Author: Momo Chan

At the altar, the marriage officiant announced my sister, Lily, as the bride. Just as I was about to step forward and protest, my boyfriend stopped me. “The officiant made a mistake. Don’t make a scene. Just let Lily walk the aisle for you to get it over with.” My parents chimed in beside him. “You and Ethan are signing the papers at City Hall next week anyway. In the eyes of the law, you’ll be husband and wife. This ceremony is just a show. Let Lily have her moment today.” I swallowed my tears and stood aside, watching Lily wear the wedding dress I had carefully chosen, while Ethan slid the ring onto her finger. They shared a passionate kiss under the cheers of the crowd. Before the reception toast, someone asked Ethan in the hallway. “Aren’t you worried Chloe will get mad and break up with you over this?” He flicked his cigarette ash. “She is crazy in love with me. She’d never actually get mad. Besides…” “…I’m the only one who can cure her severe insomnia. She can’t survive without me.” I didn’t argue with him. What he didn’t know was that my insomnia had been cured long ago. I didn’t need him anymore. And what he knew even less was that I was the one who told the officiant to change the bride’s name to Lily. I was gambling. I wanted to see if, just this once, he would choose me. But I lost. He and my parents would always choose Lily over me. Always. So I turned around and replied to a text message. “I lost the bet. Let’s go to City Hall and get married next week.”

I was about to leave when Ethan called out to me. “Chloe, we are short-staffed right now. Why are you just standing there instead of helping the guests find their seats?” A moment later, my parents waved at me with champagne glasses in hand. “Chloe, come here and help us greet the guests!” Behind them, Ethan was gently holding up the train of Lily’s dress. Standing on the sidelines, my heart swelled with bitterness. “I don’t want to go.” Ethan’s face darkened. “Chloe, look at the time. Can you stop throwing a tantrum?” My mother shoved a glass into my hand. “Lily is your sister. If you don’t back her up, how are we supposed to save face?” I gripped the glass so hard my knuckles turned white, raising my voice. “This is my wedding!” The people around us turned to look, whispering. My parents quickly dragged me to a quiet corner. “Why are you being so difficult? A wedding is just a wedding. Does it really matter whose name is on it?” Ethan stroked my hair, trying to pacify me. “Babe, even if I had to go through the ceremony with Lily because of a mix-up, you’re the one I love.” “Besides, we’re getting our marriage license soon. Just view this ceremony as a game.” Lily walked over in her reception dress, the wedding ring on her finger painfully eye-catching. So the wedding I spent a year planning was just a “game” to them. It didn’t matter who the bride was. I froze, my eyes stinging with tears. It felt like an iron band was tightening around my chest, suffocating me. Seeing this, Lily walked over with a sheepish look. “Chloe, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have…” Ethan immediately pulled her behind him. “Why are you apologizing? The officiant got the name wrong. It’s not your fault.” No, it wasn’t her fault. And it wasn’t Ethan’s fault either. I was the one who changed the name to Lily on purpose. I wanted to see if he would stand up for me. But Ethan didn’t choose me. Clearly losing his patience, Ethan’s face completely fell. “Chloe, can you grow up? Everyone is waiting to celebrate. If you want to throw a fit, do it when we get home.” In his eyes, my feelings were never as important as Lily’s. When I had a 102-degree fever, he was out helping Lily look for her lost dog. When I was stranded in a downpour after work without an umbrella, I called him, only for him to say he was busy fixing Lily’s broken showerhead. No matter what happened, big or small, I was always his last priority. My heart completely died. “Ethan, let’s break up.” “Break up?” He was taken aback, then let out a scoff. “Over this?” Right then, my phone buzzed with a Snapchat notification. “I told you he wasn’t the one. Since you’ve agreed, how about we go dress shopping and take wedding photos next week?”

Not far away, my mother waved at Lily. “Sweetheart, come here! Let your uncle get a good look at the beautiful bride.” Lily hesitated, clutching Ethan’s sleeve. “Maybe we should leave first.” He didn’t move. He smiled warmly at her. “Go ahead. I’ll join you in a second.” Lily walked away, but I still hadn’t backed down. Ethan thought about my breakup threat. He folded his arms, looking me up and down. “Can you actually live without me?” he asked casually. “Even if something did happen between Lily and me, you’re just throwing a tantrum. You’ll crawl back to me in a couple of days anyway.” Looking at his smug, confident face, I raised my hand and slapped him hard across the face. Then I turned and walked out of the banquet hall. Inside, the lights were dazzling, and everyone was happily playing along with Lily’s “accidental” wedding. Standing in the cold wind, my hands shook as I typed a reply. “No need for photos. Let’s go straight to City Hall and register this Monday.” I went back to my apartment and started packing. We had just bought a new house for our future marriage. Thinking of it now, a wave of desolation washed over me. The light purple wallpaper, the crystal chandelier, even the cream-white nightstand… The entire house was decorated exactly to Lily’s taste. When the house was being renovated, Ethan had warned me, “Honey, don’t go to the new house yet. I’m worried about the paint fumes and formaldehyde. It’s bad for your health.” For a whole year, he had spent his time decorating a house tailored entirely to Lily’s preferences. On the bed lay a worn silk pajama set—Lily’s style and size. I took a photo and sent it to Ethan. He replied casually: “Lily used our shower on a rainy day last week and must have left it there.” The house I worked tirelessly to save up for was first occupied by Lily. I didn’t reply. My phone exploded with a flurry of messages from him. I threw the phone onto the bed and looked around the room. On the windowsill were the wind chimes and knickknacks that Lily loved. And then, there was a photo wall. I walked closer. Every single photo was of Ethan and Lily on trips together. There were dates written underneath. December 25, 2025. Last Christmas—which was also my birthday. Ethan had told me he had an urgent business trip, but he had actually taken Lily to Iceland to see the Northern Lights. Valentine’s Day, 2026. He said he had to go back to his hometown for a family emergency. But he was actually at the beach with Lily. A drawer was slightly open. I knelt down and pulled it open. Inside were four plane tickets for an international flight. The names on them read: Ethan Carter, Lily Miller, and my parents. In their future plans, I was never even considered. Tears streamed down my face uncontrollably. “Chloe!” I spun around. Ethan rushed in, with Lily trailing behind him. His face was livid, and he was out of breath. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming to the house?” I choked back my tears. “Did you plan on moving in here with her?” “Lily spent days helping us prepare for the wedding! She’s just staying here for a bit. Can you stop making a mountain out of a molehill?” “For me?!” The emotions I had bottled up for years finally erupted. “But you ended up having a wedding with her!” Ethan scowled and groaned. “Chloe, why do you have to be so relentless?” I looked at him, the love in my eyes completely gone. I let out a self-deprecating laugh. “The name ‘Lily’ on the wedding welcome board? I was the one who wrote it.”

Ethan’s breath hitched, and he froze. “Chloe, are you insane? I worked so hard on this wedding, and you treated it like a sick joke?” Lily stood behind him, looking timid but still chiming in. “Chloe, how could you hurt Ethan like this? He loves you so much. He just said he would plan an even bigger wedding for you.” He loves me? For a second, I felt a wave of daze. Five years ago, Ethan had traveled to over ten cities with me just to accompany me for my exams. He had set off fireworks for me at midnight on my birthdays. He had made so many promises when he loved me most. Now, hearing the word “love” from their mouths felt incredibly cheap. I pulled a used pregnancy test out from behind my back. “Then explain this.” Lily’s face turned as white as a sheet. I locked eyes with her. “I found this in the trash can. Lily, you don’t even have a boyfriend, do you?” Ethan snatched the pregnancy test from my hand and snarled, “Chloe, who gave you the right to dig through the trash? This is her private business. What does it have to do with you?” Lily sobbed, her voice pleading. “Chloe, I’m an adult. Can you stop interfering in my life?” “So you admit it’s yours?” I pulled out my phone. “Fine. If you don’t want me to interfere, I’ll let Mom and Dad handle it.” Ethan slapped the back of my hand, sending my phone flying across the room. “I slept with Lily.” A sudden wave of dizziness hit me, and my ears rang. “Ethan… how could you?” Hearing this, Lily looked at me in panic. Ethan grabbed her hand. “I got drunk at that gala last month and mistook her for you. We slept together.” He pointed at the silk pajama set on the bed. “She was wearing that.” My fingernails dug deep into my palms, but I couldn’t feel any physical pain. Just as I raised my hand to slap Lily, my mother burst through the door. She violently pushed my hand away. “Chloe! How dare you try to hit Lily!” Ten minutes ago, I had caught a glimpse of my parents standing outside the door. They had been quietly watching everything. They only rushed in to stop me the moment I raised my hand against Lily. My parents fussed over Lily, wiping her tears with tissues. I was left standing there like an outsider. After a long silence, my mother walked over and sighed. “Chloe, since what’s done is done, stop being so petty.” “Go sign the papers with Ethan. Let Lily have the baby, and you can raise it as your own.” Ethan chuckled, a playful smirk on his face. “Babe, once we’re married, we’ll be family. You can’t honestly be jealous of Lily, can you?” I looked down and opened a video on my phone. It was security footage showing Ethan and Lily passionately kissing the moment they stepped out of the elevator, all the way until they unlocked the apartment door. He looked perfectly sober. He even shielded her head with his hand so she wouldn’t bump into the doorframe. Below the video was a text from a friend: “Don’t let them gaslight you. I pulled the hallway security footage for you.” I saved the video and sent a quick reply to Julian. “See you at City Hall on Monday morning at 8:00 AM.”

I forced my tears back. “Ethan, we’re over. I’m marrying someone else.” A second later, Ethan let out a mocking laugh. “Break up with me? Who else would want you?” “Do you think you’re still a virgin like Lily? I’ve slept with you countless times.” The stinging pain and dizziness intensified, blurring my vision. Realizing he had crossed a line, Ethan’s tone softened slightly. “Chloe, I didn’t mean it like that.” “Ethan, Lily is carrying your baby. Give her a proper wedding.” I left him with an enigmatic smile. Before leaving, I heard their voices coming from the living room. I stood right outside the door, listening. “Ethan, will Chloe really not break up with you?” Ethan lit a cigarette and tilted his head up. “She has severe insomnia. She’ll never leave me.” “But she’ll get cured eventually, right?” Lily pressed, skeptical. Ethan sneered, completely confident. “She’ll never get cured.” My heart shuddered at his words. “I switched her sleeping pills with vitamins a long time ago. They do absolutely nothing.” My knees buckled, and I almost collapsed. Inside the room, my mother gasped in admiration. “Ethan, you’re brilliant! Tomorrow we’ll take Lily to the hospital to see if it’s a girl or a boy!” I stumbled away. Not long after, Ethan sent me a text. “I’ll give you one day to cool off. Monday morning at 9:00 AM, I’ll be waiting for you at City Hall.” I blocked him. For the next two days, I vanished from their lives. Ethan assumed I was just throwing another tantrum. He had no idea that I had already signed my marriage certificate. On Monday morning, Ethan didn’t see me at City Hall, so he sent me a final ultimatum. “If you’ve cleared your head, come sign the papers. Wednesday morning…” Suddenly, his phone buzzed. It was a call. His childhood friend, Marcus, laughed on the other end. “Congrats, bro! But this is pretty wild. Who holds the wedding ceremony first and signs the papers later?” “What?” Ethan was utterly confused. “I saw your wife post her marriage certificate on Snapchat. Why didn’t you post anything?” Marcus sent over a screenshot. Chloe’s Snapchat story showed two official marriage certificate covers. The caption read: Hoping this time, it’s the right person. Ethan’s face drained of color. If it wasn’t him… who on earth did she marry?

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I have a severe panic disorder. The smallest things can trigger a massive attack. Because of this, I’ve always lived my life with extreme caution. But on the eve of my engagement, an old flip phone mysteriously appeared inside my penthouse—an apartment protected by a high-tech biometric lock. There was a single message glowing on the screen: “Ten million dollars to leave Julian Vance. Or I will ruin your wedding.” I was shaking, absolutely terrified. That very night, Julian upgraded the apartment’s security to military grade. He kissed my forehead gently and whispered, “Don’t be scared, Chloe. I’m here. No one can touch you.” His close friend, Victoria, only mocked my fragility. “Scared by a petty prank? How can Julian ever trust you with his empire or wealth if you’re this fragile?” With Julian’s constant comfort, I tried my best to calm down. But the threats only got worse. The terror began eating me alive. I suffered two episodes of stomach bleeding from the sheer stress, spending my nights curled up inside the closet, too terrified to close my eyes. Finally, the day of our rehearsal dinner arrived on a luxury yacht. But during the toast, Julian projected those exact threatening messages onto the giant screens for all our guests to see. He smiled and announced: “Sorry to startle everyone. This was actually a stress and loyalty test I designed for my fiancée. And she passed beautifully.” The crowd erupted into thunderous applause. The keys to a multi-million-dollar estate were presented to me on a silver platter as my reward. I stared at his deeply affectionate face, but I didn’t reach for the keys. There would be no happily ever after for us.

There were forty-five days left until the wedding of the century. The moment I pushed open my penthouse door, my foot hit something hard. It was a black velvet gift box, sitting quietly on the pristine white cashmere rug in the foyer. My heart skipped a beat. This penthouse used a state-of-the-art biometric lock that scanned both irises and veins. Aside from Julian and me, even the cleaning staff could only enter during specific hours, escorted by our private concierge. Who could have slipped this inside without a sound? With trembling hands, I opened the box. There was no bomb, no written threat. Inside was just an old, outdated black cell phone, and a printout of my wedding portrait—slashed and smeared with red paint. Suddenly, the phone screen lit up. A text message popped up: “Ten million dollars to leave Julian Vance. Reply before midnight, or I will make sure you drag the Vance name through the mud on your wedding day.” Cold sweat instantly soaked through my back. I stumbled toward the kitchen island, grabbed my personal phone, and dialed Julian. It rang three times before he picked up. In the background, I could hear the rustle of papers from a board meeting. Julian kept his voice low, sounding slightly annoyed but still gentle. “Chloe, I’m in a meeting. What’s wrong?” “Someone was inside…” My teeth chattered as I stared at the old phone like it was a venomous snake. “Someone got into our home. They left something. They’re offering me ten million dollars to leave you!” There was a silence on the other end for about five seconds. The background noise suddenly vanished. Julian’s voice turned dead serious. “Stay exactly where you are. Don’t touch anything. I’ll be there in ten minutes.” He meant it. Ten minutes later, he burst out of the elevator with two bodyguards. The moment he walked in, he pulled my shaking body tightly into his arms. His large hand cupped the back of my head, feeling my frantic, racing heartbeat. “You’re safe, Chloe. I’ve got you.” He glanced at the box on the floor, his eyes instantly turning cold. He ordered his guard, “Check the security footage, call the police, and get this box dusted for prints.” I clutched his bespoke designer suit, my knuckles turning white. “Julian, the lock wasn’t forced. How did they get in?” Julian knelt down. Using a gloved hand, he flipped the ruined photo over. Written on the back in messy ink was: [Your fiancé is much dirtier than you think.] He let out a cold scoff and tossed the photo into a plastic evidence bag. “Ten million to buy my future wife? What a cheap threat. It’s probably a desperate move by a business competitor or some bankrupt enemy. Chloe, have you been showing off your wealth on social media lately?” I froze. His question was casual, but it felt like a sharp needle piercing my nerves. “No,” I said quickly. “I barely post anything on Instagram. You know that. Ever since we got engaged, I cut off almost everyone.” “I was just asking. Don’t be nervous.” He immediately softened his tone, carrying me over to the sofa and pressing a glass of warm water into my hands. “With the wedding coming up, people will try dirty tricks. I’m just worried you’ll let this scare you to death.” The police arrived that afternoon. After taking our statements, the detective delivered some frustrating news. The hallway and elevator cameras had undergone a system upgrade just half an hour prior, leaving a ten-minute blind spot. There was no footage. And since the sender had only sent a single text without making physical threats, they could only file a report. Julian put immense pressure on the building management right in front of the police. Once they left, he turned back to comfort me. That evening, Victoria, his childhood best friend and our wedding planner, dropped by. She walked in on high heels, looking around the heavily guarded penthouse with a mocking smirk. “Chloe, aren’t you overreacting a bit? A piece of spam mail and you drag Julian away from a multi-billion-dollar merger?” I clutched a throw pillow, my stomach churning in pain. “Someone was inside our home.” “Maybe you just didn’t close the door properly?” Victoria sat down next to Julian and poured herself a glass of red wine. “Stalkers and obsessed fans do crazy things these days. But honestly, ten million? If you actually took the money, Julian would be the laughingstock of high society.” “Shut up, Victoria,” Julian said coldly. “Chloe is sensitive. Stop with the sarcastic remarks.” Victoria shrugged. “I’m just joking. I’m just saying, if she wants to be the wife of the CEO of the Vance Group, she needs a stronger spine. What if someone offers her a hundred million next time? Or threatens her life? Is she going to call the cops every single day?” Julian didn’t argue with Victoria’s logic. He only held me tighter, resting his chin on my head. “My woman doesn’t need to be strong. I will protect her.” That night, the penthouse security was upgraded to military-grade. Julian stayed with me, holding me tight in the master bedroom. But I woke up gasping at two in the morning. I had suddenly remembered something. The black velvet box in the foyer had been tied with an incredibly complex double-loop sailor’s knot. I had only ever seen one person tie a knot that way. Julian.

The second threat came much faster than I expected, and it was far more terrifying. Thirty days until the wedding. I went to a luxury bridal salon for my final dress fitting. Because of the previous incident, Julian had two bodyguards standing right outside my fitting room. The salon had been completely cleared out for me. Only two designers and I were in the studio. I stood in front of the massive floor-to-ceiling mirror, wearing a cathedral-length gown encrusted with thousands of tiny diamonds. Suddenly, the old phone—which Julian insisted I keep with me for “location tracking”—vibrated in my purse. I froze. The designer kneeling to adjust my hem didn’t notice. Taking a deep breath, I pulled out the phone. It was a photo. In the picture, I was wearing this exact dress, shot from behind. The photo clearly showed the small section of the waist that was temporarily pinned because I had lost weight. Below it was a text: “Thirty million. By the way, you’ve gotten thinner. Are you skipping meals, or are you too terrified to sleep?” I whipped my head around! Behind me, there were only empty racks and large windows. The building across the street was at least fifty yards away. “Someone is watching me!” I screamed, pushing the designer away and running out of the room, clutching my heavy skirts. The bodyguards rushed in, immediately drawing all the heavy curtains. I curled up in the corner of the fitting room, shaking violently. Cold sweat ruined my makeup. The feeling of being watched like a trapped rat choked the air right out of my lungs. By the time Julian arrived, I was on the verge of a total breakdown. Seeing my pale face, his brows furrowed deeply. He snatched the old phone, staring at the photo. Then, he called his security chief, his voice icy. “Pull all security footage from the building across the street for the last hour! Don’t let a single soul slip away!” I grabbed his arm, my nails digging into his skin. “Julian, take me away… He’s nearby. He’s watching me right now!” “Chloe, look at me.” Julian grabbed my wrists. His grip was so tight it hurt. His gaze was intense and domineering. “The more you panic, the more you play into his hands. He’s just a rat hiding in the shadows. You are going to be Mrs. Vance. You cannot let a cheap trick break you.” I looked at him, tears streaming down my face. “But he took a picture of me inside the fitting room! What’s next? Is he going to stand in front of me with a knife?” Julian swept me up into his arms and walked toward the elevator. “There won’t be a next time. Starting today, you are moving to the Apex Estate. Not even an unregistered bird can fly in there. We are throwing away your phones. Your only contacts will be me and your parents.” “But the wedding…” “The wedding goes on,” he said firmly, leaving no room for argument. “If we cancel the wedding over a few text messages, the Vance family will lose face. And I will not back down.” Once I moved to the Apex Estate, I was completely isolated. No internet, no social media. Even if I wanted to call my best friend, Julian would stay by my side under the guise of “keeping me company.” He took the old phone, claiming he sent it to a top-tier hacking team to trace the IP. I became a golden canary locked in a gilded cage. My only connection to the outside world was Julian, who came home every evening to have dinner with me. On the third night, Victoria came by to drop off the guest list. Seeing how pale and exhausted I looked, a flash of smug satisfaction crossed her eyes. “Chloe, aren’t you being a bit dramatic? If you’re this fragile, what are you going to do if someone sets off a firecracker at the wedding? Pass out on the altar?” I bit my bloodless lip and said nothing. Julian walked over, carrying a bowl of soothing chamomile tea. He handed it to me and frowned at Victoria. “That’s enough. Leave the list and go. Chloe has a sensitive stomach, she doesn’t need you stressing her out.” Victoria threw the list onto the table. “Julian, I’m saying this for your own good. The price is up to thirty million now. What if they offer a hundred million? Can you guarantee she won’t take it? There are too many gold-digging women out there who would run with that kind of cash.” “Get out,” Julian said. His voice wasn’t loud, but it was freezing cold. Victoria’s face paled. She bit her lip, turned on her heels, and stormed out. Once the door closed, Julian pulled me into his chest, rubbing my back. “Don’t listen to her. I know my Chloe isn’t like that. Even if they offered ten billion, you would never betray me, right?” He was asking me a question. But his tone sounded more like he was demanding a vow of absolute submission. I leaned against his chest, listening to his steady heartbeat, and whispered, “Yes.”

That thirty-million-dollar threat became a curse, initiating a new round of torment. Twenty days until the wedding. Because the Apex Estate was heavily guarded, the stalker seemed to have vanished. My frayed nerves finally relaxed a little, and I asked Julian if I could see the venue for our rehearsal dinner. Julian gladly agreed. He had rented a massive luxury yacht for the event. By evening, the wind over the water was strong. Julian had to take an urgent international video call, so he left the bodyguards outside while I rested alone in the VIP lounge on the second deck. The room was quiet, filled only with the sound of waves hitting the hull. Suddenly, with a sharp click, all the lights went out. The entire second deck plunged into pitch-black darkness. My heart gasped. I stood up to feel my way to the door, but in the dark, I heard incredibly soft footsteps. “Who’s there?!” my voice shook. The guards outside didn’t answer. The footsteps stopped less than two feet away from me. A faint scent of expensive cologne drifted past. Then, a deep, digitally altered voice whispered right into my ear, so close I could feel his breath: “Fifty million, plus three villas in Tuscany. Chloe, this is your last chance.” He called me Chloe. Only my parents and Julian called me Chloe! “Who are you?! Get away from me!” I screamed, grabbing a glass from the table and hurling it toward the voice. The sound of shattering glass pierced the dark. I ran blindly toward the door, but my foot came down hard on the shards. A sharp, agonizing pain shot through me, and I collapsed, hearing a sickening crack from my right ankle. “Ah!” I curled into a ball on the floor, crying out in pure despair. “Julian! Help me! Julian!” Suddenly, the door was kicked open with a loud bang. Light flooded the room. Julian rushed in, looking like a savior emerging from the light. A crowd of panicked guards and staff followed behind him. “Chloe!” He rushed over and scooped me up. Seeing my bloody foot and swollen ankle, his eyes turned red with fury. He roared at his men, “Are you all useless?! What do I pay you for?! Search the yacht! Turn this ship upside down!” I clutched his tie, trembling in his arms. “He was just here… he called me Chloe… Julian, I’m so scared, I’m so scared…” “You’re safe, I’ve got you,” Julian whispered, kissing my forehead repeatedly. “No one can take you away. You are mine.” He held me tightly all the way to the hospital. As the doctor cleaned the glass shards and put my ankle in a cast, I was sweating from the pain. Julian put his hand over my mouth. “Bite me. Don’t hurt yourself.” Looking at the blood on his cuffs, my tears fell. I bit down hard on his hand. He didn’t even flinch, using his other hand to wipe my tears. In that moment, I truly believed he was the man who loved me more than life itself. But then. After the doctor left and Julian went to the bathroom to wash the blood off his hands, his jacket slipped from the bedside chair. The old flip phone—the one that was supposed to be with a “hacking team”—slid out of his pocket. The screen lit up with a new notification. As if possessed, I reached out and tapped the screen. There was no passcode. The message was brief: “Mr. Vance, we’ve done several rounds of threats now. Should we continue?” My blood turned to ice. Those words felt like a scalpel, slicing right through all my terror, my gratitude, my breakdowns, and my tears. I stared at the screen, a loud, high-pitched ringing filling my ears. The sound of running water in the bathroom stopped. I quickly slipped the phone back into his jacket pocket, lay back on the bed, closed my eyes, and forced my breathing to slow down. Julian walked out, his steps light. He came to the bedside, tucked the blanket around me, and then pulled out his phone to check it. I could feel his gaze on my face, lingering for so long that it took everything in me not to open my eyes. Finally, he turned and stepped out of the room to make a call. The door wasn’t fully closed. His whispered voice drifted in from the hallway: “The test is over. I’ll wire the remaining balance to your account. Tell Victoria to cancel the next phases. She’s on the verge of a breakdown.” “…Yes, the results are perfect. She doesn’t trust anyone but me now.” I opened my eyes in the dark. Tears ran down silently, cold and biting. There was no crazy stalker. It was just the man I was about to marry, hiring people to put me through a sick “loyalty and dependency test.” Every desperate cry for help, every tear I cried in his arms, and every ounce of panic I felt had been nothing but data points on his perfect progress report.

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My husband crashed his sports car into a dump truck at midnight while speeding to deliver his first love’s cat. He was smashed into unrecognizable pieces. The very next morning, I was the first person in line at City Hall to file his death certificate and freeze his estate, leaving absolutely nothing behind. The clerk, Mrs. Gable, looked at me over her glasses. “You’re handling this spousal death registration awfully fast, aren’t you?” “I have to,” I replied flatly. “If I don’t, I’m afraid his ghost will crawl back to bottle-feed that damn cat.” With the official red stamp pressed onto the death certificate, my five years of suffocating, miserable marriage were officially buried. Three days later, the lawyer called us in to read the will. His first love sat across from me, wearing a pristine white dress. She cradled the cat in her arms, a smirk stretching so wide it almost reached her ears. She honestly thought she was the heroine of her own grand romance novel. “All bank accounts and real estate under Ethan’s name shall be inherited solely by Miss Lily Zhao,” Mr. Vance read aloud. Lily shot me a smug, triumphant look. “I’m sorry, Chloe. But in the end, I was always the one he loved most.” I didn’t say a word. I just tapped the mahogany table, signaling the lawyer to keep reading. Mr. Vance flipped to the next page and cleared his throat. “However, since all of the aforementioned properties have been cross-collateralized as security, Miss Zhao must simultaneously assume the outstanding private high-interest debt of 1.5 million dollars.” Lily’s smirk froze instantly. 0

“Chloe, I know Ethan is gone, but he promised me before he died that this house was meant for me and Prince.” Lily was cradling her Ragdoll cat, which had just given birth. She was wearing a pair of men’s slippers—the ones Ethan used to wear. They were way too big for her, making her look desperately small and fragile. I had just walked in from City Hall with the stamped death certificate in my hand. Looking at this woman in her pure white dress, I almost laughed. Last night, Ethan had sped through red lights to play vet for her cat. He rammed his car straight into a construction truck, and his body was so torn up they could barely piece him back together. His body wasn’t even cold yet, and she was already on my doorstep demanding my house. “Miss Zhao, if memory serves, this house is my matrimonial home,” I said, kicking off my heels and staring her down. “You’re trespassing. I can call the cops right now.” Lily flinched and took a half-step back. The Ragdoll cat in her arms, Prince, hissed at me, baring its sharp teeth. Right then, my mother-in-law, Eleanor, rushed out from the living room, shielding Lily behind her. “What do you mean, call the cops? I invited Lily here,” Eleanor glared at me, her eyes full of hostility. “Ethan just passed away, and you’re already trying to kick out the person he cared about most? What kind of monster are you?” Watching Eleanor protect Lily like a mother hen, a chill ran through my chest. My husband had been dead for less than twenty-four hours. His own mother didn’t care about her son’s death; she only cared about his mistress. “Eleanor, Ethan was my legal husband. This house is marital property,” I said calmly. “She’s an outsider. Why is she moving in with a cat?” Eleanor sneered, pulling Lily over to sit on the sofa. “What marital property? Ethan paid the down payment, and his name is on the deed.” “Lily has been living in a tiny rental—it’s pitiful. And Prince just had kittens; they need a big house to run around in.” “Ethan cherished Lily and Prince more than anything. Now that he’s gone, as his mother, it’s my job to take care of his family.” *His family.* I swallowed the words, tasting the sheer irony. I had been married to Ethan for five years. Eleanor had nagged me every single day to get pregnant, never giving me a single kind look. Now, she was calling a mistress and a cat “her family.” Lily gently stroked the cat, her eyes welling with tears. “Chloe, I know you hate me. But before Ethan passed away, he sent me a Snapchat audio. He said the only thing he couldn’t bear to leave behind was me and Prince.” “He told me to move in. He said this house would only be a real home if I was in it.” She pulled out her phone and tapped an audio file. Ethan’s familiar voice echoed through the living room. “Lily, don’t be scared. I’m on my way. Prince giving birth is a huge deal—how could I not be there?” “Once things settle down, I’ll clear out the penthouse so you and Prince can move in. I won’t let you suffer anymore.” Ethan’s voice in the recording was so tender it could melt. He had never once spoken to me like that. Whenever I was sick with a fever, he would just throw a “drink some water” at me and head out to play video games with Lily. I looked at Lily’s pathetic yet smug face, and the disgust inside me almost boiled over. “And?” I picked up my glass of water and took a sip. “You think a Snapchat audio gives you the right to steal my house?” “Who’s stealing? This was meant for Lily!” Eleanor slammed her hand on the coffee table. “You cursed him! If you hadn’t been so cold to Ethan all the time, would he have driven out in the middle of the night?” “You killed my son! Get the hell out of here right now. This house has nothing to do with you!” Eleanor pointed at the front door, her spit practically flying in my face. I set my glass down, looking at the two of them playing their little roles. I had known about Ethan and Lily for a long time. I just didn’t realize they could be this shameless. “Eleanor, even if the deed is in Ethan’s name, I’ve been paying the mortgage.” “If you want me to leave, fine. Write me a check for the last five years of mortgage payments and renovations, and I’ll walk out right now,” I said coldly. Lily bit her lip, tears spilling over right on cue. “Chloe, why do you have to be so aggressive? Ethan just died, and all you can talk about is money.” “Is his life worth less than a few dollars to you?” She lifted the cat to cover her face, sobbing dramatically. “Oh, Prince, look… this is the woman Ethan married. She has no heart.” “Poor Ethan… only we truly loved him.” Watching her cheap performance made my stomach turn. I said nothing and just watched them put on their show. Because I knew this was only the beginning. 0

The next morning, I was woken up by a loud banging on the door. When I opened my bedroom door, the living room was already a disaster zone. Lily was sitting on the sofa, directing a couple of movers who were hauling her suitcases into the house. The Ragdoll cat, Prince, was scratching my favorite leather sofa, leaving deep, ugly gashes in the leather. Eleanor was standing next to them, happily throwing my decorative glass pieces straight into a trash bag. “What do you think you’re doing?” I walked over, my face cold, and snatched the trash bag from Eleanor’s hand. Inside were souvenirs I had bought during my business trips over the years. “What does it look like? We’re making room for Lily,” Eleanor snapped, glaring at me. “Lily has a lot of things. Your junk is just taking up space. Throw it out.” Lily set down her coffee cup and stood up. She had changed into a tight black dress with a little white flower pinned to her hair, looking like a grieving widow. “Chloe, don’t be mad. Eleanor is just looking out for me.” “Ethan always loved me in black. He said it made me look classy.” She walked over to me, a faint, mocking smile on her lips. Then, she pulled a thick, black notebook from her designer bag. “By the way, Chloe, while I was sorting through Ethan’s things, I found this.” “I figured you should probably know the truth.” She handed the notebook to me. It was Ethan’s journal. I didn’t take it. I just stared at her coldly. “I don’t read the diaries of dead men.” Lily wasn’t bothered. She pulled her hand back and flipped it open herself. “That’s fine. I’ll read it to you.” She cleared her throat, her voice dripping with sweet poison. “March 5th. Lily said she wanted that pastry from the bakery downtown. I stood in line for two hours to get it for her.” “Seeing her smile made it all worth it. The woman at home does nothing but complain about me being late. She’s absolutely repulsive.” “October 12th. Lily’s cat was sick. I stayed with her at the vet all night. Seeing Lily cry broke my heart.” “I want a divorce so badly. I want to marry Lily.” She flipped page after page, reading snippet after snippet. Every single line was a confession of love for Lily and a venomous insult directed at me. Eleanor stood beside her, wiping away tears. “My poor, sweet Ethan… he was suffering so much. He wanted to leave you so long ago.” Lily finished reading, closed the journal, and held it tight against her chest. She looked at me, her eyes bursting with triumphant pride. “Did you hear that, Chloe? Ethan never loved you.” “You took five years of his life. Now that he’s gone, don’t you think it’s time to give me back what belongs to me?” I looked at her arrogant face, feeling absolutely nothing. I knew exactly what kind of man Ethan was. This journal was nothing but a tool for his own self-deluded drama. “Are you done reading?” I asked blankly. “If you’re done, take your cat and get the hell off my sofa.” Lily froze, clearly not expecting this reaction. She thought I would break down, cry, or scream like a madwoman. But she was wrong. “You… how can you be so heartless?” Lily pointed at me, her finger trembling. “Ethan wrote it clearly. He loved me. Aren’t you even a little embarrassed?” “Why would I be embarrassed?” I stepped forward, forcing her to look me in the eye. “Who he loved is his business. But legally, I am his wife.” “You’re just a proud side chick. What you’re holding is nothing but a cheating diary.” Lily’s face went pale. She looked at Eleanor for help. Eleanor instantly jumped in, pointing a finger at my face and screaming. “You shameless bitch! Ethan is dead, and you still dare to bully Lily!” “Let me tell you something, Ethan left a will! This house, and everything he owns, belongs to Lily!” “You won’t get a single dime!” I narrowed my eyes at Eleanor’s words. A will. Ethan actually went through with making a will. Lily regained her confidence, lifting her chin with a smug smirk. “Chloe, Eleanor is right. Ethan took care of everything.” “In three days, the lawyer will be here to read the will. I hope you’ll pack your bags and leave with some dignity.” She scooped up the cat from the sofa and kissed it gently. “Prince, we’re finally going to have our own home. We don’t have to walk on eggshells anymore.” I watched them, a cold smile tugging at the corner of my lips. “Sure. Let’s wait for the will.” 0

Over the next three days, Lily completely treated my house like her personal playground. Not only did she take over the master bedroom, but she also invited Ethan’s old frat bros and her own group of “girlfriends” over. Every night, the house was a chaotic mess. A bunch of people sat in the living room drinking, playing cards, and shouting. Lily walked around wearing Ethan’s button-down shirts, acting like the lady of the estate. “Lily, Ethan really came through for you. He even set up a will.” A guy with bleached blonde hair raised his glass, loudly kissing her ass. “Yeah, Ethan’s biggest regret was not treating you better. This is his way of making it up to you,” another girl chimed in. Lily leaned back on the sofa, cradling Prince, laughing happily. “Stop it, guys. Ethan might be gone, but his love is still here.” “Once the will is finalized, I’m taking everyone on a trip to Hawaii to thank you all for taking care of us.” She shot a sideways glance at me as I stood near the kitchen door, purposely raising her voice. “Some people just waste space. She blocked his life for five years, and in the end, she gets absolutely nothing.” The crowd burst into laughter. I held my glass of water, watching these clowns with cold eyes. Eleanor walked out of the kitchen with a plate of sliced fruit, placing it eagerly in front of Lily. “Lily, eat some fruit. You’re eating for two now, you need the nutrients.” The living room went dead silent. Everyone stared at Lily in shock. My hand holding the glass tightened slightly. *Eating for two.* Lily looked down shyly, rubbing her flat stomach. “Eleanor, please. It’s not even three months yet. The doctor said we shouldn’t announce it too early.” She looked up, throwing a challenging look my way. “Chloe, I’m so sorry. Ethan is gone, but he left me the most precious gift.” Eleanor raised her chin proudly, announcing to the room: “Our Lily is pregnant. Ethan has an heir!” “This is the real daughter-in-law of our family. Not like some people who couldn’t even give him a child but still took up the bed.” The crowd immediately erupted in congratulations, praising Lily like she was royalty. I looked at Lily’s smug “pregnant with the heir” face, holding back a laugh. Ethan was diagnosed with severe male factor infertility three years ago. His active sperm count was literally zero. Only Ethan and I knew about this. Whoever was growing inside Lily’s womb, it definitely wasn’t Ethan’s. But I didn’t say a word. Now wasn’t the time. I took my glass, turned around, and walked back to my guest room, shutting out the noise. The higher you climb, the harder you fall. Lily, enjoy your little victory tonight. Tomorrow, you’ll be begging for mercy. On the third morning, the lawyer rang the doorbell right on time. Lily had dressed up in an incredibly formal white suit, her hair pinned up flawlessly. She had even put a tiny black bowtie on her cat, Prince. The living room was packed. Eleanor, Lily’s relatives, and all her fake friends had showed up to witness her “big moment.” Mr. Vance carrying his briefcase looked around the room, his eyes finally landing on me. “Mrs. Chloe, as a legal spouse, you are also a beneficiary. Please take a seat.” I pulled out a chair and sat directly opposite Lily. Lily looked at me, her smile practically splitting her face. “Chloe, honestly, you don’t need to sit here and embarrass yourself.” “Ethan’s will probably doesn’t even have a single comma dedicated to you.” I didn’t respond. I just knocked on the table, gesturing to the lawyer. Mr. Vance cleared his throat and pulled a sealed document from his briefcase. “Everyone, this is the last will and testament of Ethan, executed and notarized before his passing.” “I will now read it aloud.” The living room fell so silent you could hear a pin drop. Lily sat up straight, clasping her hands tightly, her eyes burning with excitement. Eleanor stared unblinkingly at the document in the lawyer’s hands. “I, Ethan, hereby declare this to be my will. The penthouse downtown, along with all funds remaining in my personal bank accounts, shall be inherited solely by Miss Lily Zhao.” Mr. Vance’s voice was steady and clear. As soon as he finished, the living room erupted into wild applause. Eleanor grabbed Lily in a tearful hug. “Lily! Did you hear that? Ethan left everything to you!” Lily shot me a smug, arrogant look. “I’m sorry, Chloe. But he loved me more.” “This house and Ethan’s money are mine now. Please pack your bags and leave today.” Faced with her taunting, I didn’t even blink. I leaned back in my chair and looked calmly at Mr. Vance. “Mr. Vance, is the reading complete?” The lawyer adjusted his glasses and turned to the next page. “Not quite.” He cleared his throat and read the next line loudly: “However, since all of the aforementioned properties have been cross-collateralized as security, Miss Zhao must simultaneously assume the outstanding private high-interest debt of 1.5 million dollars.” As the lawyer’s voice faded, the entire room fell into a deathly silence.

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I have a little flaw. My brain always runs a half-beat behind everyone else’s. Three years ago, on a rainy night, a man in a tailored suit was lying on the curb, reeking of alcohol. I dragged him inside and made him a bowl of instant ramen. After he finished eating, he looked up and said, “Marry me.” I thought about it for a second. It wasn’t like I had anything better to do. “Sure,” I said. During our three years of marriage, he hired eight maids for me. Every month, he deposited two hundred thousand dollars of allowance into my card. I was too lazy to even change the default PIN. Yesterday, he came home looking terrible. He slid an envelope across the table. “The Vance family is completely ruined. I’m nine hundred million dollars in debt.” “There’s five million left on this card. It’s for you.” I was peeling a mandarin orange. My hands were sticky, and I couldn’t grab the pen. He grabbed a tissue, wiped my fingers dry one by one, and then gently pressed the pen into my palm. I signed the divorce papers. As I walked out, I suddenly remembered that my pregnancy test had shown two pink lines this morning. Whatever. I’d deal with it later. 0

“Chloe, Ethan asked me to collect your things.” A man in a black suit was standing at the door, wearing a Vance Family driver’s ID badge. He was holding two empty suitcases. I leaned against the doorframe and glanced at him. “What things?” “Ethan said you need to move your personal belongings out by the end of the day.” I looked down at the second mandarin orange I was halfway through peeling. We signed the papers last night, and the movers were already here before nine this morning. Talk about efficiency. “I don’t need the suitcases. I don’t have anything to pack.” The driver blinked, clearly caught off guard by how chill I was about being thrown out. He peeked past me into the ten-thousand-square-foot penthouse. It was packed with designer furniture and expensive decor. None of it belonged to me. Three years ago, when I walked through those doors, I had nothing but the clothes on my back. I was leaving the exact same way. I stuffed the orange into my coat pocket, slipped into a pair of flats, grabbed my phone, and walked out. The driver hesitated as he followed me. “Chloe… that card… Ethan said you took it?” “It’s on the coffee table.” He stopped in his tracks. “You didn’t take it?” “Forgot.” I didn’t actually forget. I was just too lazy to take it. To him, that five million was his final shred of dignity. To me, it was just a number. As the elevator descended, my phone buzzed. Caller ID: Ethan Vance. I stared at the screen for two seconds and let it ring. The scent of orange peel was still on my fingertips. A little sour. When the elevator hit the underground garage, the white Porsche he had bought me was still parked in its designated spot. I hadn’t brought the car keys either. I hailed an Uber. When the driver asked where to, I thought about it. “The Sterling Estate, East Side.” On the way, my phone rang three more times, all from Ethan. On the fourth time, I finally picked up. “Why didn’t you take the card?” His voice was raspier than last night, sounding like he hadn’t slept a wink. “Forgot.” “Chloe, five million is the last thing I can give—” “I know.” Silence stretched over the line for a few seconds. “Where are you going?” “Home.” Another silence. Then, he whispered, “I’m sorry.” I pulled the phone away from my ear, staring at the buildings flashing past the window. “Ethan, you wiped my sticky fingers dry before making me sign those papers. I’ll remember that.” “It was classy.” “Thanks.” I hung up. The Uber driver glanced at me through the rearview mirror, probably thinking I was a weird passenger. Just got kicked out of my house, yet I was chatting like I was talking about the weather. When I arrived at the gates of the Sterling Estate, I paid the driver and got out. Standing at the entrance, I looked up at the massive iron gates. I hadn’t been back in three years. The climbing ivy on the pillars looked exactly the same. I pressed the buzzer. Thomas, our butler, opened the gate. He was in his sixties and had worked for the Sterling family for thirty years. The moment he saw me, his expression went from polite professional to pure shock, and then to a deep, heartbreaking pity. “Miss Chloe.” “Thomas, I’m home.” He looked behind me. Nothing. No car, no luggage, no entourage. “Just you?” “Just me.” He didn’t ask any questions. He just stepped aside to let me in. I slipped into a pair of slippers and walked into the living room. Nothing had changed. The velvet sofa was still there, and my late mother’s favorite orchid was still sitting on the coffee table. Thomas brought over a cup of warm tea. “Your grandfather is in the study. Shall I inform him?” “No need.” I held the warm mug and sat on the sofa, not rushing to see my grandfather. Thomas stood by my side for a moment, unable to help himself. “Miss Chloe… is it the Vance family…?” “Yeah. We’re divorced.” His lips twitched, but he swallowed whatever he was about to say. He turned toward the kitchen and came back a few minutes later with a hot bowl of chicken noodle soup. It had a perfectly poached egg in it, topped with finely chopped green onions. It looked almost identical to the ramen I had made for Ethan three years ago. I looked at the bowl and suddenly wanted to laugh. Three years ago, I dragged a guy home, made him some food, and married him. Three years later, the guy is gone, but the warm food is still here. I took two bites when my phone vibrated. It wasn’t Ethan. It was a Snapchat friend request from an unknown account. The add message read: *Hi Chloe, I’m Serena Hale, a close friend of Ethan’s. Can we talk?* I stared at the name for a few seconds. Ethan’s friend. In our three years of marriage, he had never mentioned this name once. I tossed my phone face-down on the table and went back to my soup. The soup got cold, and the broth tasted a little too salty. Thomas poked his head out of the kitchen. “Is it good, Miss Chloe?” “It’s great, Thomas. I might need to stay here for a while.” “Your room is always ready. I just aired out the sheets yesterday.” I froze, holding my spoon. “Yesterday?” Thomas didn’t say another word. He just turned and vanished back into the kitchen. Yesterday. He aired out my sheets yesterday. It was as if someone had told him beforehand that I would be coming back today. 0

“You sure are keeping your cool.” My grandfather was sitting in his leather armchair in the study, his reading glasses perched on the tip of his nose, holding today’s newspaper. The front-page headline screamed: *Vance Group’s Capital Chain Snaps: Debts Exceed $900 Million, CEO Ethan Vance Missing.* Missing. But he was literally calling me last night and this morning. “Grandpa, I’m back.” “I see that. I’m not blind.” He flipped the page of the newspaper without looking up. “Did you sign it?” “I signed.” “Did you take the money?” “No.” His eyes finally lifted from the paper, staring at me from over his glasses. It was a complex look. Anger, heartbreak, and a hint of something I couldn’t quite read. “You turned down five million dollars. You’re just like your mother—stubbornly proud to a fault.” I didn’t say anything. My mother passed away when I was young, and Grandpa rarely spoke of her. But whenever he did, his tone was harsh, though his eyes always grew red. “Chloe, do you have any idea how I’ve spent the last three years?” “I know.” “You think you know everything? Then do you know when the Vance family’s financial sinkhole actually started?” I shook my head. He folded the newspaper and set it on the desk. “Two years ago.” Two years ago. Ethan and I had only been married for a year. “The Vance family’s collapse didn’t happen overnight. Someone set a trap. Step by step, they strangled their supply chain and poached their clients one by one.” “Who?” Grandpa looked at me but didn’t answer. “Go get some rest. Some things don’t need to be rushed.” I knew his temper. If he didn’t want to say it, no amount of asking would make him. As I walked out of the study and reached the top of the stairs, Thomas was waiting at the bottom. “Miss Chloe, your room is the third door on the left on the second floor. Just like before.” “Thanks.” “Oh, by the way,” he hesitated, “Your grandfather wanted me to let you know that the Sterling family’s legal team will be arriving tomorrow morning.” “Our legal team?” “He said it’s about your divorce agreement. He wants to review it personally.” I paused on the stairs and looked back at him. “But I already signed it.” Thomas’s expression was incredibly subtle. “Your grandfather said… just because you signed it doesn’t mean it counts.” I didn’t ask further and went up to my room. The room was indeed exactly the same as it was three years ago. Even the ugly alarm clock on my nightstand hadn’t been moved. I bought that clock in high school. The plastic casing was cracked, held together by scotch tape, but it kept perfect time. I lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling. My phone buzzed. It was a text message from that Serena Hale girl. She couldn’t add me on Snapchat, so she went straight to my number. *Chloe, I know you probably don’t want to talk to anyone associated with Ethan right now. But there are things you should know. The nine hundred million Ethan owes? It wasn’t all from bad business deals.* I stared at the text, my thumb hovering over the screen. I didn’t reply. I tossed my phone onto the pillow and rolled over. My stomach felt a bit off. A dull, heavy sensation. I remembered the two pink lines from this morning. The pregnancy test was still sitting on the bathroom counter back at the penthouse. I forgot to pack it. Just like that five-million-dollar card. I forgot. Maybe my brain really is a half-beat behind. I never get stressed when I should, and I don’t even know how to feel sad when things go wrong. I wasn’t excited when I married Ethan, and I wasn’t heartbroken when I left him. But I was definitely hungry. Thomas’s soup hadn’t been enough. I wanted more. I rolled out of bed and padded downstairs to raid the fridge. It was packed with fresh groceries, as if someone had prepared for my arrival. I grabbed two eggs, planning to fry them up. My phone rang again. This time, it was Ethan. I cracked an egg into the pan and picked up with one hand. “Why didn’t you take the card?” “I told you. I forgot.” “Are you back at the Sterling Estate?” “Yeah.” He went quiet. “Chloe, did your grandfather…” “Did my grandfather what?” “Nothing.” More silence. The edges of the egg started to sizzle and bubble in the pan. “Ethan, what are you trying to say?” “You’re pregnant.” My hand holding the spatula froze. “I saw the test. It was on the bathroom counter.” Hot oil splattered from the pan, burning the back of my hand. I turned off the stove. “How far along?” “I don’t know. I haven’t been to the doctor yet.” I heard him take a long, deep breath on the other end, like he was trying to suppress a massive wave of emotion. “The baby is mine.” “Duh.” “Chloe, listen to me—” “Ethan,” I interrupted, “When you handed me that divorce agreement last night, did you know I was pregnant?” He didn’t speak. “You didn’t, right?” “…Right.” “Well, now you know. What of it?” “I’m coming to see you.” “For what? You owe nine hundred million dollars. Are you coming over to discuss which preschool we should enroll the kid in?” He went silent again. I scooped the slightly burnt egg onto a plate and took a bite. It was burnt, but still edible. “Don’t come. My brain is slow. I need time to think.” I hung up, chewing on the burnt egg. serena’s text was still lighting up my phone screen: *The nine hundred million Ethan owes? It wasn’t all from bad business deals.* I stared at it for a moment. I swallowed the egg, my throat feeling dry. I tapped her message and hit reply. *Then what was it?* She replied almost instantly. *He was set up.* *And the person who set the trap is someone you’d never expect.* 0

*Who are you talking about? Just say it clearly,* I texted back. She didn’t reply right away. I sat at the kitchen bar, finished my burnt egg, and drank a glass of milk. My stomach settled, and my mind cleared up a bit. Ten minutes later, Serena texted again. *Chloe, text isn’t the best way to explain this. Can we meet up?* I didn’t reply. I left my phone on the counter and washed my hands. Thomas walked in, holding a folder. “Miss Chloe, your grandfather wanted you to look over this before the legal team arrives tomorrow. Just so you’re prepared.” I dried my hands and took the folder. It was a copy of my divorce agreement with Ethan. Sticky notes were attached to it with Grandpa’s handwriting: *Clause 3 and Clause 7. Major red flags.* I flipped to Clause 3. *“All marital assets accumulated during the marriage shall be solely managed and disposed of by Party A (Ethan Vance).”* Clause 7. *“Party B (Chloe Sterling) voluntarily waives all rights to division of marital property.”* I stared at those two clauses. I hadn’t read them closely last night. He handed it to me, and I just signed. My hands were sticky with orange juice, he wiped them clean, handed me the pen, and I signed. “Miss Chloe, do you know what Ethan did in your name during your marriage?” Thomas’s voice was calm, like he was reading the weather forecast. “What do you mean?” “After Ethan married you three years ago, he used your name as a spouse to secure three massive mortgage loans against assets registered under your name.” I blinked. “I have assets under my name?” Thomas looked at my blank expression and went quiet for two seconds. “Miss Chloe… you didn’t know?” “Know what?” He didn’t answer. He just turned and walked away. I stood in the kitchen, clutching the agreement. Three massive properties. Under my name. I didn’t even know I owned anything. I said my brain runs a half-beat behind, but this was on a whole different level. I ran upstairs to Grandpa’s study. The door was closed. I knocked twice. “Come in.” “Grandpa, Thomas said three of my assets were mortgaged.” Grandpa was pouring tea. His hand was incredibly steady. “You didn’t know?” “No.” He set the teapot down and looked at me. “Before your mother passed away, she transferred everything she owned into your name. A massive commercial plot on the West Side, two office towers Downtown, and a trust fund.” My mouth fell open. “How much is all of that worth?” Grandpa picked up his teacup and blew on it. “Not much. Just about ten times Ethan’s nine-hundred-million-dollar debt.” The clink of his cup against his teeth was very quiet. I stood there, my brain short-circuiting. “To protect you from fortune hunters, your mother put everything into a blind trust. It was set to automatically activate when you turned twenty-two. You happened to turn twenty-two the year you got married.” “Did Ethan know about this?” Grandpa set his cup down, his gaze turning sharp. “How do you think he suddenly ended up lying on the side of the road in front of you?” A rainy night. A man in a suit, smelling of alcohol. The guy I dragged home. “Are you saying—” “I didn’t say anything,” Grandpa interrupted, taking another sip of tea. “Figure it out yourself.” I stood outside the study door, feeling the taste of the burnt egg turning sour in my mouth. That bowl of ramen three years ago. He ate it, told me to marry him, and I said okay. I had always thought I was the one who rescued him. Now, it looked like he had been waiting on that street corner for days, just waiting for me to “rescue” him. My phone rang. Ethan. I declined the call. As I walked downstairs, I looked at Serena’s text again. *Chloe, I’ll be waiting at the Sapphire Café on the East Side tonight. Come or don’t. But there’s something I think you should see with your own eyes.* *It’s a love letter Ethan wrote during college.* *To me.* I leaned against the banister and read the text twice. A love letter to her. From college. Ethan had never mentioned his college days to me. And I had never asked. That’s just how I am. I’m not curious, I don’t pry. If people don’t tell me, I don’t ask. If he made me ramen, I married him. If he told me to sign, I signed. I stuffed the phone in my pocket. I walked to the kitchen, opened the fridge, and grabbed an apple. I took a bite. Sour. Thomas walked over and looked at me. “Miss Chloe, do you want me to get the car ready?” “Where am I going?” “Aren’t you going out?” I stared at him, and he stared back. “Thomas, do you know everything that’s going on?” He took a step back. “I know nothing. I am merely a butler.” Then he added, “But your grandfather did ask me to tell you one thing.” “What?” “He said—don’t stay out too late. You’re eating for two now.” I froze with the apple in my mouth. Grandpa knew too. Who was actually the slow one in this family? Turns out, it was just me. 0

“You came.” Serena was sitting in a corner booth at the Sapphire Café. An untouched black coffee sat in front of her. I sat down across from her and took her in. Long hair, minimal makeup, wearing a soft cream knit dress. She had an old, worn watch on her wrist. She was pretty. The quiet, elegant kind of pretty that you couldn’t find a single flaw in. “You’re Serena Hale?” “Yes.” “What kind of ‘friend’ are you to Ethan?” She twirled her coffee cup. Her fingers were very pale. “College classmates. We dated for two years.” Her tone was flat, as if she were talking about someone else. I leaned back against the booth. “So, the ex-girlfriend.” “Yes.” “And?” She pulled a worn envelope from her bag and slid it across the table. The edges were frayed. On the front were two lines of text written in Ethan’s handwriting. I recognized his handwriting. It was beautiful and sharp. *To Serena Hale.* “Read it yourself,” she said. I pulled out the letter. It wasn’t long, just one page. The gist of it was Ethan saying his family was putting massive pressure on him to marry an heiress from an equal social standing. He didn’t want to drag her down, so he was letting her go. The last line read: *Once I have the power, I will come back for you.* I folded the letter and put it back in the envelope. “Read it.” “Aren’t you mad?” “Why would I be? What he did in college has nothing to do with me.” Serena stared at me, her eyes blinking in surprise. “Chloe, are you seriously not mad?” “No. I wasn’t the one dating him in college.” She looked down and let out a soft laugh. It was a brief laugh, but I caught the emotion behind it. It wasn’t embarrassment. It was a faint trace of disappointment. She wanted me to be furious. She had dragged me all the way out here to show me this letter just to make me miserable. If I was miserable, she would have her opening. “Chloe, I didn’t just ask you out today because of this letter.” “Go on.” “Before the Vance family went under, Ethan reached out to me.” I picked up the glass of warm water the waitress had brought and took a sip. “When?” “Three months ago.” Three months ago. Back then, Ethan hadn’t mentioned a single thing about his company’s troubles to me. He came home every day, ate dinner, and sat next to me scrolling through his phone while I peeled oranges. “Why did he reach out to you?” “To borrow money.” Serena lowered her voice. “He said his company was hitting a rough patch and needed emergency liquid capital. He asked if I could help.” “Did you?” “Yes. I lent him thirty million.” I set my glass down. Thirty million. The ex-girlfriend. Three months ago. He borrowed thirty million dollars from his ex-girlfriend and didn’t tell his wife. “Where did you get thirty million?” “My own company. I run a biotech startup. We just closed our Series A funding two years ago.” A biotech entrepreneur ex-girlfriend. With her own company. Who casually lends him thirty million dollars. “And then?” “Then the Vance family went under anyway. My thirty million went down the drain.” She slid the envelope aside and crossed her hands on the table. “Chloe, I’m not here to ask you for the money. I’m here to tell you that the Vance family’s collapse wasn’t a natural business failure. It was a setup.” “What do you mean?” “I investigated. The suppliers that suddenly pulled out of the Vance Group? They all trace back to the same parent holding company.” I stared at her. “Who owns it?” “I’m still digging. But I have a lead.” She paused, her gaze locking onto my face. “Chloe, do you want to team up with me?” “To do what?” “To find the person who did this. And to help Ethan get his empire back.” I toyed with my glass, staying silent. Her eyes lit up, and she leaned in closer. “I know you might feel like this has nothing to do with you since you signed the divorce papers. But—” “Serena,” I cut her off. “Yes?” “You lent him thirty million, you’re investigating the mastermind behind his downfall, and now you want to partner with me. Are you trying to help him, or are you just trying to win him back?” Her face froze for a fraction of a second. It was incredibly brief. But I saw it. It was the look of someone who had been exposed and couldn’t mask it in time. “I just… he’s my friend, after all.” “Friends don’t carry around ten-year-old love letters to show to their friend’s ex-wife.” Her fingers tightened. I stood up. “Thanks for the info. But I’m not interested in a partnership.” As I reached the door, she called out to me. “Chloe.” I turned around. She was still sitting there, her expression having reverted back to that gentle, quiet mask. “Do you know why Ethan married you?” I looked at her. “Because of the assets under your name. His family dug into your background and realized you were a Sterling. That rainy night wasn’t an accident. It was a staged play.” “You think you rescued a stray man. In reality, he waited in the pouring rain on that street for three days just to get picked up by you.” I didn’t say a word. I pushed the door open, letting the cold wind rush in. Three days. He waited in the rain for three days. Just to be “rescued” by me. For once, my brain didn’t run a half-beat behind. Everything clicked instantly. But knowing it didn’t change anything. My stomach started aching with that dull, heavy pressure again. I pressed my hand against my lower abdomen and hailed a cab. “Where to?” the driver asked. “East Side Women’s Hospital.”

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Five years of marriage, and my husband “forgot” about my peanut allergy for the first time. He dipped a spoon covered in peanut butter straight into my bowl of oatmeal. Instantly, my throat closed up. I gasped, coughing violently, unable to get a single breath of air. He held me tightly, his eyes red with panic. “I’m so sorry, Sierra. I forgot.” I believed him. Until this “forgetfulness” started happening every single week. My health deteriorated rapidly. Yet, he grew softer, more attentive, checking my blood pressure and heart rate every day. He said, “Sweetheart, I need to keep track of your vitals at all times.” I was deeply touched—until I accidentally saw a text message he sent to his first love on his phone. “Don’t rush. I’m logging her anaphylactic data every day. Soon, I’ll have the exact lethal dose calculated.” The next day, I calmly drank the glass of milk he handed me. Under his expectant gaze, I picked up my phone and dialed 91 “Hi, my husband is having a sudden medical emergency. He needs his stomach pumped immediately.” “Oh, and please notify the police. I suspect he has been abusing illegal psychiatric drugs for a long time.” 01 “Sierra, who did you just call?” Julian Vance set the glass of milk back on the table, the warm smile still plastered on his face. Except the warmth in his eyes had vanished, replaced by a chilling cold. I put my phone down. “911.” He tilted his head, acting as if he hadn’t understood. “I told them you need your stomach pumped. And I notified the police.” Silence hung in the living room for about five seconds. Then, he laughed. It wasn’t his usual gentle laugh. It was a chilling, analytical smirk I had never seen before—like a scientist evaluating data in a lab. “Sweetheart, is your anxiety flaring up again because of the allergies?” He took a step toward me. I took a step back. “Don’t touch me.” His hand froze in midair, his knuckles tensing. The doorbell rang. The transition on his face was seamless. Panic, guilt, heartbreak—every emotion was dialed in perfectly. He jogged to open the door. Two paramedics and a young police officer stood on the porch. “Hi, we got a 911 call reporting an emergency at this address—” “It was my wife,” Julian interrupted, his voice laced with the perfect amount of hoarseness. “I’m so sorry to trouble you. She hasn’t been well lately…” He pulled a neatly folded piece of paper from his trousers pocket and handed it over. It was my medical report. *Severe peanut allergy accompanied by severe anxiety and paranoia. Home rest highly recommended.* The doctor who signed that report was recommended by Chloe Sterling. “The allergy triggered some neurological issues. Sometimes she says things that…” He trailed off, rubbing the bridge of his nose, looking exactly like a devoted husband crushed by the weight of a sick wife. The officer looked at the report, then at me. “Ma’am, did you call 911?” I spoke up immediately. “Yes. He’s the one with the problem. He’s been putting—” “Sierra.” Julian stepped close, his grip locking around my wrist with terrifying precision. He turned to the officer with a bitter, helpless smile. “Last week, she called the cops claiming our neighbor downstairs was poisoning her water.” He sighed. “But she’s my wife. I can’t just abandon her.” The paramedics’ expressions softened. The officer asked routinely, “What about the illegal substances she mentioned?” “Feel free to search,” Julian said, spreading his hands wide, completely cooperative. “The whole house. Go ahead.” Of course they wouldn’t find anything. He wasn’t stupid enough to keep the drugs at home. In that exact moment, a chilling realization hit me. The medical report, the pre-empted “fake report” excuse—none of this was a last-minute defense. He had planned his exit strategy long ago. From the very beginning, he was waiting for me to fight back. And waiting for me to fail. The paramedics left. The officer left. The door clicked shut. The sound of the deadbolt sliding into place sounded like a gun being cocked. He kept his back to me, standing in silence for a long ten seconds. When he finally turned around, all expression was gone from his face. No warmth. No anger. Just a blank, hollow stare. In five years of marriage, this was the first time I was seeing the real Julian Vance. “Sierra, you did something very stupid today.” His voice was flat, like he was reading a lab report. “But that’s okay.” He walked over and picked up my phone from the coffee table. His movement was incredibly gentle, like a husband tidying up a room. “I’ll keep this safe for you for now.” The phone slid into his pocket. The gentle smile returned to his face. “Chloe is coming over to visit you tomorrow. She formulated a new hypoallergenic meal replacement powder in her lab.” “You should make sure to thank her.” 02 “Sierra, you look so pale. Did you not sleep well?” Chloe stood at my doorstep, holding an elegant paper bag. She wore a cream-colored knit sweater, her long hair draped over her shoulders, sporting two sweet dimples when she smiled. She looked entirely harmless. “I brought some nutritional powder from my lab. It’s all-natural, highly recommended for severe allergy sufferers.” She handed the bag to me with a beaming smile. I took it and turned it over to read the ingredient list. The third line read: *Defatted peanut protein concentrate.* I had spent six years in a PharmD program. I could recognize any derivative of peanut protein with my eyes closed. This amount wouldn’t trigger an immediate, fatal shock, but it would continuously lower my allergic threshold. Making me more and more hyper-sensitive to peanuts. Until one day, a trace amount the size of a fingernail would be enough to end my life. Julian walked out of the kitchen carrying a tray of tea. “Chloe! You’re here. Come, sit down.” As he passed me, he casually wrapped an arm around my shoulder. “Sierra, Chloe went out of her way to help you. Don’t forget to say thank you.” His tone was gentle, like a parent teaching an ill-mannered child. “Thank you,” I said, keeping my head down. Chloe sat on the sofa, crossing her legs. “Sierra, drink one glass on an empty stomach every morning. Do this for a month, and your allergies will improve drastically.” She looked at me, her smile dripping with sweet poison. “I had a friend who also had severe allergies. He used this formula, and the results were… spectacular.” I forced myself not to ask: *Is that friend still alive?* Julian went back to the kitchen to slice some fruit. Only Chloe and I were left in the living room. Instantly, the smile vanished from Chloe’s face. It was like she had put on an entirely different mask. She leaned in close, her voice barely a whisper. “Sierra, I heard about what happened yesterday.” My fingers tightened around the armrest of the sofa. “911, the police, a stomach pump,” she whispered, savoring each word with a cruel smirk. “Very creative.” I remained silent. “But,” she tilted her head, “smart women don’t make useless phone calls.” “It didn’t do anything, did it? They found absolutely nothing.” She tapped her fingernail against the paper bag of powder. “Drink it on time, Sierra. It’s really *good* for your health.” Julian walked out with the fruit platter. Chloe’s voice instantly switched back to her soft, innocent tone. “Julian, you’re such an amazing husband. Slicing fruit, making tea… Sierra is so lucky.” “Of course. She’s my wife. If I don’t take care of her, who will?” They chatted for half an hour. They talked about her lab projects, his company’s investments. They sounded like two old friends catching up. Before leaving, Chloe went to use the master bathroom. When she came out, I noticed a tiny smudge of black ink on her finger. It wasn’t something you’d get from a bathroom. It was toner ink, the kind left behind when installing a new printer or high-tech hardware. Julian escorted her to the door. They whispered in the hallway. Only two words drifted into my ears: “Data” and “Two weeks.” The front door shut. Julian came back and wrapped his arms around me. “Chloe is so sweet, making this special formula just for you.” He whispered in my ear, “Make sure you drink it every day, okay?” I nodded. Once he shut himself in his study, I walked into the master bathroom. I pulled open the medicine cabinet. Tucked away in the top corner was a tiny black spy camera, no larger than a fingernail. The adhesive on the back was still slightly tacky. She hadn’t come just to deliver powder. I closed the cabinet, washed my face, and walked back to the living room. As I passed the study, the door was cracked open slightly. On his laptop screen was a line graph. The X-axis was labeled with dates. The Y-axis was labeled: *Allergic Threshold (mg).* The line was plummeting downward. At the very end of the trajectory, there was a bright red dot with a label next to it: *Target.* He suddenly looked up, catching me staring through the gap. “Sierra? Miss me? Come in and sit.” “Actually, I wanted to ask—did you drink your nutritional powder today?” 03 “Hi, Mrs. Vance? I’m Mrs. Higgins from the HOA. Just doing a quick check on the fire exit access—” The knock and the voice came through the door simultaneously. I bolted to the foyer. A smart lock. Fingerprint plus keypad. Julian had replaced it three days ago. Only his fingerprint was registered. I was locked in. “Mrs. Higgins! Please call the police—” Before I could finish, the door clicked open from the outside. Julian stood there holding a bag of breakfast bagels, with Mrs. Higgins standing right behind him. “Sierra, you’re up early,” he said naturally, setting the bagels on the dining table. Then he turned to Mrs. Higgins and let out a heavy sigh. “I’m sorry you had to see that, Mrs. Higgins. My wife’s health has been failing. The doctor said her severe allergies are causing neurological anxiety. She constantly thinks people are trying to harm her.” He shook his head with a helpless, weary smile. “Last week, she even called 911 claiming I was a drug addict.” “But she’s my wife. I have to be patient with her.” Mrs. Higgins’s expression shifted from confusion to deep sympathy. But the sympathy wasn’t for me. “Oh, Mr. Vance, you are such a saint of a husband.” “In her condition, have you considered a professional evaluation? My nephew works at the State Psychiatric Facility—” My fingernails dug deep into my palms. *Not a psychiatric facility. Please, god, no.* Julian politely declined the offer. After sending Mrs. Higgins away, he turned around. “Sierra, what were you trying to say to Mrs. Higgins?” His voice was incredibly soft. The softer his voice got, the more terrified I became. “Nothing.” “Good.” He pushed a glass of almond milk toward me. “Chloe said drinking this on an empty stomach helps absorb the powder. Did you mix the powder in?” “Yes.” I hadn’t. It went straight down the toilet. But he didn’t know that. That afternoon, my best friend Harper Davis came over. Julian had invited her. “Sierra! Julian told me you’ve been feeling under the weather. I came as soon as I could!” The moment she entered, she grabbed my hands. Mine were ice-cold. Hers were warm. For the past two weeks, she was the first living person I had touched besides him. I dragged her to the balcony, dropping my voice to an absolute whisper. “Harper, you have to call the police for me. Julian is systematically poisoning me with peanut—” “What?” From the living room, Julian’s voice drifted over. “Sierra, Harper, come have some tea!” He walked out with a tea tray, a warm, bright smile on his face. He slipped an arm around my waist. “Sierra’s allergies have been acting up so often lately. She wakes up gasping in the middle of the night. I barely sleep because I’m terrified something will happen to her.” Harper’s eyes instantly softened with pity. “Julian, you are literally the best husband ever.” “I try.” He leaned down and kissed my forehead. I felt the blood drain completely from my face. Later, Harper and I were left alone in the bedroom for ten minutes. I poured my heart out. I told her about the peanut butter on the spoon, the real reason he checked my vitals daily, the text message to Chloe. Harper’s expression went from shock, to hesitation, and finally to awkward disbelief. “Sierra… are you sure you aren’t… overthinking things?” She chose her words with extreme caution. “I’ve known Julian for years. He’s not that kind of guy. And that text message… do you have it? Can you show it to me right now?” I couldn’t. My phone had been taken away. “See? You might have misread it, or maybe the lack of oxygen from the allergy attacks is causing paranoia…” She squeezed my hand. “You need rest, babe.” She didn’t believe me. Not a single word. When Harper left, Julian walked her to her car. I pressed my ear against the bedroom door, listening to their conversation in the foyer before they stepped out. “Julian, Sierra’s… mental state really does seem a bit off…” “I know. Chloe helped me get in touch with a research team that specializes in allergy-induced psychological disorders. They’re coming next week to do an in-home evaluation.” He paused, sounding heavy-hearted. “If the results are bad, we might have to check her into a facility.” Harper whispered, “Take care of yourself too, Julian. You look so tired.” “I’ll be fine. She’s my wife.” The front door shut. I slid down the back of the door, landing on the cold floor, every bone in my body trembling. He was going to lock me in an asylum. If he succeeded, it would be over. No one believes a certified crazy person. That night, he checked my blood pressure as usual. “110 over 70. Perfect.” He jotted the numbers down in his notebook and kissed the back of my hand. “Sleep well, Sierra. I’m right here.” “As long as you’re cooperative, nothing bad will happen.” 04 “Sierra, take your meds.” He handed me two white capsules. They were prescribed by Chloe’s “specialist team” to “ease my allergy-induced anxiety.” I knew exactly what those capsules were. Six years of pharmacy school weren’t for nothing. It was a modified formula of Flunitrazepam. High doses over a prolonged period would cause severe cognitive impairment and memory loss. Used long enough, it could perfectly mimic the onset of schizophrenia. Manufactured by Chloe’s pharmaceutical firm. They hadn’t even bothered to change the medical-grade blister packaging. “Take them,” he urged with a smile. I placed the capsules in my mouth, took a sip of water, and made a distinct swallowing motion. The moment he turned his back to grab the blood pressure monitor, I slipped the capsules from under my tongue and tucked them into the hidden seam of my pillowcase. I had practiced this exact move for three days. Back when I worked at the hospital pharmacy, I had watched nurses deal with non-compliant patients countless times. I never thought I’d be using those tricks on myself. He came back and wrapped the cuff around my arm. “Did you drink your powder today?” “Yes.” I hadn’t. It went down the bathroom drain. “Good girl.” He noted down the vitals, his brow furrowing slightly. “Your blood pressure is still a bit high. Chloe says if it doesn’t come down this week, we might need to start IV therapy.” They were already pumping my body full of peanut protein, and now they wanted to introduce Flunitrazepam and unknown IV fluids. They were using my body as a literal lab rat. And I had to smile and say okay. That afternoon, Julian had to leave the house to meet a client. He locked the study door before he left. But he forgot one detail. When we remodeled the house during our second year of marriage, there was a small connecting door between the walk-in closet and the study. Later, we blocked it with a massive built-in bookshelf, but the door was still there. It took me forty minutes of agonizingly quiet work to move the heavy books out of the bottom shelves one by one. The lock on the hidden door was rusted, but with a hard twist, it clicked open. His computer was on sleep mode. I tapped the trackpad, and the screen lit up. On the desktop, there was a folder labeled *S.M.* Sierra Miller. My initials. I clicked it. There were four subfolders. The first: *Anaphylactic Response Log.* A detailed Excel spreadsheet. Every entry was timestamped down to the minute. Date, allergen type, dosage, reaction onset time, symptoms, recovery duration. At least three entries per week for the last five months. The second: *Vitals Database.* Blood pressure, heart rate, blood oxygen, weight. Every single stat he had taken from me was meticulously logged. Next to the stats was a red note from Chloe: *Weight has dropped by over 8%. Suggest increasing caloric intake slightly to maintain survival window.* *Maintain survival window.* My hand hovered over the trackpad, frozen for what felt like an eternity. The third: *Insurance.* A life insurance policy. A five-million-dollar payout. The sole beneficiary: Julian Vance. The policy was taken out seven months ago. Exactly two months before his “first time forgetting” my peanut allergy. It was never a mistake. It was a cold, calculated execution plan from day one. The fourth folder had a different name. *CS-01.* Chloe Sterling’s initials. FQ-01. Inside was a death certificate. Deceased: *Arthur Sterling, Male, 36. Cause of death: Anaphylactic shock due to severe seafood allergy.* Date of death: Eighteen months ago. Attached was a local newspaper clipping. The headline read: *Young Tech Entrepreneur Tragically Passes Away from Sudden Allergic Reaction, Family Devastated.* The photo showed Chloe weeping uncontrollably at the funeral. Beneath that was an insurance claim payout form. Payout amount: Eight million dollars. Beneficiary: Chloe Sterling. Same method. Same execution. Same masterminds. I wasn’t their first victim. I found an old USB drive in his desk drawer and copied all four folders onto it. I put everything back exactly as it was, slid the books back into place, and locked the hidden door. I hid the USB drive inside the toe of the designer heels I wore on our wedding day, placed on the very top shelf of the shoe closet. He would never look there. In five years, he had never touched my things. Why would he bother looking through the belongings of a woman who was already dead in his eyes? When he returned that evening, I was sitting on the sofa watching TV. He leaned down from behind and wrapped his arms around me. “Have you been waiting for me?” “Yes.” “Did you take your pills?” “I did.” He smiled, satisfied. “Sierra, do you know when I love you the most?” I didn’t answer. “When you are absolutely, perfectly obedient.”

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A sudden tremor hit our office building. I rushed into my girlfriend’s office, only to find it completely empty. I held my head, panic-stricken, desperately calling Chloe’s phone. Suddenly, someone grabbed my arm and dragged me out through the emergency exit. I looked up. It was Chloe. Her blouse was ripped open, and she was wearing a men’s designer blazer over her shoulders. Looking at her flushed cheeks and her trembling legs, my eyes burned. “Where were you just now?” I asked. In the crowded street outside, I immediately spotted a guy who was also shirtless. He was holding the custom scarf I had bought for Chloe. I recognized him. He was Tyler, the new intern at our company. It turned out that even the woman who claimed to love me to death could cheat. I quietly called my best friend, Marcus. “I’m in. Let’s go abroad and start that business together.” ### “Are you sure you want to cancel this wedding dress, Logan?” “You spent five months customizing and designing this yourself.” The boutique assistant asked me in confusion, looking past me toward Chloe, who was sitting on the sofa near the entrance. Our wedding was set six months ago. I was so invested that I even customized the dress myself, refining every detail. Chloe used to accompany me patiently to every fitting. She would even massage my shoulders when I was tired. Because of this, the staff here viewed us as the perfect couple. But thinking back to yesterday’s tremor, this wedding dress now felt like an eyesore. Chloe had explained to me that she was only mentoring Tyler because he was new. She claimed that during the earthquake panic, someone had accidentally ripped her blouse, so Tyler lent her his blazer. But I knew it was a lie. We used to love each other deeply. But now, her heart had drifted. And I could only pretend not to notice. As I hesitated, Chloe suddenly walked over. She wrapped her arm around mine and said sweetly, “Logan, I think it already looks perfect. You don’t need to stress over the tiny details. Don’t exhaust yourself.” Seeing the assistant hesitate, I said flatly, “Let’s keep it as it is. No more changes.” After finalizing the design, we left the bridal boutique. I was about to head to the bakery to pick up a cake, but Chloe suddenly held me back. “Logan, something came up at the office and I have to head back for some overtime.” “I’ll make it up to you tonight for your birthday, okay?” This was the first time she would miss my birthday. We used to have a rule: save two days of paid leave every year just to celebrate each other’s birthdays. I caught a glimpse of her phone screen. It was a message from Tyler. They had a reservation for a candlelit dinner at a high-end French restaurant. I knew Chloe’s heart was completely gone. Seeing me silent, she leaned against my chest, acting cute just like she used to. In the past, I would have gently ruffled her hair and smiled, telling her it was fine. But now, I couldn’t even force a smile. I forced a stiff grin and said quietly, “Okay.” It was midnight when Chloe finally came home. She handed me an elegant box, her eyes sparkling. “I worked so hard to finish early. Look at your gift! Do you like it?” I untied the ribbon and opened the box. A silk tie lay inside. It was my favorite deep blue. But compared to the luxury box, the tie inside looked cheap. Normally, I would have hugged her tightly in excitement. But last night, I had found two tie boxes in her bag. One was a designer piece worth ten thousand dollars. The other was the cheap one in my hand. She had simply swapped the boxes. I had to admit, she put a lot of effort into lying to me. Chloe took the tie out and put it around my neck. “It looks great on you. It was totally worth the ten thousand dollars I spent.” Then, she kissed my cheek. This sweet gesture only made me feel sick to my stomach. I gently pushed her away and lied, “Really? Let me check the mirror in the bedroom.” Once in the bedroom, I called the bridal boutique. “I don’t want the wedding dress anymore. No need to refund the deposit.” The assistant was shocked and quickly asked if there was an issue with the design. I replied flatly, “The dress is perfect. The person just doesn’t deserve it anymore.” Rather than burying my life in a lie, I chose to wake up and set myself free. ###

Chloe suddenly announced she had to go on a business trip and asked me to help her pack. She had a terrible memory and was always disorganized, never remembering where she put her things. Eventually, she just sat on the bed and watched me do it. Seeing how meticulous I was, even packing her pads, she couldn’t help but hug me from behind. “Logan, do you remember?” “On our first trip, I forgot my pads and stained my pants on the street. You tied your jacket around my waist, found me a restroom, and ran to buy them for me.” “At that moment, I knew you were the one.” Memories flooded back, and my throat tightened. She remembered everything. Yet, it didn’t stop her from cheating. But she forgot the most important part. That day, she promised she would only love me for the rest of her life. People really do choose to forget the promises they can’t keep. She held me for a long time before letting go, whispering that she would miss me. I just casually patted her head, saying we would see each other soon. That night, she slept soundly beside me, even mumbling in her sleep. But the name she muttered belonged to another man. I wanted to ignore it, but her phone screen kept lighting up. After a moment of hesitation, I unlocked it. The password was still the date we officially started dating. But the wallpaper had changed. It was no longer a photo of us. It was a candid, aesthetic shot of Tyler from behind. There were dozens of unread messages, all from Tyler. *“Babe, I’m so excited for our trip tomorrow.”* *“I can’t wait to hold your hand and walk along the beach.”* *“I love the ties you bought me, but you bought so many I can’t even wear them all.”* *“I love the Porsche too. It’s the best birthday gift I’ve ever received.”* *“Remember to wear that lace lingerie I bought you. I want to see it on you.”* Every single message stabbed at my brain. I felt a heavy weight on my chest, making it hard to breathe. I locked the screen and put the phone back. Lying down, I couldn’t fall back asleep. An eight-year relationship. I thought we were finally crossing the finish line. But reality kept slapping me in the face. Everything she used to do for me was now being given to someone else. Love is so fragile. Honestly, I should have noticed sooner. Ever since Tyler started interning at Carter Media, Chloe started working overtime more and more. Eventually, she wouldn’t even come home some nights. She always came up with some lame excuse afterward. She even made Tyler her personal assistant for business trips, claiming she wanted to groom him. Every time she acted cute, my doubts would vanish. But this time, I couldn’t fool myself anymore. The next morning, she got up early, and I followed. After making her breakfast, I offered to drive her to the airport. Guilt flashed in her eyes, and she made several excuses to refuse. I ignored her, grabbed her suitcase, and walked out. “I’m not comfortable letting you go alone.” Left with no choice, Chloe reluctantly followed me downstairs. Once we reached the driveway, I finally understood why she was so nervous. Tyler was parked at the curb in a sleek Porsche, complete with a massive banner draped over the hood. *“Picking up my favorite girl Chloe for our getaway!”* The trunk was filled with fresh roses. I turned to look at Chloe. Her face had gone completely pale. ###

She grabbed my hand instinctively, stammering, “Logan, don’t overthink this. These Gen-Z kids love doing dramatic stuff.” “He just treats me like an older sister. It’s just a prank.” She rushed over, tore the banner down, and muttered angrily to Tyler, “Didn’t I text you and tell you not to come? What are you doing?” Tyler rubbed the back of his neck and smiled sheepishly. “Sorry, man. I was just teasing her.” “I didn’t know you were driving her today. My bad, don’t get the wrong idea.” “Chloe talks about you all the time. Everyone at the office knows how much she loves her fiancé.” He smirked slightly as he spoke, his tone dripping with mockery. I shrugged, acting completely unfazed. “It’s fine.” “You two should head out together. I won’t bother driving her then.” Chloe froze. Before she could say anything, Tyler ushered her into the passenger seat. As the car drove off, the truth finally hit me. So that was where the Porsche I bought for Chloe went. She had gifted it to Tyler for his birthday. Did she forget how she had forced me to take out a massive loan for that Porsche right after I graduated, just because her friends got picked up in luxury cars? Back then, I lived on instant noodles just to make the monthly payments. And now, she had casually handed it over to another man. She had even lied to me, saying she had lent it to her dad. Taking a deep breath, I walked into the office with my resignation letter. When the HR manager saw it, she pushed it back to me. She said seriously, “Logan, stop playing with me.” “If Chloe finds out I approved your resignation, she’ll fire me on the spot.” I had almost forgotten. I had legally transferred Carter Media to Chloe a year ago. Just because she said she didn’t want to work for anyone else and wanted to be her own boss. I handed over the company I had built from the ground up. She was now the CEO. And I was just an employee. I had loved her to the point of stupidity, and she had taken it all for granted. I went back to my desk and printed out a formal resignation request. Now, the only problem was getting her to sign it. Just then, my phone buzzed. It was a flight alert. Chloe’s flight had been canceled due to a storm. It seemed even the universe was helping me. With the flight canceled, Chloe and Tyler returned to the office. Chloe was startled to see me. She quickly ran over and wrapped her arms around my neck. “Logan? Why are you still here?” “Isn’t today your day off?” “Did something happen at the office?” I shook my head and made up an excuse. “I saw the flight was canceled on the news and figured you’d come back here.” “It’s almost lunch. I wanted to take you out for a nice meal.” Chloe smiled and nodded. “Sure! Just give me a second, I need to use the restroom.” I took her handbag and waited outside her office. In the quiet hallway, Tyler and I stood face-to-face. He crossed his arms, dropping the polite act entirely. “Let’s be real. I want Chloe.” “And she’s going to be mine eventually.” “If you have any dignity left, you should just pack up and leave. I know that Porsche belonged to you, by the way.” My fists clenched in my pockets. I pulled out the resignation form I had hidden and handed it to him. “Sure. I’ll make it easy for you.” “Get her to sign this, and I’ll walk out of her life immediately.” Tyler was stunned, clearly not expecting me to agree so easily. “Just like that?” “Just like that.” When Chloe came out of the restroom and saw me waiting, she beamed. “Can’t even leave me alone for a minute, huh?” I didn’t say anything and just walked out of the building with her. During lunch, my phone rang. It was the bridal boutique. They said someone else had fallen in love with my custom wedding dress and wanted to buy it. ###

For the first time, I didn’t drive Chloe home, claiming I had some errands to run. Chloe was surprisingly understanding and nodded. “No worries, go take care of your stuff.” I knew she was just looking for an excuse to leave anyway. Tyler had called her multiple times. She hadn’t picked up because I was there. But she had been completely distracted throughout lunch. The moment I offered to leave first, her eyes lit up. I pretended not to notice, hailed a cab, and went straight to the bridal boutique. The assistant saw me and tried to convince me otherwise. “Logan, did you guys just have a fight?” “If you ask me, you should keep the dress. Couples fight all the time, but you’ll make up eventually. If you cancel it now, it’ll be impossible to get the exact same design made in time.” I knew she meant well. But if she knew what Chloe had done, she wouldn’t be saying this. While waiting for the buyer, my phone rang again. It was the wedding coordinator. “Mr. Carter, the final payment for the wedding venue decor is due.” “We’ve set up a mock-up room. You can come over and check if it’s exactly how you want it.” “If there’s anything you don’t like, we can adjust it now to make sure everything is perfect for the big day.” I rubbed my temples. I had almost forgotten about this. Ever since we set the date, I had been handling all the wedding preparations alone. With so much on my mind, things had slipped through the cracks. Since the wedding was off, I might as well go cancel it and settle whatever fees were left. The buyer for the dress wouldn’t arrive for another half hour, and the venue was just down the street. I informed the boutique assistant and walked over to the wedding mock-up room. The style was exactly what Chloe loved—warm, romantic, with pink balloons floating everywhere. There were two life-sized cutouts of us that I had personally sketched. Beneath them was a beautifully written quote: *“Logan and Chloe, bound together for eternity.”* It looked incredibly pathetic now. I settled the outstanding fees and said quietly, “Cancel the project. The wedding is off.” “Keep the rest of the deposit for your time.” Leaving the designer in shock, I walked back to the bridal boutique. Just as I reached the door, my luck ran out. Chloe and Tyler were walking toward the boutique, holding hands. Seeing me, Tyler smiled mockingly. “Oh, hey, Logan.” “What are you doing here? Doing some shopping?” I didn’t answer. I just stared at Chloe. She instantly pulled her hand away from Tyler’s, looking extremely uncomfortable. “Logan, what a coincidence! I was just helping Tyler pick out some supplies for an upcoming company event.” “A company event?” I asked calmly. “How come I didn’t hear about it?” Panic flushed Chloe’s face. She whispered, “It was a last-minute decision. We haven’t announced it yet.” I nodded, choosing not to call her out. “Okay.” “Carry on then.” The moment I said that, Chloe practically bolted into the grocery store next door. I turned away and walked into the boutique. I sat on the sofa, waiting for the buyer. Five minutes later, the assistant came over to me. “Logan, the buyers are here.” I stood up and walked out. Standing there, with shocked expressions on their faces, were Chloe and Tyler. In the tense silence, Chloe spoke, her voice filled with disbelief. “You’re the one selling the dress?”

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While cleaning out the attic of the old family estate, I accidentally found three candles. Right after, a mechanical voice echoed in my head. “Light one candle to make one wish come true.” Thinking of my boyfriend who had lost his legs in a horrific car accident, I made a wish, half-skeptical. I wished for his legs to heal. Later, that first candle actually brought his legs back. I used the second candle to help him launch his startup, turning him into a billionaire. But on the day he promised to marry me, he looked at me with complete indifference and said, “I thought about it, and let’s just forget it. The one I actually want to marry is Chloe.” I lowered my head, letting out a cold laugh. “And what if I don’t agree?” He raised an eyebrow, his eyes filled with disdain. “I’m notifying you, Sera. I’m not asking for your permission.” Without another word, I turned and walked away. Back in the familiar attic, I didn’t hesitate. I lit the third candle. The clock struck midnight. I looked at the food on the dining table, which had been reheated over and over again. I couldn’t help but ask, “Martha, did you actually tell Carter that I was waiting for him to come home for dinner?” Martha, who had been dozing off, snapped awake immediately. She quickly said, “I did tell Mr. Sterling, but…” She stopped abruptly, her face twisting into a grimace of hesitation and embarrassment. I looked up at her and offered a gentle smile. “It’s fine. Go ahead. But what?” Hearing this, Martha burst out angrily, “But Chloe was the one who answered his phone!” “She said we should wait until she and Mr. Sterling finished their date, and then they’d come over for dinner together.” “She is crossing the line! Ever since she came back, she’s been clinging to him 24/7. It’s been weeks since Mr. Sterling last came back to the estate to see you!” “A shameless home-wrecker acting like she owns the place.” As Martha kept venting, my face grew stiffer. Actually, I knew the truth. It wasn’t just Chloe clinging to him. They were clinging to each other. Because Carter had never truly let her go. Just as I was about to stand up and head back to my bedroom, the doorbell rang. I stopped Martha and went to open the door myself. The moment the door opened, Chloe practically shoved her way inside. She was holding a takeout box, and there were unmistakable, fresh hickeys on her neck. My hands clenched into tight fists as I stared at her. Chloe deliberately touched her neck, giving me a provocative smirk. “Blame Carter. He just wouldn’t let me leave. Otherwise, we would’ve been back for dinner ages ago!” “Sera, sweetie, have you eaten yet? I brought you some leftovers.” With that, she smoothly slipped into a pair of slippers and walked straight into the living room as if she owned the house. Ever since she returned to the country, she had visited the estate even more often than Carter. Every time, she either claimed Carter forgot some important files, or she was packing his overnight bag for a “business trip.” I didn’t understand why he would rather have someone who lived ten miles away pack his things instead of his own girlfriend. In fact, most of the time, I had to find out about Carter’s whereabouts from Chloe’s mouth. Shaking off my thoughts, I followed her into the living room. She glanced at the untouched dishes on the table and gasped in mock surprise. “Sera, you haven’t eaten yet? Don’t tell me you’ve been waiting for Carter this whole time!” “Oh, it’s all my fault. I’ll definitely give him a piece of my mind when we get back!” Before I could speak, Martha couldn’t hold back anymore. She sneered, “Who do you think you are? I’ve never seen a home-wrecker act so bold in front of the actual fiancée!” “If it weren’t for you, Mr. Sterling would have been home eating dinner with Miss Vance hours ago!” Chloe’s face fell instantly. She pointed at Martha and snapped, “Who are you calling a home-wrecker?!” “They’ve been together for seven years and aren’t even married. Don’t you ever wonder why?” “In a relationship, the one who isn’t loved is the real intruder. Got it?” My head throbbed. I interrupted them, unable to take it anymore. “Enough. Stop fighting.” I got it. I knew better than anyone else why Carter and I hadn’t married after seven years. But I was waiting. I was waiting for the day Carter had promised to make me his wife.

“Why is it so loud in here?” Carter was back. He casually took off his scarf, revealing red marks on his neck that were even more prominent and shameless than Chloe’s. I felt a sudden tightness in my chest, forcing me to take deep, gasping breaths. Chloe rushed to his side immediately, looking incredibly aggrieved. “Carter, I think Sera misunderstood something.” “They’re calling me a home-wrecker.” As soon as she finished speaking, tears began to stream down her face. She looked up at Carter with red, tearful eyes, pouting as if she had suffered the ultimate injustice. Carter gently wiped the tears from her face. As he did, a very clear bite mark on his hand caught my eye. My heart felt as though it were being violently ripped apart. After comforting her, Carter turned his cold gaze on me. His face darkened with intense annoyance. “Apologize to her,” he commanded coldly. I clenched my fists and shot back, “I didn’t do anything wrong. Why should I apologize?” “Besides, what did I ‘misunderstand’?” “Did I misunderstand the hickeys on your necks, or that bite mark on your hand?” Hearing this, Carter looked slightly guilty and quickly pulled up his collar. “That’s a separate issue. No matter what, you don’t talk to her like that.” “Don’t you know how much words like that can hurt someone?” I let out a bitter, mocking laugh. Words can hurt? Did their actions not hurt me at all? Why was I always the one who had to compromise? Seeing that I remained silent, Carter lost his patience. He grabbed my arm in a tight, painful grip and snarled, “Are you going to apologize or not?!” I stared back at him, my eyes welling with tears. “No!” Seeing the tension, Chloe quickly stepped in and pulled his arm away, acting like an angel. “Carter, let it go.” “I’m sure Sera didn’t mean it. It’s just that you haven’t been home lately and you’re always with me. It’s natural for her to overthink.” “Sera hasn’t eaten yet. Let’s sit down and eat together.” Only then did Carter let go of my arm. He sat down and sighed heavily. “Chloe, you’re always the reasonable one.” Chloe smiled and opened her takeout boxes, calling out to me, “Sera, come and eat!” I cast a brief glance at the dishes. Every single one of them contained ingredients I was severely allergic to. I couldn’t help but marvel at her dedication. She had actually managed to gather all my allergens in one meal. Seeing me stand there without moving, Chloe urged, “Sera, what’s wrong?” “Is the food not to your liking? Let me go heat up the dishes you made.” She started to stand up, but Carter grabbed her wrist and pulled her back down. “Don’t spoil her. She’s lucky to have food at all.” “Why should you heat up her food? She’s just being dramatic.” My heart felt completely dead. But those dishes on the stove… I had kept them warm, heating them up over and over again just for him. He had probably forgotten who used to have such a sensitive stomach that he couldn’t touch anything cold. Since then, I had always made sure a hot meal was waiting for him. But even when the food had turned to mush from being reheated so many times, he never came home. I forced myself to remain calm and said quietly, “I’m not hungry. I’m going to bed.” Carter slammed his hand on the table, instantly standing up. He swept the dishes off the table, sending them crashing to the floor, and roared, “I don’t give a shit if you eat or not!” “Starting today, I am never coming back here!” With that, he grabbed Chloe’s hand and stormed out. The moment the heavy front door slammed shut, my tears finally poured down. “Martha,” I choked out. Martha looked at me with deep concern. “Miss Vance, please don’t be too sad.” I wiped my tears away. “Seven years, Martha. How could I not be sad?” “But I regret it. I regret ever loving him.” The more I loved him, the more out of reach he became. Perhaps I should have realized this a long time ago.

Carter and I had been together for seven years. I still remembered when Chloe was about to move abroad years ago. Carter, who was the golden boy and a perfect student, skipped class for the very first time. He climbed over the school wall and ran toward the airport like a madman. In his desperate rush, he ignored a red light and was struck by a truck, flying two meters into the air. Fortunately, he survived. Unfortunately, he lost the use of both legs. When he dropped out of school to undergo treatment, I was the one who tirelessly stayed by his side, caring for him day in and day out. In the beginning, he was incredibly hostile. He threw things at me and screamed at me to get out. But I didn’t give up. Instead, I came even more frequently. Gradually, my devotion touched him. With red eyes, he told me, “Sera, let’s be together.” With my constant care, he finally dragged himself out of his darkest depression. One day, while cleaning the attic of our old estate, I accidentally found three candles. Just as I was about to throw them away, the mechanical voice sounded. “Light one candle to make one wish come true.” Thinking of Carter, who was bound to a wheelchair, I made a wish with a sliver of hope. I wished for him to walk again. And miraculously, his legs recovered completely. When he realized he could walk, he held me tightly in his arms, crying, “Sera, thank you!” “I promise I will treat you right for the rest of my life. Once my career is stable, we’ll get married!” I believed him. In that quiet hospital room, my joyful laughter felt like it could fill the world. To help him build his dream quickly, I lit the second candle. And just like that, his startup took off, turning him into a billionaire almost overnight. During the company’s launch celebration, he held my hand high and announced to his employees, “Meet your future boss-lady!” “I’m marrying her soon. When the day comes, everyone in this room gets a massive bonus!” Amidst the cheers of his employees, he kissed me for the first time. When we got home, he handed me the keys to the most luxurious villa in the city. With a bright smile, he told me that would be our future home. I was so happy I couldn’t sleep a wink that night. Yet, only five short months later, Chloe returned. And everything changed. All his past promises popped like fragile bubbles, vanishing without a trace. In the dead of night, Martha and I were picking up the shattered plates and ruined food from the floor. Martha kept glancing at me, looking hesitant, as if she had something to say but didn’t dare to. After a long silence, she finally spoke up. “Miss Vance, I went to Mr. Sterling’s office today to drop off his lunch.” I nodded, my voice flat. “Yes, I know.” She studied my face carefully before whispering, “Chloe was there, too.” My hand slipped, and a sharp piece of broken porcelain sliced into my finger. The sudden, stinging pain cleared my head a little. I pretended not to care. “That’s normal.” “She’s always bringing him ‘files.’ I’m used to it.” Martha frowned, her tone growing urgent. “No, it’s not just that.” “All the employees in the office are talking. They’re saying… they’re saying Chloe is the real future Mrs. Sterling!” I looked up at Martha, my gaze piercing. “So, do you think so too?” Realizing she had crossed a line, Martha quickly apologized. “No, no! I just have a big mouth. Please don’t be angry with me!” I waved my hand, feeling an overwhelming exhaustion wash over me. “It’s fine. It’s late. Go get some sleep.” Martha quickly grabbed the broom and scurried away. I went up to the attic alone. I curled myself into a tight ball on the floor, staring blankly until my tears soaked through my collar. I opened a drawer and looked at the single remaining candle. I thought to myself, Maybe it really is time to wake up.

The next morning, I woke up in the attic. After a quick shower and change of clothes, I headed out. Today was the exact date Carter had promised to marry me. When I arrived at his company, the lobby was buzzing with excitement. Chloe was handing out Starbucks drinks to the staff, earning herself non-stop praise. “You’re the best, Chloe! You always look out for us!” “Carter is so lucky to have a girl like you. I’m so jealous!” “When is the wedding? Don’t forget to send us invitations!” Chloe lowered her head, blushing prettily. Carter walked out of his office, wrapping an arm around her waist with a beaming smile. “Alright, guys, she’s shy. Stop teasing my girl.” Watching this scene from a distance, my heart ached with a dull, sour pain that made me want to cry. Suddenly, an employee noticed me. He tapped Carter’s shoulder and pointed in my direction, looking incredibly awkward. “Uh, Miss Vance is here.” Carter turned around, his brows instantly furrowing. “Did you finally realize you were wrong and come to apologize?” I shook my head, gathering every ounce of courage left in me. “Carter, do you remember what today is?” “Five months ago, you promised you would marry me today.” As soon as those words left my mouth, the entire lobby fell dead silent. In his arms, Chloe looked up with a hurt expression. “Carter… is that true?” Without a single shred of hesitation, Carter denied it. “No.” I clenched my fists so hard my nails dug into my skin, letting out a weak, hollow laugh. I had known coming here would only result in my own humiliation. Yet, a foolish part of me had still hoped. What if he remembered? What if he still loved me? But reality slapped me in the face once again. After what felt like an eternity, he finally spoke, his voice completely devoid of emotion. “I thought about it, and let’s just forget it. The one I actually want to marry is Chloe.” In an instant, the employees around us began throwing pitying looks at me. I lowered my head and let out a cold laugh. “And what if I don’t agree?” He raised an eyebrow, his eyes filled with disdain. “I’m notifying you, Sera. I’m not asking for your permission!” No matter how strong a heart is, it cannot withstand such public humiliation. I said nothing more. I turned around and walked out. Back in the attic of the estate, I resolutely took out the third candle and lit it. But the mechanical voice I expected didn’t sound. I froze, wondering what had gone wrong. Suddenly, a frantic set of footsteps rushed up the stairs. Martha fell to her knees before me, her eyes red and swollen. She was trembling violently. “Miss Vance, I’m sorry… I took the candle. I… I had to give it to him.” “Mr. Sterling said if I didn’t hand over the candle, he would fire me and make sure I never find another job in this city!” “You know how old I am. No one else will hire me, and I have a paralyzed son to support!” In that split second, it felt as if my entire world was collapsing. I began to shake uncontrollably. I grabbed her arms tightly, raising my voice. “Where is the candle now? Tell me!” Martha didn’t dare look me in the eye. She kept her head down, sobbing. “I don’t know. I gave it to Mr. Sterling. I don’t know what he did with it after that.” I collapsed onto the floor, staring at her in sheer disbelief. I was the one who had taken her in out of pity. When I found out about her paralyzed son, I paid her triple the market rate and even covered his medical expenses. I couldn’t understand why she didn’t even give me a chance to help her. She knew I was the one who had been supporting her, yet in the end, she still chose to betray me for Carter. “I am the one paying your salary, Martha!” I said, my voice cracking. “And you’re telling me you were afraid Carter would fire you?” “Even if he did, I could have easily kept paying you!” Martha gritted her teeth, her voice turning sharp. “But Mr. Sterling barely comes home anymore! Everyone knows he loves Chloe!” “Once Chloe officially moves in, you’ll be kicked out of this estate. Without Mr. Sterling, you won’t even be able to support yourself, let alone pay me!” Her words hit me like a physical blow. She had no idea that without me, Carter would never have achieved his current success. Indeed, the only reliable bond between people is mutual benefit. Some snakes can never be warmed. I stumbled to my feet, determined to find Carter and demand what was mine. But the moment I took my first step, my vision went black, and I collapsed. When I woke up, it was already the middle of the night. In the hospital room, Martha was clutching my hand, weeping uncontrollably. I sat up, trying to force a weak joke to ease the tension. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think I was dying.” But Martha merely handed me a medical report with trembling hands, her eyes rimmed with red. “Miss Vance… why didn’t you tell us you have cancer?”

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Labor Day weekend was coming up, and my boyfriend, Ethan, told me he was going back home to visit his parents. To make some extra money, I lied and told him I was staying in town to study, but instead, I took a gig as an on-the-spot pet sitter. My new client said she was going on her honeymoon. She offered a ridiculously generous pay, asking only that I take good care of her three cats. I was still self-congratulating over the massive paycheck when I unlocked her apartment door. But the moment I stepped inside, I froze. Hanging on her living room wall was a massive wedding photo of her and my boyfriend. Right then, my phone rang. It was Ethan, calling to tell me his parents wanted him to stay a few days longer. Staring at the giant wedding photo in front of me, I suddenly said, “Ethan, I want to get a cat.” Ethan sighed, his voice sounding helpless over the line. “Sweetheart, be reasonable. You know I’m severely allergic to cats, right? Don’t be childish. Just do this for me, okay?”

With a short beep, Ethan hung up the phone in a hurry. I stood there frozen, the phone still pressed to my ear. The giant wedding photo in front of me was so blindingly bright that it made my eyes water. The man in the photo, dressed in a sharp, tailored tuxedo, was smiling warmly as he held his bride. That face. The face that had kissed me goodnight every night for three years. The man who had promised to save up and build a home with me. It was Ethan, my boyfriend of three years. “Meow…” A fluffy Ragdoll cat rubbed against my ankle. It looked up at me with its crystal-blue eyes, purring softly to comfort me. My fingers trembled. Like a puppet with its strings cut, I mechanically filled the food bowls, changed the water, and cleaned the litter boxes for the three cats. Then, on autopilot, I took out my phone, filmed a quick video of them eating, and sent it to my new client. She replied almost instantly. [Thank you so much! They look so happy. You’re a lifesaver!] [I’ll trouble you for the next few days. When my husband and I get back from our honeymoon, we’ll bring you a souvenir!] Husband. Honeymoon. Those words stabbed straight into my chest like sharp needles. The pain was so intense that my knees buckled. I had to lean against the wall for a long time before I could stand straight again. I don’t even remember how I made it back to the apartment Ethan and I rented together. This cozy place, which we had decorated ourselves, with a photo wall of our anniversaries, now felt like a physical slap to my face. Just yesterday, Ethan had held me close, resting his chin on my head, his voice filled with gentle promise. “Baby, when I go back this time, I’m going to tell my parents about us. Let’s get them ready so our families can finally meet.” I had blushed and playfully tapped his chest. Looking back, it was a joke. I suddenly remembered that this client, Chloe, had found me on Twitter. With shaking hands, I opened the app and searched for her username. Her profile header was that exact wedding photo. But in her profile picture, it was just a solo shot of her, which was why I hadn’t noticed anything wrong initially. I clicked on her latest post. The title was: [We tied the knot!], with a gallery of nine photos. In one photo, she was taking a selfie in front of a full-length mirror. But in the reflection of that mirror, Ethan’s face was unmistakably clear. He was even flashing a peace sign at the camera, smiling brighter than the sun. Just then, a Snapchat notification popped up at the top of my screen. It was from Ethan. [Baby, I was busy just now and couldn’t ask. Why the sudden urge to get a cat?] I stared at the text. A few seconds later, another message came through. [I really am allergic, remember? When your neighbor’s cat came over last year, I broke out in hives just from holding it. But I know you love them. I just bought you a plush cat toy and shipped it to your place.] [Don’t be mad at me, okay?] The same gentle tone. The same thoughtful gestures. It was exactly how he had treated me for the last three years. If I hadn’t unlocked that apartment door, if I hadn’t seen that photo, I would probably be crying tears of gratitude right now, thinking I had the best boyfriend in the world.

In that single second, the tightly wound string in my head snapped. Countless details I had ignored came rushing back like a tidal wave. He would disappear randomly, claiming it was a last-minute business trip or a team-building weekend. His phone never left his side. He even took it into the shower, claiming he couldn’t miss an urgent work email. In three years of dating, he had never introduced me to his friends. His excuse was always that he was new to the city, and that colleagues couldn’t be trusted as real friends. Even his Snapchat was barren—just a few coworkers, local businesses, and delivery services. I had checked his phone once and genuinely believed he was just a rare, drama-free, decent guy. Tears fell without warning, splashing onto the cold screen. I curled up on the sofa and let out a choked sob. I remembered a rainy night three years ago. I was cornered by a drunk guy in an alley when Ethan appeared like a hero. He threw his jacket over my shoulders and dragged the guy to the police station. We started dating shortly after. He was incredibly attentive. He remembered my cycle, waited for me downstairs when I worked late, and kept track of every little thing I mentioned in passing. I thought I had found my soulmate. I never imagined that this tenderness was being shared with someone else at the same time. Suddenly, a sharp, horrific question pierced my mind. In Ethan’s double life… Who was the actual mistress? Chloe, or me? I didn’t sleep a wink that night. The next morning, Ethan FaceTime called me out of the blue. I stared at his familiar face on the screen and pressed accept. “Luna, what’s wrong? Why are your eyes so swollen?” The moment he saw me, he frowned, his voice full of worry. “Have you been crying? Did someone hurt you?” He immediately started typing on his laptop. “I’m ordering some soothing eye cream and ice packs to your place right now. Remember to use them…” I watched his act of concern, my heart turning completely to ice. “Ethan,” I interrupted him, my voice eerily calm. “Can you come back and see me right now?” The concern on his face stiffened, replaced by a flash of hesitation. “Baby, I… I just got home. My parents won’t let me leave so soon. I’m so sorry, it’s my fault,” he coaxed softly. “When I get back, I’ll make it up to you, okay?” While he was making his sweet promises, another notification popped up at the top of my screen. It was from Chloe. [Luna! Urgent! Have you checked the camera? It looks like Pudding is stuck in the gap of the balcony AC unit and can’t get out. Can you please go check on him? Please!] I stared at the text, then looked back at Ethan on the screen. His eyes darted to the side, as if listening to someone else in the room. Then he spoke quickly, “Baby, my mom is calling me. I gotta go!” He was rushing to hang up. But in the fraction of a second before the call cut off, I heard a sweet, feminine voice clearly in the background. “Honey, I just messaged the cat sitter. Do you think…” The screen went black. But my mind had never been clearer. Whether he had cheated on me from the very start or fell in love with someone else halfway through didn’t matter anymore. What mattered was that I was done with him.

The cold light of my phone screen reflected on my face. Chloe’s messages kept coming, and she was clearly panicking. I wondered if Ethan knew that the person house-sitting for his new wife was his own girlfriend. Without another thought, I grabbed my keys and ran out. The man was gone, but the money was still mine to make. Following Chloe’s panicked instructions over the phone, I had to lean half my body out over the balcony gap. Using a broom handle and a T-shirt as a makeshift net, I carefully scooped up the trembling Ragdoll cat. As soon as Pudding was safe, he buried his head under my chin, meowing softly. I snapped a photo and sent it to Chloe to let her know he was okay. The next second, she FaceTimed me. On screen was a gorgeous girl crying her eyes out. “Thank you so much! Thank you!” she sobbed, her eyes red. “If anything happened to Pudding, I don’t know what I would have done.” I held the cat, listening in silence. She kept crying, letting her emotions pour out to me. “Pudding was the first gift my husband gave me. He gave him to me when we first started dating.” “He said even though he’s severely allergic to cats, he’d do anything as long as it made me happy.” “So Pudding means everything to us. Thank God you were there today!” Chloe was a talker. Once she started, she couldn’t stop sharing how touched she was when her allergic husband had shown up holding a kitten. Every word of her sweet love story was a knife twisting in my heart. “No problem,” I cut her off. “The cat is fine. I have to go now.” I hung up, put Pudding back in his bed, checked all the windows, and left that apartment without looking back. Back at our rental, I dragged out three heavy-duty trash bags and started packing Ethan’s things. His shirts, his sneakers, every single thing he had bought since moving in. When I finished, I scheduled a courier service. I addressed the package to his parents’ house. Once, Ethan had asked me to mail some medicine to his parents, so I still had their address saved in my app. I used to think we would be family one day, so I never deleted it. Thank God I hadn’t. After the courier picked up the bags, I sent Ethan one last Snapchat message. [Ethan, let’s break up. I’ve mailed all your stuff to your parents’ house.] Send. Block. Delete. I did it all in one smooth motion. Staring at the half-empty apartment, I suddenly remembered when we first moved in a year ago. Ethan had hugged me from behind, resting his chin on my head. “Luna, this is our home now.” Having grown up with divorced parents who both abandoned me, my eyes had welled up. “Can I really have a home?” He kissed my forehead, promising solemnly, “Of course. I will cherish you forever and give you a real home.” What a joke. I opened Chloe’s Twitter profile and scrolled all the way back. I scrolled to a year ago, on the exact day Ethan had promised to “cherish me forever.” On that day, Chloe had posted a picture of her hand wearing a diamond ring. The caption read: [Engaged to my childhood sweetheart. Here’s to forever.] The “home” he had promised to build for me was built on another woman’s foundation from the very beginning. I remembered something else. Shortly after we started dating, I found a stray orange kitten downstairs. I brought it home, thrilled, but Ethan immediately started coughing and sneezing violently, his face covered in hives. He told me he had severe asthma and allergies and couldn’t be near cat hair. Terrified, I cried and gave the kitten to a friend that very night. After that day, he treated me even better, holding me and apologizing, saying he wished his body would let him raise a cat with me. I had been touched for a long time, thinking that even though his health didn’t allow it, his heart was in the right place. Now I finally understood. It wasn’t that he couldn’t make compromises. It was just that I wasn’t the one worth compromising for. For Chloe, he could endure his allergies and raise three cats. But for me, he couldn’t even tolerate the existence of one. His love had always been strictly categorized and prioritized.

After making my decision, I put my phone on airplane mode. I blocked Ethan’s number, Snapchat, and every other social media platform we shared. But before my mind could process the grief of this betrayal, my body gave out first. That night, I came down with a high fever. Dazed and shivering, I sent Chloe a quick message saying I was sick and couldn’t make it for a couple of days, then buried myself under the blankets. The world was spinning. I don’t know how long I slept, but I was eventually woken up by the smell of hot food. On my nightstand was a glass of warm water and some Advil. I dragged myself out of bed, holding onto the wall, and saw a familiar figure working in the kitchen. Ethan was wearing the apron I bought him, carefully stirring a pot of chicken soup. The steam blurred his face. For a second, I was dazed. I thought the last forty-eight hours had just been a terrible nightmare brought on by my fever. Hearing me, he turned around. His face immediately filled with panic, and he rushed over to me. “You’re awake! Is your head still spinning? Let me feel…” He reached out to touch my forehead. But all I could see was Chloe’s hand wearing that diamond ring. “Don’t touch me!” I pushed him away violently, as if his touch burned. Ethan stumbled back, his face filled with shock and hurt. He stood two steps away, looking at me cautiously, his voice soft as if afraid to startle me. “Luna, what is going on? What did I do wrong? Why did you suddenly dump me?” I had seen this helpless, pitiful look so many times. In the past, whenever we fought, he would make this exact face, and my heart would immediately soften. I would end up apologizing, thinking I was the one being unreasonable. But now, fighting the dizziness, I glared at him and finally asked the question: “Ethan, where exactly did you go for the Labor Day weekend?” He answered immediately, his voice carrying a soft, patronizing sigh. “I told you, I went home to see my parents.” Thinking I was just mad because he hadn’t introduced me to his family after three years, he softened his voice to explain: “I know, Luna. We’ve been together for three years and I haven’t brought you home yet. You have every right to be mad. But my parents… they fight constantly. I didn’t want you to walk into a circus on your first visit. I wanted to fix things first so I could bring you home properly.” He sounded so sincere. So sincere that for a split second, I wondered if the man marrying Chloe was just an identical twin. I took a deep breath, about to speak. Then, the doorbell rang. Ethan looked relieved and quickly ran to answer it. Looking at the corner of the room, I thought about Chloe’s sweet messages on Snapchat, bragging about how Ethan not only picked out a cat for her but even bathed the other two. He was capable. He just didn’t want to do it for me. All my resentment, anger, and heartbreak suddenly vanished in that moment. Only a cold, dead silence remained. Ethan walked back in, holding a package. He opened it, revealing the plush cat toy he had mentioned. He looked at me with a bright smile, clearly waiting for me to be touched and thank him. I slowly curled my lips into a cold smile. My reaction left him completely bewildered. I looked past the toy in his hands and spoke in a flat voice. “Ethan.” “They say liars have to swallow ten thousand needles. When is it your turn?”

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After Teacher Appreciation Week, my first-grade daughter came home and broke my heart. “Mom, I don’t want to go to school anymore.” I thought she was just having trouble adjusting to elementary school, so I gently tried to comfort her. That was until I saw a notification on the PTA WhatsApp group tagging everyone. [A huge thank you to all the parents for your generosity during Teacher Appreciation Week! A special shout-out to our PTA committee moms—Audrey, Brenda, Claire, and Diana—for their hard work in organizing the $1,000 appreciation gift fund. The teachers received the love, and we know that children raised with gratitude will always have a bright future!] It was only then that I realized why my daughter had been so quiet. Later, when the teacher posted pictures of the class play on the group chat, my blood ran cold. I couldn’t sit still anymore. The “mandatory donation” I had refused to pay had turned into a knife used to torture my little girl. 1 It had been three days since Teacher Appreciation Week ended. My anxiety about “skipping” the gift donation had slowly begun to fade. I hadn’t prepared any expensive gifts for her homeroom teacher, Mrs. Gable, and I had directly refused the $1,000 “gift fund” organized by the PTA President, Audrey. I firmly believed that a healthy school environment shouldn’t be built on bribery. During dinner, Lily poked at the rice in her bowl, her little head hanging low. “Mom, I don’t want to go to school tomorrow.” I set my fork down and asked softly, “What’s wrong, sweetie? There’s a class activity tomorrow. How about Mommy picks you up early?” Lily looked at me with her big, watery eyes. After a long silence, she finally nodded. The next morning, after a lot of coaxing, I managed to drop Lily off at her classroom. Watching her small back disappear through the door, the unease in my chest grew. I walked up to Mrs. Gable, keeping my voice as polite as possible. “Mrs. Gable, Lily has been a bit emotional lately and seems resistant to coming to school. Could you please keep an eye on her? Let me know if anything happens. Thank you so much.” Mrs. Gable wore a fake, plastic smile, her eyes darting away from me. “Lily’s mom, it’s completely normal for kids to struggle during the first few weeks. You need to do more guiding at home.” With that, she turned and walked away. Back at the office, I couldn’t focus. It was past 1:00 PM by the time I finally finished my urgent tasks. I immediately picked up my phone. The school WhatsApp group was flooded with over 99+ unread messages. Suppressing my anxiety, I scrolled back to the very first unread text. It was Mrs. Gable tagging everyone. [A huge thank you to all the parents for your generosity during Teacher Appreciation Week! A special shout-out to our PTA committee moms—Audrey, Brenda, Claire, and Diana—for their hard work in organizing the $1,000 appreciation gift fund. The teachers received the love, and we know that children raised with gratitude will always have a bright future!] Below it was a long thread of parents kissing up to her, typing things like “Thank you, teachers!” and “You deserve the best!” Then came the videos and photos of this morning’s class play. The children were wearing sparkling costumes with beautiful makeup, their faces lit up with bright smiles. I frantically searched for Lily in the crowd. The first video—no Lily. The second video—still no Lily. The third video showed the kids eating lunch in the classroom after the performance. The camera panned across the desks. Suddenly, my heart dropped. Lily’s desk was empty. The camera kept moving. In the next second, a scene at the edge of the frame made my blood freeze. Lily, with no makeup, her hair completely messy, was being violently and quickly dragged out of the classroom by an adult. A cold, paralyzing terror washed over me. My hands shook so hard I could barely hold my phone. Without a second thought, I grabbed my car keys and ran out of the office, racing toward the school. 2 Grade 1, Class B. The classroom was completely empty. I immediately spotted Lily’s desk. Her once neat and clean desk was now covered in ugly, colorful marker scribbles: “We hate you,” “Bad girl,” and “Stupid.” I pulled open her desk drawer. It was stuffed with crumpled waste paper, half-eaten apple cores, and dirty trash. Rage and heartbreak consumed me. I spun around and ran toward the nap room next door. The nap room was quiet, and the children were fast asleep in their small cots. I frantically searched row by row. But my Lily wasn’t there. “Excuse me, what do you think you’re doing? Please leave. You are disturbing the children,” the supervising teacher whispered harshly, stepping in to block me. “Where is my daughter? Where is Lily Sterling? Why is her cot empty?” I grabbed her arm, my voice sharp with panic. The teacher’s eyes darted around guiltily as she tried to shake me off. “Maybe she went to the restroom. You need to wait outside.” “Lily! Lily! Mommy’s here! Where are you?” I screamed, completely ignoring her. My voice echoed loudly in the quiet nap room. Several children woke up, looking around in confusion. My shouting attracted teachers from other classrooms, who began whispering and peeking through the doorway. Just then, Mrs. Gable walked out of a storage room at the end of the hallway. “Lily’s mom, what is wrong with you? Screaming like a lunatic in a school? If you don’t calm down, I’m calling security.” I rushed up to Mrs. Gable, my eyes bloodshot. “My daughter is missing! Mrs. Gable, I asked you this morning to keep an eye on her! Where is she?” Panic flashed across Mrs. Gable’s face, but it was quickly replaced by disgust and annoyance. “Lily’s mom, calm down. The girl probably just snuck off to play. Making a scene like this is embarrassing. Think about the school’s reputation.” “Embarrassing? My daughter is missing, and all you care about is the school’s reputation?” I was shaking with rage. “Lily never wanders off. Did you do something to her?!” “How dare you accuse me!” Mrs. Gable shrieked. The other teachers joined in, trying to shut me down. “Ma’am, please calm down. A child wouldn’t just vanish.” “Yeah, don’t overreact. Let security handle it.” “Yelling won’t solve anything.” Furious and terrified, I ignored them. I ran down the hallway, screaming at the top of my lungs. “Lily! Mommy’s here! Lily!” As I ran, I dialed 91

But when I reached the door of the storage room Mrs. Gable had just walked out of, her face turned pale. She dashed forward, trying to block the door. “That’s just a utility closet! You can’t go in there!” All the bottled-up terror and anger exploded. I violently shoved her aside. “Get out of my way!” I slammed the door open. The scene inside printed itself into my mind forever. My Lily… Her tiny body was kneeling on the freezing concrete floor. Her hair was a tangled mess, her face covered in tears and dirt. And her mouth was sealed shut with a thick strip of heavy-duty yellow duct tape. She was whimpering softly, her body shivering with terror. The moment she saw me, her big eyes lit up. She struggled to throw herself into my arms, but her small shoulders were pinned down by four women. Audrey, Brenda, Claire, and Diana. The PTA moms. They looked shocked to see me, but their expressions quickly morphed into pure sneer and arrogance. 3 “Lily!” I screamed, my heart tearing to pieces. Like a wild animal, I lunged forward to grab my daughter. But Claire and Brenda, who were closest to the door, grabbed my arms and pinned me back. “Are you all insane?! What do you think you’re doing to my daughter? Release her!” I thrashed wildly, glaring at them with murderous rage. Audrey, the PTA President, slowly walked up to me with a cold smirk. “Lily’s mom, this is an elite school. Your screaming is going to frighten the other children.” “Frighten the other children? Look at what you did to my daughter! She’s only six years old!” My heart shattered as I watched Lily sob silently behind the tape. Audrey let out a cruel laugh. “We’re just helping you discipline her. Today, all the children cooperated, put on their costumes, and got their makeup done. But your daughter refused to participate. She has zero school spirit. If you don’t teach her, we will.” Brenda piped up from the side, her voice dripping with venom. “Exactly. One bad apple spoils the bunch. If she’s this selfish at six, she’ll grow up to be a menace.” Claire squeezed my arm harder, sneering, “Like mother, like daughter. The mom is a cheapskate who didn’t contribute a single dime to the Teacher Appreciation fund. No wonder the daughter is a selfish, ungrateful little brat.” Diana rolled her eyes. “Honestly, I don’t even know how a family like yours got admitted into Oakridge Prep.” Looking at my trembling, terrified daughter, my last thread of sanity snapped. “You sick monsters, let go of my daughter!” I leaned down and bit Claire’s arm as hard as I could. “Ahhh!” Claire let out a blood-curdling shriek and instinctively let go. Using the distraction, I ripped my other arm away from Brenda and threw myself forward like a mother lion protecting her cub. I shoved the women away, scooped Lily into my arms, and gently peeled the duct tape off her mouth with trembling fingers. “Mommy! Mommy!” The moment the tape was off, Lily burst into hysterical sobs. Her tiny body shook violently in my arms as she wrapped her hands tightly around my neck. “Mommy, I’m scared! I want to go home!” “Shh, baby, don’t cry. Mommy’s here. Mommy’s taking you home,” I choked out, my own tears falling onto her cheeks. I looked up, staring down the vile women and Mrs. Gable with pure hatred. “You’re going to pay for this. I’m calling the police. I will make sure every single one of you goes to prison.” At the word “police,” Mrs. Gable’s face went white, and she avoided my eyes. But Audrey laughed as if I had just told the funniest joke in the world. She blocked my path, her face filled with arrogant amusement. “The police? How cute. Do you honestly think the police can touch us? Look at you, wearing cheap clothes from a clearance rack. You couldn’t even afford the $1,000 class donation, and now you’re threatening us? Do you even know who I am?” Brenda immediately bragged, “Audrey’s family is the biggest shareholder of Oakridge Prep! Everyone who is anyone in this city has to bow to her. Call the cops. Let’s see who they drag away first.” Claire rubbed her bitten arm, glaring at me. “I’ve never once seen your husband show up since school started. You’re probably some gold-digging single mom, or maybe she’s just a bastard child from some dirty affair.” Diana let out an exaggerated laugh. Lily seemed to understand the insults. She cried harder, squeezing me even tighter. Seeing this, Audrey’s smirk widened. “A broke single mother? Or a dirty side chick? How pathetic. You think someone of your low status is worthy of shouting at me?” 4 Feeling my daughter shaking in my arms, and listening to their disgusting insults, my fear turned into a cold, calculating calm. I looked directly into Audrey’s greedy eyes. “Who told you I’m a single mother? I already called my husband before coming here. If you step aside and apologize to my daughter right now, I might show some mercy.” “Apologize? To you?” The women burst into mocking laughter. Audrey sneered, “Your husband? Please. There is no one in this city who can scare me.” I took a deep breath, holding Lily closer. “My husband is Julian Vance. The Managing Director of Sterling Enterprises.” The moment I said the name, their laughter died. Audrey froze. Then, she raised an eyebrow and stared at me with a twisted, amused expression. “Julian Vance… is your husband?” I scoffed and pulled out my phone, showing her my lock screen. It was a family photo of me, Julian, and Lily. “Since you claim to know everyone in high society, you must recognize him. Do you need to double-check?” Audrey stared at the photo, and then she burst into hysterical laughter. She laughed so hard she had to hold her stomach, staring at me like I was a madwoman. “So, Lily’s mother… your name is Vivian Sterling?” My heart clenched. I had only registered as “Lily’s Mom” on the WhatsApp group. None of them should have known my real name. “How do you know my name?” Audrey slowly stopped laughing, crossing her arms as she looked me up and down. “Viv… i… an… Ster… ling.” “Audrey, this is hilarious! This woman is completely delusional!” The other moms, who had been briefly tense, laughed even harder now, looking at me like I was a clown. Diana pointed at me, tears of laughter in her eyes. “She claims to be Mr. Vance’s wife? Oh my god, I can’t breathe!” I frowned, highly confused by their reactions. Claire finally stopped laughing, shaking her head. “Do you have any idea who Audrey is? She is the real Mrs. Vance! You brought a photoshopped picture to claim you’re married to Julian? Are you mentally ill?” Mrs. Gable stepped forward to lecture me. “Lily’s mom, lying like this is disgusting. Your daughter is going to copy your pathetic behavior. No wonder she’s an outcast. No one wants to be friends with a liar’s child.” I stared at them in utter shock. Julian was my husband. Even though he had always begged me to keep our marriage private to “protect his career,” we were legally married. I looked at their ugly, mocking faces, engraving each one into my memory. “You have unlawfully confined and abused a child. The Sterling family will destroy you.” Audrey kept her smug, taunting smile. “Vivian, you are so incredibly stupid. Why don’t you guess how I knew your name?” I held my daughter tight, my mind racing with questions, but I chose to keep my mouth shut. Suddenly, hurried footsteps echoed from the hallway. “Mr. Vance, this way! They are in here!” In the next second, the door was slammed open. “What is going on here?”

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On graduation night, Chloe Henderson posted a flyer for an 18+ party in our class group chat on Snapchat. “We’re finally adults. Who’s still trying to play the good little kid?” “Let’s celebrate graduation tonight. Drinks, games, and a taste of the real adult world.” In my past life, I tried my best to stop this party. I contacted the school counselor, notified parents, and even rushed to the entrance of the venue to block everyone. The party was eventually canceled. Chloe didn’t get her promoter fee. She became the laughingstock of the entire grade and ended up jumping off a building. But everyone said I was the one who killed her. They got me drunk, dragged me to the rooftop, and forced me to kneel before her memorial photo to apologize. Then, they pushed me off the edge. When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the exact moment she posted that flyer on Snapchat. She tagged me directly in the chat: “Sienna Crawford, you’re not going to ruin the fun again, are you?” I looked at her Venmo link, the penthouse suite address, the premium adult livestream preview, and the two underage names on the RSVP list. I smiled. This time, I didn’t say a single word of warning. Do whatever you want. Just don’t drag me down with you. I simply took screenshots, screen-recorded, and saved all the evidence. Then, I turned around and dialed the police. “Hi, I’d like to report an illegal party involving underage drinking and sketchy live-streaming.” 1 The class group chat on Snapchat blew up. After Chloe posted the flyer, the messages scrolled up like crazy. “Oh my god, a graduation party? Exciting.” “This is how you celebrate graduation. Who wants to go to some boring karaoke bar?” “Is the whole class going? That is going to be wild.” “Chloe is amazing. How did you even book a place like this?” The flyer was designed to look highly suggestive. Black background with bold red letters. At the top, it read: “Don’t waste your first night as an adult.” Below that were photos of the penthouse suite, dim lighting, towers of alcohol, and a few blurred screenshots of a live-stream. I stared at my phone screen, my fingertips turning cold. I knew this flyer all too well. In my past life, Chloe had used this exact image to drag our entire class into that sketchy graduation party. I was the class Valedictorian back then. I begged her to delete the flyer, went to the school counselor, and called the parents. I forced the party to shut down. Because of that, Chloe lost her promoter fee. She was mocked by everyone and eventually took her own life. And I was lured to the rooftop by them, forced to kneel before her picture. Logan Carter’s eyes had been bloodshot as he yelled, “Sienna, why couldn’t you just let her be happy for once?” And then, he pushed me off. Now, I was back at the moment Chloe posted the flyer. Chloe sent a voice note to the group. Her voice was sickeningly sweet: “Come on, guys, don’t chicken out.” “We’ve worked so hard for this. We’re finally adults. We should at least see what the real adult world looks like, right?” “It’s not anything bad. It’s just making a memory for our youth.” Immediately, someone chimed in. “Chloe is right.” “Imagine being an adult and still letting your parents ground you. Embarrassing.” “Anyone who doesn’t show up tonight is a coward.” Watching their excitement, I felt incredibly calm. In this life, I wouldn’t stop them. But they were not going to put my name on that list either. I typed in the group: “I’m not going.” “Please remove my name from the list.” After I sent the message, the group chat fell silent for two seconds. Then, Chloe tagged me. “Sienna, you’re not going to be a buzzkill again, are you?” “It’s our last class event. If you don’t come, it’s going to be so awkward for everyone.” Logan jumped in right after. “Sienna, can you stop acting like you’re better than everyone else?” “Do you have any idea how much effort Chloe put into booking this place for us? What do you mean you’re not going?” I stared coldly at the screen. “I said, I’m not going.” “And I don’t authorize anyone to use my name for RSVPs, promotion, or collecting money.” The group chat exploded. “She really thinks she’s some VIP.” “Who even wants you there?” “Better if she doesn’t come. Otherwise, she’d probably call the cops on us at the venue.” Chloe posted a sad face emoji. “Guys, don’t talk about Sienna like that.” “She’s just a bit conservative.” “But the guest list has already been submitted. Changing it now is going to be a huge pain.” I looked at that sentence and smirked. In my past life, this was exactly how I got dragged into the mud. The guest list is already submitted. The deposit is paid. The photos are already used. The promo flyer is already out. They tied me to their ship step by step, and then cursed at me for not wanting to drown with them. This time, I replied directly. “I don’t care how much of a pain it is. Change it.” “Otherwise, I will take legal action.” Chloe stopped replying in the group chat. Instead, she sent me a direct message. “Sienna, do you have to do this?” “Everyone just wants to relax. You’re really ruining the vibe.” I didn’t reply. I opened the flyer she sent, screenshot. Opened the payment code, screenshot. Opened the RSVP list, screenshot. Then, I screen-recorded the entire group chat and saved it. This time, I wouldn’t waste my breath running to them to play the savior. I would let their own actions destroy them. 2 Chloe had always been good at manipulating people. Her talent wasn’t playing the victim; it was wrapping her own selfish greed in the blanket of “everyone’s freedom.” She posted another long message in the group chat. “I know some people might think this kind of party is sketchy.” “But we’ve graduated, and most of us are eighteen.” “This is our first time making our own decisions. Are we really going to live under other people’s judgment?” “I’m not doing this for myself. I just want us all to remember this night.” With just a few words, she turned herself into a saint fighting for the class’s freedom. Someone immediately followed up: “Chloe, don’t worry about her.” “She’s been like this since freshman year, trying to control everything.” “Sienna, if you don’t want to go, fine. But don’t ruin it for the rest of us.” Logan called me directly. I picked up and turned on the call recorder. “Sienna, what the hell is your problem?” His voice was aggressive. “You weren’t like this before.” I asked calmly, “How was I before?” “You used to look out for everyone.” “Now I’m looking out for myself.” Logan choked on his words. After a few seconds, he lowered his voice. “Chloe is going through a lot.” “Her parents are super strict. Now that she’s finally graduated, she just wants to have fun with everyone.” “Can you stop targeting her?” I laughed. “How am I targeting her?” “I just said I’m not going.” “Not going is disrespectful to her.” “Then her respect is way too expensive.” Logan lost his patience. “Sienna, can you stop being so sarcastic?” “The whole class is going except you. Do you think that’s right?” I asked him, “Two of our classmates on that list aren’t eighteen yet. Did you know that?” The other end of the line went silent for a moment. Logan quickly dismissed it. “It’s only a few months’ difference.” “Besides, it’s not like we’re doing anything illegal.” “Then why does it have to be an 18+ party?” “Why are there suggestive games?” “Why is there a live-stream room linked to it?” Logan’s voice grew even more annoyed. “Can you stop thinking everything is so dirty?” “It’s just games.” “Chloe said there will be ‘party promoters’ and some top donors from the stream will send gifts. It’s just to make it more hyped.” Because I didn’t immediately argue with him, he kept talking and revealed more. I asked softly, “Why would random donors send us gifts?” Logan took it for granted. “To watch young people having fun.” “They have money to burn.” “And what happens after they send gifts?” “Why do you care so much?” I looked at the recording waves on my screen. “Logan, are you absolutely sure nothing will go wrong tonight?” He said, “I’m sure.” “If anything happens, I’ll take full responsibility.” I said, “Fine. Remember what you just said.” After hanging up, I backed up the recording. Chloe posted a new update in the group chat. “Eight o’clock tonight, Azure Heights Penthouse.” “It’s $100 per person. That covers the suite, drinks, game props, and the entry pass for the live-stream.” “Bring your IDs. They will check them at the door to make sure we’re of age.” I stared at the word “IDs.” Someone asked: “What if we’re underage?” Chloe replied quickly. “Don’t ask that in the group.” “I’ll handle it once we get there.” She added a winking emoji. I took a screenshot. A second later, she unsent the message. Too bad. It was too late. I sent her a DM: “Remove me from the list.” “Also, the underage kids shouldn’t go.” She replied instantly. “Sienna, did you screen-record our chat?” “What are you so nervous about?” Finally, she sent. “I just want everyone to have fun.” I didn’t reply. Someone who genuinely wanted everyone to have fun wouldn’t drag underage classmates to a place like that. And she definitely wouldn’t put my picture on her promo flyer after I rejected her. I clicked on her Instagram post. The caption read: “Graduated! The whole class is entering the adult world tonight.” In the photo collage, my school portrait was placed in the corner. Underneath, it said. “Even our straight-A Valedictorian is coming.” The comment section was already getting weird. “The quiet ones are always the wildest.” “Can’t wait to see her.” “Where’s the stream link?” I stared at those comments, my fists clenching. In my past life, I died because of them, and I even blamed myself for being a busybody. Now I finally understood. Some people aren’t blind to boundaries. They just think that as long as everyone is dragged down with them, no one can point fingers. I saved the post, the comments, and the payment QR code. Then, I called the police tip line. “Hi, I want to report something.” “Someone is organizing a high school graduation party that involves underage drinking and sketchy live-streaming.” “There will be minors there, and there’s a risk of non-consensual filming and streaming.” “I have the group chat logs, payment codes, address, and promo flyers.” The officer on the phone instantly grew serious. “Do not go to the location yourself, and do not confront them.” “Send all your evidence to this email.” I said, “Will do.” After hanging up, I organized all the evidence into a folder. Sent. 3 At 6:00 PM, Chloe started pushing for the payments. The RSVP list was updating rapidly in the group chat. “Chloe Henderson – Paid” “Logan Carter – Paid” “Justin Miller – Paid” … Finally, the list stopped at thirty-one. There were thirty-two people in our class. I was the only one left. Chloe tagged me. “Sienna, everyone has paid. We’re just waiting on you.” I replied. “I’m not going.” She sent a crying emoji. “But I already booked the place based on the full class head count.” “If you don’t come, I have to pay for your share out of my own pocket.” Logan immediately jumped in. “Sienna, you’re being ridiculous.” “Chloe paid so much money in advance. You can’t just back out like this.” “If you don’t want to come, fine, but you still have to pay your share.” Others joined the dogpile. “Yeah, Chloe shouldn’t have to lose money.” “It’s just $100. Her family can easily afford that.” “Don’t be so cheap, Valedictorian.” I directly posted the screenshot of Chloe saying “the guest list has already been submitted” into the group chat. “I made it clear from the very beginning that I wasn’t going.” “You chose not to remove my name. That loss is on you.” “Furthermore, I did not authorize you to use my photo or name for promotion.” “Please delete it immediately.” The chat went dead silent. It took Chloe half a minute to reply. “I was just joking. Why are you being so dramatic?” I replied: “My photo is on a public platform.” “Strangers are making vulgar comments about me in the section below.” “This is not a joke.” Logan called me again. I ignored it. He sent a voice note instead. “Sienna, stop playing the victim.” “What did Chloe ever do to you?” “If you don’t want to come, fine, but why do you have to embarrass her in front of everyone?” “Let me tell you something. I’m coming to pick you up myself tonight.” “If you won’t walk, I’ll literally drag you there.” Once that voice note was sent, some classmates started laughing in the chat. “Logan is wild.” “That’s how you handle her.” “She’s just talking big. Once she gets to the party, she’ll have fun like the rest of us.” I didn’t reply. I saved the voice note and forwarded it to the officer who had contacted me. The officer replied. “If anyone tries to force you out of your house, call 911 immediately.” “We are dispatching units to your area just in case.” I texted back: “Thank you.” At 7:20 PM, my parents were still working late. I was home alone. Suddenly, the doorbell rang. I looked through the peephole. Logan was standing at the door. Two other boys from our class were with him. They were holding a gift bag, smirking. Logan knocked on the door. “Sienna, I know you’re in there.” “Open up.” I remained quiet. He knocked harder, his voice growing impatient. “Stop hiding.” “The whole class is waiting for you. Don’t you feel bad?” I took out my phone and started video recording. Through the door, I asked, “What are you doing here?” “To pick you up.” “I said I’m not going.” “Too bad.” Logan’s tone was mocking. “You’re the Valedictorian. The graduation party isn’t complete without you.” The boy next to him laughed. “You don’t even have to change. We have people at the party who can do your makeup.” I asked coldly, “Who sent you?” Logan said, “Chloe is doing this for your own good.” “She said you’re just shy.” “Once you get there and the vibe is right, you’ll probably wild out more than any of us.” “Logan, you said in the group chat that you’d drag me there. Is that still your plan?” It went quiet outside the door for a second. He seemed to realize I might be recording. “Don’t twist my words.” “I was obviously joking.” “Then leave now.” “Sienna.” He lowered his voice. “Don’t push your luck.” “Chloe’s stream is already getting hyped up. If you don’t show, the big donors are going to charge back their gifts.” “Do you have any idea how much money she’ll have to refund?” So, Chloe had already sold us out as entertainment for her stream. I asked, “So if I don’t go, she loses money?” Logan stayed silent. I kept asking. “Who is she taking money from?” “Who are these ‘donors’?” “And why is my photo on the flyer?” Logan snapped, frustrated. “Sienna, are you done?” “It’s just a photo.” “People wanted to see the smart girl. What’s the big deal?” I recorded every single word. Then, I dialed 911. “Hi, there are people blocking my door, threatening to force me to an illegal party.” “I have audio and video recordings of the threat.” Outside, Logan’s face instantly paled. “Sienna, you actually called the cops?” I stared at him through the door. “Yes.” “Didn’t you say you’d take full responsibility?” “Let’s see if you can handle this first.” 4 Logan ran fast. By the time the police arrived, the hallway was empty. But I handed over the complete video and audio recordings. After watching it, the officer’s expression turned grim. “Do not leave your house tonight.” “We have dispatched units to the address you provided.” I nodded. “Thank you.” The officer asked again, “Are you absolutely sure there are minors at this party?” “Yes.” I showed him screenshots of the birthdates of the two underage classmates from our class directory. “Both of them don’t turn eighteen until next month.” The officer frowned. “This is no longer just a simple noise complaint.” I stayed silent. A normal party wouldn’t use my photo for hype. They wouldn’t say “I’ll handle the underage issue.” And they certainly wouldn’t have paying donors demanding to see the “Valedictorian.” At 8:00 PM, Chloe went live. I didn’t click the link. But a classmate shared it in our Snapchat group. “It’s live! It’s live!” “Chloe looks stunning tonight.” “Is the Valedictorian there yet?” Someone tagged me. “Sienna, did you really chicken out?” “Relax, we’re not going to bite.” “LOL, is she at home calling the cops or something?” On the stream, Chloe smiled at the camera and said: “Our Valedictorian is a bit shy, guys. Give her some time.” “She’ll be here.” The live chat was scrolling fast. “When is the hot nerd showing up?” “The top donor is literally only here for her.” “Graduation night is boring without the smart girl.” I closed the link and put my phone face down on the table. In my past life, this was the exact time I had rushed to Azure Heights. I thought I was saving them. But they treated me like a villain who ruined their night. In this life, I would not step foot near that place. I just sat quietly in my room, waiting for the trap to spring. At 8:27 PM, someone posted a short video in the group chat. In the video, the penthouse lights were dim and red. Chloe was standing on a barstool, raising her glass. “Welcome, class of 2024, to the real adult world!” The crowd cheered. She looked radiant and proud. “Tonight, no rules!” “Don’t be scared, don’t hold back.” “From this moment on, we are no longer kids!” The video cut off there. A second later, the group chat went dead silent. For three whole minutes, not a single message was sent. I took a sip of my water. Then, my phone vibrated. It was an unknown number. As soon as I picked up, Chloe’s hysterical crying pierced my ear. “Sienna Crawford!” “Was it you? Did you call the cops on us?” I didn’t deny it. “Yes.” She screamed like a maniac. “How could you?” “We were just having a party!” “You ruined my life!” I asked calmly, “Are the police there?” The background of the call was absolute chaos. Someone was shouting: “Everyone put your phones down!” “Turn off the stream!” “IDs out!” And an officer’s cold voice cut through the noise: “Who is the organizer here?” Chloe’s voice cracked from crying. “Sienna, are you happy now?” I said, “Not yet.” “I’ll be happy when you completely delete my photos and name from your accounts.” The phone was snatched away from her. Soon, the line went dead. I stared at the black screen and finally let out a soft laugh. Selling classmates’ photos to live-streams, bringing minors into shady venues, and betting everyone’s future on a promoter contract. Whose “fun” was this anyway?

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