Category: English

1 The day the true heiress, Lydia, came back, she threw everything out of my room. “I’m the real daughter of this family. You, the imposter, can get the hell out.” “Oh, and before you go,” she added with a sneer, “you can pay back the money you’ve cost my family for the last twenty years. Let’s call it half a million a year. Ten million dollars. Wire it directly to my account.” I silently held out my phone, displaying a QR code for the Heir Verification System. “Of course, Miss Lydia. But before we get to that, you’ll need to join the queue and await identity verification.” Lydia slapped my phone away. “Evelyn Ashworth, who the hell do you think you are, trying to stop me from reuniting with my parents?” “I’m not stopping you,” I explained patiently. “I’m just asking you to follow the process. There’s a line.” But Lydia, desperate to claim her new life, wasn’t listening. “You think someone like me waits in line? Just wait until I find Mom and Dad. You’ll be thrown out onto the street where you belong.” What Lydia didn’t know was that four hundred and ninety-nine people had come before her, all claiming to be the long-lost Ashworth heiress. My parents, overwhelmed, had long ago delegated the entire verification process to me. … Lydia cornered my mother by the elevators, just as she was leaving a board meeting. “Mom!” she cried, dropping dramatically to her knees. “It’s me! I’m your real daughter!” My mother didn’t even glance down. Her assistant, Alex, stepped forward immediately. “Miss, if you wish to make a claim, please use the online booking system.” Tears streamed down Lydia’s face on cue. “Mom! Please, just look at me! My life has been so hard…” My mother finally looked up. She checked her watch. “Thirty-six seconds. Five seconds slower than last month’s girl. Not a record-breaker, kid.” Lydia froze. “What?” My mother pulled out her tablet and swiped a few times. “Candidate YM37, Lydia, age twenty-two. Resides in a low-income apartment complex on the east side. Both parents deceased, completed university on a scholarship.” The color drained from Lydia’s face. “You… you investigated me?” My mother patted her shoulder. “The acting’s not bad, but the script is stale. I suggest you watch episode eight of The Heiress Swap. That girl gave a much more convincing performance.” And with that, she was gone. At three in the afternoon, my father was doing his rounds at the Ashworth Department Store. Lydia appeared again, this time with a new strategy. “Dad!” she called out, holding up a photograph. “Look, I looked just like you when I was a child!” My father took the photo and examined it. “Nice photoshop job,” he said dryly. “But next time, remember to make the ears smaller. The Ashworths don’t have ears that big.” Lydia grew frantic. “But this is really me!” “Kid,” my father sighed, “last year, someone came to us with an AI-generated deepfake video. The technology was far more professional than this.” He handed the photo back to her. “Go find Evelyn. She handles these things.” Lydia stomped her foot in frustration. “Dad! How can you be so heartless?” “Call me Mr. Ashworth,” he said, not even turning back. At eight that evening, my grandmother’s private jet landed. Lydia had been waiting in the VIP arrivals lounge for hours. “Grandma!” she cried, kneeling and bowing her head to the floor. “I’m your real granddaughter!” My grandmother, still groggy from the flight and the time difference, squinted at her. “What number is this one for the year?” Her bodyguard replied, “The fifty-seventh, ma’am.” Grandma nodded. “Does she have an appointment?” Lydia was stunned. “N-no…” “Then that won’t do,” Grandma said with a wave of her hand. “Last year, a girl knelt at the airport for three days straight before we made an exception and squeezed her in.” She had the bodyguard help Lydia up and tucked a business card into her hand. “Here’s my granddaughter’s contact info. Schedule an appointment first.” Lydia looked down at the card. It read: Evelyn Ashworth, Head of Heiress Claims. Her face turned a sickly shade of green. 2 The next day, Lydia stormed into our house. “I want a DNA test!” she slammed her hand on the table. “Now! Right now!” My parents exchanged a weary glance. “Honey,” my mother began, “it’s not that we’re unwilling…” “You’re scared, aren’t you?” Lydia sneered. “Scared the test will prove I’m the real one.” My father rubbed his temples. “We had our blood drawn thirty times last year. We’ve already done it fifteen times since January. My doctor says I’m on the verge of becoming anemic.” Lydia was speechless. I walked in, carrying a tray of tea. “Actually, there are other ways.” “What ways?” she eyed me suspiciously. “Hair or nail clippings,” I said. “The technology is very advanced now; a blood sample isn’t always necessary.” Lydia’s eyes lit up. “Then let’s do it now!” I smiled. “We can. But you’ll still have to wait in line.” “What line?” “There’s a monthly quota for my parents’ hair and nail samples. This month’s is already full. There are over two hundred samples ahead of you in the queue for testing. The earliest slot for yours would be next month.” Lydia exploded. “Evelyn Ashworth! You’re doing this on purpose!” I shrugged. “I’m just following procedure.” Lydia couldn’t wait. She paid twenty thousand dollars to a scalper for an expedited appointment slot. This got her into the “Token Authentication Room” on the third floor. She strode in, head held high like a proud rooster. “I have the keepsake!” she declared, pulling out half of an ornate silver locket. “The nurse at the hospital gave this to me back then! It’s one of a kind!” The staff member, a young man named Kevin, took the locket and scanned her appointment barcode. “Candidate YM37, Lydia. Keepsake category: Locket.” Kevin read from his screen. “We currently have 287 items registered under the locket category.” Lydia’s smile froze. “How many?” “287,” Kevin confirmed, pulling up the data. “143 of them are halves, and 144 are complete.” “That’s impossible!” she shrieked. Kevin offered a polite smile. “It started with two halves that fit together. Then it evolved into quarters. He gestured to a website on his monitor. “Now we even have a ‘Locket Shard Jigsaw Puzzle’ service. Ninety-eight dollars, free shipping.” Lydia looked like she was going to be sick. I patched my voice through the room’s intercom. “Miss Lydia, your locket appears to be a ‘standard edition.’ Market value is about three hundred and eighty dollars.” Lydia whipped her head around, searching for the camera. “Evelyn Ashworth! You set me up!” “It’s called market research,” I replied cheerfully. But she wasn’t done yet. “I also have a birthmark!” She pulled down the collar of her shirt. “A butterfly on my left shoulder! It’s unique!” Kevin sighed and pulled up another database. “Of the 500 ‘heiress’ candidates who have registered this year, 108 claim to have a butterfly-shaped birthmark.” Lydia’s eyes widened. “How many?” “108,” Kevin repeated, enlarging the data visualization. “76 on the left shoulder, 32 on the right.” “But mine is different!” Lydia insisted. “It has a special shape!” Kevin nodded. “Yes. Candidate #43, Candidate #87, and Candidate #201 said the same thing.” He clicked through a gallery of photos. “#43’s butterfly has spots, #87’s has stripes, and #201’s is, and I quote, ‘rendered in 3D.’” Lydia’s lips trembled. “Impossible…” I couldn’t resist twisting the knife. “Miss Lydia, perhaps you should add a tattoo? Tattoos are now being accepted as potential authenticating marks.” Furious, she hurled her teacup against the wall. “You’ll have to pay for that,” Kevin said, instantly printing an invoice. “Custom-ordered porcelain. Two thousand, eight hundred dollars.” She still wouldn’t give up. “I look just like Mrs. Ashworth when she was young!” she pointed at a portrait on the wall. “Look at me!” Kevin sighed again and turned on the projector. An image of another young woman appeared on the screen. She didn’t just resemble my mother; she was a stunning mix of my mother, my father, and even my grandmother. “We refer to her as the ‘Family Portrait Composite,’” Kevin explained. “She won last year’s ‘Most Ashworth-like’ award.” 3 Lydia was quiet for three days. But I knew she was plotting something. Sure enough, she showed up at the Ashworth family’s quarterly gala. Halfway through the evening, a piercing shriek cut through the chatter. “My necklace is gone!” Lydia cried, clutching her throat. “It was a birthday gift from my foster mother!” The entire ballroom fell silent. All eyes turned to her. Lydia sobbed, “It was right here just a moment ago…” Her gaze swept the room before landing squarely on me. “Miss Ashworth,” she said, her voice trembling, “you were just in the powder room, weren’t you?” I raised an eyebrow. “I was.” “Well…” she hesitated for dramatic effect, “could I… could I just take a look inside your purse?” A wave of murmurs rippled through the crowd. My mother frowned. “Young lady, what exactly are you implying?” Tears welled in Lydia’s eyes again. “Mom, I don’t mean anything by it, I just want to find my…” I laughed, cutting her off. “Fine,” I said, handing her my clutch. “Be my guest.” Lydia took the purse and made a show of rummaging through it. Then, with a theatrical gasp, she “accidentally” tipped it upside down. Its contents spilled onto the floor. Lipstick, keys, a phone. And a glittering diamond necklace. “I found it!” Lydia exclaimed. “This is it!” She snatched the necklace and stared at me, her eyes brimming with tears. “Miss Ashworth, why would you…” “Lydia,” I interrupted, my voice calm and clear. “Do you know why the Ashworth ballroom is equipped with 128 security cameras?” She froze. “What?” I pulled out my phone and played the surveillance footage on a nearby screen. The video clearly showed Lydia sneaking up behind me and slipping the necklace into my open purse. “Over the past three years,” I announced, pulling up a file from our database, “a total of 47 ‘heiresses’ have attempted this exact stunt.” A staff member near the stage chimed in, “This marks the 48th time. Can we please get some new material?” I picked the necklace up from the floor. “And another thing… I bought this last week. I still have the receipt.” I looked directly at her. “Where’s yours?” Lydia’s face was a mask of fury and humiliation. “Is this how the Ashworth family treats their own daughter?” My grandmother let out a cold laugh. “The last person who said that is currently serving a five-year prison sentence.” Lydia fled the ballroom. The next day, the tabloids exploded. #AshworthHeiressInLateNightRendezvousWithRivalExec The accompanying photo showed me helping a man into a car. The angle was deliberately misleading, making it look like we were kissing. I glanced at the source: a notorious paparazzi blogger. I scrolled through the comments. “Here we go again. How many is that this year?” “The last guy who tried to pull a stunt like this had to pay a $5 million settlement.” “Dude, I’d delete this post. The Ashworth legal team is faster than Amazon Prime.” I posted a response on my public social media account: “Thank you, Lydia, for the free publicity on my new green energy project. And for helping me set a new record for the fastest lawsuit filed.” Attached was a photo of the freshly filed court documents. Lydia panicked, deleted the post, and vanished. On the third day, Lydia somehow got her hands on a visitor’s pass and snuck into the company headquarters. She walked into my office carrying a cup of coffee. “Miss Ashworth,” she said, keeping her head down. “I’m sorry about yesterday…” I didn’t take the cup. “Just put it on the desk.” She set it down but didn’t leave. “Is there something else?” I asked. She bit her lip. “Can you forgive me?” I smiled faintly. “You should probably go now.” She turned to leave, her shoulders slumped in defeat. I picked up the coffee, sniffed it, and then pressed a button on my desk console. “Miss Lydia is suspected of attempted poisoning,” I announced into the intercom. “Please escort her for questioning.” Lydia whipped around. “You’re lying! I didn’t do anything!” I pointed at the cup. “Did you know that all Ashworth corporate drinkware is custom-made?” She stared, confused. “There’s a chemical sensor at the base,” I explained, showing her my phone. “It can detect most common substances.” The screen displayed a clear alert: LAXATIVE DETECTED. 23rd attempt this year. Lydia’s face went white. “That’s… that’s impossible!” Security guards rushed into the room. “You can’t do this to me!” she shrieked as they took her arms. I held up a thick binder of files. “I can,” I said coolly. “Based on the eighty-nine individuals who have tried this in the past five years. All of whom were successfully prosecuted.” As they dragged her away, she was still screaming, “Evelyn Ashworth! You just wait! I’ll be back!”

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1 I walked out of the doctor’s office, clutching the test results, my face grim. My husband glanced at the report and saw the three words that would change everything: Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis. He didn’t say a word. He went home and cooked me a feast of all my favorite dishes, the ones he was famous for. After we ate, he looked at me, his expression serious. “Chloe,” he said, “we still have to put our son through college. This disease… it’s a bottomless pit. There’s no cure. Maybe we shouldn’t even try to treat it.” I stared at him, stunned. He continued, “If it were me, I wouldn’t want the treatment either. I couldn’t let one person drag down the whole family.” “Chloe, I hope you understand.” Of course, I understood him. So I nodded. “Okay. We won’t treat it.” What he didn’t seem to realize was that I wasn’t the one who was sick. 2 Mark had been complaining of weakness and fatigue for a while. I hadn’t been feeling great myself, so we went to the hospital for a check-up together. When the results came back, the doctor called me into his office alone. “You’re Mark’s wife, correct? Based on his test results, he has ALS.” Those three letters exploded in my mind. I knew exactly what they meant. “Doctor, money is no object for us. Please, do everything you can to slow the progression of my husband’s illness, to give him a few more years of quality life. Where there’s life, there’s hope. I don’t care if we have to sell everything we own.” I was trembling when I left the office. I tried to compose myself, but Mark could tell something was wrong. He glanced at the papers in my hand. I quickly stuffed them into my purse. Mark didn’t say anything, just pulled me into his arms. “You must be hungry. Let’s go home, I’ll cook you something delicious.” He made a spread of all my favorites. I couldn’t hold it in any longer. The tears started to fall. He gently wiped them away. “Let’s eat first. We can talk after.” I guessed he already knew. After dinner, we sat in silence for a long time. Finally, Mark broke the silence. “Chloe, maybe we shouldn’t treat it.” I sobbed. “No! The doctor said with proper treatment, we can manage the symptoms. He can still have a few good years!” “But the cost of treating ALS is astronomical. It’s hundreds of thousands a year. It’s too much for us.” I grabbed his hand. “Don’t worry about the money. We both have good salaries. Even if only one of us is working, we can afford it. We’ll just have to tighten our belts a little.” “Chloe, we still have to put our son through college. Your illness is a bottomless pit with no cure. Let’s just not treat it.” I froze. “What did you say?” “If it were me, I wouldn’t want the treatment either. I couldn’t let one person drag down the whole family.” “Chloe, I hope you understand.” So that was it. He hadn’t seen the name on the report. He thought I was the one who was sick. I pulled my hand away. The tears stopped instantly. It’s amazing how quickly love can die. “Okay,” I said, my voice flat. “I understand. We won’t treat it.” 3 Mark visibly relaxed. He took my hand again. “Chloe, it’s not about the money. I’m just thinking about our son’s future.” “He’ll need to go to college, maybe study abroad. He’ll want to get married someday. All of that costs money. If we drain our savings on medical bills, what will he do?” “And the most important thing is, there’s no cure for your disease. Why would we waste money on something that can’t be fixed?” I pulled my hand back. “That’s enough. You don’t have to say any more. We won’t treat it. It is a waste of money. And since you said you wouldn’t get treatment if it were you, how can I argue?” “I’m glad you understand. We can use the money we save to travel. See the world, try new things, experience different cultures. It’ll be great!” For a second, I felt a pang of guilt. Had I misjudged him? I wanted Mark’s last days to be happy. “Okay, then. Book the tickets. You pick the place. We’ll go as a family, wherever you want to go.” “Great. I’ll start looking up destinations.” He spent the rest of the evening on his phone. I assumed he was researching our trip. Three days passed, and I heard nothing. “Mark, have you picked a place? When are we leaving? I need to request time off from work.” He avoided my eyes. “I was about to book the tickets, but my dad was suddenly hospitalized. I have to go be with him. And I don’t feel right about you and our son going alone.” “Let’s wait a little while. When my dad is better, we’ll go.” Mark had a tell. Whenever he lied, his eyes darted back and forth. “Then I should go see your dad.” “No, don’t. Hospitals are no place for you to be right now. Dad will understand.” “By the way, I won’t be home after work today. I’m going to the hospital to stay with him.” I didn’t call him out on it. I just nodded and said okay. At seven o’clock that evening, the GPS on Mark’s phone showed his location as a high-end karaoke bar. I took a cab straight there. After a quick word with the hostess, I went to the private room he was in. The door was slightly ajar. Before I even went in, I could hear Mark’s voice, booming with confidence. “Everyone here is a good friend of Jessica’s, so don’t hold back! Whatever you want to drink, whatever you want to eat, order it. It’s on me!” Cheers erupted from the room. “Mark’s the man! Jessica will be in good hands with you.” Mark had his arm around a woman I didn’t recognize, a wide grin on his face. I pushed the door open. “Mark. Is this what you call ‘staying with your dad at the hospital’?” The noisy room fell silent. Mark snatched his arm back from the woman’s shoulder as if he’d been electrocuted. “Chloe, what are you doing here?” “If I hadn’t come, I wouldn’t have known you were having such a party. Who was it I just heard was going to be ‘in your hands’?” “This is Jessica. She’s my new secretary.” “We just closed a big deal at work, so I’m treating everyone to a night out. My dad has a nurse with him, so you don’t need to worry.” “I’ve been to your office dozens of times. I know all your colleagues. How is it that I don’t recognize a single person here?” Jessica stood up, her face a mask of cold fury. “They’re my friends.” I laughed. “How generous of you, Mark. Treating your new secretary’s friends to a place this expensive.” “Why don’t you introduce me to everyone?” Mark stood frozen. I linked my arm through his and addressed the room. “Let me introduce myself. I’m Mark’s wife. My name is Chloe.” 4 The room was dead silent. A girl sitting next to Jessica sneered. “I know who you are. You’re Mark’s wife, the one with ALS.” “Mark is a saint for not divorcing you, knowing you have a disease like that.” I looked at Mark. “So, even your new secretary’s friends know about this? You’re not exactly discreet, are you?” Mark didn’t say a word. I walked over to Jessica. “Are you that desperate to take my place?” Jessica’s lip trembled, and she started to cry. Mark stormed over, yanked me away from her, and slapped me across the face. “I organized this party! I was the one who told Jessica to invite her friends! If you’re angry, take it out on me!” I stared at the man in front of me, this man who was so consumed with rage on behalf of another woman. I didn’t recognize him. One illness had shown me the true face of the man I slept next to every night. Mark was furious. “You’ve ruined the whole mood.” He called the waiter over. “The check.” “That’s it for tonight, everyone. I’ll treat you all again some other time.” The waiter brought the bill. The total was over ten thousand dollars. Mark paid it without batting an eye. I burst out laughing. No money to treat his dying wife, but plenty to lavish on his mistress. Mark called a car service to take us home. The moment we walked through the door, he said, “Chloe, let’s get a divorce.” I paused. “Are you sure?” “I’m sure.” “Fine. Then let’s talk about how we’re going to divide our assets.” “We have twenty thousand in savings. We’ll each take ten. The house and our son, they’re both mine. You don’t have a problem with that, do you?” Rage surged through me. “Mark, we’ve been married for ten years. We should have at least three hundred thousand in savings. Now you’re telling me there’s only twenty thousand left? Are you kidding me?” “And the house? You bought it with a mortgage. We’ve been paying it off together. Why should you get it? And our son, I’m fighting for him.” “There really is only twenty thousand left in savings. I forgot to tell you, I invested the rest in a small business venture. It all went bust.” “And the house, even though we were both paying the mortgage, the deed is in my parents’ names. So it has nothing to do with you.” I slammed my hand on the table. “Mark! When we got married, you told me this was your house!” “It is my house. Can’t I put my house in my parents’ names?” “Fine. You want to play dirty? Then I’m not divorcing you. Let’s see who outlasts who.” “Chloe! How long do you think you have left to live? If you don’t divorce me, then I’ll just wait for you to die!” I scoffed. “Then let’s wait. Let’s see which one of us dies first.” Mark threw a teacup against the wall. “I must have been cursed to have married you!” He stormed out, slamming the door behind him. This time, I didn’t care where he went. I immediately contacted a lawyer to discuss the divorce and asked her to investigate Mark’s transfer of our marital assets, as well as how to win custody of our son. Our eight-year-old son was terrified by our fighting. “Mommy, are you and Daddy going to get a divorce?” he asked, his voice trembling. I pulled him into my arms. “Sweetheart, if Mommy and Daddy separate, will you hate me?” He shook his head. “It’s not your fault. It’s because Daddy likes that other lady.” He took out the Polaroid camera I had bought him. “I took a picture of Daddy kissing her.”

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Two years ago, my best friend’s catering business was on the brink of bankruptcy. I put my own job on the line to secure her an exclusive contract with my company’s cafeteria. That deal was worth over a million dollars a year. I thought she would be grateful for life. Until someone sent me a recording. It was her husband’s voice: “Her? She’s just skimming kickbacks from us. Don’t act like she’s some saint.” I listened to it and smiled. I didn’t explain. I didn’t confront them. Three days later, the contract was awarded to the restaurant she hated most. When she called me, sobbing and begging, I replied with just two words: “Reflect on it.” 1 On a sunny Friday afternoon, I felt a chill that reached my bones. An anonymous email sat in my inbox with a subject line of just two words: “Listen.” The attachment was an audio file. My finger hovered over the mouse, a sense of dread gripping my heart. I put on my headphones and clicked play. After a burst of background noise, a man’s rough, bragging voice pierced my eardrums. It was Greg, my best friend Chloe’s husband. “Audrey? Don’t let her ‘professional’ act fool you. She acts so high and mighty.” “She gave us the contract, sure, but you think she isn’t taking a cut?” “A million dollars in revenue a year, and she doesn’t want a penny? Is she running a charity? Do you believe that?” “It’s just that my Chloe is too honest and kind, willing to let her take advantage. Otherwise, why would such a good thing fall into her lap?” “She’s a butcher. She talks about helping, but she’s holding a knife, cutting our meat piece by piece.” “If it weren’t for the money she brings, who would want to kiss her ass?” The recording wasn’t long, three minutes and twenty seconds. I listened to it expressionlessly. Once, twice. Until that sharp, mean tone drove every word into my brain like steel needles. I took off my headphones. The office was so quiet I could hear the hum of the central AC. The cold air crept down my neck, chilling me to my feet. My mind involuntarily flashed back to two years ago. Chloe’s “Chloe’s Kitchen” had a broken capital chain. She couldn’t pay wages for months and was about to close down. She came to me with red eyes, a woman nearing thirty crying like a child in front of me. “Audrey, help me. This restaurant is my mom’s life’s work. I can’t let it die.” We grew up together. I couldn’t watch her fall. During that time, I withstood pressure from everyone in the company, slamming tables in board meetings with senior directors. I used my position as Administrative Director and my personal reputation as collateral to guarantee that “Chloe’s Kitchen” would provide top-tier catering service. In the end, I secured the exclusive contract for the company cafeteria for her. A steady flow of over a million dollars a year was enough to bring her back from the dead. The day we signed the contract, Chloe held my hand, crying harder than before. She said, “Audrey, I’ll remember this kindness for the rest of my life.” “From now on, my life is yours.” Greg, standing beside her, dropped his usual aloofness. He bowed and scraped, his face piled with a flattering smile. He served me tea and peeled fruit, calling me “Sister Audrey” sweeter than a real brother. “Sister Audrey, you are our family’s savior. We’ll work like horses for you.” The more sincere the smiles in my memory, the more vicious the voice in the recording. Two years. Just two years. The friendship I wholeheartedly protected was, in their eyes, just a transaction to brag about and smear. The help I thought was saving a life became the “kickbacks” of my insatiable greed in their mouths. A wave of physiological nausea rose from my stomach. I didn’t call to question or argue in anger as they might have imagined. Meaningless. Arguing with ungrateful wolves only dirties my mouth. I carefully saved the recording and the email into an encrypted folder. Then, I closed my email as if nothing had happened. I opened the company’s internal supplier database and typed three words. “Taste of Home.” The light from the computer screen reflected coldly on my gold-rimmed glasses. I calmly handled all the afternoon’s pending work, wrote my weekly report, and organized the agenda for next week’s meeting. At 5:30 PM, I clocked out on time. Walking out of the office building, the city lights were just coming on. But the warmth of the world could no longer reach my heart. Before the storm, it is always calm. 2 The next day was Saturday, and I didn’t have to go to the office. But my biological clock woke me up at 7 AM sharp. Outside, the sky was gray, threatening rain. I didn’t stay in bed. I got up, washed, and made myself a simple breakfast. My phone vibrated. A small internal company group chat was flashing. A few colleagues I was on good terms with were chatting. “Omg, did you guys eat the lunch yesterday? That braised pork was so greasy I almost threw up.” “More than greasy, I suspect the kitchen spilled the salt shaker. It was bitter.” “It’s been two months. The cafeteria food is getting worse. Too salty, too oily, bugs in the vegetables.” “Shh, keep it down. She’s Director Audrey’s relative after all. We shouldn’t say too much.” “What relative? I heard they’re best friends. Tight as thieves.” “But it should still be worth the money we pay, right? This quality is worse than cheap takeout.” The phrase “Director Audrey’s relative” pricked my eyes like a tiny thorn. I put down my sandwich, appetite gone. Because of Chloe, my professionalism had been discounted in the eyes of my colleagues. I became the person who practiced nepotism, sacrificing employee welfare to take care of “connections.” I opened Instagram and scrolled down out of habit. Greg’s profile picture appeared in the latest feed. A carefully edited selfie with the steering wheel of a brand-new black sports car in the background, the logo shining brightly. On his wrist was a new luxury watch. The caption read: “Wifey worked hard. All our efforts deserve the best rewards!” Between the lines, uncontrollable pride and showing off. I clicked on the picture and zoomed in. Blinding. I laughed coldly. So “efforts” meant badmouthing me behind my back, painting me as a greedy vampire? It meant lowering the employee food standards again and again, cutting costs to fund your luxury life? Under the post, Chloe’s comment was first. A heart emoji, followed by: “Hubby is the best!” How loving. How harmonious. My finger unconsciously scrolled up, looking through their posts from the last two years. From cautious beginnings to reckless extravagance. New car today, new house tomorrow, Europe trip the day after. Greg’s feed was a live record of a nouveau riche lifestyle. And me? I looked down at my phone, used for almost three years, scratches on the edges. For two years, to help their restaurant balance the books and get on track, I even proactively shortened their settlement period from quarterly to monthly. This meant so much more communication and paperwork for me, so many more rounds with Finance. Did they forget all this? No, they didn’t forget. They just felt it was all deserved. That I should do it. The fire suppressed in my chest finally found an outlet and burned fiercely. I’m not running a charity. My kindness and friendship are not cheap goods for them to squander and trample on. I exited Instagram and found a number in my contacts I rarely contacted. The note said “Taste of Home – Leo.” I dialed his number. “Hello?” A capable, steady male voice came from the other end. “Mr. Leo, hello. This is Audrey Lin.” My voice was calm, without a ripple. “I’d like to meet you to discuss the cafeteria supplier contract for our company. Do you have time tomorrow?” 3 I met Leo at a downtown coffee shop. He arrived before me. When I entered, he was sitting by the window with a laptop, typing rapidly. He wore a well-fitted dark gray suit, hair combed meticulously, radiating professionalism. Seeing me, he immediately closed his laptop, stood up, and extended his hand. “Director Lin, pleasure.” His hand was warm and firm, his gaze open and bright. “Mr. Leo, likewise.” We sat opposite each other, skipping the small talk. Leo took a thick stack of documents from his briefcase and pushed them to me. “Director Lin, this is our initial catering proposal and quote tailored for your company.” I flipped through it. The plan was incredibly detailed, covering nutritional balance, a seven-day non-repeating menu, and custom meals for holidays. Every ingredient source and inspection report was attached at the back. Most importantly, his quote, while guaranteeing higher quality, was actually 10% cheaper than Chloe’s “Chloe’s Kitchen.” I looked up at him. Leo met my gaze frankly. “Director Lin, I won’t hide it from you. I have a bit of a history with Greg from Chloe’s Kitchen.” He didn’t embellish, just stated facts calmly. “My previous head chef was poached by him with triple the salary, taking several of our signature recipes.” “After that, he went around saying Taste of Home’s food wasn’t fresh and hygiene wasn’t up to standard.” I listened quietly without interrupting. I had heard rumors of these old grudges in the catering world, but hearing it from the person involved felt different. There was no resentment on Leo’s face, only a businessman’s calm and honesty. “So, if your company is willing to give me this chance,” he paused, his tone firm, “I am willing to offer another two percent discount on this basis. Furthermore, I can personally sign an unlimited joint liability food safety guarantee with the company.” “I need this order not just for profit, but to prove that Taste of Home is better than them.” His eyes shone with an unconquerable, vigorous ambition. This contrasted sharply with Chloe’s helpless cowardice and Greg’s narrow vanity. I appreciated him. A reliable adult, a trustworthy partner, should look like this. “Mr. Leo.” I closed the proposal, leaning forward slightly to look into his eyes. “Your professionalism and honesty have moved me.” “No need for the extra discount. We’ll go with this quote.” “I have only one request. From the first day of cooperation, I want my colleagues to eat the best work meals in the city.” Leo’s eyes lit up instantly. He nodded heavily: “Director Lin, rest assured. I guarantee it with my reputation.” We drafted a letter of intent on the spot. Shaking hands goodbye, Leo said to me: “Director Lin, thank you.” I smiled: “You should thank your own professionalism.” Returning to the empty office, I sat at my desk and opened my computer. First, I drafted a formal report on terminating the catering service cooperation with “Chloe’s Kitchen.” In the report, I included no personal emotions. Only facts. I attached screenshots and negative data statistics from the internal forum and anonymous feedback channels regarding poor food quality and hygiene concerns over the past three months. Employee satisfaction had dropped from 90% two years ago to less than 30% now. Shocking. Next, I drafted a second report on the public tender and introduction of the new supplier “Taste of Home.” In the proposal, I made a clear comparison table between Leo’s plan and quote versus “Chloe’s Kitchen’s” current service and price. The winner was obvious at a glance. All documents were ready. I saved them on the desktop, named “Final Plan.” The sky outside darkened. Looking at the cold text on the screen, my heart was calm. Everything was ready. Tomorrow would be an interesting day. 4 Monday, 9:00 AM. The internal bulletin board and all employees’ inboxes received a notification from the Administration Department simultaneously. “Notice Regarding the Change of Cafeteria Catering Service Supplier”. Black and white, official wording, but it was like a depth charge dropped into a calm lake. The whole company boiled over. Break rooms, office areas, department group chats were instantly flooded with cheers of “Long live,” “Finally changed,” and “Admin is wise.” A colleague even posted a screenshot of the notice on social media with the caption: “Happiest thing today: finally don’t have to eat pig swill anymore!” 10:30 AM. The delivery van from “Chloe’s Kitchen” drove slowly downstairs as usual. Then, it was stopped by security. “Sorry, sir. Starting today, our company has changed cafeteria suppliers. Your vehicle cannot enter the garage.” The driver, Chloe’s cousin, was dumbfounded. He immediately called Chloe. When Chloe got the call, she probably thought it was a mistake. She hung up and started calling me frantically. Once, twice, three times. Watching the name “Chloe” flashing on my screen, I muted it and tossed the phone to the corner of my desk. When calls didn’t work, she started texting. “Audrey, what’s going on? Security won’t let our car in.” “Are you joking? Tell them to let us in.” “Audrey? Answer me!” I ignored her. At this moment, I was in the conference room with Leo and the legal department, signing the formal contract. Leo had changed into a more formal dark suit, excitement unhidden in his eyes. He signed his name, then we exchanged contracts and shook hands. “Pleasure working with you.” “Pleasure.” On the other side, Chloe, receiving no reply, was going crazy. She abandoned her car on the roadside and rushed into our company lobby like a headless fly. “I’m looking for Audrey Lin! I’m your supplier!” she shouted at the reception. My secretary had received my instructions and politely but firmly stopped her. “Ms. Chen, sorry, Director Lin is in a meeting. You cannot go up without an appointment.” Blocked outside the turnstiles, she sweated profusely, spinning in circles. The embarrassment of her predicament turned her decent face liver-red. She finally gave up, took out her phone, and sent me a long text message. Her tone shifted from questioning to panic-stricken begging. “Audrey, what do you mean? Our friendship of so many years, how can you cut it off just like that? Without even a heads-up?” “Did I do something wrong? Tell me, I’ll change, okay?” “Pick up the phone! Say something! If you do this, my restaurant is finished!” I finished signing, saw Leo off, and returned to my office. Picking up my phone, I saw the text full of breakdown. I looked at it calmly, then typed four words. “Reflect on yourself.” Sent. At the same time, Greg’s social media exploded. He probably saw the celebratory screenshots from my colleagues or got a call from Chloe. He sent a string of question marks in our mutual friend group. “@Audrey, what’s the meaning of this?” No one answered him. Minutes later, he posted a new status, naming no names, but obvious to everyone. “Some people are truly ungrateful wolves. Give them a little sunshine and they think they’re the sun. Who do they think they are!” The picture was a selfie of him rolling his eyes. Looking at that twisted, resentful face, I only found it laughable. The show had just begun.

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1. My mother poured all her hopes into my brother. “My son will be extraordinary,” she said. “Every second of your life is precious.” She controlled every moment of his day—even making him recite English vocabulary in the bathroom. She used physical punishment, verbal abuse, and guilt as her main teaching tools. Under the pressure, my brother fell into depression and tried to kill himself by cutting his wrists. I begged Mom to stop. Instead, she wrapped his bleeding wrist with duct tape. “This way, the blade can’t cut through,” she said calmly. “If you’re going to cut, use this hand. You need your right hand for writing.” After a dozen canes were broken across his back and there was no unmarked skin left, he was accepted into Oxford. The day he got his acceptance letter, he jumped from the roof. I thought his death would break Mom’s obsession. Instead, she turned to me. “My sweet girl,” she said, a strange light in her eyes, “Mommy will make you even more successful than your brother.” But before she could start, on the seventh day after his death, my grandfather—who had been in a coma for twenty years—woke up. And the first thing he did was continue the project he had started long ago: to forge his daughter into a success. … My brother was dead. The day he found out his exam scores, the day my mother was already on the phone inviting all our relatives to come and see her perfect creation, he jumped from the roof. There was no dramatic scene with people trying to talk him down. He just jumped. Cleanly, decisively. As if he had completely given up on the world. Looking at his unrecognizable body, I felt a strange sense of relief mixed with my grief. “Isn’t that the Miller boy? I heard he did really well on his exams. Why would he do something like this?” “Kids these days have no resilience. His mother worked so hard to raise him, and this is how he repays her.” “I know, right? That poor woman. She raised him all by herself, made him so successful, and he just throws it all away. What an ungrateful brat.” No one cared why my brother jumped. They only saw a single mother to be pitied. They were wrong. I wanted to speak up for my brother, to tell them how suffocating and painful his life had been in that house. But the words wouldn’t come. I didn’t have the strength. He was already gone. Nothing I said would change that. I stole a glance at my mother. Her expression was a complex mask I couldn’t decipher. Would his death make her reflect on her actions? Not a chance. Because I heard her mutter, “What a waste. All those years of training, and now I have to start all over again.” Then, her eyes found mine. A chill spread through my entire body. I couldn’t move. My mother dragged me home without a second glance at my brother’s body. Someone from the crowd called her name. I couldn’t help but ask, “Mom, aren’t we going to do something about brother?” She didn’t even turn around. “Chloe, you’re not as naturally gifted as your brother. You don’t have time to waste on irrelevant things.” Her coldness made me snap. “That’s my brother! Your son! Is studying the only thing you care about? We’re human beings, not trophies for you to show off! Can’t you at least take care of his funeral?” Her response was a sharp, stinging slap across my face. “In the time it took you to say that, you could have memorized twenty vocabulary words.” My mother hadn’t changed at all. She couldn’t stand the thought of her children being average. She would do anything to get them into a top university, to ensure they had a good career. She didn’t care what they had to endure in the process. All that mattered was the result. It used to be my brother. Now, it was my turn. 2 My mother really did ignore my brother. Neighbors and police officers knocked on our door repeatedly, but she refused to deal with his body. When they became too persistent, she would just scream at them. “He’s a useless piece of trash! Why should I waste my precious time on him? Can’t you just find a ditch and bury him somewhere?” The police, at a loss, had to contact other relatives to handle the arrangements. All my mother did was push me to study. She held my last midterm exam paper, her brow furrowed. “How could you get such a simple question wrong? Your brother never made such a stupid mistake! It seems your foundation is very weak. From now on, you will sleep only six hours a night. You have to work harder than everyone else to get into Oxford or Cambridge!” Those were the only two universities that existed in her world. On the first day after my brother’s death, I already felt like I couldn’t breathe. My mother created a strict schedule for me. Three minutes to get out of bed. If I failed, I had to memorize vocabulary in the living room in my pajamas. Five minutes to eat. As much as I could shovel down. If I was still hungry, I had to study on an empty stomach. Two minutes for the bathroom. The second the time was up, my mother would burst in and drag me out, regardless of what I was doing. I failed on the very first day. It was winter, and the five a.m. alarm was brutal. I groggily turned it off and fell back asleep. Three minutes later, I was dragged from my warm bed, and a freezing, wet towel was slapped onto my face. I was instantly awake. I was only in my thin pajamas and wanted to change, but my mother stopped me. “Time is life. The time for changing has passed. Take your book and go to the living room.” The living room was filled with an intimidating number of electronic screens, all displaying countdown timers. When a timer hit zero, a piercing alarm would sound. My mother had deliberately opened a window to keep me alert. I stood there, shivering so hard my teeth chattered. My mother glanced at me coldly. “The cold won’t kill you. You need to be physically fit for the PE exam anyway. This is how your brother built up his endurance.” As soon as my food was served, a timer started. Five minutes. I had five minutes to eat. I stuffed food into my mouth, chewing frantically, not even stopping when I bit my tongue. I knew no one would feel sorry for me. The only person who would have was gone. As I ate, tears of frustration and despair streamed down my face. Was a good grade really that important? Under my mother’s supervision, I memorized a hundred English words, completed four reading comprehensions, and wrote half an essay. When it was almost time for school, for the first time in my life, I thought school was the most wonderful place on earth. But my mother couldn’t stand to see me happy. She wouldn’t let me change my clothes for school. “I told you, you wasted the time for changing. Now you have to face the consequences.” I fought back. I pushed past her, trying to get to my room. “You dare try to change?” I turned back, my eyes wide with terror. My mother had opened the window and had one leg over the sill. “If you don’t listen to me, I’ll jump from here!” The crazed look on her face paralyzed me. I had rarely seen her like this. Unlike with my brother, I had been mostly left to my own devices, sent to a boarding school for middle school. Whenever my mother had one of her episodes, my brother would send me to my room and handle her himself. I swallowed hard, my voice trembling. “Mom! What are you doing? Please, just get down from there!” She glared at me and shifted more of her weight outside, teetering precariously. “Are you going to listen to me or not?!” I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to become like my brother. But I couldn’t risk it. I couldn’t be sure she wouldn’t actually jump. I had already lost my brother. I couldn’t lose my last remaining family member. I fell to my knees, banging my head on the floor. “I’m begging you, please get down! I won’t change my clothes!” A triumphant smile spread across my mother’s face. I knew, in that moment, that I was done for.

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It was time to pay for health insurance again. My mother called me. “Your father and I aren’t planning to pay this year. We’re both healthy, no need to waste money.” She said this every year, and every year I would volunteer to pay for them. This year, however, I didn’t want to. “If you don’t want to pay, then don’t. Just don’t regret it later.” Mom was silent for a few seconds, then hung up without a word. I knew she was angry, but I felt nothing. It wasn’t that I couldn’t spare the eight hundred dollars. It was that I was fed up with her cruel stupidity. 1 Not long after I hung up, my mother called again. “You don’t need to pay for us either. We don’t need it, and we certainly won’t thank you.” I chuckled humorlessly. “Of course. It’s not like I have money to burn.” Why bother doing something so thankless? Mom said nothing, her breathing growing ragged. I knew she was angry, but I had no desire to appease her. “If there’s nothing else, I’m hanging up. I’m at work.” “What if you secretly pay for us anyway?” she suddenly blurted out. “After all, you always used to, and you’ve always prided yourself on being a dutiful daughter.” Her sarcastic tone made a sudden irritation flare within me. “What exactly do you want?” “Swear on the baby in your belly. Otherwise, you’ll claim we’re taking advantage of you again.” My hand, holding the phone, unconsciously tightened, almost crushing the device. My husband, Michael, and I got married last year. We’d been trying for a baby for over a year, with two pregnancies. The first ended in miscarriage at two months. The second was now, barely three months along, and showing signs of threatened miscarriage again. She wasn’t asking me to swear; she was cursing my child. This was my own mother, Eleanor Stone. Ever since I was a child, if I ever displeased her in the slightest, she would brutally strike at my weakest points. The more I suffered, the happier she seemed. I clenched my fist, wanting to say, How about I swear on my mother instead? A living adult surely carries more weight than a tiny embryo. But I opened my mouth again and again, yet couldn’t bring myself to utter such vicious words. “What, you don’t dare?” she sneered. “Oh, come on, you’re usually so brave, ignoring us all year.” She knew I couldn’t be that cruel, so she doubled down on her provocation. “You’re on the verge of your second miscarriage and still arguing with me. Can’t you see? Even heaven is on my side.” I trembled with anger, tears welling in my eyes. I hated my tearful outbursts! Not wanting my distress to affect the baby in my belly, I hung up the phone and blocked her number. That evening, my mother posted on social media. “Getting old is truly useless. Can’t even pay for insurance on my phone. My only daughter is married now, busy taking care of her own little family, no time for me at all. What’s the point of living like this? God, please take me away quickly, don’t let me burden my child anymore!” A long message, seemingly self-reproachful, but actually a thinly veiled accusation. Uncle George was the first to comment, asking Mom what was wrong and if she needed help. Aunt Carol quickly followed, urging Mom not to think about doing anything drastic, offering to come stay with her immediately. Tomorrow was Grandma’s birthday. All the children and grandchildren would be there to celebrate. Mom had posted this simply to brand me “unfilial,” then rally everyone to condemn me and force me to submit. Michael looked at me worriedly. “Maybe you shouldn’t go tomorrow. You’re not feeling well right now, and it’s perfectly understandable if you don’t.” I shook my head. I had to go. I couldn’t let her ruin my reputation. I would reveal the truth in front of everyone, letting them know what she did a year ago. As I expected, the next day, upon entering Grandma’s house, I saw Mom leaning on Aunt Carol’s shoulder, wiping away tears. Uncle George looked at me with disapproval. “Bethany, I’m not usually one to lecture, but your mother raised you with such hardship. How can you treat her like this, not even paying for her health insurance!” Aunt Martha chimed in. “For years, my husband and I have had our health insurance paid by your cousin Thomas without even asking. It’s only eight hundred dollars, Beth. A few fewer meals out and you’d have it.” Aunt Carol spoke earnestly. “Your mother said you used to pay for her and your father’s insurance, but this year you suddenly refused. Did your in-laws instigate this? Bethany, don’t mind me for speaking plainly, but you can’t forget your own family for your new one. When things get tough, it’s your own family that will support you.” 2 Seeing everyone in the room speaking up for her, Mom cried even louder. “Ever since she got married last year, she’s changed completely. She doesn’t come home anymore, doesn’t care for her parents. I don’t know what we did wrong to make her hate us so much!” She accused, tears streaming, her swollen eyes making it seem as though she was genuinely suffering immense grievance. I looked at her coldly. “Did I distance myself from you because of my marriage? Last year, I transferred eight hundred dollars to you for health insurance. Did you pay it? What did you do with that money?” Ever since graduating from college and starting work, my paychecks had gone directly to my mother. Last year, when I got married, I wanted my card back. She threw a fit. “Don’t get too love-struck! You’ve only been married three months and you’re already giving your paychecks to his family!” I knew she was unwilling, but I needed money to live my life. Besides, I hadn’t taken a single penny of my sixty-thousand-dollar wedding funds; I’d given it all to her. To appease her, I pulled out my phone to pay for her and Dad’s health insurance. I wanted her to know that taking back my paycheck didn’t mean I wouldn’t care for them anymore. But she shot me a sideways glance. “Don’t bother. Just transfer the money to me, and I’ll take care of it myself.” I couldn’t argue with her, so I did as she asked. Who knew she hadn’t paid the health insurance at all? Instead, she’d put the eight hundred dollars in a gift envelope and ‘adopted’ a goddaughter. “What’s wrong with me adopting a goddaughter? I told you to buy your marital home near our house so it’d be convenient to look after your father and me, but you didn’t listen. Melanie moved in across the street and has often looked after and helped us. She’s much better than you!” Mom jutted out her chin, looking perfectly righteous. I suppressed the turmoil in my heart. “Don’t tell me you don’t know that Melanie bullied me for three years in middle school!” She led the charge to ostracize me, tore up my textbooks, burned my hair with a lighter, publicly pulled up my skirt, and spread vile rumors about me behind my back… For three whole years, she clung to me like a demon. Every single one of her cruel acts still tormented me, even now. Because of her, I didn’t get into a good high school. I even fell into depression, unable to pull myself out, and almost did something terrible. And my own mother had adopted that demon as her goddaughter. Mom scoffed. “Bullying this, bullying that. Was it really that serious? Kids playing together always have squabbles.” “Besides, didn’t she apologize to you later? Why are you still holding a grudge? You’re so petty.” All these years, she hadn’t changed one bit. Just like when I cried and begged her to go to school and stand up for me, she had instead asked: Why do they only bully you, and not others? Aunt Carol also shrugged it off. “Kids fighting is normal. It all happened so long ago, just let it go. You need to be more magnanimous.” Aunt Martha added, “Yes, to give your mother the silent treatment for a whole year over such a small thing, you really hold a grudge.” No one sympathized with me. They only defended Mom, accusing me of overreacting. Seeing this, Mom pressed her advantage. “You don’t even think, why I adopted Melanie as a goddaughter? Isn’t it because you’re unreliable, disappointing and hurting me again and again!” She pointed at her own chest as she spoke. I gave a bitter laugh. “What did I do that made you feel I was unreliable? Was it not buying a house near your home, as you wished? Or taking back my own paycheck from you?” 3 In our small town, a fifteen-minute drive would get you anywhere. All she needed to do was call, and no matter how busy or late it was, I would rush over. My paychecks, though I’d taken them back, I’d left her the sixty-thousand-dollar wedding funds. Was that still not enough? No! Not for her. She knew very well the harm Melanie had inflicted on me. She deliberately adopted her as a goddaughter, just to anger me, to punish my disobedience. “Mom, your need for control is too strong, you want too much. I truly can’t satisfy you.” I am a living, breathing person with my own thoughts, not a puppet on strings. My cousins exchanged glances. “Your paychecks were with your parents before you got married?” “Are you kidding? Of course I keep my own paycheck.” “Do you have to give wedding funds to your parents? I’m not married, I don’t know.” “Wedding funds are seed money for the new family. Parents usually don’t take them.” “So, Bethany’s actually pretty filial, then. Why is Aunt Eleanor still unhappy?” “Who knows? Anyway, I think she’s much more dutiful than I am.” They chatted excitedly in low voices. Uncle George shot them a stern look, and immediately no one dared to speak. Mom stared at me for a few seconds, then suddenly stood up and, with a thud, knelt before me. “Bethany, Mom was wrong! Mom willingly gave birth to you and raised you. I shouldn’t ask for anything in return. Just forgive Mom this once! If not, your father and I will go home and take pills to end our lives, guaranteeing we won’t burden you again!” She desperately clutched my sleeve, swearing, refusing to let go no matter how I struggled. “If you don’t forgive Mom today, Mom won’t get up!” The younger relatives stared wide-eyed in astonishment. They never would have dreamed that my mother would do such a thing. “This is awful!” Aunt Carol quickly walked over to help her up, her face filled with sympathy. “Bethany, it’s your Grandma’s birthday today. So many people are here. Must you deliberately humiliate your mother in public?” Uncle George also rose abruptly, his eyes like daggers. “I’m so disappointed in you, Bethany. There are no bad parents in this world. Don’t you fear shortening your life by forcing your mother to kneel before you?” “Apologize to your mother! Then dutifully pay for her health insurance, or don’t blame Aunt Carol and me for not being polite!” I shifted my gaze to Mom. She was wiping away tears, her head bowed, but the secretly upturned corners of her mouth were harder to suppress than a loaded gun. “What are you waiting for? Go quickly!” Aunt Carol grabbed my arm, yanking me forcefully towards Mom. I shook her off. A feeling of helplessness swept over me. I fought back tears, just barely. “The only mistake I made was coming here today!” After quickly saying goodbye to Grandma in the bedroom, I left without looking back. I had lost, utterly defeated. Mom’s knees were the most formidable weapon in the world, and I was defenseless against them. How could I have forgotten? After twenty years of being mother and daughter, I was always the one crushed. To tame me, she would stop at nothing. How could I ever be her match? Back home, Michael comforted me for a long time, but couldn’t help but voice his worry. “Are you really determined not to pay for your parents’ health insurance? I don’t mean anything by it, but they’re almost sixty. If they suddenly get a tricky illness, I’m afraid you’ll still end up picking up the pieces.” “No, I won’t!” I declared decisively. They were both more focused on their health than anyone, and they had money. Besides my wedding funds, their old family home also received thirty thousand in compensation. Adding that to their existing savings, they had at least fifty thousand in their accounts—enough to cover their medical expenses. Seeing my resolute stance, Michael didn’t bring up the subject again. However, fate seemed to be deliberately working against me. Not long after, my mother actually fell ill. Acute viral pneumonia, triggered by the flu. Her condition was very serious.

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I went undercover as an intern at my sister’s company, hiding my identity. But after three months of hard work, HR informed me I failed the probation period. They were also withholding my entire salary. “The reason?” “You took 3 days off.” I looked at the HR manager, amused. “First, it was bereavement leave. My grandmother passed away.” “Second, I followed every legal procedure.” “Third…” I turned to look at another intern who started with me, Caleb Wilson. “He took off three times this month just to take care of his girlfriend who had cramps. Totaling 21 days.” “Why did he pass probation?” HR looked at me with disdain. “This company belongs to his family. Why do you think?” “Besides, period cramps can be excruciating. It’s a matter of life and death.” “You just had a grandmother die. What gives you the right to take leave?” 1 On the last day of my internship, I was called into the office of HR Manager Linda Fox. “Aiden, your application for full-time employment has been rejected.” Hearing this, I wasn’t surprised. “Additionally, because your excessive leave during the internship severely impacted workflow, per company policy, your entire salary for the three months will be deducted.” I finally couldn’t help but laugh out loud. “Manager Fox, I need an explanation.” My reaction seemed to anger her. She sat up straight, her narrow eyes glaring at me sharply. “Explanation? What explanation do you need? It’s written in black and white: leave cannot exceed two days. How long were you gone?” “Three days,” I replied calmly. “First, I took bereavement leave for my grandmother. That is a legally protected right.” “Second, I submitted all necessary documentation and received approval from my department head.” “Third…” My gaze moved past her to the figure outside the office, laughing boisterously with colleagues. “Caleb Wilson, who started with me, took leave three times in three months to ‘take care of his girlfriend.’ Seven days each time, totaling 21 days. Why did he pass probation smoothly?” Linda scoffed, leaning back lazily in her chair. “Aiden, did you lose your brain during the internship? You’re comparing yourself to Caleb?” “Didn’t you ask around? Do you know whose family owns this company?” “Besides, period cramps can be life-threatening. It could affect future generations. And you?” She scanned me up and down, her lips curling in contempt. “You just had a grandmother die, right?” “Old people die eventually. Is that such a big deal to take three days off? So dramatic.” I lowered my eyes and didn’t argue further. Amidst her endless chatter and biting sarcasm, I silently reached into my pocket. My finger slid along the side of my phone and pressed the lock button. Before the screen went dark, I clearly saw the bright red, ticking timer of the voice recorder. Good. All the evidence is here. 2 Holding my water bottle, I walked back to my desk in the Marketing Department, expressionless. The bustling office quieted instantly. Everyone’s eyes focused on me like spotlights. Some pitied, some were curious, but most were gloating. I could hear whispered gossip buzzing like flies. Ignoring everyone, I walked straight to my seat and started packing. Keyboard, mouse pad, a mug I used for three years, and a few professional books. When I picked up the proposal for “Project Starlight,” my fingers paused. This plan, which cost me countless sleepless nights, had become the brightest highlight on Caleb’s resume. I remembered clearly how my direct supervisor, Tom Baker—a middle-aged man with a receding hairline who lived by the motto “less trouble is better”—handed this proposal to Caleb in front of the entire department. He praised him: “Exceptional talent, a promising future.” And me, the actual creator? I got a dismissive, “Aiden participated too. Keep working hard.” All this happened because everyone firmly believed Caleb was the Chairman’s fiancé. “Oh my, Aiden, what are you doing?” Caleb sashayed over to me, looking down with feigned surprise and syrupy sweetness. “Why are you packing? Did Manager Fox say something harsh?” “Please don’t take it to heart. She has a sharp tongue but a soft heart.” He reached out to hold down my box, but I dodged sideways. Too lazy to look at him, I continued sweeping clutter into the box. Feeling ignored, his voice took on a tone of victorious boasting: “But don’t be too sad. Just because this company didn’t work out doesn’t mean others won’t. How about this? In a few days, I’ll ask my girlfriend to look out for you and introduce you to a good job. How does that sound?” I finally stopped, looked up at him, and said nothing. Uncomfortable under my gaze, he puffed out his chest anyway. I picked up the box, stood up, and walked away. “Aiden!” The receptionist, Jenny, ran over, grabbing my arm, her eyes red. “These people are too much! It’s bullying!” Jenny was the only person in the company who treated me as a friend. I patted her hand, slipped the voice recorder into her pocket, and whispered, “Keep this safe for me.” She froze, then nodded heavily. I didn’t look back. Hugging the box, I walked step by step toward the elevator. Passing the huge glass wall, I could see the faces inside, each harboring their own schemes. The elevator doors closed slowly, cutting off all sights and sounds. 3 Three days later, it was the company’s New Employee Welcome Gala. I hadn’t planned on going. A fired employee attending his own welcome party sounded like a joke. But Jenny’s calls nearly blew up my phone. “Aiden, are you really not coming?” “Come on, come on! The food is free anyway, don’t waste it!” Looking at my pale face in the mirror, the refusal on my lips was swallowed back. Maybe I should go. To see how Caleb accepts everyone’s congratulations as the victor. Before I could decide, an unexpected call came in. It was my sister, Elena. “Aiden, where are you?” Her voice was familiar, slightly tired but steady as always. “Home. Elena, aren’t you on a business trip in Europe? Finished so early?” “Changed plans, just landed.” She paused, a hint of a smile in her voice. “I have a surprise for you tonight. To celebrate our Aiden’s successful employment, I prepared a gift.” My heart sank. “What surprise?” “Not telling you yet. Get ready, wait for me to pick you up.” Before I could ask more, she hung up. I stared at the dark screen, an ominous feeling rising in my chest. Meanwhile, at the Starfall Hotel ballroom, the scene was lavish and bustling. Elena, in a perfectly tailored gown, attracted everyone’s attention the moment she stepped in. Her appearance froze the air for a few seconds. No one expected the elusive big boss to attend a small new employee welcome party. Ignoring the executives trying to chat her up, her cold gaze scanned the room, searching for someone. Once, twice. She frowned slightly. Aiden wasn’t there. Her gaze finally landed on the reception desk, on a familiar figure—Jenny. She knew Jenny. Aiden had mentioned she was his only friend at the company. Elena strode over with her long legs. “Hello, Ms. Vance!” Startled, Jenny nearly knocked over her champagne. She stood straight, greeting her nervously. “Where is Aiden?” Elena got straight to the point. Her voice wasn’t loud, but it carried undeniable pressure. “A-Aiden… he…” Jenny’s eyes panicked instantly, dodging her gaze. “He… he’s not feeling well today, so… so he didn’t come.” Elena stared at her, unconsciously twisting the ring on her finger. “Not feeling well?” She repeated, tone unreadable. “I spoke to him on the phone minutes ago. He didn’t say he was unwell.” Jenny’s face turned white instantly. Her lips trembled, unable to utter a word. Her reaction explained more than any words could. Elena’s heart sank. She realized something was wrong. 4 Just as Elena’s patience was running out, the ballroom lights dimmed, and a spotlight hit the center stage. The host enthusiastically announced the start of the New Employee Welcome Gala. Then, HR Manager Linda Fox, wearing a brand-new suit, walked onto the stage beaming. Enjoying the attention, she cleared her throat and spoke in a dramatic cadence: “Good evening, leaders and colleagues!” “Today is a day for celebration. Our company has injected fresh blood once again.” “After three months of strict evaluation, a group of outstanding interns has emerged to become official members of our family!” Polite applause rippled through the audience. Elena sat in the VIP corner, her grip on the wine glass tightening, her cold gaze locked on Linda. “Now, I will announce the list of employees who successfully passed probation!” Linda’s voice pitched up, unable to hide her smugness. She picked up the cue card and began reading. “Tech Department: Mark Johnson, Leo Smith…” “Admin Department: Emily Brown…” With each name, small cheers and applause erupted. Elena’s face darkened inch by inch. The pressure around her dropped so low that executives wanting to toast her stayed away. “Finally,” Linda dragged out the word, building suspense, her face piled with a fawning smile. “I want to grandly introduce the pride of our Marketing Department. Not only did he contribute several excellent ideas during his internship, but his performance was far ahead of everyone else. He is our company’s future star—Mr. Caleb Wilson!” The spotlight instantly swung to Caleb in the audience. Wearing a designer suit, he stood up elegantly, waving to colleagues around him, his face wearing the reserve and pride of a winner. The loudest applause of the night erupted. On stage, Linda continued her lavish praise: “Mr. Wilson’s excellence is obvious to all. His joining will surely bring new vitality to Vance Group! Let’s welcome Caleb Wilson officially joining us with another round of applause!” Thunderous applause. Elena’s gaze swept over Caleb without pausing, returning to Linda’s face. She listened quietly. Until Linda closed the cue card and said “That concludes the list” with a smile. She never heard the name she wanted to hear most. Aiden. Her brother, Aiden’s name, was not on the list. Amidst the endless applause, Elena stood up, face frosty. She slammed her wine glass onto the table. The thud was muffled in the noise, but it made those nearby jump. Striding forward, ignoring everyone, she walked straight toward the brilliantly lit stage. The crowd parted automatically. The applause faded. Everyone looked at the unsmiling big boss in confusion, wondering what she was doing. Linda, immersed in her perfect hosting, turned to find Elena’s freezing face inches away. Her smile froze. She stammered: “M-Ms. Vance, you…” Ignoring her, Elena reached out and took the microphone from her stunned hand. The feedback screech pierced through the speakers. The entire hall went dead silent. Her cold eyes swept over every confused face. Her voice, amplified, rang clearly through the hall: “Where is my brother, Aiden?”

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I went undercover as an intern at my brother’s company, hiding my identity. But after three months of hard work, HR informed me I failed the probation period. They were also withholding my entire salary. “The reason?” “You took 3 days off.” I looked at the HR manager, amused. “First, it was bereavement leave. My grandfather passed away.” “Second, I followed every legal procedure.” “Third…” I turned to look at another intern who started with me, Chloe Davis. “She took off three times this month just for period cramps.” “Why did she pass probation?” HR looked at me with disdain. “This company belongs to her family. Why do you think?” “Besides, period cramps can be excruciating. It feels like dying.” “You just had a grandfather die. What gives you the right to take leave?” 1 On the last day of my internship, I was called into the office of HR Manager Linda Fox. “Sarah, your application for full-time employment has been rejected.” Hearing this, I wasn’t surprised. “Additionally, because your excessive leave during the internship severely impacted workflow, per company policy, your entire salary for the three months will be deducted.” I finally couldn’t help but laugh out loud. “Manager Fox, I need an explanation.” My reaction seemed to anger her. She sat up straight, her narrow eyes glaring at me sharply. “Explanation? What explanation do you need? It’s written in black and white: leave cannot exceed two days. How long were you gone?” “Three days,” I replied calmly. “First, I took bereavement leave for my grandfather. That is a legally protected right.” “Second, I submitted all necessary documentation and received approval from my department head.” “Third…” My gaze moved past her to the figure outside the office, laughing charmingly with colleagues. “Chloe Davis, who started with me, took leave three times in three months for period pain. Seven days each time, totaling 21 days. Why did she pass probation smoothly?” Linda scoffed, leaning back lazily in her chair. “Sarah, did you lose your brain during the internship? You’re comparing yourself to Chloe?” “Didn’t you ask around? Do you know whose family owns this company?” “Besides, Chloe’s cramps are life-threatening. It could affect future generations. And you?” She scanned me up and down, her lips curling in contempt. “You just had a grandfather die, right?” “Old people die eventually. Is that such a big deal to take three days off? So dramatic.” I lowered my eyes and didn’t argue further. Amidst her endless chatter and biting sarcasm, I silently reached into my pocket. My finger slid along the side of my phone and pressed the lock button. Before the screen went dark, I clearly saw the bright red, ticking timer of the voice recorder. Good. All the evidence is here. 2 Holding my water bottle, I walked back to my desk in the Marketing Department, expressionless. The bustling office quieted instantly. Everyone’s eyes focused on me like spotlights. Some pitied, some were curious, but most were gloating. I could hear whispered gossip buzzing like flies. Ignoring everyone, I walked straight to my seat and started packing. Keyboard, mouse pad, a mug I used for three years, and a few professional books. When I picked up the proposal for “Project Starlight,” my fingers paused. This plan, which cost me countless sleepless nights, had become the brightest highlight on Chloe’s resume. I remembered clearly how my direct supervisor, Tom Wilson—a middle-aged man with a receding hairline who lived by the motto “less trouble is better”—handed this proposal to Chloe in front of the entire department. He praised her “exceptional talent and promising future.” And me, the actual creator? I got a dismissive, “Sarah participated too. Keep working hard.” All this happened because everyone firmly believed Chloe was a relative of the Chairman. “Oh my, Sarah, what are you doing?” Chloe sashayed over to me, looking down with feigned surprise and syrupy sweetness. “Why are you packing? Did Manager Fox say something harsh?” “Please don’t take it to heart. She has a sharp tongue but a soft heart.” She reached out to hold down my box, but I dodged sideways. Too lazy to look at her, I continued sweeping clutter into the box. Feeling ignored, her voice took on a tone of victorious boasting: “But don’t be too sad. Just because this company didn’t work out doesn’t mean others won’t. How about this? In a few days, I’ll ask my relatives to look out for you and introduce you to a good job. How does that sound?” I finally stopped, looked up at her, and said nothing. Uncomfortable under my gaze, she puffed out her chest anyway. I picked up the box, stood up, and walked away. “Sarah!” The receptionist, Jenny, ran over, grabbing my arm, her eyes red. “These people are too much! It’s bullying!” Jenny was the only person in the company who treated me as a friend. I patted her hand, slipped the voice recorder into her pocket, and whispered, “Keep this safe for me.” She froze, then nodded heavily. I didn’t look back. Hugging the box, I walked step by step toward the elevator. Passing the huge glass wall, I could see the faces inside, each harboring their own schemes. The elevator doors closed slowly, cutting off all sights and sounds. 3 Three days later, it was the company’s New Employee Welcome Gala. I hadn’t planned on going. A fired employee attending her own welcome party sounded like a joke. But Jenny’s calls nearly blew up my phone. “Sarah, are you really not coming? Just come keep me company, I’m so bored alone.” “Come on, come on! The food is free anyway, don’t waste it!” Looking at my pale face in the mirror, the refusal on my lips was swallowed back. Maybe I should go. To see how Chloe accepts everyone’s congratulations as the victor. Before I could decide, an unexpected call came in. It was my brother, Ethan. “Sarah, where are you?” His voice was familiar, slightly tired but steady as always. “Home. Ethan, aren’t you on a business trip in Europe? Finished so early?” “Changed plans, just landed.” He paused, a hint of a smile in his voice. “I have a surprise for you tonight. To celebrate our Sarah’s successful employment, I prepared a gift.” My heart sank. “What surprise?” “Not telling you yet. Get ready, wait for me to pick you up.” Before I could ask more, he hung up. I stared at the dark screen, an ominous feeling rising in my chest. Meanwhile, at the Starfall Hotel ballroom, the scene was lavish and bustling. Ethan, in a perfectly tailored suit, attracted everyone’s attention the moment he stepped in. His appearance froze the air for a few seconds. No one expected the elusive big boss to attend a small new employee welcome party. Ignoring the executives trying to chat him up, his cold gaze scanned the room, searching for someone. Once, twice. He frowned slightly. Sarah wasn’t there. His gaze finally landed on the reception desk, on a familiar figure—Jenny. He knew Jenny. Sarah had mentioned she was her only friend at the company. Ethan strode over with his long legs. “Hello, Mr. Vance!” Startled, Jenny nearly knocked over her champagne. She stood straight, greeting him nervously. “Where is Sarah?” Ethan got straight to the point. His voice wasn’t loud, but it carried undeniable pressure. “S-Sarah… she…” Jenny’s eyes panicked instantly, dodging his gaze. “She… she’s not feeling well today, so… so she didn’t come.” Ethan stared at her, unconsciously twisting the ring on his finger. “Not feeling well?” He repeated, tone unreadable. “I spoke to her on the phone minutes ago. She didn’t say she was unwell.” Jenny’s face turned white instantly. Her lips trembled, unable to utter a word. Her reaction explained more than any words could. Ethan’s heart sank. He realized something was wrong. 4 Just as Ethan’s patience was running out, the ballroom lights dimmed, and a spotlight hit the center stage. The host enthusiastically announced the start of the New Employee Welcome Gala. Then, HR Manager Linda Fox, wearing a brand-new suit, walked onto the stage beaming. Enjoying the attention, she cleared her throat and spoke in a dramatic cadence: “Good evening, leaders and colleagues!” “Today is a day for celebration. Our company has injected fresh blood once again.” “After three months of strict evaluation, a group of outstanding interns has emerged to become official members of our family!” Polite applause rippled through the audience. Ethan sat in the VIP corner, his grip on the wine glass tightening, his cold gaze locked on Linda. “Now, I will announce the list of employees who successfully passed probation!” Linda’s voice pitched up, unable to hide her smugness. She picked up the cue card and began reading. “Tech Department: Mark Johnson, Leo Smith…” “Admin Department: Emily Brown…” With each name, small cheers and applause erupted. Ethan’s face darkened inch by inch. The pressure around him dropped so low that executives wanting to toast him stayed away. “Finally,” Linda dragged out the word, building suspense, her face piled with a fawning smile. “I want to grandly introduce the pride of our Marketing Department. Not only did she contribute several excellent ideas during her internship, but her performance was far ahead of everyone else. She is our company’s future star—Miss Chloe Davis!” The spotlight instantly swung to Chloe in the audience. Wearing a designer cocktail dress, she stood up elegantly, waving to colleagues around her, her face wearing the reserve and pride of a winner. The loudest applause of the night erupted. On stage, Linda continued her lavish praise: “Miss Davis’s excellence is obvious to all. Her joining will surely bring new vitality to Vance Group! Let’s welcome Chloe Davis officially joining us with another round of applause!” Thunderous applause. Ethan’s gaze swept over Chloe without pausing, returning to Linda’s face. He listened quietly. Until Linda closed the cue card and said “That concludes the list” with a smile. He never heard the name he wanted to hear most. Sarah. His sister, Sarah’s name, was not on the list. Amidst the endless applause, Ethan stood up, face frosty. He slammed his wine glass onto the table. The thud was muffled in the noise, but it made those nearby jump. Striding forward, ignoring everyone, he walked straight toward the brilliantly lit stage. The crowd parted automatically. The applause faded. Everyone looked at the unsmiling big boss in confusion, wondering what he was doing. Linda, immersed in her perfect hosting, turned to find Ethan’s freezing face inches away. Her smile froze. She stammered: “M-Mr. Vance, you…” Ignoring her, Ethan reached out and took the microphone from her stunned hand. The feedback screech pierced through the speakers. The entire hall went dead silent. His cold eyes swept over every confused face. His voice, amplified, rang clearly through the hall: “Where is my sister, Sarah?” 5 Those six words hit everyone like a sledgehammer. People applauding moments ago froze, faces full of disbelief. Sister? Mr. Vance’s sister? Which Sarah? Instantly, everyone’s eyes swept the room like searchlights, looking for the unnoticed, forgotten figure. But that corner was empty. Linda’s face went from red to white, then white to green in a second. Her hand holding the cue card shook like a leaf in the wind. She opened her mouth, throat blocked, unable to speak. How could she be Mr. Vance’s sister? That plainly dressed intern who never argued and let me bully her? In the audience, Chloe’s triumphant smile froze. Her designer dress seemed to lose its luster. She stood there stiffly, as if doused in ice water. Seeing Linda silent, Ethan turned his icy gaze to her. “Manager Fox, are you deaf? I asked you, why isn’t Sarah on the list?” The “Manager Fox” made Linda tremble. She forced a smile uglier than crying and stammered: “M-Mr. Vance, is there a mistake? We don’t have an intern named Sarah becoming full-time… Oh, there was one, but she… she…” “What about her?” Ethan pressed, voice colder. “Failed the assessment?” “Yes, yes! Failed!” Linda nodded frantically, grasping at straws. “She… she took excessive leave, seriously violating company rules, so… so…” “Excessive leave?” Ethan sneered, dropping the room temperature another few degrees. “How many days? For what?” “Th-three… three days…” Linda’s voice shrank, eyes darting, afraid to meet Ethan’s. “Because… family issues…” “Family issues?” Ethan’s voice spiked, sharp as a blade. “Since when did Vance Group culture become so cold-blooded? Is a funeral in an employee’s family just ‘issues’ to you, Manager Fox?” Funeral?! The audience exploded. Whispers spread like a tide. “Sarah took bereavement leave?” “Omg, fired for bereavement leave? That’s inhumane!” “I remember Chloe took three sick leaves this month…” Hearing every word, Linda broke into a cold sweat. She knew she was done. In desperation, she pointed at Chloe in the audience, trying to divert the fire: “Mr. Vance! It’s not my fault! I… I was doing it for the company! Miss Davis… Miss Davis is your…” She didn’t finish, but her fawning look said it all. She thought Chloe was someone to Ethan, so she sucked up to her, even firing an innocent intern. “My what?” Ethan’s gaze finally landed on the pale Chloe, filled with scrutiny and disgust. Chloe trembled under his look, stepping back instinctively. Linda, mind blank, just wanted to push the blame away. She almost screamed the truth: “I thought Miss Davis was your fiancée, our future boss’s wife! She said her family owned the company! Manager Wilson said so too! I just… I just wanted to clear obstacles for the boss’s wife, that’s why I fired that annoying Sarah! Mr. Vance, I did it for you!” These words hit like a thunderbolt, stunning everyone. Guessing the boss’s mind? Future boss’s wife? Clearing obstacles? The hall was terrifyingly quiet. Everyone looked between the icy Ethan, the panicked Linda, and the teetering Chloe. A carefully prepared welcome gala turned into an absurd farce. And the core of this farce was an intern everyone thought they could bully. Ethan listened expressionlessly to Linda’s incoherent explanation, eyes deep as a bottomless well. He said nothing more, slowly turning to look at the entrance. As everyone held their breath, guessing what the young CEO would do next, the ballroom doors were pushed open from the outside. 6 All eyes focused on the opening doors. I walked in. Behind me was Jenny, clutching my arm tight, palms sweaty. The noisy venue was now quiet enough to hear breathing. Hundreds of gazes—shock, confusion, schadenfreude, disbelief—covered me like a net. Ignoring everyone, I walked straight through the crowd toward the brightly lit stage. People instinctively made way. I saw Tom Wilson, looking at me with a complex expression, lips moving soundlessly. I saw colleagues who used to mock me to please Chloe now lowering their heads, afraid to meet my eyes. On stage, Linda looked like she’d seen a ghost, color draining from her face. “You… how are you here? Who let you in!” she shrieked, voice twisted with fear. I didn’t answer. I walked onto the stage and stood beside my brother, Ethan. Ethan said nothing, just gave me a reassuring look. That was enough. Linda was still screaming hysterically: “Mr. Vance, don’t listen to her! She’s just a disgruntled fired intern here to make trouble! Security! Where is security!” I took my phone from my pocket and, under everyone’s gaze, pressed play. Next second, Linda’s familiar, acerbic voice echoed through the speakers to every corner of the hall. “The reason?” — That was my calm question. “You took three days off.” — Linda’s contemptuous answer. … “She took off three times this month just for period cramps. Why did she pass probation?” “This company belongs to her family. Why do you think?” When this sentence played, the audience gasped. Everyone’s eyes shot like knives toward the teetering Chloe. The recording continued, Linda’s voice even more vicious: “Besides, period cramps can be excruciating. It feels like dying.” “You just had a grandfather die. What gives you the right to take leave?” “Just had a grandfather die.” These words hit everyone’s heart like a hammer. The hall was deathly silent; whispers vanished, leaving only Linda’s harsh voice echoing. Linda broke down completely. She lunged to grab my phone but was blocked by Ethan’s bodyguards. The recording didn’t stop. It even captured Tom Wilson’s voice, timidly reporting to Linda how he seamlessly attributed my “Project Starlight” proposal—result of three all-nighters—to Chloe. The truth was revealed nakedly, cruelly, undeniably. Chloe’s scam, Linda’s bullying, Tom’s cowardice, and the ugly faces of the sycophants were all exposed. I saw Chloe’s legs give out under the contemptuous stares, collapsing to the floor in disgrace. The male colleagues who once fawned over her now looked at her with disgust. The recording ended with a sharp static noise, leaving the hall in a silence more terrifying than before.

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My sister caught the eye of a top-tier billionaire heir at first sight. To win her favor, the heir willingly became a devoted “simp” without any official title, following her around, gifting money, cars, and houses. As my sister’s dearest younger sibling, I took advantage of the situation, raking in benefits like there was no tomorrow. Watching his brother lose both money and dignity, the heir’s CEO older brother was furious. He angrily tracked me down: “A man’s dignity cannot be trampled on. The Sterling men will never be simps.” “Since your sister brainwashed my brother, don’t blame me for targeting you.” “Let’s wait and see. In half a month at most, I will expose you two sisters for what you really are.” Half a month passed by quickly. And I, too, got my very own simp. 1 At her birthday party, my sister caught the eye of Leo Sterling, a top-tier billionaire heir. To pursue her, Leo gifted money, cars, and houses. He even tried to give me his older brother. “Mia, just help me woo your sister, and I’ll introduce my brother to you.” “You know my brother, Arthur Sterling, right? The nation’s heartthrob, tall and handsome, in the financial news every day…” “I promise you, the day I become your brother-in-law will be the day you become my sister-in-law.” I fell silent. I remembered seeing Arthur’s face once before. The young man looked to be about 6’2″. Dressed in a sharp suit, breathtakingly handsome. He appeared gentlemanly and refined. He was impeccably polite to everyone who came to flatter him. But there was always a hint of condescension in his words. Arrogant and nasty. I had no intention of messing with someone like him. I waved my hand at Leo: “I have no interest in being your sister-in-law. Leo, just give me money in exchange for information.” Leo nodded desperately, wishing he could agree to anything: “Okay, okay, okay.” A month passed. Leo tried every trick in the book. But he didn’t even get a smile from my sister. The last time. He took off his coat, revealing his abs, attempting a passionate seduction. But my sister just pushed up her rimless glasses and asked flatly: “Did you get robbed?” “…” Leo went crazy. He ran crying to his brother. “Bro, can you run me over with your car? Then I’ll reincarnate into the type she likes, and we can be together…” Arthur lifted his lips coldly: “Stop this nonsense.” Leo left. The next day, he knocked on his brother’s door, crying again: “Bro, I decided to find a way to get her pregnant, then I can trap her. You should do it too, okay?” Arthur hesitated slightly: “What do you mean? I have to get pregnant too?” Leo: “Yes.” Arthur: “…” Arthur finally realized the gravity of the situation. His foolish brother was truly bewitched by that woman. He had turned into an absolute simp. Only knowing how to chase after a woman all day. Arthur pressed his throbbing temples. Casually picked up the file his secretary just brought in. The photo on it was of the Summers sisters. They didn’t look like much. The older sister at least had an aura of elegance. But the younger sister looked silly, with round eyes, clearly not very smart. If these two were thrown onto the street, especially the younger one, he wouldn’t spare them a second glance. Arthur sneered disdainfully. Casually tossed the file into the trash can. Fine, Chloe Summers. Since you play my brother like a dog. Then don’t blame me for targeting your sister. Dealing with a little girl fresh out of college like her. He could make her cry with just a little effort. Hmph. He’d say it again. The Sterling men will never be simps. These two sisters can just wait to regret it. 2 When I received Arthur’s friend request. I thought it was a prank. And ignored it. But after I got out of the shower. My phone was still ringing. I answered confusedly: “Hello, who is this?” A pause on the other end. A man’s cool, clear voice came through: “Miss Summers, I am Leo’s older brother, Arthur Sterling.” I hesitated for a few seconds, frowning warily: “Ah, do you need something?” Arthur’s voice was deep and magnetic. With a hint of a gentle smile: “Nothing major. I just heard from my brother that you’ve been helping him woo your sister.” “He’s been a bother to you. To express my gratitude, I’d like to treat you to a meal.” My first instinct was to refuse. Who helped that idiot woo my sister? No one in the whole world except me was suited to be my sister’s minion. I had actually been scamming Leo all along. But on second thought. My sister’s attitude towards Leo had changed a lot recently; I was afraid she was falling for the silly boy. And this unfathomable man on the phone was the silly boy’s brother. He wasn’t someone to be trifled with. What if he teamed up with his brother to bully my sister later? It might be good to see what he’s up to. I cleared my throat. Tried to make my tone sound more polite: “Okay, Mr. Sterling, where should we eat?” 3 When I arrived at the agreed restaurant. Arthur was already sitting there. He shed his serious suit today, wearing a sapphire blue sweater. It made his skin look even fairer, his features clear and handsome. Leo really didn’t lie to me. His brother’s face was genuinely good-looking, and his fashion sense was great too. I was stunned by Arthur’s handsomeness for a few seconds. By the time I reacted. He was already standing in front of me. A fresh citrus scent instantly filled my nose. Arthur bent slightly, gentlemanly pulling out a chair for me: “Miss Summers, please sit.” I swallowed hard. My heart skipped an embarrassing beat. But quickly. I recovered my calm quickly. Because Arthur put a piece of meat on my plate. …Dear God, I’m a germaphobe, a severe germaphobe. At this moment, to hell with the citrus scent and gentlemanly demeanor. My face contorted in agony. While Arthur wasn’t looking. I speared the piece of meat he gave me. And threw it straight into the trash can under the table. After Arthur finished talking to the waiter. His gaze slowly landed on my plate. He raised an eyebrow without showing any emotion. This little girl… He found it somewhat amusing. Her heart must be racing like a deer right now. She swallowed the food he gave her in a second. Probably didn’t even chew out of excitement. But then again, he had been flattered like this since he was young. Receiving love letters since middle school. By high school, boys and girls looking at him crowded the hallways. In college, he was on the confession wall every few days. He had grown numb to it long ago, even a bit disdainful. Whether expanding his business empire or seducing the girl in front of him, everything was under his control. So he didn’t understand. As Arthur Sterling’s brother. How could Leo become a shameless simp? Giving money, cars, and houses; why didn’t he just give his life while he was at it? An absolute disgrace. Arthur was very confident. In two weeks, he could definitely close the net. When the time comes, he’ll handle this girl and vent his anger for his foolish brother. But he doesn’t like girls who are too infatuated. It’s just for fun; she better not cry when it’s over. 4 I looked up and met Arthur’s meaningful gaze. My heart skipped a beat. Did he notice? Fortunately, Arthur just gave me a friendly smile. And looked away. I let out a sigh of relief. Then heard Arthur say: “Miss Summers, this is the first time I’ve seen my brother like someone so much.” “So, please help him out more. Whatever conditions you have, just name them.” Saying that. Arthur smiled again. The smile didn’t reach his eyes, and he even put another piece of food on my plate while smiling. My eyes went wide. The words I wanted to say got stuck in my throat. Does this guy have any manners? Always putting food on other people’s plates. I forced a smile. Finally put down my chopsticks, unable to bear it anymore. “Mr. Sterling…” Arthur interrupted me: “No need to be so polite, just call me by my name.” “Miss Summers, I prepared a small gift for you on the way here. I hope you like it.” I was very surprised. Took the box Arthur handed me with both hands. Opened it gently— Wow. My grandma would love this. I tried hard to control my emotions, afraid Arthur would see a trace of disgust: “Thank you, Mr. Sterling. I like it very much, you have great taste.” Arthur wasn’t surprised at all. He casually crossed his long legs, a flash of contempt passing quickly in his eyes: “I’m glad you like it.” He said lightly. I quickly put the gift in my bag. Forget it. I’ll accept it for now. I hadn’t found a gift for my grandma’s 80th birthday anyway. 5 After dinner. Arthur didn’t give me a chance to refuse and drove me straight home. The car was eerily quiet. I closed my eyes tightly, pretending to sleep. Completely oblivious. Arthur beside me had fallen deep into thought. He was letting his imagination run wild. For some reason, he remembered seeing online that saying “goodnight” means “I love you.” He guessed this girl would definitely say goodnight to him. Little girls’ tricks were all the same. He would, of course, mercifully give this girl a chance to say goodnight. But if she got too excited and did something offensive, he wouldn’t be polite. Arthur hit the brakes. His long fingers tapped the steering wheel rhythmically. As if waiting for something. I didn’t care what he was waiting for. I dropped a “thank you” and fled the uncomfortable atmosphere. By the time Arthur realized what had happened. He was the only one left in the car. Where was his “goodnight”? An indescribable emotion spread in his chest. Arthur pursed his lips. After two seconds of thought, he finally figured it out. She was probably just shy. That made sense. Since he was a kid. No girl could remain calm after receiving a proactive gesture from him. Arthur leaned back, regaining his composed demeanor. 6 For the next two weeks. Arthur invited me to dinner every day. I was on edge for a few days before finally concluding that he didn’t seem to have any ill intent; he just wanted a dining companion. However, I don’t know if it’s because he’s getting older, but every dish he ordered was either steamed or stewed. I followed him miserably, my face turning green from the bland food, still having to fake a smile and say, “Delicious, delicious, so delicious.” Arthur tilted his head to look at me, a faint smile on his lips, certain that everything was under his control. Of course. The bland taste in my mouth almost made me want to flip the table. But turning around, I saw that my sister and Leo were on the verge of getting together. So I could only endure. Sob. My sister had no idea. How much I sacrificed for her happiness! But I didn’t expect. The turning point would come so quickly. 7 After a relatively pleasant fourteen days of dining with Arthur. On the fifteenth day. Arthur didn’t send me a message. I suffered through the morning with racking brains. Confirming he really wasn’t going to ask me out to eat anymore. I took out my phone with tears of joy. Sent a message to a friend I hadn’t contacted in a long time. Inviting them to a yacht party. I even specifically asked my best friend to bring two handsome guys she just met. The group of five had a blast on the yacht. I finally ate the long-lost BBQ. Wolfing it down while crying in the wind. The guy beside me, seeing my hands were full, attentively took a tissue to wipe my mouth. It was also at this time. I suddenly noticed a man leaning on the railing not far away looking somewhat familiar. The man wore a simple casual white shirt with elegant nobility. With sunglasses resting on his high nose bridge, his exact expression couldn’t be seen. But his slightly lowered head posture. And the phone screen in his hand that was frequently lit up and quickly dimmed. Revealed an obvious anxiety. He seemed to be waiting for a message… The next second. The man suddenly looked in my direction. …It was Arthur. Arthur just took one look at me. Then immediately locked onto the boy leaning in front of me.

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I’d been online dating my boyfriend for six months, but he absolutely refused to meet in person. I had no choice but to ask a food delivery rider to do some reconnaissance for me. After seeing him, the rider advised me: “Honestly, girl, forget it. The guy isn’t tall, isn’t handsome, and the kicker? He looks like he’s pushing sixty!” Hearing this, I instantly crumbled and cursed into the phone: “You old geezer! We’re breaking up!” The next day, forced myself to go to work, only to hear colleagues gossiping: “What kind of trauma did CEO Zhou suffer?” “Why is he asking everyone for links to anti-aging face masks?” 1 When I got that call from the delivery driver, I genuinely felt like the sky was falling. On the other end of the line, the driver was describing in vivid detail: “I’m really not making this up, miss. I was stunned when the door opened. The guy isn’t tall, isn’t handsome, and the main thing is, he looks like he’s nearly sixty! He was even holding a cane!” “You’re in the prime of your youth, don’t waste it on an old man, okay? Otherwise, when you actually meet, people will suspect you have a thing for geriatrics!” I responded in a daze, not even knowing how I hung up the phone. By the time I snapped back to reality, tears were already streaming down my face. No wonder he kept refusing to meet me. Turns out he’s elderly and has mobility issues! And all those red packets and bank transfers he sent me before—were those his retirement pension?! Thinking of this, I couldn’t help but cry again, clicking open my phone through the tears, ready to send the money back. Just as I opened the chat page, my phone vibrated. My online boyfriend sent a message: [Thanks for the afternoon tea, babe~] [Did you finish getting your nails done, babe? Want me to buy you bubble tea?] I almost gagged. Thinking about how I’d been calling this old geezer “babe” for six months, I couldn’t stop feeling nauseous. On the other side, totally oblivious to my mood, he kept sending messages: [Nails not done yet? Message me back when you’re free later, okay?] [I’ll reimburse you.] Followed closely by several large red packets. Financially, he’d never been stingy. Spending someone else’s money really is painless! Thinking of this, I was both angry and hateful. I directly returned the red packets and typed furiously: [No need.] [I never thought you were this kind of old geezer.] [Saying break up makes me sick. Don’t harass me again!] 2 After sending the message, I blocked and deleted him instantly, then started packing up my stuff. Clothes and bags the old geezer sent—throw! Shopping mall gift cards the old geezer loaded—sell! Specialty sausages the old geezer made himself… I hesitated for a second. The old geezer’s culinary skills were actually quite good; these sausages tasted way better than store-bought ones. But, I’m looking for a partner, not a chef! What’s the use of delicious sausages! So, I packed the sausages along with everything else and threw them downstairs to feed the stray dogs. I didn’t leave the house all weekend, curled up at home crying and being emo, until Monday when I finally tidied myself up and went to work. As soon as I entered the company, I felt something was off. There was a feeling of an approaching storm. “Luna!” A colleague waved at me: “Quick, come punch in!” I hurried over to sign in and wondered aloud, “What happened? Everyone looks so panicked.” My colleague sighed: “CEO Zhou is back from the branch office. And he’s in a terrible mood today! Several colleagues who went to report were scolded terribly by him!” I was stunned. Zhou Ting’an is back? This CEO who’d been inspecting for nearly half an year finally decided to return to headquarters? Speaking of which, I only joined the company in the last six months and hadn’t dealt with CEO Zhou yet. I heard from old colleagues that although he had a cold personality, he wasn’t difficult to get along with. But looking at it now… it seems that’s not the case at all. “He wouldn’t lose his temper for no reason, right?” I was puzzled. “Who provoked him?” My colleague looked around to make sure no one was nearby before whispering the gossip: “Heard CEO Zhou’s girlfriend dumped him!” “And it was an abrupt, out-of-the-blue breakup!” 3 It really is breakup season… Thinking of my own situation, I couldn’t help but sigh, then asked curiously: “They wouldn’t break up just like that, right? There must be a reason?” My colleague squeezed a few words out of her throat: “Seems like she disliked CEO Zhou for being old…” I gasped: “Zhou Ting’an is old???” Isn’t he not even thirty yet?! And with that handsome face looking like a male model, to still be disliked… what kind of goddess must his girlfriend be! Before I finished speaking, the elevator door beside us rang. The door opened, and I made direct eye contact with the person inside. It was Zhou Ting’an. Don’t know if he heard me talking or not, anyway, his eyes were chilly, staring at my back until it felt cold. “CEO Zhou.” My colleague quickly greeted him, and the noisy corridor instantly went quiet. I subconsciously took two steps back to the side and also called out: “CEO Zhou.” Zhou Ting’an responded coldly/indifferently, stepping out. Just as it looked like he would pass me by, his footsteps suddenly stopped. The next second, he turned his head to look over, his gaze landing on my face: “Which department are you from?” 4 I was stunned for a moment. The team leader nearby quickly said: “This is Luna, new to the Planning Department.” Zhou Ting’an stared at me for a few more seconds, then instructed: “Have her come to find me to report later. I want to see the caliber of the new hires you’re recruiting.” The team leader agreed hastily, but I was completely bewildered. How did a small fry like me get picked to report? “Don’t be nervous.” After Zhou Ting’an walked away, the team leader comforted me: “Anyway, you’ve been following this project all along. Showing your face more in front of the boss is good for you taking on big projects in the future.” Since it came to this, I could only pack up the materials and go to the CEO’s office. Zhou Ting’an’s office was on the 17th floor, with excellent lighting, just frighteningly quiet. I did mental preparation at the door for quite a while before knocking on the CEO office door. “Come in.” A voice came from inside. I let out a breath and pushed the door open: “CEO Zhou, I’m here to report on work.” Zhou Ting’an sat behind the desk, expressionless: “Go ahead.” I had indeed been following the project; I was clear on the framework and details. I spoke for about ten minutes before stopping: “That’s roughly it, CEO Zhou.” Zhou Ting’an didn’t speak immediately, just flipping through the document file I brought. After a moment, he looked up, his cool, handsome face revealing no emotion: “Are you very nervous?” I nodded honestly: “A little.” Zhou Ting’an didn’t react much to this, just lowered his eyes again, finishing the last data set, and tossed the file folder onto the desk: “Go to HR to handle the handover.” I was dumbfounded: “CEO Zhou?” Zhou Ting’an looked at me, face waveless: “You are not suitable for the Planning Department.” My heart skipped a beat. Is he going to fire me?? 5 Thinking of this, I couldn’t help but gasp and quickly expressed my loyalty: “CEO Zhou, I know my report still has deficiencies, but I will work hard to learn from seniors in the department. Please give me another chance!” Zhou Ting’an ignored me, operating the computer on his own, looking like he was about to send an email to HR. Watching his actions, I knew there was no room for turning this around, and a wave of sadness rose in my heart. Don’t they say unlucky in love, lucky at cards (work)? How come I lost both the fish and the bear’s paw?! The more I thought about it, the more uncomfortable I felt. I held back my emotions and asked: “CEO Zhou, can I ask where I didn’t do well? Just consider it a lesson learned, so I won’t make the same mistake when I go to another company in the future.” Words fell, Zhou Ting’an finally looked over. His gaze paused for a moment on my red-rimmed eyes, and when he spoke, he seemed a bit helpless: “What are you going to another company for? To be a corporate spy?” I twitched my lips: “Aren’t you going to fire me?” Zhou Ting’an seemed to laugh: “When did I say I was going to fire you?” As he spoke, he pointed to the file folder on the desk, tone flat: “Just for this bit of stuff, you talked for so long. It’s a waste of talent in the Planning Department. Come over to my side.” I blinked, a bit confused. Zhou Ting’an had to turn the computer around to show me. Only then did I see that what he edited wasn’t a termination notice, but a transfer notice. Zhou Ting’an transferred me to the CEO’s office! “Go handle the handover this morning, come here to report in the afternoon.” Zhou Ting’an looked at me: “Any problems?” At this moment, my heart didn’t hurt anymore, my eyes weren’t red anymore, I nodded repeatedly: “No problem!” Zhou Ting’an gave a noise of assent and pushed the file folder over: “Go back and pack up.” I answered yes and stepped forward to take the document. My fingers touched the folder, but couldn’t pull it. I was stunned, looked up, and saw Zhou Ting’an reach out and press on the document, fingertips slightly tense. “This manicure of yours…” He stared at my fingertips, brows furrowing slightly: “Looks a bit familiar to me.” 6 I subconsciously looked down at my fingers. Because it was my zodiac year, I specially got a red manicure. It was even the style I chose together with that online dating old geezer. Seeing this touch of red now, I felt a sense of “seeing the nails is like seeing the geezer,” and inexplicably felt a bit annoyed. “Yes, this style is very popular this year, many people have gotten it done.” I gave a dry laugh and decided to remove the nail polish as soon as I got back. Zhou Ting’an looked at the nails, then looked at me. In the end, he said nothing and waved his hand to let me leave. The whole morning was chaotic. It was already noon by the time the handover was finished. I took a breather and went to the cafeteria for lunch. My appetite wasn’t good these past two days, so I just ordered plain noodles. After sitting down, I habitually pulled out my phone to take a picture and send it to my pinned contact: [Babe, lunch check-in~] After sending it, I put down my phone to eat. Just after slurping two mouthfuls of noodles, I suddenly felt something was wrong. Didn’t I already delete that online dating old geezer? Then who was I reporting to just now?? Thinking of this, my heart gave a jolt. I hurriedly turned on my phone. Once I saw the screen clearly, my vision suddenly went black— My current pinned contact was… Zhou Ting’an! Half an hour ago, I just got the CEO’s WeChat from the executive assistant and kept it pinned as requested. Who would have thought I’d cause trouble right after turning around! “Bad habits kill people…” I wailed, scrambling to retract it, but it was already over two minutes and couldn’t be operated. Even more frightening was that the next second, my phone vibrated. Zhou Ting’an actually replied to the message: [Who are you calling babe, Luna.] 7 Seeing this, I was incredibly embarrassed and hurriedly explained: [Sorry boss, sent to the wrong person…] Zhou Ting’an didn’t seem to mind either, just asked: [Eating so little?] I told the truth: [Not much appetite these past two days.] It went quiet on Zhou Ting’an’s end; he didn’t reply again. I figured he was just being polite casually, so I put away my phone and ate with peace of mind. Because of the handover work, I came down late. Plus, my habit of eating slowly meant that by the time colleagues in the cafeteria finished and left in twos and threes, I was only halfway through this bowl of noodles. There was still more than half an hour left until the end of the lunch break. Just as I was debating whether to continue eating or go upstairs to sleep, a shadow suddenly fell in front of me. Looking up, it was actually the executive assistant beside Zhou Ting’an. “Still eating?” The assistant sister smiled and handed over a lunch box, “Extra food.” I was stunned for a moment, reached out to take it, opened it, and a fragrant smell hit my nose. It was several small stir-fry dishes, perfect in color, aroma, and taste. “Wow, thank you!” I felt my appetite instantly improve. While feasting, I casually glanced at the lunch box logo and was shocked: “Sister, this restaurant is so expensive!” The assistant waved her hand: “CEO Zhou’s treat, eat up.” I clicked my tongue: “Gotta say, working in the CEO’s office is pretty good, can sponge meals off the boss.” The assistant laughed: “How could that be? CEO Zhou doesn’t order takeout much; he often eats in the cafeteria. Guess he wanted a change of taste today.” I blinked, thinking to myself that I was quite lucky to mooch a meal on my very first day. I didn’t have much work in the afternoon either, just following the executive assistant to learn, and got off work early in the evening. Back home after dinner, I slumped on the sofa ready to start a game. Just logged into the account and the screen flashed wildly, message notifications 99+, phone vibrating so hard I couldn’t hold it. It took a full minute for the phone to quiet down. Only then did I see the culprit, sure enough, it was the online dating old geezer. Only blocked his WeChat, forgot to delete the game friend. Looking at the couple icon flashing above our heads, I felt a wave of disgust and scrambled to unbind, but a message jumped out first: [Babe you’re finally online!] [Babe why break up with me QAQ] I looked at the message with a chill. Such a grown man still using emojis, disgusting! I was too lazy to even reply, clicked to delete friend, but just as I was about to tap delete, another message popped up: [I’m not even thirty yet. Although older than you, I can’t be called an old geezer, right? Babe is there some misunderstanding between us!!]

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I was the bait for our apocalypse survival squad. My brother had awakened a lightning ability, and my sister possessed a pocket dimension. I alone was powerless, my only talent being that I could outrun a zombie, if only by a fraction. Before the next horde of the undead arrived, I pleaded with Mom and Dad, begging them not to send me out to lure them this time. Mom and Dad pointed to the “safe house” they’d marked on the map, reassuring me. But when we reached the spot, my brother and sister cheered at the sight of the horde swirling around the house. I hid in the barren basement, shivering uncontrollably. When hunger finally made my head spin, I pushed open the cellar door, only to find no living breath outside. I picked up the walkie-talkie, and a voice crackled through: “Decoy deployed successfully, main team has withdrawn.” Only then did I realize I was nothing but a living shield of flesh. 1 Static. The crackle on the walkie-talkie hadn’t ceased. That chilling phrase, “Decoy deployed successfully,” hit me like a physical slap, stinging my face. The cellar was pitch black, truly, utterly dark. I felt my stomach; it was hollow. Three days. I’d survived on moldy potato skins for three days. Outside, guttural moans filled the air, punctuated by the scrape of nails on wood – a sound that grated like chalk on a blackboard, setting my teeth on edge. My name is Laila. Just as my old name suggested, I was soft-hearted, and my life, worthless. Three months into the apocalypse, I had become the family’s “full-time decoy.” My brother, Quinn, with his lightning ability, was the family’s bedrock. My sister, Rowan, with her spatial power, was our mobile storage unit. Mom and Dad handled logistics. And I? I was just the live target, the one who could “run a little faster.” “Laila, darling,” my mother used to say, “your brother is your only protector, and your sister manages our food supply. For the good of this family, what’s a little run?” This time, the horde was unprecedented in scale. They told me there was a safe house ahead. If I could just draw the bulk of the horde away, they could get inside, set up traps, and be secure for good. I believed them. Instead, I found myself locked in this basement, where only rats found refuge. They, however, drove off in their modified SUV, foot to the floor, speeding towards a true sanctuary. Leaving every single undead monster to me. The doorboards began to give. The stench of decay seeped through the cracks. I didn’t cry. Tears were water, and in this hellhole, every drop of water was life itself. I tightened my grip on the rusted steel pipe. It was my only weapon. BANG! A gap splintered open in the cellar door. A pale, grey hand snaked through, its nails like daggers. I didn’t scream. In the grip of absolute terror, a person often finds their voice seized. My mind echoed only one phrase: “Main team has withdrawn.” Withdrawn? Where to? That “Paradise Sanctuary” marked in red on the map? Two hundred miles from here. I laughed. The laugh tore at my chapped lips, drawing tiny beads of blood. The scent of blood seemed to excite whatever was outside. With a splintering CRACK. The flimsy wooden door shattered completely. A dozen pairs of sickly green eyes squeezed into the doorway. I should have died. By all rights, a pushover like me should have been ripped to shreds in a second. But just as the first zombie lunged. My world… slowed. Not metaphorically. It truly, literally slowed. The grotesque fangs, the spraying saliva, even the dust motes dancing in the air. Everything moved at half-speed. Instinctively, I dodged sideways. The sure-kill lunge brushed past my clothes, missing entirely. The zombie slammed into the wall, its skull rupturing. I froze. I stared at my hands. A strange heat pulsed through my limbs, tingling everywhere. Hunger. Not the hunger in my stomach. It was my cells roaring, craving energy. I looked at the dead zombie. Inside its ruptured skull was a small, glittering object. A core. My brother always forbade me from touching these when he killed zombies, claiming a normal person like me would explode if I did. Driven by an impulse I couldn’t explain, I picked it up. Wiped it clean, then swallowed it. BOOM! Something erupted inside my head. The warm current transformed into a raging hurricane. I heard it. The SUV’s engine, two hundred miles away. I smelled it. The savory aroma of stewed meat from my sister’s pocket dimension. And my parents’ false laughter. “Finally rid of that dead weight,” that was Mom’s voice. “The extra rations will last us days.” “She only survived this long because she could run fast,” my brother added. “Good riddance. A waste, but at least we got some use out of her.” I closed my eyes, then opened them again. Darkness, to me, was now as bright as day. I stepped over the corpses on the ground and walked out of the cellar. The horde outside instantly turned their heads toward me. Hundreds of them. A squirming mass. If this were before, I would have wet myself. But now, looking at them, I just felt… They were too slow. Slow as snails. I stretched my neck, my bones crackling with sharp pops. “Decoy deployed successfully?” I murmured to the empty street. “Then are you ready to face the hunter?” 2 I sprinted across the desolate wilderness. The wind, once a biting whip, now felt like a gentle caress on my face. Two hundred miles. Four hours by car, given the rough roads. I made it in a single night. My shoe soles were shredded, yet my feet were without a single blister. Dawn was just breaking. I spotted the familiar SUV. It was parked beside a dilapidated roadside diner and rest stop. Sprayed across its side was my brother’s obnoxious team name: “The Stormbringers.” A perimeter of zombie repellent powder had been liberally scattered around them. Such luxury. I’d risked my life to snatch that from a pharmacy, nearly losing my throat to a Licker in the process. Now, they used it like mosquito coils. I didn’t charge in directly. Though my speed was immense, I still wasn’t sure of the full extent of my newfound “ability.” My brother’s lightning, my sister’s stocked dimension, and my parents’ silver tongues that could twist black into white. I had to be cautious. I climbed a withered, skeletal tree. My vision was unnaturally sharp; through the tinted windows, I could make out every detail inside. They were eating breakfast. A self-heating meal. Steaming hot, the rich sauce bubbling. Rowan picked up a piece of processed meat, wrinkling her nose in disgust. “More lunch meat? I crave fresh vegetables.” Mom quickly soothed her, “Be a good girl, Rowan. Once we reach Paradise Sanctuary, I’ll grow you all the vegetables you want. Your space keeps things fresh, doesn’t it? Just save some for later.” Dad picked at his teeth, “Good thing we didn’t bring Laila. Otherwise, we’d have to share a sip of this soup with her.” My brother scoffed, “Give her soup? A waste. Her scrawny frame could survive on water alone.” I sat on the tree branch, listening without a flicker of expression. That gnawing hunger surged within me again. Not for their meal. No… I craved flesh. Living flesh. The thought startled even me the moment it surfaced. I touched my canine teeth. They seemed… sharper, longer? Just then, commotion stirred at the other end of the rest stop. A lone zombie shuffled, swaying, towards them. Drawn by the scent of their meal. Quinn frowned, setting down his fork. “How irritating.” He raised his hand, a violet arc of electricity crackling in his palm. ZZZZT! The zombie hadn’t even gotten close before it was incinerated into charcoal. “My boy is amazing!” Mom clapped. “Your ability is getting so powerful!” Quinn proudly blew on his fingertips. “Of course. I’m a Level Two ability user now.” Level Two? I narrowed my eyes. The zombie’s core hadn’t been extracted yet. I moved. Like a whisper of wind. Before they could even react, I had already swept past the charred corpse. With a flick of my fingers, the dull grey core landed in my palm. Then, I was back in the shadows behind the tree. The entire sequence took less than two seconds. “Huh?” Quinn rubbed his eyes. “Did something just… pass by?” “What are you talking about?” Rowan rolled her eyes. “It was just the wind. Are you seeing things, Quinn? You must be exhausted.” Dad cautiously scanned our surroundings. “Stop being paranoid. Eat quickly, then we hit the road.” Hidden behind the tree, I popped the still-warm core into my mouth. It crunched. Like a candy drop. Another wave of warmth flooded through my body. I felt my hearing sharpen even further. I could even discern the rhythm of Rowan’s heartbeat. And in her pocket dimension… the rustling of stacked supplies. So, it wasn’t just speed. I could “sense” things. My gaze fixed on the pendant around Rowan’s neck. The conduit for her spatial ability. And one of my targets. Since you called me dead weight, I’ll show you what true “heavy lifting” looks like. I picked up a pebble from the ground. Aiming for the SUV’s rear tire. With a powerful flick of my finger. PHUT— A muffled thud. The SUV lurched violently downwards. “Damn it! A flat tire?!” Quinn swore, scrambling out of the vehicle. The show had begun. 3 “What the hell happened? These are run-flat tires!” Quinn crouched by the wheel, staring at the finger-sized hole, utterly bewildered. “Did you run over a nail?” Mom fretted, wringing her hands. “Out here in the middle of nowhere, how are we supposed to change a tire?” “Where’s the spare?” Dad demanded. Rowan’s face went pale. “The spare… I tossed it out to make room for those designer bags.” The air hung heavy, thick with silence for three excruciating seconds. “You threw out the spare for bags?!” Quinn roared, his voice cracking. “What time do you think it is? Can those bags feed us? Can they get us out of here?” Rowan’s eyes welled up with tears of indignation. “But they were limited edition! I could never get them before! Besides, who knew a run-flat tire could burst anyway?” “Alright, alright, stop fighting!” Dad intervened, trying to be the peacemaker. “Rowan just wants us to live comfortably later. Quinn, you’re an ability user, surely you can figure something out.” “What am I supposed to do? I control lightning, not wrenches!” Quinn, frustrated, kicked the car door. Watching from the tree, I almost burst out laughing. So much for the “elite squad.” No spare tire meant they either abandoned the SUV or tried to patch it up, desperate. But this was a rest stop. A favorite gathering spot for the undead. The muffled pop of the tire, though not loud, would carry far in the silent wasteland. In the distance, faint yet distinct, came the sound of many footsteps. “Damn it, a horde!” Quinn’s face tightened, his ears twitching. “Quick! Grab what you can and run!” Rowan frantically began stuffing things into her pocket dimension. The car, the tent, the half-eaten self-heating meal… “Stop grabbing junk! Get the weapons! The water!” Quinn roared. It was then that I struck again. I aimed for Rowan’s wrist. WHIZZ! A pebble shot forth. Striking her nerve point dead on. “Agh!” Rowan shrieked, her hand spasming. The several cases of bottled water she was trying to store vanished from her grip, clattering to the ground and rolling everywhere. “My hand! My hand is numb!” She clutched her wrist, sobbing uncontrollably. “Stop wailing! They’re here!” Dozens of zombies burst forth from the rest stop buildings. Clad in tattered uniforms, their faces dripping with decaying flesh. “Quinn! Hold them off!” Dad pushed my brother forward, while pulling Mom back. Quinn gritted his teeth, unleashing lightning from both hands. “Lightning Net!” Several bolts of electricity arced out, felling the first few zombies. But the ones behind simply trampled over their fallen comrades, surging forward. And among them, this time, was one that was different. It crawled on all fours, its tongue disturbingly long, dragging on the ground. A Licker. The very kind that had almost ripped out my throat. It fixed its gaze on Rowan, seemingly sensing the vibrant warmth of her living flesh. ROAR! The Licker lunged. Blindingly fast, a crimson blur. Quinn’s lightning missed. “Rowan! Watch out!” Mom shrieked. Rowan froze, petrified, even forgetting to retreat into her dimension. Just as that long, horrid tongue was about to coil around Rowan’s neck. I dropped from the tree. Not to save her. But to steal her kill. This Licker’s core looked promising. I descended like a hawk, plummeting from the sky. My steel pipe, fueled by the force of my descent, plunged with chilling precision into the Licker’s hind brain. SPLAT. Black blood sprayed. The Licker didn’t even manage a whimper, nailed dead to the ground. I planted one foot on its head, yanked out the pipe, and swiftly dug out the core. My movements were fluid, seamless, too quick for the eye to follow. The air around us fell silent, instantly. The lightning in Quinn’s hands sputtered out. Rowan’s mouth hung open, tears still streaking her face. Mom and Dad stared, eyes wide, as if they’d seen a ghost. I slowly lifted my head, shaking the blood from the steel pipe. And offered them a radiant smile. “Hello, family.” “Surprised? Unexpected?” “A ghost… a ghost!” Mom was the first to react, her eyes rolling back as she swayed, about to faint. Dad fumbled to steady her, his whole body trembling. “La… Laila? You’re not…” “Dead?” I finished for him, toying with the blood-slicked core in my hand. “Disappointing, isn’t it? The Grim Reaper apparently found me too fast to catch.”

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