I hadn’t noticed Cooper had stopped walking. I walked right into him. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” I stepped back quickly and apologized, eyes down. He was wearing a camel-colored trench coat. Behind his gold-framed glasses, his eyes were dark and unreadable. After a long moment, he turned and walked away without saying a word. That night was nothing more than a small interruption. What followed was an even heavier load of schoolwork. Unlike my past life, the curriculum at a public school moved fast. By junior year, we had already covered most of what was usually left for senior year. After that, it was all practice tests and SAT prep.

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I had just unveiled the centerpiece of my shop to three million viewers online — pulling back the red silk with a flourish — when Selena, my top-donating fan, kicked my front door open and walked in with two bodyguards at her back. She slammed a pregnancy test and a stack of explicit love letters straight into my face. “Quinn! You used my fiancé’s money to open this shop, and you’re carrying his bastard child — you make me sick!” The comment section exploded. “Home wrecker, go die” flooded every inch of the screen. In my previous life, the chaos had shattered me. I’d panicked and cut the stream. My best friend Vivian had locked me in the basement storage room under the guise of “letting things cool down.” That night, the restoration solvent in the storage room leaked. I was poisoned to death in the dark. I clawed at the iron door until my fingernails tore — and all I got in return was Vivian’s cold laugh from the other side. When I opened my eyes again, I was back in the exact moment before Selena’s hand came down. I shot my arm up and seized her wrist, let out a sharp laugh, and shoved the camera directly into her face. “Selena, since you’re claiming I’m carrying Ethan’s child — then let’s invite Ethan into this livestream right now. In front of everyone. Let’s find out exactly whose child this really is.”

The heat of the studio lights burned against my cheeks. The ringing in my ears hadn’t faded yet, and Selena’s face — twisted with fury — was already filling my entire field of vision. Smack. The thick stack of love letters and the pregnancy test hit the bridge of my nose like a wave of papers. The sharp edge of one page sliced a thin cut across my cheek. The pain was real. I wasn’t dead. I gulped air in ragged breaths. The burning sensation in my chest — the one the chemical solvent had carved into me — still lingered like a phantom. But everything around me was undeniably, unmistakably real. Three years in the past. My antique restoration studio. The anniversary livestream. “Quinn! Have you no shame!” Selena’s voice was sharp enough to blow out the microphone. She was dressed in a tailored designer suit, four broad-shouldered bodyguards behind her, completely blocking the front entrance to my studio. The viewer count in the top corner of the stream was climbing at a terrifying rate. One million. Two million. Three million. Selena was my top donor and one of the most well-known socialites in the industry. She’d commissioned over a million dollars’ worth of restoration work from me. Every time I went live, she’d throw in massive tips and push my stream to the top of the platform. Everyone had assumed she was here today to cheer me on. Then she dropped the pregnancy test on my worktable. “Everyone, take a good look! This is the so-called ‘genius jewelry restorer’ you’ve all been worshipping!” Selena jabbed her finger in my face, her hand trembling. “She’s been living off my fiancé Ethan’s money, playing the independent woman act — all while carrying his bastard behind closed doors!” “Quinn, you’ve been spending my money and sleeping with my man. Don’t you ever have nightmares?” After a stunned silence, the comment section detonated. “Oh my god, this is INSANE.” “Top donor exposing the other woman live? Let’s gooo!” “I literally just bought one of her mystery restoration boxes. Disgusting. I want a refund.” “Looks innocent on the outside and pulls this garbage. Unbelievable.” “Cancel her. This kind of trash influencer needs to be gone.” The curses and insults rolled across the screen like a tidal wave. My fingertips rested on the edge of the worktable. They’d gone cold and numb. I knew this. I knew all of this. It was the same day in my previous life. The same livestream. I had just finished showing the world a sapphire tiara I’d spent six months restoring when Selena stormed in with her people. Back then, my first instinct hadn’t been to fight back. It had been fear. Fear that the studio’s reputation would be destroyed. Fear that clients would cancel. Fear that years of work would collapse overnight. Vivian had been standing beside me, eyes red, grabbing my arm in a panic. “Quinn, cut the stream!” “These people online just want drama. The longer you stream, the worse it gets. Selena’s furious right now — let’s apologize to her privately, refund whatever she needs, and stop this before it spirals.” I had believed her. I’d cut the stream in a panic. Afterward, Vivian wrote a public statement on my behalf. Not a single line admitted I’d been the other woman — but every sentence implied I was “naive,” “deceived by Ethan,” and “willing to take full responsibility.” The next day, Selena brought people to wreck my studio. Irreplaceable antiques were smashed to pieces. Restoration chemicals soaked the floor. Then came the solvent leak in the basement. I was locked inside. The fumes crept down my throat, slow and patient. From behind the door, I heard Vivian’s voice. “I told you to sign the studio over to me. You had to be stubborn. Now look — your name is ruined, your reputation is gone. This place was always going to be mine in the end.” In that moment, every unanswered question fell into place. Now, I was back at the starting point of my own destruction. A cup of warm water appeared at my elbow. Vivian’s voice dropped low — still wearing that mask of frantic concern. “Quinn, you look terrible. Listen to me — don’t go head to head with Selena right now.” “She’s furious. Just back down a little. Tell her you didn’t know Ethan was engaged. Keep her calm for now and I’ll handle the PR afterward.” The rim of the cup was half an inch from my hand. I didn’t take it. Vivian had been my college roommate. My co-founder and operations director at the studio. I handled restoration, authentication, and on-camera work. She handled business development, advertising, and community management. The studio had grown from a basement workshop to ten million followers. She’d had a real hand in that. In my previous life, I’d believed that too. Right up until I was choking on poison gas and heard her laugh. Vivian noticed I hadn’t taken the water. Something flickered behind her eyes — a split-second stiffness she almost managed to hide. Then the mask of worry slid back into place. “Quinn, the comment section is already filling up with reports. We built this business on our reputation. That’s everything.” Reputation is everything. But in my previous life, caring too much about my reputation was exactly what got me killed. I took a slow breath, looked past Vivian, and fixed my gaze on Selena’s furious face. I didn’t cut the stream. Instead, I grabbed the backup phone from its stand, brought the lens in close, and pointed it directly at Selena — and at the pregnancy test sitting on my worktable. “I’m not cutting the stream.” My voice was quiet, but it landed like a stone in the silence. Vivian’s lips twitched. “Quinn, are you out of your mind?!” “I’m not the one who’s lost their mind.” I steadied the camera and looked directly into the lens. “Selena. Since you’ve decided I’ve been involved with Ethan, let’s settle this properly.” “You’re saying I’m carrying Ethan’s child. That I’ve been taking his money.” “Fine. Then call Ethan. Right now.” “In front of everyone watching — I want to ask him myself where this child came from.”

The entire studio went dead silent. The comment feed stuttered for a moment — then exploded at ten times the speed it had before. “She’s fighting back?! The owner is actually fighting back?!” “The nerve on this woman — absolute ice.” “Still denying it even with a pregnancy test in her face. Classic.” “Waiting for the guy to show up. Three-way confrontation. This tea is piping hot.” Selena clearly hadn’t expected this. In her version of events, I was supposed to collapse in tears. Beg for forgiveness. Run. She ground her teeth and locked eyes with me. “Quinn, you never know when to quit.” “You think Ethan’s going to protect you? He figured out what you are a long time ago.” She pulled out her phone, jabbing at the screen with hard, furious taps. “I’m calling him right now. Let him tell everyone exactly who you really are.” The call connected. Ring. Ring. Every tone tightened the nerves of the millions watching. Vivian suddenly stepped forward, putting herself between me and Selena. Her eyes glistened. Her voice broke with what sounded like genuine distress. “Selena, please — don’t do this to Quinn!” “Quinn is a victim too! Ethan told her he was single the whole time. She had no idea you existed. We’re all women here — why push her this far?” The moment those words hit the air, the comment section shifted. “The best friend just admitted it!” “Wait — so she’s basically confirming Quinn knew Ethan and had a relationship with him?” “Knowing about the fiancée or not doesn’t matter. Taking the money is a fact. A home wrecker is a home wrecker.” “That best friend is something else — pretending to defend her while stabbing her in the back.” I turned my head and looked at Vivian with cold, flat eyes. “Vivian. When did I ever say I knew Ethan?” Vivian’s expression froze. Her gaze darted away. “Quinn, this isn’t the time to be difficult! Men will throw anyone under the bus to protect themselves. If you just admit he deceived you, that’s way better than letting people think you went after him on purpose.” “So your advice is — to admit to something I never did, just to ‘cut my losses’?” I stepped closer to her, my gaze sharp as a blade. “Vivian, are you my operations director, or are you working for Selena?” Vivian’s foot started tapping frantically. Tears streamed down her face. “Quinn, how could you think that about me? I’ve been grinding through this with you since we were in a basement. I’m trying to save you!” Save me. That was the same line she’d used in my previous life — every time she steered me one step deeper into the trap. Every time she made me bow my head. Every time she made me stay quiet. All of it had led to a place I couldn’t come back from. Click. The call went through. Through the speaker came a low, slightly raspy male voice. “Hey, what’s going on?” Selena grabbed onto it like a lifeline. Tears spilled down her face. “Ethan! I’m at Quinn’s studio! Tell everyone — didn’t she deceive you? Isn’t she the one who took your money and tried to trap you with a pregnancy?” A few seconds of silence on the other end. Then the voice let out a slow sigh. “Quinn, let it go.” “Just give Selena back whatever needs to be returned. You and I… this is where it ends. I don’t want to hurt anyone.” The comment section detonated. “Ethan just confirmed it! What else is there to explain?” “Trash man, trash woman — perfect match.” “He’s calling her by her nickname and she wants us to believe nothing happened?” “Quinn get out of the restoration industry. Give back the money!” Selena let out a cold, triumphant laugh and held the phone up in front of me. “You heard him. Quinn — what do you have to say now?” I stared at that phone. Listened to the voice coming through it — that voice with just a faint trace of static — and I smiled. Not bitterness. Not performance. The thrill of finally getting your hands on what you’ve been chasing. In my previous life, that voice had been the last straw that broke me. Now, it was the first card in my winning hand. “Ethan, right?” I leaned toward the mic, my voice perfectly steady. “You say you don’t want to hurt anyone. So why won’t you turn on video? Why won’t you show your face?” Silence. “You’re saying you know me. That we had something. Fine — let me ask you a few questions.” I picked up a tool from the worktable. “Last month, you said your favorite piece I’d ever restored was an emerald necklace. So tell me — what technique did I use on the pendant?” Faint breathing on the other end. Selena jumped in to defend him. “Ethan’s a mess right now. Who memorizes the craftsmanship on some necklace?” I ignored her and kept my eyes on the phone. “Okay. Too technical. Can’t remember. Let me make it easier.” “If you’ve visited my studio as often as you claim — tell me what’s displayed in the entryway, right when you walk in. What antique. What design.” The seconds ticked by. Millions of viewers held their breath. Vivian quietly edged back half a step, her hand slipping into her jacket pocket. Ten seconds. Twenty seconds. The “Ethan” on the other end finally cleared his throat. “I’ve got a stomach thing. I’m at the hospital. I’m not doing this.” “Not doing this?” I let out a short, cold laugh. “A man who supposedly visited my studio constantly. Who was so close with me that I’m pregnant with his child. And he doesn’t even know what my front door looks like?” “Ethan — is it really that your stomach hurts? Or is it that you have never once set foot in this place?”

Something shifted in the comment section — a hesitation, a crack. “Okay but that’s kind of a good point. Why can’t he answer anything?” “If you’re such a regular, how do you not know the layout?” “What if the fiancée staged this whole thing to sabotage her?” “Hold on, let this play out. This is getting strange.” Selena’s expression flickered, but she recovered fast. “Quinn, stop trying to change the subject! Failing a couple of trivia questions doesn’t prove anything. The bank transfers are real and they’re on paper!” She pulled a stack of printed bank statements from her bag and slapped them on the table. “Everyone look! Over the past six months, Ethan transferred five hundred thousand dollars to this woman. Every single note says ‘Quinn — studio rent’ or ‘Quinn — materials’!” The camera zoomed in on the papers. Black text on white. Recipient: Quinn. Account ending in: 8892. Vivian sucked in a sharp breath beside me, covering her mouth. “Quinn… you actually received all of this? You told me every transaction in the studio was legitimate restoration fees.” That line landed exactly where she aimed it — neat and precise, cementing the image of me pocketing a small fortune. I looked at those bank records and let out a quiet, internal laugh. In my previous life, this had knocked me flat. Because the account ending in 8892 was genuinely opened under my name. But I had never once seen that card. I turned and walked to the safe, entered the code, and pulled out a thick stack of ledgers and a USB drive. “Selena, you’re saying Ethan transferred me five hundred thousand dollars.” I plugged the drive into the computer and threw the studio’s official account records directly onto the livestream screen. “This is every single transaction that has passed through Restored by Quinn since we opened. Every deposit has a corresponding restoration contract, invoice, and client signature.” “You’re welcome to hire any auditing firm you want. Go through every line. Find one cent that came from Ethan.” Selena’s lip curled. “Of course he wouldn’t use the business account. He sent it to your personal account. Ending in 8892.” “Is that so?” I held up my ID in front of the camera. “I have two bank accounts. One ending in 3341. One ending in 0927.” “If you don’t believe me, I’ll log into mobile banking right now. Or we can call the police and let them verify whether I have any account ending in 8892.” Selena faltered. Something behind her eyes went uncertain as she looked at my steady expression. “That’s impossible. I exported that from Ethan’s phone myself. Your name is right there on the transfer.” “Names can match. You can even open accounts with fake ID.” I held her gaze, word by word. “Selena, you’ve been deceived.” “Someone used my name, created a fraudulent account, and took your money.” “You’re lying!” Selena’s voice shot up. “Ethan loves me. He would never do that.” “Whether he loves you or not isn’t my business. But I can tell you — whoever that ‘Ethan’ is on the phone, he is not the man you think he is.” I turned and looked at Vivian, who had been quietly pressing herself into the corner. “Vivian. What do you think?” Vivian flinched, her eyes darting sideways. “Why are you asking me? I don’t — I don’t know anything about this.” “You’re the operations director. Every client file, every identity verification — it all passes through you. If someone used my name to open a fake account, you’d be the first person to know.” I kept closing the distance. “Last month, you told me the platform needed an annual compliance review — took my original ID and a copy of the business license, and disappeared for an entire day. Where did you actually go?” Vivian went white. “I was turning in documents to the platform! You don’t get to accuse me of things! Selena is the one questioning you — stop dragging me into this!” A few longtime viewers who had been watching quietly started weighing in. “Attorney Marcus: Platform compliance reviews are fully online. There’s no reason to take original documents anywhere in person. Quinn, I strongly recommend calling the police. This looks like identity theft and fraud.” Attorney Marcus was a regular in my stream — a well-known criminal defense lawyer. His words hit the room like a grenade. “WAIT. Plot twist?!” “Best friend steals identity, opens fake account, scams the top donor?! No screenwriter would dare write this.” “If this is real, that best friend is genuinely evil.” Selena looked between me and Vivian, visibly losing the thread. “Quinn, stop performing! You think one little excuse wipes the slate clean?” “If it’s just an excuse, it’s easy enough to test.” I picked up my phone and opened SnapChat. “Selena — the number you just called. It’s linked to Ethan’s PayPal, right?” Selena watched me with guarded eyes. “What are you doing?” “That account ending in 8892 is in ‘Ethan’s’ hands. So right now, in front of millions of people — send one cent to that account.” The corner of my mouth lifted into something cold and sharp. “Put in the note: ‘Ethan — I’m watching the stream. Come find me.’” “Whoever’s phone goes off — that’s your ‘Ethan.’”

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Another heavy rain. The company security guard politely handed me an umbrella. “Miss Smith, you’re lucky. Your boyfriend’s here with an umbrella again.” I took it with a bitter smile. The truth was, I had left mine at home on purpose. We were only halfway through rainy season, and my boyfriend had brought me an umbrella twenty times. He had also gone to pick up his childhood sweetheart twenty times. A month ago, on a rainy day just like this one, I slipped and fell. Blood poured from my thigh in an instant. But my boyfriend hesitated. He asked if I could make it to the hospital on my own. Because he had not taken the girl home yet. Our baby was gone. Today I had deliberately told him I forgot my umbrella. The rain was heavy, and the subway had shut down. He replied with a single, flat “okay.” I really thought he would come. Until I saw his social media post. “I told her the rain was too heavy to go out and sketch, but she just had to. Lucky I was quick. Not a single drop landed on her.” I stared at it for a long time. Then I turned around, walked back into the office, and handed in my resignation. The rainy season in this city lasts too long. I am done waiting for someone to hold an umbrella over me.

The wind was fierce. By the time I got home, I was soaked through. The moment I pushed open the door, I saw Ethan grab a blanket and drape it gently over Autumn’s shoulders. “You’re back.” Ethan smiled at me. A perfectly standard, perfectly mechanical smile. Like it was just a step in a routine he had to get through. He went straight to the kitchen, and a few minutes later came back out carrying a bowl of hot soup and some cold medicine. “Here. Take these. Do not let yourself get chilled again.” I stayed standing in the doorway. Everything in front of me felt strangely foreign. When I miscarried, Ethan had only shown up with takeout. He had made a point of telling me he had carefully chosen something nutritious, reminding me to eat well for the next few days. I was in the hospital for seven days. He came once. Ethan said he was not good at taking care of people, so there was no point in him being there. Turns out, he just did not want to take care of me. With Autumn, Ethan was a completely different person. He blew on the soup carefully, cooling it before bringing the spoon to her lips. “It is still hot!” The moment she said it, he tensed up. A second later he tasted it himself. They shared the same spoon. Not a trace of hesitation on his face. How was this possible? Just a few days ago, I had found a coffee I really liked and slid it over to Ethan without thinking. He had immediately looked uncomfortable and wiped the straw with a napkin. He said lipstick was on it. But I had not been wearing any makeup that day. In the room, underneath the two of them laughing together, I could actually hear my own heartbeat. Loud and fast. It took Autumn a while to remember I was there. “Ava, why are you just standing in the doorway? Come eat with us.” Ethan looked a little awkward. He quickly ladled out a bowl for me. Hot soup with oil floating on top, smelling wonderful. But it turned bitter the moment it hit my mouth. This was not something I was meant to enjoy. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Autumn’s gaze darting around. “Ava, please do not read into anything. I just went out looking for some inspiration and ran into Ethan by coincidence.” At that, Ethan chimed in immediately. “Exactly. She just wanted to finish her draft sooner, which would take some of the workload off you too.” Both of them looked at me at the same time. Suddenly my throat felt like something was lodged in it. I could not make a sound. I had heard these words too many times. All twenty of those times before. None of it intentional. All of it coincidence. I genuinely did not know how they could be so certain I would keep believing it. When I did not answer, Autumn reached into her bag and pulled out her manuscript. My rational mind came back a little. Autumn was a bestselling manga artist. I was her editor. Before I quit, it had still been my job. I pushed my tears back down. I forced myself to focus and review her manuscript properly. Her art style was distinct and striking. But the plot always felt scattered. “This part does not work. The two leads just started dating. Why would they be showering together?” “You have to keep it grounded in reality.” Before I had even finished, Autumn frowned. Her expression was completely baffled. “It is realistic.” “Last time in Bali, Ethan scrubbed my back for me.”

For a moment, the air froze completely. Autumn realized she had said too much and quickly covered her mouth. My mind went blank. All the strength drained out of me. The manuscript slipped from my hands and scattered across the floor. I looked over at Ethan instinctively. He bent down and picked up the pages one by one. “This is not a big deal. We have bathed together since we were kids.” “Autumn has claustrophobia. I was just there to keep her company.” Just. Was this really something ordinary to them? Autumn spoke up too. “Exactly. It really was nothing.” “Even if Ethan was standing in front of me completely naked, I would not feel anything.” Ethan’s eyes went wide. He set the manuscript down, then reached over and put his arm around Autumn’s neck. He pretended to be offended. “Oh, is that right? Who was it that wrote in her diary she wanted to marry me when she grew up?” “So what? You said you would marry me too, and now look at you. You have a girlfriend.” As if nothing had happened at all. The two of them started bickering again. They kept talking, but I could not hear any of it anymore. If the Bali shower was real, then the other things in the manga… Traveling to Italy just to eat pizza. Holding each other for warmth while watching the northern lights. And that kiss neither of them could hold back after a rainstorm. All of it, straight from real life. “Ethan, how much have you been lying to me?” My words dropped the temperature in the room instantly. Ethan’s smile froze on his face. He pulled me into a corner and lowered his voice. “I brought you souvenirs from every trip. What more do you want?” “But you told me you were away for work!” I practically shouted it. I knew he had gone to Italy. What I did not know was that he had gone with Autumn. Looking back, Ethan had never lied to Autumn. If he was even a few minutes late to meet her, he would explain and apologize. He was so honest with her that I had thought that was just the kind of person he was. Only now did I understand. His honesty was reserved for Autumn. For me, a few gifts from the airport were enough. Just then, my eyes landed on the snow globe sitting on the shelf. He had told me he picked it out especially for me. I had been happy about it for a long time. But the moment I pictured Autumn standing beside him when he bought it, it was like something reached into my chest and squeezed. It hurt. The tears fell onto the floor. Ethan watched them fall. He seemed thrown off. “Come on. It is not that serious.” “Ava, do not overthink this. You are my girlfriend. Do you not trust me at all?” Then he reached into his pocket and held out a card. “This is the money I have been saving for our wedding. The PIN is your birthday.” I did not respond right away. I stood there staring at the card. I did not even notice when Autumn had moved closer. She looked at the card in my hand and her expression shifted. “Ava, you are not even married yet and you are already going after his finances?” Her tone was dripping with sarcasm, and it snapped me back to reality. But Ethan spoke first. “Enough.” Then he turned to me. “Nothing changes.” “The day after tomorrow, we go register.”

We had planned our registration date a long time ago. I had half expected Ethan to have forgotten. Even standing at the entrance of the marriage registration office, it felt like a dream. My phone buzzed. A message from my boss. “Ava, have you really decided to resign?” My mind was a mess. I had no idea what to say back. The wind was picking up. Before long I was shivering. I pulled my coat tighter and found a spot out of the wind. One hour passed, then another. I watched the wind die down and start up again, but Ethan never appeared. He had lied to me again. When I touched my ice-cold cheek, I felt a sudden urge to laugh. Calls went unanswered. Texts went unread. I walked all the way to the bank, and my phone stayed silent the entire time. At least the cold had cleared my head. I walked inside and checked the account balance. Before I entered the PIN, I still felt a small flicker of hope. Then I saw the number on the screen. Twenty thousand dollars. My chest went cold. Not enough for one of Autumn’s handbags. Ethan had been a senior engineer, then started his own company. It was not that he did not have money. He just was not willing to spend it on me. I stood outside the bank for a long time, then finally sent the message I had typed out. “I have decided. I am resigning.” My boss replied in seconds. “Come in first.” I supposed I had to deal with the paperwork anyway. I dried my tears and headed over. But the moment I stepped into the office, I was hit with a shower of confetti and streamers. “Congratulations, Ava!” My coworkers’ cheers filled my ears from every direction. I stood there completely lost, staring at them. Then someone threw an arm around my shoulder. “Do not hold back, Ava. Just laugh. Let it out.” “The latest issue went viral. The revenue is more than all of ours combined.” A coworker smiled and pushed the numbers in front of me. The figures were so big I had to count the digits twice. The comments had already crossed a million. The most-liked one asked whether the manga was based on real people. Autumn replied: yes. A few minutes later, she posted a video on her social media. “Thank you all for asking. Here is my boyfriend.” “Everything in the manga is just our everyday life.” I stared at the video without blinking. The noise around me seemed to dissolve into static. Because the person standing beside Autumn was Ethan.

When I found them, they were still grinning at their phones. Of course they were. The whole internet was busy envying this perfect fairy-tale couple. Each step I took felt heavier than the last. Ethan spotted me first. He pressed a quick kiss to Autumn’s forehead, then walked over to me fast and grabbed my arm, pulling me outside. “Let me explain.” His voice was calm. Like this was a minor inconvenience that could simply be smoothed over. “Explain? Explain what, exactly?” “My boyfriend chose the day we were supposed to register to go public with another woman. And I am supposed to celebrate that?” I told myself I could hold my ground. But the moment I opened my mouth, the tears came anyway. Seven years together. How did it end up like this? Ethan glanced at me. His brow furrowed immediately. “Why would you not celebrate? You are her editor. You get a bonus out of this too.” “I am just playing the role of her boyfriend temporarily.” Temporarily. Again with temporarily. I had heard that word from him so many times. I was done. “And if the story gets to a wedding and a baby, are you going to help her with that too—” “That is enough!” He cut me off before I could finish. When I looked at him again, he had turned into someone I did not recognize. His face was full of impatience. Like I was the one who had done something wrong. “Ava, when did you get so petty?” “Autumn’s dream since she was a little girl was to be a famous manga artist. I just want to help her make that happen. What is wrong with that?” He pressed a hand to his forehead and started pacing. Then he let out a long breath, like he was making a decision. He turned and looked at me. “Ava, there is something you should know. When you got into that graduate program years ago, I was the one who turned it down on your behalf. Then I introduced you to this company specifically so you would become Autumn’s editor.” “We have come this far. Let us just see it through. Help Autumn reach her dream first.” “After that, we can get back to our own plans. Okay?” Ethan’s voice had gone flat and even. But to me, it hit like a lightning strike out of a clear sky. I could not process what he had said. I almost could not understand the words. Back then, when I thought I had not gotten in, I had cried until I could not breathe. Ethan had held me in his arms and told me gently that there was still so much road ahead. And now he was telling me it was all his doing. So what did that make me? Even my own dream had to give way to Autumn. The memory of that breakdown came flooding back. Standing in front of him, I felt my chest fill with something burning. I raised my hand and slapped him as hard as I could. He did not move. He let me take out everything I had. Until my arm was too heavy to lift and I slid against the wall, crying until I had nothing left. “Feel better?” “Good. Now go back to work. The next issue needs to go out early.”

The company threw a celebration party. I did not go. I bought a bunch of drinks and wanted to drown everything out. I wanted to forget all of it, even just for a night. But I did not get that either. Even in my dreams, Ethan was there. We started with nothing. Sharing a tiny apartment, splitting a single bread roll, wrapped up in one blanket to stay warm. He had cheered me on completely when I wanted to go to grad school. He had sworn he would work hard and earn enough so I could focus on studying without worrying about a thing. Then Autumn came back, and everything changed. Just because they had grown up together? Because she was his childhood friend? But Autumn had gone abroad in high school. The time she had actually spent by his side was only five years. Ethan and I had been together for seven. Time was not the excuse. The truth was simple. Ethan never loved me. I fell into a heavy, painful sleep. And woke up to my phone buzzing. The moment I opened my eyes, I realized I had been crying in my sleep. I wiped my face and stared at the screen. The name trending on social media was mine. There was a photo taken yesterday. Me and Ethan, confronting each other outside the building. “Shameless. Going after someone else’s man in broad daylight.” “She is literally Autumn’s editor. Who knows what she has been doing behind the scenes to sabotage her.” “I just feel for Autumn. She makes the money, and this woman stabs her in the back.” I blinked. Going after someone else’s man. Me? That was almost funny. I was about to head to the office to deal with it, but before I even made it downstairs, I heard shouting outside. A group of angry fans had gathered at the building entrance. “Homewrecker, get down here! You want to steal someone’s man and hide from it?” I sighed. I knew I could not fight a crowd by myself, so I messaged Ethan. “Are not you going to clear this up?” I watched the typing indicator appear, then disappear. Nothing came through. Then a rock came flying through my window and shattered the glass. I rushed over to look and came face to face with the crowd below. “There she is! Get her!” I had no time to move. Objects started hitting me. Rotten eggs. Stones. Broken glass. One piece caught me directly across the cheek. Blood started running down my face, and the panic hit all at once. “Ethan, I am begging you, please. You are the only one who can stop this.” Finally, his message came through. It knocked the last of my hope clean out of me. “Fans have surrounded Autumn’s studio. I need to go get her.” “You will be okay on your own, right?” I was not okay. I woke up in the hospital with a long scar running down my cheek. If the police had not arrived when they did, that crowd might have killed me. I picked up my phone. Seven full days. Not a single message from Ethan. “Are you ready to explain yourself now?” I typed it out, feeling nothing. Ethan replied instantly. “There is nothing to explain right now. The buzz is at its peak and the manga just hit number one.” “Just hang in there a little longer, Ava.” I actually laughed reading that. I had watched Ethan put Autumn first for years. I had been patient long enough. I was done. I changed my flight to the earliest available and did not wait for any follow-up appointments. On the plane, I typed everything out as fast as I could. The second I had a signal, I posted it. If he was not going to clear my name, I would do it myself. An hour later, my phone started going crazy. “Ava, have you lost your mind?”

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“Just a tool for my pleasure. A kept woman, fine, but Mrs. King? No way.” Those were the words of the man I’d protected with my life for five years. Three years ago, I found him bleeding in an alley, dragging him back from the brink of death. I helped him navigate ruthless corporate battles, pulling him from bankruptcy to the pinnacle of success. When I said I wanted to see the Northern Lights, he chartered a private jet that very night. When I mentioned loving cherry blossoms, he bought and planted an entire mountainside for me. I thought this was love. Until that car hit me, dragging me for hundreds of feet. Then he walked into my hospital room, holding an agreement not to press charges, telling me to sign. “Brittany just got back from overseas; she can’t have this on her record.” Only then did I realize his ex-wife was back. And my existence was nothing more than a used rag, discarded when convenient. I dialed a number I hadn’t touched in years: “Code 0701, Valerie Shaw, requesting activation of the Phoenix Protocol.” They didn’t know I was never just an ordinary bodyguard.

Valerie Shaw POV Everyone in New York was buzzing about how Ethan King, notoriously cold and ruthless, was utterly captivated by his bodyguard, Valerie Shaw. For five years, he was almost obsessed with my body. The back seat of his Maybach, the penthouse club’s restrooms, private jet cabins… Even the dim, empty backstage of the annual company gala bore witness to our encounters. We explored every position, in every conceivable place. Our last time, we spent five days and four nights, going through ten bottles of lubricant. My heart, too, had gradually fallen deeper with each of those countless intimate moments. Until that sports car slammed into me, dragging me for hundreds of feet. Later, from my hospital bed, I overheard Ethan and the traffic cop talking outside my room. “This accident was just a mistake. Brittany just got back, she was nervous and didn’t see her. I’ll handle it; I won’t pursue any charges against her.” Brittany. The name, sharp as a needle, pierced my heart unexpectedly. That was the woman who had abandoned Ethan five years ago without a second thought—Ethan’s ex-wife. She was back?! Before I could even process the information, another slightly teasing male voice chimed in. It was Dr. Alex Stone, Ethan’s private physician and close friend. “Tsk, Mr. King, aren’t you rekindling old flames a bit too fast? You’re already protecting Brittany?” “Don’t tell me you’re still hung up on your ex-wife who dumped you?” A brief silence fell outside the door. A few seconds later, Ethan’s voice resonated again, “Her family forced her hand back then; she had no choice. Now that she’s back, I’ve decided to remarry her.” “Remarry?!” Alex’s voice shot up. “What about Valerie Shaw?” I instinctively clutched the sheets beneath me. Then, I heard the words that would shatter every belief I’d held for the past five years. “Valerie Shaw?” Ethan’s tone was light, dismissive, filled with indifference. “Just a tool for my pleasure. A kept woman, fine, but Mrs. King? No way…” “Given she’s been with me for five years and mostly compliant, if she’s sensible after the remarriage, I wouldn’t mind keeping her around.” A tool for my pleasure… My mind buzzed, a deafening explosion, and I felt all my blood rush backward to my head. Images started flashing before my eyes, uncontrollably. Five years ago, I had just finished dealing with loan sharks, covered in injuries, when I stumbled upon him in an alley—also covered in blood, barely clinging to life. I was the one who literally dragged him back from the edge of death. His first words upon waking were a plea for me to stay. Looking into his pleading eyes, my heart softened, and I finally nodded. In the days that followed, I stood by him as he carved a path through the brutal corporate world. Successfully transforming the crumbling, near-bankrupt King Enterprises into one of New York’s top corporations. Later, he’d charter a private jet to Iceland overnight just because I mentioned wanting to see the Northern Lights. When I said I loved cherry blossoms, he spent a fortune planting an entire mountainside of them for me. He’d even drive across half the city himself late at night just because I casually mentioned craving foie gras. He’d book all the major billboards and digital screens across the city for my birthday. When my mother’s condition worsened, with a single call, he brought in New York’s top specialists and covered all the expenses. I thought I had his unique affection, even fantasizing about marrying him. I never imagined that, in the end, it was all just my wishful thinking. The hospital room door swung open, and footsteps interrupted my reverie. Ethan walked in, holding a document. His gaze swept over my pale face, instinctively avoiding my eyes. He handed me the document, his voice carrying a hint of barely perceptible tension. “Just sign this. Brittany just got back; she can’t have a criminal record. I owe you one for this.” Seeing the agreement not to press charges, I slowly lifted my head, my bloodshot eyes fixed on the man before me. “Ethan,” I said, my voice hoarse and heartbroken, “What am I to you, really?” The mildness on Ethan’s face vanished instantly, replaced by annoyance at being questioned. “You heard?” He raised an eyebrow, then, as if too lazy to pretend, admitted directly, “Yes, it’s exactly as you heard.” “I can grant you any compensation you want, but Brittany didn’t do it on purpose. She’s fragile and easily startled.” His tone was firm, a commanding order, “Valerie Shaw, be good and sign the document.” “What if I don’t?” My voice trembled. Hearing this, he leaned closer to me, “Sign it, and you can stay by my side, just like before.” “Don’t sign, and I have all your dirty secrets. If they get out, I can’t guarantee you’ll walk away unscathed…” I looked at the face of the man I had loved for five years, and suddenly, he seemed utterly unfamiliar. A heart truly dies in an instant. I said nothing more, picked up the pen, and signed my name on the agreement not to press charges. Each letter I wrote felt like a knife carving into my own heart. Ethan picked up the signed document, a satisfied expression returning to his face. He reached out as usual, intending to smooth my stray hairs, as if nothing had just happened.

Valerie Shaw POV But just as his fingertips were about to touch me, I sharply turned my head, dodging his hand. “Don’t trouble yourself, Mr. King!” The words were harsh, but tears of heartache streamed down, uncontrollably. Even when gravely injured before, I would just bite my lip stubbornly, never letting tears fall easily. Ethan almost instinctively reached out to wipe away my tears, but a sudden phone call interrupted his gesture. In the end, he did nothing, turning and hurrying out of the room. The moment the door closed, I suddenly burst into laughter, my laughter echoing jarringly in the empty room. As I laughed, hot tears streamed down, falling in large drops onto my cheeks and hitting the sheets. After a long while, I wiped away my tears, then took out my phone and dialed a long-unused number. When the call connected, I took a deep breath, as if summoning all the strength left in my life, and slowly said: “Code 0701, Valerie Shaw, requesting activation of the Phoenix Protocol.” After Ethan left, he didn’t reappear for three whole days. But every morning, his assistant would bring carefully prepared gifts. On the fourth morning, the hospital room door opened again. When I saw Ethan’s tall, familiar figure, my heart, dormant for days, almost imperceptibly skipped a beat. However, that faint flutter instantly froze into ice when I saw the woman who followed closely behind him. It was her, Brittany Reed! The girl who, in high school, had ganged up on me in the bathroom stall, pouring dirty water on me, laughing and calling me the murderer’s daughter, leaving me speechless for half a year—that bully. Ethan’s ex-wife, Brittany, was that woman! Under the immense shock and fury, my body began to tremble violently, uncontrollably. Brittany released Ethan’s arm and quickly came to my bedside, her face filled with worry and apology. “Miss Shaw, how are you? I’m so sorry, it’s all my fault, I was too careless driving…” Her voice was soft and frail, and she reached out, intending to take my hand. The next second, she leaned closer and whispered, in a voice only we could hear, “Long time no see, murderer’s daughter. Did you miss me?” Murderer’s daughter. The words sharply pierced my eardrums. “Scream, why aren’t you screaming? Didn’t your murderer father teach you how to beg for mercy?!” Brittany’s piercing laugh from years ago instantly replayed in my mind. “Don’t touch me!” Almost instinctively, I used all my strength to violently swat away Brittany’s outstretched hand. Brittany gasped, stumbling backward. Her hand accidentally knocked over the IV stand next to the bed. “Brittany!” Ethan’s face changed instantly. He rushed forward, pulling Brittany protectively into his arms. And the heavy IV stand crashed, squarely and forcefully, onto my chest, which was wrapped in thick bandages. A metallic taste instantly surged into my throat. I felt my vision blacken from the pain and coughed up a mouthful of blood. “Ethan, I didn’t mean to, Miss Shaw…” Brittany buried her face in Ethan’s chest, her voice choked with sobs, trembling. Ethan held her tightly, looking at me with undisguised blame and anger. “Valerie Shaw, what the hell are you doing?!” I wanted to speak, to tell him who this woman was, to tell him what she had done to me. But the searing pain in my chest and the blood clogging my throat allowed me only to emit broken, gurgling sounds, unable to utter a single word. I could only stare desperately at Ethan, hoping he would give me a chance to explain, or at least a flicker of trust in his eyes. But the next second, Ethan picked up the unharmed Brittany, didn’t spare me another glance, and turned to leave the room. Watching their retreating backs, I finally couldn’t hold on, and fainted from the pain. When I woke again, I found myself not in the hospital room, but in a moving car. Two bodyguards in black suits sat beside me, Ethan’s men. “Miss Shaw, Mr. King instructed us to take you back to the villa to recover.” The car soon pulled into the villa I had lived in for five years, a place so familiar it felt like home. As I was helped inside, I stopped abruptly. The living room was filled with another woman’s belongings, and the air was thick with an unfamiliar, sickly sweet perfume. In the kitchen, Ethan was carefully simmering something. I remembered he never used to enter the kitchen. Ethan looked up at the sound, his gaze sweeping past me without a pause. “You’re back just in time. Brittany is delicate and needs someone to look after her. From today on, your duty is to protect her personally.” I followed his gaze. Brittany was gracefully descending the stairs. She walked to Ethan’s side and gave me an innocent, harmless smile: “Won’t this be too much trouble for Miss Shaw? Her injuries aren’t fully healed.” Ethan wrapped an arm around her shoulder, his voice gentle in a way I’d never heard before: “This is what she’s supposed to do.” Then his gaze shifted to me, his eyes holding an undeniable command: “Did you hear me?!” I looked up at the face I had loved and followed for five years, my nails digging deep into my palms. For the first time, I refused him. “I won’t.”

Valerie Shaw POV “What did you say?” He looked up, his deep eyes, for the first time, tinged with clear displeasure at my defiance. I took a deep breath, suppressing the bitterness churning in my chest, and pointed directly at the seemingly innocent woman beside him. “Ethan King, do you know what she once did…” “Valerie Shaw.” Ethan cut me off without ceremony, his voice turning cold. “What I say, goes! Don’t forget your duty as a bodyguard!” Duty. A bodyguard’s duty was unconditional obedience. I had seen what happened to those who disobeyed Ethan’s orders. The rest of my words instantly caught in my throat. I ultimately didn’t refuse again. After all, I didn’t want any more trouble before I left. In the afternoon, Ethan went out on business, leaving only Brittany and me in the villa. I had intended to retreat to my room, trying to avoid contact, but Brittany clearly had no intention of letting me off the hook. She swayed elegantly to the center of the living room, surveying it like her own territory, her gaze sweeping over the furniture and decor. Finally, it rested on the rug Ethan and I had once chosen together. “It’s exactly the same as five years ago, Ethan really hasn’t changed a bit.” I clenched my jaw, offering no response. Brittany didn’t seem to care. She leaned back languidly on the sofa, crossing her legs, and said softly, “I’m thirsty. Get me a glass of water.” I stood my ground, unmoving. Seeing this, Brittany picked up the cup of hot tea a maid had just prepared for her and leisurely walked over to me. “What? Ethan just left, and you’re already disobedient?” Before she finished speaking, she splashed the scalding hot tea directly onto my face and neck. My body reacted faster than my brain. I sharply recoiled half a step. But my still-injured body slowed me down. A large portion of the tea still splashed onto my face and neck, turning my skin red instantly. Brittany chuckled, her eyes filled with malicious glee. She then casually tossed the cup to the floor, extending her foot to tap the ground with her shoe tip. “Now, hurry up and kneel to clean my shoes.” I sharply lifted my head, my hands clenched tight. “Can’t you understand me? Do you really think that just because you slept with Ethan King for a few years, you could become Mrs. King? Have you forgotten your place?” Brittany spoke slowly, her smile venomous. “Or is it that the inherent baseness from your murderer father makes you unable to even comply with basic orders—?” “Slap! Slap!” Before she could finish, two crisp, loud slaps landed hard on her face. Just then, the sound of the front door opening came from the entrance. Ethan immediately saw my reddened hand and the glaring slap marks on Brittany’s face. His voice was cold as ice, “Valerie Shaw, who gave you permission to hit her?!” “She called me the murderer’s daughter!” My voice trembled. Ethan’s eyes narrowed, his gaze lingering for a moment on my scalded neck. Brittany immediately clutched Ethan’s sleeve, tears falling precisely like broken pearls. “Ethan, how could I say such a thing? Knowing what happened to Miss Shaw’s father, I only feel sad for her…” “I just saw her standing there looking tired and wanted to invite her to sit and rest. Perhaps I spoke too quickly, and she misunderstood…” Brittany’s tearful appearance tugged at Ethan’s heart. He turned to me, his voice chilling, “No matter what she said, it wasn’t a reason for you to lay hands on her!” “Besides, Brittany wasn’t wrong about your father.” All my words caught in my throat. Years ago, he was framed, his company on the verge of bankruptcy. Devastated by his divorce from Brittany, he was utterly despondent. To encourage him to get back on his feet, I had revealed my most painful, bloodiest scar to him, begging him not to give up. But now, he was using that very knife, given to him by me, to ruthlessly stab me. My heart ached as if pierced by a thousand needles. I found it hard to breathe. Seeing my instantly pale face and my swaying body, a flicker of almost imperceptible pain crossed Ethan’s eyes. But in the end, he said coldly: “This is the first time, and it will be the last. If I ever see you lay hands on Brittany again, I will not let you off the hook!” With that, he didn’t look at me again, carefully putting his arm around the sobbing Brittany, and turned to leave the room. I stood frozen in place, unmoving. I watched their retreating backs and then suddenly chuckled softly. I realized that when your heart is truly dead, there are no tears left to cry.

Valerie Shaw POV After that day, I stopped resisting, and I stopped holding onto hope. I was like a hollow shell, mechanically carrying out Ethan’s orders, tending to Brittany’s needs. Two days later, Ethan hosted a lavish gala to celebrate Brittany’s return. All of New York’s elite attended, and as Brittany’s bodyguard, I naturally had to be there. But even standing in a corner for the entire evening, I still attracted plenty of whispers. “She actually dared to show up?” “Look at her. She thought she could marry Ethan King, but now his ex-wife is back, and she has to give up her place immediately.” “She’s just a bodyguard, after all…” Odd glances and unpleasant whispers constantly invaded my ears. I kept my eyes slightly lowered, my hands at my sides unconsciously clenching. Throughout the entire auction, if Brittany so much as glanced at a collectible, Ethan would bid without hesitation, buying it at a high price. Until the final item was brought out. When the auctioneer removed the cover, and the giant digital screen behind him simultaneously displayed the photos. The entire hall fell silent instantly, then erupted in uproar. My breath hitched. They were my private photos. Asleep, wrapped in a towel fresh from the shower, a bare back, various dazed moments after sex… All photos he had taken of me over these five years, when I was completely unsuspecting. I snapped my head towards Ethan. His back stiffened almost imperceptibly. Brittany chose that moment to walk onto the stage, took the microphone, and said in a sweet voice, “Everyone, please don’t misunderstand. I gave these photos to the auction house.” “Miss Shaw has protected Ethan for many years and worked incredibly hard. I just wanted to use this opportunity to find her a good husband so she can settle down and start a family, without having to work so hard anymore…” “These photos are meant to show everyone that Miss Shaw, once she sheds her bodyguard identity, is also a lovely and endearing girl. So, let’s start the bidding at one dollar!” One dollar. A single, light sentence, trampling my last shred of dignity into the dirt. The gazes from the audience instantly turned blatant, filled with scrutiny and amusement. Many secretly glanced at Ethan’s reaction. Seeing that he merely wore a grim expression, showing no reaction, their courage grew. “Fifty!” “A hundred!” “Five hundred!” The rising and falling bids, mixed with low chuckles, felt like whips lashing my skin. I stood there, feeling like I was being peeled open inch by inch, displayed for amusement. My strong self-respect wouldn’t allow me to endure this. I abruptly stood up, my voice trembling: “I’ll bid two hundred thousand for all of them!” That was all my available savings. The hall quieted for a moment. However, a slick male voice immediately followed: “One million! Miss Shaw, come with me, I guarantee it’ll be much more comfortable than being a bodyguard!” It was Mr. Henderson, a notorious playboy in social circles. I heard he’d ruined the lives of at least three women. I panicked, instinctively looking at Ethan, who was seated in the VIP section. But he merely watched, expressionless, his gaze so indifferent it showed no flicker of emotion. Finally, the gavel fell. The last string in my heart snapped along with it. After returning from the auction, I completely shut myself off. I didn’t cry or make a fuss. I just clutched my phone day and night, waiting for the call that would take me away.

Valerie Shaw POV Just as I was almost consumed by despair, the call finally came. The agency informed me that everything was ready. I could leave in five days, and my mother would be safely escorted out before then. “Okay, I’ll wait for you to pick me up.” Just as I ended the call, the door to my room was pushed open. Ethan stood in the doorway, his eyes sharp: “Pick you up? Where are you going?” I lowered my gaze, lying, “Mr. King must have misheard. In New York, without your permission, I have nowhere to go.” Ethan stared at me for a few seconds. He still looked suspicious, but he didn’t press further. “I’ve bought back and destroyed those photos from Mr. Henderson at the auction.” His voice was a bit stiff. “Brittany is pure-hearted and sometimes acts without thinking, but her intentions were good. Don’t blame her.” I quietly replied, “Okay.” Ethan paused, surprised. “You’re not angry?” “No.” Ethan’s tone softened even more. “I know you’ve been through a lot these past few days. Actually…” “If you have nothing else, Mr. King, please leave. I need to rest.” I interrupted him. With that, I turned my back to him. I felt Ethan’s gaze on me for a long time. Finally, he placed a box on the table. “For you.” Then he closed the door and left. I opened my eyes, picked up the jewelry box, and threw it directly into the trash can. Over the next few days, I counted down the days until my departure. But what came first was a call from my mother’s primary doctor. “Miss Shaw, your mother’s condition has suddenly worsened. You should come immediately!” My heart dropped. I rushed out of the guest room but was blocked by expressionless bodyguards. The commotion alerted Ethan. “What’s all the fuss about now?” He frowned, looking at me. “My mother is in trouble; please let me go to the hospital.” I said urgently. Ethan looked at me in silence for a few seconds. This was the first time I had let him see me so distraught and helpless. A subtle flicker of hesitation crossed his deep eyes. “Let her go. Send men to follow and keep an eye on her.” Given permission, I bolted out of the villa like a madwoman. I rushed into the hospital room, only to see my mother’s ashen face, her chest heaving violently. Seeing me, tears welled in my mother’s cloudy eyes. Her frail hand gripped mine tightly, her lips trembling as she squeezed out a single sentence. “A woman came… she said… I was holding you back…” A woman? A surge of immense fear and hatred instantly overwhelmed me. I gripped my mother’s hand tightly, my whole body trembling. “Mom, don’t listen to her nonsense… You’re not…” Before I could finish, the monitoring machine suddenly let out a piercing alarm. Doctors rushed in, and I was asked to leave the room. Soon, the emergency room door opened, and I received the news I dreaded most. As I forced my nearly collapsing body into the room, I saw my mother lying peacefully there, as if merely asleep. My chest felt hollow, as if a piece had been ripped out, yet there was no blood left to bleed. I handled my mother’s funeral alone. I didn’t shed a single tear, just quietly signed all the documents, watching as the staff handed me the small wooden urn. Clutching the urn, I walked out of the funeral home and hailed a car.

Valerie Shaw POV The car stopped at the villa gates. Inside, Brittany was casually lounging on the sofa, flipping through a fashion magazine. Hearing the commotion, she looked up. When she saw me and the striking black urn in my arms, a flicker of surprise crossed her face, quickly turning into undisguised mockery. “Well, well, holding someone’s…” “Brittany Reed!” My voice was hoarse and broken. I walked step by step toward Brittany. “The nurse said you visited my mother the day she died. What did you say to her?!” Brittany watched my distraught state, a malicious smile she couldn’t control spreading across her lips. She stood up, took two steps closer, and in a voice only we could hear, whispered: “I just told her that her daughter was as useless as she was, couldn’t keep a man, couldn’t keep her dignity, like a pathetic worm serving as someone’s… Ah!” Before she finished, the next second, I had already raised my hand and delivered a stinging slap across her face. Brittany shrieked, stumbling back into the nearby wine rack, sending expensive bottles crashing to the floor. My eyes were blood red, and I raised my hand to strike again. Almost simultaneously, a figure rushed forward, faster, and shoved me hard to the ground. My spine hit the floor, and my hands and feet were cut by glass shards, making my face turn ashen from pain. But Ethan paid no attention, his eyes filled only with cold fury and accusation. “Valerie Shaw, what are you trying to do now?!” My knuckles turned white as I gripped the floor, gritting my teeth. “She killed my mother; she should pay for her crime!” “Ethan, I didn’t…” Brittany immediately grabbed Ethan’s lapel, her eyes reddened. “You don’t need to explain, I believe you.” Ethan gently cut her off. The next second, his gaze returned to me. “Brittany has always been kind-hearted since she was a child; she wouldn’t even step on an ant. Do you think everyone is like you, with a murderer’s blood in their veins?” Do you think everyone is like you? I looked at his handsome yet utterly unfamiliar face, at Brittany’s victorious gaze from his embrace. Summoning courage from somewhere, I lunged forward and slapped Ethan hard across the face. Ethan’s head snapped to the side from the force of the slap. He turned back, disbelieving, his eyes filled with shock and fury. He was about to speak, but the next second, meeting my bloodshot but hateful eyes, he said nothing. In the end, he simply picked up Brittany. “Out of respect for your mother’s passing, I won’t blame you for this slap. But you’d better pray Brittany is okay.” He then called in the bodyguards: “Keep a close eye on her.” And so, I was confined again. After an unknown amount of time, urgent footsteps sounded outside the door again. Ethan had returned, his face terrifyingly cold. “Brittany’s wrist was almost fractured. She might not be able to play the piano again. She’s been crying, saying it hurts terribly.” I showed no reaction, simply holding the urn tightly in my arms. Ethan grew even more enraged at my demeanor. He stepped forward, snatched the urn from my arms, and casually tossed it to a nearby bodyguard. My pupils constricted. Just as I was about to lunge to retrieve it, the bodyguards slammed me to the ground. “Ethan King! What are you doing? Give me back my mother!” Ethan’s eyes showed no flicker of emotion. He took out his phone, dialed a number, and put it on speaker.

Valerie Shaw POV The call was quickly answered, and Brittany’s fragile, somewhat aggrieved voice came through: “Ethan?” “Brittany,” Ethan’s tone was deliberately soft, “Does it still hurt?” “Mm… it hurts.” Brittany’s voice, thick with tears, reached me. “Don’t be scared,” his voice was chillingly gentle, “I’ll make her apologize to you right now.” Before he finished speaking, he gave a look to the bodyguard. One bodyguard pinned my right arm, the other grabbed my wrist, and with a sudden, forceful twist in the opposite direction. “Snap!” The crisp, sharp sound of bone fracturing echoed loudly in the empty basement. “Ah!” My body shuddered violently. I screamed, then passed out from the excruciating pain. When I regained consciousness, I was in a guest room, on a hospital bed. Dr. Alex Stone, who came to reset and cast my bone, trembled violently, his eyes bloodshot. “How could he…” But I was eerily calm, as if the pain didn’t belong to me. I just quietly gazed out the window at the gray sky, waiting for an opportunity to leave. Fortunately, that opportunity was soon handed to me by Brittany herself. Two days later, in the afternoon, Brittany disappeared. Ethan mobilized all his resources, searching the entire city, but found nothing. A day later, an extremely degrading video began circulating on the dark web. In the video, a dozen dirty homeless men were assaulting a woman who bore a striking resemblance to Brittany. The video production was crude, but Ethan, frantic with worry, didn’t notice any anomalies. He didn’t even wait for his assistant to fully investigate before ordering me to be taken to an abandoned building. “Tell me! Where did you hide Brittany?!” He grabbed my neck, his grip so powerful I instantly gasped for air. “To use such despicable methods, I never knew you were so malicious!” My face was turning blue from his grip. I struggled to squeeze out the words: “I don’t know…” “Still playing dumb!” He abruptly released me. “Besides you, who else would harbor such deep hatred for Brittany?!” “Since you won’t speak, don’t blame me for being ruthless!” He stepped back and waved at a bodyguard. The next second, a saltwater-soaked leather whip slashed brutally across my thin back. “Crack!” A red welt immediately bloomed on my pale skin. I trembled from the pain, but bit down hard on my lower lip, refusing to make a sound. “Continue!” The bodyguard raised the whip again. One lash, then another. After an unknown amount of time, the whipping finally stopped. Ethan knelt, grasping my chin. “I want you to pay double for what Brittany went through!” “Bring those homeless men in!” he commanded sternly toward the door. My unfocused pupils suddenly constricted. “Ethan King, you can’t do this to me! You’ll regret it!” Ethan’s turning motion paused briefly. A flicker of emotion seemed to flash in his eyes, but it was quickly covered by anxiety and fury. “You forced my hand!” Leaving those words, he left without looking back. Soon after, hurried footsteps, mingled with crude language and lewd laughter, approached from nearby. I tried to struggle to my feet, but my injuries made it impossible to move. I could only watch helplessly as those foul-smelling, lecherous homeless men walked towards me. One of them banged a grin, his voice vile: “Today, I’ll bring you pleasure…” As he spoke, he reached out his dirty hand, about to tear at my clothes. My stomach churned. Just as his fingertips were about to touch my collar. With the last vestiges of my strength, I lunged upward from the floor, crashing through the nearby window, and threw myself down.

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“Miss Smith, our records show that you are unmarried.” The clerk turned the screen toward me. “The spouse field on Mr. Carter Gordon’s profile is registered to another woman.” I stared at the familiar name on the screen. Mandy Lynn, the secretary he had kept close for two years. Everyone said Carter Gordon loved me to his core. But it turned out the woman he called his “wife” was someone else entirely. And I had spent five years as the punchline of a joke I never knew was being told. I dialed a number. “Help me erase my identity. The sooner, the better.” Since he had given someone else the title, there was no reason for Tara to exist anymore. Tara’s POV In the fifth year of my relationship with Carter Gordon, my visa hit a snag. Several international preschools in New York were organizing a joint six-month exchange program in Canada next month. As the lead teacher on the trip, I had taken a half day off to visit the immigration office and update my documentation. The clerk tapped at her keyboard, frowning slightly, checking the information on her screen several times before finally looking up at me. “Miss Tara Smith, your marital status doesn’t match what you filled in. The system shows you as currently unmarried.” I blinked, then gave a gentle smile. “Could there be a mistake? My husband and I registered here in New York three years ago. We even paid for expedited processing.” The clerk turned the screen toward me and pointed to a line of text. “Our system syncs in real time. It doesn’t make errors. You are registered as unmarried. However, the spouse field on Mr. Gordon’s profile is registered to another woman.” A name was printed clearly on the screen: Mandy Lynn. A sharp ringing filled my ears. The sounds around me fell away, leaving nothing but a high-pitched hum. Mandy Lynn. I knew that name far too well. During the two years I had been in San Francisco completing my early childhood education certification, she had been the secretary Gordon kept at his side. His explanation at the time was that the pressure of work had grown too heavy. He needed a capable assistant to handle the smaller things. That was all. I have no memory of walking out of the immigration office. The early autumn air hit me like a wall of cold. I clutched the rejected paperwork in both hands and sank numbly into the driver’s seat of my car. My phone screen lit up. A message from Gordon popped onto the display. “Sweetie, it’s getting cold in New York today. Make sure you bundle up. I pushed back the afternoon conference call and went to stand in line at that bakery you love. I picked up the chestnut cake. Come home early tonight, okay? I want to spend the evening with you.” I stared at those words until my eyes burned. Not a single tear came. Five years. Gordon’s devotion to me was known all across New York. Once, I said offhand that I loved the ocean. He bought a private island off the coast of Los Angeles and built a lighthouse on it, naming it after me. When I mentioned feeling sorry for the preschool children having to play outside in the cold, he wrote a check for a fully climate-controlled indoor children’s center, built right in the heart of the city where land costs a fortune. I was afraid of the dark, so every night he turned down every invitation and every dinner, staying in to hold my hand and talk me to sleep. Everyone said Gordon loved me down to the bone. But it turned out, buried inside that love was a lie this big. I pulled in a slow breath, forced down the nausea rising in my stomach, and drove back to the house. I pushed open the front door and heard voices in the living room. Gordon and his friend Oliver were talking. “You skipped out of the office again to go buy cake?” Oliver teased. Something envious hid beneath the humor. “Mandy, your whole devoted-husband thing never lets up, does it?” Gordon stretched out on the sofa, legs crossed, voice lazy with amusement. “She deserves to be spoiled. She should always feel like the most treasured person in the world.” “Fair enough.” Oliver dropped the teasing and lowered his voice. “But what are you doing about Mandy? If Tara ever finds out, you know her. She’ll walk.” I stood in the shadow of the doorway and stopped breathing. Every drop of blood in my body seemed to freeze. Gordon turned his lighter over in his fingers. The faint metallic click filled the silence. His voice was perfectly casual. “She’s not going to find out.” “But what if she does?” “Mandy and I have been together two years. She has severe depression. She can’t function without me.” Gordon’s tone was calm in a way that was frightening. “Marrying her is the only security I can give her.” “Tara has all of my love. She has the status, the respect, everything that comes with being with me. Mandy has to stay hidden. I use the marriage to keep her stable. It’s not a big deal.” Oliver let out a long breath. “What you’re doing is dangerous. Who do you actually love?” “Tara, obviously.” No hesitation. “But Mandy… I can’t let go of her either.” I pressed my back against the cold wall. The pain was so sharp it reached into my lungs. He had never wanted to choose. He wanted both. He had used me as the window display, the proof of how deeply he could love, while keeping Mandy tucked away inside his real life. I turned and left the house without making a sound. I didn’t storm inside. I didn’t scream or cry or demand answers. The pain was so absolute it had turned my mind perfectly clear. If he was so certain I would never find out, then I would make sure he could never find me again. I took out my phone and dialed an encrypted number. “I need to erase my identity. As quickly as possible.”

Tara’s POV Erasing my identity would take two weeks. I sat in the car for a long time, waiting until the feeling inside me had gone completely quiet. Then I walked back through the front door of the house. Gordon was in the kitchen, apron tied around his waist, moving between the counter and the stove. He heard me come in and carried out the tray of chestnut cake he had just pulled from the oven. His eyes were warm enough to drown in. “You’re back. Go wash your hands. Come try this. I learned a new recipe.” I looked at his face. That handsome, familiar face. It felt absurd now. I forced the nausea back down and kept my voice flat. “I’m exhausted from work today. I’m not hungry.” Gordon stepped forward and pulled me into him, resting his chin at the curve of my neck. “What’s going on? Did the kids at school give you a hard time again? I’ll have my assistant send over some new toys tomorrow to cheer them up.” He always knew exactly how to take care of me. If I hadn’t heard those words with my own ears, I would have gone on believing I was the luckiest woman alive. “Don’t bother.” I pulled away, my voice distant. He blinked and started to say something. Then his phone buzzed on the table. He glanced at the screen. Something shifted in his expression. He picked up the call quickly. “I’ll be right there.” He hung up and looked at me with an apologetic expression. “Sweetie, something’s come up at work. I have to handle it. Don’t wait up for me, okay? Eat something.” I watched his back disappear through the door. I picked up my keys and followed him. His car didn’t go to the office. It stopped in front of one of the most exclusive private residences in the city. I followed him all the way to the top floor. Through the gap in the barely-closed door came the muffled sound of a woman crying. “Gordon, I’m so scared. Every time I close my eyes, I feel like you’re going to leave me.” Mandy was curled into the corner of the sofa, face pale, fragile. Gordon dropped to one knee in front of her and pulled her tightly against him. His voice carried a patience I had never once heard him offer me. “Don’t be scared. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.” “But Tara…” “Don’t bring her up.” He reached into his jacket pocket and produced a small velvet box. “Look what I brought you.” Inside the box was a custom star-dial watch. I went cold where I stood outside that door. That watch. I had spent the better part of six months on it. I had drawn the design myself, sourced the craftsman myself, and had it built from scratch as a birthday gift for Gordon next month. A few days ago I had noticed it was gone, and he had told me, soothingly, that one of the housekeeping staff had probably moved it somewhere by mistake. He had taken it to give to another woman. “It’s so beautiful…” Mandy’s tears dissolved into a smile. “Is this for me?” “Of course.” He fastened it around her wrist himself. “As long as you sleep well tonight, you can have anything you want.” I turned and walked away. Moving through the noise of the street outside, all I felt was a hollow kind of absurdity. Everything I had once guarded as precious, he had handed over as a prop to soothe someone else. At ten o’clock that night, Gordon sent a message. “Working through the night at the office. Get some rest. Good night.” I read it, turned the phone off, and dropped it in the drawer. The days that followed, I went to work as usual. I poured everything I had into the children. Looking at their open, uncomplicated faces was the only thing that made the dull ache in my chest go quiet for a little while. On the weekend, Gordon surprised me with a gesture meant to make up for lost time. He rented out the city’s most prominent arts center and threw a lavish gallery exhibition filled entirely with my casual sketches and doodles. “He really is something else, treating his wife’s little drawings like fine art.” “That’s real love. Everyone in this city knows how much he adores her.” I stood among the murmuring guests, champagne glass in hand, smiling at nothing. Then a familiar figure crossed the entrance of the gallery. Mandy had arrived in a couture gown, moving between the guests with easy confidence in her official capacity as director of the exhibition. I set my glass down and headed toward the restroom. I had just rounded the corner when I heard voices drifting through the gap in the door of a side room.

Tara’s POV “You look stunning tonight.” Gordon’s voice was low, rough, stripped of any pretense. “Stop it. There are people right outside.” Mandy laughed and pushed him back. “What if Tara sees us?” “So what if she does?” He let out a quiet laugh and pressed her against the door. “She’s just a sweet little preschool teacher. What does she know about any of this? This whole gallery night is just a toy to keep her happy. You’re the one who stands beside me when it actually counts.” The sound of fabric shifting in the silence of the corridor felt unbearably loud. I stood outside that door, my nails cutting into my palms, leaving marks in the skin. A sweet little preschool teacher. So that was all I was to him. My work, the things I loved, the person I was. Nothing more than a pet he kept around for amusement. I breathed in slowly, turned away from the door, and walked back into the gallery. The closing event of the evening was a charity auction. The final item was a painting called Starry Night, made by one of my students, a little boy on the autism spectrum. He had worked on it for a full month. I had been planning to buy it myself and give it back to him as a gift, a way of telling him how proud I was. Opening bid: a hundred thousand dollars. I raised my paddle. “Five hundred thousand.” The moment the words left my mouth, a clear voice rang out from the front row. “One million.” I turned. The paddle belonged to Mandy. She looked back at me over her shoulder, a small, deliberate smile on her face. I kept my expression neutral and raised my paddle again. “Two million.” “Three million.” Mandy didn’t flinch. The room had begun to murmur. The atmosphere shifted into something uneasy. I was about to raise my paddle again when a warm hand closed around my wrist. Gordon had reappeared at my side. He leaned in close and spoke quietly. “Let it go, sweetheart. It’s just a kid’s drawing. It’s not worth this.” I looked at him steadily. “It’s my student’s painting. It means a great deal to me.” I pulled my wrist free and started to lift the paddle. Gordon reached past me and signaled the auctioneer directly. “Three million. Put it on my account.” The room erupted. In front of everyone in attendance, he had outbid his own partner on a painting she wanted, and handed it to another woman. Mandy walked to the stage, accepted the painting, and smiled with complete satisfaction. “Thank you for your generosity. I’ll hang it in my office, a daily reminder of the importance of giving back.” I sat in the audience and watched the two of them on that stage. My stomach turned. Gordon looked back at me. His voice was gentle but carried an edge that left no room for argument. “Mandy’s been running a charity campaign that needed a centerpiece. That painting is perfect for it. If you want something like that, I’ll have the boy paint ten more for you tomorrow.” I looked at the complete reasonableness on his face and let out a small laugh. “Sure.” I didn’t argue. I gave him a quiet smile instead. After the auction ended, Gordon reached for my hand. I moved away before he could take it. “I’m tired. I want to head home.” I walked to my car without looking back. The following morning, the preschool’s official social media account was flooded with hostile comments and coordinated attacks. Mandy had posted a photo of Starry Night on Instagram with the caption: “Sometimes what looks like generosity is really just a performance. Some people will compete with those who are genuinely doing good just to keep up appearances.” The replies were vicious, calling me manipulative, a bully hiding behind a charitable image. Some users had dug up the school’s address and were threatening to show up in person. Our director was beside herself, begging me to find a way to make it stop. I called Gordon. “Have you seen what’s happening online?” I asked, keeping my voice level. He sounded drained on the other end. “Tara, she just posted something on a whim. She wasn’t targeting you. People are reading too much into it.” “So what do you think I should do?” “Post a statement on the school account. Apologize. Say it was a misunderstanding at the auction. I’ll get the content taken down.” The anger that hit me was almost funny. “You want me to apologize?”

Tara’s POV “Tara, don’t be difficult.” His tone shifted, taking on that particular weight he used when he expected compliance. “The story is spreading fast. If you don’t get ahead of it now, the school is going to take real damage. I’ve already talked to Mandy. She’s deleted the post. All you have to do is take the high road, and this goes away.” He made it sound so simple. To protect whatever was left of Mandy’s feelings, he was asking the person who had been wronged to bow her head to the person who had done the wronging. My knuckles went white around the phone, but my voice stayed even. “And if I don’t?” “Tara.” He exhaled, and something cold threaded through his words. “The fire safety inspections at the school have been non-compliant for a while now. I’d hate to see the place get shut down over it.” My breath stopped. He was threatening me. Using the school I had put everything into. Using children who had done nothing wrong. Using them to force me to surrender. “You’re disgusting,” I said. Then I hung up. Thirty minutes later, fire inspectors arrived at the school. They cited ongoing safety violations and issued a mandatory three-day closure notice. I stood in the doorway and watched the children leave in their backpacks, their parents collecting them with expressions ranging from confused to outraged. My chest felt like something inside it was being cut apart. I stood alone in the empty classroom, looking at the drawings the children had taped to the walls, all those small, joyful faces, and made the call. “I’ll apologize.” That afternoon, I posted a statement on the school’s account. I acknowledged that my emotions had gotten the better of me at the auction and expressed regret for any distress I had caused Ms. Lynn. The backlash dissolved almost immediately. That evening, Gordon came home. He walked in carrying a glossy shopping bag, stopped in front of me, and spoke in the soothing voice he used when he thought he was fixing things. “You had a rough day. This is for you, the pink diamond necklace you mentioned a while back. I had it flown in from overseas.” I looked at the necklace glittering against the velvet. I didn’t even blink. “Just set it down.” Gordon frowned slightly. He could feel the distance in me. He pulled me into his arms with careful patience. “Still upset? I was protecting you and the school. I’ve already made it very clear to Mandy that this kind of thing is not acceptable. She won’t cause trouble for you again.” I let him hold me. My body was rigid as a plank of wood. “Gordon,” I said quietly. “Do you love me?” He pressed his lips to my forehead without a moment’s hesitation. “Of course I do. You’re the only one.” I closed my eyes to hide what was behind them. The only one. He loved me so completely that he had built our entire relationship on a lie. He had taken what I made with my own hands and used it to comfort another woman. He had leveraged the thing I cared most about to make me swallow every humiliation without a word. His love was cheap and terrifying in equal measure. A few days later, Mandy hosted a private party on her yacht and invited a large portion of New York’s social circle. I had no interest in going, but Gordon insisted, claiming the sea air would do me good. On the deck, Mandy was at the center of everything in a white bikini, surrounded by guests. When she spotted me, she drifted over with a glass of champagne, her smile perfectly innocent. “Tara, I feel terrible about everything that happened. Let’s drink to a fresh start.” I met her gaze without warmth. “I’ll pass. I have a sensitivity to alcohol.” Mandy’s smile flickered. Something calculated moved behind her eyes. Then her ankle gave way. She lurched sideways and went straight over the railing. “Ah!” The scream split the air. Mandy hit the water. The deck erupted into chaos. “Someone’s in the water!” “Tara pushed her. I saw it! I was standing right there!” Mandy’s friend was already pointing at me, voice loud enough for everyone to hear. I hadn’t had time to react before a shape shot past me and went over the side without hesitation. Gordon. He reached Mandy in the water, got his arm under her, and held her up until they were pulled back onto the deck. She was shaking with cold and had both arms locked around his neck. Gordon draped his jacket over her shoulders and turned to look at me. His eyes were ice.

Tara’s POV “Tara, you’ve let me down.” His voice carried over the sound of the wind off the water, stripped of anything warm. I stood where I was. The wind was pulling at my hair. I watched him cradle Mandy with the kind of careful attention he had never once reserved for a moment when I was the one who needed it. The whole scene felt unreal. “I didn’t push her.” I kept my voice level. I wasn’t defending myself. I was simply stating a fact. “With this many witnesses, you’re still going to deny it?” He got to his feet and came toward me, each step deliberate. “I thought you were just being difficult. I never imagined you were actually capable of something like this. Mandy can’t swim. You could have killed her.” The voices of the people around us crested and broke. Every word was another piece of the verdict. I looked at the man who claimed to love me and felt like I was looking at a stranger. He didn’t check the camera footage. He didn’t ask what happened. He didn’t give me a single moment to explain. He had already decided. “If you’re so sure I did it, then call the police.” I didn’t look away from him. That caught him off guard. Mandy reached out from where she lay and caught the hem of his pants. “Don’t, Gordon. Please. The last thing you need is your name in the papers over something like this. I’m fine. If it makes Tara feel better, I don’t mind. I can take it.” Those words did exactly what they were designed to do. The way he looked at Mandy then, it was all tenderness. The way he looked back at me, nothing but contempt. “Starting today, you stay home.” His voice was flat and final. “You don’t go anywhere until you’re ready to admit what you did.” I was taken back to the house by his security detail. My phone was confiscated. The internet was cut. The front door was locked from the outside. I had been placed under house arrest. For the next two weeks, Gordon didn’t come back once. I sat by the floor-to-ceiling window each day and watched the light change. I felt strangely calm. When hope has been ground down to nothing, what’s left is a kind of stillness. Then, two weeks later, the front door opened. Gordon walked in. Mandy was with him. Color had returned to her face. She was even more beautiful than before. She came in on Gordon’s arm, scanning the rooms with the ease of someone deciding what renovations to make. “I don’t really like the way this place is decorated,” Mandy said, her voice soft with complaint. “It’s not really my style.” Gordon flicked her nose affectionately. “I’ll have someone redo it however you like tomorrow.” I sat on the sofa and watched the two of them without expression. Gordon crossed the room and stood over me. “Have you had time to think about what you did?” I looked up. “What exactly did I do?” “Apologize to Mandy.” There was no flexibility in his tone. “Do that, and I’ll forgive you. We can go back to how things were.” I almost laughed. The tears nearly came with it. He had locked me in this house for two weeks. He had walked in with another woman as though this were already her home. And now he was standing there, offering to forgive me. “Gordon,” I said, “do you actually believe I can’t survive without you?” He frowned. “Can you stop acting like a child? Mandy still isn’t fully recovered. Her doctor said she needs rest. She’ll be staying here for a while, and you’ll be looking after her. Think of it as making things right.”

Tara’s POV He wanted his wife to wait on his mistress. He said it like it was the most reasonable thing in the world. I stood up slowly. “Okay.” My voice was quiet. Gordon exhaled. He probably took it as surrender. For the next few days, I played the part. I cooked three meals a day on schedule. I kept the house running without complaint. Mandy found every opportunity to make it harder. “This soup is over-seasoned. Did you do that on purpose?” “These shirts aren’t properly ironed. Can you not manage even the simplest things?” Every time Mandy found fault, Gordon turned it back on me without hesitation. I didn’t argue. I just redid whatever needed redoing and said nothing. Because I was almost out of time. The progress on my identity erasure had reached ninety-nine percent. Three days left. That night, a heavy rain moved in over the city. Mandy was watching television in the living room when she suddenly clutched her chest and cried out. “Gordon, I can’t breathe. It hurts.” Gordon came running out of the study, face drained of color. He scooped her up. “Hang on. I’m taking you to the hospital right now.” He moved fast toward the door. As he passed me, he threw back one cold sentence. “If anything happens to her, you’ll answer for it.” The door slammed. The house went silent. I stood there and listened to the rain, and let the corner of my mouth curl. Gordon didn’t come home the next day. Or the day after. Then Oliver called. “Tara, get to St. John’s Hospital. Gordon ran a red light picking up Mandy’s prescription. He’s in emergency now.” I held the phone and said nothing for a long moment. “He’s not going to die.” My voice was the same tone I would use to comment on the weather. Oliver went silent. Then he came back sharp with anger. “Are you serious right now? He has always been there for you. He is in the ER and that’s what you have to say?” “Really?” I let out a quiet sound. “Whose name is in that spouse field again?” The line went dead. I hung up. I walked to the bedroom and pulled out a small overnight bag from the closet. Inside were a few changes of clothes, my passport, and my visa. Everything Gordon had ever given me, the jewelry, the designer bags, the couture, I left it all where it sat. I went to the vanity and pulled open the top drawer. Inside was the marriage certificate I had kept for three years, folded carefully, as if it had ever meant anything. I found a pair of scissors and cut it in half. One half I left on the vanity. The other half went into the trash. I took out my phone, opened the browser, and went to the identity erasure portal. I pressed the button. Confirmed. Your identity has been successfully deleted. When those words appeared on the screen, I breathed out, slowly and completely, for the first time in what felt like years. From this moment on, Tara no longer existed anywhere in this world. I picked up my bag, walked to the front door, and stopped. The rain had stopped while I wasn’t paying attention. The air outside carried the smell of wet earth and something clean. I looked back one last time at the place that had held me captive for five years. I felt nothing. I pushed the door open and walked out.

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Ethan forgot our wedding anniversary for the fifth time. At two in the morning, he pushed open the door. He reeked of alcohol and someone else’s perfume, his voice buzzing with excitement. “Sophia’s getting divorced! This is my chance!” I stood there, the wound on my left shoulder still throbbing quietly where the sixteen stitches held it together. I had taken that knife for him three days ago. He still didn’t know. “Ethan,” I said softly, “let’s get divorced.” He paused, then laughed. “Sure! Even after the divorce, you’ll still be my best friend. Oh, and come help me pick out an engagement ring tomorrow. Your fingers are about the same size as hers. Try it on for me.” I stared at that completely unbothered face of his and suddenly felt that these twenty-two years of loving him in silence had been nothing but a joke I had played on myself. I slipped the plain silver band off my finger and set it on the table. That ring had cost me next to nothing. I had worn it for five years. Now, at last, it didn’t have to lie for anyone anymore.

Jamie’s POV Two in the morning. Ethan pushed open the door. I was sitting beside the floor lamp in the living room, a book open on my lap, no pages turned. Today was the fifth anniversary of my marriage to Ethan Foster. It was also the fifth year he had completely forgotten. Ethan smelled of alcohol. When his beautiful eyes landed on me, they curved into a smile. “Jamie! I knew you’d still be up.” He walked over, looped his long arm around my neck, and half-collapsed against me, bringing with him a cloud of sweet, unmistakably feminine perfume. “Come on, make me some honey water. My head’s killing me.” My heart ached so badly I could barely breathe, but I just pushed him off with a tired look. “Ethan, you’re almost thirty, not three. Would it kill you to drink less?” “I was celebrating.” Ethan threw himself onto the couch, his long legs propped up on the coffee table without a care in the world, his grin bright enough to hurt. “Jamie, she’s back.” My hand stilled on the glass I was pouring. I didn’t need to ask who she was. There was only one person who could make Ethan Foster look that stupidly, helplessly happy. Sophia Whitfield. “Congratulations.” I kept my back to him, my voice frighteningly calm. Ethan took a few gulps of the honey water and grabbed my wrist, buzzing with excitement. “She’s divorced. Her ex treated her badly. She’s been through so much. Jamie, this is my chance!” I looked at this man I had loved for twenty-two years straight. From the time I was five until now, at twenty-seven, I had grown up alongside Ethan. I had stood by him through fights, skipped class with him, and watched him chase after Sophia. And when he blew up his relationship with his entire family over her and hit rock bottom, I had stayed. Right there beside him. His family, desperate to make him move on, started looking for a suitable match for him within their circle. Ethan decided it didn’t matter who he married. He even told his father: “As long as it’s not Sophia, it’s all the same to me.” I was the one who stepped forward. I said, “If it’s all the same to you, then marry me, Ethan. A fake marriage. When you’re free of your family, or when she comes back, I’ll give you a divorce whenever you want.” Back then, Ethan had held me and sobbed. “Jamie, you’re the best person in my whole life. I promise you, you’ll always have a place in this family. Nobody will ever make you feel like you don’t belong.” He kept that promise. For five years, he gave me every privilege and protection. He trusted me more than anyone. The safe combination, the company’s most sensitive secrets, even his personal seal. He held nothing back. He was good to me, except for one thing. He didn’t love me. “Since she’s back, let’s get divorced.” Ethan blinked. “Already?” “She’s back. It’s time for me to step aside.” I stood up, my downcast lashes hiding everything behind my eyes. “I’ll contact a lawyer and have the divorce papers drawn up as soon as possible. I’ll pack my things and be out of here quickly.” Ethan studied my unnervingly calm expression and hesitated. “Jamie, I’m not going to shortchange you on the settlement. The penthouse in Manhattan, plus one percent of Foster Group’s shares.” One percent of Foster Group. Worth hundreds of millions. He was, as always, generous. “And don’t move too far after the divorce. The house in Beverly Hills is yours too. It’s close by. We’ll still be best friends. Whatever you need, just say the word. I promised I’d look out for you for the rest of your life.” I looked down at the plain silver band on my ring finger. We’d bought it at a roadside jewelry stand on the day we filed the paperwork. Ethan had tossed it to me casually and said, “If we’re going to put on a show, we need the right props. Just wear it.” That cheap silver ring, I had worn it for five years without ever taking it off. I had worn it so long it left a faint mark on my finger. Best friends? What I felt for him had never been friendship. I slowly slid the ring off and set it on the table. It made a small, quiet sound. “You don’t have to do that.” My voice came out a little rough. “Ethan, I just want you to be happy.” “What’s with the formality?” Ethan frowned. “You’ll need money when you get married someday…” He suddenly laughed, like he’d just thought of something funny. “Actually, I almost forget sometimes that you’re a woman. God help whoever falls for you.” Something rose in my throat, sharp and metallic. I forced it back down. “Ethan.” I called his full name, my eyes stinging just slightly. “Yeah?” He was already looking down at his phone, texting Sophia, a smile playing at the corner of his mouth, not even glancing up. “…I’m tired. I’m going to bed.” The words I have loved you for twenty-two years rotted silently in my chest. “Wait, Jamie.” I stopped. And somewhere deep and humiliating, a tiny flicker of hope lit up. Had he remembered? That today was our anniversary? That I had spent five years never leaving his side? “There’s a charity gala tomorrow night. Come with me.”

Jamie’s POV “I’m not going.” If we were getting divorced, I had no business showing up at public events anymore. I wasn’t going to lay the groundwork for Sophia. I wasn’t going to become the laughingstock of the whole city. “You have to.” Ethan dropped the warmth from his voice, his expression matter-of-fact. “Sophia just got back. Her situation is delicate. If you’re there, nobody will dare say anything.” “You need to show up as my wife and make it clear she’s welcome. That way, when we get together, there’ll be less pushback.” He wanted me to appear as his wife. To publicly embrace his first love. To personally pave the road for their true romance. How could a person be this cruel without even knowing it? And yet Ethan looked completely at ease, as if his request was perfectly reasonable. “Does it really have to be this way?” I looked up at him. My eyes were threaded with red. Ethan paused. He seemed caught off guard by how worn out I looked, though he chalked it up to work stress. He softened his tone and slipped into the easy, coaxing voice he always used when he wanted something. “Jamie, please. Just this once, the last time. You know Sophia. She’s sensitive. The smallest thing can hurt her.” “Do this one last thing for me. Okay?” Okay? For twenty-two years, every time he asked me something that way, I had never once said no. I closed my eyes. Swallowed the bitterness. “Fine. The last time.” Ethan exhaled like a weight had lifted. “Thanks, Jamie. Having you in my life is the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” He hummed cheerfully to himself as he headed upstairs. I stood in the middle of the living room, staring at the abandoned ring on the table. It seemed to stare back, coldly mocking five years of everything I had felt. That night, I dreamed. There was no Sophia in the dream. Just sophomore year of college. Ethan had twisted his ankle during a basketball game, and I had carried him on my back for nearly two miles in the midday heat to get to the campus health center. Sweat ran down my neck and soaked into my collar. Ethan lay sprawled across my back, talking the whole way. In the dream, he asked: “Jamie, am I too heavy?” Dream-me said nothing. Just clenched my jaw and kept walking, one step at a time. The charity gala was spectacular. I wore a black velvet blazer. When I walked in on Ethan’s arm, flashbulbs erupted around us. “Mr. and Mrs. Foster are such a perfect couple, still so devoted after all these years.” “Absolutely. Jamie has been the backbone of Foster Group. So much of what the company has achieved is because of her.” Compliments closed in from all sides. Ethan smiled his polished public smile and leaned down to murmur in my ear. “See? Everyone says we’re perfect together. I keep telling you, I can’t do any of this without you.” I said nothing. My gaze drifted through the crowd and settled on a figure tucked into the far corner of the ballroom. Sophia Whitfield stood in a white chiffon gown, her hair loose over her shoulders, like a small, trembling flower. The moment Ethan’s eyes found her, nothing else existed. He steered me toward her without hesitation. “Ethan…” Sophia looked up at him, and her eyes immediately filled with tears. “Don’t cry. I’m here.” He reached for her, and I blocked him, smoothly, almost invisibly. “Ethan. Not here.” My voice was quiet and precise. He stiffened slightly, then recovered. “Sophia, you remember Jamie. You used to be terrified of her when we were kids.” Sophia shrank a little behind him. “Hi, Jamie. Thank you for taking care of Ethan all these years.” “No need to thank me. It was mutually beneficial.” My tone was flat. A cluster of men drifted over with their drinks, led by a man named Derek. His gaze slid over Sophia with barely concealed interest before landing on me with a smirk. “Jamie! Love the suit. Didn’t know Ethan brought a bodyguard tonight.” Laughter rippled through the group. Ethan’s jaw tightened for a fraction of a second, then he punched Derek in the arm with a grin. “Knock it off. Don’t give her a hard time. Jamie’s got more presence in her little finger than any of you clowns.” It was the kind of defense that sounded more like a joke between friends. It dressed me in armor and, in the same breath, stripped away everything soft about me. Derek dropped his voice, leering at Ethan. “Come on, man, it’s gotta be rough, right? A woman should be soft, like Sophia. Something you can actually hold. Jamie’s all sharp edges. You afraid she’ll poke you?” The words were designed to humiliate. I tightened my grip on my glass and watched Ethan. Waiting. I was his wife. Whatever our marriage was in private, in public he was supposed to protect my dignity. That was the bare minimum. Ethan glanced at me. My face was unreadable, my posture straight. Maybe he was too used to me being “strong.” Maybe he was worried about what Sophia might read into it. Whatever the reason, he just smiled lightly and said: “Alright, enough. Jamie and I aren’t like that. Don’t talk about her that way.” My heart sank all the way to the floor. Then the doors of the ballroom burst open, and a group of masked men stormed in wielding bats and blades.

Jamie’s POV Guests screamed and scattered. Glasses shattered. Tables crashed over. “Where’s Ethan Foster?! Tell him to get out here!” The leader swept the room with wild, violent eyes. These were hired men, brought in by a bankrupt rival of the Foster family to settle the score. Chaos swallowed the room whole. “Ethan!” Sophia crumpled to the floor, shaking. Ethan’s expression shifted. On instinct, he scooped Sophia into his arms and lunged toward the emergency exit. “Jamie! Come on!” He looked back and shouted. And that’s when I saw it. One of the men raised a blade and swung it straight at Ethan’s back. He was holding Sophia. He couldn’t dodge. I didn’t think. Twenty-two years of instinct kicked in. I kicked off my heels, grabbed a solid wooden chair, and in the split second before the blade landed, I swung it as hard as I could into the attacker’s wrist. The crack was loud. The blade bit into a marble column instead. “You want to die?!” The man’s eyes went red. He turned on me. “Go, Ethan, RUN!” I shouted and smashed a wine bottle across another attacker’s head. Ethan looked back. Behind him, I stood like I was holding the line, feet planted, eyes clear. Sophia sobbed into his chest. “Ethan, please, I’m scared. Let’s just go.” “Jamie, hold on! I’ll get her out and come straight back!” He yelled it. Then he turned and ran, Sophia in his arms, and disappeared into the emergency exit without looking back. He left me with the danger. Again. He had always believed, completely and without question, that I was invincible. I watched his retreating back, and a hollow smile crossed my lips. One moment of distraction, and a knife punched deep into my left shoulder from the side. Thud. White-hot pain flooded my body. I grunted, grabbed the attacker’s arm by reflex, and threw him over my shoulder onto the floor. Security finally surged in, swarming the room to get things under control. I pressed my hand to my shoulder. Blood soaked steadily through the black velvet. The dark fabric hid it well. Just a warm, wet patch. I leaned against the wall, my face the color of paper, cold sweat breaking across my forehead. Everyone around me was too busy surviving to notice. Ten minutes later, Ethan came crashing back in with a team of security guards. “Jamie! Jamie!” I forced myself upright. I steadied myself. I didn’t want him to see me like this. I didn’t want him to think I was using an injury to make him feel guilty. That was my last shred of pride. Pathetic as it was. “I’m here.” My voice was thin, but steady. Ethan rushed over. I was standing straight, face pale but otherwise apparently intact. He let out a long breath and punched me in the right shoulder. “God, you scared me! Jamie, that was insane. You were incredible!” The impact jolted through to my left side. The wound tore. I bit down on my lip until it bled, and made no sound. “Is Sophia okay?” I asked. “She’s shaken up pretty bad. She’s crying in the car. She scraped her hand, so I need to get her to the ER.” Ethan was already moving toward the door as he spoke. “You’re good to handle things here, right? Talk to the police when they arrive and deal with the press. We can’t let this tank the stock price. I have to take Sophia. She needs me.” Then he was gone. I stood there, looking at the blood on the floor. My blood. Though Ethan would probably assume it belonged to one of the attackers, if he noticed it at all. A scraped hand. Needs the ER. I looked down at my own soaked side. And for the first time, I felt it, not pain, but the pure, flat absurdity of twenty-two years of this. “Mrs. Foster, you’re bleeding!” A sharp-eyed staff member finally spotted the dark stain spreading across my back. I waved them off and refused a hand. “It’s fine,” I said quietly, staring at nothing. “It doesn’t hurt.”

Jamie’s POV Late at night at a private hospital. When the doctor cut open my clothes, she went quiet. The knife had gone in deep, close enough to the nerve that it had nearly done permanent damage. Worse, because I had waited so long, the wound had bonded with the fabric fibers. Cleaning it out was going to be brutal. “Ms. Shaw, I need to give you a local anesthetic before I suture this.” “Don’t.” I stared up at the surgical light. My voice was weak but absolute. “Just stitch it.” “But…” “I need to feel it.” I needed this pain, clean, physical, undeniable, to finally cut me loose from twenty-two years of something that had always been a dream. The pull of needle and thread through skin was precise and awful. I gripped the edge of the table until my knuckles went white. I bit through my lip. I didn’t shed a single tear. I thought about being five years old, pushed into a cold swimming pool, flailing in the water, certain I was going to die. And him, arriving like the whole sky had opened up, pulling me back from the edge. I thought about being fifteen, kneeling on the hard ground outside because I hadn’t done my stepsister’s homework. My stepmother’s punishment: no dinner, no coming inside. And him, climbing over the wall with a paper bag, pressing a warm macaron into my hands, his voice fierce: “Anyone who touches you, you tell me. I’ll make them sorry.” Those moments of warmth had been the only light in a very bare life. But they had also built the cage. Woven it wire by wire, year by year, until I had walked in willingly and called it love. Now it was time to walk out. The doctor wanted to keep me for observation. I declined, took a car home to the house that technically still had my name attached to it, and let myself in. Every light was on. Ethan was on the couch on a phone call, his voice liquid-soft: “Okay. Don’t be scared, I’ll come over soon. Don’t get the bandage wet, and make sure you use the ointment the doctor gave you… you’re not bothering me. Stop saying that. When have I ever found you annoying?” He looked up when he heard the door. “You’re back.” Casual. His eyes swept over me once. I’d put on a dark coat before leaving the hospital. It covered everything. He noticed nothing. “Yeah.” I slipped off my shoes. Every small movement sent fire shooting across my back. “How’d it go? Did you get the press handled?” He stood up and moved toward me, reaching out to clap me on the shoulder out of habit. I stepped back without thinking. His hand hung in the air. His brow furrowed. “What’s wrong? Are you mad? Are you seriously upset that I left with Sophia?” He looked genuinely baffled. “Jamie, you’re not usually like this. The situation was critical. Sophia has never been through anything like that. She nearly had a panic attack. You’ve handled things like this before. I trusted you to manage it, that’s why I left it with you.” Trust, again. I looked up at him. My eyes were perfectly still, like a lake with no wind. “Ethan. If that blade had hit my head tonight, I would be dead.” He stared at me. Then laughed a little. “Don’t be dramatic. You’re fine, aren’t you? And honestly, the way you took that guy’s wrist out with a chair? You’re not dying anytime soon. You’re too tough for that.” He was still smiling. “Hell would send you back.” Still laughing. Still treating the whole night like a minor plot point. Still utterly certain that I was built to absorb whatever the world threw at me. I looked at his handsome, familiar, completely foreign face and felt a tiredness so deep I had no words for it. I was done explaining. Done justifying. Some people, you can’t wake them up. They have to stay asleep. Maybe it was guilt about earlier. Ethan reached into his jacket pocket and tossed me a velvet box. “Here. Picked this up at an auction a while back. I thought the necklace was nice. You never really wear jewelry. Think of it as hazard pay for tonight.” I opened it slowly. An emerald necklace. Antique design, clearly expensive. But the style was heavy, ornate, old-fashioned. The exact kind of thing my stepmother always wore. “What do you think? I’m good to you, right?” Ethan looked pleased with himself. “My mom used to wear something similar, very elegant. You always dress so plainly. This might help.” I looked at the necklace. He had never once known what I actually liked. “Thank you.” I closed the box. “Oh, and…” Ethan shifted gears, and something new crossed his face, a rare, slightly shy smile I had almost never seen on him. “Are you free tomorrow? I want you to come somewhere with me.” My fingers tightened on the edge of the velvet box. “Where?” “To pick out a ring.” His smile deepened. “I want to propose to Sophia. Properly. I owe her that and more after five years. And you have the best taste. You know what she’d love. She’s going to say yes.” Even though I had known this was coming, even though I had prepared myself for every version of this moment, I still heard it. The sound of something cracking. Like ice splitting, one sharp, clean sound, and then the whole world breaking apart.

Jamie’s POV I know what she’d love? No. I knew what Sophia would love because I had spent years quietly finding out, digging through her friends for information so I could hand Ethan the perfect gift every single time. I had pushed him into another woman’s arms and then handed him a map to her heart. “Okay.” The next afternoon. The most prestigious custom jewelry boutique in Manhattan. The consultant spread tray after velvet tray across the counter. Diamonds caught the light from every angle. Ethan studied each one with the focus he rarely applied to anything else. More serious than when he reviewed a billion-dollar contract. “Too small. Not for her.” “Too fussy. Sophia likes clean lines.” “This one…” He picked up a pink diamond ring and turned to me. “Jamie. Give me your hand.” I instinctively pulled my hand back. “For what?” “To try it on.” He said it like it was obvious. “Your fingers are about the same size as hers. Your hands are rougher, she takes better care of hers, but the bone structure is the same. Come on.” I looked at him. The boy who had taken up every corner of my youth. Standing here now, holding a ring he had chosen for someone else, asking to use my hand as a stand-in. And noting, while he was at it, that my hands weren’t as soft as hers. Of course they weren’t. Sophia’s hands were made for piano keys and oil paintings. Mine were made for sorting his files, managing his crises, and once, to make a project deadline, hauling equipment on a construction site. “Ethan.” My voice wavered. “Come on, hurry up.” He was already impatient, completely unaware. “What are you waiting for?” I held out my left hand. He slid the pink diamond onto my ring finger. A perfect fit. The stone caught the light against my pale skin. The whole thing felt like a punchline I’d been building toward for twenty-two years. “Beautiful!” Ethan’s face lit up. “Yeah, you really do have to see a ring on a hand to know. Your hands aren’t exactly model material, but the diamond’s flashy enough to carry it. It’s going to look even better on Sophia.” He handed the ring to the consultant, satisfied, and asked her to box it up. I looked at my bare finger. Then at Ethan, beaming as he took the small white box, completely at peace with the world. I smiled. Faint. Sad. “Ethan.” I said it to his back, quiet as a sigh. “The divorce papers are signed. I left them on your desk.” He stopped. Turned. And smiled, the wide, easy smile of a man whose life is suddenly coming together. “Jamie, seriously, thank you. Dinner tonight, on me. We can celebrate finally being single again!” I didn’t respond. I was thinking about the winter of junior year in high school. Sophia had been obsessed with a burger place near campus, but the lines were always impossible. So Ethan dragged me out of class to go stand in it for her. It was freezing, the wind cutting right through everything. My hands were so cold they cracked and blistered. Ethan pulled off his scarf, and for one second I thought he was going to wrap it around me. Instead, he bundled it around the bag of burgers, tucked the whole thing against his chest. “This way they’ll still be warm when Sophia gets them.” I came down with a fever that afternoon. Ethan patted me on the back. “Your immune system is terrible. You need to toughen up.” The memory wrapped around my chest like a thorned vine and squeezed.

Jamie’s POV When Ethan got home that evening, I was in the middle of packing. Two large suitcases lay open in the center of the living room. The things that were mine were quietly disappearing. Half the bookshelf was empty. The flat shoes I always wore by the door were gone. Even the pair of matching toothbrush cups on the bathroom counter had been reduced to one. Ethan stood in the doorway and stared. “Already?” He nudged one of the suitcases with his foot. “You don’t have to rush. You can stay. I’m not asking you to leave.” “It’s better this way.” I didn’t look up, my hands still moving. “We can’t keep living together once the divorce is final. Sophia would mind.” Ethan loosened his tie with a mildly irritated tug. “I’ve already explained everything to Sophia. Our marriage was never real. And you’re my best friend. Divorce doesn’t change that. What’s wrong with taking the guest room?” Family. What a word. I finally set down what I was holding and looked at him. The chandelier above us was bright. It lit up every line of his face, every trace of his easy, unbothered certainty. “Ethan. Men and women can’t just be friends.” I said it calmly, like a fact he had always chosen not to hear. “Especially not when one of them is about to get married. I don’t want to be someone people whisper about. And I don’t want to make things harder for you.” He blinked. Then almost laughed, like I’d said something absurd. “Who’s going to say anything about you? You’re VP of Foster Group.” Then his voice shifted. “And where would you even go? Back to your dad’s? You think your stepmother and your sister are going to roll out the welcome mat?” “I’m not going back there.” My lashes flickered. I raised my eyes and looked directly at him. “I’m going to stay with my fiancé.” The room went silent. The smile on Ethan’s face didn’t just fade. It froze, then cracked. “What did you just say?” “I said I’m going to stay with my fiancé.” I held his gaze and told the lie as steadily as I had ever told the truth. “He’s someone I knew in college. He’s been waiting for me. I kept putting things off because of you. Now that you have what you want, it’s time I went and lived my own life.” Ethan couldn’t move. “You can’t have a fiancé.” I wasn’t surprised. Of course he thought that. I had spent every hour orbiting him. My entire world had been his world. “You’re making it up,” he said, voice going strange. “Jamie, don’t joke about something like this. Who is he? What does he do? Does he treat you right? Is he after your money?” The questions came fast, almost frantic. I watched him unravel and felt nothing. No flutter. No ache. Just a quiet, exhausted stillness. “He treats me well. The same way you treat Sophia.” I kept my voice even. “He remembers when my cycle is and makes me warm milk. He knows my stomach is bad and won’t let me drink cold water. He turned down an arranged match his family set up for me.” “Ethan. You’re not the only person in the world who knows how to love someone.” I let that sit for a moment. “And Sophia isn’t the only person in the world worth loving.” He opened his mouth. Closed it. “Is that so?” He laughed, but it came out unsteady. “That’s great, then. Why didn’t you ever tell me? You could have said something. I’m your friend. I can’t believe you kept this from me.” “Because you never asked.” I picked up my bag. “I have to go. Ethan, I hope you and Sophia are happy. I really do.” I didn’t look at him again. I pulled my suitcase toward the front door. The wheels hummed against the marble floor, and the sound filled the empty house. “Wait!” The moment my hand touched the cold door handle, Ethan crossed the room in a few strides and slammed his palm flat against the door, trapping himself between me and the exit. His eyes were wide and unsteady. Like a child about to lose something he had never thought to value until right now. “Tonight, just have dinner with me tonight. You’re leaving. It’s the least we can do. Invite them, invite your friend, and I’ll check them out for you too.” I knew he was just making excuses. I looked down at the hand he had pressed against the door. Long fingers, clean knuckles. Beautiful, even now. “That’s not necessary.” I gently moved his hand aside. “He doesn’t like me staying close with my ex-husband.” Ex-husband. That word drew the line. It cut off every way back. I opened the door and walked out. Outside, the night was deep and dark. There was no fiancé. No college friend. The only person I had ever cared about, my whole life, was the one inside that house behind me. And now, I was letting him go. “Ethan,” I whispered to myself, “this time, I really mean it. I’m done.”

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The day of my engagement, my sister Tiffany got into a car accident and lost her memory, mistaking my fiancé Liam for her boyfriend. Everyone immediately ordered me to give Liam to her. Seeing my diamond ring, she sniffled, forcing a smile, “If you like it so much, I’ll just give it to you.” My brother, Ethan, snatched my wedding ring from my hand and threw it down the drain to vent his anger for her. When she found out I moved into our wedding home, she cried, tears streaming down her face, “Why do you have to steal my wedding home too? We’re family!” Mom and Dad both urged me to be generous and kind, then ganged up and kicked me out of the house. Later, she suffered from depression and climbed onto the rooftop late at night, weeping that no one loved her. Liam rushed to her side, gently wiping away her tears. “Silly girl, you’re the one I’ve always loved.” He personally placed a veil on her, and they shared a sweet kiss under the moonlight. No one paid attention to me, pushed off the building by her, lying there mangled, dying in agony. When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the day my sister Tiffany got into the car accident and lost her memory.  

“Seducing Liam, doing something so utterly despicable and shameless—how do you even have the nerve to live?” The moment I opened my eyes, I saw Tiffany lunging at me in fury, a pair of sharp scissors in her hand, aimed straight for my face. Instinctively, I pushed her away. Tiffany stumbled, the scissors flying from her grip, and she lost her balance, collapsing onto the floor. “I’m your own sister, why would you do this to me…” She clutched her face, sobbing uncontrollably. Mom and Dad rushed out of the hospital room, embracing her tenderly and comforting her without end. People came and went in the hospital, casting countless strange glances our way. “She looks so innocent, but she’s actually a homewrecker.” “They’re sisters? How utterly shameless.” I stared fixedly at the delicate woman before me, pinching my palm hard. The pain brought me back to reality. I had truly been reborn. Back to the day Tiffany lost her memory in the car accident! In my previous life, that day was supposed to be my wonderful engagement day with Liam. Tiffany, who was studying abroad, had rushed back to celebrate with me but got into a car accident on the way. When she woke up, she unexpectedly lost her memory, mistaking Liam for her boyfriend of many years. Upon hearing about my engagement to Liam, she completely broke down. “I’m the one who loves him!” “Stella, you’re my own sister, why would you betray me?” From that day on, Tiffany treated me like an enemy. She’d throw tantrums anytime, anywhere, constant insults were normal, and slaps and objects being thrown never stopped. The worst time, she threw a pot of boiling water on me, leaving large scars. My life became unbearable. But everyone around me said I bore an inescapable responsibility. “If she hadn’t rushed back to celebrate with you, Tiffany wouldn’t have lost her memory. You owe her big time!” “She’s sick now, she has amnesia. How can you even think about arguing with her?” From that day on, I was forced to tolerate and endure all of Tiffany’s malice. And she, in turn, gained everyone’s favoritism. Seeing the engagement ring on my finger, she would sniffle, forcing a smile, “If you like it, I’ll just give it to you.” Behind my back, she’d cry herself into dehydration and end up in the ER. My brother, Ethan, who had always looked up to me, snatched my wedding ring and flushed it down the toilet, to vent his anger for her. When she found out I moved into our wedding home, she cried, tears streaming down her face, “Why do you always steal my things? We’re family!” Mom and Dad were heartbroken, turning to scold me for not being generous and kind, then kicking me out of the house. No matter how absurd or unreasonable Tiffany’s demands were, I had to fulfill them. Even a hint of dissatisfaction, and she would have a fit, threaten to cut her wrists. And I gradually became the killer in everyone’s eyes, the one who drove her to her death. “Tiffany has amnesia, she’s not deliberately bothering you. Can’t you be more understanding of a sick person?” “It’s just a small favor, what’s the big deal? She’s your sister!” But who would be understanding of me? So, because Tiffany lost her memory, I was supposed to sacrifice my entire life? In that moment, I felt utter darkness. It was as if I was trapped in a deserted alley, with no end in sight. In the end, even the fiancé I had loved for years was handed over. “Because of you, Tiffany was so seriously hurt. Can’t you just bear with it?” When I couldn’t help but complain, Liam looked at me with cold, reproachful eyes: “You have no pity for your own family, Stella, do you even have a heart?!” I’ll never forget that night. Tiffany, suffering a depressive episode, climbed onto the rooftop in the middle of the night, weeping that no one loved her. Upon hearing the news, I rushed up immediately, wanting to save her. But she violently shoved me, and I fell, mangled and bloody. Liam rushed to the scene. He clearly saw me, lying there in agony on the ground, yet he still ran straight upstairs and held Tiffany in his arms, gently wiping away her tears: “Silly girl, you’re the one I’ve always loved.” Under the romantic moonlight, he personally placed a veil on her, and they kissed sweetly. No one cared about me, cruelly pushed off the building. My throat gushed with blood and fragments of internal organs, but it couldn’t compare to the searing pain in my heart. Liam clearly saw me… Why didn’t he save me? I longed and begged to live. I was still alive! But all I got was a body growing cold, slowly bleeding out and suffocating, a tragic end of despair. Floating in mid-air, I saw the triumphant smile on Tiffany’s lips. She hadn’t lost her memory at all! The so-called car accident was nothing more than a staged act! Only because she also liked Liam, driven by jealousy, she deliberately plotted to ruin the engagement party. Turning my life into a nightmare! Why me?! Carrying that resentment and hatred. When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the day Tiffany got into the car accident.  

Right now. Tiffany was still crying dramatically. “I just don’t understand, Stella, you’re my sister!” She choked, clutching her chest, her face even paler. “What did I ever do to you, that you would shamelessly steal my engagement ring…” Before she could finish, my brother Ethan anxiously jumped in to accuse me: “Stella, can’t you be more understanding? Tiffany is already suffering so much from the car accident and memory loss, and you’re deliberately provoking her! Are you even human?!” He roughly grabbed my hand, pulled off my ring, and flung it into the toilet. “It’s just a stupid ring… Ha, let’s see you show it off now!” Yet, just before, at the engagement party, he had earnestly promised me: “Sis, if anyone ever bullies you, I’ll beat them to a pulp!” In front of me, Mom and Dad also wore cold expressions. “Tiffany is sick now. As family, we need to give her plenty of love.” “Stella, you need to be deferential to your sister. If you dare to provoke Tiffany again, get out of our house. It’s our bad luck to have raised such a cold-hearted ingrate!” They only cared about Tiffany. No one remembered that today was supposed to be my engagement day. There were no blessings, only utter chaos. I had expected this. In my previous life, when they saw my horrific injuries, Mom and Dad were heartbroken. But under Tiffany’s tearful onslaught, they quickly changed their tune, claiming I had accidentally fallen from a height, just to exonerate Tiffany. Later, at my grave, they smiled with relief, telling me not to blame them, and to reincarnate soon. “Life, after all, must move forward.” But their bright and beautiful future was built upon my death! Even though I had experienced it all before. Those cold, impatient stares still pierced my heart, making it seize up. Looking at the loving family before me. I nodded expressionlessly. “I don’t care. Do what you want.”  

Before they went home. I packed a few simple toiletries and moved out. The next day, after calming myself, I went to work. First thing in the morning, my colleagues were all congratulating me on my engagement. “Make sure you invite us to the wedding!” “Stella, you and Liam are a perfect match. Your children are going to be beautiful!” Suddenly hearing Liam’s name, I trembled. It was as if I was back in that frigid moonlit night. My bones shattered, I lay on the ground like a dead dog, struggling with all my might but to no avail, only able to agonizingly feel life slowly drain away… I never wanted to experience that desperate taste again! Exhaling sharply, I was about to clarify my relationship with Liam. But then, Tiffany darted out from the crowd, grabbed a computer from a nearby desk, and savagely hurled it at me. “Stella, you’ll stop at nothing to seduce Liam for your career! He’s your sister’s man!” “Do you really have to completely ruin my life before you’re satisfied?!” Her shout created a huge stir. My colleagues around me started whispering. “Oh my god, what a bombshell!” “I knew it! Stella, a woman, becoming manager so soon after graduation? She must have slept her way to the top. Tsk, tsk…” “And they’re sisters? Becoming a mistress to steal her sister’s fiancé, how absolutely shameless, ugh!” Shock, disdain, contempt… Strange looks pierced me like needles. I watched Tiffany’s outburst calmly: “Are you done making a scene?” “Stella, you’ve always targeted me, jealous that I’m more successful and happy than you.” Tiffany gave a tragic smile, her face stained with tears. “Before, I always tolerated you because you were younger, but you’re really driving me crazy!” “I… I’m pregnant. My baby needs a father, and he’ll call you Auntie!” “Stella, please give Liam back to me, okay?” Undeniably, Tiffany was a master actress. She cautiously cradled her belly, tears falling like a broken string of pearls, evoking sympathy from everyone. Not to mention, the other protagonist soon appeared. When Liam showed up, he froze. He first guiltily avoided my gaze, then unhesitatingly rushed to Tiffany, his face filled with tenderness. This “sincere display” further solidified my “disgrace.” The murmurs around us grew louder. Ignoring them, I calmly dialed the police. And also contacted a mental hospital. Tiffany loved to use her “fits” to torment and humiliate me. So, I’d send her back to where she belonged!  

By the time Mom and Dad rushed over. Tiffany was leaning by the window, threatening to jump. One foot hovered in mid-air, her eyes red: “I just want my happiness back, is that wrong?” “Why do I, who’s never done anything bad, have to suffer such cruelty?” “Liam, it seems we’re destined to be together in this life. Let’s meet again in the next!” Everyone was terrified by her deathly words. Liam was completely flustered; he stepped forward, trembling, to comfort her: “Tiffany, please come down, okay? We still have a connection. Can you bear to leave me like this?” Tiffany’s face was pale, tears continuously streaming down: “But Stella is my own sister, I really can’t bear to hurt her…” She closed her eyes and let go of the window frame. As she was about to fall, Liam lunged forward, fiercely pulling her into his arms. As if he was embracing the cherished treasure of his life. Seeing Tiffany successfully rescued, everyone let out a collective sigh of relief. Mom turned and slapped me hard: “Stella, are you gloating now? Driving your own sister to death, how could I have given birth to such a cold-blooded, heartless animal?!” Dad also gave me a cold glare: “Apologize to Tiffany immediately! Otherwise, you’ll regret it!” I touched the stinging pain on my face, responding calmly: “I didn’t do anything wrong, why should I apologize?” They knew perfectly well. It was Tiffany’s “amnesia” and “illness” that made her mistake him. Why should I accept this fabricated guilt? “Stella, are you done?!” Mom impatiently cut me off, her voice shrill and piercing: “Tiffany got this strange illness because of your car accident and amnesia. You must atone for her for the rest of your life!” “You nitpick over every little thing! How did I ever give birth to such a cold-hearted, ungrateful viper?!” “If I had known… I should have strangled you at birth to spare others from your evil!” Even Liam looked at me with hatred. They all united to protect Tiffany. But Tiffany’s attempt to jump, though dramatic, was staged. Below the window was a spacious patio, barely half a meter high. No one could die from such a fall. Yet, in my previous life, when I was pushed down from dozens of feet high and lay broken on the concrete, no one stood up for me. Their hearts were always and only for Tiffany. I had no chance before, but now I would seek justice for myself! When the police arrived. I turned and exposed Tiffany’s antics: “Tiffany slandered my reputation. Please give me justice.” The moment the words left my mouth. Liam’s face instantly changed, and he shot me a look of displeasure. Dad roared at me, his face grim: “Stella, are you crazy? Do you really want to send your own sister to prison?” Mom, with her sharp fingernails, lunged at me, not forgetting to curse: “Fine, heaven truly is blind to let me raise such a despicable, low-life animal!” “Stella, listen to me. If you cause Tiffany to be taken away by the police today, I’ll disown you as my daughter!” Facing those hateful, glaring eyes, I remained expressionless. In my previous life, when I slowly bled out and died in despair, my heart had already stopped feeling pain. The Stella who was a daughter of the family was already dead in that desolate moonlit night. I turned and handed the pre-prepared evidence to the police: “The one causing trouble is Tiffany, my biological sister. She has a mental illness, memory confusion.” Saying this, I handed over a copy of her medical records. Tiffany had been very thorough in her act, somehow procuring a seemingly authentic diagnostic report. In my previous life, she used this “get out of jail free card” to humiliate and torment me repeatedly. But now, it would be the very thing to nail her to the pillar of shame!

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