Author: Momo Chan

1 After we got engaged, the six of us booked one last trip together before the wedding. On our second night at the resort, my best friend, Vivian, came up with an idea over drinks: a “24-Hour Partner Swap.” The rules were simple. Everyone would draw a card from a mystery box, and whoever pulled matching symbols had to spend the next twenty-four hours acting like a real couple. And whoever drew a blank card? They were the designated odd one out—responsible for taking photos, carrying luggage, and staying out of the way. In the first round, I pulled a blank card. My fiancé, Ethan, and Vivian both pulled matching crescents. They held hands as they walked down to the shoreline to watch the sunrise, while I lagged ten paces behind them, my shoulders aching under the weight of three heavy backpacks. In the second round, I drew a blank card again. Ethan and Vivian pulled matching roses. The penalty for drawing the rose was a one-minute hug. The rest of the group gathered in a circle, whistling and cheering, while I stood on the periphery, watching the timer tick down on my phone. The third round. The fourth round… Seven rounds in a row. Every single time, I was the extra piece that didn’t fit. By the fifth round, Vivian was resting her head against Ethan’s chest, looking at me with wide, apologetic eyes. “Tess, it’s just a stupid game. You’re not actually getting jealous, are you?” Ethan reached over and lightly ruffled her hair, a gentle, familiar gesture that made my stomach knot. “Don’t bother with her, Viv. She’s always been terrible at taking a joke.” On our final night, they pulled matching wedding cards. The rule for the wedding card was absolute: the pair had to hold a mock wedding ceremony right then and there. Vivian slid into the ivory slip dress I had packed for our engagement photos. Then Ethan reached out, unclasped my hand, and gently pulled my engagement ring off my finger. Before I could process what he was doing, he slid it onto Vivian’s left ring finger. Everyone crowded around them, laughing and chanting in unison: “Kiss her! Kiss her! Kiss her!” A second later, Ethan bent down, cupped the side of her neck, and pressed his lips firmly against hers. While everyone was cheering and taking videos, I walked quietly over to the side table and opened the mystery box containing the remaining cards. I opened the compartment assigned to me. Every single card left in my tray was blank. Then I opened the compartments assigned to Ethan and Vivian. They were stuffed with identical crescents, identical roses, and identical wedding symbols. It hadn’t been bad luck. The entire game had been constructed, from the very beginning, entirely for the two of them. I stood there in the warm evening air and let out a soft, silent laugh. Then I pulled out my phone, navigated to our wedding website, and clicked the button that permanently deleted all the digital invitations I had spent three months designing. If a six-person trip couldn’t make room for me, then I didn’t need to reserve a place for them in the rest of my life. When the digital invitations disappeared from my screen, a fresh burst of laughter erupted behind me. Ethan finally released Vivian’s waist. Vivian’s cheeks were flushed pink, but her hands lingered on his shoulders, her fingers lightly curled into his linen shirt. Derek, standing near the balcony rail with a beer in his hand, hollered out, “One more time! Do it again!” Ethan let out a low laugh and nudged him with his elbow. “Fuck off, Derek.” Yet he didn’t push Vivian away. He kept his arm loosely resting behind her back, as if her weight against him was the most natural thing in the world. It wasn’t until Vivian looked up and caught my eye that she seemed to remember I was standing there. She lowered her head, looking down at her left hand, and twisted the ring back and forth. “Tess, I think the ring is stuck,” she said, her voice dripping with soft innocence. “My fingers must be swollen from the humidity. Mind if I just wear it for the night?” That engagement ring was something Ethan had given me on my twenty-fifth birthday. He had made a huge point of telling me that he had spent weeks having it custom-sized to fit my exact finger circumference. Yet sitting on Vivian’s hand, it slid comfortably down to the base of her knuckle. It fit her perfectly. I didn’t call her out. I didn’t raise my voice. I simply gave a small nod. “Sure.” Ethan shifted his gaze toward me, his brow furrowing slightly, as if surprised by how effortlessly I had conceded. “Tess, drop the tragic act,” he said, a note of sharp annoyance creeping into his tone. “Everyone took time off work to come out here and celebrate with us. Don’t ruin the mood over a party game.” I looked at him, my eyes clear. “I’m not ruining the mood.” “Then smile,” he commanded softly. Derek was already holding up his phone, waving us down. “Alright, temporary bride and groom, look at the camera!” Tyler and the rest of the crew quickly pushed into the frame, sandwiching Ethan and Vivian in the middle. The five of them stood in a neat, perfect row, as if the space had been tailor-made for them. Derek stepped back and handed his phone to me. “Tess, you always take the best shots. Take a few for us.” I took the phone. Through the lens, they were leaning into one another, laughing. Ethan stood squarely in the center. Vivian, wearing my dress and my ring, had her arm hooked tightly around his elbow. The other three clustered around them like a genuine bridal party. “Tess,” Ethan snapped, his patience wearing thin. “What are you daydreaming about?” I blinked, brought the camera up, and tapped the shutter. One shot. Two shots. A dozen shots. Not a single one of them had me in it. By the time we returned to the hotel, it was nearly two in the morning. When we first arrived at the resort, I had booked three luxury ocean-view suites. Two of the suites were for the other four friends, while Ethan and I were supposed to share the third. But when we walked up to the front desk to pick up the keys, Tyler clapped his hands together with a grin. “Hey, there’s still twelve hours left on the Partner Swap timer. According to the game, Ethan and Vivian are staying together tonight.” My fingers tightened around the key envelope. “Sharing a room is part of the game now?” Vivian answered as if explaining something obvious to a child. “It’s just a room, Tess. The suite has two queen beds. It’s not like anything is going to happen.” Ethan’s face darkened as he looked at me. “With everyone right here, what exactly are you accusing us of?” I stared at him, ignoring his tone. “Then where am I sleeping?” The group exchanged brief, uneasy glances. Finally, Derek pointed down the hallway toward the end of the corridor. “Ethan and Vivian’s room is the family suite. There’s a pull-out sofa bed in the living room. Can’t you just sleep there?” So that was the arrangement. I was expected to sleep on a pull-out couch outside the bedroom of my fiancé and my best friend, listening to them close the door, waiting for their twenty-four-hour game to run its course. A sudden wave of absurdity washed over me. It was so ridiculous it was almost funny. “I’ll just book another room downstairs,” I said, turning back toward the reception desk. Tyler immediately caught my arm. “Woah, hold on! Rooms here are eight hundred dollars a night. Why waste that kind of cash? We all grew up together—who here doesn’t know everybody?” I didn’t grow up with them. The five of them had known each other since pre-K. Their families went on summer trips together; their parents sat on the same country club boards. I was the outsider who met Ethan during our sophomore year at NYU, the girl he eventually introduced to his inner circle. In those early years, I had tried so desperately hard to fit in. When they reminisced about breaking into their prep school’s boathouse in ninth grade, I listened quietly and smiled along, even though I had no idea who they were talking about. When they dropped inside jokes that only the five of them understood, I secretly jotted the names and references down in the Notes app on my phone so I could look them up later. I memorized every single person’s birthday, their coffee orders, their allergies, and their favorite cocktails. Whenever we planned a dinner, I was always the first to arrive. Whenever we went on trips, I was the one who spent weeks comparing flights, booking villas, organizing private drivers, and building color-coded itineraries. Yet no matter how much effort I poured in, whenever they talked about the past, it always boiled down to the same dismissive phrase: “Well, you didn’t know us back then, Tess. You wouldn’t get it.” Eventually, “you wouldn’t get it” mutated into “there’s no need to tell her.” They changed dinner reservations without notifying me. They started a new group text with matching profile pictures without including me. Even this trip—this supposed “pre-wedding celebration”—was something I only found out about because I happened to glimpse a chat log on Ethan’s laptop. They had been planning it for six months behind my back. When I had asked Ethan why nobody had mentioned it to me, he had simply chuckled and ruffled my hair. “Well, we were waiting for you to step in and organize it, babe. You’re so much better at that stuff.” So I had taken out my credit card, booked the flights, secured the resort, and paid for the deposits out of my own account. And in the end, the five of them came to enjoy the vacation, while I was brought along to act as the concierge, the photographer, and the pack mule. And now, I was expected to give up my own bedroom. I loosened my grip on the key card and handed it over to Tyler. “You guys take it,” I said quietly. “I’ll stay down in the lobby lounge.” I didn’t fight. I didn’t raise my voice. I just walked away. When I woke up the next morning on the plush sofa in the corner of the lobby lounge, the sun was already high. I unlocked my phone. The main group chat was active. Someone had posted a photo of the five of them sitting at the resort’s private beach club, enjoying a spread of mimosas, eggs benedict, and fresh fruit. Five place settings were arranged neatly around the outdoor table. A direct text from Vivian popped up right below it: [Tess! We were so worried we’d wake you up, so we came down to grab breakfast first. Eat whenever you wake up!] I washed my face in the lobby restroom, smoothed down my clothes, and walked over to the resort restaurant. The hostess gave me a warm, professional smile. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but our breakfast service closed fifteen minutes ago.” Before I could reply, my phone began to vibrate in my palm. It was Ethan. I answered. “Hello?” “Where the hell are you?” His tone was sharp, laced with heavy impatience. “At the restaurant.” “Why are you still at the restaurant?” He sighed loudly into the receiver. “We’ve been sitting down at the marina waiting for you for twenty minutes.” I opened the group chat again. Not a single person had posted about heading to the marina. “Nobody told me what time we were leaving,” I said. “Didn’t Vivian text you?” “She texted to say you guys were eating breakfast without me.” There was a beat of silence on his end, followed by an irritated huff. “Tess, use some common sense. If you see everyone else has left, couldn’t you just ask? Everyone is down here waiting on you.” I never got my breakfast. By the time I rushed down to the marina, the engine of the private yacht was already idling, sending deep vibrations through the wooden dock. The five of them were standing near the stern, drinking iced teas. Not a single seat had been cleared for me. Vivian was wearing Ethan’s oversized white button-down linen shirt over her bikini, the hem falling just past her thighs. When she saw me approaching, she pulled the collar flush against her chest, looking flustered. “Tess, please don’t get the wrong idea! The zipper on my linen cover-up snagged, so Ethan was nice enough to lend me one of his shirts.” Ethan’s dress shirts had always been off-limits to me. Once, during our second year of dating, I had accidentally washed one of his custom white shirts with a dark load, leaving it faintly tinted gray. He had refused to speak to me for an entire week, claiming that he hated anyone touching his personal garments. Yet now, Vivian was wearing his shirt right in front of him. Ethan didn’t mind at all. In fact, he reached out and adjusted her collar, his voice soft. “You should throw on some linen pants too later. Don’t catch a cold from the sea breeze.” Vivian poked her tongue out at me playful. “See? He’s such a control freak.” I grabbed the boat’s railing and stepped aboard. Before I could even balance myself, Tyler shoved a heavy tote bag into my arms. “Perfect timing! Sunscreen, the DSLR camera, and all the water bottles are in here. Mind watching over them?” I held the heavy canvas bag against my chest and took a seat on the small bench right next to the loud, rumbling engine—the most uncomfortable spot on the entire vessel. The cold ocean wind blasted against my face. Because I hadn’t eaten anything since yesterday afternoon, my stomach began to twist in sharp, rhythmic cramps. I had spent six months taking private swimming lessons just for this day. Ethan loved deep-sea diving, but I had always been terrified of open water. Yet I had forced myself to conquer that fear, secretly training until I finally earned my open-water diving certification, hoping to surprise him on this trip. When we reached the dive site, the boat captain stepped out and announced, “We can only send five divers down per group due to safety regulations.” Derek immediately turned his head and grinned at me. “Hey, doesn’t Tess hate the water anyway? You can just stay on the deck and guard our stuff.” I parted my lips, wanting to tell them that I wasn’t afraid anymore—that I had my certification card sitting right inside my wallet. But before I could speak, Vivian threw her arms around Ethan’s right elbow. “Ethan, I’m so nervous! You have to hold my hand the entire time we’re down there, okay?” Ethan reached over and carefully checked the pressure gauge on her oxygen tank, his expression focused and gentle. “Don’t worry. I won’t let go of you.” I swallowed the words back down my throat. One by one, the five of them tipped backward off the edge of the boat and splashed into the crystal-blue ocean. I sat alone on the empty deck, holding their designer sunglasses, their phones, and their dry clothes. After twenty minutes, the boat captain walked over, holding two cups of warm water. He handed one to me and looked down at my hands. “You’re not going down?” I reached into my canvas bag, pulled out my wallet, and thumbed the edge of the glossy, brand-new diving certificate card. I looked at it for a long time. Then I slowly slid it back into my bag and shook my head. “No,” I whispered. “Not anymore.” By lunchtime, Vivian had developed a case of seasickness, and Ethan stayed glued to her side, rubbing her back and feeding her ginger chews. My stomach was cramping so severely from the hunger and stress that I couldn’t stomach the thought of rich food. I flagged down the boat’s catering staff and asked if they could bring me a small bowl of plain broth or simple rice porridge. Tyler overheard and burst out laughing. “Tess, seriously? Now you’re feeling sick too? Are you just copying Vivian because she’s getting attention?” The rest of the group chuckled along. Ethan raised his eyes from Vivian and looked at me, his brow furrowed. “Since when do you get seasick on boats?” “I haven’t eaten anything all day,” I explained softly, holding my lower abdomen. “My stomach hurts.” Instead of asking if I was okay, Ethan turned back, smoothed a stray strand of hair behind Vivian’s ear, and handed her a glass of warm water. “Then just hang tight for a bit, Tess. Don’t cause a scene while she’s actually feeling miserable.” A few minutes later, the crew member brought out a single bowl of steaming white porridge. Just as I reached my hand out to take it, Ethan reached across the table, grabbed the bowl, and set it directly in front of Vivian. “Eat a few bites of this,” he urged her gently. “It’ll settle your stomach.” My hand froze in mid-air. I looked around the table. Not a single person thought there was anything wrong with what he had just done. Vivian stirred the porridge twice with her spoon, took two tiny bites, and then wrinkled her nose in disgust. “Ugh, it’s completely bland. I don’t want it.” She pushed the mess of stirred porridge back across the table toward me. “Tess, weren’t you complaining about your stomach? Here, you can have the rest.” The porridge was a soggy, scattered mess, and a faint smudge of her pink lipstick clung to the rim of the ceramic spoon. In the past, I probably would have smiled and accepted it. Because in the past, Vivian would always cuddle up to me and say, “We’re best friends, Tess! What’s mine is yours!” And Ethan would look at me approvingly and say, “Tess is always so sensible. She’s not high-maintenance like other girls.” But this time, I didn’t reach out. Instead, I raised my hand and motioned to the server. “Excuse me. Could you please throw this away?” Vivian’s face froze. “Tess… I barely touched it. Are you… are you disgusted by me?” “I don’t eat other people’s leftovers,” I said, my voice entirely flat. Ethan’s face darkened in an instant. “Tess! What the hell is wrong with you? She’s feeling awful and she still thought to share her food with you. Do you really have to embarrass her like this?” I looked at the five faces staring back at me across the table, and for a second, a strange sense of detachment washed over me. For seven years, this had been our dynamic. Whenever there were leftovers, they were passed to me. Whenever a table was too small, I was expected to sit at the adjacent counter. Whenever a car ran out of seats, I was the one who volunteered to take an Uber. Whenever they needed someone to document their lives, they remembered I existed. And the moment I refused to play my assigned part—even just once—I was suddenly labeled as bitter, petty, uncooperative, and incapable of fitting in. I lowered my eyes, staring at the polished teak floor of the boat deck. “I’m sorry,” I said quietly. As expected, the tension around the table instantly evaporated. Derek let out a relaxed laugh and patted the table. “There we go! That’s more like it! We’re out here to have fun, guys!” I offered them a tiny, hollow smile. My apology wasn’t because I thought I was wrong. It was simply because I realized I no longer cared enough to argue with any of them. That evening, they set up a lounge area on the main terrace of the villa to drink margaritas. I went back to my room alone and pulled my luggage out from under the bed. The trip was supposed to last seven days, but we were only on day three. I had zero intention of enduring another four days of this psychological theater. I logged onto my phone and booked a seat on the earliest flight back home tomorrow morning. Once the confirmation landed in my inbox, I realized I couldn’t find my phone charger. I remembered that Vivian had borrowed it from my bag earlier that afternoon, so I walked down the hall to her room to retrieve it. The door to her suite was unlocked and slightly ajar. The room was empty—she was still downstairs on the terrace with Ethan—but her iPad was sitting open on the nightstand, its screen glowing brightly in the dim room. A new notification banner popped up at the top of the screen. It was from a group chat titled: The Original Five. I stopped in my tracks. Derek had just dropped a short video clip into the chat—it was the recording of Ethan and Vivian kissing during the mock wedding earlier that night. Below the video, a rapid stream of messages was flooding in: [Derek: Finally got them to lock lips!] [Tyler: Told you guys the Partner Swap idea would work like a charm.] [Derek: Tess’s face went dead white when Ethan kissed her. I’m amazed she didn’t blow up right then and there.] [Tyler: Please, she’s a master at faking it. She’d swallow her own teeth before making a scene.] I stood by the edge of the bed, my fingertips slowly losing all warmth. A group chat without me. I reached out and tapped the screen, scrolling upward through the chat history. The very first message in the log was dated three months ago. Vivian had dropped a screenshot of a viral “Couple Swap Game” into the chat, along with a text: [Vivian: Tess is always bragging about how smoothly she integrated into our group. How about we test how many rounds she can actually survive?] Tyler had replied almost instantly: [Tyler: Easy. Rig her box so every single card she pulls is blank.] Derek had added: [Derek: And make sure Ethan and Viv get matching cards every single time. From holding hands, to hugging, to kissing—make it wild.] My heart hammered against my ribs as I scrolled further up. Ethan hadn’t responded at first. But hours later, he had typed out a short message: [Ethan: Don’t push it too far.] I stared at those five words, a pathetic, stupid spark of hope flaring up in my chest. At least he tried to stop them. At least he cared. But then my thumb scrolled down to his very next text: [Ethan: Tess takes things way too seriously. We still need her to handle all the vendor bookings and logistics for the wedding. Don’t actually piss her off so much that she walks away.] Derek had replied with a series of laughing emojis: [Derek: Relax, man. She’s obsessed with you. She’s never leaving.] Ethan’s reply was brief: [Ethan: True.] True. Four letters, like a physical blow across my face. He hadn’t been ignorant. He had known about the game from day one. He knew every single card in my box was blank. He knew his friends were treating me like a performing monkey for their own amusement. He knew I would suffer through it, round after round, swallowing my pride. His only concern had been whether their cruelty would disrupt my ability to organize his perfect wedding. I kept scrolling, my mind numb. I saw the messages regarding the trip’s itinerary. I had posted my meticulous, weeks-long itinerary into the main group chat months ago, and no one had ever bothered to reply. But in The Original Five chat, they had ripped it to shreds: [Tyler: The diving excursion Tess booked sounds boring as hell.] [Derek: Vivian’s scared of open water anyway. Let’s switch it to a yacht party instead.] [Ethan: No need to tell her in advance. We’ll just change the plan when we get there. She won’t say no.] They had even debated the room assignments weeks before we left the city: [Tyler: Put Ethan and Vivian in the main family suite.] [Derek: What about Tess?] [Tyler: Sofa bed in the living room.] [Derek: What if she complains?] [Ethan: I’ll talk to her. She’ll agree.] Standing in the quiet bedroom, I felt a sudden, suffocating pressure in my chest, making it nearly impossible to draw breath. For seven long years, I had blamed myself for my inability to truly connect with them. I had assumed I was just too quiet, too awkward, or too culturally different. So I had tried with everything I had. I catered to their whims, laughed off their subtle disrespect, and willingly took on every tedious task they didn’t want to handle. Only now did I finally understand the truth. It was never that I wasn’t trying hard enough. They had been standing inside a locked room with their arms crossed, holding the door shut, watching me bang my fists against the glass from the outside—laughing at how desperate I looked. A new notification banner flashed across the top of the screen. [Tyler: Where’s Tess right now?] [Derek: Probably crying into a pillow in her room. Hey, should we set up another round for tomorrow?] A voice note from Vivian popped up a second later. I tapped it. Her sweet, airy voice filled the quiet room: “Maybe we should stop, guys. Tess seemed genuinely upset at lunch today.” Ethan’s text flashed immediately beneath her voice note: [Ethan: If she’s mad, let her cool off on her own. Does everyone have to baby her every single time she pouts? It’s exhausting.] Listening to his voice through the speaker, the absolute last embers of warmth inside my chest died out completely. I was about to close the tablet when a new video notification popped up in the chat. It was a clip Derek had stealthily recorded from the villa balcony just minutes ago. The terrace was empty now, except for Ethan and Vivian. Vivian was noticeably intoxicated, her head resting heavily on Ethan’s shoulder as they stared out at the dark ocean. In the video, her voice sounded small, fragile, and thick with alcohol: “Ethan… if I hadn’t turned you down back in college… would you still have ended up with Tess?” My fingers froze against the cold glass of the screen. The ocean breeze howled through the speakers. In the video, Ethan remained silent for a long, agonizing moment. Then, he spoke in a low, quiet voice: “No.” Vivian let out a wet, breathless laugh, tears slipping down her flushed cheeks. “Do you regret it now?” Ethan didn’t answer her with words. Instead, he reached out his hand, gently cupped her face, and wiped away her tears with his thumb. The tenderness in that single movement was an answer far more absolute than any words could ever be. The video cut off. The group chat remained silent for a few seconds before Derek sent a message: [Derek: I’ve been saying it for seven years: you two were always meant to be together.] Tyler chimed in: [Tyler: Tess was an intruder from the day Ethan brought her around. She took Vivian’s spot for seven years—it’s time she gave it back.] A high-pitched ringing echoed in my ears. To them, the woman who had stood beside Ethan for seven years, the woman who had supported him through his darkest moments, the woman he was supposed to marry in two months—was nothing more than an intruder who had stolen someone else’s life. I turned off the tablet, placed the charger back on the nightstand, and walked out of the room. I didn’t march down to the terrace. I didn’t scream. I didn’t demand an explanation. Because the answer was already crystal clear. I walked back to my room, opened my airline app, and moved my flight up to the red-eye departing in two hours. That gave me just enough time to pack and leave. If there was never any room for me in a group of six, then for the rest of my life, I would never reserve a single place for them again.

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The man who funded my education for years went bankrupt and lost his sight. I found him, brought him home, and took care of him. He stared blankly with unseeing eyes, his voice fragile and thick with unshed tears. “Don’t be so good to me, Harper. I’m thirty. I’m a ruined man. I don’t deserve you.” I leaned over to gently wipe the dampness from his cheek. But out of the corner of my eye, I saw his adopted son leaning against the hallway wall, arms crossed, watching him with a frigid glare. “He’s right. You are thirty,” the boy said softly. He shifted his gaze to me, a smirk playing on his lips—a smile wrapped in barbed wire, radiating a storm. “And me?” he said. “I’m only eighteen.” 1 It was my third year in the corporate world when the news broke: Arthur Harrison had lost everything. His massive gamble on a tech merger had failed spectacularly. He was wiped out. His rivals hadn’t hesitated to kick him while he was down, and amidst the chaos, a car accident had taken his sight. “Arthur Harrison just didn’t have the teeth for it. A businessman with a heart that soft was never going to last,” my coworkers gossiped over their cubicle walls. “God, he used to be Chicago’s most eligible bachelor. Now look at him. He’s worse off than a beggar on the street.” “Harper? Are you okay? You look awful,” one of the women finally noticed me. I stared at them for a second, my mind entirely blank, before I grabbed my purse. “Sarah, I have a family emergency. I need to take the afternoon off.” If you had told me three years ago that my reunion with Arthur Harrison would happen in a greasy, linoleum-floored diner near Chicago Med, I would have thought you were insane. Three years ago, he was a wildly successful young entrepreneur. He had been the keynote speaker at my college graduation. He had stood at the podium—radiant, effortless, and devastatingly handsome. The campus anonymous boards had talked about him for weeks. Now, his eyes were dull and unfocused. His long fingers groped blindly across the sticky Formica table. I saw a smear of ketchup near his sleeve and quickly caught his hand. With my other hand, I took a wet wipe and scrubbed the table clean. “Stop fussing and just spit it out!” a brash, impatient voice snapped. I turned my head. Sitting across from Arthur was a college kid radiating pure, unadulterated hostility. He had a shaved head, a slit in his left eyebrow, and a silver stud in his ear. He knocked his knuckles hard against the table, barking like a cornered stray. “I’m warning you, the money is gone. You could shake him upside down and you wouldn’t find a dime, so drop the Good Samaritan act.” “I apologize. My son’s temper gets the better of him. He didn’t mean to offend you,” Arthur said softly. “Why are you being polite to her? Anyone looking for you right now is a debt collector.” “Jaxon, that’s enough.” They started arguing. Arthur kept his voice low, trying to de-escalate, but Jaxon was relentless. He was stubborn and vicious, throwing words like punches until Arthur’s pale cheeks flushed with humiliation. I stared at the rigid, defensive line of Arthur’s back for three full seconds before I realized I was still holding his hand. I looked down. There was a tiny, distinct mole resting right on the webbing between his thumb and index finger. Only when Arthur’s flush deepened and those cloudy, unseeing eyes turned vaguely in my direction did I finally let go. “Mr. Harrison, you misunderstand. I’m not here for money. My name is Harper. Harper Hayes. I’m one of the students you sponsored.” Arthur blinked slowly, his brow furrowing as he searched his memory. I figured he had forgotten. He had dropped out of an Ivy League school to build a startup that changed the industry, and in his quest to change the world, he had funded the education of hundreds, if not thousands, of underprivileged kids. But then, Arthur smiled. It was the same smile from three years ago, when he had his bodyguard hand me a bouquet of flowers at graduation, waving goodbye to me through the tinted glass of his town car. “I remember you,” he said softly. “All the other kids called me Arthur in their letters. You always called me Mr. Harrison.” He remembered. I took a deep, shaky breath, trying to suppress the sudden, violent hammering of my heart. “Mr. Harrison,” I said, my voice remarkably steady. “If you don’t mind, you can stay at my place for now.” Jaxon crossed his arms. “He can’t pay rent.” “He doesn’t need to.” Jaxon scowled. “He needs money for medical bills.” “I’ll pay them.” Jaxon narrowed his eyes, assessing me. “You’ve got a good job, you’re pretty. Why the hell are you anchoring yourself to dead weight?” Arthur turned his blind gaze toward me, silent, lost, and deeply worried. I tapped the table, a flicker of genuine anger sparking in my chest at the term “dead weight.” When I spoke, my tone had turned to ice. I looked right at Jaxon. “Seven years ago, I had nothing. If Mr. Harrison hadn’t paid for my schooling, I would have been trapped in a dead-end factory town for the rest of my life, popping out kids.” I sat up straight and looked back at Arthur. “I will remember that grace until the day I die. I am here to pay my debt. He is not dead weight, and I refuse to let him sink into the mud. I will hold him up. I will carry him.” 2 It took some convincing, but Arthur eventually moved into my apartment. He was hesitant, but he had no other options. The banks had seized everything. He was penniless, homeless, and responsible for Jaxon—the orphaned son of his late older brother. Jaxon had just started his freshman year of college. As far as I was concerned, he was a walking lawsuit waiting to happen. But he was Arthur’s kid, which meant I had to tolerate him. Blindness made every little thing a monumental task for Arthur. I held onto his sleeve, gently guiding him through every room, letting him touch the edges of the furniture, the doorways, the counters. He smiled, apologizing for the trouble, assuring me he had memorized the layout. But that very first night, he mistook the living room for his bedroom. I was lying on the couch in the dark, scrolling through my phone, when I noticed him stop dead in his tracks by the wall. I paused, curious. When he didn’t call out, I realized he had no idea I was there. I smiled to myself and opened my mouth to let him know. But before I could speak, Arthur—staring blindly at the drywall—began to unbutton his dress shirt. Inch by inch, his chest was exposed in the moonlight. He slipped the shirt off, draping it over his forearm. He pressed his right hand against the wall for balance, and then— He reached for the buckle of his belt. 3 I lay paralyzed on the couch, instantly regretting not speaking up two seconds earlier. Arthur’s skin was pale, his muscles lean and tightly coiled. Bathed in the silver light spilling through the window, he looked like a statue carved from moonstone. Left in nothing but a pair of dark grey boxer briefs, he trailed his hand along the wall, trying to navigate toward the bed. Except he was in the wrong room. After a few steps, his hand hit the flat screen of the TV. A flash of sheer panic crossed his face. Arthur was a dignified man. I doubt he had ever in his life stripped down in a woman’s living room uninvited. His hands began to shake wildly as he felt his way along the wall. It took him an agonizingly long time to finally find the door to the guest bedroom. He practically fled into the room, pulling the door shut behind him. On the couch, the breath I had been holding in my lungs finally escaped in a violent, trembling exhale. He had a mole on his left shoulder blade, right near the curve of his collarbone. It looked like a dark, tiny fish swimming in a pale pond. Beauty is marked by its flaws. For some reason, that phrase echoed in my head. I didn’t sleep a wink that night. I lay there until the early hours of the morning, waiting until I was absolutely certain Arthur was asleep before I silently crept off the couch and slipped into my own bedroom. 4 The first time I saw Arthur Harrison was at my high school. It was a decaying, underfunded public school in a dying Rust Belt town. Arthur was twenty-three at the time. His startup had just secured its first major round of funding, and the world was his oyster. He was brimming with energy, desperate to use his newfound wealth to do some good. I stood at the very back of the auditorium, craning my neck through the sea of heads to catch a glimpse of his striking, expressive face. He was so young—he looked more like a student than I did, with my heavy, dead-eyed exhaustion. I knew the principal thought this “rich kid” was an easy mark. He had padded the scholarship list with the kids of local politicians and school board members. I, who was actually on the verge of dropping out to work shifts at the local diner, had been pushed to the very bottom of the list. Small towns are like that. Corrupt in the pettiest of ways. I stood in line without a shred of hope, zoning out, trying to calculate how many shifts I’d need to afford rent once I quit school. The line moved fast. Suddenly, I was standing right in front of him. He looked at me, glanced down at my calloused hands and the frayed, muddy hems of my jeans, and knelt down slightly to meet my eyes. “I’m moving your name to the top of the list,” he said softly. “Focus on your grades. You won’t have to worry about college tuition, I promise.” “Mr. Harrison, you can’t—” the principal panicked. The top of the list meant a full-ride sponsorship. Arthur smiled and politely shut him down. He looked gentle, but his tone was absolute steel. Watching his profile, I suddenly felt like a weed that had sprouted in a manicured garden. A hot flush of shame crawled up my neck. I hid my hands behind my back, terrified he would look too closely at the scars on my knuckles or the cheap fabric of my clothes. He was out of my league in every conceivable way. Over the years, I watched him from afar in crowded rooms. He was a good man, fiercely dedicated to his foundation. Because our county was so poor, he came back every semester to check on the kids. We spoke privately a few times, but it was always strictly about my academics. He was warm, but it was the same blanket warmth he gave everyone else. From high school through college, I wrote him letters. Once a month, like clockwork. I was terrified that if I wrote too often, I’d annoy him, but if I wrote too little, he’d forget I existed. In one of his early replies, he jokingly asked why I was so formal. Why “Mr. Harrison”? The other kids called him Arthur. The bolder ones even called him Artie. I never dared tell him the truth. I wanted to be special. Even if that “specialness” was entirely in my own head. Like a stray dog guarding a bone, I quietly idolized him. He was my personal saint. Back then, I didn’t fully understand what my obsession was, or why I was so fiercely opposed to treating him like a peer. But lying in bed now, I finally understood. 5 I had just experienced my first wet dream. It wasn’t about the Hollywood actor my friends obsessed over, or the perfectly nice accountant my coworker had tried to set me up with. It was about Arthur. In the dream, his shirt was unbuttoned. He was lying back against my pillows, a faint, devastating flush on his cheeks. A slow smile spread across his lips as he asked me what I wanted to call him now. And dream-me was terrifyingly bold. I straddled him, burying my face in his neck, and murmured, “Mine.” Then I bit down softly on the little mole on his hand. I kissed my way up his forearm, and finally, I sucked on the dark mark near his collarbone until the pale skin around it bloomed into a violent red bruise. Arthur let out a low groan. “Harper,” he whispered, his voice dark and heavy. “Let me.” He turned his head, gripping my wrists, pressing his lips to my pulse point. He looked up at me through his lashes—feral, seductive, entirely in control. “I’m older than you,” he murmured. “I know more than you. I should be the one teaching you.” I woke up gasping for air. From the kitchen, I heard the loud hum of the exhaust fan. I scrambled out of bed, threw on some clothes, and practically ran into the kitchen. Standing by the stove was Jaxon. He was flipping an egg in a skillet with one hand and holding a cigarette in the other. He was shirtless, wearing only a pair of low-slung jeans. My pink checkered apron was tied around his waist, the thin straps stretching tightly across his muscular back. He heard me, turned around, and glared through the smoke. “Look what time it is. You finally awake?” I offered an awkward smile and reached for the skillet handle. Jaxon yanked it away, our forearms brushing. “Sit down, it’s almost done,” he snapped. “And go wake him up. He’s got this weird complex about being a burden. He’ll starve in there before he asks you for food.” I hurried over and knocked on the guest room door. “Come in.” I pushed the door open. Arthur was already awake, sitting perfectly straight at the desk. His hands were gently tracing the contours of a small clay sculpture. My heart dropped into my stomach. How the hell had I forgotten to hide that? It was a bust I had made during a weekend pottery class. Somehow, subconsciously, the face I had sculpted looked exactly like him. He’s blind, I reminded myself frantically. He can’t tell what it is. Arthur tilted his head up. In the morning light, the grey film over his eyes was highly visible. He smiled at the empty space in front of him. “Thank you for taking me in, Harper. Did you make this? I can’t quite feel what it’s supposed to be, but I imagine it’s beautiful.” “I made it, yeah.” His thumb gently brushed against the cheek of the clay face, right over a fingerprint I had accidentally left behind. I cleared my throat loudly, snatched the sculpture from his hands, and shoved it into a drawer. “It’s just a tree,” I lied smoothly. “It’s really poorly done. Don’t worry about it.” “A tree…?” Arthur murmured, a small smile playing on his lips. The way he smiled sent a sudden, electric jolt straight to my core, bringing the wet dream rushing back in vivid detail. My face burned. I hated myself in that moment. I felt entirely devoid of morals. This was Arthur Harrison. A fundamentally good man who had hit rock bottom. When he got back on his feet, he belonged with a refined, elegant woman from his own world. And here I was, a nobody whose life he had saved, harboring dirty, filthy thoughts about him while he was vulnerable. I was disgusting. I cursed myself a thousand times over, forcing the twisted, heavy desire out of my mind. But a dark, pessimistic voice in the back of my head whispered: How long is your willpower really going to last? Arthur turned his face toward the window, his expression serene. He didn’t know I had taken a silent step closer. I was so close I could see the fine, golden hairs on his jawline. “Is the sun out?” he asked softly. “I think… I think I can see a little bit of light.” “It is. It’s a beautiful day.” I stood there, just watching him. The sun warmed the earth, but Arthur had warmed my life. Standing in this tiny room, it felt as if my own personal saint had fallen right into my hands. 6 Breakfast was a struggle for him. His chopsticks kept missing his plate, clicking against the table. Without thinking, I picked up a piece of egg and guided it to his mouth. Arthur’s face flushed a deep red. He chewed, looking profoundly uncomfortable. Jaxon hadn’t touched his food. He sat across from us, arms crossed, watching the exchange with cold, hard eyes. He hadn’t said a word. “Jaxon, aren’t you going to eat?” I asked, baffled by the sudden mood swing. He had been fine in the kitchen. “I ate before my run. Not all of us sleep till noon,” he said, his voice flat and hard. “Jaxon! She works full time. There’s nothing wrong with sleeping in on a Saturday,” Arthur scolded, frowning. Jaxon stared at him deadpan, his jaw ticking as if he were grinding his teeth. Then, completely deliberately, Jaxon stretched his long legs out under the small table, leaning back in his chair. “Yeah, you’re right! Good thing it’s Saturday. I’m staying here all day.” As he stretched, his foot bumped mine, forcing my knee directly into the side of Arthur’s thigh. I jerked back like I had been burned. Arthur didn’t seem to notice the contact. He just frowned in Jaxon’s direction. “Jaxon, behave.” “It’s fine,” I said quickly. “He’s family. I know he’s worried about leaving you here alone with me.” Arthur didn’t say anything else. But later, when Jaxon went to the bathroom for a smoke break, Arthur reached out, his fingers finding my sleeve. He leaned in close. Because of his blindness, his spatial awareness was shot. If I hadn’t leaned back, his chest would have pressed directly against mine. Arthur tilted his head slightly, his sightless eyes searching, his brow furrowed in confusion. “Why do you call him Jaxon?” “What?” “You’ve only ever called me Mr. Harrison.” “I—” My brain short-circuited. He was so close I could smell him. Clean soap, cedar, and the faint, warm scent of his skin. “Harper…” “I just—” Whatever shred of sanity I had left was rapidly evaporating. He looked so innocent. He clearly had no idea how intimate this was. No wonder. He couldn’t see the frantic, desperate pounding of my pulse at my throat. A ruined, beautiful man. Like a fragile glass chalice placed right at the edge of a table. If I just leaned in a fraction of an inch, I could kiss him. Would he even know it was my lips, or would he think my hand had brushed against him? I could lie to him. Clatter! I sprang out of my chair so fast it tipped over backwards. Arthur flinched violently. I grabbed his arms to keep him from falling, my teeth clamped shut to keep my emotions from spilling out. “I call you Mr. Harrison because you’re my benefactor.” “Can’t a benefactor be a friend?” “A benefactor is a benefactor.” The bathroom door clicked open. Jaxon stepped out, a cigarette dangling from his lips. He had the eyes of a feral wolf, and they locked directly onto me. I looked away, my face burning, praying he hadn’t seen exactly what I had been thinking. Jaxon just let out a low, mocking scoff. 7 After Arthur went to bed, Jaxon knocked on my bedroom door and let himself in. He dropped into my desk chair, sprawling his legs out, the silver stud in his ear catching the light. He tapped his knuckles on the desk like a detective at an interrogation. “Alright, out with it. What do you actually want?” “What?” “Are you after his equity? Corporate secrets? His contact list?” I laughed out loud. “I’m a middle manager at a logistics company. I have zero interest in tech equity or his billionaire contacts. Why would you even think that?” Jaxon’s face flushed. He was only eighteen, and his forced, hardened-man persona instantly cracked. He ran a hand over his buzzed head, frustrated. “Then you have to want something! Don’t tell me you… you want…” I looked at him, amused. He stammered, unable to finish his sentence, his face turning the color of a tomato. I sighed. “Do you read comics? I have the vintage Calvin and Hobbes box set in the living room if you’re bored.” Jaxon looked like he wanted to spontaneously combust. “Who the hell reads Calvin and Hobbes! Stop trying to change the subject!” Because he was Arthur’s kid, every time I looked at him, I saw traces of Arthur. It softened my edges. I looked at him gently. “Okay, take your time. What do you think I want?” He forced the words out like he was choking on them. “…Sex.” I blinked in surprise. Jaxon glared at me, defensive and utterly humiliated. When he saw that I looked genuinely shocked—and not a bit guilty—he realized he had severely misread the situation. Too proud to admit defeat, he raised his voice. “Fine! I get it! But you can’t blame me for thinking it! I’m good-looking, I’m built, girls literally line up outside the library to talk to me. I thought you were just using him to get to me!” His voice dropped to an embarrassed mumble. “He’s sponsored so many kids, and you’re the only idiot who actually showed up to wade into this mess. I thought you had an ulterior motive… I didn’t know you were just genuinely stupid.” He scratched his jaw, his bicep flexing. “I, uh… I misjudged you. My bad.” He stood up quickly. “Anyway. I’m gonna go do push-ups in the living room. See ya.” I shook my head, laughing softly. Half a second later, Jaxon ducked back into the room, grabbed the Calvin and Hobbes books off the shelf, and sprinted away. Who’s the stupid one here? 8 After Jaxon went back to his dorm, it was just Arthur and me. Over the next few days, I put tactile stickers on the microwave buttons and his meal prep containers. I added foam corner guards to all the furniture, and I bought him a folding cane so he could navigate the apartment safely. Most things were manageable. But there was one major hurdle: showering. I was terrified to leave him alone in the wet, slippery bathroom. But I also couldn’t just pull up a chair and sit outside the shower curtain like a creep. Arthur gave me a brave, strained smile. “It’s fine, Harper. I can manage.” The sheer vulnerability in his voice completely destroyed my hesitation. Fine. I’ll stand guard. I couldn’t risk him breaking a hip. I took his hand, guiding his fingers over the shampoo, the body wash, and the temperature dials, explaining everything until he had it memorized. Only then did I pull the curtain shut. The water turned on, and my mind instantly went into overdrive. Every single one of my senses was hyper-fixated on the silhouette behind the thin, frosted plastic curtain. I clenched my fists, staring aggressively at my own knees, trying to focus on literally anything else. “Harper.” Maybe it was the acoustics of the bathroom, but the way he dragged out my name sounded thick, low, and incredibly intimate. Intimate? I was losing my mind. I glared at my hands, wishing I could physically reach into my brain and scrub it with bleach. “Harper?” “Yeah?” I croaked, turning around. The curtain was pulled back an inch. A wet, muscular arm and a sliver of a sharp V-line were exposed. He held out his open palm, looking confused. “I’m sorry, my memory is failing me. Did I just pump the body wash or the shampoo?” “Body wash,” I said, my voice sounding incredibly tight. A deeply paranoid thought flickered through my brain: Is he… is he flirting with me? “Oh,” he smiled softly, looking down. “Losing my sight has made me so clumsy. So stupid.” The guilt hit me like a freight train. I was a monster for sexualizing this man’s tragedy. “You’re not stupid,” I whispered. To me, bankrupt or blind, he would always be the brilliant, kind man who changed the world. Even if he only changed my little corner of it. He wasn’t clumsy. He was surviving. The water shut off. “I’m done. But… I think I forgot to bring my clean clothes in.” “It’s okay. I have them.” I grabbed the neat stack of clothes from his bed and handed them around the curtain. “What’s this?” “Your t-shirt. The tag is in the back.” “And this?” “…” I coughed into my fist. “Your… boxers.” Arthur smiled warmly. “Thank you.” Once he was dressed, he pulled the curtain back. I took his arm to guide him out, but I noticed he was walking stiffly. “Are you okay?” Arthur’s ears turned crimson. He stayed silent for a long time before he finally muttered, “Harper, the underwear you bought me… I think it’s a size too small.” 9 I broke into a coughing fit. I felt a bizarre, overwhelming wave of guilt, like I was actively bullying a saint. Days passed. I went to work; Arthur stayed home. Things were peaceful. Except a few times, when I got off work early, I would hear a voice through his closed bedroom door. He seemed to be on phone calls—conference calls, maybe. The voice sounded like his, but completely devoid of the soft, broken vulnerability he showed me. This voice was ice-cold, commanding, and arrogant. Like a king executing his enemies. It sounded so different I convinced myself he must be listening to an audiobook. Because I was rushing home every day, my coworkers finally caught on. “Harper, do you have a boyfriend?” one of them asked, smirking. I shook my head frantically. She clapped her hands. “Oh, thank God. I thought I missed my window. That guy from accounting I set you up with? He really liked you. He wants to take you to dinner.” “How about tonight? No time like the present! He’s a great guy, tall, good benefits…” I vaguely remembered the guy. He was quiet, polite, and completely inoffensive. My coworker was so pushy I couldn’t find a polite way to say no, so I caved. Before I left the office, I called Arthur. I told him I had to work late and that I had ordered delivery for him. Arthur didn’t complain. He just told me to be careful and take an Uber home if it got too late. I wanted to explain that I wasn’t working, but I stopped myself. It was none of his business. He was just being polite. If I over-explained my whereabouts, he’d think I was full of myself. Dinner dragged on. By eight o’clock, my coworker, who had tagged along as a wingwoman, dragged us to a movie. When I finally got into an Uber to head home, I checked my phone. It was past 11 PM. I had five missed calls. All from Arthur. He had called exactly once every hour. Controlled, but borderline obsessive. He had left one text: Harper, where are you? I’m worried. When I unlocked the front door, I froze. Arthur was sitting on the hardwood floor in the dark. He was soaking wet. He was staring blankly ahead, the faint streetlights casting harsh shadows over his sharp cheekbones, making him look devastatingly frail and abandoned. I dropped my bag and rushed over, grabbing a towel from the bathroom to dry him off. “What happened to you?” “I slipped in the bathroom,” he said softly, his voice trembling. “My knee gave out. I couldn’t get up. I’m sorry, Harper. I’m such a burden to you.” “Where does it hurt?” I panicked, touching his leg. His knee was deeply bruised. The guilt was suffocating. I should never have silenced my phone for a stupid movie. I knew I had a blind man at home relying on me. How could I have been so selfish? I looked down at his damp hair. “I’m so sorry. I got held up.” Arthur shook his head slightly. “Where were you?” “…I met up with some friends.” Arthur’s eyelashes fluttered. “It sounds like you had a wonderful time. That’s good. I truly hate the idea that my broken body is ruining your normal life.” “You’re not broken! And you’re not ruining anything!” Arthur offered a pale, tragic smile. “Aren’t I? When you didn’t come home, I thought… I thought you had finally gotten sick of dealing with me.” He let out a self-deprecating laugh. “I was just… so lonely. I can’t see anything, the apartment was so quiet, and I panicked. That’s why I called you so many times. I’m sorry. I have no right to demand your time when you’ve already been so generous to me.” I stared at him in the dark. I took a deep breath, making a decision. “Stay here. I’ll go get you some dry clothes.” When I walked into his bedroom, I pulled out my phone and sent a polite rejection text to the guy from accounting. I told him I had personal commitments and no time to date. He took it gracefully, and we deleted each other’s numbers. I looked at the screen, a bitter smile crossing my face. I had to admit the truth to myself: Arthur Harrison was a lethal weapon, and I was completely defenseless against him. One slight frown, one tremble in his voice, and my vaunted self-control shattered into a million pieces. 10 Back in the bedroom. Arthur struggled to stand, leaning heavily on me before collapsing onto the edge of his bed. “I’m embarrassing myself,” he muttered. He fumbled weakly with his soaked shirt. “It’s fine. I can dress myself.” I couldn’t stand watching him struggle. “Let me help.” Before he could object, I added quickly, “Don’t worry, Mr. Harrison. I’ll blindfold myself. I won’t look.” “…Okay.” I grabbed a sheer silk scarf from my dresser and tied it over my eyes. It wasn’t until I had it knotted that I realized the fabric was too thin—I could still see the blurry outline of his body perfectly. But it was too late to change it now without making a scene. I gently took his hand and brought it up to my face, letting him feel the knot at the back of my head. “See? I’m completely blindfolded. You’re safe.” His pants were soaked through and heavy. With Arthur sitting on the edge of the bed, I had to step into his space, practically wrapping my arms around his waist to shimmy the wet denim down his hips. To get them past his calves, I had to kneel on the floor. Because my vision was obscured by the scarf, I was entirely focused on the stubborn denim. I didn’t realize how close I was. My face was inches from his lap; my warm breath was hitting his bare skin. As I pulled the jeans down, Arthur’s voice drifted down from above me. “Harper, you really can’t see anything right now?” “Nothing,” I lied. He let out a soft laugh. “It’s a strange feeling, isn’t it? I’ve dragged you into the dark with me.” I opened my mouth to laugh, but the sound died in my throat. Through the sheer veil of the scarf, I saw his dark grey boxer briefs. And the very prominent, very distinct shape pressing against the fabric. Arthur’s voice didn’t waver. He sounded casual, relaxed, perfectly normal. “It’s the weekend tomorrow. That little menace Jaxon is going to come barging in here. I wonder if he actually misses me, or if he’s just skipping track practice.” “Yeah,” I squeaked out automatically, my brain entirely offline. I blinked hard behind the silk. I wasn’t hallucinating. The shape was definitively growing. Suddenly, my fingers, which were resting near his waistband, felt like they were on fire. The skin-on-skin contact felt electric and terrifyingly intimate. I bit my lip, slowly pulling the denim the rest of the way down. My mind was screaming in panic. Do I act natural? Do I stop? If I stop, he’ll know I can see! Maybe it’s just biology, I rationalized wildly. Maybe it’s involuntary! Maybe he doesn’t even realize it’s happening! He was such a gentleman. He had almost starved to death rather than wake me up. If he knew I was kneeling directly in front of his raging erection, he’d probably throw himself out the window out of pure shame! My heart hammered against my ribs as I finally got the jeans past his knees. Suddenly, a large hand clamped down over mine, stopping me. “I can do the rest. Thank you.” I nearly collapsed with relief. I handed him the dry sweatpants and stepped back. As he pulled them up, he paused, clearing his throat lightly. “You haven’t taken the blindfold off yet.” He sounded almost bashful. “Why don’t you leave it on for a bit? We can just talk for a while. Two blind people sitting in the dark.” I sat down heavily in the desk chair, my face burning like a furnace. “Okay.” For a long time, neither of us said a word. Two people, in the dark, harboring terrifying secrets. It wasn’t until the swelling in his sweatpants finally, agonizingly subsided that Arthur lifted his head and, with that same perfect smile, asked me what I wanted to do for breakfast. Adults truly are spectacular liars.

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On the day I gave birth, I watched with my own eyes as my nanny swapped my newborn baby with her own. I pretended not to notice. For eighteen years, the nanny’s son lived under my roof, eating the finest food, wearing the best clothes, and enjoying every luxury my wealth could buy. He eventually graduated at the top of his class and secured a full-ride scholarship to an Ivy League university. Meanwhile, I stood by and watched the nanny micro-manage my “son’s” life, constantly beating, verbally abusing, and humiliating him. On the day of his graduation party, the nanny burst into the ballroom, holding a DNA test report to crash the celebration. “Toby is my biological son!” she screamed. “It’s time we swap them back!” I curled my lips into a smile. “Sure.” “Mrs. Vance, I bought the cake Toby wanted, and your favorite desserts too. I’ve put them in the fridge.” Brenda, the nanny, had a flattering smile plastered across her face. Whenever she looked at Toby, her eyes practically overflowed with deep, maternal affection. Ever since I brought the baby home from the hospital, she had poured her heart and soul into him. It was as if she wanted to give him the entire world. If Toby wanted something, she would make sure he got it instantly. Whether it was gourmet food or expensive toys. Even Richard was starting to worry that Toby would end up spoiled and entitled. But I knew the truth. Brenda just wanted her own son to live the best possible life and enjoy every luxury. I didn’t expose her. I just nodded and watched her put the cake in the fridge. Behind her stood a small, scrawny boy dressed in patched-up, oversized clothes. He had a thin, hollow face and sunken eyes. He looked much smaller and weaker than other kids his age. This was my “son.” Brenda had legally named him Lucas, but she only ever called him “Trash.” As Lucas walked into the kitchen, Brenda slapped him hard across the face. “Where are your manners? Didn’t I teach you to greet people when you walk in?” Just then, Toby ran down the stairs. Before he could even speak, Brenda rushed over to him, her voice dripping with sweetness. “Toby, sweetie, do you want some cake?” “Thanks, Brenda. Can you plate it for me, please?” He flashed a bright, sunny smile that could melt anyone’s heart. Brenda’s face lit up with joy. She immediately grabbed the cake, plated it, and even set the fork down perfectly for him. Once she was done, she turned back to her trembling biological son standing in the corner. She kicked him hard in the shin. “Why are you standing there looking like a kicked puppy? Get back to your room! Just looking at you ruins my day!” Lucas fell to the floor, his head hitting the hardwood with a dull thud. Tears welled up in his eyes. But he didn’t cry. He scrambled back up immediately, wiping his eyes with his sleeve. Even Toby looked startled by the violence. But Lucas just stood in front of Toby, bowing slightly. “I’m sorry, Toby. I’m sorry, Mom.” Clearly, he was used to this treatment. He knew exactly what to do to quiet Brenda’s rage. I was used to it too. After all, Brenda lived with us. In the beginning, she only beat Lucas behind closed doors. But once she did it in front of me and realized I didn’t care, she stopped hiding it. She would find any excuse to hit him right in front of my face. Even for something as trivial as not saying hello. And Lucas had learned to apologize instantly. 0

My husband, Richard, walked in just in time to see Lucas apologizing, a fresh bruise swelling on his forehead. Richard’s face darkened instantly. “What the hell do you think you’re doing? Even if he is your kid, you shouldn’t be beating him like that in front of Toby!” Was he worried about Lucas? Of course not. He was worried about Toby. He was terrified Toby would be corrupted by seeing such violence. “Yes, of course, Mr. Vance. I’m sorry. The brat just has no manners, so I had to teach him a lesson. Toby is so polite and cultured. This trash isn’t worthy to even breathe the same air as him.” Brenda smiled obsequiously, then glared venomously at Lucas. The boy shrank back two steps, his face turning pale. He huddled in the corner like a frightened bird, not daring to make a sound. Brenda rolled her eyes at him, then turned back to Toby with a beaming smile. “Toby, tomorrow is your first day of preschool, right? Should I pack some homemade cookies and snacks for you to take?” Toby nodded, offering a sweet, innocent smile. “Thanks, Brenda.” To him, this was just the nanny being nice. He didn’t think anything of it. Hearing this, Lucas cautiously reached out and tugged at Brenda’s apron, his voice trembling with hope. “Mom… I want to go to preschool too…” It hit me then. Lucas and Toby were born on the same day. They should have been starting school together. Even if it was just preschool. But standing next to Toby, Lucas looked a full head shorter. If someone told me he was only two years old instead of four, I would have believed them. “Preschool? Who do you think you are? You think you’re royalty? Kids where I come from play in the dirt, they don’t go to fancy prep-schools! You’ve got cheap blood but rich desires!” With that, Brenda began kicking and punching Lucas again. Lucas couldn’t hold it in anymore. He burst into loud, agonizing wails that echoed through the entire house. Richard rushed over to stop her, and Toby tried to block her too. I was the only one who sat there, coldly watching the circus unfold. Worried she might scare Toby, Brenda grabbed Lucas by his leg and dragged him down the hallway into the nanny’s quarters. The next morning, Toby put on his little backpack, and Brenda escorted him to the car. Richard noticed the lack of a shadow behind Brenda today. “Where’s your boy? Are you really not sending him to preschool?” “Mr. Vance, I appreciate the thought, but Lucas is a country boy. He doesn’t belong in a city school. I’ll send him back to the country to study when he’s older. You know my ex-husband was an absolute monster. He beat me constantly. Every time I look at Lucas, I just see that beast’s face…” Brenda’s eyes welled with tears as she spoke. Richard didn’t want to hear it. We had hired Brenda because she was a hard worker. When we found out she was pregnant, we didn’t fire her because we knew her husband was a piece of trash. The man drank, gambled, and smoked. And when he got drunk, he beat his wife. If Brenda didn’t make money, he would have beaten her to death. … After Richard and Toby drove off, Brenda and I walked back into the living room. As soon as we stepped inside, we saw Lucas kneeling on the floor, scrubbing the tiles. His tiny body was hunched over. His hands were too small to even wring the rag dry. Yet, he carefully and meticulously wiped down every single inch of the floor. If you looked closely, you could see sweat pouring down his face, and his leg was visibly twitching. 0

It must have been from the beating yesterday. I turned on my heel and walked away without hesitation, pretending I saw nothing. By the afternoon, when Toby was brought home, Brenda was the first to rush to the door to fuss over him. Toby answered her patiently, but the scrape on his cheek was hard to ignore. “Toby, sweetie, your face…” Brenda panicked, her voice laced with genuine terror. “I just tripped and fell.” Toby didn’t care. He knew that when you fall, you just get back up. It was no big deal. But Brenda was hysterical. “How did you fall? Are you hurt anywhere else?” She turned to me, her voice accusing. “Mrs. Vance, Toby is your child! How can you be so calm? Don’t you care about him at all?” I raised an eyebrow. “Kids fall and get scraped up all the time. He’s not made of glass. Your own son gets hurt every single day, and I don’t see you losing your mind over it.” Brenda snapped. “How can you compare Lucas to Toby? What is he even—” Realizing what she was about to say, Brenda cut herself off, her voice turning timid. “Mrs. Vance, I’m sorry. Please don’t mind what I just said. I’m just so worried about Toby. What if some bully picked on him at preschool? He’s been raised so delicately. Lucas is built tough; he can’t be compared to Toby.” Just then, Richard walked in and frowned. “If you gave Lucas even a fraction of the care you give Toby, he wouldn’t look like a walking skeleton. Where is he anyway?” “The boy was tired. He’s fast asleep in his room. Should I go wake him up?” Richard shook his head. “No, let him sleep.” Brenda grumbled, “He’s just spoiled. Sleeping at this hour… he needs a good beating.” Before she could say more, Toby tugged on my hand. “Mom, I’m hungry.” Brenda immediately chimed in, “I’ll go set the table right away!” She had prepared dinner hours ago, anticipating Toby would be hungry after school. I didn’t mind. I let her play the doting mother. It was almost as if by jumping in, she could pretend Toby had been calling out to her. After dinner, Brenda happily tucked Toby into bed. The next morning, Lucas was still nowhere to be seen. I finally told Brenda to go check on him. It turned out the boy had been burning with a high fever all night. By the time the doctor arrived, the fever had been running for too long. The doctor warned us that the prolonged high fever had caused permanent brain damage. He would suffer from involuntary tremors and spasms for the rest of his life. Brenda looked at Lucas with nothing but disgust. I stood beside her, my face completely expressionless. Why did I suddenly ask about Lucas? Because I wanted this game to become much more interesting, of course. How could he leave the stage so early? After that, Brenda continued to dote on Toby while her abuse of Lucas grew more frequent and severe. Because of his neurological damage, Lucas often lost control of his bladder. This accidents only earned him more brutal beatings from Brenda. I watched Brenda look at Toby with eyes full of deep, obsessive love, and I couldn’t help but smile. Keep spoiling him, Brenda. I can’t wait to see the end of this show. 0

Over the next fourteen years, Brenda dutifully took care of Toby’s every need. She wanted to do absolutely everything for him. Meanwhile, my “son” Lucas was sent away to a run-down farm in the Midwest just a few days after his fever broke. I heard his life there was miserable. Whenever Richard occasionally brought him up, Brenda would wave her hand in disgust. “Lucas isn’t cut out for school anyway. Unlike Toby, he’s only good for farm work.” And then she would launch into complaints about her abusive ex-husband and how hard her life was. Eventually, Richard stopped asking. The next time we saw Lucas was at Toby’s high school graduation party. Toby had graduated at the top of his class, got accepted into Harvard, and was awarded a massive scholarship. I had thrown a lavish, high-profile celebration at a luxury hotel to celebrate his achievement. But Brenda, who had taken a few days off, chose this exact day to show up. Behind her stood a trembling teenage boy. He was sun-baked, emaciated, and cringed at every sound. Brenda walked up to me and handed me a printed DNA report. “Mrs. Vance, I took Lucas to the clinic recently. I noticed his blood type didn’t make sense, so I did a DNA test. It turns out… he isn’t my son.” “The hospital made a mistake eighteen years ago. Lucas is your biological son. Toby is mine.” “No wonder I always loved Toby so much! It was the call of the blood.” “Now that we know the truth, we should swap them back, don’t you think?” Brenda rubbed her hands together anxiously, but her eyes locked onto Toby with a look of intense, greedy affection. Her eyes brimmed with tears, playing the part of a long-suffering, emotional mother perfectly. The news was like a bomb dropping on the banquet hall. The guests instantly erupted into whispers. “How could a hospital make a mistake like that? Is there more to this story?” “This is hilarious. The Vances raised her son to be a Harvard scholar with a full ride, and now she comes to claim him? Talk about hitting the jackpot!” “Exactly! Toby is so well-bred, smart, and a talented pianist. That’s all thanks to Eleanor’s parenting.” … On one hand, you had an Ivy League-bound scholar, a decorated pianist with a bright future. On the other hand, you had an uneducated, illiterate kid from a farm who trembled constantly and had to wear adult diapers. Anyone with a brain knew who to choose. “Sure. Let’s swap them back,” I said, a slight smile playing on my lips. The room fell into stunned silence. Even Brenda stared at me in disbelief. She never expected me to agree so easily. Richard immediately rushed to my side. “Eleanor! Do you even hear yourself?” “You’re going to hand Toby over to her based on some random piece of paper she brought in?” “What if this is fake? She hasn’t even done a test with Toby yet!” Toby looked at me, his eyes wide with hurt. “Mom… I’m your son!” “No, you’re not. I watched you get swapped in the nursery. Toby and I share no biological connection.” I shook my head, pulling out my own copy of a DNA report. Richard’s face turned incredibly pale. He shook his head violently, refusing to accept it. “But you always said Toby was your entire world! You almost died giving birth to him! You begged the doctors to save him over you!” “How could you just stand there and watch your own baby get swapped?” “You’re just angry, right? You’re saying this to hurt me, aren’t you?” He looked at me with begging eyes, desperate for the answer he wanted to hear. Under the weight of everyone’s stares, I shook my head firmly. “No. I saw the swap happen with my own eyes.” The moment the words left my mouth, a loud slap echoed through the room. Richard’s face twisted with rage, a face that slowly merged with the one in my memories. Instead of getting angry, I laughed. “What? Are you panicked now?” “Are you insane? You watched your own son get swapped and said nothing?” “What kind of mother does that? She’s laughing! She must be a psychopath!” Even Lucas looked at me. He ran over and grabbed my arms. “Why? Why did you do this to me? If you didn’t love me, why did you give birth to me?” He shook my shoulders frantically, but I shoved him away with cold disgust. “Get away from me. You make me sick.” He fell hard onto the floor. I took a deep breath, my smile growing wider. Finally. The day I had been waiting for had arrived.

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My wedding was just around the corner, yet I received an engagement invitation from my arch-nemesis. She had publicly posted on her social media: “Sera, you’ve hated me for so many years. Now that we’ve both found our own happiness, I hope we can finally put the past behind us at my party.” I politely declined. There was absolutely no way in hell I was ever reconciling with her. The people in our social circle immediately began trash-talking me on Snapchat while coddling her. “What do you expect? Is Seraphina Vance ever capable of being a decent human being? Did you forget how she tried to steal your boyfriend back in college? Honestly, it’s better if she doesn’t show up!” “Exactly! Anyone who associates with a snake like Sera is just waiting to have their man stolen.” Instead of getting angry, my nemesis even apologized to everyone on my behalf. “Sera, sweetie, both my fiancé and I really wanted your blessing. We just want to move past the drama.” With that, she handed me a physical invitation. The moment I opened it, my mind went completely blank. The groom’s name printed on the card… wasn’t that my freeloading fiancé? “Fine! Since you want me there so badly, I promise I won’t disappoint you!” 1 Looking at the smug, triumphant smirk on Chloe Sterling’s face, I turned and walked away without saying a word. But only I knew that the elegant invitation card in my hand was already crumpled to pieces under my grip. I drove home in a fury. When I walked through the door, I saw Ethan Hayes busy assembling our gold-embossed wedding invitations at the dining table. Hearing the door, he looked up. A warm, sweet smile immediately spread across his face. “You’re back, babe! Hungry? What do you want to eat? I’ll whip something up for you right now.” He was already standing up to head to the kitchen. My gaze drifted down, landing on the table cluttered with wedding favors. Our wedding was in three weeks. Honestly, we could have easily hired a coordinator to handle all of this. But Ethan had insisted. He said it was *our* wedding, and that doing everything ourselves made it meaningful. Yet, this exact man—who acted as if I was his entire world—was named as the groom on my arch-nemesis Chloe’s engagement invitation. Could there really be such a ridiculous coincidence in this world? I didn’t buy it for a second. Thinking of the invitation in my bag, I decided to test him. “Ethan, Chloe invited me to her engagement party. It’s the day after tomorrow. If you’re free, why don’t you come with me?” The very next second after the words left my mouth. His reaction was incredibly defensive. “I can’t. I’m busy.” Realizing his tone was too sharp under my suspicious gaze, he quickly tried to smooth it over. “I mean… Chloe has always targeted you. She definitely has a hidden agenda!” “Plus, I have a business trip that day, so I won’t be there to protect you. I really think you shouldn’t go.” He kept rambling, adding excuse after excuse. But if my memory served me right, this was the first time Ethan had ever directly opposed me. Usually, he was a total yes-man, always putting me and my wishes before everything else. The obvious truth stared me in the face, making my chest feel incredibly heavy, like a physical weight was crushing my lungs. After a long pause, I cut him off and quietly replied, “Okay.” The moment I said it, I distinctly saw Ethan let out a massive sigh of relief. On the day of the party, however, I showed up at the luxury hotel right on time, invitation in hand. Chloe was standing at the entrance of the grand ballroom, wearing a custom crimson designer gown. With her flawless, radiant makeup and a sweet smile, she welcomed every guest. She looked like the happiest woman in the entire world. It was just an engagement party, but I heard that almost the entire elite social circle of the city had showed up. Before I even got close, I could hear the loud, flattering voices of her friends. “Chloe, this engagement is so sudden! You’re going to break so many hearts today.” “I know, right? You’ve been so mysterious about the groom. Is he super handsome?” “Are you kidding? If he wasn’t gorgeous, our Chloe wouldn’t even look at him!” Surrounded by the crowd, Chloe blushed cutely. “You’ll see him soon.” Then, she turned her head and met my eyes. Her smile widened instantly. “Sera! You actually came. I thought you’d ignore my invite.” She looked genuinely thrilled to see me. But I knew exactly what kind of disgusting malice was hidden beneath that sweet, innocent mask. I had absolutely no interest in playing “best friends” with her. She didn’t seem to mind my coldness, still gracefully gesturing for me to head inside. However, the flock of mean girls surrounding her weren’t about to let me off. They immediately stepped forward and blocked my path. “Seraphina Vance! I’m warning you. Chloe was nice enough to invite you because she’s a saint, but don’t you dare ruin this for her.” “If you try to cause any drama today, we will make sure you regret it.” Hearing this, Chloe immediately feigned a worried look and stopped them. “Guys, don’t say that. Sera wouldn’t do that.” “Chloe! Have you forgotten how she tried to steal your boyfriend in college? She has a history of being a homewrecker. Who knows what she’s planning today?” “Exactly. Look at her, dressed up like she’s trying to seduce—” The girl suddenly stopped mid-sentence. Sensing something off, I followed her gaze and realized she was staring intently at my wrist. Then, she asked in a loud, shocked voice, “Wait, why is that bracelet on your wrist?” I frowned, not immediately catching her drift. I snapped back, “It’s on my wrist because it’s mine. Why else?” Chloe stepped closer to me, her eyes wide with shock and disbelief. “You… you’re lying. That bracelet belongs to my fiancé!” 2 The guests nearby began to gather around us, their curious eyes pinning me down. Whispers broke out in the crowd. “What’s going on over there?” Seeing the audience grow, Chloe’s friends raised their voices even louder. They sneered and pointed at me. “Seraphina Vance, you are truly disgusting. Do you have a pathological need to steal other people’s things and men?” “Actually, let me correct myself. Do you just have an obsession with stealing everything that belongs to Chloe?” They stared at me like they were interrogating a criminal. Standing in the center of the drama, Chloe’s eyes welled up with tears, looking like the ultimate victim. At first, I thought she threw this engagement party just to humiliate me by showing off that she had stolen my fiancé. But now I realized it was much worse. Chloe wanted to completely ruin my reputation and destroy my life. My eyes darkened as I watched her look at me with a deeply hurt expression. “Why, Sera? Why did I sincerely invite you to celebrate my happiness, only for you to do something like this?” “I don’t know how you managed to steal that bracelet, but if you hand it back right now, I promise I’ll pretend none of this ever happened.” The moment she finished, one of her loyal minions immediately barked, “Why should we let her off? If you ask me, we should call the police and have her arrested!” “Such a beautiful day, completely ruined by her presence. How pathetic!” I glanced at the two girls shouting the loudest. They were Chloe’s ultimate bootlickers. Everyone in the room was looking at me with absolute disgust. Thanks to Chloe’s years of rumors and manipulation, I had always been completely isolated in this social circle. This wasn’t my first time experiencing this kind of setup. I vividly remembered the first time she pulled this. We were in elementary school. Chloe accused me of stealing her favorite necklace. Back then, I was too young to do anything but cry and clumsily try to explain myself. But nobody, not even the teachers, believed a single word I said. As we grew older, her schemes got smarter. She plagiarized my essay, then turned around and told everyone I was the one who copied her. On the day I was scheduled to give a major presentation, she went into the system and deleted my entire slides deck. I couldn’t beat her at her dirty games, so I tried my best to just avoid her. But she was like a piece of cheap gum stuck to my shoe—no matter what I did, I couldn’t shake her off. Eventually, I gave up trying to fit in and stopped attending these social events altogether. Since she couldn’t frame me in person anymore, she started spreading rumors behind my back, painting me as a spoiled, arrogant, and tyrannical rich girl. I didn’t even notice when it happened, but suddenly, everyone started comparing me to her. They put her on a pedestal while dragging my name through the mud. The last major incident was the infamous “homewrecker” rumor from college. The absolute truth was that her boyfriend at the time had randomly blocked me in the hallway, confessing his love to me out of nowhere while saying a bunch of creepy things. I didn’t say a single word. I just rolled my eyes and walked away. Yet, the very next morning, photos of us standing in the hallway were plastered all over the campus forums. With Chloe fueling the fire, everyone began calling me a slut and slut-shaming me online. I didn’t bother to explain. First, because I couldn’t care less about what those idiots thought. Second, because I knew they wouldn’t believe me anyway. Though, after I slapped a few of those trolls with defamation lawsuits, everyone shut up pretty quickly. Coming back to reality, I heard someone snap at me. “Sera Vance, are you staying silent because you’re guilty?” I let out a cold, mocking laugh, looking straight at Chloe. “Since you guys are so confident that I stole this bracelet, go ahead. Call the cops.” Hearing this, the girl next to Chloe immediately unlocked her phone to dial 91

But just as she was about to press call, Chloe suddenly slapped the phone out of her hand, sending it clattering to the floor. 3 Chloe didn’t explain her actions to her friend. She just turned to me, looking incredibly distressed. “Sera, if the police actually arrest you, your reputation will be completely ruined.” “If you love this bracelet so much, I can just ask my fiancé to give it to you as a gift… but please, you can’t keep living your life stealing from others.” She spoke with such gentle concern, as if she actually cared about my future. I was so angry I almost laughed out loud. Reputation? Did I even have one left in this room? “You keep claiming this bracelet belongs to your fiancé. Do you have any actual proof?” I stared at her, curious to see how she’d lie her way out of this one. Without skipping a beat, she sobbed, “My fiancé wears this bracelet every single day. Since today is our engagement, I asked him to take it off so we could clean it. And suddenly, it magically appears on your wrist today of all days? Do you honestly think anyone believes that’s a coincidence?” “The truth is right here. I don’t even care about getting it back anymore, I just don’t want to see you ruin your life over your jealousy.” Looking at her playing the righteous, magnanimous saint, I chuckled softly. “Fine. Let’s wait until your fiancé gets here, and we can ask him ourselves how this bracelet ended up on my wrist.” This bracelet was indeed a gift from Ethan. But what Chloe didn’t know was that these were custom-made puzzle-lock couple’s bracelets. He had commissioned them specifically. The unique thing about these bracelets was that once they were locked onto your wrist, they couldn’t be taken off normally. The only way to unlock them was to bring both bracelets together, touching them for about ten seconds, and the magnetic lock would automatically release. And if I remembered correctly, when Ethan left the house this morning, his bracelet was still firmly locked on his wrist. Under my steady gaze, a flicker of panic flashed across Chloe’s eyes. So, despite her big talk, she wasn’t entirely confident either. I saw her mouth open, trying to say something to salvage the situation. But before she could speak, her angry minions lost their patience. One of them stepped forward and yelled: “Why are we wasting our breath on her? She’s just being stubborn. Let’s just rip it off her wrist!” “It’s not hers, period! Since her parents clearly didn’t teach her any manners, we’ll do it for them today!” With that shout, a few of the girls physically surrounded me. I was trapped and outnumbered. Within seconds, they grabbed my arms, pinning me down while trying to violently yank the bracelet off my wrist. But the bracelet was custom-sized to fit my wrist perfectly. Without the unique unlocking method, it was physically impossible to pull off. In no time, my skin was scraped raw and turning a painful, angry red. But they didn’t care about hurting me. They only cared about tearing the jewelry off. “Why is this stupid thing so tight? You bitch, what kind of trick did you use to lock this on?” “Just cooperate and you’ll suffer less!” Suddenly, a sharp pop echoed, followed by a searing flash of pain in my wrist. The intense pain brought tears to my eyes, and I began to struggle violently, trying to push them off me. With both of my hands pinned, I had no choice but to kick out blindly, trying to force them to let go. My foot connected with one of the girls in front of me. In response, they cursed loudly and shoved me hard onto the floor. My hair fell wildly over my face. My knees and elbows scraped against the hard floor, tearing the skin. I looked like an absolute mess. But nobody was looking at my injuries. Instead, everyone’s attention was drawn to my handbag, which had fallen and burst open when I was shoved down. The contents of my bag were scattered across the floor. Among the clutter, a few elegant, gold-embossed cards were glaringly obvious. “What is this?” “Why… why does this wedding invitation have your name and my fiancé’s name on it?!” Chloe rushed over and picked up one of the cards, her voice trembling with shock. 4 Those were the wedding invitations for my upcoming wedding with Ethan. I had kept a few in my bag to mail out later. Now, Chloe held them up for everyone to see. Her dramatic gasp drew the entire room closer. Everyone crowded around us. The girl standing next to Chloe snatched one of the cards and read the contents out loud so even the people in the back could hear. A terrible, sinking feeling settled deep in my stomach. But in my current state, I couldn’t physically fight them to get the cards back. I could only sit on the floor, forced to listen to her mockingly read the words while the crowd’s judging, disgusted stares rained down on me like daggers. “And here she was pretending she didn’t care about Chloe’s man! She literally printed fake wedding invitations! Sera Vance, are you seriously going to deny that you’re trying to steal Chloe’s fiancé now?” “Writing someone else’s fiancé’s name on your own wedding invitation… how desperate and sick do you have to be?” “If someone did this to my man, I’d throw up for three days straight.” “Sera, are you genuinely delusional? Do you seriously hallucinate that everything Chloe has belongs to you? Do you have no shame?” My standing in this circle was non-existent. Which was exactly why I had never planned on inviting any of these people to my wedding in the first place. Ethan had agreed, saying that our wedding should be about our happiness, not about showy rituals. We only wanted people who genuinely loved and supported us to be there. I never imagined that this beautiful sentiment would be twisted into proof of my “obsession” and “delusion.” They even started whispering that the engagement photos inside were probably photoshopped. They only believed what their warped minds wanted to believe. They only believed Chloe. Anything I said would just be white noise to them. To them, I was the ultimate villain. As the crowd’s insults grew louder, Chloe suddenly raised her hand. “Enough!” She wiped away a fake tear, looking incredibly brave as she looked down at me. “No matter what your sick goal is, Sera, you won’t break us apart. I trust my fiancé.” “He’ll be here any minute. Once he arrives, the truth will come to light.” Hearing Chloe’s absolute confidence. I didn’t need to be a genius to realize that she and Ethan had already hooked up behind my back. Simply put, Ethan was going to take her side. I was too exhausted to analyze how or why he betrayed me. The throbbing pain in my sprained wrist was getting unbearable. I was genuinely worried that if I didn’t go to the hospital soon, I’d end up with permanent nerve damage. I reached for my phone on the floor, intending to call the police. But before my finger could even touch the screen, a bucket of ice water was violently splashed all over me. My phone screen was instantly covered in water, making the touch screen completely unresponsive. I gasped from the freezing shock and looked up. One of Chloe’s close friends was standing over me, dropping an empty ice bucket onto the floor. She sneered down at me, suddenly pulling a small Swiss army knife out of her purse. “Are you awake now, Sera Vance?” “Since you’re awake, I think it’s time someone taught you a lesson on how to behave.” “Aside from your pretty face, you’re inferior to Chloe in every single way. You’re nothing but a cheap whore who uses her looks to seduce other women’s men.” She took a slow step toward me, playing with the small blade. “I’d be doing the world a favor by ruining that pretty little face of yours today!” Chloe was insane, and her friends were completely unhinged. No girl would ever be indifferent to having her face mutilated. I tried to scramble backward to escape, but my sprained wrist gave out, and I couldn’t get up. Chloe stood in the background, whining, “Guys, please don’t do this,” while simultaneously listing all my “crimes” to egg them on, ending with a hypocritical, “Aren’t we being too harsh on her?” She had absolutely no intention of stopping them. This was exactly the bloody show she wanted to see. Seeing the girl raise the knife, aiming it right at my face, I forced myself to sound cold and steady. “If you touch me, I promise you will spend the rest of your life in prison!” “Oh, please! Who are you trying to scare? I’d love to see how you’re going to make me regret this!” “Did you honestly think anyone in this room is going to help you?” But just as her words echoed through the room, the loud, aggressive roar of multiple luxury sports car engines sounded outside the venue. Everyone froze and turned toward the glass entrance. A fleet of black luxury sedans pulled up, and a tall, incredibly handsome man in a tailored suit stepped out, his face carved of pure ice. “What the hell is going on here?”

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#### My mother always said the city was too expensive to raise two girls. So, she dumped me at Grandma’s place in the countryside and kept my sister by her side. Sixteen years later, I am the CEO of a multinational conglomerate, preparing to acquire my sister’s company. On the due diligence report, her profile reads: “Only child. Loving parents. Wealthy family.” It turns out, I was never considered part of that family. *** During the summer when I was eight, I finally figured something out. My mother wasn’t broke. She just didn’t want to spend a single dime on me. That day, Grandma took me to the city to see a doctor. I had a low-grade fever, my head felt heavy and dizzy, and I sat in the very back row of the bus, pressing my face against the window, watching the brick buildings rush past. Grandma kept muttering next to me, saying how hard my mother had it in the city, that I needed to be understanding and not cause any trouble for her. I nodded and said okay. But the moment we got off near the shopping mall, I spotted her instantly. My mother. She was wearing a floral sundress I had never seen before. The fabric looked silky and shimmered under the sun. Her hair was styled in soft, bouncy curls cascading over her shoulders. She looked more beautiful than the women on the glossy department store posters. Standing right next to her was a little girl. She was just as tall as me, just as thin, and shared the exact same face. But that girl was wearing a pink princess dress with a puffed-out skirt that bloomed like a flower. On her feet were shiny white patent leather shoes, sparkling with tiny crystals. She was cradling a doll that was bigger than my head—a golden-haired, blue-eyed doll dressed in the exact same pink dress she wore. My mother knelt, gently wiping the girl’s mouth with a soft handkerchief. Her movements were so tender, as if she were handling a priceless treasure. And then, my mother smiled. It was a smile I had never seen on her face before. There was no impatience, no forced warmth, no furrowed brows. Her eyes curved into crescents, her lips parted, and her entire face seemed to light up. I tugged at Grandma’s faded sleeve, my throat bone-dry. “Grandma, is that Mom?” Before Grandma could answer, my mother looked up and caught sight of me. Her face changed instantly. That expression is something I’ve remembered for sixteen long years. It wasn’t joy, and it wasn’t pity. It was sheer panic. It was the look of someone who had just seen something that wasn’t supposed to exist. Like she was looking at a ghost. She grabbed the little girl’s hand and spun around. She walked away so fast she was practically running. The little girl stumbled as she was dragged along, nearly dropping her doll. She looked back once—just once. Her eyes were filled with pure confusion. I wanted to run after them. I wanted to scream, *Mom!* But my legs felt like they were set in concrete. I couldn’t move an inch. My throat felt like it was being squeezed tight, and I couldn’t squeeze out a single word. Grandma wrapped her arms around me. “Don’t go,” Grandma whispered, her voice muffled against my hair. “The city is too expensive. You have to be understanding of your mother.” That night, I sat in the dirt yard of Grandma’s small cottage, thinking for a very long time. The city was expensive. So, my sister got to wear princess dresses while I only got her hand-me-downs—sweaters with frayed cuffs and jeans that were always inches too short. So, my sister had her mouth wiped gently, while I wiped my face with my sleeve, leaving dark smudges behind. So, my sister got to stay by my mother’s side, and I didn’t. We were twins. But only one of us was allowed to be loved. The other was just a spare. I didn’t understand what “spare” meant before I was eight. But after that day, I understood it completely. Grandma’s cottage was in a dusty, remote town in Kentucky, miles away from the nearest county center. It was a tiny, old house with three rooms and a fence made of dried cornstalks that rattled whenever the wind blew. Grandma kept two pigs, a dozen chickens, and three goats. After I arrived, there was one more mouth to feed. Grandma never complained. She just started waking up even earlier. At four in the morning, while the sky was still pitch black, Grandma would gently shake me awake. We would light the stove, feed the animals, chop the feed, and boil oatmeal. The oatmeal was so watery you could see your own reflection in the bowl. Grandma would scoop the thick parts into my bowl and drink the watery broth herself. When I tried to push it back, she would just force it back to me. “A growing girl needs her strength,” she’d say. But no matter how much I ate, I didn’t seem to grow much. My clothes were always Serena’s old things, washed so many times they were practically gray and covered in patches. The pants were always too short, leaving my ankles bare to the biting cold. My shoes were cheap clearance items Grandma bought from the local flea market for two dollars. The soles were paper-thin, and my feet would ache terribly after a long walk. Winter was always the hardest. The wind cut through the gaps in our thin walls like a knife. I would curl into a tight ball under the blankets, shivering. Grandma would drape her own heavy wool coat over me and go sit by the fireplace to stay warm. I would run my fingers over that coat. It was stiff, and the filling inside had bunched up into hard lumps. I asked Grandma once why Mom never sent me a new winter coat. Grandma was quiet for a long time before she spoke. “The city is expensive, Patience. Your mother is doing her best.” I never asked again. But in my heart, I wondered—was Serena’s coat new? It must have been. That pink dress she wore at the mall was brand new. The fabric was so soft, the color so vibrant. It was nothing like the stiff, scratchy, faded rags I wore. During Christmas, my mother brought Serena back to the countryside. I stood in the yard, watching a clean SUV pull up. I watched my mother step out, and then I watched Serena climb down from the passenger side. Serena was wearing a bright red winter jacket with a fluffy white faux-fur trim around the hood. She looked like a little princess straight out of a movie. On her feet were pristine Ugg boots, also lined with soft white fur. She stood beside our mother, looking at me timidly with bright, clean eyes. My mother glanced at me and said, “You’ve grown.” And then, she ignored me. She went inside to talk to Grandma. I heard them talking about how high the rent was in the city, how much Arthur’s salary was, and how Serena was attending a private bilingual kindergarten that cost thousands of dollars a term. I crouched in the yard, listening to those words drift out of the window, each one drilling into my ears. Serena walked over and stood in front of me. She tilted her head, studying me for a long time. “Are you my sister?” *** ####

I didn’t say anything. “Mom said you live with Grandma because the apartment in the city is too small for all of us.” I still kept my mouth shut. She reached into her pocket, pulled out a piece of candy, and held it out to me. “Here.” I looked down at the candy. It was a Werther’s Original. I recognized the shiny gold wrapper. I had seen them in the glass display case at the town’s small convenience store. I had never tasted one. I reached out, took it, and clutched it tightly in my fist. “Why aren’t you eating it?” she asked. “Saving it,” I muttered. She gave an “oh,” watched me for another moment, and then ran back inside the house. That night, I carefully unwrapped the candy and took a tiny lick. It was so sweet. So sweet that tears nearly welled up in my eyes. But I couldn’t bear to finish it. I wrapped it back up in the gold foil and tucked it deep into my pocket. I kept that candy for a very long time. I kept it until it melted, sticking to the wrapper so badly that it could never be opened again. When I was nine, the town’s elementary school opened a new term. Grandma took me to register. When the teacher asked for my name, Grandma said, “Patience. Patience Evans.” The teacher finished writing it down, looked at me, and sighed. “This child is too thin. She needs more nutrition.” I lowered my head and remained silent. School became the happiest part of my life. The classroom was warm, there were chairs to sit on, and I didn’t have to do chores. When the teacher spoke, I listened with all my might, refusing to miss a single word. Those letters, those numbers—they were like treasures to me. Once they entered my mind, they never left. At the end of the school year, I ranked first in the entire district. Grandma was overjoyed. She practically bowed to my teacher in gratitude. The teacher called me over, patted my head, and said, “This girl is brilliant. Make sure she stays in school, she’ll go far.” Grandma nodded eagerly, her face lighting up. “Yes, of course. I’ll make sure of it.” But when the next term started, we couldn’t scrape together enough money for the school fees and book costs. Grandma had to sell five of her chickens and borrow twenty dollars from a neighbor just to pay the fees. That night, Grandma sat by the fireplace and let out a long sigh. “Your mother didn’t send any money this month.” I said nothing. “She said the city is expensive right now. She asked us to wait a little longer.” I watched the flames flicker in the hearth. The light cast deep shadows over Grandma’s face, making her wrinkles look even deeper. “Grandma, I don’t need to go to school anymore.” Grandma immediately smacked my shoulder. “Stop talking nonsense! If you don’t go to school, what will you do? End up like me, digging in the dirt for the rest of your life?” I shut my mouth. But in my mind, I wondered—was Serena going to school? Of course she was. She went to a private bilingual school that cost thousands. My mother didn’t hesitate to spend money on her. I went to a run-down public school that cost eighty dollars a term, and Grandma had to sell her livestock for it. That was the difference. From the very beginning, we were never the same. When I was twelve, Grandma fell ill. She coughed constantly. A deep, hacking cough that kept her awake all night. When I came home from school, I found her lying in bed, her face pale and yellow, her lips completely white. The stove was cold, and there was no food in the kitchen. I ran to the neighbor’s house, and they helped me call my mother. When the call went through, I could hear loud noises on the other end—the sound of a TV playing, and Serena’s bright laughter. My mother’s voice came through the line, sharp and impatient. “What is it?” “Grandma is really sick,” I said. There was a brief silence on the other end. “I’m too busy right now, I can’t make it down. Take care of her for now, I’ll mail some money in a few days.” The line went dead. I stood by the neighbor’s phone, holding the receiver, listening to the dial tone for a very long time. That night, I lit the stove myself, boiled some broth, and helped Grandma take her medicine. After she drank it, she held my hand, tears rolling down her cheeks. “Patience… I’m so sorry. I’ve failed you.” I shook my head. “Grandma, don’t talk. Just sleep.” She fell asleep. I sat by her bed, looking at her pale face and her thin, bony hands. It felt like something heavy was slowly sinking to the very bottom of my chest. My mother’s “few days” turned into two weeks. By the time the money arrived, Grandma was already able to get out of bed. I went to the post office to collect it. Fifty dollars. The clerk looked at me and asked, “Is this all?” “Yes, that’s all,” I whispered. I stuffed the cash into my pocket and walked home. Halfway there, I stopped outside the convenience store. Through the glass counter, I saw the gold-wrapped candies. They were cheap, but I stood there for a long time before finally walking away without buying any. Grandma needed that money for her medicine. *** ####

When I was fourteen, a man came to our town to buy local medicinal roots and wild herbs. His name was Marcus Miller. He was in his forties, thin, wore glasses, and spoke very gently. He rented a small space in town to buy herbs like wild ginseng, goldenseal, and elderberries. He paid better than the local trading posts, and he always paid in cash on the spot. Grandma had spent her whole life foraging in the mountains and knew every plant. She took me up the trails, pointing them out one by one. *This is wild ginseng, you dig the root; this is elderberry, you harvest the fruit.* I had a sharp mind. I remembered everything after seeing it once. Grandma nodded and said, “Good. You can go up the mountains by yourself from now on.” That summer, I carried a heavy woven basket on my back, heading up the mountain trail before dawn and returning only after dark. I sold whatever I gathered to Marcus. He would weigh them, calculate the price, and hand me the cash. “You’re harvesting even more than your grandmother, kid,” he’d say with a smile. I would clutch the money tightly and hand it to Grandma. Grandma counted the bills, a rare smile appearing on her face. “This is enough for your school fees next year.” I smiled too. But that night, Grandma started coughing again. It was worse than before, a violent, unstoppable hacking that went on all night. I got up to rub her back, but she shook her head, wheezing that it was just her old ailment. Yet she grew thinner and paler by the day. Before school started, I took her to the county hospital. The doctor asked Grandma to wait outside and called me into his office. He looked at me and asked, “Are you her granddaughter?” “Yes,” I replied. He was quiet for a moment, then sighed. “Go home and start preparing.” “Preparing for what?” I asked, my voice trembling. He didn’t answer. But I understood. On the way back, Grandma kept insisting she was fine, that it was just a minor bug. I supported her frail body, unable to say a single word. The winter I turned fifteen, Grandma passed away. Before she closed her eyes, she reached out, her vision already gone, searching for me. “Patience…” I pressed my face against her cold cheek. “Grandma, I’m here. I’m right here.” “Patience, remember… you have to live well… live well and show them all…” I nodded, my tears spilling onto her face. “I know you’ve had a hard life… I’m sorry I couldn’t do more for you…” “Don’t say that, Grandma,” I sobbed. “You’re going to get better.” She weakly shook her head, her hand slowly losing its grip. “Your mother… she is cold-hearted. But don’t waste your life hating her… hating someone is too exhausting… don’t…” Before she could finish, her hand fell limp. I knelt by the bed, calling her name over and over until my voice went hoarse, until no more tears would come. Grandma never answered me again. After she was gone, I couldn’t stay in that town anymore. My mother returned for the funeral. She dressed in black, but there were barely any tears on her face. Serena didn’t come; my mother said she was preparing for her high school entrance exams and couldn’t afford to miss class. After the funeral, my mother sat in the quiet cottage, looking at me. “Come back to the city with me.” I stared at her. “Your grandmother is gone. How are you going to survive out here on your own?” “Okay,” I said. That day, I packed my few belongings, tucking Grandma’s photo into my pocket. She didn’t leave much behind—just a few old clothes, a pair of worn-out shoes, and a small metal tin. Inside the tin was three hundred dollars I had saved from foraging, and that old, melted candy wrapper. I took the candy wrapper with me. The day we drove into the city, a light drizzle was falling. I sat in the back of the SUV, watching the rural town slowly shrink in the distance, watching Grandma’s small cottage get smaller and smaller until it became a tiny dot and vanished completely. My mother drove in silence, never saying a word to me. I pressed my forehead against the cool glass, tears silent as they slipped down my face, blending with the rain outside. In the city, I moved into my mother’s apartment. It was a spacious three-bedroom place, clean and modern. The living room had a plush sofa, a large TV, and a family portrait on the wall. In the photo, my mother wore a beautiful red dress, standing next to a man, with Serena standing beside them, smiling sweetly. I recognized the man’s face. There was a black-and-white photo of him on Grandma’s cabinet. My father. He had passed away years ago, and I barely remembered what he looked like. But in this portrait, he wore a tailored suit, his hair neatly combed, smiling warmly. Serena walked out of her room, stopping short when she saw me. She was much taller now than when she was eight, the exact same height as me. She was wearing comfortable silk loungewear, her long hair draped over her shoulders, her skin fair and flawless. She glanced at me, then at my mother, said nothing, and retreated back into her room. My mother pointed to a tiny door off the hallway. “You’ll sleep in there.” The room was incredibly small, fitting only a single mattress and a small plastic dresser. The window faced the brick wall of the adjacent building; even during the day, it was pitch black without the light on. I put my bag down, sat on the edge of the mattress, and stared at the window. There was nothing to see outside. Just a cold, gray brick wall. For dinner, my mother made three dishes: roasted chicken, steamed vegetables, and garlic shrimp. Serena sat across from me, her head down as she ate, never looking up to meet my eyes. My mother kept putting food onto Serena’s plate, piece after piece, saying, “Eat more, sweetie, you’re still growing.” She didn’t put a single piece on my plate. I reached out with my fork, taking a small piece of broccoli and placing it in my bowl, chewing slowly. The food was delicious. Much better than anything we had in the countryside. But I couldn’t taste a thing. That night, I lay on the small mattress, listening to the muffled sounds from the living room. The TV was murmuring, accompanied by laughter. Serena and my mother were watching a show together, sharing some private joke. I turned over, facing the wall. The wall was freezing cold. *** ####

After living there for two weeks, I noticed a lot of things. My sister’s name was Serena Sinclair. She attended the most prestigious private prep school in the city. Her grades were average, but my mother bragged about her to everyone she met. Her bedroom was three times the size of mine, complete with a study desk, a massive closet, and shelves overflowing with books and designer plush toys. There was no desk in my room. My mother told me to just make do for now and that we’d figure something out later. Every day when Serena came home from school, my mother would ask her what she wanted to eat. If Serena wanted takeout, my mother ordered it. If Serena wanted a specific dessert, my mother baked it. If Serena had no appetite, my mother would gently coax her to eat. Once, Serena caught a fever. My mother was frantic, driving her to the emergency room in the middle of the night and staying awake until dawn. When they returned the next morning, my mother’s eyes were red with exhaustion, yet she still smiled warmly, asking Serena if she wanted some homemade soup. It made me think of when Grandma was sick. When I called, my mother said she was too busy. When I told her Grandma was coughing blood, she just said she would mail money. And by the time the money arrived, the worst had already passed. As I sat in my dark room, staring at the gray brick wall outside, the truth finally clicked in my mind. She was never too busy. She just didn’t care. In the eight years I lived in that country town, my mother visited exactly twice. Once for Christmas, and once when Grandma was sick. Both times, she stayed for barely half a day before rushing off, claiming she had too many things to handle in the city. I actually believed her. I thought she was truly overwhelmed. Yet she had all the time in the world to watch TV with Serena, to cook her favorite meals, and to stay up all night at the hospital for a simple fever. She was only busy when it came to me. At dinner that night, my mother served baked salmon. Since Serena loved salmon, my mother plated the best fillets for her, murmuring about how healthy it was. I took a small piece of the tail end and ate quietly. Serena suddenly spoke up. “Mom, how long is she going to stay here?” My fork froze mid-air. My mother also paused. “What are you talking about? She’s your sister.” Serena rolled her eyes and didn’t say another word. I kept my head down, chewing my food slowly. The fish was dry and tasteless. But I didn’t say a word. When the school semester was about to start, my mother handed me an enrollment brochure for a local vocational school. “Your academic foundation is weak,” she said smoothly. “Even if you go to a regular high school, you won’t get into a decent university. It’s better to learn a practical trade so you can start working early.” I looked at the paper. Was my academic foundation weak? In our town, I was always at the top of my class. Granted, the curriculum in the city was different, and I had some catching up to do. But she had made this decision after only two weeks. How did she know I couldn’t get into a good college? I didn’t ask. There was no point. To get Serena into her elite private school, my mother had paid a twenty-thousand-dollar donation, claiming it was an investment in her daughter’s future. But for me? The trade school was free, and it would get me out of her house and into a job faster. I sat in my dark room all night. The next morning, I packed my bag and walked to the address Marcus Miller had given me. Marcus had stopped coming to our town a year ago to open his own wholesale herb and spice warehouse in the city. Before he left, he had written down his address and told me, *Patience, if you ever need a place to go, come find me.* When I found his shop, he was busy sorting dried herbs. He froze when he saw me standing there, then a warm smile spread across his face. “Look at you! You’ve grown so tall, kid.” “Marcus,” I said quietly, “I want to work.” He paused, looking at my small bag. “What happened?” “I need to earn my own living.” He stared at me for a long time, then nodded without asking further questions. “Alright. I need an assistant anyway. You can stay in the back room. I’ll cover your food and rent, and pay you eight hundred dollars a month.” “Thank you,” I said. That evening, I sent a text message to my mother: *I’m moving into the trade school dorms. Don’t worry about me.* She replied with a brief: *Okay. Keep in touch.* I unpacked my things in the tiny back room of Marcus’s warehouse, taping Grandma’s photo and that old, melted candy wrapper to the wall. As I closed the door, I felt a weight lift from my chest. I was finally free of that cold, gray wall. *** ####

The warehouse was located in an old industrial district of Chicago. It had a storefront in the front and a small living quarters in the back. Marcus lived in one room, and I took the other. The room was tiny, even smaller than the one at my mother’s apartment. But through the window, I could see the open sky, the clouds, and the neighborhood cats sunning themselves on the rooftops. I smoothed out the sheets on my bed and touched Grandma’s photo. *I’m doing okay, Grandma. Don’t worry about me.* The shop was always busy, and Marcus had been struggling to manage it alone. Once I started helping, things became much smoother. I memorized the inventory instantly, kept the ledger flawlessly, and could calculate invoices faster than a computer. Whenever customers came in, I greeted them, weighed their orders, packed them, and handled the payments with ease. Sometimes Marcus would watch me and sigh. “Patience, you have a brilliant mind. You shouldn’t waste it in a dusty warehouse like this.” “Then what should I do?” I asked. “Go to college,” he said simply. I lowered my eyes and didn’t answer. A few days later, he placed a stack of papers in front of me. “Night classes. College prep courses. Take a look.” I scanned the tuition fees. The application was three hundred, prep books were two hundred, and a semester would cost over a thousand dollars. I pushed the papers back. “I can’t afford it.” “Don’t worry about the money,” Marcus said softly. I looked up at him in surprise. “I’ll pay for it,” he said. I froze. “Marcus… I can’t accept that.” “Don’t call me Marcus, call me Mr. Miller,” he chuckled, though his eyes were completely serious. “I tried to go to college back in the day, but I missed the cutoff score by two points. I’ve been stuck in this shop ever since. You have a real gift, Patience. Don’t let it go to waste.” Looking into his kind, earnest eyes, my throat tightened, and tears threatened to spill. “Mr. Miller, I…” “No arguments. Registration is tomorrow.” That night, I lay in bed, staring at the moonlight filtering through my window, tears quietly slipping into my pillow. *Grandma, someone is finally looking out for me.* The night school was on the other side of the city, a one-hour bus ride each way. I worked in the warehouse during the day, closed up at five, rushed to classes, and returned around ten at night. Then, I would study until two in the morning. Sometimes Marcus would get up in the middle of the night, see the light under my door, and bring in a cup of warm tea. “Don’t push yourself too hard. Your health comes first.” I would nod, drink the tea, and keep studying. On the day of my college entrance exams, Marcus closed the shop to drive me to the test center. He waited outside the entire time. I don’t remember what he asked when I walked out, only that he was smiling wider than I’ve ever seen. When the results came out, I scored in the top 0.1% of the state. Marcus’s hands shook as he held the printout. “I knew it! I knew you were a genius!” He bought a bottle of wine that night and drank half of it himself, his face flushed with joy, laughing until tears came to his eyes. I ended up getting a scholarship to a prestigious finance program at the state university. Marcus helped cover the remaining living expenses, insisting it was just a loan I could pay back later. “I will,” I promised. “With interest.” Throughout my four years of college, I worked constantly. I waitressed, handed out flyers, tutored, and worked retail. By the time graduation came, I had several corporate job offers. I chose a position as a junior analyst at a prominent global investment firm. On my first day, I called Marcus. “Mr. Miller, I got the job.” He let out a soft breath over the phone. “Work hard, kid. I’m proud of you.” “I’ll start paying you back next month,” I said. “There’s no rush,” he replied warmly. I stood outside the towering skyscraper downtown, looking up at the glass facade reflecting the blue sky. I thought of Grandma, the tiny country cottage, and the woman who had run away from me at the mall. All of that was in the past now. This was my new beginning. *** Ten years. How long is ten years? It is long enough for a trade school runaway to become a CFO. Long enough for a warehouse assistant to become the CEO of a multinational investment firm’s entire regional division. Long enough for old hurts to settle to the very bottom of one’s heart—unseen, until something stirs them up. In those ten years, I never went back to that apartment. My mother called a few times. She’d mention that Serena got into a decent college, that Serena graduated, that Serena got a job. I’d just reply with a polite, “That’s good.” “What are you doing these days?” she’d ask. “Just working,” I’d say. “Where?” “Out of town.” “Are you making enough?” “Enough to get by.” Eventually, she stopped asking, and I stopped answering. But I never forgot. I never forgot the way she looked at me like I was a monster when I was eight. I never forgot crouching in the dirt yard, listening to them laugh inside. I never forgot her telling me she was too busy while Grandma lay dying. I never forgot the tiny dark room, the gray brick wall, and the plate of food I was never offered. I kept every single memory locked away. This spring, my firm was handling a major acquisition. We were looking to acquire a rapidly rising local cosmetics brand called “Serene Beauty.” It was an e-commerce startup that had taken the market by storm. The founder was a young, self-made female entrepreneur, and the media loved her story. When the due diligence file was dropped onto my desk, I was in the middle of a meeting. My assistant whispered, “Ms. Sinclair, here is the file on the Serene Beauty acquisition.” “Thanks,” I murmured, not looking up. After the meeting, I returned to my office and opened the folder. On the very first page was the founder’s biography, complete with a professional headshot. My hand froze. *** ####

The face in the photo. At first glance, she looked incredibly like me. The eyes, the nose, the shape of the lips—everything carried a haunting familiarity. But her face was flawless, her lips parted in a soft, confident smile. It was the kind of smile that belonged only to someone who had been deeply loved and protected her entire life, someone who had never known want. I stared at the photo for a long time. Then, I scrolled down to read the text. “Serena Sinclair, 30, only child. Born to a loving, wealthy family. Graduated from state university, subsequently founded ‘Serene Beauty,’ currently serving as CEO…” *Only child.* *Loving family.* *Wealthy upbringing.* I read those words three times. So that was it. In their world, I had never existed. All those years, my mother had proudly told everyone that she only had one daughter. No wonder she had run away from me at the mall. She wasn’t afraid of me recognizing her. She was terrified that people would find out she had another daughter—one she had abandoned in the countryside for eight years. She was terrified that her perfect, elite life would be stained. I closed the file, stood up, and walked over to the floor-to-ceiling window. Outside, the Chicago skyline stretched out under a piercingly blue sky. I stood there in silence. My assistant knocked and walked in. “Ms. Sinclair, when would you like to schedule the meeting with the Serene Beauty team?” I didn’t turn around. “Set it for next week. I will personally lead the final negotiation.” The assistant looked surprised. “You’re going personally?” “Yes,” I said, my voice cold and steady. It had been sixteen years. I wanted to ask her face-to-face. *Did you ever hear about the sister you left behind in the dirt?* *** ####

The meeting was held in the main conference room at Serene Beauty’s headquarters. I brought three people with me: our head of legal, our financial director, and a project manager. Their side had about eight people, including the founders, the vice president, and various department heads. When I walked into the room, she stood up. Serena Sinclair. She was slightly thinner than in her photo, dressed in a sharp white blazer, her hair styled perfectly, wearing elegant, minimalist makeup. She smiled and extended her hand. “Ms. Sinclair, it is an honor to meet you.” I shook her hand briefly. “Likewise, Ms. Sinclair.” Her hand was incredibly soft and perfectly manicured, with pale pink nails. My hands were bare. These hands had chopped wood, fed livestock, dug up wild roots, washed dishes, and calculated millions of dollars on a keyboard. We took our seats, and the meeting began. My project manager ran through the presentation, outlining our valuation, integration plans, and future growth strategy. Her team raised questions, our legal counsel responded, and our finance director filled in the details. It was a standard, highly professional corporate negotiation. I remained quiet, observing. Serena didn’t say much either. But her eyes kept drifting back to my face—lingering for a moment, shifting away, and then returning again. I knew exactly what she was looking at. Halfway through, we took a fifteen-minute coffee break. I stood up and walked over to the window, looking out at the nearby park. Serena walked over and stood beside me. “Ms. Sinclair, have we met somewhere before?” I kept my gaze fixed outside. “I don’t think so.” She was quiet for a moment. “You look strikingly like someone I used to know.” I turned my head to look her in the eye. “Who?” She blinked, startled, and then shook her head. “Never mind. I must be mistaken.” I didn’t press further. She gave me one last, lingering look before walking away. The afternoon session went smoothly. We finalized the details, signed the letter of intent, shook hands, and wrapped up. She escorted us to the elevators. Just as the doors were closing, I caught her eye. She was still staring at me, her expression a mix of confusion and dawning realization. As the elevator descended, my assistant smiled. “That went incredibly well, Ms. Sinclair. We should be ready to sign the final contract next week.” “Yes,” I murmured. We walked out of the building, and I climbed into the back of my car. I leaned my head against the leather headrest and closed my eyes. A single memory flashed in my mind. An eight-year-old girl in a pink princess dress, looking back at me at the mall. Just one look. So bright and completely innocent. Three days later, my phone rang. It was an unrecognized local number. I picked it up. “Victoria Sinclair speaking.” Silence stretched on the other end for a few seconds. “Is this… Patience?” I held the phone to my ear, remaining silent. I could hear her breath hitching, her voice beginning to tremble. “It’s Serena. I know it’s you. I knew the moment I saw you… You look just like Dad…” I leaned back in my chair, staring out at the city. “What do you want, Serena?” Another long pause. “I want to see you,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “There are things… I need to tell you in person.” “Fine,” I said. We agreed to meet at a quiet cafe downtown at three in the afternoon. When I arrived, she was already sitting by the window. A cup of coffee sat untouched in front of her. She stood up nervously when she saw me approach. I sat down and ordered a black coffee. Her eyes welled with tears as she looked at me. “Patience…” “Don’t call me that,” I said flatly. She flinched. “I… I don’t even know where to start. Mom…” “Leave her out of this,” I interrupted. “I didn’t come here to walk down memory lane. If you have something to say, say it directly.” She lowered her eyes, her fingers twisting together so tightly her knuckles turned white.

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The five of us had been playing Rock, Paper, Scissors to decide everything since we were kids. Whoever lost had to pay the price. But in twelve years, I had never won. Not even once. The night before our engagement party, they were playing again to decide who wouldn’t be allowed on stage tomorrow. I sat in the corner, and for the first time, I saw the truth clearly. Just before they throw their hands, Ethan Carter tapped his fingers twice on the edge of the table. In the next second, the other three threw Paper in perfect unison. I threw Rock. “Chloe lost again!” “Rules are rules, Chloe. You’re not allowed on stage tomorrow.” Ethan reached over, pulling my hands into his palms and rubbing them gently. “You really are unlucky. But don’t worry. I don’t mind.” If this were the past, I would have laughed and accepted defeat. But this time, I just stared at him. “Tomorrow is my engagement party, and I’m not allowed on stage?” “When you tapped your fingers twice, was that the signal for them to throw Paper?” The table went dead silent for a second. Hailey Vance let out a soft giggle. “You only just realized? We’ve had that code since high school.” “We didn’t tell you because we were afraid you’d be a sore loser.” Ethan nodded. “You’re too sensitive, Chloe. If we told you, you’d just cry again.” So, that was it. For twelve years, I ran their errands, picked up their bills, and gave up my seats for them. It wasn’t because my luck was bad. It was because they never intended to let me win. Slowly, I pulled my hand out of Ethan’s grip. “From now on, I’m out of the game.” “So go ahead. Pick another bride for tomorrow.” …

I turned and walked away. The VIP room door wasn’t fully closed, and a burst of laughter erupted behind me. “Ethan, aren’t you going to go after her and comfort her?” Ethan scoffed, not even bothering to lower his voice. “Just leave her. She begged me for over six months to get engaged. She’ll show up tomorrow earlier than anyone else.” The whole table laughed in agreement. I stood at the end of the hallway, wiping my tears before I walked out. The receptionist at the front desk looked up and naturally turned the card reader toward me. “Miss Miller, the total is five thousand dollars.” Over the past twelve years, I had lost count of how many times I had paid the bill at this restaurant. It had become such a habit that everyone took it for granted. “I’m not paying.” “From now on, the person paying won’t be me.” When I got home, the house was dark. I dragged my suitcase out from behind the closet. Halfway through, I saw the cream-colored gown hanging behind the door. This engagement party was indeed something I had practically begged Ethan for over the past six months. Every time I brought it up before, either Hailey was sick, or Hailey was moving. He had even told me once that he lost a round of Rock, Paper, Scissors. The penalty was that he couldn’t mention marriage for a month. Yet, the very next day, I saw his Instagram Story. The four of them were vacationing on a private island. He and Hailey were wearing a tuxedo and a wedding dress. Under their friends’ cheers, they exchanged rings. That day, with red eyes, I held up my phone and confronted him. He had only sighed helplessly. “Hailey and I grew up together. I’ve known her longer than I’ve known you.” “If there were really anything between us, would it even be your turn?” Seeing my silence, his tone had softened. “We were just helping her practice. She wanted to know what a wedding ceremony felt like.” At 1:00 AM, the front door opened. He walked in smelling of alcohol, stepping over to the bed without even taking off his shoes. “The flight lands at 5:00 AM tomorrow. You need to pick up Hailey’s parents from the airport.” “She’s the most important guest tomorrow.” Without waiting for my reply, he scrolled through his phone, remembering something else. “And don’t forget, you lost the game. Tomorrow, Hailey and I will be the ones taking the stage.” “Everyone knows you’re the bride anyway, so it doesn’t matter if you go up there or not. Just be good.” With that, Ethan looked up at me. There wasn’t a single shred of guilt in his eyes. “Oh, and don’t wear that cream-colored gown. You’ll clash with Hailey.” A sharp sting rose in my nose, but I forced it down. After a long silence, I finally spoke. “Ethan, let’s call off the engagement. I’m tired.” He froze for a second, then laughed out loud. “Again?” “Over that little thing from this afternoon?” He sat on the edge of the bed and took off his jacket. “It was just a game. The five of us have played it since we were kids.” “Is it really worth throwing a tantrum over?” “Besides, even when you lose, you just run some errands or buy some stuff. Who would actually want to make you feel bad?” The touch of sincerity in his eyes almost fooled me again. On the day we filled out our college applications, the five of us had crowded onto his apartment balcony. Ethan had made the final call, saying we should all stay in the city, and no one was allowed to leave. So, I crossed out New York University, the school I had always dreamed of attending. Later, Logan went to Boston, and Mason went to Chicago. Ethan and Hailey went to New York together. Only I stayed behind. At 11:30 PM, my mom sent me a Snapchat message. “Chloe, what time should your dad and I head over tomorrow?” “Don’t worry about us. We can just sit in the very back row.” “We won’t get in your way.” Staring at those words, a sharp pain pierced my heart. I opened the chatbox. “Mom, the engagement is cancelled tomorrow.”

I started typing more. “Mom, honestly, I’ve been so tired all these years.” But then, word by word, I deleted it. I only replied with one sentence. “I’ll tell you when I get back. I want to come home and stay with you guys for a few days.” Just then, Ethan’s voice drifted from the bathroom, loud and clear. “Chloe, if you keep acting up like this, don’t blame me if I actually call off the wedding.” The next morning, I didn’t go to the airport. My phone started buzzing with texts at 5:30 AM and didn’t stop until 9:00 AM. I didn’t open a single one of them. Suddenly, the bedroom door was kicked open. Ethan stood there, his face pale with rage as he demanded answers. “Hailey’s parents stood at the airport for four hours!” “I had to drive over and pick them up myself in the end. Are you happy now?” I kept packing my suitcase, standing quietly beside him. “I told you, I’m out of this game.” “Out?” He let out a cold laugh. “Chloe, do you think this is a game you can just quit whenever you feel like it?” Hailey peeked out from behind him, her face filled with grievance. “Chloe, it’s all my fault. I shouldn’t have asked Ethan to pick them up…” “How about I tell them to go back right now?” “Do you hear that?” Hearing Hailey speak, Ethan’s anger flared up instantly. “Hailey is already apologizing to you. What more do you want?” He snatched my suitcase and threw it back into the corner. “A loss is a loss. It’s been twelve years. Do you think you make the rules now?” Looking into his eyes, I remembered last year. Hailey had appendicitis and was hospitalized. We played Rock, Paper, Scissors in the hallway to decide who would stay to nurse her. Ethan lost five times in a row, laughing and accepting his defeat. In the end, he stayed by her side for three days and three nights, peeling apples for her with a scruffy, unshaven face. But last winter, when I had a fever of 103 degrees, we also played the game. I threw Rock, and the four of them threw Paper in perfect, silent unison. Ethan had laughed, tossing his car keys to me. “Rules are rules, Chloe. Call an Uber yourself.” That night, I sat in the ER alone for four hours getting an IV drip, and went home by myself. It turned out he wasn’t incapable of losing. He had just never lost for me. “So, what is it this time? How much drama do you have to make before you’ll stop?” I didn’t cry, and I didn’t say a word. But this time, I was truly exhausted. I just silently set my suitcase upright again. Ethan’s face darkened completely. “Fine, Chloe. You’re really something!” “Don’t bother coming to the engagement party today.” “I’ll tell my mom that the bride is sick and resting at home.” The door slammed shut with a deafening bang. When it opened again, it was a delivery driver holding a bouquet of flowers. White roses. Ethan and I had an agreement. Whenever we had a fight and went cold turkey, a bouquet of white roses meant the fight was over. The sender bowed their head, and the receiver offered forgiveness. Over the years, I had received seventeen of them. I didn’t know what to feel as I held them. Just as I was about to close the door, the delivery driver stopped me. “Wait, the customer paid extra and asked me to pass along a message.” The driver cleared his throat, imitating a young girl’s cute, mocking voice. “Chloe, you’re really being too immature.” “Luckily, Ethan has me to send you flowers on his behalf.” “Oh, by the way, all your flowers from before? I was the one who ordered them too.” The blood in my veins froze in that single moment. So, from the very beginning, this promise was nothing but a joke. So, for all seventeen times, the one who bowed her head was actually me.

Before I could even process this, Ethan’s mother called. Her tone was as arrogant and condescending as always. “Chloe, how do you still have the nerve to hide at home?” “My Ethan can get any girl he wants. How was he so blind to choose you?” “It’s bad enough that you didn’t show up, but you actually let your small-town, embarrassing parents come here and make us a laughingstock!” Right after she hung up, a photo popped up on my phone. I opened it frantically. It was the grand ballroom of the luxury hotel. The heavy double doors were open only by a tiny, narrow crack. My mom and dad were standing in the hallway outside, holding thick, heavy bags in their hands. With hunched backs, they tilted their heads, carefully and fearfully trying to peer through that tiny crack. They just wanted to steal a glance at their daughter’s happiness. Tears rushed to my eyes. I grabbed my jacket and bolted out the door. But by the time I rushed to the hotel, they had already been kicked out by security. They didn’t know the city. How did they manage to find their way here all the way from their small midwestern town? I didn’t dare to think about the struggles and the cold glares they must have faced along the way. With trembling hands, I dialed their number. It rang for a long time before my mom finally answered, her voice soft and hesitant. “Chloe…” She spoke very quietly, sounding incredibly tense. “We didn’t go in. We just stood outside for a little bit.” “Your dad brought two bottles of homemade cider. He said it was his first time meeting Ethan’s parents, and we couldn’t show up empty-handed.” “We wanted to give you a surprise, and to see your big day.” A lump formed in my throat, choking me. “Where are you guys? I’m coming to get you…” “Chloe, we…” Suddenly, a hand reached out from the side. My phone was violently knocked out of my hand and hit the floor. Ethan stepped on it with his leather shoe, cracking the screen into a million white pieces. He looked down at me, his eyebrows knitted tightly. “What are you doing here?” “Don’t you know today’s party is completely private? Walking around with your phone trying to take videos, what kind of stunt are you pulling now?” Before I could say a word, Hailey emerged from the hotel lobby, supported by Mason. With just one look, my heart was pierced. She was wearing a cream-colored, custom-designed gown. It was the exact same design I had hand-drawn and ordered three months ago. Last night, he had warned me not to wear cream because he was afraid we would clash. It wasn’t because he was afraid of clashing. It was because he had already put my wedding gown on another woman. Ignoring the dress, I stared dead at Ethan, my voice trembling. “My parents stood outside for the entire morning. Didn’t they even deserve a seat?” Ethan froze for a second, seemingly not expecting this to be the reason. He frowned, his tone turning dismissive. “My mom said she already arranged for someone to handle them, and…” “Arranged for someone to kick them out?” I cut him off, my eyes bloodshot as I glared at him. “They don’t know anyone in this city! What if something happens to them!” A flash of panic crossed Ethan’s eyes, and he instinctively took a step forward. But Hailey, right on cue, reached out and grabbed his sleeve. Her eyes were slightly red as she apologized in a sweet, fragile voice. “Chloe, don’t blame Ethan.” “I was just worried that your parents would feel out of place in their clothes inside, so I asked security to politely guide them out…” “It’s all my fault. I should have gone to pick them up myself.” With just those words, the worry in Ethan’s eyes vanished instantly. He turned to shield Hailey, scolding me with a cold face. “It was all for your own good.” “Can you stop throwing these tantrums regardless of the occasion?” My heart sank further and further into the abyss.

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I was packing up after a grueling overtime shift, ready to head home, when my phone buzzed. It was a notification from the Oakridge Condos Snapchat group, tagging me. 【Apt 1102, can you please control your kid? It’s past midnight and they’re literally jumping around like they’re at a rave!】 I froze. I’ve been away on a business trip for a month. Who the hell was in my apartment? It was 10:00 PM. I had just shut down my laptop and was about to leave the office when my phone started chiming like crazy. I opened Snapchat and saw the notifications in my building’s group chat. Someone had tagged my apartment. 【Apt 1102, I’ve warned you guys more than once. Control your kid! Why won’t you listen? It’s been happening for days. Jumping and running late at night! Some of us actually have to sleep!】 【Seriously! Entitled kids come from entitled parents. I live further down the hall and even I can hear it! It’s obnoxious!】 【1102, if you keep letting your kid run wild, I’m buying a ceiling vibrator to blast noise back at you!】 【Can you please handle this? I’m so done! If you can’t parent your kid, I’ll do it for you!】 Looking at the angry messages from Apt 1002 and Apt 1101, I was completely bewildered. 【Wait, is there a mistake? My condo was just renovated. I haven’t even moved in yet. Plus, I’ve been out of town on a business trip for the past month. The place is supposed to be empty.】 【Oh, please! If you don’t want to admit you’re a terrible parent, just say so. I’ve literally knocked on your door multiple times to talk about this. Every single time, your mother yells at me, calling me a fully grown adult who’s picking on a toddler!】 【Exactly! I live right next door to you, do you think I don’t know if someone is living there? Stop lying through your teeth!】 the neighbor from 1101 chimed in. Now I was even more confused. I double-checked the group info. Yes, this was definitely the Oakridge Condos group chat. The exact building where I bought my new place. But my apartment was newly renovated and completely unoccupied. How could someone be living there? Had I been robbed? Did squatters take over? I immediately messaged my boss to request emergency leave, booked the earliest flight back for the next morning, and headed straight to the airport. I wanted to see who had the absolute audacity to shamelessly occupy my property in broad daylight. When I reached the door of Apt 1102, there was a cheesy “Welcome” mat on the floor and two pairs of sneakers sitting outside. Did I get the floor wrong? Just as I was about to pull out my phone to check, the door to the neighboring apartment swung open. A woman in her thirties stepped out, holding the hand of a four-year-old girl. She saw me and stopped. “Are you with the people in 1102?” I nodded, then hesitated and shook my head. “This is Building 3, Unit 1, Apt 1102, right?” I asked. “Of course it is!” The woman gave me a look of pure annoyance. “Good, you’re back. You seriously need to discipline your kid. Running around like crazy every night is one thing, but a few days ago, he was literally trying to lift up other little girls’ dresses on the playground! When I called him out on it, your mother came rushing over and screamed at me. She’s completely toxic.” She then gave me a slightly sympathetic look. “I shouldn’t meddle, but you really need to raise your own kid. Leaving him with your mother like this is going to ruin him, and you’ll be the one crying later.” A kid? My mother? I looked at her, utterly lost. “Ma’am, I think there’s a huge misunderstanding. I’m not even married.” She stared at me, looking me up and down. “Yeah, actually, you don’t look like a married guy.” She shrugged. “But whoever that kid belongs to, someone needs to handle him. Doing stuff like that at his age? Imagine what he’ll be like when he grows up!”

After the neighbor walked away, I took a deep breath and knocked loudly on the door. An older woman in her late fifties, wearing an apron, opened the door. She looked me up and down with intense suspicion. “Who are you?” Her question almost made me laugh. Who was I? I was the owner of this freaking apartment! “Is this your place?” I asked, suppressing the rage boiling inside me. “If it’s not mine, is it yours?” she snapped back. I nodded. “Actually, yes. It is mine.” With that, I pushed past her and walked right in. I loved the minimalist cream-and-beige aesthetic, so when I designed the place, everything was pristine, white, and organized. But now? The once-fluffy cream carpet was a dingy, filthy gray. There were muddy footprints scattered across the white porcelain tiles. The couch was buried under piles of dirty laundry, and my favorite hanging egg chair had been broken and tossed into a corner, covered in trash. The further I walked in, the angrier I got. The kitchen floor was littered with rotting vegetables, with dark, smelly water pooling in the corners. The premium pots and pans I had spent hours selecting were caked in grease and piled high in the sink. The toilet bowl had a thick layer of grime, and my foot basin was filled with dirty underwear that looked like it had been soaking for days. I didn’t even dare to walk into the master bedroom. That was my personal sanctuary, and I was terrified that if I saw it trashed, I would actually lose my mind and do something illegal. Deep breaths. I had to take deep breaths. There had to be an explanation. “Hey! Who do you think you are, barging into someone’s home without permission?!” “Are you insane? Walking around a stranger’s house like you own the place! Where are your manners?!” Martha—the older woman—had followed me as I toured the apartment. She finally seemed to snap and started screaming at me. I clenched my fists, trying with every fiber of my being not to yell. “Are you absolutely sure this is your apartment? Did you perhaps get the unit number wrong?” I had read news stories about people accidentally renovating the wrong apartment, or moving into the wrong unit by mistake after being away for a long time. I didn’t know how they got the keys, but I figured maybe some weird mix-up had happened here. But Martha only got angrier. “What do you mean, ‘your apartment, my apartment’? This is my house! My daughter bought it for me! Let me tell you, don’t think you can bully me just because I’m an old woman living here alone. I’m not someone you can mess with!” “Fine. Fine.” I took three deep breaths and pulled out my phone. This was beyond my control, and it was definitely beyond hers. But the police could handle it. “911? Yes, I’d like to report an emergency. My apartment has been illegally occupied by squatters.” “You… you called the cops?! You’re playing the victim! You’re the one who broke into my house! You’re calling the cops to get yourself arrested!” Martha was still yelling when the front door clicked open. A woman in her thirties walked in, holding the hand of a seven-year-old boy. They both stopped dead in their tracks when they saw me. “Who are you?” the younger woman demanded. I let out a cold laugh. “I own this place, and you’re asking me who I am? I should be asking you. You’re occupying my property and acting like you own the joint.” “Ha! Your apartment? You’re hilarious. We don’t even know you! What proof do you have that this is yours?” “I already called the police. We’ll find out who owns it in about ten minutes.” Ten minutes later, two police officers arrived. I gave them a detailed breakdown of the situation and showed them my digital deed, the purchase contract, and the renovation receipts on my phone. The officers’ brows furrowed as they reviewed the documents. Finally, one officer turned to the two women. “Ma’am, according to public records and these documents, this property legally belongs to this gentleman.” The two women immediately lost their minds. “Impossible! My daughter bought this condo for me!” The officer paused. “And who is your daughter?” Martha puffed out her chest proudly. “My daughter is Lily Vance.”

Lily Vance? I froze. My girlfriend’s name was Lily Vance. “Call your daughter right now and have her come down here,” the officer told Martha. “I already called my sister,” the younger woman sneered at me. “She’s already on her way.” Twenty minutes later, Lily ran through the door, completely out of breath. The moment I saw her, my jaw dropped. It really was her. My girlfriend of one year. “What’s going on?” She first looked at her mother and sister sitting on the couch. “Oh, Lily, thank God you’re here! Look at this guy! He just barged into my home, claiming the place is his! And these two cops are actually taking his side! I swear they’re all in on it together!” The moment Martha saw Lily, she literally slid off the couch onto the floor, wailing and crying. “Mom! Mom, get up!” Lily rushed over, helping her mother back onto the couch. When she finally turned around, her eyes met mine. “Ethan?” I stared at her coldly. She looked incredibly guilty. “Ethan, aren’t you supposed to be on a business trip? Why are you back so early?” “If I didn’t come back early, I wouldn’t have found out that you gifted my half-million-dollar condo to your family,” I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “Ethan, it’s not like that. Let me explain.” Lily grabbed my arm, trying to pull me to the corner of the room. I was so furious that I stood rigid, and she couldn’t budge me an inch. “Ethan,” she whispered, her voice tinged with annoyance when she couldn’t move me. “Come over here. We need to talk in private.” I shrugged and followed her to the corner. I wanted to hear what kind of absolute garbage excuse she was going to cook up. “My mom hasn’t been feeling well lately, and she needed to come to the city for medical treatments. You know how expensive hotels are here—like two hundred dollars a night! I just figured since your apartment was sitting empty anyway, they could stay here for a bit,” she said, her eyes darting around. “Oh?” I let out a cold laugh. “So you decided, without even asking me, to let your mother and sister move into my apartment?” “Ethan,” she said, looking offended. “What do you mean, ‘your apartment’? We’ve been dating for a year. What’s yours is mine! Besides, the place was just sitting here empty. Letting them stay here was basically doing you a favor by housewarming and airing the place out.” The sheer audacity! I needed her to do me a favor? “Housewarming? Is your idea of housewarming turning my brand-new, beautifully renovated apartment into a landfill?” Lily looked around the messy living room, looking slightly embarrassed. “Well, you know how older people are. They aren’t as obsessed with cleanliness. That’s why you need a woman in your life, Ethan! Once you’re back from your trip, we can move in together, and you can help my mom keep the place clean. Isn’t that perfect?” Hearing this, the anger I had been desperately trying to suppress finally erupted. “Let’s get one thing straight. First, we are not married! You letting your family move in without my consent is illegal trespassing. Second, I don’t need your family to ‘warm’ my house. And finally, I am giving you exactly three days to get your mother and sister the hell out of my apartment!” Lily’s face flushed with anger, and she shrieked, “Ethan Sterling! How dare you speak to me like that! That is my mother and my sister! They are going to be your family too! What’s wrong with letting them stay in your apartment for a bit? Why are you being so incredibly cheap and petty? I had no idea you were such a selfish, penny-pinching loser!”

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Coming home late at night, I stared at the highly explicit, scandalous photos on my phone. My chest felt incredibly tight. The woman posing in those photos was my fiancée, Chloe Henderson. She looked ecstatic, stretching her limbs in various seductive poses. Her face carried an expression of pure ecstasy—one I had never seen during our five years together. Around her neck, she was still wearing the diamond engagement necklace I had bought her. I clenched my fists, barely resisting the urge to smash my phone against the wall. How could she do this to me? The sender of the photos was Julian Vance. He was a washed-up, self-proclaimed artist who had just returned from Europe. He was also Chloe’s first love—her “one that got away.” Years ago, he abandoned her to pursue his career abroad, and they had a massive blowout, promising never to see each other again. I genuinely believed that chapter of her life was closed. I thought I was her future. But the moment Julian returned, everything shattered. ###

Even though Chloe and I had been dating for five years, she had always been incredibly conservative around me. She wouldn’t even wear a spaghetti strap top in front of me. Yet here she was, completely naked, captured by Julian’s camera. Even in the dim lighting, it was obvious she wasn’t being forced. She looked entirely willing. I sat in silence on the sofa, scrolling through every single photo. The bitterness in my heart slowly numbed, leaving behind nothing but a cold, hollow void. Right after, a text from Julian popped up. “So sorry, man. I desperately needed a model for my new exhibition, and Chloe was sweet enough to help me out. I hope she didn’t keep you waiting at City Hall?” He knew damn well that Chloe had gone to his studio early in the morning and hadn’t returned since. He was doing this on purpose. He wanted to mock me. I didn’t reply. Instead, I opened Instagram and saw that Chloe had just posted an update. It was a photo taken in Julian’s studio, but different from the ones he sent me. In this one, she was wearing a fluffy bathrobe, her hair damp. Her caption read: “You will always be my muse.” In the bottom-left corner of the photo, a messy pile of men’s and women’s clothes lay on the bed. The sheets were heavily wrinkled. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what had just happened. Our mutual friends, clueless about the truth, thought she was just showing off our relationship. They flooded the comment section with congratulations. Some of my buddies even texted me directly. “Wait, weren’t you guys supposed to sign your marriage license at City Hall today? Celebrating in a hotel already?” “When’s the wedding date, man? Don’t forget to send us the invites!” I didn’t reply to any of them. I stared at her post, and it felt like a slap in the face. I had waited at City Hall from sunrise to sunset. My excitement had slowly decayed into complete despair. At first, I was terrified she had gotten into a car accident. I frantically called her friends, asking if they had seen her. Now I realized how pathetic I was. She didn’t want to “take things slow.” I just wasn’t the “muse” she had been waiting for. ###

Chloe finally walked through the front door the next morning. She was holding a takeout container of clam chowder. “I stood in a long line just to get this for you,” she said, trying to sound sweet. “I know yesterday was my fault, but I had a really good reason. Please don’t be mad at me, okay?” I glanced at the lukewarm, greasy chowder. There was barely any seafood in it—just some watery broth and a few limp potatoes. Without saying a word, I drained my glass of warm milk. But no warm liquid could thaw the ice around my heart. Just minutes before she arrived, Julian had sent me another photo. It was Chloe standing in his kitchen, smiling as she cooked a fresh, gourmet pot of seafood chowder from scratch. We had been together for five years, and I never even knew Chloe could cook. When we first met, she told me she was completely useless in the kitchen because her parents had pampered her. So, for five years, I treated her like a spoiled princess and did all the cooking. Yet, my princess had gone to cook a gourmet meal for another man. And her “apology” to me was just Julian’s leftovers. Seeing my indifferent expression, Chloe’s smile faded. She stepped in front of me, blocking my path. “I didn’t mean to stand you up yesterday! My phone died. I texted you as soon as I could!” Her “text” was literally three words: “Let’s wait.” Every call I made after that went straight to voicemail. What was the point of explaining now? I slowly stood up, looking at her with cold eyes. “So, your way of ‘helping out’ was stripping naked to be Julian’s model?” “You were the one who set the date for us to get married. And you were the one who broke the promise. Do you even have a shred of respect for me?” My words triggered her. She slammed her phone onto the table in frustration. “I already told you! Marriage is a huge step. Can’t I have some time to think it over? I just wanted to postpone signing the papers. It’s not like I’m never marrying you!” She rolled her eyes, sat down aggressively, and knocked over our matching couple mugs. *Smash!* I looked at the shattered red and blue ceramic pieces on the floor. Suddenly, I remembered last Valentine’s Day. Chloe had stood under a giant screen at the mall, holding a bunch of red roses, and proposed to me. She said her only birthday wish was for us to get married. She was the one who made the promise, and she was the one who shattered it. Maybe our relationship had been too smooth. I had never noticed how distant we had become. Lately, she was always checking her phone during our dates. She would stare at her screen late at night, giggling like a teenager. Whenever I asked, she would just shrug and say it was nothing. And I, like an idiot, kept living in a fantasy world, believing we would naturally get married, buy a house, and grow old together. Since she didn’t care anymore, why should I cling to this pathetic relationship? ###

Sensing the heavy tension, Chloe stepped closer and wrapped her arms around my neck, using her usual whiny tone. “Ethan, babe, I know you love me. Yesterday was totally my fault. I didn’t realize how important it was to you, and I made you wait. But look, I bought you chowder to make it up to you! Stop being mad, okay?” I brushed her hands off my neck. I couldn’t even look at the takeout box on the table. “Where did this chowder really come from, Chloe? You know the truth.” Just because she put it in a restaurant bag didn’t mean it was takeout. Our relationship was just like that bag—wrapped in a sweet package, but completely rotten on the inside. My words struck a nerve. Chloe’s face turned incredibly cold. “Ethan Carter, are you done throwing your tantrum? I apologized, and I explained. What else do you want from me?” “I’m still young! I don’t want to bind myself to a marriage so early. Is that a crime?” I let out a bitter laugh. Looking at her self-righteous face, I felt deeply exhausted. Sure. Why not? A suffocating silence filled the living room. I just stared at her familiar yet unrecognizable face. Before I could speak, her phone rang. Even though she quickly turned away, I caught the caller ID flashing on her screen. “Hubby ❤️” That used to be my exclusive contact name on her phone. And now, I was standing right in front of her. It wasn’t hard to guess who was calling. Chloe picked up, and Julian’s voice echoed through the speaker. “Chloe, I accidentally broke the ceramic figurine you gave me. My wrist is bleeding pretty badly…” “Oh my god, are you okay? I’m coming over right now. Wait for me!” She hung up and immediately rushed to grab her coat. Even a fool could see through this. I stepped forward and grabbed her arm. “Don’t go, Chloe.” But she didn’t even pause to look at me as she shoved her feet into her heels. “You heard him, Ethan! Julian is hurt. He’s an artist—his hands are his livelihood! Nothing can happen to them. I’m just going to check on him, and then I’ll be right back.” Something snapped inside me. The last thread of my patience broke. Five years of love couldn’t compete with a single lie from Julian. I watched her coldly pull her arm out of my grip and pick up her purse. I said quietly, “If you walk out that door, don’t bother coming back.” “What?” She spun around, looking genuinely confused. I met her gaze. “I said, if you go to Julian today, we are done. Let’s break up.” “Ethan! How long are you going to keep acting like a child? How can you be so incredibly petty? You can’t just throw the word ‘breakup’ around every time you’re annoyed! I have an emergency right now. We’ll talk when I get back tonight!” The door slammed, and her shadow disappeared into the elevator. I calmly locked the door and sat back down on the sofa. Let it be. I had invested so much time, energy, and money into this relationship. I had treated her like a queen, carrying all the burdens alone. And in the end, my queen stripped bare for another man’s camera. I had given her so many chances. But I finally had to admit—she was no longer the girl I fell in love with. ###

That night, I drove straight to a local lounge. My best friend, Marcus, had set up a table to celebrate my “last night of freedom” before marriage. When I told him we broke up, he was stunned. He slung an arm around my shoulder and waved his hand dismissively. “There are plenty of fish in the sea, man! Why cry over one dead flower? Don’t worry, I’ll introduce you to some gorgeous girls tonight.” I waved him off. I wasn’t in the mindset to start anything new. But Marcus didn’t listen. He dragged two beautiful girls over to our table anyway. Everyone was getting a bit tipsy, and the atmosphere was heating up, but I kept my distance. As I watched the crowd swaying on the dance floor, my eyes locked onto a familiar figure. It was Chloe. And Julian was standing right behind her, his hands wrapped tightly around her waist as they ground against each other. His wrists were perfectly fine. There wasn’t a single scratch on him. It was such a pathetic, obvious lie, yet Chloe had thrown away our five-year relationship just to run to him. I calmly looked away and poured myself another drink. Just then, a slender, pale hand rested on top of mine. “Drinking alone is boring. Let me join you.” I looked up. The dim, flashing lights of the lounge blurred her features, but she looked incredibly familiar. Seeing my confusion, she tilted her head, clinked her glass against mine, and smirked. “Don’t tell me you forgot who I am?” I blinked, staring at her face. The woman sat down right next to me, her eyes drifting toward Chloe on the dance floor. It finally clicked. Since college, Chloe had an arch-nemesis. They competed over everything—looks, family background, grades, jobs. The woman sitting next to me was her rival, Stella Winters. My first instinct was to pull away, but then I remembered Chloe and I were over. Stella was just an acquaintance I ran into at a bar. There was no reason to be dramatic. We ended up chatting, and before I knew it, we had finished a bottle of whiskey between us. Marcus walked back from the dance floor, giving us a knowing look. “That’s what I’m talking about! Who cares about an ex when there are better options right here? Enjoy your night, bro!” Fearing he would say something even more embarrassing, I kicked him in the shin. Marcus laughed and ran back to the dance floor with his girlfriend. Feeling the alcohol hitting my brain, I shook my head and stood up, ready to call an Uber. But before I could take two steps, Stella caught up and supported my arm. “I was just about to leave too. Want to share a ride?” It would have been rude to say no, so we walked out of the lounge together. Once we got into the back of the car, Stella accidentally tripped on her dress and fell right into my lap. I reflexively caught her. The warmth of her breath tickled my neck, and I suddenly realized how incredibly intimate our position was. I went to push her up gently, but she grabbed my hand. Her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes were wild and mesmerizing. She didn’t say a word, but her gaze spoke volumes. In the dark backseat, she slowly leaned in and pressed her cool lips against mine. She kissed me gently, whispering against my lips, “Chloe doesn’t deserve you. Stop wasting your love on her.” I didn’t pull away. I cupped the back of her head, and just as I was about to deepen the kiss, someone tapped loudly on the car window. I looked over and saw Chloe standing outside, looking utterly confused. “Is this Ethan’s car? Ethan, are you in there?” She leaned in, trying to peer through the tinted glass. I froze for a second, but Stella just smirked. She reached over and rolled down the window.

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On the day of my wife’s first love’s wedding, she went completely mad. She stormed the altar with a knife, stabbing him dozens of times until he was dead, and then she slit her own throat. Standing in the crowd, watching the bloodbath, I was frozen in shock. That was the moment I realized the woman I had loved for five years had never actually loved me. Her heart belonged to someone else. So when I woke up back in time, reliving this life, she didn’t hesitate. She threw me away like trash to chase after him. I thought we would never cross paths again. I was wrong. Six years later, our paths crossed again at the Grand Plaza Mall. She was now parading around as the wife of the mall’s General Manager, Derek Vance. He was doing a walk-through inspection with her by his side. The moment she spotted me, her lip curled in disgust. “Stalking me now, Ethan? Let me make this clear: I’m married. You and I are ancient history. Get over it.” I didn’t even bother to reply. I turned around and headed toward the baby section to grab some diapers for my daughter. But she chased me down, snatched the pack of diapers from my hands, slammed them onto the floor, and stomped on them with her high heels. “You’re married with a kid? You used to swear you’d never marry anyone but me! You liar!” 0

I never expected to run into Chloe at the Grand Plaza Mall. She was clinging to Derek’s arm as he did a routine inspection of the luxury boutiques. The sales associates were practically tripping over themselves to serve her. “Mrs. Vance, this is our latest arrival. It’s a limited edition. If you like it, I can offer you a twenty percent discount.” “Just make sure you reserve the best spot for our brand next season,” Chloe said, playing the part of the powerful manager’s wife. “Of course! And the diamond necklace you asked about last time? I saved it just for you.” Derek glanced at the jewelry case and nodded. “Take it. It’ll look perfect on you at our engagement party next week.” “Engagement party? I see you and Mr. Vance together all the time. I thought you guys were already married!” one of the salesgirls asked innocently. Chloe’s smile froze. Realizing her blunder, the salesgirl quickly backpedaled. “Oh, I just meant you look so perfect together, like a happily married couple!” Hearing them kiss her feet, I couldn’t help but let out a soft, mocking chuckle. In our past life, Chloe had gone completely insane when she saw Derek marrying someone else. She had crashed his wedding, slaughtered him, and killed herself to join him in death. I never understood it. If she loved him that much, why did they ever split up in our first life? But after we were reborn, she didn’t hesitate to dump me instantly to chase her happily-ever-after. Yet, here we were, six years later, and they still weren’t married. They were only just getting engaged now. “Derek has been so focused on his career these past few years,” Chloe said, gazing up at him with dripping adoration. “He asked me to marry him so many times, but his career is on the rise. I didn’t want my own happiness to get in the way of his future.” Wow. She sure knew how to play the supportive partner for him. Back when she was with me, she did nothing but look down on me, constantly complaining that I was a broke loser. It turned out she wasn’t incapable of empathy. She just didn’t love me. I lowered my eyes, completely ignoring her, and turned toward the baby store to buy some supplies. “Ethan? What are you doing here?” Chloe’s sharp voice cut through the air behind me. I stopped and turned. Chloe was standing right there, glaring at me. The salesgirl looked at us, confused. “Is this gentleman a friend of yours, Chloe? If he’s shopping here, we can give him a discount too.” Chloe smirked, her eyes dripping with disdain. “A friend? Please. He’s just a dirt-broke ex of mine. Back then, he couldn’t even afford a hundred-dollar necklace. There’s no way he can buy anything in this mall.” “An ex?” The salesgirl glanced nervously at Derek. Derek didn’t seem to care; instead, he pulled Chloe tightly against his waist, looking down his nose at me like a conquering king. “Did you even check the price tags before walking in here? Don’t make a fool of yourself when you realize you can’t afford a single thing,” Derek sneered. “Whether I can afford it or not has absolutely nothing to do with you,” I said coldly. Chloe’s face instantly twisted in anger. “If you’re that desperate, maybe I can throw a little charity your way. Or wait… did you hear about my engagement and stalk me here on purpose?” Chloe mocked. Hearing this, Derek stepped forward, standing right beside Chloe and sizing me up with a condescending glare. “Ethan, Chloe told me all about how you used to harass her. I thought she was just being nice, but you really are a creep.” “You didn’t appreciate her when she was yours. Now that she’s marrying me, you’re drowning in regret?” Derek’s face flushed with anger, glaring at me like he wanted to pick a fight. Only because Chloe held his hand did he restrain himself from throwing a punch. “Ethan, I made it crystal clear when we broke up. There is absolutely no chance for us. Why can’t you just let me go?” “I know you’re broke, and seeing me doing so well makes you bitter, but this is just sad.” Derek scoffed. “A man with no real skills trying to leech off his ex-girlfriend. Absolutely pathetic.” “Just look at what you’re wearing. Not a single designer label.” I looked down at my custom suit. It was a bespoke Italian piece, hand-tailored and literally one of a kind. A low-level mall manager like Derek obviously didn’t have the class to recognize true luxury. Seeing my silence, he smugly pulled out his wallet, grabbed a few bills, and slapped them against my chest, letting them flutter to the floor. “This should cover your groceries for a month. Now get lost and stop bothering us.” The hundred-dollar bills scattered on the floor. Chloe smirked. “What? Still not enough?” She glanced down at her own empty designer clutch. “Well, people don’t really carry cash these days. How about I transfer it to you? How does ten grand sound?” “That’s probably more than you can save in two years of hard labor.” I remained silent. Chloe pulled out her phone, opened Snapchat, and tried to send the cash transfer. But the second she hit send, a bright red exclamation mark popped up on her screen. 0

“Ethan!” Chloe suddenly shoved her phone screen in front of my face and shrieked, startling the shoppers around us. “You actually blocked me?!” I found her outrage ridiculous. Isn’t blocking your ex standard procedure after a breakup to avoid drama? Besides, I had a family and a child now. My wife, Audrey, was already a bit insecure due to her past trauma; keeping an ex on my Snapchat was just asking for trouble. “Why wouldn’t I block you? We broke up years ago. We have nothing to say to each other.” Chloe’s smug face instantly turned incredibly dark. “Nothing to say?” she spat, her teeth gritted. I nodded calmly. “It’s been six years, Chloe. Keep your money. I don’t need a single dime from you.” My refusal made her look even more monstrous. “Ethan, who do you think you’re fooling? Act like a big shot all you want, but I know exactly how broke you are.” “Do you even know who my fiancé is? He’s the General Manager of this entire mall, and this place is owned by Summit Enterprises! Don’t embarrass yourself.” Derek grinned proudly, puffing out his chest. “Chloe, why bother talking to this loser? A peasant like him has probably never even heard of Summit Enterprises.” “He’s destined to rot at the bottom of the food chain forever.” I stared at the smug Derek. He seemed to have completely forgotten how he secured this GM position in the first place. Derek used to be a low-level cubicle drone at Summit. He had zero talent but loved to brag that he was the company’s rising star, claiming they’d go bankrupt without him. Chloe’s parents were respected college professors—dignified, rational people. They saw right through his lies and absolutely despised him. But Derek’s cheap, sweet-talking charm worked like magic on a naive girl like her. She refused to leave him, and it took her parents threatening to end their own lives to force her to break up with him. During that dark period, Chloe was like a hollow shell. I was the one who stayed up night after night, taking care of her and piecing her back together. Naturally, we ended up dating. But while we were together, my business proposals would mysteriously vanish from my laptop. Meanwhile, Derek’s career at Summit suddenly took off like a rocket. I brought this up to Chloe multiple times, but she always brushed it off as a coincidence. Once she agreed to marry me, I finally let it go. I thought she would change after marriage. But the moment she heard Derek was marrying another woman, she lost all sanity. She slaughtered him and died for him. Her love for him was bordering on psychotic, unmatched by anyone. So, after being reborn, the first thing she did was dump me. She used her memories of my past proposals from our previous life to help Derek climb the corporate ladder. The moment she asked for a breakup, I agreed without a single second of hesitation. Because I knew I couldn’t stop her, and frankly, I didn’t want to. I just didn’t expect our paths to cross like this. “I’m sorry, but how I live my life is none of your concern. Now, please move. I have shopping to do.” Derek stepped in front of me, blocking my path. “What’s the matter? Exposed, so now you want to run?” “Stalking Chloe just so she’ll take pity on you and throw you a bone, huh?” The salesgirls nearby began whispering, shooting me disgusted looks. “What a shameless ex-boyfriend. He’s still harassing her after all this time.” “It’s sickening. He probably saw how rich she got and crawled back to leech off her!” Derek smirked, enjoying the peanut gallery. “Tell you what. Since you’re Chloe’s ex, if you promise never to bother us again, I can pull some strings and get you a job here at the mall.” “Oh my god, Mr. Vance is too kind! He’s actually offering her pathetic ex a job!” “What a gentleman. Unlike this shameless loser!” Suddenly, my phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out and saw a Snapchat message from my wife: *’Babe, didn’t I ask you to grab some diapers from our mall? What’s taking so long?’* 0

Before I could even reply, Chloe snatched my phone and slammed it onto the hard marble floor. *Crash.* “Ethan! Are you even listening to us?” “Derek is offering you a job! You should be begging on your knees in gratitude! People would kill for this opportunity!” I looked down at my shattered phone on the floor. “I don’t need a job, and I don’t need his charity. But you are going to pay for my phone.” She let out a scoff. “Look at you, crying over a cheap phone. How much could it possibly cost?” “Are you unemployed and too proud to accept our help?” “Don’t worry, we’d only put you on dishwashing or janitorial duty anyway. You don’t need to feel guilty.” She was completely convinced I was asking for money because I was broke. What she didn’t know was that I owned this entire mall. When my wife, Audrey, first took over as the CEO of Summit Enterprises, the greedy board of directors tried to overthrow her. I took over this failing mall, completely turned it around, and secured her position. Since then, she had left the mall’s operations entirely in my hands. “I’m asking you to pay because you broke it. That’s just basic accountability. It has nothing to do with my financial status,” I said, too tired to explain. Even if I told her I owned this entire mall, she’d just think I was lying. In her eyes, I would always be inferior to her precious Derek. “As if a wealthy person would cry over a stupid phone,” she sneered. “Is that so?” Before she could even blink, I stepped forward, reached into Chloe’s pocket, snatched her phone, and slammed it onto the marble floor. *Smash.* It shattered with a loud, satisfying crunch. The salesgirls and shoppers gasped in horror. “Since you’re so rich, you shouldn’t care about a stupid phone, right?” I asked, echoing her words. Chloe’s face turned red, then green with rage. “Ethan! Are you doing this on purpose? Is my phone the same as your cheap piece of trash?” “I just got this! It’s the latest iPhone and cost over fifteen hundred dollars!” “Well, fifteen hundred dollars is pocket change to you. Surely, Chloe, you won’t hold a grudge over something so small?” Chloe looked around at the onlookers. To save face in front of the salesgirls, she gritted her teeth and forced a stiff smile. “Of course not. I’m not like you, crying over pennies.” “Perfect. Since you don’t mind, I do. I’m just a broke guy, remember? You still owe me for my phone.” Chloe’s fake smile shattered instantly. “Ethan, I have never seen anyone so shameless and greedy!” “You smashed my phone and still expect me to pay you? In your dreams!” “You said you didn’t care about the money. I never said I didn’t.” “You…!” She was completely speechless, her chest heaving with rage. “Fine! It’s just a phone. I’ll pay you. But since my phone is broken, I’ll transfer it to you once I get a new one!” she spat. I nodded. “Great. My number hasn’t changed. Remember to send it.” I bent down, picked up my broken phone, and turned to leave. But behind me, Chloe burst into a smug laugh. “I knew it! You broke my phone just so you could have a valid excuse to get my Snapchat again.” “If you wanted my contact info, you could have just asked. Why play these childish games?” “And keeping your number the same all these years… were you waiting for me to come back to you?” Derek’s face went extremely dark. He stepped forward and yelled, “Ethan! I’m telling you, you and Chloe are over! Don’t even dream about it!” “If you try to ruin our lives, I’ll make sure you regret it!” “Do I need your mercy? Let me repeat myself: Chloe and I broke up. We have no relationship now, and we never will.” “Everything she’s saying is just her own delusional fantasy. Running into you today was a pure accident.” “Don’t worry, the moment I get the money, I’ll block her again. I won’t pose any threat to your precious marriage.” I paused, looking Derek dead in the eye with a smirk. “Are you warning me because you’re afraid she’ll fall back in love with me?” “Are you insecure because you know you’re inferior to me?” “Bullshit!” Derek roared, his face contorting. “Inferior to you? Then why did Chloe choose me over you in the end?” He looked like he was about to swing at me. Chloe noticed his anger and quickly hugged his arm. “Derek, don’t let him get to you. He’s just trying to provoke you. A worthless man like him isn’t even worth your pinky finger.” “I chose you, and I will always choose you.” “No one can ever replace you in my heart.” Hearing this, Derek’s chest puffed up again, and his expression softened. I didn’t even bother to roll my eyes. I walked past them and straight into the baby store next door. But Chloe wasn’t done. She followed me right in, looking absolutely furious. While I was carefully picking out diapers and baby formula, she marched over, ripped the package out of my hand, threw it on the ground, and stomped on it. “Ethan! You refuse a good job from us, but here you are buying diapers? What, are you working as a male nanny now?” “How pathetic. Look what you’ve reduced yourself to.” “I’m warning you, if you ever dare to speak to Derek like that again, I’ll make you pay!” “Weren’t you the one who started this ridiculous conversation?” I asked, unimpressed. Before she could scream back, a store clerk interrupted us. “Mr. Carter, your wife sent me to ask when you’ll be done. She wants to know if you’ve got everything.” Chloe froze. Her eyes widened in disbelief. “What… what did you just call him?” “Mr. Carter?” 0

“Why did you call him Mr. Carter? Does a loser like him even deserve that title?” Chloe pointed at my face, her voice rising in anger. “Look at him! He’s just a nobody who needs my charity to even get a job!” The clerk looked at me, thoroughly confused. I met Chloe’s gaze. She let out a dry laugh, crossing her arms as she leaned against a display shelf. “Ethan, did you hire this actor to play a part?” “You knew I’d be here today, so you staged this whole drama just to show off? To prove you’re doing great without me?” “You want me to regret leaving you, don’t you?” “This trick is so outdated. It’s pathetic.” I looked at her smug face. “You think way too highly of yourself.” I ignored her and went back to picking diapers. Audrey was waiting at home, and she’d worry if I took too long. “Ethan! Are you seriously ignoring me?” “What is with that stupid, silent treatment!” “Diapers! Why are you so obsessed with these stupid diapers!” Chloe lost her temper and tried to push past, but the clerk stepped in, blocking her path. “Ma’am, please stop causing a scene. If you continue, I’ll have security escort you out.” “Also, Mr. Carter is not a nanny. He is buying diapers for his own daughter.” Chloe glared at the clerk, her eyes wild with fury. “Get out of my way!” “I said, move!” The clerk stood firm. Chloe raised her hand and— *Slap!* A harsh slap landed right on the clerk’s cheek, the sound echoing through the store. I immediately stepped in, pulling the clerk behind me. “Chloe! Have you lost your mind?!” “Me? Lost my mind?” she pointed at the clerk. “He’s the one who was disrespectful first!” “Doesn’t he know the customer is king? Look at his attitude! Does he even know who my fiancé is?” “My fiancé is the General Manager of this mall! He wants to kick me out? I’ll make sure he gets fired today!” I turned and patted the clerk’s shoulder. “I’m sorry you got dragged into this.” “Go back to the back office. I’ll handle this.” The clerk nodded, holding his bruised cheek. “Mrs. Carter said your daughter is waiting. Please hurry home, Mr. Carter.” “I will. I’ll be right out.” As the clerk walked away, Chloe suddenly blinked, as if waking from a trance. “Wait… what did he just say?” “For your own daughter?” “Ethan, when did you get married?!” I nodded calmly. “Yes, I’m married.” “I told you that already, but you refused to believe me. You just love to twist everything to make it about yourself, Chloe. You’re incredibly delusional.” “Delusional? If you got married, why didn’t you tell me? Why?!” “Why should I? Are we close? Do we even have a reason to speak?” Chloe stared at me, her voice trembling. “When… when did you get married?” I met Audrey by accident. It was about a year after Chloe and I broke up. To escape the heartbreak and clear my mind, I volunteered to do community work in a remote, off-grid mountain community. On my very first day, I crossed paths with Audrey. She had been kidnapped by a trafficking ring and held captive there, terrified. She begged me to help her escape. I did some digging, realized how dangerous and corrupt the local off-grid group was, and secretly contacted the FBI and local authorities. We successfully raided the compound and rescued her along with several other victims. After her rescue, Audrey suffered from severe trauma. I stayed by her side at the hospital, helping her through her recovery and therapy. Over time, we fell in love. We got married a year later. It was only on our wedding day that I discovered her true identity: she was the sole heiress of Summit Enterprises. I thought her powerful family would reject a nobody like me. Instead, they were incredibly grateful for saving her life. They welcomed me with open arms and eventually handed the mall’s operations over to us. Though the greedy board of directors gave us a hard time at first, we faced them together and won. True love is forged in fire. My bond with Audrey grew stronger every single day. She made me realize my own worth. Real love doesn’t require you to beg or lose your dignity. “Chloe, it doesn’t matter when,” I said coldly. “I never wronged you. I only married after we were completely over.” I grabbed the bag of diapers and turned to leave, but Chloe blocked the exit. “How could you do this to me? You swore you’d only love me in this lifetime! How could you marry someone else?” “You even had a kid with some random woman! Ethan, how could you betray me like this?!” Before I could even open my mouth, a cold, elegant voice rang out from behind her. “Really? He swore all that to you? How come I never heard about it?” Chloe and I both turned. Standing there was Audrey, looking stunning and incredibly composed. She walked up to me, naturally wrapping her arm around mine, and raised an eyebrow. “Is what she’s saying true, Ethan?” “Not a single word,” I replied instantly, looking down at my beautiful wife. Chloe’s face twisted in fury. “You’re lying! In our past life, you—” She screamed, but suddenly realized she was about to expose her regression and slapped her hand over her mouth. “Either way, you can’t do this to me!” she shrieked, resorting to a childish tantrum. I let out a cold laugh. “Chloe, don’t you think you’re being ridiculous? You’re about to get married, yet you’re trying to control my life?” “I have a wife and a daughter now. I suggest you stay out of my way, and we stay out of each other’s lives forever!”

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I never thought my fiancé was actually twins. Until that day, when Chloe, the adopted daughter, framed me for theft, and I was completely blacklisted by high society. My father just stood by and watched. Desperate for help, I went to find my fiancé—only to find two identical men, Ethan and Evan, in the attic. “Ethan, how much longer do we have to play along with Elena? If it weren’t for Chloe, I’d throw up every time I get close to her.” Ethan sneered, replying, “Come on, didn’t you put on quite a show last night? Her lips were practically swollen.” “Soon. Once Elena is completely driven out, Chloe will be the only heiress of the Sinclair family.” I collapsed to the floor, paralyzed. I couldn’t believe the family and love I had begged for were nothing but a sick lie. With trembling hands, I dialed that number. The man’s deep, teasing voice came from the other end. “Elena, running away isn’t always a good thing. Come back to me, and I’ll help you with anything.” I let out a bitter laugh and accepted. “Give me five more days, and I will sell myself to you completely.”

The voice on the other end fell silent for a moment. When Liam spoke again, the teasing tone was gone, replaced by a rare seriousness. “Sell? Elena, don’t degrade yourself.” “I’ve been waiting for you to come back to me for three years. Not for a transaction.” I chuckled bitterly, not believing him. *Ding-dong.* The doorbell rang, and I hung up the phone. It was Evan standing outside. I knew it was him because of the dark hickey on his neck—one I had left there myself. “Elena, are you still upset?” He walked in with a smile, reaching out to ruffle my hair like he always did. I coldly turned my head away, dodging his touch. “You know I’m innocent. When Chloe framed me for theft, why did you take her side?” The smile on Evan’s face froze, replaced by a helpless look. “Elena, you’re older than Chloe. Shouldn’t you let her have her way?” “Don’t worry about what the rest of the social circle says. Even if the whole world turns against you, I’ll always stand by your side.” Looking into his hypocritical, deeply affectionate eyes, my stomach churned. He was so disgusting. “Really? Then, thank you.” Seeing my reaction, Evan thought he had successfully calmed me down with his sweet words. He took advantage of the moment and continued: “Elena, there’s a gala tonight hosted by Chloe. Why don’t you come with me to support her?” I looked up at him, my eyes filled with sarcasm. “What, is the ‘thief’ show not over yet? Do you need me to go there just to be humiliated by her again?” “I’m tired. I’m not going.” Evan stepped behind me, softening his voice. “Elena, I know you’ve been wronged. But hiding at home won’t solve anything. Just do it for me, okay?” I remained silent. Evan pulled a sleek, elegant envelope from his suit pocket and waved it in front of me. “An invitation to Simon Joshua’s private studio.” “Elena, I remember you said you love his designs.” I looked up, my eyes locked onto it. “Accompany me to the gala, and I’ll arrange a meeting. Otherwise, I don’t think a master like Joshua would want to meet someone wrapped in a theft scandal and doesn’t know ‘the rules’.” It was a blatant threat. I let out a self-deprecating laugh. And I agreed. “Fine.” Evan smiled with satisfaction, planting a kiss on my forehead as if rewarding a pet. “Good girl. That’s the Elena I know.” “By the way, remember to wear the red dress I bought you. You look beautiful in it.” Watching his retreating back, I suddenly called out. “Wait!” Evan stopped at the door and turned around, looking confused. I stared into his eyes, forcing one last smile. “Do you love me?” “If you weren’t ‘Ethan,’ if we didn’t have this arranged marriage between our families, would you still love me?” Evan froze. It was as if he hadn’t expected such a “foolish” question. He lowered his head, avoiding my gaze. “Don’t ask silly questions. I’ll pick you up at eight.” He shut the door in a hurry, almost running away. I stood in the center of the room, unable to move for a long time. The last spark of light in my heart finally went out. “I see,” I whispered to the empty room. This time, I truly understood. My phone buzzed. It was a SnapChat message from Liam. [I agree to your plan.]

At exactly eight o’clock, the Vance family’s car pulled up. When I opened the door and got in, I realized the person picking me up was actually Ethan. Actually, the twins were easy to tell apart if you paid close attention. Ethan was serious and methodical. He was usually the one dealing with me during official business. Evan, on the other hand, was social and charming; he was the one I spent private time with. Normally, Ethan hated galas, so Evan should have been the one attending. I didn’t know why they had switched today. Ethan’s gaze swept over my dress, and he frowned. “Why aren’t you wearing the red one?” I did it on purpose. I knew Chloe’s dress would look highly similar to that red one. They always played this game where I “accidentally” wore the same style so Chloe could “effortlessly” outshine me. I was done playing along. I leaned closer, ignoring his question. Instead, I placed my finger gently on his neck. “Ethan, I just left a mark here yesterday. How did it fade so fast?” Ethan’s Adam’s apple bobbed violently. He jerked his head away to avoid my touch, his voice tight. “I probably put some ointment on it. Let’s not talk about that. We need to go.” Suddenly, I grabbed his tie, forcing him to lean down. Under his shocked gaze, I leaned in and kissed his neck hard. I left a fresh, crimson mark right there. The sound of the wet kiss was incredibly loud in the quiet car. “You—” Ethan’s entire body went rigid. I was so close to him that I could hear his heart hammering wildly in his chest. *Clack.* From the passenger seat, behind the privacy partition, came the sound of something breaking. After a long pause, the driver, Arthur, spoke up. “Apologies, Master Ethan. My cup slipped.” What a terrible lie. I figured the person sitting in the passenger seat was Evan. Ethan’s voice was incredibly raspy. “It’s fine. Let’s go.” I let go of his tie and sat back. I didn’t care. It didn’t matter who was in the front seat. I just wanted to disgust Chloe. When the car door opened at the venue, I took Ethan’s arm. I could feel his muscles tensing. His ears were still red from that kiss. He was surprisingly pure-hearted compared to his brother. As soon as we walked in, I saw Chloe surrounded by a crowd, basking in their flattery. She initially cast a casual glance at me, not planning to cause trouble right away. But when the bright chandelier lights hit Ethan’s neck, revealing that fresh hickey, her smile instantly froze. She immediately marched over with her friends, blocking my way. “Elena, you’re a thief. How dare you show your face at my gala?” “Ethan, why do you bring just anyone here?” The girls around her giggled, and the crowd turned to look at me with mocking or amused stares. Ethan’s Adam’s apple moved, but he didn’t say a word to defend me. As expected, he chose to be a silent bystander. I let go of his arm and stepped forward. “Chloe, don’t make baseless accusations. Where is your proof?” “Proof? Everyone saw it! My diamond necklace was found in your bag!” I laughed mockingly. “Right. So if I slip something into your bag tomorrow and pull it out, does that make you a thief too? If you’re so sure, call the police. Chloe, you’ve never been soft-hearted with me. Why haven’t you called them? What are you afraid of?” My aggressive tone infuriated her. In a fit of rage, she threw her red wine right at me, then smashed her glass at my feet. “Keep talking, Elena! Dad said it himself.” “If I beat you in the fashion design competition, you will be thrown out of the Sinclair family like trash!” Chloe walked away with her head held high. Wine dripped from my hair, and my bare ankle was bleeding from a glass shard. The crowd whispered, but I ignored them and walked to a dark corner of the hall. Ethan stood behind me, hesitantly holding out a towel. I didn’t take it. Instead, I asked calmly, “Is this enough?” Ethan looked at me blankly. “What?” “Playing along so Chloe can trample on my dignity. Is this enough for your little show?” Ethan didn’t expect me to be so blunt. His eyes drifted down, flinching at my bleeding ankle. “I…” Seeing him hesitate, I felt exhausted. I didn’t want to talk anymore. “If it’s enough, remember your promise.” “The invitation to Joshua’s studio.” “Ethan, I told you I loved his work because I loved you. Not so you could use it to threaten me.” With that, I limped toward the exit. Ethan took a step forward, calling out, “Elena!” But I didn’t look back, and I didn’t stop.

I didn’t go straight home. Actually, the taxi pulled over at a corner. Liam opened the door. Seeing the driver’s respectful attitude, I knew he was Liam’s man. Liam didn’t say a word. He just knelt in the car, his strong frame squeezed near my feet. He opened a first-aid kit and gently disinfected and bandaged my ankle. His movements were incredibly tender, almost reverent. It was completely different from the controlling, possessive touches of the twins. “Don’t worry, I won’t judge your choices anymore.” “But I will make them pay for this.” I looked at him in surprise. Years ago, Liam used to control everything, even what I ate. Over the last three years, he had changed a lot. He didn’t stay long. After bandaging me, he got out of the car. The driver safely delivered me back to my apartment. When I pushed the door open, the living room light was on. Evan was sitting on the sofa, a first-aid kit open at his feet. It looked like he had been waiting for a long time. I stopped at the entryway, my voice cold. “How did you get in?” He smirked. “Your passcode is my birthday. It wasn’t hard to guess.” I didn’t reply. I changed my shoes and walked straight to the bathroom. “It’s late. You should leave.” Evan seemed displeased by my lifeless attitude. He stood up and approached me. “Elena, I came all this way with medicine to bandage your wound.” “Why are you so cold to me?” He leaned in close, almost kissing me. I frowned and dodged. Displeasure flashed in his eyes, and he grabbed my wrist. Jealousy and anger mixed in his voice as he demanded, “You kissed me in the car.” “Why are you dodging me now?” I knew he was talking about me kissing Ethan. It was hilarious. He didn’t even love me, yet he was acting like this. Since he was angry, I decided to make him even more miserable. I mocked him playfully, “Because…” “The cold, stern look you had in the car was much hotter than this desperate face.” Evan was instantly provoked. He pressed me against the wall, trapping me with his body. “Hot?” “Maybe I should stay tonight. Let’s see which version of me you find hotter.” I pushed him away, my eyes filled with pure disgust. “I’m covered in the wine Chloe threw at me. Doesn’t that disgust you?” As expected, the moment Chloe’s name was mentioned, any romantic tension evaporated. I heard his heavy, suppressed breathing. Then came a loud *slam* of the door. Evan was gone. As I stepped out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel, my phone buzzed with a notification from the competition committee: [The submission deadline is tonight at 11:59 PM. Please upload your final work on time.] I opened my laptop and typed on the keyboard. [Confirm Submission.] The screen displayed: “Submission Successful.” I leaned back in my chair and let out a long sigh. My mind relaxed, but as I looked around my study, something felt slightly off. I couldn’t find any obvious traces of intrusion, so I assumed I was just paranoid from exhaustion. I turned off the lights and went to sleep. At that exact moment, in the Vance mansion. Two laptop screens lit up simultaneously. Evan, leaning against his sports car smoking a cigarette, checked his buzzing phone. An email notification popped up: [Design Competition Submission — Elena]. He stared at the sender’s name, hesitating to open it. In his study, Ethan was looking at his work files, but he hadn’t turned a page in hours. The email notification finally snapped him out of his daze. He was hesitating too. He wondered if he should forward it to Chloe as planned. Both Evan and Ethan knew that if I lost this competition, I would lose everything. Chloe would naturally become the sole heiress. This was the plan all along. They shouldn’t be hesitating now.

The award ceremony took place three days later. Chloe and I sat in the front row as finalists. Robert and Ethan sat in the VIP section as sponsors. The bronze and silver awards were announced one by one. With each name, Chloe grew more excited. She was extremely confident. When the silver list was finished and neither of our names had been called, the tension in the room reached its peak. This meant the grand prize—the Gold Award—would be between her and me. For us and the entire high-society circle, this was more than just a competition. Robert had already made it clear to the public: “Real or fake daughter? I only care about the strong.” “Whoever ranks higher in this competition will be the sole heir of the Sinclair family and marry into the Vance family. The other one will have nothing to do with us.” The spotlight danced between us. Finally, it locked onto me. “The Gold Award winner of this year’s Design Competition is—Elena!” Applause erupted like a tidal wave. I stood up. I could feel Chloe’s body go completely rigid beside me. I walked onto the stage and took the heavy trophy from the presenter. Robert stood up, a proud smile on his face as he congratulated me. But then, a disbelief-filled whisper came from below the stage. “Impossible… This is impossible…” Chloe’s face was white as a sheet. She abruptly stood up, staring at Ethan in the VIP section, her eyes filled with shock and betrayal. Ethan’s reaction was complicated. He seemed to have expected part of this, but another part clearly caught him off guard. Robert ignored her outburst. He ordered the security guards to keep an eye on Chloe so she wouldn’t cause trouble. Then, he took the microphone and addressed the media. “Since Elena won the Gold Award, I officially announce that she is now the sole heir to our family empire!” He paused and nodded toward Ethan in the VIP section. “And we have a double celebration tonight.” “Taking this opportunity, I officially announce the betrothal of my daughter, Elena, to the heir of the Vance family, Ethan!” But before Robert could finish, I stepped forward and gently covered his microphone. *Screech—* A harsh feedback noise rang through the speakers. The applause stopped instantly. The entire hall went dead silent, everyone looking at me in confusion. I met Robert’s shocked gaze and spoke into the microphone. “Father, you’ve got the wrong person.” I paused, my voice echoing clearly in every corner of the room. “He isn’t Ethan.” The air seemed to freeze. I stared at the man whose pupils dilated in shock, and said slowly, “Evan, are you still not done playing pretend?”

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