Category: English

On our wedding anniversary, Liam left me to attend a welcome-home dinner for his ex-wife. A video from the event went viral that same day. Liam, always restrained and proper, gently embraced his ex-wife. Looking at the text message from an unknown number on my phone, it read: “Miss Chloe, there was never any love between you and him, but my daughter needs a father.” I laughed. I, Chloe, the sole heir of the Hastings family. Whatever I want is easily within my grasp. I would never lower myself to play the clownish game of fighting another woman for a man. 1. At the welcome dinner, a photo of the two embracing was posted online by some busybody. Rumors of the Hayes family heir’s failing marriage quickly climbed to the number one trending spot. Before I could even react, the hashtag that was just marked “hot” suddenly disappeared completely. The Hayes Group’s official account quickly issued a statement. And sent a court summons to the most vocal instigator. The whole thing took less than ten minutes. After all, Liam wouldn’t let anyone affect the alliance between the Hayes and Hastings families. Just as I turned off my phone, every large billboard in Capitol City lit up with my name. Proclaiming the dignity I deserved as Mrs. Hayes. But I stared blankly at the neon lights. In five years, this was the first time. The man who was always meticulous and kept everything in perfect order. Was absent on our anniversary. The next day, just as I was about to leave the house, I saw Liam’s car pull into the driveway. Liam stepped out of the car, holding a small backpack that completely clashed with his aristocratic aura. In his other hand, he held a little girl’s hand. He crouched sideways and pulled the little girl into his arms. His eyes held a softness I had never seen before. Behind him followed a woman in a white dress. I recognized her; she was Liam’s ex-wife. He saw me standing by the car, froze for a moment, and then stopped. “Chloe, Lily has to go to school in Capitol City because of enrollment issues.” The man looked down, seemingly trying to explain. Before I could speak, I was interrupted by the woman beside him. “Mrs. Hayes, I’m sorry, I’m a single mother raising a child alone, I really have no other choice.” I stood in my heels, looking down at her from a higher vantage point. With a hint of sarcasm. “We are husband and wife talking, what right do you have to interrupt?” Liam frowned, but said nothing. Seeing the woman’s face turn red, I finally turned sideways to look at the somewhat serious man. “Because of the photos from this morning, the joint ventures between the Hayes and Hastings families have already dropped 10 percent.” I spoke with a cold face, which scared the little girl in the man’s arms into crying. “Go away, this is my daddy!” Liam frowned, hurriedly patting Lily’s back to comfort her. He looked at me, seemingly helpless. “Chloe, it was just a hug. I’ve already had someone handle the crisis with the joint ventures.” His tone was helpless, but it made my chest tighten. Just like the past five years. He only protected my face as Mrs. Hayes. But he seemed to have forgotten, I needed love too. I once taught him how to make me happy. But now I realize. If this relationship still needs me to teach him how, then it’s far too much of a failure. “Have them sent away before I get back tonight.” Leaving Liam with that one sentence, I drove off to the company. After all, as the heir to the Hastings family, I didn’t have much time to waste dealing with intruders. I worked until midnight before returning home. I firmly believed that Liam, knowing what was at stake, would have handled the two of them. But the moment I pushed the door open, that certainty came to a screeching halt. “Mrs. Hayes,” Maya had changed into a rather sexy nightgown, “You’re back. I’ll have the butler prepare dinner for you.” I narrowed my eyes. Is she treating herself as the lady of the house? I walked forward, a mocking smile on my face. I reached out and hooked my finger under her spaghetti strap, “You like wearing hand-me-downs?” Maya’s face stiffened, clearly not expecting me to completely brush off her provocation. “Can you give him back to me? You don’t love each other, but my child needs a father.” I stopped on my way upstairs, turned, and raised an eyebrow. “Family heirs only need interests, not love,” I said with a sneer. “Your perspective is far too narrow.” My disdainful look severely wounded Maya’s fragile ego, and her face turned pale. I curled my lips, ready to leave, but was stopped by the now emotionally unhinged woman. “You know he was with me yesterday, right? But do you know what we did?” She opened a photo on her phone, and an image of them in a hotel bed filled my vision. “Can Mrs. Hayes really tolerate this much?” I looked down and instantly recognized Liam’s hand. The ring on that hand was the one I put on him myself. My fingers unconsciously clenched slightly. But on the surface, I was still the notoriously cold and glamorous Hastings heiress. “When you eat too much fine dining, sometimes you just crave some cheap fast food, don’t you think?” Maya held her breath, her face flushing red from the humiliation. Back in my room, I looked at the already sleeping man. His usually meticulously styled hair was down. I unconsciously touched the ring on his hand. My fingertips traced his forehead, down the bridge of his prominent nose, finally resting on his thin lips. Liam, don’t disappoint me. 2. When I woke up the next morning, the space beside me was cold. I opened the door, and the sound of laughter drifted up. It was something this usually quiet villa had never seen. I stood by the railing, looking down at the scene below. The man who hadn’t stepped foot in the kitchen during our five years of marriage was frying eggs. The pure-looking woman and the cute child were playing on the sofa. I felt a bit mocked, and my eyes stung slightly. For a moment, I actually felt like I was the intruder. When I went downstairs, the harmonious atmosphere was instantly shattered. “Chloe,” Liam, holding a plate, didn’t look the least bit unnatural. “When are you sending them away?” It was the first time I had spoken to him in such a tone. Liam didn’t answer. Instead, he placed Lily in her high chair, settled her in, and then looked up at me. With that restrained impatience I hated so much. “I said, she needs to go to school here.” I felt a bit agitated. “Don’t tell me that the great CEO Hayes can’t even handle a school enrollment!” The more I spoke, the more I lost control. “Do you want to keep the child by your side, or the woman?” “Chloe!” The man interrupted me sternly. “Watch your words. Maya is Lily’s mother, she’s still so young, how can she be separated from her mother?” Seeing this, the little girl instantly threw a bowl of hot porridge at me, her voice tinged with tears. “I hate you, you’re the bad auntie ruining Daddy and Mommy!” Feeling the burning heat on my leg, I winced in pain. My sharp gaze instantly shot towards her. “I’m sorry, Lily didn’t mean it, she just missed her dad too much.” Seeing this, Maya hurriedly blocked my line of sight. I suppressed the suffocating feeling in my chest. Only now did I realize, the three of them really looked like a family. And I was ridiculously standing in opposition to them. A moment of anger made me lose my reason, and I looked coldly at Maya. “Do you think the Hayes family would want a five-year-old idiot who still doesn’t know basic manners…” “Chloe!” Liam’s voice, cold as an iceberg, instantly extinguished my anger. He confronted me without a trace of emotion, carrying a chill I had never seen before. “Lily is my, Liam’s, daughter. As my wife, you must accept her existence. Also, you lost your composure today.” With that, he picked up the teary-eyed little girl, turned, and left. Maya, behind him, naturally took the man’s briefcase. She looked back, a look of triumph on her face. The noisy villa instantly returned to silence. A wave of bitterness rose in my heart. In Liam’s mind, I was the perfect Hastings heir and the dignified, proper wife. So I couldn’t have my own emotions. And I certainly couldn’t lose my composure… Listening to the roar of the car engine fade away, my straight back finally slumped as if losing its strength. Liam, you disappointed me after all. Five years ago, during the financial crisis, The Hayes and Hastings families, as the leading forces in Capitol City, proposed an arranged marriage to counter foreign capital. As the only daughter of the Hastings family, I chose the recently divorced Liam. I knew he had an ex-wife and a daughter. But back then I thought, who doesn’t have a past? Who doesn’t have someone they miss? After we married, Liam was an almost perfect man. But when an exception actually appeared beside such a disciplined and proper man, I finally realized I couldn’t be as calm as I thought. … The next day, it was Old Mr. Hayes’s birthday banquet. As Liam’s wife, I had to attend. That evening, the man appeared precisely at the villa entrance. After getting in the car, it felt like there was an impassable chasm between us. After a long while, perhaps conceding, Liam sighed, closed the partition, and sat next to me. “Chloe,” he broke the silence, “You are the only Mrs. Hayes.” Feeling the warmth of his palm, I spaced out for a moment. I knew this was his way of making peace. The colorful city lights outside reflected on the man’s chiseled features. Right now, his deep eyes reflected only me. After getting out of the car, Liam held my hand the entire way. It left me in a bit of a daze. But this daze was quickly shattered. “Liam,” Maya, wearing a qipao, greeted the coming and going guests as if she were the lady of the house. Saying that, she naturally took the birthday gift from his hand, and only then spoke timidly, as if feigning surprise, “Ch… Mrs. Hayes.” I frowned, not losing my composure amidst the crowd. I just calmly looked at Liam, my eyes filled with questioning. “She’s Lily’s mother, and it’s Grandpa’s big birthday, he also wanted to see his great-granddaughter.” Liam’s gaze was candid as he spoke. The flower in my heart that had just regained a bit of life, Slowly withered again. “She appears openly at the Hayes family home, where does that leave me?” Liam seemed stunned as he looked at me. I let go of his hand, the warmth in my palm gradually replaced by a chill. A perfect heir like Liam, who survived the cutthroat battles of a wealthy family, How could he not understand Maya’s intentions? He just didn’t intervene. He was just indulging her. Seeing the curious stares of the surrounding guests, I tucked away the bitterness on my face. And became that perfect arranged marriage partner. Amidst the flashing lights, I felt my thoughts were a chaotic, tangled mess. Unknowingly, I found myself on the corridor of the Hayes family’s back garden to sober up. This was also where Liam and I first met. Our lingering affection began in late autumn, and we got together in the summer. Yet now, in the deep of winter, we were drifting apart. “Can the eldest Miss Hastings really tolerate being provoked right to her face?” A deep, magnetic, teasing voice came from behind. I looked sideways. It was Julian Thorne, the current head of the Thorne family. “This isn’t like you.” He said as he draped his pine-scented coat over my shoulders, dispelling the chill. “Just say the word, and I can make her disappear.” I didn’t think there was anything wrong with that. After all, if you weren’t ruthless, You would have long ago become a victim of family struggles. “No need, she can’t stir up any real trouble.” Julian suddenly stepped closer to me, his cold aura enveloping me layer by layer. “Then why are you drowning your sorrows here?” He placed his hands on my shoulders. “When you got married back then, I couldn’t resolve the obstacles within the Thorne family in time. But now, could you consider me?” Julian had always played the fool around me. Seeing him so serious now, I suddenly realized that the man in front of me had long shed his childhood immaturity. “Liam and I aren’t divorced yet, you know?” Julian looked unfazed. “I can be the other man for love, I’d be more than happy to.” I laughed and punched his shoulder lightly, just about to speak. But was forcefully pulled into another embrace. Liam’s face was dark, looking at Julian with hostility. Two top-tier men confronting each other caused the temperature around them to drop significantly. “Let’s go home.” After a long moment, Liam was the first to speak. In the car, the man closed the partition. To my surprise, he leaned in and kissed me. Unlike his usual gentle kisses, The intensity contained in this one made me frown. After a while, Liam pulled away from me, panting, his deep eyes carrying an emotion I had never seen before. “Chloe, stay away from him.” 3. The pain on my lips made me push him away. But I also felt somewhat indignant. I had merely exchanged two sentences with Julian. He brought Maya right into the house; what right did he have to make demands of me? “Why should I?” My tone was somewhat cold. Hearing this, Liam looked up, his deep eyes like a whirlpool, holding me fast. “Because you are my woman.” I frowned, “I’m not, Maya is.” Liam laughed at that, his usually cold face softening. “Mrs. Hayes, you’re jealous.” I pushed him away, harboring a childish unreasonableness even I despised. “Send them away.” The atmosphere instantly froze. Liam put away his smile, as if the tenderness from a moment ago was just my illusion. “Chloe,” he loosened his tie, sighing with extreme exasperation. “She won’t threaten you.” “Besides, Lily is my daughter, I can’t just abandon her.” I looked out the window at the retreating street scene. Only then did I notice a light drizzle had started, blurring my vision. “I’ve never stopped you from taking care of Lily.” Liam looked at me like he was looking at an unreasonable child. “Maya raised the child alone abroad; I owe her for these past five years.” An unspeakable bitterness suddenly swelled in my chest. “So you’re telling me I have to accept her revolving around my life, is that it?” Liam looked down and turned my body towards him. His palms gently covered my slightly red eyes. “I hope you can understand me. No matter what they do, my wife will always only be you.” Listening to his evasive, defensive words, I suddenly felt everything was very meaningless. Including the moments I had genuinely invested in, they all felt hollow. In this grand expectation, he disappointed me after all. Just then, my phone rang. It was an unknown number. “Miss Chloe, Liam and I didn’t think things through today, I’m sorry.” Attached was a photo of a man holding Lily under the moonlight, with her standing beside them laughing. I narrowed my eyes. Waves of tightness hit my chest. The tactic was low, but very effective. I threw the phone to Liam, my tone cold. “It looks like I’m the third wheel between you two, isn’t it?” The man froze, glanced down, but still instinctively defended her. “She just thought you might be uncomfortable and wanted to apologize.” I laughed out of sheer anger, my sarcasm fueled by rage. “Liam, are you playing dumb or do you really not get it? Are you only going to admit it when I catch you in bed?!” “Chloe,” Liam said in a low voice, a warning in his tone, “watch your phrasing. There is no line-crossing between Maya and me.” I sneered, with a choke in my voice that only I could hear. “No line-crossing?” “It’s only crossing the line if you’re naked, right?” The car went completely silent, and the look in Liam’s eyes beside me held an icy chill I had never seen before. “Chloe, you are Mrs. Hayes, you can’t be this intolerant!” I didn’t know how to describe what I felt at that moment. Except that the flowers that had once bloomed for him in my heart. Turned into a barren wasteland. I suppressed the bitterness in my heart, my eyes red. “I’m intolerant? Hah…” “If I were, I would have kicked them out on the first night! Would she have the chance to flaunt your bed photos in my face?” “If I were, when the photos on your social media went viral and hit the trending searches, the Hastings family would have dealt with her already!” My sudden outburst of emotion. All stemmed from the grievance of not being understood. This kind of thing is like the thorns on a rose. It pierces my heart, yet outsiders only see the beauty. Liam seemed a bit dazed, turning to look at my bloodshot eyes. “I…” I turned my head and rolled down the window. Letting the light drizzle hit my face to cover my pathetic tears. “Do you know why my name is Chloe?” I said, more to myself than to him. “Because my parents said I was the only one they cared about, unique and unmatched.” I took a deep breath, restoring the pride of the Hastings heiress. “So, if to you, I am just an expendable part of a cost-benefit analysis, then we are done here.” Hearing this, a panic he himself found surprising gripped Liam’s heart. 4. After getting out of the car, Liam held my hand. As soon as we stepped into the villa, Maya, holding a crying Lily, looked at the man with vulnerability. “Liam, Lily is fussing to see you, I…” But this time, Liam didn’t take the child; instead, he had the nanny take her back to her room. Under Maya’s surprised and confused gaze, He threw the phone at her. “Apologize.” The man’s sudden anger left Maya at a loss. She looked down at it, her eyes flashing slightly with jealousy. Liam looked at her cold face, losing his patience. “Chloe is my wife, don’t send these misleading things.” Perhaps it was her first time seeing Liam so stern and fierce; Maya’s eyes instantly welled up. Weeping, yet carrying an unwilling grievance. “I’m sorry, Miss Chloe. It was my poor choice of words, please forgive me.” I looked up at her, my eyes filled with nothing but coldness. I walked forward and lifted the woman’s chin with one hand, a look of contempt on my face. “Miss Chloe? If you can’t bring yourself to say ‘Mrs. Hayes’, I don’t mind having someone pry your mouth open.” With that, I looked down on her. “Put away your little tricks in front of me, otherwise I’ll let you know how many people who don’t know their place are locked up in the Hastings family’s secret rooms.” Maya, whom I pushed away, turned deathly pale, swaying unsteadily. Seeing this, Liam frowned and appropriately intervened. “Alright, as long as you know you’re wrong. I’ll buy a separate apartment for you and Lily. Don’t come here or to the old mansion anymore.” Saying that, he stood up, intentionally or unintentionally blocking my sharp gaze, protecting Maya behind him. Maya looked at him in disbelief. Tears spilled from her eyes, but she still took Lily and left the villa. But I didn’t expect that the next night, Maya would kneel before me, tears streaming down her face, crying hysterically. Next to her stood Liam, whose face was equally grim. “Mrs. Hayes, I was wrong. I shouldn’t have appeared and disturbed your life. But Lily is innocent, she’s just a child. I beg you to let her go, please!” I frowned, my face filled with endless coldness. “Watch your mouth! Who the hell do you think you are to throw dirty accusations at me!” Liam, who had been silent, stepped forward, a gloominess I had never seen before clinging to him. “The phone number the kidnappers used has been traced back to the son of your Hastings family’s butler!” The man closed his eyes, desperately suppressing his anger. “Chloe, the child is innocent. Hand her over to me, and I can let bygones be bygones.” I looked at him in disbelief. “You think I’m that kind of person?” Perhaps my gaze was too sorrowful. Liam looked away. “I have no choice but to believe it.” In that instant, I only felt that these five years of marriage were nothing but a joke. It took five years to realize that some people, some things, should never have appeared in my life. I suppressed all my emotions and looked at him. “Liam, in the end, you still disappointed me.” Having said that, amidst the man’s puzzled gaze, I spoke again, with only indifference. “If I, Chloe, want to deal with someone, I wouldn’t be stupid enough to use a domestic servant.” Then I walked up to the swaying Maya. “Even a vicious tiger wouldn’t eat its cubs; you’re ruthless.” I turned to look at the two standing side-by-side, full of mockery. After leaving, I called my special assistant. “Prepare a divorce agreement for me and Liam. Also,” I closed my eyes, and when I opened them again, only coldness remained. “Withdraw all domestic investments the Hastings Group has made in the Hayes Group, divest from the overseas joint ventures, and contact the Thorne family. I want the Hayes Group’s stock to hit its lower limit within three days.” Hanging up the phone, the rain outside the car window had stopped. “Liam, I will make you understand the meaning of regret.”

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On our fifteenth birthday, I heard my sister’s inner thoughts: “I can’t believe I’ve been reborn and sent back ten years. Soon, the billionaire’s wife and her nanny will come together to adopt us.” “In my past life, I chose the billionaire’s wife, only to be tormented at every turn by her son, Liam. Looked down upon by the whole family, I was eventually kicked out.” “My sister was just the nanny’s adopted daughter, but she ended up marrying Liam! Why?!” So, when the billionaire’s wife and the nanny appeared, my sister pushed me toward the billionaire’s wife. “Sister, didn’t you say you felt a connection with this auntie? Hurry up and call her Mom!” My eyes lit up. Top-tier family resources to support me? My future was so bright it could blind me! 1 I never thought that passing fifteen, nearing adulthood, someone would still want to adopt my sister and me. On the way to the orphanage director’s office, my sister’s voice suddenly echoed in my ears. “I can’t believe I’ve been reborn and sent back ten years. Soon, the billionaire’s wife and her nanny will come together to adopt us.” “In my past life, I chose the billionaire’s wife, only to be tormented at every turn by her son, Liam. Looked down upon by the whole family, I was eventually kicked out.” “My sister was just the nanny’s adopted daughter, but she ended up marrying Liam! Why?!” I stared at my sister for a long time, but her lips didn’t move an inch. Yet, her voice kept ringing in my ears. After the initial shock, I realized something. I could hear my sister’s inner thoughts! So, my sister had died once and been reborn. And in this life, she intended for me to suffer the hardships she endured in her past life, right? Noticing me staring, she looked back, immediately curving her eyes into a smile and asked, “Sister, why do you keep staring at me?” Could it be that she’s also reborn? Even if she is, I’m not afraid. If I could stab her to death at her and Liam’s wedding once, I can kill her again. I was horrified. So I was killed by her in my past life! My sister began to test me, “Sister, do you still hate me?” I reined in my shocked thoughts and forced a smile, “What are you talking about? Why on earth would I hate you?” My sister scrutinized me for a long time before finally confirming I hadn’t been reborn. Great, she won’t fight me for it later. Entering the director’s office, after the director introduced our situations to the billionaire’s wife and the nanny, my sister suddenly shoved me toward the director’s wife (wait, billionaire’s wife). “Sister, didn’t you say you felt a connection with this auntie? Hurry up and call her Mom!” She was just handing the billionaire’s wife over to me like that? My eyes lit up. Top-tier family resources to support me? My future was so bright it could blind me! 2 The billionaire’s wife instinctively caught me, looked me up and down, and a satisfied smile curved her lips. “Your name is Chloe, right?” Looking at the approachable billionaire’s wife, I felt reassured. I nodded, said yes, and hurriedly greeted her. The smile on the billionaire’s wife’s face grew even kinder. My sister didn’t even spare us a glance. She darted over to the nanny and grabbed her hand. “Mom, take me home, Mom!” Perfect. As long as I’m not adopted by the billionaire’s family, I can openly be with Liam. In this life, I must win him over! “???” Didn’t she just say Liam tormented her at every turn? Then why did she still want to be with him? With such a strong obsession, no wonder she stabbed me at my wedding with Liam in her past life. Reborn just for a man? That’s all she’ll ever amount to in this life. I suppressed the chill and hatred in my heart, giving the billionaire’s wife a small smile, “Auntie, are you willing to take me home?” According to my sister’s inner thoughts, this billionaire’s wife was my mother-in-law in my past life. Even though I was the nanny’s adopted daughter in my past life, she still allowed me to marry her son. This mother-in-law was definitely a good person. The more I looked at her, the more connected I felt. The billionaire’s wife had a gentle, dignified smile, and her voice was like a spring breeze, “Of course.” Seeing the billionaire’s wife chose me, the nanny agreed to take my sister home. After completing the paperwork, I got into the billionaire’s wife’s car. “Sister!” My sister stood by the nanny’s car and called out to me, smiling and waving, “Goodbye! I wish you all the best in the future.” No matter how I looked at her smile, it felt tinged with schadenfreude. Sure enough, the next second, her inner voice chimed in. Hmph, just wait for Liam to torment you. You’ll be kicked out by the billionaire’s wife and end up with nothing! In this life, not only Liam, but everything in the Hayes family belongs to me! She looked at the billionaire’s wife again, a flash of hatred in her eyes. In my past life, this damn woman kicked me out, disregarding ten years of mother-daughter bond. She won’t have it easy in this life either! Since God took pity on me and gave me a chance to be reborn, if I don’t play them to death in this life, my name isn’t Mia! Having finished her mental threats, my sister got into the nanny’s car without looking back. “…” Who exactly was she going to play to death? Oh, she did kill me in her past life. But how did she die? Why wasn’t I reborn? It’s so unfair. 3 On the way, the billionaire’s wife told me about her family situation. The reason she wanted to adopt a daughter was that after her first child, her uterus was damaged, and she could no longer have children. She underwent treatments for many years before finally giving up. It just so happened her nanny, who was adamantly single but wanted a child, agreed to come to the orphanage with her. I instinctively asked, “Then why didn’t you choose someone younger? Younger kids don’t have memories and it’s easier to build a bond with them.” The billionaire’s wife explained that the nanny chose an older child because she was too busy to take care of a little one and needed someone who could take care of themselves. “As for me,” she took my hand in hers, “I don’t think it’s harder to build a bond with an older child. I actually think we’ll have a lot in common. What do you think?” I had no memories of my past life. I only knew that in this life, I really wanted a home. Hearing this, my nose stung, and my eyes grew moist. “Then can I call you Mom?” The billionaire’s wife pulled me into her embrace, “Silly child, we’ve finished all the paperwork. I am your Mom now.” “Mom…” my voice trembled, and tears fell uncontrollably, “Mom…” When I sat up, I realized my tears had wet her clothes, and I immediately apologized. Children growing up in orphanages are more or less sensitive and insecure, and I was no exception. The billionaire’s wife’s eyes also reddened, “You are my daughter, you don’t need to say sorry to me.” For the rest of the ride, I nestled in her embrace, the scent of her perfume lingering near my nose, my heart filled with warmth. She also told me she had a son. Her husband was extremely busy, flying all over the world and rarely home, so it was usually just her and her son at home. I already knew her son, Liam, was my husband in my past life, even though I was stabbed to death by my sister at the wedding. But right now, I didn’t care about her son. I just wanted to be close to my Mom! 4 Upon arriving home, Mom immediately asked the butler to call her son down from upstairs. It took a long time before Liam finally sauntered down. I immediately stood up, instinctively stealing a few extra glances at him. He was also fifteen this year. Mom had told me he was half a year older, making him my older brother. So this was what my future husband looked like. But wait, that’s not right. In this life, I’m Mom’s daughter, Liam’s sister, so we definitely can’t be husband and wife. I couldn’t give up my Mom for a husband. So, I immediately called out sweetly, “Brother!” Liam looked me up and down, curled his lip in disgust, and plopped down on the other side of Mom. He pointed at me casually, “Mom, you said you wanted a daughter. Why didn’t you find someone prettier and cuter? You picked a little country bumpkin…” Mom gently rapped him on the head, “Don’t speak about Chloe like that. She’s your sister now.” Then she warned him sternly, “Liam Hayes, you better behave. If the orphanage comes for a follow-up visit and you cause me to lose my eligibility to adopt Chloe, you’ll answer to me.” I looked at Mom, my eyes almost turning into stars. Even when warning someone, my Mom was so gentle. She was the best Mom in the world! “Hey!” Liam glared at me, “Why are you looking at my Mom like that? Are you boy-crazy?” “Liam!” Mom rapped him on the head again, “Don’t speak to your sister like that.” She commanded, “Go, shake hands with your sister and tell her you’ll be a good brother. Go on!” Liam finally stood up, awkwardly extended his hand toward me, turning his face away, “Hello, I… I…” I shook his hand, “Hello, Brother. I will be a good sister from now on.” Liam forcefully pulled his hand away and sat back down next to Mom. I also returned to Mom’s other side, eager to be close to her, when I heard her say playfully, “Oh my goodness, my son is blushing! My son actually knows how to blush?” Liam shot up like a rocket, craning his neck and yelling, “Who’s blushing? What do I have to be embarrassed about?” After finishing, he stomped back upstairs to his room. Mom and I burst into laughter. “Don’t mind him, he’s just a bit silly.” Mom stood up, “Come, Mom will take you to see your room. It’s right across from your brother’s. If you need anything, just ask him. Don’t be shy. That boy has a bit of an awkward personality and a sharp tongue, but he has a good heart. You just have to take the initiative.” “Okay.” 5 The room Mom prepared for me was as luxurious as a princess’s room. I could never have imagined, not even if you beat me to death, that I would live in such a beautiful room in this life. Since my sister handed this over on a silver platter, I decided to temporarily forgive her for stabbing me in my past life. Actually, I only hated her for a moment when I learned she killed me, but since I had no actual memory of it, it didn’t feel like a personal experience, and the hatred quickly dissipated. I wasn’t going to dwell on it. Right now, all I knew was that I was the daughter of a billionaire family, I had excellent resources, and I needed to grasp them firmly. And I had a Mom who loved me! Oh my god, I was so happy! Mom asked me, “Is there anything else you need?” “Mom, I’d like a larger bookcase, is that okay?” I wanted to buy a lot of books. Mom was slightly surprised, but then a bright smile overflowed in her eyes, “You like reading? My fault, I forgot to prepare a study for you. No problem, we have empty rooms. I’ll have them cleared out as soon as possible and get you a few more bookcases.” She then handed me a bank card, “There’s twenty thousand dollars in here. From now on, I’ll transfer twenty thousand every month. Buy whatever you like. If it’s not enough, just ask Mom.” “It’s enough, more than enough. Besides buying books, I don’t have anywhere else to spend money.” I took the bank card calmly yet gratefully, “Thank you, Mom.” Mom gently stroked my hair, “Still so polite.” I tilted my head and smiled, “Then I won’t be polite with Mom anymore!” Unable to resist, Mom cupped my cheeks and gave me a kiss. “Ew~” Liam’s voice suddenly came from the doorway, “Do you two really have to do that?” Mom gave Liam a smiling, affectionate glare and took my hand, “Don’t mind him, he’s just suddenly jealous of us.” Liam scoffed, “What’s there to be jealous of? It’s better she clings to you. I find her annoying.” He gave me another look and left. Mom comforted me, “He’s just like that, sharp-tongued. It’ll get better once you spend more time with him.” I continued to nod. Anyway, I came to this house for Mom. I didn’t care about anyone else’s attitude towards me. Mom quickly set up a study for me. I ravenously bought all the books I previously liked, wanted to read but couldn’t afford, and brought them all back. Soon, the orphanage and government workers came for a follow-up visit. Seeing that Mom and I got along very well, they officially processed the adoption paperwork for us. After the paperwork was done, Mom arranged for my school enrollment, placing me in the same school as Liam. Liam was reluctant, “Why does she have to go to the same school as me? I’m used to going to school alone. Don’t expect me to babysit a burden.” Mom: “…” But seeing that I didn’t mind at all, she felt a bit more reassured. However, she still insisted that Liam and I take the same car to and from school. 6 I was a bit nervous, afraid I wouldn’t be able to keep up with the pace of the new school. After all, this school was much better than my previous one. Seeing me staring intently at my math book as soon as I got in the car, Liam scoffed out of habit, “Why are you working so hard? You’re already a child of our family. Are you afraid of doing badly in school and not knowing what to do in the future?” I glanced at him but didn’t speak. Even though I knew that in my past life Liam and I ended up together, I still found him a bit annoying right now. His mouth was really irritating. Liam suddenly thought of something and snatched the math book from my hands. “Hey, what are you doing?” I reached out, “Give the book back.” A wicked curve formed on Liam’s lips, “I know, you’re worried about doing badly and getting kicked out, right?” He raised an eyebrow cockily, “How about this, you beg me, and I’ll tutor you, help you stay. How’s that?” I was skeptical, “Would you really be that nice?” Seeing me staring at him, the wicked smile on Liam’s face paused. He gave an awkward cough and tossed the math book back into my lap. “Of course I’m lying. You actually believed that? So stupid.” “…” I knew it. The car stopped at the school gates. Before getting out, Liam warned me, “Hey, at school, you’re not allowed to say you know me, you’re not allowed to talk to me, and you’re definitely not allowed to say you’re my sister, got it? If everyone finds out… whatever, just remember what I said.” “Don’t worry.” Liam got out first, telling me to wait a while before getting out. How could I have liked someone like this in my past life? I waited ten minutes before getting out. Because Mom was also very busy, the driver took me to the principal’s office first. Knowing I was the adopted daughter of the Hayes family, the principal was very polite and called my homeroom teacher to take me to my classroom. I stood at the front and introduced myself. Mom originally wanted to change my last name, but Liam adamantly refused. He even gave Mom a high-sounding reason, saying I was already quite grown and keeping my original last name was a sign of respect. Mom asked for my opinion, and since I didn’t mind, she agreed. So, I was still Chloe Smith. Suddenly, a student said, “Your last name is Smith too? How come both new students today are named Smith? You look a lot like Mia Smith.” 7 I followed everyone’s gaze and met my sister’s eyes. She wasn’t surprised at all. She’s finally here. In my past life, I led the bullying against her at school, and when Liam found out, he stopped talking to me. It wasn’t until after I died that I realized Liam fell in love with her at first sight at school. That’s why he didn’t like me. In this life, it’s her turn to bully me. Liam will definitely hate her to death. “…” Is she crazy? Why on earth would I bully her? The teacher also asked about my relationship with Mia. I told the truth, “Mia and I are sisters, we’re fraternal twins.” My sister spoke up, “Don’t say that. You were adopted by a billionaire family, I wouldn’t dare claim a connection with you now. I… I’m just a nanny’s adopted daughter now. You don’t need to pretend we have a deep sisterly bond and that you don’t look down on me.” The students sensed the subtle tension. They looked at my sister, then at me, all wearing expressions of people ready to enjoy some drama. I smiled, neither humble nor arrogant, “Mia, what do you mean by ‘just a nanny’s adopted daughter’? Do you think being a nanny is lowly?” My sister choked, “I never said that, don’t twist my words.” Little bitch, choking me the moment she arrives. She’s always been sharp-tongued, I can’t let my guard down. The teacher assigned me a seat and began the lesson. The pace was similar to our previous school, but having missed a few days, I was a bit behind. I decided to find time to ask the teacher to help me catch up. My sister’s inner voice rang out again. I’m familiar with all these concepts. In this life, I’m definitely going to be the top student. In my past life, because my sister was good at studying, after Liam fell in love with her at first sight, he discovered how capable she was and loved her even more. In this life, I’m the top student. Liam will definitely fall madly in love with me! Her thoughts grew increasingly excited, like she was having a sweet dream. Can she really become a top student with her mind entirely focused on men? The bell rang for class to start. The first period was math. I started feeling nervous again. Having missed those classes, I surely wouldn’t be able to keep up. Even though I self-studied before coming to school, I still lacked confidence. By the end of the class, I found I had actually kept up. No wonder my sister’s inner voice called me a top student in my past life. My grades had always been very good, but as a newcomer to this school, I lacked a bit of confidence. Through this one class, I figured it out. Studying? Easy peasy! However, during the break when everyone was chatting, I couldn’t get a word in edgewise. Only then did I realize that in their world, academic grades weren’t the most important thing. They knew so much and had been to so many places to see the world. And me? I only knew how to study. To myself, I was a top student; to them, I was just a bookworm. The confidence I had just built up plummeted again.

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Chapter 1 As the year neared its end, I managed to lock down a multi-million dollar contract for the company. Just as I was preparing to announce the good news at the annual gala, My manager beat me to it, announcing the promotion list. “Congratulations to David, promoted to Deputy Director.” “Congratulations to Ryan, promoted to Team Leader.” Finally, she looked at me. “Chloe… from now on, you’ll be responsible for providing full support to them.” I couldn’t help but ask: “Manager Davis, then what position am I being promoted to?” She frowned: “The positions have all been distributed! Company resources need to be concentrated to produce the maximum value.” “You’re still young, don’t be too calculating about gains and losses.” “They are an overseas elite and an industry expert; they are the ones who contribute the most to the company.” I clutched the multi-million dollar contract I had just signed: “So if I have no value to the company, can I just go process my resignation now?” Manager Davis stood right up, arrogant and domineering: “Chloe, are you threatening me?” “You don’t actually think the company will stop running without you, do you?” I clenched my fists, trying to reason with her: “Manager Davis, it seems you’re the one bullying people first, aren’t you?” “I’ve been with the company for so many years; even if I don’t have major achievements, I’ve put in the hard work.” “Why is it that when it’s my turn, the positions are all gone?” Manager Davis’s expression changed: “What kind of talk is that? Did the company not pay your salary? Did we not pay your benefits?” I was so angry I laughed: “Manager Davis, right after my probation period, you threw a pile of tasks at me that no one else wanted to touch.” “Half a year later, when I produced results, you credited all the success to David and Ryan.” “Saying someone like me, who just graduated from a regular state college, couldn’t compare to those two.” I remembered when I first joined, Manager Davis dumped all the difficult clients on me. Sugarcoating it as ‘the capable do more work’, but in reality, she just wanted a scapegoat. She always despised my educational background, acting like hiring me was a massive favor. She rolled her eyes: “You really don’t know what’s good for you! You were able to improve so fast precisely because of the trials I put you through!” “You should be thanking me!” Before I could speak, she added: “One is an overseas grad, the other is an expert. What do you have to compare with them?” “Blame yourself for not stepping up. Who told you not to be as valuable as them?” My chest felt incredibly tight: “So because my degree isn’t as prestigious as theirs, I don’t deserve to be treated fairly?” Manager Davis shot back: “Save that crap for someone else!” “They are simply better than you, more useful than you!” “The workplace is like this: survival of the fittest!” Looking at her arrogant face, my heart completely turned cold. Manager Davis sneered at me: “If you’ve got time to waste, go handle your work. Stop holding everyone up!” I looked at David and asked: “Do you agree with this too?” David glanced at the manager and whispered: “I… I can’t really say. I just follow the manager’s arrangements.” I sneered and turned to Ryan: “Ryan, what about you?” Ryan frowned: “I listen to the manager.” “Besides, resources belong to the company; the manager distributes them however she sees fit.” I gave a scoff and slowly stood up. Clutching the contract in my hand, I looked at them and said: “In that case, don’t expect me to bust my ass for you guys anymore!” As soon as I finished, Manager Davis slammed a folder onto the table: “You’re out of line! You’re probably just looking for an excuse to get a raise, aren’t you?” “Stop causing a scene here. If you want to get lost, hurry up and get lost!” Chapter 2 Looking at Manager Davis’s distorted, furious face, I ignored my colleagues trying to stop me, slammed the door, and stormed out of the conference room. Just as I reached the stairwell to calm down, my phone started vibrating continuously. First was Mr. Lin, the Finance Manager. He was the company’s peacemaker; I didn’t even need to think to know why he was calling. I hesitated for two seconds, then answered. “Chloe, I heard you had a little disagreement with Manager Davis?” “It’s normal for young people to have a temper, but David and Ryan do have seniority…” “Mr. Lin,” I interrupted him, “this isn’t an issue of seniority; it’s an issue of fairness.” Mr. Lin gave a dry laugh: “Where is there absolute fairness in the workplace?” “How about this: you go apologize to Manager Davis first, then treat her to a meal later. Once you talk it out, everything will be fine.” I scoffed and asked: “What exactly did I do wrong that requires an apology?” Mr. Lin fell silent for a moment, his tone turning a bit heavier: “Chloe, aren’t you just being difficult now?” “Cool down first, then go have a good talk with Manager Davis and try to smooth things over.” Too lazy to play along, I simply hung up. The phone rang again. It was Manager Davis. I immediately rejected the call. She sent a text: [Giving you one last chance. Come back right now and admit your mistake, and we’ll turn the page. Otherwise, it will be processed as a voluntary resignation!] Looking at that text, any trace of hesitation in my heart vanished. I opened my contacts and found the CEO’s secretary’s number. Because of a previous cross-departmental project, we had collaborated a few times, and she had a good impression of me. “Secretary Wang, this is Chloe from Sales.” “I have something important to report to the CEO. Could you arrange ten minutes for me?” Secretary Wang was clearly a bit surprised but still gave me a time. “The CEO has a gap at 4:00 PM.” “Okay, I’ll be there right at 4:00.” Hanging up, I went back to my desk to prepare my materials. David suddenly rushed over to me. “Chloe, are… are you really leaving?” “What else?” I retorted, “Stay and continue being your stepping stone?” David sighed: “That’s not the right way to look at it…” “Making a scene like this won’t do you any good. And that project you were following up on…” “What about that project?” I went on high alert. David hemmed and hawed. “Well, Manager Davis assigned that project to Ryan and me to follow up on…” My heart sank. Not only do they steal credit, but now they want to snatch clients directly? I asked coldly: “Which client?” “That… the Zenith Corporation one…” David’s voice trailed off. Zenith Corporation. The exact company I had just signed the multi-million dollar contract with yesterday. David whispered an addition: “Manager Davis said since you’re leaving, that client will be handed over to us.” I clenched my fists. Manager Davis was banking on me not daring to tear things completely apart, aiming to pocket the fruits of all my labor. I got up and walked toward the elevator, taking the contract with me. This was the result of working overtime until late every night for the past six months. Since they won’t give me a way to survive, I’ll carve out a path myself! Chapter 3 By the time I walked out of the CEO’s office, it was almost closing time. He personally walked me to the elevator. “Chloe, why don’t you reconsider?” I gave a light chuckle and shook my head slightly. “I appreciate the training the company has provided me, but I’ve already made up my mind.” The CEO sighed and didn’t push further. On my way back to the Sales Department, I intentionally avoided the main office area. But passing by the break room, I still overheard the gossip. “Did you hear? Chloe slammed the table at Manager Davis during the meeting today!” “Tsk tsk, if you didn’t know better, you’d think she was the manager.” I walked briskly past, ignoring the voices. Back at my desk, I started packing my things. Kevin called. He was my closest colleague in the company. Finally, a trace of warmth returned to my heart. At least someone genuinely cared about me. “Chloe, are you okay?” “I’m fine,” I said, “just a bit tired.” He paused, and when he spoke again, his voice was very soft: “Chloe, I know you’ve been wronged, but… could you come back and help out first?” “My performance review this year is tied to this project. If the project falls through, my year-end bonus is gone. My mom is sick and needs surgery this year; I need that money…” I gripped my phone, my knuckles turning white. So he was here to persuade me, too. I took a deep breath: “Kevin, do you remember when Manager Davis put her name on the results of your hard work, and you cried the whole night out of anger?” Silence on the other end. After a long time, he whispered: “I’m sorry… but…” I asked in return: “So my fairness doesn’t matter, is that it?” “Your difficulties are real difficulties, but my difficulties are just what I deserve?” He didn’t answer. I spoke up first: “Kevin, you’re my best friend in the company.” “If you really have an urgent need, I can lend you the money.” “But regarding the Zenith project, I just want fairness.” With that, I hung up the phone. Thinking of these people standing on the moral high ground trying to persuade me. A chill washed over my heart. Since you all think I’m unworthy, then I’ll leave. Let’s see if the company will still run without me! Chapter 4 Early the next morning, I was woken up by a call from Secretary Wang. She said the CEO wanted me to come into the office today to talk about the project. My mind had been full of all the grievances I’d suffered at this company over the years last night. I didn’t want to return to the place that had caused me so much suffering. But that project was, after all, something I had worked relentlessly on for a long time. I still had some attachment to it. After hesitating for a moment, I decided to go to the company. As soon as I walked into the company building, I felt something was off. Normally, people never gave me a second glance. But today, everyone was acting completely out of character. Mark from the Finance Department greeted me with a smile, holding a cup of coffee. “Chloe! Morning! Brought you a latte, light on the sugar, right?” I was stunned. In my three years at the company, the number of times Mark had spoken to me could be counted on one hand. Before I could react, he shoved the coffee right into my hand. “Don’t be shy, don’t be shy! You’ve got a bright future ahead!” I frowned, not saying a word. I walked quickly to the elevator, but things inside were even weirder. People were actually making room for me. “Chloe’s here? Come in, come in, there’s space over here.” Linda from HR, standing in the corner, smiled and said: “Chloe, did you not sleep well last night? You look a bit pale, do you want to request a couple of days of comp time?” Everyone’s eyes were fixed on me, carrying a fawning look. Leaving me with a face full of question marks. It wasn’t until the elevator doors opened that I completely understood. A red banner caught my eye: [Warm Congratulations to Comrade Chloe for Signing a Multi-Million Dollar Contract!] All my colleagues in the department were standing neatly under the banner. Each one wearing a plastered smile. Manager Davis was holding a large bouquet of flowers, and seeing me step out, immediately rushed over. “Chloe! Congratulations! Look at you, signing such a huge contract and not telling us sooner? You made us all misunderstand!” David also chimed in, beaming: “Yeah, yeah, Chloe, you’re too low-key! Yesterday I even told Manager Davis that such an important project must be handled by you!” Ryan’s expression was a bit stiff, but he still forced a smile: “Chloe, I was thoughtless before, don’t hold it against me.” Looking at the scene before me, I found it incredibly absurd. Yesterday they were standing on their moral high ground, criticizing me. Today, acting like nothing happened, greeting me with smiles. Looking at their hypocritical faces, I just wanted to throw up. I pushed away the flowers in her hand. “Manager Davis, didn’t you say yesterday that I wasn’t as valuable as they are?” Manager Davis’s smile faltered for a second: “That… that was just me speaking out of anger! You can’t take that seriously! I was just trying to motivate you!” I shook my head and pulled a resignation form out of my bag. “No need for motivation anymore. This is my resignation application; please sign it.” As soon as the words fell. Everyone’s smiles froze on their faces. Manager Davis stared at the piece of paper, her face gradually darkening. She stepped forward, lowering her voice: “Chloe, what are you trying to do?” “I want to resign.” Infuriated, Manager Davis raised her voice: “You don’t really think you can do whatever you want just because you signed one big contract, do you?” “Let me tell you, without this company’s platform, you are nothing!” She snatched the resignation application from my hand and ripped it to shreds: “I’m telling you, Chloe, today you either obediently get back to work, or I’ll make sure you can’t survive in this industry!” Looking at the torn paper on the floor, and then up at Manager Davis’s twisted face, I suddenly laughed. “Davis, let me tell you. Mr. Vance from Zenith explicitly stated that he only recognizes me, Chloe, for this project.” “Furthermore, the CEO has agreed that if I resign, I will take the Zenith project with me.” “That’s what we discussed in the CEO’s office yesterday.” “Impossible!” Manager Davis screamed, “How could the CEO agree to such a demand!” I walked towards her, pronouncing every word clearly: “Because Mr. Vance said that if the company didn’t agree, he would immediately terminate the cooperation and pursue the company for breach of contract.” “The penalty for breach of contract is thirty million. Manager Davis, do you think the company will keep you, or keep the thirty million?” Chapter 5 The air in the entire department seemed to freeze. The colleagues who had just been sporting smiles were now frozen in place, their eyes filled with shock. Manager Davis’s face turned deathly pale, unable to utter a single word. I turned and walked to my desk, pulling out a cardboard box I had prepared earlier from the drawer. Inside the box were only a few notebooks, a fountain pen I had used for three years, and a small cactus from my desk. Ryan suddenly rushed over and blocked my path: “Wait! Chloe, you can’t do this! This project is a company resource, how can you…” I stopped and looked at him: “Ryan, didn’t you say yesterday that resources belong to the company, and the manager distributes them however she sees fit?” Ryan’s face flushed beet red: “That… that was…” I asked calmly: “That was what? Didn’t you guys make it very clear yesterday?” “David is an overseas elite, you are an industry expert, and I have no value to the company.” “Since I have no value, isn’t my resignation exactly what you wanted?” David stood behind Manager Davis, keeping his head down, not daring to meet my eyes. I picked up the box and walked toward the door. Manager Davis finally found her voice, but the arrogance from earlier was gone: “Stop! Chloe, you… you should reconsider.” “I can help fight for that Deputy Director position for you…” I didn’t even look back: “No need, Manager Davis. You were right yesterday; the workplace is like this, survival of the fittest.” “Since I have no value, I won’t hog the company’s resources.” The elevator doors opened, and I walked in. Right before the doors closed, I saw David and Ryan looking at each other in dismay. And in the eyes of the other colleagues, besides shock, there was a trace of subtle panic. They knew what losing the multi-million dollar Zenith project meant for the entire department. Chapter 6 After getting home, I put the cardboard box in the corner and called Mr. Vance from Zenith. “Mr. Vance, it’s me, Chloe.” Mr. Vance’s voice was booming and enthusiastic: “Chloe! How did it go? Did your company agree?” I said: “I’ve resigned, and I will personally take over the project.” “It’s just that I need to register a company now, which will take a little time…” Mr. Vance said cheerfully: “That’s easy to handle! We can sign a letter of intent first, and then transfer to a formal contract once your company is registered.” “But Chloe, I have to warn you, starting a business isn’t easy. Are you sure you want to go solo?” I gripped my phone tightly: “Mr. Vance, I don’t have a way back anymore.” Mr. Vance was silent for a few seconds, then said: “Good, I like young people with drive like you!” “How about this, come to my company tomorrow, and we’ll sign the letter of intent first.” “I also have a few friends who need similar services, I can introduce them to you.” After hanging up, I looked at my empty apartment, and a sudden, indescribable feeling welled up inside me. Right then, my phone rang again. It was Kevin. I hesitated, but picked it up anyway. Kevin’s voice was very soft: “Chloe… I’m sorry.” “I thought about it all day. I was too selfish. I only thought about my own difficulties and didn’t consider your feelings.” I stayed silent. He continued: “Manager Davis blew up during the meeting, saying the year-end bonuses might be affected.” “Everyone is complaining… but I know, it’s not your fault.” I interrupted him: “Kevin, you don’t need to apologize.” “Everyone has their own struggles in the workplace. I just want to tell you, there are some bottom lines that cannot be crossed.” He paused: “I understand. If you need manpower for your startup… I… I can quit and help you.” I was stunned. Kevin had been with the company for five years, always an honest, rule-abiding guy who never dared to offend anyone. The fact that he could say this surprised me greatly. I said: “Don’t be impulsive. I’m just starting, I haven’t even registered the company yet, the future is uncertain.” Kevin’s voice became firm: “I know. But I want to take a gamble.” “Not just for you, but for myself too. I don’t want to live a life having to read the room and kiss up to people anymore.” We agreed to meet and talk in detail tomorrow evening. After hanging up, I sat on the sofa, staring at the night sky outside the window for a long time. Chapter 7 The next morning, I arrived at Zenith Corporation as promised. Mr. Vance’s office was on the top floor, with floor-to-ceiling windows offering a panoramic view of the entire city. He was in his fifties, slightly plump, with an amiable smile, but his eyes carried the shrewdness of a businessman. He pointed to the chair opposite him: “Chloe, have a seat. I’ve already had the legal department prepare the letter of intent.” “But before that, I have a few questions for you.” I nodded: “Go ahead.” “First, why did you resign to go solo? Signing this project should have gotten you a promotion and a raise, right?” I smiled bitterly: “Mr. Vance, if the company truly valued me, I wouldn’t be sitting here.” I briefly recounted what happened at the annual gala. Mr. Vance listened, shaking his head: “Short-sighted. Many companies are like this, preferring to poach ‘talent’ with high salaries rather than properly cultivating their own people.” “Then the second question: how do you plan to execute this project? What support do you need from me?” I pulled a thick proposal out of my bag: “Mr. Vance, this is my overall plan for the project. If you can give me three months…” Mr. Vance flipped through the proposal, nodding occasionally. After reading it, he looked up: “Chloe, I chose to work with you originally, not because of your company, but because of your professionalism and sincerity.” “Other salespeople just boast about themselves; only you truly understand our needs.” He stood up and walked to the window: “How about this, I can help you solve the office space issue.” “Additionally, I can advance part of the project funds to serve as your startup capital.” I looked at him in shock: “Mr. Vance, this…” Mr. Vance turned around, his expression serious: “Don’t rush to thank me. I have conditions.” “First, the quality of the project cannot be compromised.” “Second, if your performance is subpar, I will terminate the partnership at any time.” “Third, I want 10% equity in your company.” I hardly hesitated: “I agree.” Mr. Vance smiled: “Straightforward! Then let’s sign the letter of intent.” “Once your company is registered, we’ll sign the formal contract.” After signing, when Mr. Vance walked me to the elevator, he suddenly said: “Chloe, unfairness in the workplace is sometimes a bad thing, but sometimes it’s an opportunity.” “It just depends on whether you can seize it.” Chapter 8 After leaving Zenith, I went straight to the Bureau of Industry and Commerce and submitted my company registration application. The company name: “NovaTech.” On the way home, I received three WeChat messages. The first was from David: [Chloe, I’m sorry. I know I was wrong about what happened, please come back.] The second was from Ryan: [Chloe, I was wrong before. If you need industry resources, I can introduce you to a few people.] The third was from Manager Davis, just three words: [Just you wait.] Looking at these three messages, I felt a mix of emotions. That evening, Kevin and I met at a small restaurant. He also brought Ella, an intern from the company’s design department who had just graduated this year. Kevin introduced her: “Chloe, Ella heard about what happened to you and wants to quit and work for you too.” “Although she’s young, her design skills are top-notch. She designed Zenith’s promotional brochure last time.” Ella adjusted her glasses somewhat shyly: “Chloe, my chances of becoming a full-time employee there are slim… and, I admire your courage.” Looking at these two people in front of me who believed in me, a wave of warmth surged in my heart. I said honestly: “Starting a business is very tough. We might not have income for a long time, and we might even fail.” Kevin said earnestly: “We know. But at least, we’re working for ourselves.” That night, we finalized the division of labor: I was responsible for overall operations, Kevin for project execution, and Ella for design and promotion. As we were leaving, Kevin suddenly said: “By the way, Manager Davis was called in for a talk by the CEO this afternoon.” “I heard the CEO was furious and scolded her for losing the biggest contract since the company was founded.” “And then?” “Then Manager Davis came back and took her anger out on everyone, saying it was all because someone was secretly helping you…” “Chloe, you have to be careful. Manager Davis is petty; she might retaliate.” I nodded: “I’ll be careful.”

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When Arthur Vance tried to force me into a divorce for that actress one more time. I chose to compromise. The hand holding his cigarette paused. After a long moment, a half-smile played on his lips: “What, being so obedient this time.” “Did you figure out throwing a tantrum is useless, so you’re trying a new tactic?” I took off my wedding ring and said calmly: “No, I just don’t want to drag this out anymore.” 1 After a long silence, Arthur put out his cigarette. Leaning against the wall, he said leisurely: “Actually, there’s no rush.” “It’s just that Mia’s career is taking off right now.” “You constantly harassing her is really annoying.” I didn’t answer, just carefully signed my name on the divorce agreement, stroke by stroke. Then I said, “Don’t worry, it won’t happen again.” Arthur stiffened slightly, seemingly lost in thought. A moment later, he stood up straight, a barely perceptible trace of irritation in his voice: “Good, it better be.” “Otherwise… you know the consequences.” My body instinctively trembled. The last time I was forced to divorce, I had a breakdown. I directly leaked the explicit photos Mia had sent to provoke me online. But Arthur sued me for defamation. Afterwards, her fans doxxed me, forcing a public apology. That time, after hearing the court rule in his favor, Arthur was just like this, calmly watching me break down. Then, raising an eyebrow, he dropped the line: “Wife, are you satisfied with this result?” It’s strange. It was so painful and suffocating then. But thinking back on it now, My heart feels completely numb, only finding it ironic. After walking out the door with my luggage, I looked at the plane ticket in my hand. With hindsight, I realized. I had finally let go of this relationship that had left me in such a pathetic state. 2 On the large screen in the mall. Mia, endorsing a major lipstick brand, smiled with dazzling confidence. It gradually overlapped with the image of the little girl baring her fangs to provoke me in my memory. Arthur was right about one thing. Mia’s career was indeed taking off recently. Those explicit photos not only failed to affect her, But instead, because of her unapologetic attitude, fans praised her as an “independent, clear-headed leading lady.” But the first time I discovered Arthur was cheating, Was due to Mia’s own provocation. At that time, I turned the entire Vance family upside down. I made sure everyone knew about Arthur’s scandalous affair. During that time, all the wives I was on good terms with were advising me. Advising me to be magnanimous. Advising me to compromise. But I was full of hatred. I hated Arthur for betraying me. Hated him for turning me into a hysterical madwoman. While he lived it up, embracing his little lover. I refused to accept it and refused to compromise. Until that time, reporters caught them going to a hotel room together. The situation blew up, and Arthur, to protect Mia’s future and reputation, Decisively chose to go public with their relationship. Back then, the top trending searches were all about the love story between the wealthy heir and the actress. Driven mad by the provocation, I ran to Arthur’s company and caused a huge scene. Arthur suppressed his anger and told Mia to leave first, which only made me break down further. I smashed his head with an ashtray, cursing him for being trash from a dumpster. At the end of the argument, his face cold, he blurted out: “Yes! I am trash, and I did cheat. If you can’t stand it, then let’s get a divorce!” As the words fell, both he and I froze. But in the end, I spoke first. I was more hysterical than before, acting more like a madwoman. “Why should I agree to a divorce?!” “Why should I step aside for you and that bitch?!” “Arthur, you and she deserve to carry the names of adulterer and homewrecker for the rest of your lives!!!” 3 After that incident, we parted on bad terms. Arthur didn’t even come home anymore. The only way I knew his whereabouts was through Mia’s affectionate posts on social media. Under the multiple blows, I made an extreme decision, intending to drag us all down together. I posted my marriage certificate with Arthur online, pointing out the fact of their affair. But before the situation could escalate, Arthur made his move. He paid a high price to bribe my mother’s attending physician, keeping him stranded abroad. Then he forced me to clarify that the marriage certificate was fake. The moment I heard the news, all color drained from my face. I didn’t even notice Mia’s provocative, triumphant look. I almost shrieked in a breakdown: “Arthur, you know perfectly well her illness can’t be delayed!” “You know this will kill her!” “How can you be so ruthless!?” But Arthur remained unmoved, still calmly smoking his cigarette. After I collapsed on the sofa, exhausted, He finally put out his cigarette, saying unhurriedly: “Wife, don’t expect me to go easy on you.” “Go clarify it, don’t ruin her.” At that moment, my heart felt a suffocation and despair like never before. Like a dying fish, only able to helplessly flop on the shore. I couldn’t even believe the man in front of me was my former lover. It was also that day that I finally decided to end this relationship. 4 But what left me in a pathetic state was far more than just this. My mother’s illness couldn’t wait; I could only choose to compromise. I personally admitted that the marriage certificate was fake, that it was all because of my jealousy and wishful thinking. The comment section of that post is still filled with filthy insults directed at me to this day. “Lady, are you crazy desperate for a man?!” “Psycho, daring to spread rumors that my goddess is a mistress. How cheap can you get.” “Who’s gonna go slap her to wake her up?” “Crowdfunding, I’m putting in five bucks.” “I’m putting in ten.” … During that time, I was in a daze, like a walking corpse. I could only escape by staying at my mother’s bedside. Perhaps my condition was too haggard; even without accessing the internet, My mother sensed something was wrong. Sighing, she talked to me about my past with Arthur. Young love is always the purest. In high school, Arthur liked me but was too insecure to confess. He only followed me day after day, escorting me home. Until the day I was targeted by a few thugs. To protect me, Arthur had three ribs broken. Yet he gritted his teeth, shielding me tightly beneath him. Afterward, naturally, I fell in love with him. At that time, Arthur hadn’t been recognized by the Vance family yet. He was still that wild kid living with his grandmother, never having enough to eat or wear. It was my mother who kept helping him out. Even his tuition was paid by my mother. But now, my mother’s past kindness had become a sharp knife aimed at her. She didn’t know what her daughter was currently facing. I looked at my mother’s increasingly haggard face. Thinking, let it be. At the very least, I still have my mother. At the very least, I am not completely left with nothing. But fate loves to play tricks on the unfortunate. 5 When I received my mother’s critical condition notice, I rushed to the hospital like a madwoman. Only to be forcefully cornered at my doorstep by Mia’s fans. They doxxed me and found my home address. Righteously confronting me. I couldn’t break free from the crowd, my eyes red with anxiety. I could only keep explaining the truth of the matter. But no one believed me. “Hilarious, still daydreaming here, how pathetic are you?” “Weren’t you arrogant when you slandered my goddess as a mistress? Who are you crying for now?” During the argument, someone got angry and shoved me hard: “So shameless, hurry up and apologize!” I stumbled and fell awkwardly to the ground. I heard someone snicker. Enduring the stinging pain in my knees, I finally compromised. Like a marionette, I kept apologizing to the cameras. “I was being cheap, I was delusional.” “I’m sorry to Mia, it’s all my fault.” “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” That group of self-righteous fans, acting like they had won a victorious battle, laughingly let me go. “Shouldn’t you have done this earlier?” But by the time I rushed to the hospital, it was too late. For a moment, I thought I was having a very long dream. When the dream woke up, I was still the little girl sleeping in my mother’s arms. I hadn’t met Arthur yet, hadn’t sunk to the point of being trampled upon. But reality dealt me a fatal blow. I chose the wrong person, and I didn’t even get to see my mother one last time.

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I slept with Arthur for six years. He was always incredibly dismissive when replying to my messages. Just one-word answers: “Mm,” “Oh,” “Ah.” His friends laughed at me: “Arthur just has too much pride to let his guard down. If you’re tired of it, just stop chasing him.” Arthur shot a cold look at the guy: “You talk too much.” In everyone’s eyes, I had been a one-sided simp for Arthur for six years. I interrupted them, smiling: “Mm, I’m done chasing.” Anyway, I’ve had enough sex to last a lifetime. My family issued an ultimatum: if I couldn’t lock him down, I had to obediently go on blind dates. 1 I set up a breakup hookup with Arthur. While I was getting dressed, he asked me, “When you said you were tired and done chasing the other day, you were joking, right?” He lit a post-coital cigarette. “Chloe, you know your family background isn’t good enough to marry into the Sterling family.” “Mm.” “Also, we’re out of condoms. Remember to buy some next time.” I smiled: “Arthur, you didn’t actually read the message I sent you, did you?” He paused and picked up his phone to check. Makes sense. No matter what I sent him, he’d only reply with irrelevant grunts. I used to throw tantrums over this, but he just said, “If you really had an emergency, you’d call me.” I never called him once. In his eyes, my affairs were probably never an emergency. Arthur put down his phone, the corner of his lips curling up: “What’s this mean? A breakup hookup?” I finished putting on my shoes, fiddling with my phone while talking to him: “It’s not really a breakup, considering we never had an official title.” But Arthur’s technique was definitely top-tier. And he lasted long. For those reasons alone, it wasn’t a total loss. I showed him my phone screen: “All chat records have been deleted. You can rest easy, Mr. Sterling.” Arthur remained expressionless: “I’ve never publicly acknowledged a girlfriend. Chloe, honestly, you were just a hair’s breadth away.” “Because I don’t like women who throw tantrums.” “Oh. Then I’m honored, and also regretful.” 2 During work hours. I was waiting for the elevator when my mom suddenly called. “Honey, find some time to come home for a blind date.” The elevator doors opened, and I stepped inside. I looked up and found Arthur standing there in a sharp suit. My mom urged me on the phone: “This guy is tall, his last name is Hayes, he’s over six-foot-two, and he’s handsome. Totally your type.” The elevator was small, and my mom’s voice echoed inside. Arthur said nothing, only asking, “Which floor?” “16, thanks.” I turned down the volume on my phone. “I know, Mom. How about the day after tomorrow? I have a day off, I can come home.” Only then did my mom hang up. There was a burning gaze directed at my back. Arthur spoke up: “Attorney Davis, the M&A proposal your team submitted has flaws. Come to my office later to fix it.” I nodded respectfully: “Yes, Mr. Sterling.” The Sterling Corporation was a massive empire, employing a huge legal team. I was one of them. That’s also how I met Arthur. He didn’t like people knowing about our relationship. At first, I didn’t get it. But I was always respectful, calling him “Mr. Sterling” and never crossing the line. Later, I understood what he meant. We just slept together. Talking in bed was enough. 3 Arthur’s office. When I walked in, his back was to me, revealing a vibrant flash of red behind him. A woman had him pinned against the desk, kissing him breathlessly. Arthur was wearing a dress shirt that clung to his back muscles, outlining his perfect physique. He really was a catch. Hot, wild. But mostly, he was a massive scumbag. He cut ties cleanly and didn’t cause trouble. He could dump you one second and find another woman to replace you the next. I took a half-step back and knocked loudly on the door: “Mr. Sterling.” Arthur turned his head and released the woman in his arms. She smoothed her hair and straightened her clothes. She gave me a look, picked up a newly bought luxury item from the desk, and left. Arthur adjusted his tie and lit a cigarette. “I can only smoke when you come in. With anyone else, I can’t even touch a cigarette; gotta maintain the image.” I nodded: “That is your prerogative, Mr. Sterling.” He asked casually: “Did you see the woman just now?” “…” “Don’t play dumb. That was someone my stepmother forced on me. She’s nothing special, not as good as you.” “If you hadn’t thrown a tantrum and insisted on breaking up, I wouldn’t have even given her the time of day.” I didn’t want to talk about this with him. So I placed the proposal on the desk. “Mr. Sterling, the proposal you asked for.” He had clearly approved this exact proposal last week. Now, he didn’t even glance at it. “This proposal won’t work. Rewrite it.” “My team and I will discuss it again and deliver a version that satisfies you.” “Report back to me the day after tomorrow.” I froze, nodding helplessly: “Alright, whatever you say.” Arthur smiled: “There’s a dinner tonight. Will you accompany me?” “Is it a formal business dinner?” I couldn’t help but ask. If it was just his buddies, I could easily decline. Arthur shook his head: “Relax, it’s business. After all, you were the one who ended things between us.” 4 It was indeed business. A high-society banquet. I wore the expensive gown Arthur provided, holding a wine glass, feeling nothing but boredom. Because of Arthur, I had to postpone the blind date. My mom was a bit unhappy. I’m 28 this year. She isn’t forcing me to get married, but she at least wants to see me date someone. I had seen photos of the men she introduced. They were either rich or handsome. My gaze drifted into the distance. Arthur was in a sharp suit, his narrow waist encased within it, long legs extending below. It was true. In terms of looks, none of those men could compare to Arthur. Once, I had even fantasized about Arthur actually caring for me. He took me to various cocktail parties, introducing me to his business contacts. When people asked who I was. Arthur would only say: “A new lawyer at the firm, brought her along to broaden her horizons.” I threw a tantrum. “Arthur, aren’t we together? Why don’t you tell them I’m your girlfriend!” He looked at me with a childish expression: “Chloe, I never publicly acknowledge any girlfriends.” “But we’ve already—” “It was mutual consent. Don’t tell me you can’t handle a casual arrangement.” “If you can’t handle it, then let’s break up.” A playboy. Talking about a prodigal son returning was a joke. In that moment, I got stubborn and told him: “You’re right, Arthur. It would cost a fortune to hire a male escort of your caliber, wouldn’t it? Why wouldn’t I be able to handle it?” To be fair, my career was skyrocketing, standing out among a sea of interns. My abilities weren’t weak. But without Arthur pulling strings behind the scenes, I would be nothing. Arthur said: “Keep an open mind; it’s good for both of us.” Later, I had an epiphany: he was right. 5 My view of Arthur was blocked. A familiar face walked toward me. “Attorney Davis, long time no see.” I clinked glasses with him: “Mr. Hayes.” Julian Hayes had a smile as warm as a spring breeze. “Last time at the conference, you debated the entire room and left my best lawyer speechless. It was very memorable.” “You flatter me, Mr. Hayes.” He didn’t beat around the bush: “Attorney Davis, I’m interested in poaching you for Hayes Corp. You name the salary. I’ll give you a private office and a top-tier team.” I politely declined, saying I had no intention of jumping ship. After all, I had just made a name for myself in my current environment. Changing environments meant jumping into the unknown. Julian: “What, am I less charming than Arthur? Can’t I win your favor?” I looked him up and down. Younger than Arthur, tall, and in great shape. A man like this was actually a great catch. “Mr. Hayes, it’s a bit inappropriate to poach my people right in front of me, isn’t it?” Arthur pushed through the crowd and stood beside me. Julian said: “Good talent is hard to find. Is it a crime to appreciate a good lawyer?” Arthur smiled: “You have a good eye, Mr. Hayes. My people are, naturally, the best.” … The elevator was going up. It was just Arthur and me. He asked out of the blue: “Got your eye on Julian?” I shook my head: “I wouldn’t dare.” “You checked him out from head to toe. Did you think I wouldn’t notice?” The elevator doors opened; it was Arthur’s floor. He suddenly pressed the ‘close door’ button. He pinned me against the elevator doors. His large hand slid up my waist. I said calmly: “Arthur, wasn’t one breakup hookup enough? Want another one?” He froze. He removed his hand from my body, snagging the business card Julian had given me in the process. “Fuck, Chloe, weren’t you going on a blind date? And you’re still flirting with Julian?” I helplessly waved my hand: “Didn’t you ruin the blind date?” Silence fell for a moment. Arthur walked out of the elevator with a dark expression.

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The bouquet didn’t just land in my hands; it collided with my chest, a soft, fragrant thud amidst the chaos of the reception. Every pair of eyes in the ballroom pivoted to Gary. It was a reflex, a collective expectation built over the eight years we’d been together. The chanting started almost immediately, fueled by champagne and sentimentality. “Marry her! Marry her!” “You’re up, buddy! Put a ring on it!” The crowd surged, pushing Gary toward me. I stood there, clutching the white roses, my face flushing with a heat that felt like hope. I waited for the smile, the drop to one knee, the words I’m finally ready. Instead, Gary reached out. His expression was terrifyingly calm as he plucked the bouquet from my grip. He turned and handed it to the bridesmaid standing next to him. “She caught it first,” he said, his voice smooth, reasonable, and loud enough to silence the front row. He turned back to me, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “Be a good girl. We’ll get the next one.” The spotlight swung away, chasing the flowers. I watched the bridesmaid—a twenty-two-year-old girl named Paige—giggle, feigning shock and shyness. I forced a smile. It felt like cracked plaster on my face. Gary didn’t know there wouldn’t be a next time. My wedding was next week. … Becca’s face went dark instantly. She looked ready to commit a felony. I caught her wrist just as she raised her hand. She whipped around, her eyes rimmed with red, tears threatening to spill. “That bitch did it on purpose, Nora! I told every single bridesmaid to back off. That bouquet was meant for you…” “Becca,” I whispered, squeezing her hand. “The wedding isn’t over. Don’t ruin your night.” The room’s attention had already drifted. They were looking at Paige, the girl holding my flowers. She cradled them like a prize, casting a dewy-eyed glance at Gary, who had already retreated to the safety of the sidelines. The MC, a seasoned pro, cracked a few jokes to salvage the awkwardness, and the music swelled. Becca let out a frustrated huff, glaring daggers at Gary’s back before turning to finish her duties. For the rest of the reception, I sat at the head table, the maid of honor exposed to a hundred pitying glances. Gary sat three tables away with his finance buddies, laughing, a drink in hand. Paige sat next to him. She wasn’t supposed to be a bridesmaid. The groom had added a groomsman last minute, and Gary had suggested Paige—his executive assistant—fill the slot. He took her everywhere lately. “Mentorship,” he called it. Apparently, that mentorship extended to my best friend’s wedding. During the toasts, Becca dragged her new husband over to our table. She hugged me so hard I could barely breathe, whispering venomously into my ear: “That girl has been throwing herself at Gary for six months. I had someone look into her. She’s a shark, Nora. And Gary…” “Becca,” I rubbed her back, cutting her off. “You are the most beautiful bride I have ever seen. Let’s focus on that.” She gritted her teeth but nodded. When the venue finally cleared out, Gary strolled over. “Ready to head back?” He reached for my purse naturally, his other arm moving to drape over my shoulders. I stepped sideways, letting his arm fall through empty air. “You’ve been drinking. I called an Uber.” He didn’t seem to notice the rejection. “Smart. Okay.” The car ride was quiet. The city lights blurred against the window, mirroring the exhaustion in my reflection. My makeup was perfect, but my eyes looked dead. “About earlier,” Gary said, breaking the silence. “Paige technically touched the flowers first. She’s young, probably just wanted to feel part of the magic.” He paused. “Don’t overthink it.” I stared at the passing neon signs. “I’m not.” He waited, then finally looked up from his phone. He scooted closer. “You’re mad.” “We said ‘next time,’ right?” His fingers brushed the nape of my neck, a familiar, possessive gesture he used to soothe me like a temperamental pet. “Our wedding is going to blow Becca’s out of the water. You can have as many bouquets as you want, okay?” A familiar acid rose in my throat. It was always like this. A gentle tone, a vague promise of “someday,” and the expectation that I would just… settle. “Gary,” I said, watching his reflection in the dark glass. “Yeah?” “Becca and I made a pact when we were seven,” I said, my voice steady. “Whoever got married first, the other one had to get married within a week. We were supposed to wear the dresses we made for each other. We were supposed to witness it together.” The air in the car went still. His hand stopped moving on my neck. “You’re holding onto a childhood game?” He chuckled, but the sound lacked warmth. His hand resumed its motion, lazily now. “Plans change, Nora. Venues, vendors, logistics—that stuff takes a year to prep. We’ll plan it properly. Why the rush?” He didn’t explain why he couldn’t just say I’ll marry you in front of our friends. He just skipped straight to the logistics of a hypothetical event. I remembered a month ago, when Becca dragged me to the fitting room to show me the bridesmaid dress she’d designed. Pale champagne silk with tiny pearls at the waist. Becca had cried when I put it on. “You look stunning, Nora. I made this for you. Just wait until I design your wedding dress. It’s going to be a masterpiece.” Gary had been there, buried in his emails. He’d glanced up for half a second. “Nice,” he’d said, before diving back into his phone. At the time, I felt happy for Becca, but a cold wind had blown through the center of my chest. Eight years, and I was still just the audience. The car pulled up to our building. Gary unbuckled. He leaned in, assuming the fight was over, expecting a kiss. I put my hand on his chest, stopping him. He froze. “I’m tired, Gary.” He stared at me for a beat, then patted my shoulder. “Being a maid of honor is exhausting. Go get some sleep. Paige just texted—she can’t get a ride from the venue. It’s not safe for her to be alone out there. I’m going to loop back and drop her off.” “Okay,” I said. He didn’t move. He was waiting for the script. He was waiting for me to say, Be careful, or to whine, Do you have to? Instead, I opened the door and got out. I walked into the lobby without looking back. Upstairs, I collapsed onto the sofa. It took me an hour to summon the energy to walk down the hall. I paused outside the “Spare Room.” When we bought this place four years ago, it was the “Nursery.” Now, it was a storage unit for dead dreams. I went inside. From the dusty crib, I pulled out a heavy box. Handwritten letters, ticket stubs, photo booth strips—the archaeology of a relationship. At the bottom was a photo from college graduation. He was giving me a piggyback ride under a cherry blossom tree. On the back, in his messy scrawl: I’ve got your back forever. Promise. The dim light of the living room made the ink look gray. A silent mockery. I heard his car pull into the garage below. I didn’t move. I listened to the elevator, the key in the lock, the muffled footsteps. “Still up?” He stood in the doorway. I didn’t turn around. I was kneeling on the floor. “Yeah.” “Cleaning house?” He asked, his tone light. “Getting nostalgic?” “Did you get her home?” I asked quietly. He paused. “Yeah. She lives way out in Queens. Hard to get a cab.” “Okay.” I placed the photo back in the box and closed the lid. “Come on, let’s go to bed,” he said, reaching out a hand to help me up. I stood up on my own, ignoring his hand. My legs were numb. I stumbled slightly. “Gary.” “Hmm?” He stopped halfway to the bedroom. “I want to break up.” He froze, then laughed. He loosened his tie, shaking his head. “Still on about the bouquet? Don’t be petty, Nora.” He used that tone again—the one for a tantrum-throwing toddler. “Fine. I’ll buy you a massive arrangement tomorrow. Five hundred roses. Happy? Now go wash your face, I have a board meeting at 8 a.m.” He turned his back on me and walked toward the bathroom. “I’m getting married,” I said to his back. “In less than a week.” His hand, reaching for the bathroom door handle, stopped. Slowly, he turned around. The mask of tolerant amusement finally slipped. “Nora, stop it.” He rubbed his temples. “Marriage is a legal contract, not something you do to win an argument.” “October 28th,” I said. “The venue is booked. The dress is ready.” He let out a cold, sharp laugh. “Did Becca put you up to this? Just because she rushed into things doesn’t mean the whole world has to be impulsive.” “Gary,” I cut him off. “The invitations go out tomorrow.” A muscle in his jaw jumped. “Do you think this works on me? This just makes you look childish, Nora. I am in the middle of the most important quarter of my career. I don’t have time for your drama to derail my focus.” “You just want to be a bride that badly?” His words hit like stones. Once, they would have made me panic, made me apologize, made me beg for him to understand. Now? I felt nothing but a vast, cool silence. His attention had always been the most expensive thing on the menu. He saved it for investors. He saved it for his “promising” assistant. The late-night texts, the birthday surprises, the “business trips” that included spa days… There was never any budget left for me. I looked him in the eye and nodded. “Yeah. All my friends are married. I want to have a family.” I walked past him into the bedroom. On the nightstand sat a bridal magazine from six months ago. The headline screamed: The 3-Month Countdown: A Bride’s Guide. I had bought it excitedly. He had seen it, said “What’s the rush?” and I had never opened it again. Lying in the dark, my phone buzzed. A text from Becca. You up? I can’t sleep. I’m so angry thinking about that girl’s face. What is WRONG with Gary? What was wrong? Nothing. Or everything. Some flowers just don’t bloom, no matter how long you water them. Becca typed again: Remember our pact? One week apart. Who knew your guy would be such a block of wood? You catch the bouquet and he still doesn’t get it? It’s been eight years, not eight weeks! Whatever. I give you a pass this time. You can break the pact. My fingers hovered over the screen. I typed: Babe, when have I ever broken a promise to you? Gary moved into the corporate apartment near his office the next day. He claimed my “wedding hysteria” was suffocating him and he needed peace to work. Good. It gave me the space to breathe. I handled everything in silence. I listed our condo—the one we bought together but was solely in my name because his credit was tied up in the business back then—on a real estate app. The afternoon I handed the keys to the agent, I was clearing out the last of the junk mail when I found a project file Gary needed. I hesitated, then decided to drop it off. The door to his corporate apartment was closed, but I could hear laughter inside. I raised my hand to knock, but a familiar female voice floated through the wood. “Gary, stop, I feel terrible! I didn’t mean to catch the bouquet. Now everyone in the Slack channel is making jokes. They’re asking if we’re…” “You have to clarify it in the group chat, or I’ll never be able to show my face in the breakroom again!” My hand froze in mid-air. Before Gary could answer, one of his frat-boy business partners laughed. “Come on, Paige. Do you really want him to clarify it, or are you fishing to hear him say something else?” Laughter followed. Flirty, knowing laughter. “Stop teasing her,” Gary’s voice cut in. It was warm. Indulgent. “Don’t worry about it, Paige. People talk. They’ll forget in a week.” They’ll forget in a week. The memory hit me like a physical blow. Two years ago, I went to his office to drop off lunch. He had hugged me, forgetting where we were. A junior analyst saw us. Within an hour, Gary had sent a company-wide memo regarding “professional conduct” and clarifying that visitors should not be mistaken for partners. He told everyone not to misunderstand. I had understood then. I stopped visiting. My fingertips went cold. He didn’t hate office romance. He hated being seen with me. A woman who offered no strategic value to his empire. Another voice inside the apartment spoke up. “Speaking of… Gary, how did you handle the Nora situation? I actually got a digital invite this morning. Is she serious?” Silence. Then Gary chuckled. It was a dry, hollow sound. “Let her have her moment. I spoil her too much usually. She needs to learn that throwing a tantrum doesn’t get results.” “Damn,” someone laughed. “So you’re really not going?” Gary didn’t answer, which was answer enough. Then, a hesitant voice: “Gary, are you sure about playing chicken? You guys have been together forever. We’ve all been waiting for that wedding…” The voice dropped lower. “Unless… you have other plans? Maybe… a certain Ms. Paige?” “Mr. Reynolds!” Paige squealed, her voice dripping with artificial shock. “Don’t make jokes like that! Gary knows… he knows what he’s doing.” She said the last part softly, intimately. Gary didn’t correct them. A low ripple of laughter went through the room. “Honestly,” another guy said, “Gary’s a saint. Eight years? I would have bailed ages ago. Nora’s great, but what does she actually bring to the table? Paige here is sharp, she’s in the trenches with us…” “Oh, stop it!” Paige giggled. The motion-sensor light in the hallway clicked off, plunging me into darkness. I placed the file on the doormat and nudged it until it slid halfway under the door. Then I turned around and walked away.

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Kate cried. Not the happy kind of crying. When I handed her the pregnancy test, she froze for a solid three seconds. Then the tears just started falling. “Kate?” She didn’t say a word. She just grabbed a tissue, wiped her eyes, and turned her back to me. I thought she was overwhelmed with joy for me. Mark and I had been married for eight years. We’d been trying for a baby forever. Finally, it had happened. But the way she was crying felt wrong. Her hands were shaking. When she left, she stood in the doorway for a long time, her lips parting as if to speak, but she swallowed the words and walked away. The next day, she came back. She was holding a manila envelope. Inside was a divorce settlement agreement. Blank. “Sarah,” she looked at me, her eyes rimmed with red. “This baby… I need you to think really hard before you keep it.” 1. I thought my sister had lost her mind. “Kate, what the hell is this?” I shoved the envelope back across the coffee table. A blank divorce agreement. Why would she bring this into my house? “You and Mark are good, right?” She didn’t answer my question. She just countered with one of her own. “Of course we’re good.” “Is he working late a lot recently?” “Yeah. He just got promoted to Project Director. The hours come with the territory.” “How late?” “Eleven, midnight. Sometimes later.” “When he’s working late, and you call him, does he answer?” I paused. “Sometimes he doesn’t. The signal is trash in his office garage. He told me.” Kate set her coffee mug down. Her hand was still trembling. “Sarah… have you ever checked his phone?” “Checked his phone?” I actually laughed. “Kate, I’m not that kind of wife. Marriage is about trust—” “Check it.” She cut me off. Her voice was quiet, but it had the weight of iron. “Just once. Tonight. Wait until he’s asleep, and just look.” I studied her face. She wasn’t joking. There were deep purple bruises of exhaustion under her eyes, and her lips were chapped, like she hadn’t slept in days. “Kate, what is going on? Can you just tell me?” She opened her mouth. Then closed it. “I can’t just tell you,” she said. “Because you won’t believe me. You’ll just think I’m trying to drive a wedge between you.” “You’re my sister—” “I’m your sister, which is exactly why you won’t believe it.” She stood up. “You’ll think I’m jealous because you married well. You’ll think that because I’m divorced, I can’t stand seeing you happy.” That stung. Kate divorced three years ago. Her ex-husband cheated, left her high and dry, and she’s been raising her daughter alone ever since. “Kate, I have never thought that—” “I know.” She picked up her purse. “That’s why I’m not telling you. You have to see it for yourself.” She walked to the door and stopped. “Sarah.” “Yeah?” “No matter what you find, remember one thing—you are not alone.” The door clicked shut. I stood in the living room, still clutching that manila envelope. It was light. But suddenly, it felt like it weighed a thousand pounds. Mark came home late that night. Eleven-forty. He brought a gust of cold Chicago wind in with him. He saw me still sitting on the couch and offered a tired smile. “Still up?” “Waiting for you.” “Babe, don’t be silly. You’re pregnant. You need your rest.” He placed his phone on the entryway console table—his habit. Phone down, shoes off. I used to think it was discipline—disconnecting from work to be present with me. Tonight, I stared at that phone and it looked less like a device and more like a locked box. He went to shower. The sound of water running filled the apartment. I sat on the couch, staring at the console table. Kate’s voice echoed in my ear: Check it. Just once. I didn’t move. The water stopped. He came out, toweling off his hair, and saw me still sitting there. “What’s wrong? You look zoned out.” “Nothing.” “Come to bed. I’ll drive you to your appointment tomorrow.” “Okay.” I followed him into the bedroom. Lay down. Lights out. His breathing evened out quickly. I lay there, eyes wide open, staring at the dark ceiling. The phone was in the hallway. His breathing was heavy, rhythmic. I didn’t move. Not because I was scared. But because I didn’t want to know. If that box was empty, I was paranoid for nothing. If it wasn’t— I closed my eyes. But sleep wouldn’t come. 2:00 AM. I got up to use the bathroom. Passing the hallway console, I stopped. The phone sat there, face down. I picked it up. The passcode was my birthday. He’d never changed it. He loves me, I told myself as I punched in the six digits. It unlocked. iMessage. Three pinned conversations. First was me. Saved as “Wife.” Second was his mom. Saved as “Mom.” Third— The contact name was just an emoji. A house. No name. Just a little house. I tapped it. The latest message was from tonight, 9:17 PM. A photo. It was a little boy, maybe two years old, wearing dinosaur pajamas, lying on a bed, grinning. Below it, a caption: Son is waiting for you. He refuses to sleep. 2. I put the phone back on the console. Face down, exactly how it was. I went back to the bedroom and lay down. Mark rolled over, draping a heavy arm across my waist. “Mmm… you cold?” “No.” His hand was warm. I stared at the ceiling in the dark, frozen. That little boy in the dinosaur pajamas. Big eyes. Single eyelids. Mark has single eyelids. I didn’t sleep all night. The next morning, Mark got up and made breakfast. Scrambled eggs and toast. He bustled around the kitchen in his apron, looking back to smile at me. “Want some bacon? Gotta keep the protein up for the baby.” “Sure.” I sat at the dining table, watching his back. I had watched this back for eight years. Eight years ago, he was making forty grand a year, and I was making sixty. Our first apartment was a fourth-floor walk-up with no AC. Every day after work, he’d carry the groceries up the stairs for me, then run back down to park the car. Five trips sometimes. Later, when we bought a place, we didn’t have enough for the down payment. I borrowed eight grand from my mom, five from a college friend, and drained my entire 401k savings. He said, “Sarah, when I make it big, I’ll pay you back double.” Then he switched jobs. Salary bumped up. Switched again. Another bump. From forty grand to eighty, to one-fifty, to two hundred… now he was pulling in nearly four hundred thousand. When the money started coming in, he said, “Don’t worry about the bills anymore. I’ll handle the finances.” I thought he was taking care of me. He took over the household accounts. He transferred me a set allowance for groceries and bills every month, and told me he was investing the rest. “Once we save enough, we’ll get a real house. Something in the suburbs.” I believed him. For eight years, I managed the household, paid the mortgage, and sent his mother money every month. He said the rest was in savings. In “growth funds.” I never asked to see the numbers. Because I trusted him. I thought about last winter. November. Our anniversary. I took a half-day off work. Went to the market at 3 PM. Bought the expensive short ribs he loves, fresh herbs, a bottle of wine. I bought flowers, too. I rarely bought flowers—waste of money—but seven years felt like a milestone. By six, dinner was ready. Four courses. The flowers were in a water glass because I didn’t own a vase. Seven o’clock. He wasn’t home. Eight o’clock. I called. Straight to voicemail. Nine o’clock. A text: Meeting ran late. Don’t wait up. I took the flowers out of the glass. I needed the glass to drink water. He came home at eleven. “Did you eat?” “Yeah, we ordered takeout at the office.” The food on the table was cold. Congealed fat settled on top of the ribs. “It’s fine,” I said. “I’ll put it in Tupperware.” He didn’t notice the flowers. He didn’t remember what day it was. I heated up the ribs and ate them alone at the counter. Now I wonder—when he didn’t answer at 9 PM that night… where was he? Who was he with? Was a toddler in dinosaur pajamas calling him Daddy? Breakfast landed in front of me. Scrambled eggs, bacon, perfectly buttered toast. “Eat up while it’s hot.” He sat opposite me, beaming. I looked down at the plate. “Mark.” “Yeah?” “What time did you get in last night?” “Eleven-ish? I told you, we’re pushing hard on this project launch.” “Right.” I took a bite of toast. It felt like dry wall in my throat. He got up to clean the kitchen. I heard the faucet running. When I finished, I rinsed my plate. He was putting on his coat, checking his watch. “Gonna be late again tonight, babe. Don’t wait up.” “Okay.” The door closed. I sat back on the couch. I pulled out my phone and texted Kate. Kate, you were right. She replied in three seconds. Like she had been staring at the screen. What did you see? I didn’t reply. I didn’t know how to type it out. I sat there for a long time. Then I got up and gathered his laundry from last night. As I was checking the pockets of his jacket, a receipt fell out. Nordstrom, Kids Department. Total: $128.00. Item: Patagonia Fleece, Blue, Size 4T. Size 4T. That fits a two or three-year-old. 3. Kate came over. This time, she didn’t beat around the bush. She brought a clear plastic binder packed thick with documents. “This is everything I’ve collected over the last six months.” She dropped the binder on the coffee table. I didn’t touch it yet. “Six months?” “Yes. Six months ago, I saw his car in the parking garage at the mall. There was a woman in the passenger seat. And a car seat in the back.” I stared at her. “You saw that, and you didn’t tell me?” “I wasn’t sure—” “You weren’t sure, so you investigated him for half a year while I played house?” She didn’t speak. “Kate,” I said her name sharply. “Six months. You let me live a lie for six months.” Tears spilled onto her cheeks. “I was scared you couldn’t handle it. You had just found out about the fibroids, you hadn’t even had the surgery yet—” “So you decided for me?” “No—” “How are you any different from him?” I asked. It was cruel. I knew it was. She wasn’t Mark. But in that moment, the betrayal felt universal. Six months. I slept in the same bed as that man, cooked his meals, washed his clothes, and got pregnant with his child—while my sister watched me play the fool. Kate looked down, crying silently. I sat opposite her, dry-eyed. “Give me the binder.” She slid it across. I opened it. Page one: A photo. Grainy, taken from a distance in a parking lot. Mark’s Tesla. A woman with long hair in the front seat. The silhouette of a car seat in the back. Page two: An address. The Aston Apartments, East Side. Unit 1402. “I followed him,” Kate said. “Twice. Both times he went there. Once he stayed the whole night. Once was a Lesleyday afternoon, stayed for four hours.” Page three: Property records. Unit 1402 Owner: Emily Lesley. Date of Purchase: Two years and three months ago. “Your husband paid for it,” Kate said. “But her name is on the deed.” I flipped the page. Bank transfer screenshots. Mark Smith -> Emily Lesley. 8th of every month. $3,000. Memo: Monthly. Six screenshots. Six months. Three grand times six is eighteen thousand. That’s just the six months Kate tracked. What if it’s been two years? Three thousand times twenty-four… Seventy-two thousand dollars. I did a quick mental calculation of my household budget. Mark transferred me $800 a month for groceries. He sent his mom $400. I paid the mortgage, $1,800 a month. My salary was decent, but after the mortgage and bills, I was usually in the red. I dipped into my own savings, my yearly bonus, my overtime pay to cover the gap. And he was sending that woman three thousand dollars a month. I closed the binder. “Kate.” “Yeah.” “Thank you for getting this.” “Sarah—” “But I don’t want to talk about you hiding this right now.” She opened her mouth to speak. “We’ll talk about that after I deal with Mark.” I picked up the binder and stood up. “You should go, Kate. He’ll be home by seven.” Kate lingered at the door. “If you need anything, call me.” “I will.” The door closed. I sat alone in the dimming living room. The water glass she hadn’t touched was still on the table. Outside, the sky turned purple, then black. There was leftover rice in the fridge. I walked into the kitchen, grabbed two eggs. Made fried rice. Ate it alone. Washed the bowl. Wiped the table. Then I sat on the couch and waited for Mark. 7:20 PM. The lock clicked. “Babe, I’m home! Early today.” He beamed as he kicked off his shoes. “Oh, you cooked? Smells good.” “Fried rice. Yours is in the pan.” “Awesome.” He headed for the kitchen. I watched his back. That back I’d looked at for eight years. For the first time, it looked like a stranger’s. 4. For the next three days, I did nothing. I went to work. Came home. Cooked dinner. Talked to Mark. But I started watching his phone. Details I used to ignore now pricked like needles. He always went to the balcony to take calls. His auto-lock settings changed from 30 seconds to immediate. He took his phone into the bathroom when he showered—he never used to do that. On the third night, he worked late again. Midnight. When he crawled into bed, I smelled detergent on him. Not our detergent. We use Tide. He smelled like lavender Downy. “Working this late?” “Yeah, grinding on the proposal.” “You work so hard.” “As long as you appreciate it, babe.” He kissed my forehead. The smell of lavender suffocated me. I didn’t flinch. I didn’t speak. On the fourth day, I called in sick. I drove to The Aston. It’s a nice complex. Forty minutes from our place. Modern, good landscaping. The kind of place young professionals live. Unit 1402. I stood outside looking up. The blinds on the 14th floor were pink. Clothes were drying on the balcony—a man’s white dress shirt, a woman’s sundress, and tiny, colorful children’s clothes. It looked like a home. Another home. I sat in the bakery across the street for two hours. At 10:30, a woman came out pushing a stroller. Long hair, beige trench coat, sunglasses. A little boy sat in the stroller. Dinosaur hat. The kid from the photo. She pushed him to the small park next to the complex. Sat on a bench. The kid toddled around, tripped, and started wailing. She scooped him up, bounced him twice. He stopped crying and wrapped his arms around her neck. She pulled out her phone and snapped a picture. I knew exactly who was receiving that picture. At noon, I got back in my car. I sat there for a long time. Then I opened Mark’s banking app—the password was his mom’s birthday. He made me memorize it years ago when he set it up. He didn’t know I still remembered it. Credit card statements. I scrolled down, line by line. Cartier: $12,000. Date: Three months ago. I never received any jewelry. Luxury Post-Partum Center: $8,500. Date: Two years ago, May. Two years ago in May. I was on a business trip. Gone for two weeks in Seattle. Mark texted me: Take care of yourself, wifey. Miss you. He was spending that month helping another woman recover from birth. Gymboree: Annual Fee $2,200. Payer: Mark Smith. Kindred Photography: $600. Carter’s: Multiple charges. I closed the app. My hands were on the steering wheel. They were shaking uncontrollably. I took a deep breath. I pulled out my phone. I looked at the photos from Kate’s binder. Kate only tracked six months of transfers. But the banking app went back three years. Three years. $3,000 a month to Emily Lesley. That’s $108,000 just in cash transfers. Plus the jewelry, the luxury care center, the preschool, the clothes, the daily expenses. I did the math. Over $250,000. And my savings for the last three years? I opened my own banking app. Balance: $4,217.65. Eight years of marriage. That was all I had. I bought a coffee at the bakery. Held it in my hands. Didn’t drink it. Sat until it was cold. Then I dumped it in the trash and drove home. On the way, I made a call. “Kate.” “Sarah? What’s wrong?” “Page three. The condo at The Aston. Did you pull the full deed history?” “I did. 900 square feet. Bought March 2022. All cash. Purchase price 320,000. He bought her a condo in cash.” “Sarah—” “Plus the monthly transfers and expenses. Three years. He’s spent at least half a million dollars on them.” Kate stayed silent. “I’ve been married eight years. I have four thousand dollars.” “Sarah, listen to me—” “Kate, does your file have her ID info?” “Yes. Emily Lesley. Born 1994. She went to the same college as Mark.” College alum. Mark told me he never dated anyone seriously in college. “The kid. Date of birth?” “January 2023.” January 2023. I counted back. Conception would have been around April 2022. April 2022. That month, Mark and I were actively trying. I was taking prenatal vitamins. He told me: Don’t stress, babe. Let nature take its course. Nature took its course. We tried for two years. Nothing. She got pregnant. “Kate.” “Yeah.” “There’s something I don’t get.” “What?” “I tried for two years. We went to the fertility clinic. The doctor said I was fine. He said Mark was fine. But it never happened.” On the other end of the line, the silence stretched out. Heavy. “When you get home,” Kate said, her voice dropping to a whisper, “go check the nightstand. Or wherever you keep your water.” 5. I didn’t go straight to the water. Kate’s implication was too dark. I needed to confirm it myself. That night, Mark worked late again. Eleven PM. I went into his home office. Third drawer down. He always said it was for old tax documents and warranties. I dug for five minutes. Inside an envelope labeled “Receipts,” tucked way in the back, I found a blister pack. Small white pills. Aluminum foil backing. I held it under the desk lamp. Ethinyl Estradiol / Drospirenone. Birth control pills. More than half the pack was gone. Seventeen pills missing. These weren’t mine. I wasn’t on the pill. This pack was in his desk. And every day, the water I drank… he poured it. Every morning, he woke up before me, filled a glass of water, and set it on my nightstand. “Babe, hydrate before you get up.” He’d been doing it for two years. I thought he was thoughtful. I sat in his office chair, holding that blister pack. I stared at it for a long time. I didn’t cry. I just felt cold. Bone-deep cold. I took out my phone and snapped a photo. Then I put the pills back exactly where they were. Envelope back. Drawer closed. I went to the bathroom. Turned on the faucet. Let the water run. I scrubbed my face. Looked up at myself in the mirror. Thirty-one years old. Fine lines appearing around my eyes. He said: You work so hard, honey. He said: Get some rest, babe. He said: When we save enough, we’ll get that dream house. He said all of that while crushing a contraceptive pill into my water glass every single morning. Ensuring I stayed barren for two years. Because the woman across town had already given him a son. He didn’t need two. I turned off the tap. Dried my face. Walked out to the living room. I opened my laptop. Opened Excel. Eight years of accounts. I calculated every penny. Mortgage: $1,800 a month. Eight years is $172,800. The first three years I paid it alone. Later he said he’d handle it, but the auto-pay never changed. It still came out of my account. Down payment: My loans and savings, total $60,000. Household: He sent $800, but actual costs were $1,500. I covered the gap. Eight years. That’s nearly $70,000. Support for his parents: $400 a month. Nearly $40,000. My bonuses: Every year, used to pay off debts, cover vacations, buy gifts for his family. Total. I ran the sum three times. $420,000. In eight years, I poured over four hundred grand into this marriage. And in three years, he spent over five hundred grand on her. My eight years. Her three years. I opened Kate’s binder to the property page. The Aston. $320,000. Cash. Our condo? I paid the down payment, and we still owe the bank $200,000. He gave his mistress a paid-off home. He gave me a mortgage. I closed the laptop. Picked up my phone. “Kate.” “I’m here.” “Find me a divorce lawyer. The sharkiest one you know.” “Already did. Mr. Sterling. Tomorrow, 3 PM.” She’d been ready for six months. “Thanks.” “Sarah… are you still mad at me?” “Yes.” “…” “But I’m going to destroy Mark first.”

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The day the poor scholarship student ran for Student Body President, my childhood friend made sure everyone voted for me instead. Even though I wasn’t running. He didn’t do it for me. He did it because he got a sick thrill out of crushing the spirit of the pretty girl on financial aid, calling it a “lesson in reality.” Later, he would hospitalize the guys who bullied that same scholarship student. But then, the boy who had been my shadow since birth—the one who supposedly cared for me—leaned back in his chair, swirling his drink, and announced to the entire room, “Selene isn’t expensive. Fifty for a quickie, five hundred for the night.” I froze. Then, quietly, I transferred all my classes to the morning block to avoid him. On the rainy night my mother’s condition went critical, I swallowed my pride and asked him for money. He waited until his cigarette burned down to the filter before flicking the ash near my hand. “Selene,” he said, his voice void of warmth. “I don’t owe you a damn thing.” After he walked away, the top student in our year stepped out of the shadows and held an umbrella over my head. “Would you be willing to come to London with me?” I nodded. 1 On the first day of the semester, Piper stood at the podium, her cheeks flushed with hope as she delivered her speech for president. But when the votes were projected on the screen, her face went ghost white. There were thirty people in the seminar. Selene received twenty-nine votes. Beside me, Roman Carter watched Piper’s devastation with the focus of a predator. He started a slow, mocking clap. “Surprise, Selene,” he drawled, his voice dripping with faux affection. Piper looked like she was going to be sick. Her eyes filled with tears, shifting to glare at me with pure, unadulterated jealousy. I sighed, a silent exhale that vanished in the room’s tension. The girl who won by a landslide was me. I hadn’t even put my name on the ballot. And the guy next to me? Technically, he was my childhood friend. Realistically? I was the daughter of the help who used to live in his guest house. That dynamic shattered the summer after middle school. My father was driving Mrs. Carter—Roman’s pregnant mother—and my own mother when the car crashed. My mother was the sole survivor, but she never woke up. She’s been in a vegetative state ever since. From that day on, the Carters threw me out. My relationship with Roman curdled into something dark. Even though the police report cited brake failure—an accident—Roman never looked at me the same way again. The rumors at school were vicious. They said I was a jinx. A curse. The girl who killed Mrs. Carter and Roman’s unborn brother. Roman loved watching me take the heat. By some twisted fate, we ended up at the same university, in the same major. On the first day, he had taken my bag with practiced intimacy, whispering in my ear, “Been a while. I missed you.” During introductions, he jerked his chin in my direction. “Selene.” Everyone turned. The sunlight hit my profile, and for a second, it looked like a scene from a romance novel. Then Roman smiled. It was a cruel, jagged thing. “Her dad’s dead. Her mom’s a vegetable.” The room erupted in gasps. People awkwardly looked away, shuffling their feet. The professor eventually forced Roman to sit down. When it was my turn, I just gave my name. Roman was bored out of his mind until Piper showed up. Piper was the scholarship kid with a chip on her shoulder. She hated the Greek system, hated old money, and wasn’t afraid to say it. But when she spoke, her eyes lingered on Roman a little too long. Roman scoffed, winding a lock of my hair around his finger. “Don’t get too close to people with brain damage, Selene.” I had a feeling he was the one who would get close. And honestly? Good. 2 I was right. First, he humiliated Piper in the election. Then, in a bout of ironic courtship, he started working shifts with her at the diner to “experience the struggle.” When guys harassed her, he sent them to the ER. I kept my head down. I studied. I worked three jobs. I did people’s homework for cash. I thought our lives were finally diverging into parallel lines. Then I walked into the lecture hall and heard a recording blasting over the speakers. “Selene, you look desperate for cash. How much are you selling it for?” “Fifty for a quickie, five hundred for the night.” It was my voice. People screamed. Some laughed. Roman stood in the center of the room, looking like a king in his court. “I told you,” he announced, his tone light, conversational. “She’s cheap. Fifty or five hundred.” The room buzzed with noise. Disgusting, predatory looks crawled over my skin. I froze. The audio was doctored. In high school, I did people’s homework. The question had been about essay prices. I had answered honestly. Now, it was being played to the entire student body as a solicitation for sex. Piper threw herself into Roman’s arms, looking scandalized. “Why would you play that, Roman?” He ruffled her hair. “She stole your spot in the competition. She needed to be taken down a peg.” I sat down in silence. I pulled out my phone, found the old transaction logs—labeled distinctly as “Essay Editing” and “Math Tutoring”—and uploaded the screenshots to the class group chat. Then, I logged into the portal and transferred every single class I shared with them. They could play at being adults. They could find their entertainment in destroying people. I couldn’t. I had to pay back the Hale family a thousand dollars every month for my mother’s medical bills. I didn’t have the luxury of time for their games. Seeing no reaction from me, Roman cornered me after my new class. He sat on the desk in front of me, swinging his legs. “I was just helping you drum up business, Selene,” he said, a lazy smile on his lips. “Don’t I get a thank you?” I looked at him. Cruel. Arrogant. Broken. The sunny, polite boy from the estate was dead. He died in that crash, too. And the optimistic, confident Selene died with him. I lowered my eyes. My voice was dry. “Thank you.” His face darkened. His jaw ticked. “Don’t thank me.” Roman found out about the class transfer quickly. He brought Piper into the coffee shop where I worked. Piper “accidentally” tripped, sending a scalding latte all over my apron and arm. The skin turned angry red instantly. She frowned, stepping back. “Do you even know how to serve coffee? You splashed my dress! You couldn’t afford to replace this if you worked here for a hundred years!” I had crouched down to clean up the mess, but I paused. I looked up at her. She was wearing the season’s latest designer gear. Roman’s money, obviously. There was barely a drop on her hem. I stood up. “Call the police, then. The security cameras captured everything.” Including the way she had shoved her hand out to tip the cup. She choked, grabbing Roman’s hand. “Baby, the dress you bought me is ruined.” Roman glanced at her, then patted her head dismissively. “I’ll buy you another one.” Piper smirked. “Let’s go.” She hummed a tune as she linked arms with him, leaving me with a puddle of coffee and a burning arm. I stood in silence for a moment, then grabbed the mop. Later, a delivery driver dropped off a tube of burn cream with a note: Switch your classes back. I threw it in the trash. Two weeks later, final group projects were assigned. Every time I made eye contact with a classmate, they looked away. A girl I had tutored once whispered to me, “Someone told us not to team up with you. If we do, we’re blacklisted.” The professor sighed. “Selene, per the syllabus, groups must be two or three students.” I stared at my laptop screen. A text popped up from Roman. Come back. At that exact moment, a chair scraped against the floor next to me. It was Atlas Hale. The top student. The impossible standard. “Want to be partners?” he asked. 3 I exhaled, a sound I hadn’t realized I was holding in. It seemed like every time I hit a wall, Atlas Hale was there to open a door. The last time was the summer after high school. I was sitting in the parlor of the Hale estate, terrified, waiting to beg his grandfather for a loan. Atlas had walked in first. I had jumped to my feet. He smiled, a gentle expression that reached his eyes. “Don’t be nervous. I’m Atlas. Grandfather is… eccentric.” I knew who he was. Everyone did. National Go champion. Heir to the Hale empire. “I’m Selene,” I managed, clutching the hem of my cheap shirt. He poured me tea. “You’re early. Grandfather was up all night gaming, he won’t be up for a while.” “I can wait,” I whispered. “Play a game with me?” he asked. I blinked. “Go?” He pulled out a board. “Five-in-a-row. I heard you were unbeatable in middle school.” We played all morning. His presence had a grounding effect, calming the storm in my chest. It was the same now. “Can we wait to submit the form?” I asked him quietly. If we didn’t submit it yet, Roman wouldn’t know. If Roman knew, he would go nuclear. Atlas nodded. “Whatever you need.” After a beat, he added, “If you need help with anything else, tell me.” On the deadline day for the project, I got fired from the coffee shop. The manager was vague, mumbling something about “complaints from influential customers.” I stood outside the shop, the rain soaking through my thin jacket. I didn’t know where to go. The rain was silent, but my mind was screaming. I went to the hospital. My mother lay there, still and silent. She had aged so much. The Carters always said Mrs. Carter was going out for a spa day. Why did she take my mother? My phone buzzed. Roman. Come to The Lounge. I’ll give you a grand. I typed back: Transfer it first. The Lounge was an upscale bar near campus. The smell of expensive scotch and designer perfume couldn’t mask the rot underneath. Roman waved me over. “Here.” I sat next to him. The leather was still warm from someone else. I tried to stand, but his hand clamped down on my shoulder. “Why didn’t you come to me?” He leaned in, his lips brushing my ear. “If you don’t come back to my section, who’s going to partner with you?” “Is Professor Zhou going to let you fail?” I said nothing. He bit my earlobe hard. “Selene, why the hell won’t you speak?” “How can you be so calm?” “How can you pretend nothing happened?” “My dad is dead!” “Your mother is a vegetable!” I bit the inside of my cheek until I tasted copper. Piper came back from the restroom and froze when she saw me in her seat. She stormed over, grabbed a drink, and threw it in my face. “Get up! That’s my spot.” I was almost grateful for the interruption. “Okay.” I said one word, blood mixing with the alcohol on my lips. As I stood up, someone tapped Roman on the shoulder. A guy looked at me, confused. “Dude, she’s partnered with Atlas Hale.” 4 There was no time to react. Roman yanked me back down onto the sofa. His hand wrapped around my throat, squeezing. “How did you get to Atlas?” “Did you sleep with him? Was he good?” “Fifty or five hundred, Selene?” I clawed at his arm. Black spots danced in my vision. Blood from my bitten cheek leaked out, dripping onto his hand. Roman released me as if burned. He caught me as I slumped forward, his grip shifting from violence to a desperate embrace. His voice sounded wrecked. “Talk to me, Selene.” “Ignore me again, and I won’t let go next time.” I couldn’t speak. I wanted to vomit. But I didn’t have the energy. I smelled like vodka, rain, and blood. I must have been repulsive. Roman buried his face in my damp, cold neck. “I only have you, Moon.” “Don’t leave me.” I closed my eyes, resigning myself to the darkness. The whole table was terrified. Especially the guy who dropped the news about Atlas. He looked ready to bolt. Piper was the only one with nerves of steel. “Roman,” she said, her voice trembling slightly. “You still have me.” Roman didn’t hear her. He only saw me. The next day, he transferred me five thousand dollars. The incident at the bar was swept under the rug. The only thing that changed was that he forced his way into my life again. He insisted I join him and Piper for the big semester project. He paid for my time. I couldn’t refuse the money. Which meant I had to bring Atlas along. We met at a different café. The manager practically bowed when we walked in. Roman saw Atlas and smirked. “How’s the old man holding up?” Atlas nodded calmly. “He’s well. Your father brought your brother by to visit him recently.” Roman’s face went rigid. The “brother” was the illegitimate son his father brought home freshman year—a kid only a few months younger than Roman. Proof that Mr. and Mrs. Carter’s “perfect marriage” was a lie long before the accident. Atlas knew exactly where to aim. He glanced at me. “It’s crowded here. Let’s go to the back.” I nodded quickly. Roman looked like he wanted to kill someone. Once seated, Atlas pulled out some blueprints. “Can you model these for me? Five grand per model. Cash on delivery.” I looked at the papers. They were prototypes for Hale Industries. Confidential ones. He was handing me money. It was charity, wrapped in work. “Thank you,” I said. Mom’s condition had worsened. I needed every cent. He smiled. “I’m not doing you a favor. You’re the best modeler in the department.” I managed a weak smile. 5 Rumors started flying that Atlas and I were together. Some said the Hales gave me a huge sum of money—a dowry, they joked. Atlas didn’t care about the gossip. Maybe because he was leaving. He was going to London for a semester exchange in the fall. Roman remained volatile. He liked to summon me to the bar, just to have me sit there while he drank and stared at me. One night, he was wasted. He leaned heavily on my shoulder. “Do you know why your dad died?” I had heard this rhetorical question a thousand times. But his next words stopped my heart. “He was drunk. He deserved it.” “But my mom? Why did my mom have to die with him?” I shoved him away. Hard. I slapped him across the face. The sound cut through the music. “Don’t you dare lie about my father,” I said, shaking. “He never drove drunk. Never.” Roman’s head snapped to the side. He laughed, a wet, sloppy sound. “He drank! Are you stupid? A driver with twenty years of experience just ‘loses control’? The autopsy found alcohol! Your dad killed a car full of people!” He was pointing a crooked finger at me. “The report proved it!” Piper appeared out of nowhere, grabbing Roman’s arm, screaming at me. “Your dad is a murderer!” The accusation rang in my ears. Dizziness swamped me. Years ago, the crash was ruled an accident. Brake failure. I had never seen the autopsy report. But Dad… he wouldn’t. By the next morning, the whole campus was buzzing with the “truth.” They looked at me with disgust. They looked at Roman with pity. In high school, I was a jinx. Now, I was the daughter of a murderer. I walked through the day like a ghost. It rained all day. When the hospital called, thunder was shaking the windows. Acute intracranial pressure. She needed immediate surgery. One hundred thousand dollars. High risk. Low success rate. Do you want to proceed? Every word was a hammer blow to my chest. “Miss Selene? Miss Selene?” I looked down at my shoes. I couldn’t cry. I was too empty. “Give me one day.” I found Roman at The Lounge. When I walked in, his friends jeered. “Hey look, it’s Fifty.” “Fifty is too cheap. Let’s say five hundred. I like to take it slow.” “If I were her, I’d have jumped off a bridge by now.” I didn’t hear them. I walked straight to Roman, bent my knees, and knelt on the sticky floor. “Lend me a hundred grand. Please.” His hand paused halfway to his mouth. He looked down at me through the smoke. “Is your mom dying, too?” I didn’t answer. Ash from his cigarette fell onto my arm. It burned a small, grey circle into my skin. I didn’t flinch. Finally, the cigarette burned down to his fingers. He stood up. “Selene. I don’t owe you anything.” He walked away. I collapsed on the floor. When I left, the rain was still pouring. I walked into the storm, letting it soak me to the bone. Steps approached rapidly from behind. An umbrella appeared over my head. A warm jacket was draped over my shoulders. “Selene,” Atlas said. “Grandfather says he’ll cover your mother’s treatment.” “Don’t be scared.” I looked up. Finally, the tears came. Atlas wiped them away with his thumb. “The medical facilities in London are better. We can transfer her there.” He paused. “Will you come to London with me?” “UAL. The best design program in the world.” “Grandfather insists. He says he wants to hire you for Hale Corp immediately after graduation to exploit your talent.” I stared at him for a long time. Then I nodded. He pulled me into a hug. It was warm. Safe. With Atlas’s help, the application was instant. We didn’t tell anyone. In the last month of freshman year, we flew to London.

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It started with an electric bill. That was how I found out my father had a second family. Mom had asked me to log into Dad’s utility account because the notification said the bill was overdue. I punched in the password, expecting the usual boring interface. I froze. There were two account numbers linked to the profile. The first was ours: Unit 2, Building 7, Oakwood Gardens. The second address was one I’d never seen before: Unit 1801, Tower 3, The Vancroft. The account nickname consisted of just one word: Home. I stared at the screen for ten seconds, the blue light burning into my retinas. My house was Oakwood Gardens. So, if this other place was Home—which family lived there? I didn’t tell Mom. Not yet. I took a screenshot, logged out, and opened Google Maps. The Vancroft. Located in the Riverside District. Average listing price: $1.2 million. 1. I didn’t go home after work that day. I called an Uber and headed straight for Riverside. The Vancroft was “new money” written in glass and steel. There was a fountain out front and a crystal chandelier in the lobby that looked like it cost more than my car. It was a universe away from the walk-up condo built in 2003 where I grew up. I stood outside the entrance for ten minutes, watching the revolving doors spin. When a delivery driver buzzed in, I slipped through the gate behind him. Elevator to the 18th floor. Unit 1801. There were two pairs of slippers on the welcome mat outside the door. One pair of men’s leather loafers, size 11. My dad’s size. One pair of women’s slides. Pink, with a little satin bow on top. My mother wouldn’t be caught dead in pink. I stood there, my heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird. I didn’t knock. I crouched down and looked at the gap beneath the door. The doormat was brand new. It read: HOME SWEET HOME. My mother didn’t speak a word of English beyond “Hello” and “Thank you.” I pulled out my phone, snapped a picture, and went back downstairs. I found a bench in the complex’s landscaped garden and sat. 6:30 PM. If people lived here, they’d be coming home soon. I waited forty minutes. At 7:10 PM, a woman walked in with a boy. She looked to be in her late forties, hair done in perfect, expensive beach waves, wearing a beige trench coat and carrying shopping bags from Nordstrom. The boy looked about eighteen or nineteen, backpack slung over one shoulder. They fobbed into the building. I watched the elevator indicator lights. It stopped on the 18th floor. Three minutes later, the windows of Unit 1801 glowed to life. Warm, yellow light. It looked cozy. It looked like a family. I sat in the cold, staring at that window. My phone buzzed. It was Dad. “Harper, honey, I’ve got a client dinner tonight. Won’t be home for supper.” I looked up at the light on the 18th floor. “Okay.” I hung up. Twenty minutes later, a black Audi A6 pulled into the driveway. License plate 7792. My dad’s car. He got out, carrying a white cake box. Magnolia Bakery. He walked into the building. The elevator rose. Another light flicked on in Unit 1801. I sat on the bench. The wind was biting, cutting through my jacket. My dad’s “client dinner” was on the 18th floor. I suddenly remembered last month, on Mom’s birthday. Dad said he had a board meeting and didn’t get home until 10:00 PM. There was no cake. He had said, “You’re fifty years old, Susan. Why do you need a birthday party? You’re not a child.” I pulled out my phone and opened the banking app. I had access to Dad’s personal account; I handled his taxes sometimes. I scrolled down. Every month on the 15th, there was a fixed transfer. $3,000. Recipient: Vanessa. Memo: Household. I scrolled back. January. $3,000. December. $3,000. November. $3,000. I kept scrolling. And scrolling. My fingers started to go numb. The transfers went back to 2005. Every single month. Not one missed payment. 2005. I was six years old. I did the math in my head. 20 years. $3,000 times 12, times 20. $720,000. And that was just the monthly allowance. My hand was shaking. Not from the cold. I closed the app. I stood up and took one last look at the window on the 18th floor. The warm, yellow light. A family of three. I turned around and walked away. On the ride home, Mom texted me. “Harper, I saved some dinner for you. Corn chowder and ribs. Come home soon, it’s getting cold.” I stared at the message. For a long time. Then I typed: “Okay. Almost there.” 2. When I got home, Mom was at the sink, washing dishes. Her apron was old, the fabric worn thin near the waist where she had patched a hole with mismatched thread. The stew was on the table, covered with a plate to keep the heat in. “Late night?” Mom wiped her hands on a towel as she turned around. “Overtime,” I lied. I sat down to eat. The meat was falling off the bone, the corn sweet and soft—just the way she knew I liked it. As I ate, a hot pressure built up behind my eyes. “What’s wrong?” Mom asked, pausing. “Nothing. The ribs are good.” Mom smiled. The skin around her eyes crinkled. “Eat up, then. There’s more in the pot.” She turned back to the sink. I heard the rush of the faucet. My mother’s hands were perpetually red and chapped from water and soap. In the winter, her knuckles cracked and bled, covered in Band-Aids. She wasn’t always like this. I’d seen the old photos. Twenty-five years old, working at the bank, crisp white blouse, a bob cut that framed her face perfectly, a smile that lit up the room. She was a head teller back then. Top performance in her branch. Then she got pregnant with me. Dad had said, “Stay home and take care of the baby. I’ll take care of you.” So Mom quit. She was twenty-eight. When she resigned, her branch manager had said, “Susan, are you sure? You have a real future here. It’s a waste to leave.” Mom had said, “The baby is more important.” What she didn’t know—what I had only recently pieced together—was that after she quit, her position was filled by a woman named Vanessa. Mom resigned the same year Dad’s construction supply business was just getting off the ground. Where did the capital come from? Mom’s inheritance. $50,000. Back in 2004, that was everything my grandparents had saved. Mom said, “Robert, take it. When the company gets big, just pay me back.” Dad said, “Don’t worry. I’ll never let you down.” The company did get big. It went from a $50,000 startup to a multi-million dollar operation. And Mom? Mom stayed home. She raised the kid, cooked the meals. Washed the clothes, mopped the floors. Twenty years. Three hundred and sixty-five days a year. No weekends, no holidays, no year-end bonuses. After I went to college, Mom had a little more time. She told Dad she wanted to buy a new winter coat. Her old one was eight years old, the cuffs frayed. Dad said, “Money’s tight right now. We need to be frugal.” Mom said, “Oh. Okay then.” She wore that coat for another year. My first year working, I used my Christmas bonus to buy her a high-end down parka. Mom was happy for a week. She tried it on five times. Every time, she’d fold it carefully and put it back in the box, saying, “It’s too nice. I don’t want to ruin it.” Sitting at the kitchen table now, I thought about that coat. I thought about the woman at The Vancroft. The beige trench coat. The Nordstrom bags. The beach waves. My dad bought those for her. My mom wore an eight-year-old coat. My dad gave Vanessa a $3,000 monthly “allowance.” I squeezed my eyes shut. After dinner, I went to my room. Locked the door. Opened my laptop. I’m a CPA. Auditing is what I do. It’s who I am. I logged into Dad’s business accounts. He hadn’t changed the password since the dawn of time. I started digging. And God, did I find things. Beyond the monthly $3,000 transfers, there was so much more. 2008. Transfer: $100,000. Memo: Property Purchase. 2012. Transfer: $60,000. Memo: Renovation. 2015. Transfer: $45,000. Memo: Vehicle. 2018. Transfer: $30,000. Memo: Tuition. 2019. $30,000. Tuition. 2020. $30,000. 2021. $30,000. 2022. $30,000. 2023. $30,000. Six years of tuition. What kind of school costs $30k a year? Private prep school. I looked up the rates for Riverside Academy. $28,500 plus fees. I remembered something else. My senior year of high school, I wanted to take an SAT prep course. It was $500. Mom asked Dad. Dad said, “She’s already a senior. Why bother now? It’s a waste of money.” I didn’t take the course. I got into a state school. My $500 class was a waste. But another kid’s $30,000 tuition was paid without blinking an eye. I took a deep breath. I kept digging. That night, I exported ten years of transaction history. I flagged every suspicious line item until 3:00 AM. I calculated the total. 20 years. Transfers to Vanessa, plus the condo down payment, the renovation, the car, the tuition. Total: $2.4 million. And that was just the paper trail I could find. Conservatively? $2.5 million. I stared at the number on the screen. $2.5 million. Mom’s inheritance was $50,000. Dad built his life on that $50,000. And then he took $2.5 million to support another woman. Another home. I closed the laptop. I lay on my bed. There was a water stain on the ceiling. The roof leaked last year. Dad said, “Contractors are rip-offs. Let’s wait on it.” We waited a year. I bet the ceiling at The Vancroft didn’t have any stains. 3. The next day was Saturday. I didn’t go into the office. I investigated Vanessa. Her social security number was on the bank transfer logs. I asked a college friend to run a background check. He worked in data security. Vanessa. 48 years old. Local. Former employee of First City Bank. Hired: 2004. 2004. The same year. The year Mom quit. I grabbed my phone and dug out digital scans of Mom’s old photo albums. I found a group shot. Mom standing behind a bank counter with her team. On the far right, a tall woman with long hair, smiling broadly. On the back of the physical photo, Mom had written: 1999. Me, Vanessa, and Joan. The Dream Team. Vanessa. Vanessa. My mother’s colleague. But she was more than that. I went through Mom’s WeChat contacts (she used it to talk to relatives). No Vanessa. But I found a contact named “Big Sis V.” The last message was from 2004. Mom: “V, I’ve put in my notice. Take care of yourself.” Vanessa: “Don’t worry. You just focus on the baby. I’ve got things covered here at the bank.” She had things covered. She covered the bank. She covered my dad, too. I stared at that message for a long time. In 2004, Mom resigned. In 2004, Vanessa took Mom’s job. In 2005, Dad started sending Vanessa money. Mom gave up her seat at the table, and she gave it to her. Vanessa didn’t just take the job. She took my mother’s husband. I kept looking. I pulled the property deeds. The Vancroft, Tower 3, Unit 1801. Owner: Vanessa. Purchased: 2008. Down payment: $100,000. The mortgage payments? My dad paid them for ten years. Paid off in full in 2019. Current value: approx $1.2 million. There was also a car. 2015 Cadillac XT5. Bought for $45,000. Registered to Vanessa. I thought about Mom taking the bus to the grocery store. Dad said, “You don’t work, Susan. Why do you need a car? Gas is expensive.” Mom said, “You’re right.” I looked up Vanessa’s son. Tyler Su. 19 years old. Born: 2006. I was born in 1999. He was seven years younger than me. Which meant— When I was six, Vanessa was pregnant. When I was seven, she gave birth. The boy had my dad’s last name. Su. A fire started burning in my chest. What was I doing when I was six? I was sitting at the table, waiting for Daddy to come home for dinner. Mom would say, “Daddy’s busy at work, sweetie. You eat first.” What was Daddy busy with? He was busy having a baby with Vanessa. In that moment, everything clicked. When I was little, Dad was never home. I thought it was “client meetings.” In high school, he was gone even more. I thought it was “business trips.” Since college, I rarely came home, but when I did, he was gone. Mom said, “Your father works so hard.” He worked hard for twenty years. Hard at managing a second life. I put down the phone. Through it all, Mom knew nothing. She thought her husband was building an empire for us. She thought her sacrifice had meaning. She thought her $50,000 inheritance had bought a future for her family. She didn’t know it had turned into $2.5 million for another woman. She didn’t know the woman who took her job took her life. I picked up my phone. I wanted to call Mom. My finger hovered over her name. I put it down. Now wasn’t the time to show my cards. I had to do something first. 4. For the next three days, I kept digging. I knew there had to be more. I logged into Dad’s email. Password: his birthday + last four digits of his cell. He really thought we were too stupid to look. There was a folder named “ADMIN.” Mostly boring invoices. But at the bottom, three emails caught my eye. Sender: Baker & McKenzie Law Group. “Mr. Su, per your request, the draft of the divorce agreement is attached. Please review.” Date: Two months ago. I opened the attachment. Divorce Settlement Agreement. Plaintiff: Robert Su. Defendant: Susan Lin. Asset Distribution: a. Oakwood Gardens property transfers to Defendant. b. 100% of Company Equity remains with Plaintiff. C. Savings in respective personal accounts remain separate. d. Other assets to be negotiated. Oakwood Gardens. Bought in 2003. Worth maybe $400,000 now on a good day. It was an old building. And the company? I checked the financials for Su Construction Supplies, LLC. Annual revenue $3 million. Net profit roughly $500,000. Conservative valuation? At least $2 million. So, Dad wanted to give Mom the decaying $400k apartment. And keep the multi-million dollar business for himself. Plus his savings, his investments. Mom would get less than 15% of the total assets. This was his definition of “I’ll never let you down.” I opened the second email. “Mr. Su, regarding the equity transfer. To transfer 30% of shares to Tyler Su, we need the following documents…” He was giving the company to Vanessa’s son. Tyler. The 19-year-old. I was his biological daughter. In twenty-six years, he hadn’t given me a single share. But he was handing the legacy to the boy born on the side. I scrolled down. Third email. It was from Vanessa to my dad. Informal. “Robert, you need to speed up the divorce. Tyler is applying for schools abroad next year, we need the tuition liquid. If you can’t handle Susan, I’ll find someone to talk to her.” My dad replied: “Don’t worry. Done by year-end. She’s easy to deal with.” She’s easy to deal with. Yeah. Mom was easy. For twenty years, her answer to everything was “Okay,” “Sure,” “Whatever you think is best.” Vanessa said, “I’ll find someone to talk to her.” Who? Who the hell was she going to send to intimidate my mother? The audacity. I took screenshots. Every email. Every attachment. Then I checked one last thing. Tyler Su’s transcript. Riverside Academy.

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Three years into our long-distance relationship, I decided it was time for the “big surprise.” I’d booked a late-night Amtrak to the city, a bouquet of peonies tucked under my arm, and a heart full of plans for Miles’s twenty-fourth birthday. But when the door to his apartment swung open, the reality didn’t match the script in my head. The man who had just been cooing into the phone, telling me how much he ached for me, was currently pinned against the sofa by another girl. She was kissing him with a frantic, proprietary hunger. Even as the small crowd around them erupted into whistles and cheers, Miles didn’t pull away. His expression wasn’t one of resistance; it was a hazy, passive acceptance. From my shadow in the corner of the entryway, I watched them for a long, frozen minute. No one even noticed I was there. … When Miles called me earlier that night, I was already standing outside his door, holding a custom-ordered bourbon-vanilla cake. I’d borrowed a nondescript delivery jacket from a courier downstairs and pulled the brim of my cap low. Through the phone, his voice was crystal clear, vibrating with that familiar, boyish charm. “Babe, I got the gift you sent. I love it so much. It’s perfect.” As soon as the words left his lips, a chorus of drunken mocking rose up behind him. His friends were parroting his tone, shouting “Babe!” and “I love it!” into the cramped apartment air. For three years, Miles had made “loyalty” his entire personality. He told everyone he met that he was taken. His friends all knew my name, my face, and the fact that we’d used matching lock-screen photos since sophomore year of college. He didn’t hide me; he brandished me like a shield. Hearing that soft, needy “Babe” made my pulse skip. My ears felt hot. I gripped the cake box tighter, my heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird. Just a few days ago, I’d had this impulsive, romantic vision. I’d take the train, bring the flowers, and give him a birthday he’d never forget. The call ended. I let out a small, shaky smile, fished the spare key from my pocket, and eased it into the lock. The moment the door clicked open, my eyes went straight to the living room. A group was huddled around the sofa in the center of the room. Under the dim, amber glow of the Edison bulbs, I was invisible—just a shadow in a delivery jacket. Miles was sinking into the leather cushions. A girl—someone I didn’t recognize—had her hands planted on either side of his head, leaning down to claim his mouth. They were tangled together, their lips pressed tight in a way that looked practiced. The room erupted again, the cheers turning into a dull roar in my ears. I felt the blood drain from my face, a cold, heavy stone settling in my gut. My hands went numb. Miles seemed lost in it. And when the girl finally pulled back for air, I didn’t see him push her away. I saw him lean up, following the gravity of the moment, and kiss her back. The cake box hit the floor with a wet thud. The romantic atmosphere shattered instantly. A dozen heads turned toward the door. In my panic, my first instinct wasn’t to scream or demand an explanation. It was to drop to my knees and try to save the ruined cake. The white frosting was smeared across the hardwood—a soft, pathetic mess. To my touch, it felt like jagged shards of glass, slicing into my dignity until I felt like I was bleeding out right there on the floor. “How’d the door get open? Who forgot to—” Someone started to curse, and then the room descended into a chaotic scramble of voices. But as I finally looked up, the noise died. Silence fell over the apartment like a shroud. For three years, I had been the wallpaper of Miles’s life. My face was his screensaver; our framed photos lined his hallway. He’d hung them up the day I moved back for my master’s program, telling me over FaceTime that he needed the “shrine” to survive the distance. Now, Miles just stared at me, paralyzed. His phone sat on the coffee table, the screen still glowing with a candid photo he’d taken of me while I was sleeping. That image of pure, unsuspecting peace felt like a slap in the face. “Hey, Nora… what are you doing here? You should’ve called, we would’ve picked you up from the station!” “Miles is wasted, seriously. He was just saying your name like five minutes ago. You guys are literally goals, haha.” “Look, it was just Truth or Dare. We pushed it too far, totally our fault. Don’t be mad, Nora.” The “bros” were already closing ranks, spinning the narrative before Miles could even find his tongue. I saw the girl—the one who’d been on top of him—clutching Miles’s sleeve. His friends tried to usher her behind them, and I caught a glimpse of tears welling in her eyes. There were only a few feet of floorboards between us, but it felt like a canyon had opened up. Miles was suddenly a stranger on the far side of a cliff. He finally shoved through the crowd, stumbling toward me, frantically wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Nora, baby—I don’t even like her. It was a mistake. I didn’t—I swear I didn’t mean to—” He was rambling, his voice breaking in that specific way he knew always melted my heart. He started to cry, big, fat tears tracking through his stubble. I looked away from the pile of ruined cream on the floor and focused on his lips. Miles used to tell me those lips belonged to me and me alone. Now, they were stained with a shade of red that wasn’t mine—a bold, mocking crimson. It was a territorial marking, a flag planted on soil I thought I owned. The last thread of my composure snapped. My throat ached, and without a word, I turned and bolted. “Nora! Wait!” I heard him pounding after me, but I slammed the door with every ounce of strength I had left. The courier was still by his bike downstairs, looking confused. I ripped off the oversized jacket and handed it back to him. “Thanks,” I whispered, my voice sounding like it belonged to someone else. “I’ll leave you a five-star review.” He saw my blotchy, red eyes and opened his mouth to ask if I was okay, but the sound of heavy footsteps hitting the stairs cut him off. Miles caught my arm, his grip trembling. He looked pathetic, undone. “Nora, please. It was nothing. I was drunk, she jumped me. Please don’t leave. You can’t leave me.” I stayed silent. Behind him, his friends had spilled out onto the sidewalk, a chorus of excuses following in their wake. The girl was there, too, rubbing her face. She looked like she’d been crying, her voice hitching in her throat. “Nora, I’m so sorry. I just… I lost my head. Miles rejected me, I swear, I just forced it…” The second she said “Miles,” he snapped. He whirled around and screamed at her, “Don’t call me that! I don’t even know you! You’re making me sick, just get out of here!” The girl flinched as if he’d hit her. She stood there, stunned, before turning away and letting out a jagged, muffled cough. As she turned, I felt Miles’s grip on my arm tighten. He was rigid with tension. The pressure hurt. I winced and tried to pull away, which seemed to snap him out of his trance. He looked at me, his eyes flitting from anger to desperate concern. “Babe, are you okay? Did I hurt you? It’s freezing out here, your hands are like ice.” He took my hands in his, blowing warm air onto my fingers, completely ignoring the girl he’d just humiliated. The crowd went quiet. The courier, sensing a scene he didn’t want to be part of, quietly pedaled away. I looked at the top of Miles’s head as he bent over my hands. I felt like a dull knife was being dragged across my chest—a slow, rhythmic sawing. He took my lack of resistance as a sign of forgiveness. He leaned in, trying to kiss my cheek, but I jerked my head away. I kept my eyes on the pavement, pulling my hands back and smoothing my hair. My voice was eerily flat, like I was commenting on a forecast. “My train back is in an hour. Take me to the station.” A flash of pure, pathetic relief crossed his face. “Of course. Anything. Let’s go.” He fumbled for his keys, led me to his car, and held the door open like he was the perfect gentleman. When I climbed into the passenger seat, he tried to lean over to buckle my seatbelt—the way he’d done a thousand times before. I was faster. I yanked the strap across my chest and clicked it into place, a physical barrier against the world. I didn’t say another word. Miles hesitated, then shut my door gently. He walked back toward the group. I couldn’t see his face, but I watched him in the side mirror. He took off his jacket—the expensive wool one I’d bought him for Christmas—and handed it to the girl. Then he ran back to the car. The heater kicked in, filling the cabin with artificial warmth. As the engine hummed, I stared down at my feet. I was wearing the sneakers Miles had bought me. I hated heels, so he’d filled my closet with every color of flat-soled shoes imaginable. Miles hadn’t finished college. His parents passed away during his sophomore year, and he’d had to drop out to work. He’d lived on nothing so I could have everything. I remembered the leanest month, when he only had twelve dollars to his name. He spent six on a bowl of wonton soup for me and the other six on a single, long-stemmed rose. Back then, I thought his face was more beautiful than any flower. He’d looked at me with such fierce, terrifying certainty and promised he’d get rich just to take care of me. When his first startup took off, he didn’t spend a dime on himself. He transferred the entire first check to my savings account. People teased him, calling him “whipped,” but he’d just laugh and say he was happy to be my servant for life. For three years, he wasn’t physically there, but he saturated my life. Everything I touched, wore, or used was a gift from him. Even when I told him it was too much, he insisted. “Where’s your jacket?” I asked as he pulled out into traffic. “You were wearing it a second ago.” A chill seemed to cling to him. I wanted an answer—I needed to hear the lie or the truth, I didn’t care which. He kept his eyes on the road. His voice was a whisper. “It got… dirty. I took it off. I know you can’t stand stains, Nora. I didn’t want to bring the mess into the car with you.” The car came to a halt at a red light. He reached over and gripped my hand so hard it felt like he was trying to fuse our bones together. Like he was afraid if he let go, I’d evaporate. I didn’t look at him. I looked at the window. In the black reflection of the glass, I saw a girl crying, and I barely recognized her. The station was a ghost town. Miles had rushed out in just a thin t-shirt. I took a deep breath, stepped out of the car, and kept my tone light, professional. “You should get back. I can handle it from here.” He frowned, his mouth opening to protest, but his phone cut him off. It was one of his friends. Miles tried to ignore it, but it rang again instantly. He went to hit decline, then changed his mind. Maybe he thought showing me he had nothing to hide would help. He hit ‘speaker.’ “Miles, where are you? Daisy is—” The name Daisy hit the air like a gunshot. I saw Miles’s entire demeanor shift. He cut the speaker, pressed the phone to his ear, and looked at me with the eyes of a trapped animal. Seeing that I remained expressionless, he stepped several yards away to take the call in private. I didn’t try to stop him. I just sat on a cold metal bench in the terminal, watching the departure board. When he came back, he looked torn, his face a map of guilt. He reached out and hooked his pinky around mine—our secret signal for “I’m sorry, let’s make up.” I didn’t look at him. “Babe… the door locked behind us and they’re all stuck outside. They can’t get back in. I have to go back for a second, okay?” I didn’t answer. “Just… take a breath. Calm down. You can do whatever you want to me later, just please, don’t talk about breaking up. You know you’re all I have.” Before he turned to leave, he tapped his phone. A notification chimed on mine—a massive Venmo transfer. As his tail-lights faded into the night, I finally blinked. My throat felt like it was full of dry sand. The old Miles would have printed my ticket for me. He would have checked my bag, made sure I had snacks, and stood on the platform until the train was out of sight. This time, he didn’t even notice that I hadn’t gone to the kiosk to get a ticket. On the big screen, the departures kept flickering. There wasn’t even a train back to my campus tonight. Miles hadn’t asked why I’d come. He hadn’t wondered how I could possibly be leaving so soon. He was too busy covering his tracks, frantically trying to pull himself out of the mud he’d jumped into. The sky was bruising into a dark, rainy gray. I rubbed my temples, pulled up an app, and booked a slow, grueling Greyhound bus. The city was hours away from my university. The bus was cramped, sweltering, and smelled of old coffee and desperation. As soon as I took my seat, Miles’s texts started flooding in. Nora, today was on me. I screwed up. Please don’t give me the death penalty yet. Let’s talk. We were only hanging out for work stuff. I already talked to the partners—when you start your internship this summer, you’re going to be right next to me in my office. I need you. I can’t breathe without you. Don’t throw us away. I scrolled past the words and tapped on a photo he’d sent a week ago. It was a group shot from a company retreat. Miles was in the center, and right next to him, leaning in so close their shoulders overlapped, was Daisy. She was smiling with a soft, gentle warmth. When Miles first started the company, he’d kissed me and made a promise. “Behind every great man is a greater woman,” he’d said. “There will only ever be one female employee in this company, Nora. And that’s you. You’re the only queen this castle needs.” It was a cheesy, romantic joke, but I’d tucked it away like a treasure. Now, the “employee” slot was filled. And I realized I didn’t want to be the queen of his castle anymore. The bus was noisy—a baby crying in the back, a man snoring beside me. But inside my head, it was silent. I opened the chat, my thumbs shaking as I typed the words, letter by letter. Miles, we’re done. Don’t come looking for me. I hit send. I didn’t wait to see the “typing…” bubble. I blocked him. I thought that was the end of it. But a second later, my phone rang. An unknown number. I picked up. Miles’s voice was hysterical, a jagged edge of madness bleeding through the line. “Nora, if you want to break up with me, you’ll have to kill me first. You hear me? Unless I’m dead, this is never happening.” The hair on my neck stood up. I heard the screech of tires on the other end—a violent, metallic scream that made my heart jump into my throat. Then, I heard Miles laugh. It was a cold, hollow sound. “Phone calls are cheap,” he whispered. “I’m coming to you. You can say it to my face.”

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