Category: English

1 My mother-in-law had been accidentally poisoned. She was knocking on death’s door, and I, the only toxicologist in the city who could save her, was her last hope. I had just hung up the phone and was about to leave when my husband, Aiden, blocked my path. “Today’s the grand opening of Nina’s Terror Dome,” he said, his voice laced with annoyance. “If you take off, who’s going to play the penniless NPC?” My face hardened. “The golden window for the antidote is thirty minutes. One second late, and your mother could die.” Aiden just rolled his eyes. “If your janitor mom kicks the bucket, she kicks the bucket. I’ll throw some extra cash at her funeral, big deal. But if you dare cause a scene today, I’ll ruin you.” His female bestie, Nina, draped herself over him with a playful laugh. “What’s the hurry, Dia? Itching to sneak out and meet some other guy? Look at that long face, longer than when you’re getting off. Right, my big boy?” I almost laughed at their shamelessness. It clicked. Aiden thought the one dying was my mother. “Fine,” I said, my voice eerily calm as I put the case containing the serum back down. “I won’t go.” Aiden blinked, clearly taken aback. He probably expected me to burst into tears, to beg him, or to make a desperate run for the door. He sized me up, a frown creasing his brow. “Scared, are you? Good. Nina’s grand opening is a hell of a lot more important than your worthless mother.” Nina giggled, playfully punching his chest. “See? I told you my big boy knows how to train a woman. I bet you broke her in bed to make her this obedient. That new position you tried on me last time had my legs sore for three days!” They collapsed into a fit of laughter, grabbing at each other. I cleared my throat. Aiden’s patience snapped. “What now, Dia? Just let your filthy, foul-smelling mother die. The stench of piss and shit just clings to her.” He sneered. “Did she poison herself digging through another dumpster for dinner? Honestly, why would you even go? To collect her corpse? Just flush it down a sewer and be done with it.” I had always told myself that Aiden was just being influenced by Nina, this toxic “one of the guys” type of woman. That his cruelty was a temporary lapse in judgment. But I never imagined he would think it was my mother who was dying. And that my mother’s life, in his eyes, was worth less than the grand opening of Nina’s tacky haunted house. The disgust was suffocating. I pulled out a chair and sat down. “Fine. I’m not leaving. Your good time is what’s most important. What’s a life in comparison?” Aiden stared for a second, the contempt in his eyes deepening. “Glad you know your place. So you finally admit your stinking mother’s life is cheap.” Nina cackled, hanging off Aiden like a vine. “It’s for the best you see reality, Dia. I bet your mom is just trying to scam some money before she croaks. Were you planning to rush over and grab your cut before she stopped breathing?” Aiden basked in her attention, letting her hands roam over his body. “Let me tell you something, Dia. I invested thirty million dollars in this Terror Dome. It’s my gift to Nina. If you dare ruin our mood, I won’t just let your mother die. I’ll make sure your entire family joins her.” Just then, Aiden’s phone rang. He answered on speaker, his voice dripping with irritation. “Is this Mr. Blackwood? Your mother is fading fast! If Dr. Hayes doesn’t get here with the serum, there’s nothing more we can do!” That’s when Aiden exploded. He lunged at me, grabbing my arm so violently that the serum case I was holding clattered to the floor. “Don’t you dare compare that old hag to my mother!” he roared into the phone. “If she’s going to die, tell her to get on with it! Call and harass me again, and I’ll burn your damn hospital to the ground!” He slammed the phone down and, in a fit of rage, brought his heel down on the serum case. The delicate vial inside shattered, the sound echoing the final snap of my mother-in-law’s lifeline. To create that single, tiny vial, my team had spent three years locked in a lab. We’d failed over a thousand times, burning through enough funding to buy ten of his ridiculous theme parks. That was the only finished dose in existence. Aiden, however, looked triumphant. “Just let your broke-ass mom rot and stink up the hospital,” he sneered. “If it weren’t for that pretty face and the fact that you put out in bed, do you think you would have ever married into the Blackwood family?” Nina stood on her toes and kissed his chin. “Isn’t it a good thing your mom’s dead, Dia? Now we won’t have to deal with her constantly trying to leech off us. Last time, she asked me to find her a job sweeping a park, said she could collect an extra twenty bottles a day! Can you believe it? So pathetic!” I had to laugh. The annual interest from my mother’s trust fund alone could buy out the Blackwood family ten times over. Who the hell did they think they were? The Blackwood business was a sinking ship I had secretly bailed out because I felt sorry for him. Ever since I was kidnapped as a child, the resulting trauma had made my mother insist I keep my identity a secret. And here he was, using my money to buy gifts for Nina while humiliating me for my supposed poverty. The audacity was breathtaking. “Whether you want to save a dying person is your business,” I said, my voice dangerously low. “But if you dare insult my mother again, don’t blame me for what happens next.” Aiden’s face twisted in a sneer. “Are you threatening me? Don’t want to collect your mother’s corpse anymore? I’ll have you know, her dying today is a sacrifice to bless the opening of Nina’s Terror Dome!” His friends chimed in. “Yeah, Ryan! The park opens tonight! We still haven’t tested that new extreme horror theme.” Aiden glanced at me, then waved at his bodyguards. “Since you’re so eager to run your mouth, you can be Nina’s test subject!” I fought, but they were too strong, pinning me to an operating table in a room designed to look like a biohazard lab. Nina stood over me, holding a massive, prop syringe. “Welcome to my laboratory of horrors!” she announced to the room. “Today, we will be conducting a thrilling live experiment!” The crowd roared with laughter. “Damn, this is good! The effects are amazing. I’m gonna live-stream this; it’ll create a huge buzz for tonight’s opening.” Just then, my phone, still in my jacket pocket, began to ring incessantly. Annoyed at the interruption, Aiden snatched it. His eyes fell on the caller ID: “Chairman Hayes.” With a roar of fury, he smashed the phone against my head. “You’ve got some nerve, Dia! Already found yourself a sugar daddy!” Nina poked him in the chest. “A Chairman, huh? You’re really something, Dia. Stringing my big boy along while you’re hooking up with some old geezer on the side?” Her voice turned venomous. “I bet you killed your own mother on purpose, just to scam some cash so you could run off with your new rich boyfriend!” As she spoke, she drew a viscous, unnerving liquid from a beaker into the syringe. “Let me teach you a lesson, you shameless whore.” Aiden’s eyes gleamed with excitement. “Great idea, Nina! Later, we’ll strip her naked and lock her in a cage for all the visitors to see!” Hearing this, Nina lunged, aiming the needle straight for my neck. But the escape artist training from my childhood kidnapping hadn’t faded. In a fluid motion, I broke the rope bindings and twisted, redirecting the syringe and plunging it deep into the back of her hand. “AHH!” Nina’s scream was bloodcurdling. The skin on her hand began to corrode, sizzling as white smoke rose from it. “My hand! My hand!” she shrieked in terror. Her friends, who had been laughing moments before, backed away in horror. “What the hell? I thought that was a prop!” “Is… is that real acid?” Panic seized Aiden. He rushed to Nina, cradling her and kissing her rotting hand, before turning on me and slapping me across the face. “You bitch, Dia! You dare hurt Nina! If you don’t get on your knees and beg for her forgiveness right now, I swear I’ll make sure they never even find your mother’s ashes!” At that moment, a commotion erupted at the entrance. “Dr. Hayes! We tried calling you a dozen times! We had to use your phone’s GPS to find you!” Several paramedics rushed in, their faces grim. “The patient was still holding on, waiting for your serum, but on the way here…” One of them sighed heavily. “She’s gone. We’ve brought the body for the family. You should start making arrangements.” Aiden looked disgusted. “God, Dia, your mother is relentless even in death.” Nina, her face a mask of pain and hate, screamed, “They brought the corpse here? Well, isn’t that a grand opening gift! A special guest of honor for the premiere!” Her twisted joke broke the tension, and the friends started laughing again. “Aiden, you’re a genius! A real corpse as a prop for opening night? The publicity will be insane!” “It does stink a bit, though. What is that smell?” Aiden pinched his nose, then kicked the gurney with disgust. “Get this unlucky trash out of here! Can’t even die in peace!” The body rolled off the gurney and hit the floor with a sickening thud. The face was swollen and purple, completely unrecognizable. But Aiden had found a new source of amusement. He grabbed my hair and forced my face down toward the corpse on the floor. “Dia, if you get on your knees right now and bark like a dog to apologize to Nina, I might consider sparing your mother’s remains. Otherwise, she’s going to be the Terror Dome’s first real ghost!” The pain in my scalp was excruciating. But all I could feel was a strange, dark amusement at the scene unfolding before me. I slapped his hand away. “You’re the one who’s so good at acting like an animal. Why don’t you show me? Let’s hear what a pair of dogs in heat sound like.” Aiden’s face contorted with rage. “You dare talk back to me, you bitch!” He lifted his foot and brought it down hard, stomping on the head of the corpse. I just smiled. “Aiden, I only ever said ‘my mother’ was poisoned and dying.” “What if,” I continued, my voice sweet as poison, “the head under your foot isn’t my mother’s… but yours?” He threw his head back and roared with laughter. “My mother? Dia, has grief finally broken your brain? My mom is on vacation in Europe. You’re wishing death on her now?” He sneered. “Let me tell you, the entire world could die before my mother does. Comparing your dumpster-diving, filthy old hag to my mother is like comparing heaven and hell.” Nina clutched her blackening hand, her eyes spitting venom. “Don’t waste your breath on her, big boy! She’s doing it on purpose! Look what this bitch did to my hand! Chop up her dead mom! Do it now!” Aiden’s eyes turned murderous. He grabbed a fire axe from a wall display and raised it over the body. “Whatever my precious Nina wants, she gets. These limbs will look great in the haunted house tonight. Give the guests a touch of realism!” The heavy, wet thud of the axe echoed through the room, over and over. But I just laughed. Aiden was truly, stupendously idiotic. I couldn’t wait to see his face when he found out whose body he was currently dismembering. He was still gloating. “How about that, Dia? This is your mother’s final contribution to our Terror Dome. You should be thanking me.” “I’ll give you one last chance. Get on your knees, chop off the hand that hurt Nina, and I’ll let you collect what’s left of your mother.” He reached for me. I grabbed a heavy iron skillet from a nearby prop table and swung it with all my might into his face. The impact sent him staggering backward, blood gushing from his nose. Everyone froze, stunned into silence. Nina pointed a trembling, corroded finger at me. “You hit my big boy! Get her! Cut off her hands and feet!” The bodyguards started to move, but Aiden wobbled back to his feet. He wiped the blood from his face, his eyes glowing with a terrifying, manic light. “Good. Very good,” he hissed. “It seems I’ve been too kind to you. You’ve forgotten what you are.” He grabbed the severed head of the corpse and began dragging it toward the back courtyard. The guards seized me, forcing me to follow. In the courtyard was a massive industrial shredder. “Dia,” Aiden snarled, his voice a low growl, “since you refuse to learn your lesson, you can watch your mother get turned into pulp!” He switched on the machine. With a triumphant roar, he tossed the dismembered body parts into the grinder. The machine roared to life, a gruesome fountain of blood and viscera spraying everywhere. Aiden stood beside it, drenched in the gory mess. He even spread his arms wide, reveling in it. “HAHAHA! DO YOU SEE THAT, DIA? THAT’S YOUR MOTHER’S FINAL FATE! GROUND TO A PASTE! YOU WON’T EVEN BE ABLE TO COLLECT HER ASHES!” He turned his head, his crimson eyes locking onto me. “Now, it’s your turn!” Just as he raised the axe and charged toward me, the courtyard gates burst open. My father-in-law rushed in, his face pale with urgency. He swung his cane, cracking it across Aiden’s face. “Your mother is dying, and you’re stopping Dia from saving her?” he screamed, his voice breaking. “Where is her body? The hospital said they delivered the body! Where is it?”

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The third year of our marriage, Austin came back. For the first time ever, Victoria didn’t eat dinner at home. She just grabbed her coat and left for the airport. She didn’t come home that night. I found Austin through Victoria’s Instagram follows. I refreshed the page. A new post had just gone up. [Finally back home. Surrounded by my love and my friends.] In the picture, Victoria was leaning into Austin, both of them smiling for the camera, flanked by people I recognized as her friends. I turned off my phone. I closed my eyes. And I closed my heart. 1 After work, I ate dinner out, then took a long walk along the riverfront before finally driving home. A light was on in the window. Victoria was back. I opened the door and stood in the foyer, changing my shoes. In a rare gesture, Victoria came over, took my coat and bag, and hung them on the rack. “Why are you so late tonight?” she asked. “I tried calling, but you didn’t answer. I asked your assistant, and he said you left the office hours ago.” She hesitated. “Have you eaten? I made…” Doing these things, saying these words—that was usually my role. Tonight, she had taken my part. I held up a hand, cutting her off. “I’m tired. I have an early meeting tomorrow. I’m sleeping in the guest room tonight.” Walking past the living room, I saw the dining table was set with a full spread of dishes. There were even candles. What was this? A guilt-ridden attempt to make amends for spending last night with Austin? It was disgusting. I pushed open the guest room door without breaking stride. Victoria called out behind me. “Leo. What were you going to say last night?” I turned. The warm light cast soft, deceptively gentle shadows on her exquisite face. I had looked at that face for years and never grown tired of it. But the moment I saw it in that intimate photo with Austin, it had become unrecognizable. “I forgot.” I lowered my eyes and went into the bedroom. Lying in bed, my hand drifted to my chest. Last night, at dinner, I had been about to tell Victoria about my promotion and raise. But she took a call, dropped her fork, and grabbed her keys and coat, rushing out the door. “Something came up at the office,” was all she’d said. I sat at the table, waiting. I waited until the food grew cold and lost its color. Then a friend texted me. Austin’s back. On a strange impulse, I went to Victoria’s Instagram and opened her ‘following’ list. It was easy to find him. A minute ago, he had posted. [Finally back home. Surrounded by my love and my friends.] In the photo, he was pressed close to Victoria, both of them looking at the camera, surrounded by her closest friends. Friends who, in three years of marriage, Victoria had never once introduced to me. Whenever I’d tried to get to know her circle, she’d dismissed them as a “bad influence” and changed the subject. After a while, I stopped asking. I scrolled further back. I saw that for years, they had been in constant, intimate contact. The university he attended abroad? She had arranged it. The apartment he lived in? It was in her name. Even the steady stream of charges from high-end boutiques and five-star hotels on his European getaways—she had paid for it all. I never knew Victoria’s famous thoughtfulness could be so easily transferred to someone else. That night, I scraped everything from the dinner table into a garbage bag and took it outside for the stray cats. Click. The guest room door opened. I rolled over, shutting my eyes tight. The mattress dipped beside me. A chill ran down my spine as Victoria slipped under the covers. My body went rigid, my hands clenched into fists against my chest. A moment later, an arm snaked around my waist, and a warm body pressed against my back. A wave of revulsion washed over me. I shot upright, flicking on the bedside lamp. The sudden glare made Victoria squint. She sat up, her expression turning sour. 2 We grew up together in the same upscale neighborhood, Evergreen Hills. Our relationship felt inevitable. The summer after high school graduation, she confessed her feelings for me. It was more of a formality; we both knew where it was headed, and we fell into a relationship with ease. But that was also the year my mother brought home a boy a year younger than me—her illegitimate son. My father had been dead for less than six months. The woman I had known as a gentle, loving wife and mother was suddenly a monster wearing a familiar mask. We had a terrible fight. I told her this house wasn’t big enough for both of us. It was Austin or me. She just gave me a cold, hard look. “Do what you want.” I took the money my father had left me, packed a few changes of clothes, and walked out. I arranged for a dorm room at the university and never spoke to my family again. A year later, thanks to a hefty donation from my mother, Austin enrolled at my university. He was all smiles to my face, but behind my back, he played petty games, poisoning my relationships with friends and classmates. He even used my mother’s connections to squeeze me out of my position in the student government, then sauntered over to gloat about it. I never cared. Anything or anyone that could be so easily taken from me wasn’t worth having in the first place. And there was one person he could never take, no matter how hard he tried. Victoria. Austin pursued her relentlessly, even making a public declaration of his love for her. He befriended everyone in her circle just to keep tabs on her schedule, engineering “coincidental” run-ins at the library, the dining hall, the gym. He kept a gushing “secret love diary” on his blog, detailing every glance and word from Victoria as a sign of her hidden affection. He was a moth, desperately flinging himself at a flame that wanted nothing to do with him. Victoria complained to me constantly about his creepy behavior. She publicly told him to get lost, her face a mask of ice. She wanted nothing more than to be rid of him. But Austin was persistent, an unkillable cockroach. For three years of college, he was a constant, buzzing presence in our lives. I almost started to believe he was truly, deeply in love with her. Until he came to me one day and said, “It’s only a matter of time. She’ll fall for me, and she’ll betray you.” I scoffed at him. Anyone could see how much Victoria loved me. When I was living in the dorms, she rented an off-campus apartment for us. She wanted to have every meal with me. I loved the almond croissants from a little French patisserie downtown, but they always sold out before I could get there. So Victoria, a girl who had never known a day of hardship, would get up at the crack of dawn to stand in line for me. The pastry was still warm when she handed it to me. We both loved to travel, but I was lazy about planning. She handled everything—booking hotels, mapping out sights, buying tickets, packing our bags. All I had to do was follow her. … We had a lifetime of shared memories. I couldn’t imagine her ever betraying me. After graduation, Austin went abroad to study. I thought his chapter in our lives was finally over. But his social media told a different story. In the third year of his relentless pursuit, Victoria’s attitude toward him had changed. 3 I pulled back the curtains in the guest room. The night was dark and moonless, without a single star in the sky. Victoria sat on the bed in silence. Finally, her patience wore thin. A hint of irritation crept into her voice. “What is wrong with you?” That flicker of guilt she felt had bought me this much of her forbearance. It was a new record. As her company grew, so did her temper. It had been a long time since she had tried this hard to placate me. In the past, I would have given in by now, chalking it up to her being stressed from work. But now, I was done making allowances for anyone. I turned, leaning my back against the window. “Who were you with last night?” “I told you, I had a work emergency. Who else would I be with?” she snapped back. “When did you get so paranoid?” I just looked at her, my expression unreadable. I had always believed she was devoted to me, a woman of principle. I never questioned her travel schedule, always giving her the space she needed. But she had always volunteered the information, chattering excitedly as she had me pack her bags. Only now I knew that she had taken the suitcase I’d so carefully packed for her and boarded a flight to see Austin. A flash of guilt crossed her face, but she quickly masked it with a fresh wave of indignation. “Is this an interrogation? Do you need me to call my entire team in so you can check my story?” “No need. You can go now. I need to rest.” She wouldn’t admit it. After hiding it for so many years, she wasn’t about to let it all unravel so easily. And I didn’t have the energy for a confrontation. Her infidelity was a thorn in my heart, of course. All those years of love… the pain was real. But my rational mind told me it was better to know the truth now than to live in a lie. A clean break was the best path forward. Unable to stand my coldness, Victoria stormed out, slamming the door behind her. The confrontation left me wide awake. I opened my laptop to deal with some leftover work. When I graduated from college, my mother called, begging me to come home. She had been diagnosed with brain cancer and didn’t have much time left. When I got to the hospital, she was struggling just to get out of bed for a glass of water. She was skeletal. The housekeeper told me the company had been in trouble, and my mother had worked herself into the ground, collapsing in her office. By the time they got her to the hospital, it was too late. In the face of death, all my old resentments seemed to melt away. I started to remember the happy times from my childhood. How she would lift me onto her shoulders and play horsey. How she’d come home from work with strange and wonderful snacks in her briefcase. How, when I was older and she had more time, she would spend hours in the kitchen, making a rich, savory fish soup just for me. … She had wronged my father, but she had, in her own way, loved me very much. I took over the failing company. My life became a relentless cycle between the office and the hospital. And Austin, after going abroad, was never heard from again. 4 The next morning, I dressed and left the bedroom early, hoping to avoid Victoria. But my luck had run out. As I stepped out, she was placing a bowl of oatmeal on the dining table. It was as if last night’s fight had never happened. She smiled and waved me over for breakfast. Then, she walked toward me and pulled a small box from her pocket. Inside was a watch. Another custom piece from a master watchmaker. She’d given me one every year for the past three years. All to cover the long, pale scar that ran across my left wrist. It happened just before we got married. We were scouting a project in a remote mountain village. On the way back, the car’s brakes failed on a steep descent. We went careening down the slope, crashing into a large tree that stopped us from flipping into a ravine. The driver’s side took the full impact. Victoria was knocked unconscious instantly. My door was jammed shut. I had to use my tablet to smash the window and crawl out. Victoria was slumped over the steering wheel, her face covered in blood. Both our phones were smashed. I managed to drag her from the wreck, and in the process, a piece of torn metal from the car door sliced deep into my wrist, leaving the scar that was now a permanent part of me. The road was deserted. I had no choice but to carry her, to drag her, falling again and again, until we finally reached a main road where a passing driver called for an ambulance. I collapsed from exhaustion right there on the pavement. When I woke up, Victoria was by my hospital bed, her eyes bloodshot. Soon after we were discharged, she proposed. I had always been so confident in our love. It never occurred to me that her proposal wasn’t born from love, but from guilt. I took off the old watch. She instinctively reached out to put the new one on. I pulled my hand away, gently tracing the raised, uneven line of flesh on my wrist. “Don’t. I’m not wearing them anymore.” Her hand, holding the new watch, froze. “Why?” “I don’t like them.” Victoria was speechless. I had never liked wearing watches; they felt like shackles. I only wore them because she had gone to such great lengths to have them made. Now, there was no reason to wear one at all. I pressed the old watch back into her hand and went to the foyer to put on my coat. “Leo.” I turned back. Her expression was complicated, her words caught in her throat. “Maybe… I could pick you up from work today.” I rolled my eyes, opened the door, and left. 5 At the office, my assistant, Liam, was acting strangely, hovering around me nervously. It wasn’t until the elevator reached my floor that he finally stammered it out. “Mr. Hayes… Mr. Evans is waiting for you in your office.” Mr. Evans was a major shareholder in the company and a man my mother had trusted implicitly. Liam’s nervousness was out of place. Something else was going on. I nodded to show I understood and pushed open my office door. Mr. Evans was standing in front of my desk. And sitting in my chair—my chair—was Austin. A mocking smile played on his lips. “Brother. I’m back. Aren’t you going to welcome me?” “You didn’t even come back to see Mom before she died. What are you doing here now?” Austin picked up a framed photo of me from the desk, studied it for a moment, and then let it slip from his fingers. It shattered on the floor. He walked over to me, his eyes glinting with malice. “Oh, I wanted to come back. But Mom told me not to, unless Mr. Evans called for me.” Mr. Evans smiled kindly and gestured for me to sit on the sofa. As if I were the visitor. “Leo,” he began, “before she passed, your mother entrusted me with her will. She instructed me to wait until the company was back on stable ground before making it public.” “Now that the company is thriving, the time has come. You and Austin are her only sons. In consideration of Austin not being with her for most of his life, your mother decided that he will inherit the company. You will inherit the family home and 5% of the company’s shares.” The heat was on in the office, but a chill crept up my spine. My body felt the pain and betrayal before my mind could even process it. I watched Mr. Evans’s mouth move, but the words were a dull roar in my ears. I mechanically took the will. The handwriting was hers. From somewhere, Austin produced a small audio recorder, his eyes filled with venom as he pressed play. My mother’s voice, weak but clear, filled the room. “The company is in bad shape. You stay abroad and focus on your studies. Don’t come back. Your Uncle Evans will wire money to your account. When your brother has rebuilt the company, he will call you back at the right time to take over. If the company fails… then you definitely shouldn’t come back. As long as you stay away, the debts won’t find you. The money I’ve left you will be enough to last a lifetime.” “Mom is gone now. You have to learn to take care of yourself. Find someone who will truly love you.” Before she died, my mother had gripped my hand and told me the company was her and my father’s life’s work. She made me promise to bring it back from the brink of death. I promised her I would. For that promise, I had hustled for clients, begged for investments, worked myself to the bone. I had humbled myself at endless dinners, navigated a world of sharks and sycophants. I had worked until I ended up in the emergency room, answering emails with an IV drip in my arm. … After countless sleepless nights, I had dragged the company back from the abyss. And now, they were telling me that everything I had fought for was nothing but a joke. So much for the idea that people’s final words are always true. I fled to the restroom and stood there for a long time, waiting for my hands to stop shaking. When I returned to the office, I was completely calm. “I want the 5% of shares liquidated at today’s market value and transferred to my account. Along with all the salary, bonuses, and dividends I am owed for the past several years. I want it done immediately.” Austin looked at me, a flicker of disbelief in his eyes. This was not the breakdown he had been hoping for. Mr. Evans hesitated. “That’s not possible today. It has to go through the proper channels.” “You have one hour,” I said, my voice level. “I’m sure you wouldn’t want any… reputation-damaging stories about the company to appear online, would you?” I had rebuilt this company with my own two hands. I knew its every strength and every weakness. If I wanted to, I could send it spiraling back to where it was years ago. I wouldn’t do it—too many good people’s livelihoods depended on it. But they didn’t know that. They couldn’t take that risk. Sure enough, a few minutes later, Mr. Evans called an employee into the office. An hour later, a string of transaction notifications lit up my phone. I picked up my bag and walked to the door. An annoying voice called out from behind me. “Leo. Victoria will be mine, too.” I turned and looked at his triumphant face. In that moment, he just looked pathetic. Desperately trying to prove his worth, to feel like he existed. It was the mark of a profoundly insecure man. I smiled, my voice laced with indifference. “Whatever.” The color drained from his face.

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On my wedding day, I suddenly developed the ability to read minds. I was listening to my husband’s heart as he smiled, gently taking my hand to place the ring on my finger. Lyle Whitman sends over this sacrificial lamb and thinks he can just walk away with the Sterling project? He’s dreaming. My head snapped up, my eyes wide with shock. My hand trembled so violently that the ring slipped from his grasp, clattering onto the floor. Daniel looked at me, his expression a mask of tender apology, as if it were all his fault. Clumsy oaf. Born to be slaughtered. 1 The wedding had been arranged just three days ago, a decision made by my stepfather, Lyle Whitman. His company was teetering on the edge of a cliff, its cash flow frozen solid, bankruptcy breathing down his neck. Desperate to resurrect his failing business, Lyle had been pulling every string he could, trying to marry me off to secure a financial lifeline. He’d used my mother as leverage, forcing me to meet six different men in the span of two weeks. There was a fifty-year-old pig in a suit, greasy and obese; a sadistic trust-fund brat with a violent streak; and a mogul with a wife in New York and mistresses scattered across the country. They were all willing to take me, but none of them offered a price high enough to satisfy Lyle. Until Daniel Thorne appeared. He made Lyle an offer that made his eyes gleam with greed. The one condition: the wedding had to be within three days. Lyle agreed instantly, practically tripping over himself in his haste to deliver me to Daniel’s bed that very night. But Daniel, surprisingly, wasn’t in such a rush. He insisted on following every pre-wedding custom, step by step. He even made sure we were legally married before the ceremony. So, until this very moment, I had seen him as a perfect gentleman—polished, handsome, and deeply respectful. I had even allowed myself to believe in love at first sight, a fairytale I desperately wanted to be true. Until I heard the chilling truth echoing in his mind. He hadn’t married me for love. He’d married me to set a trap, a meticulously planned scheme to ruin my stepfather. This was a war between titans, and I was just a pawn on their board. 2 The ceremony continued, oblivious to the storm raging inside me. Cheerful, romantic music filled the air, and every face in the crowd was wreathed in smiles. Especially Daniel’s. He took my hand, his body bending in a graceful arc as his long, elegant fingers retrieved the fallen ring. As he looked up, his eyes were deep pools of devotion. “I’m so sorry,” he murmured, his voice a velvet caress. “I wasn’t holding it properly. I’ve troubled you, my dear.” This whole charade is dragging on forever. I mechanically straightened my finger, letting the cold metal slide into place. The sound of my own gulp was so loud, I was sure it cut through the music. When it was my turn to place his ring, I was a bundle of nerves, my movements cautious and fawning. “Mr.… Mr. Thorne, if you’re busy, you can leave. I can handle the reception toasts by myself.” My sudden, docile compliance seemed to catch him off guard. A flicker of confusion crossed his features before it was washed away by that practiced, charming smile. “Nothing is more important than our wedding,” he said, his voice smooth as silk. “Come, let’s go.” He took my hand and led me to face our friends and family, raising a champagne flute in a toast. Playing games with me? We’ll see about that when we get home. My heart sank. 3 My attempt to curry favor had spectacularly backfired. I spent the rest of the reception in a state of terrified silence, moving like a puppet on a string. After the festivities, I was whisked away to our new home, the bridal suite. The room was a cliché of newlywed bliss, dripping with the kind of opulence only serious money can buy. It had everything a lavish wedding demanded. Except people. The five-story mansion was a hollow, echoing shell. Not a single soul was present. It was clear a “pawn” like me wasn’t expected to just sit around prettily, waiting for the groom’s return. I found my suitcase in the second-floor bedroom, changed into a comfortable set of sweats, and scrubbed the thick makeup from my face. A long, hot shower washed away the last vestiges of the charade. Feeling refreshed and seeing the sky darken, I made my way to the kitchen. Over the years, trailing my mother through her three marriages, my culinary skills had become my most developed talent. With each new husband, she would lose herself in a whirlwind of romance and hedonism, leaving me to fill the role of the unpaid housekeeper. Some of my stepfathers, however, weren’t content with just a housekeeper. They’d wait until my mother was out, and their hands would start to wander. Lyle was one of them. Which is why, after learning of Daniel’s true intentions, a small, dark part of me was actually looking forward to the show. Love from a man was irrelevant. Usefulness was all that mattered. 4 The kitchen was barren. Not even a bottle of water. I did a quick tour of the mansion and came to a simple conclusion: Daniel wasn’t coming back tonight. And he intended for me to go hungry. I had some money on my phone and could have easily ordered takeout. But that would shatter the “helpless idiot” persona I apparently projected. Arousing the suspicion of a man as sharp and calculating as Daniel would be a fatal mistake. I put my phone away and returned to the bridal suite. On a small table, four small dishes of dried fruits and nuts were arranged, a traditional wedding touch. I scooped a pocketful of dates and almonds, went downstairs, and boiled a pot of water. The living room was a sea of crimson silk and satin, but the garish color only amplified the cold emptiness of the space. Assuming I was alone for the night, I kicked off my shoes, propped my feet up on the plush leather sofa, and settled in with a cup of hot water and a handful of wedding snacks. Just as I was starting to relax, a voice popped into my head, dripping with condescension. The little fool must be crying her eyes out by now. 5 Suddenly, the water and dates lost their flavor. Scrambling before Daniel could walk in, I shoved the snacks into a drawer beneath the coffee table and splashed some of the warm water from my cup onto my face to mimic tears. The front door creaked open. I turned, my expression carefully crafted into one of pure, pathetic misery. A smug, silent laugh echoed in his mind. He approached, his movements fluid and graceful, a gentle, concerned smile playing on his lips as he leaned down. Just as I thought… any minute now, she’ll break and call Lyle. That, I couldn’t do. Lyle was just like him—a gentleman on the surface, a monster underneath. Calling him for help was out of the question. But I had to sell the performance. I let my lower lip tremble and squeezed my eyes shut, willing tears to come. Then, I heard Daniel’s inner voice, laced with disgust: What the hell is that stuck on her tooth? His gaze immediately shot to the coffee table in front of me. A small trickle of water was seeping from a crack in the wood. He reached for the drawer. In a flash, I shot to my feet. “I want to go home to my mom!” Daniel’s hand froze. His expression was one of mild confusion. His inner voice was pure schadenfreude: Hah. Scared her so badly she’s talking nonsense. Alright, then. I’d play along. “There’s no one here,” I whimpered. “I’m scared. I want to go back to my house.” Daniel’s mind: From now on, you’re not taking a single step out of this house. Me: …House arrest? Outwardly, he took my hand, his touch surprisingly gentle, and sat beside me on the sofa. “Isla, we’re newlyweds. You can’t go back to your parents’ house just yet. And look, I’m here now, aren’t I?” I decided to test the waters. “Will… will you be leaving again?” “I’ll stay with you,” Daniel promised, his voice a soothing balm. Just wait. Soon you’ll be begging me to leave. 6 I instinctively clutched my clothes tighter. What the hell is he planning to do? Daniel blinked, his eyes practically overflowing with manufactured tenderness. “Are you cold?” He made a move to take off his suit jacket. Ugly creature. You really think I’d touch you? Hah. You dream just as big as your stepfather. Well, thank God for that. I wasn’t interested either. I let out a huge sigh of relief and grabbed his jacket before he could take it off. “I’m not cold. I’m just… I’m just a little hungry.” A wave of triumphant laughter roared in his mind. His words, however, were laced with pity. “Hungry? Oh, that is a problem. We’re quite far from the city, and there are no restaurants around here. The kitchen…” “The kitchen is empty,” I finished for him. I watched him struggle to hide a satisfied smirk and felt a sudden urge to twist his head off. After “comforting” me, Daniel went upstairs to shower. Before he left, he gave me one last, “soulful” look and whispered, “Wait for me.” I smiled back. Bring it on, I thought, answering his silent scheming. I’m not afraid of you.

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My author girlfriend, Sonia, in another fit of writer’s block, swept the dinner I’d handmade for her off the table. Just then, text floated into my vision, shimmering like a heat haze: 【She regretted it the moment she did it. Look at the guilt in her eyes… my heart is breaking.】 【If he just goes and hugs her now, she’ll be so moved.】 Sonia… felt guilty? Moved by me? Mustering my courage, I gently brushed my fingers against hers. “It’s okay. Do you want me to make you something else?” Her eyes, when they met mine, were chips of ice. “What, are you addicted to playing maid for me, you useless trash? Can’t you see I’m pissed off right now? Get lost!” She shoved me away with her foot. Staring at the palm of my hand, now pierced by shards of broken porcelain, a profound sense of exhaustion washed over me. This one-man show… I was tired of it. … I said nothing, just quietly retrieved the first-aid kit and began bandaging my hand. 【You can see the pain in her eyes, she’s heartbroken for him…】 【Just give in already! She’ll definitely apologize and help you with that cut!】 【She’s a born loner, bad at communicating. Can’t this useless boyfriend at least open his mouth?】 I glanced at Sonia. She still wore that same cold expression, as if the world owed her a million dollars. There wasn’t a hint of concern in her face. It was laughable that I’d actually believed the floating comments. Just as my heart was turning to stone, Sonia pushed her laptop towards me. “It won’t turn on. Take a look.” This was her usual way of making peace—she never apologized directly. But this time, I wasn’t going to play along. I pushed the laptop back. “I’m your maid, not your IT guy. Find someone else.” 【This guy is such a jerk! She’s already extending an olive branch, what’s his problem?】 【A genius author is willing to humble herself for him, and he’s still not satisfied? I hope she dumps this loser!】 She bit her lip, then deliberately stepped barefoot into the broken porcelain on the floor. “There,” she said, her voice tight. “Can you forgive me now?” My breath hitched. I rushed forward, sweeping her up into my arms to clean the wound. “Sonia! Are you insane?” Seeing her hurt, I couldn’t help it. My heart still ached for her despite myself. Ignoring the stream of digital abuse floating in the air, I held her close. That night, her protégé, Cox, sent me a text. She was drunk, he said. I needed to come pick her up. I rushed to the private room at the bar, only to find Sonia perfectly sober, complaining to her friends about me, her “free live-in maid.” Her friends laughed, asking her to find them one, too. Sonia shook her head, her tone serious. “You couldn’t.” A wave of relief washed over me. “You could never find one that pathetic!” she crowed. “Honestly, whenever I’m mad, all I have to do is play the victim, and he comes crawling right back.” The comments exploded. 【She’s so good to him! She’s willing to let a loser like him be her personal assistant just to keep him by her side!】 【She’s just saying that! She was bragging about how great he was at first, then got scared her friends would try to steal him, so she started putting him down!】 I felt none of the love the comments were deciphering. I just felt like a joke. A chill ran through me, rooting me to the spot. It wasn’t until I met Cox’s mocking gaze that I snapped out of it and pushed the door open. Sonia tensed when she saw me. “You heard that?” I nodded, and she said, with a dismissive wave, “It was just a joke. Don’t take it seriously.” The last flicker of hope in my heart died. She was a genius author, clueless about everything outside of writing. To take care of her, I had given up everything. And in return, I was her free maid, the punchline to a joke for her friends’ amusement. A bitter laugh escaped me. “Was it really just a joke, Sonia? Or was it what you truly think?” She said nothing, her jaw tight as if holding something back. 【He’s being such an ass. She already explained, why is he still throwing a fit!】 【She’s about to cry… Can we get a new main character, someone more considerate?】 【Yeah, Cox seems pretty nice.】 Cox, as if summoned by the comments, stormed over and grabbed my collar. “You’re going too far, man! I told you she was out with us tonight. You didn’t have to come here and check up on her!” Rage flared in my chest. I swung my fist, connecting squarely with his jaw. “You’re the one who—” “Enough!” Before I could finish, Sonia threw her arms out, shielding Cox with her body. “This is between us! Don’t drag other people into it!” I stepped toward her instinctively. “He’s the one trying to cause trouble!” She thought I was going to hurt her precious protégé. She shoved me hard, sending me stumbling to the floor. Then she grabbed the thermos of soup I’d brought for her and hurled it at me. “Don’t you dare touch him!” Stars exploded behind my eyes. I took a deep, shuddering breath and asked her one last time, “Are you really choosing to attack me, for him?” Her hands were clenched into fists. She said nothing. 【She was clearly just trying to stop a fight from breaking out! How can he be mad about that?】 【I feel so bad for her… no good deed goes unpunished!】 Was that really it? Just then, Cox dropped to his knees in front of me. Facing away from the others, a sly grin spread across his face, but his voice was thick with tears. “I’m so sorry! This is all my fault for meddling!” Sonia gently helped him up. “It’s not your fault. You don’t have to apologize.” Once he was on his feet, she pointed a finger at me, her voice ringing with fury. “He’s the one who should be apologizing!” The woman who had just spoken so softly to her protégé was now looking at me with absolute contempt. “Apologize!” she demanded. “If you don’t, we’re breaking up.” I was frozen. She was going to break up with me over another man. 【Don’t do it! She doesn’t mean it!】 【Just say you’re sorry! She’ll forgive you if you just apologize!】 There it was again. The comments, always using her supposed hidden love to emotionally blackmail me. I was always the one apologizing. This time, I was done. Looking at Sonia’s cold, expectant face, I gave a calm nod. “Fine. Let’s break up.” Her breath hitched. She shook her head slightly, as if in disbelief. I took the other container out of the insulated bag I’d brought. “Drinking on an empty stomach is bad for you,” I said, holding it out. “I made you a late-night snack.” A smug smile touched her lips, a look that said, I knew it. One of her friends whispered, “Jeez, I thought he was actually going to break up with her. He just came crawling back again.” “Who else would want a loser like him?” Sonia looked triumphant as she reached for the container. “Hmph. Fine, I forgive you this time. But next time, don’t you dare—” Just as her fingers were about to touch it, I pulled my hand back. Right in front of her, I tipped the contents directly into the trash can. “I figured you wouldn’t need food made by a useless maid.” She stomped her foot in fury. “Fine! Be a dog with some pride, then! Once you’re gone, don’t you dare come back!” As I walked away, I heard one of her friends ask, “Shit, you think he’s really not coming back this time?” Sonia’s voice was nonchalant. “Don’t worry. He’ll come crawling back within three days. A parasite like him… how could he ever leave me?” After I left, I called my father. “Well, well. Decided you can spare a moment for your old man? Wasn’t it you who cut off the family for that woman?” “Dad,” I said, my voice cracking despite myself as the weight of my wasted years hit me. “I was wrong.” I took a deep breath, the decision finally solidifying. “Dad, I’ll do it. I’ll agree to the alliance with the Langleys.” My father sighed on the other end of the line. “Good. It’s not too late for you to wake up. Isabelle is a good girl. Don’t you dare fail her.” After hanging up, I started packing my things. I was struck by how little I actually owned in this apartment. I used to buy little trinkets to decorate the place, telling myself it was to make it feel more like a home. In reality, it was a desperate attempt to assert my own existence here. In the eyes of her friends, I was just a roommate they could ignore. Gradually, my little decorations had filled every corner. Until the day Cox stayed over and casually remarked, “Sonia, your taste is terrible.” The next day, she threw all of my things out, telling me never to buy such useless junk again. Later, she asked me why all the gifts she’d given me had disappeared, wondering if I was so broke that I’d secretly sold them. I just nodded and took the blame, never telling her she was the one who had thrown them all away. As I was about to leave, the door opened, and I came face to face with Sonia. Cox was right behind her. A smirk played on her lips. “What’s this? Weren’t you breaking up with me? Why are you still here, clinging to my apartment like a stray?” I ignored them and tried to push my suitcase past. But Sonia grabbed the handle, blocking my way. “Stop. Open the suitcase. I need to check it.” I froze. This Sonia felt like a stranger. “What do you mean? You think I’m a thief?” 【He’s so dense! She obviously doesn’t want him to leave! This is her way of keeping him there!】 【She even brought Cox back to apologize, and this guy doesn’t appreciate it at all…】 Keeping me here? Apologizing? I shook my head, a bitter taste in my mouth. The scorn in her eyes said it all. They opened the suitcase and tore through my belongings, turning everything upside down. “Are you done?” I asked, my voice cold. Just then, Cox pulled out a dress shirt from the bottom of the case. “Sonia, look at this…” Sonia glanced at it, and then her hand cracked across my face. “I was wondering where this shirt went! So you’re the one who stole it!” I held my cheek, stunned and hurt. “What are you talking about? You gave that to me for my birthday!” Sonia let out a sharp, derisive laugh. “Are you deaf? I just told you to try it on, not that it was yours!” A wave of sadness washed over me. “And I thought it was the first real gift you’d ever given me.” Meeting Cox’s mocking gaze, I answered calmly, “If it’s yours, then you can have it back.” Just like I’m giving you back, I thought. But my answer didn’t satisfy her. She threw the shirt in my face. “Have it back? It’s already filthy. How can I take it back?” “Filthy?” I started to explain. “I’ve never even worn it—” Her eyes were filled with disgust. “Anything you touch is filthy, you useless waste of space.” 【This guy is so pathetic. He steals a gift and makes her clean up his mess.】 【Even I understood that. She just meant that Cox is a germaphobe.】 While I was still processing the floating comments, Cox suddenly lunged forward and dumped the entire contents of my suitcase onto the floor. “Sonia, let me help you check if he stole anything else!” And then he found it. His eyes lit up when he saw the small, velvet ring box. He presented it to Sonia like a prize. She stomped her foot. “So you really are addicted to stealing!” She snatched the box and ripped it open, only to freeze when she saw the 10-carat diamond ring inside. Then she scoffed. “A loser like you could afford a diamond ring? Where did you steal this from?” My hands trembled at my sides. But I managed to keep my voice steady. “I bought that with my own savings. It’s an engagement ring. I was planning to propose to you tomorrow night, at seven, at the International Grand Hotel.” She gave me a suspicious look. “Is it secondhand? Or fake?” I never imagined that her first reaction to an engagement ring would be that. I was shaking with rage. “Are we done here?” I bit out. She grunted, then nodded with a look of satisfaction, as if I had finally learned my place. She kicked my scattered belongings toward me. “Well, if you’re going to propose, then stop with this drama. Clean up the house like a good boy and wait for me to come home for dinner. I’m going with Cox to get you a proper gift.” 【She’s all talk! She’s obviously going to get him an engagement gift!】 【This loser is finally acting like a human being. It’s a good thing Sonia was willing to sleep at Cox’s last night just to give him some space to cool down.】 【She was crying on Cox’s shoulder all night… I’m so glad her suffering is finally over.】 Reading the scrolling text, I couldn’t help but laugh, a hollow, bitter sound. So she had been cheating on me all along. And I, like a fool, had been played by both her and these phantom words of love. I turned away, not wanting her to see the devastation on my face. She didn’t even glance at me. She just linked her arm through Cox’s and started to leave. Before she closed the door, she reminded me to buy extra groceries. “Cox is staying for dinner tonight. Consider it your apology to him.” As if I were truly her maid, and not the man who loved her. Using the last ounce of strength I had, I said, “Sonia, I’m done.” She didn’t even pause. The only reply was the slam of the door.

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A simple outpatient procedure. That’s all it took to kill my mother. My father, a leading expert in medical malpractice, personally handled the review. The official conclusion: my mother had secretly eaten before the operation, leading to fatal complications. The hospital and the lead surgeon were cleared of all responsibility. When he told me the results, my father’s eyes were bloodshot, his voice trembling with self-reproach. “I’m to blame for this, too, Ava,” he’d choked out. “I should have watched her more closely before the surgery.” He added, “But the surgeon was my star pupil. Her skills are impeccable.” After the dust settled, I went to claim my mother’s body. What I received was a hollowed-out shell, most of her organs harvested. My father’s prized protégé, Lana Wells, produced an organ donation form, supposedly signed by my mother beforehand. I looked at the clumsy forgery and laughed. The next day, I started a global livestream. The title was: “Live Masterclass: Human Anatomy by a University Professor.” Except this time, the subject on the table was very much alive. It was my father’s star pupil, Lana Wells. 1 The broadcast, hosted by the youngest professor at the nation’s top medical university, went viral instantly. The viewer count skyrocketed past one hundred thousand. On the cold, gleaming steel of the dissection table, Lana Wells was strapped down like an animal for slaughter, stripped bare. Her wrists and ankles were bound, a thick cloth gagged her mouth. In stark contrast, I was dressed in full surgical attire, every professional instrument laid out, ready for a live dissection. Realization of what was about to happen dawned in her eyes. A terrified, muffled whimper escaped her throat. The livestream chat exploded as viewers understood they were watching a living person on the table. [Wait, WHAT?! Is she alive? This is straight-up murder!] [Alive? I thought I was seeing things!] [Look! She’s moving!] [This is horrific. I can’t watch.] A collective gasp went through the audience. The tension was palpable. But no one was more tense than Dr. Marcus Thorne, my father. Because the person I was about to dissect was his beloved protégé. On a screen in my lab, his face was projected, neck craned, his complexion a deep, panicked red. “Ava! What in God’s name are you doing?” he yelled. “Let Lana go, right now!” “I’ve already been through the official review! The surgery failed because your mother ate beforehand. The food aspirated into her lungs, and she suffocated. It had nothing to do with Lana!” I glanced up at his frantic face on the monitor and let out a cold, humorless laugh. “The daughter of a medical dynasty, forgetting the number one rule of pre-op? Don’t eat or drink?” I said, my voice dangerously calm. “You underestimate her.” “Or,” I added, my eyes locking onto the camera, “do you just think I’m an idiot?” I picked up a scalpel from the tray, its edge catching the light with a sterile glint. I pressed the tip gently against Lana’s abdomen. The chat erupted in fury. [This isn’t a masterclass, it’s a vendetta! Your mom died in a surgical accident, the surgeon didn’t murder her! What gives you the right?!] [The medical review was conclusive. You’re just in denial, taking it out on the surgeon. Who the hell do you think you are!] [Dr. Thorne is a renowned expert! He reviewed his own wife’s case and admitted it was the patient’s fault. What more do you want?!] [Your mom died because she was stupid. Everyone knows you don’t eat before surgery. It’s common sense!] [Exactly. And a mother like that raised a professor at a top university? Who would ever trust a doctor taught by her?!] The internet mob was almost unanimously on his side, their digital pitchforks aimed squarely at me. I ignored them. Gripping the scalpel, I made a clean, decisive incision across Lana’s stomach. The wet, tearing sound of flesh parting filled the stream’s audio feed. The viewers lost their minds. [Call the cops! She’s killing her!] [Someone get a location trace on this stream! Now!] But their hopes faded quickly. My lab was in a remote, overseas location. Triangulating my position would involve a mountain of international red tape. Enough time, I thought, to take Lana apart piece by piece. As I pulled the incision open like a zipper, I leaned down, my voice a cold whisper in her ear. “Where did you start when you harvested my mother’s organs? The heart, was it? And the corneas last?” I smiled. “That’s no fun. Let’s do it in reverse.” I raised the scalpel, aiming for Lana’s eye. That’s when Marcus Thorne finally broke. “Wait!” he screamed. “Stop! I have something to say!” 2 The blade froze, a hair’s breadth from Lana’s tear-filled, terrified eye. On the screen, my father’s face was ashen, his breathing ragged. He swallowed hard, beads of sweat trickling down his temple. “Your mother… she ate before the surgery on purpose,” he stammered. “Because… because she didn’t want to live anymore.” “She had depression!” “She didn’t have the courage to end her own life, so she forced someone else’s hand!” His voice, now laced with a tearful, dramatic tremor, began a masterful performance for the hundred thousand viewers. “Ava, my dear, I never dared to tell you,” he sobbed, his words catching in his throat. “Your mother suffered from depression for years. Every day was agony for her…” “But I never, ever thought she would choose to end it all on the eve of her surgery.” His tears were perfectly timed, landing like emotional bombshells in the chat. [I’m actually crying. What a noble man. Dr. Thorne has been through so much for his wife and daughter.] [He’s one of the good ones. A hospital director, a top expert, and so devoted to his family. It’s a tragedy he was cursed with such a foolish wife and a deranged daughter.] [Am I the only one who doesn’t get it? If you want to die, just do it. Why drag the surgeon down with you?] [Seriously. That poor doctor had the worst luck in the world getting assigned to her case.] The flood of online sympathy for him threatened to drown me. But I just smiled. Holding Lana’s head steady, I made a swift, precise cut and removed her cornea. Blood sprayed across my face, a grotesque, crimson mask. The chat exploded again. [She’s a monster! Pure evil! She should be drawn and quartered!] [What is wrong with you?! Your mother is dead, why are you torturing someone else?!] [Oh my God, someone please save that poor doctor!] I casually tossed the cornea onto the floor and ground it into a pulp under my heel, just to be sure. On the screen, Marcus Thorne’s face had gone from ashen to the color of death. He shot up from his chair, slamming his fist on the desk. “AVA! YOU’RE INSANE!” “WHAT MORE DO I HAVE TO SAY TO MAKE YOU BELIEVE ME?!” “Let her go! LET HER GO!” Seeing their beloved Dr. Thorne so heartbroken sent his online cheerleaders into a frenzy. [If someone doesn’t stop this psycho, a brilliant talent that Dr. Thorne spent years mentoring will be lost forever.] [Such a waste. She was the star pupil of an expert! Destined to be one of the best in her field, and now she’s going to die at the hands of this maniac!] [Dr. Thorne must be in agony.] [Forget Dr. Thorne, I’m in agony watching this.] [You crazy bitch, let her go!] Their screams were useless. My scalpel wasn’t listening. Its tip drifted slowly toward Lana’s other eye. A low, sinister laugh rumbled in my chest. “Still not telling the truth, are we?” As my words faded, the pressure of the blade increased, about to pierce her other eye. “Ava!” Suddenly, a familiar voice, thick with anguish, cut through the chaos. I looked up. It was Mrs. Gable. The old housekeeper who had served my mother for decades. She was more of a grandmother to me than anyone. “Mrs. Gable?” I froze, the scalpel in my hand finally faltering. She rushed toward the camera on their end, her face stained with tears. In her hands, she held a pile of prescription bottles—antidepressants. She dumped them all out in front of the lens. “Ava, listen to me!” she cried. “Your father… he isn’t lying! Your mother was depressed. For a very long time.” 3 My hand, usually rock-steady with a blade, trembled uncontrollably. Beneath the tip of my scalpel, Lana sucked in a sharp, terrified breath as fat tears rolled from her remaining eye. I straightened up, my own eyes welling with tears. But I blinked them back, forcing the moisture away, my gaze hardening as I stared back at the camera. “Mrs. Gable,” I said, my voice dangerously low. “How much did he pay you? How much did it take for you to betray the woman you watched grow up?” “She was like your own daughter!” I slammed my hand on the instrument tray. “What happened to you?” Mrs. Gable’s face went pale. Her mouth opened, but no words came out. Marcus seized the opportunity. “Ava, you have to accept reality!” he pleaded. “Mrs. Gable has shown you the proof! Why are you still so delusional?” I stared at the collection of pill bottles on the screen. They were pristine, unopened, some still in their pharmacy bags. A bitter laugh escaped my lips. “The daughter of the Crawford medical dynasty, whose first lesson in life was to cherish it above all else,” I began, my voice rising with each word. “The woman who told me every single day, ‘As long as you’re alive, there’s hope. Never, ever give up on your life.’” “You expect me to believe a woman like that wanted to die?” As my fury peaked, my hand shot out. With surgical precision, I carved out Lana’s other cornea. Even with the gag, she let out a piercing, guttural scream. The dark, twisted heart in her chest hammered against her ribs as if trying to break free. The gruesome act sent the livestream into another meltdown. [She’s lost it! Completely insane! A medical genius is now blind because of this monster! This is unforgivable!] [How have they not found this psycho yet?! Somebody save Dr. Wells!] [SHE TOLD YOU YOUR MOM KILLED HERSELF! ARE YOU DEAF?!] [Do you have a persecution complex? Your mom committed suicide, and you just have to find someone to blame? If you can’t handle her death, go join her! Stop destroying other people’s lives!] As always, I ignored the digital noise, my eyes once again fixed on the screen, cold and menacing. “Dr. Thorne, if you don’t start telling the truth, her kidney is next.” “Can you really bear to watch your star pupil be dismantled, piece by piece?” I tilted my head, a predatory smile playing on my lips. Marcus Thorne clenched his jaw so hard the muscles in his face quivered. I kept smiling. “I’m starting the countdown.” “Ten. Nine. Eight…” His face grew even paler. “What is wrong with you! I’m telling you the truth!” “Five. Four. Three…” Panic flashed in his eyes. “I’ll say it again, let Lana go!” “Two. One…” I raised the scalpel, my gaze dropping to Lana’s exposed abdomen. “Ava!” A weathered, urgent voice echoed through the speakers. A voice that stopped my hand mid-air. “Professor Albright?” I whispered. “What are you doing here?” 4 Appearing on the screen was the face of a man I revered. He was the one who had taught me how to hold a scalpel, who had walked me through the intricate map of the human body, who had spent countless nights with me in the lab, pushing the boundaries of medicine. Seeing him awakened a soft, vulnerable part of me I thought was long dead. I slowly lowered the scalpel, my vision blurring with tears. “Ava!” he cried, his voice laced with pain. “Don’t do this! Please, don’t be impulsive!” “Do you have any idea what you’re doing?! If you kill her, you’re not just ending her life—you’re destroying your own!” He was leaning so close to the camera it was as if he was trying to reach through the screen and stop me himself. My hand, still holding the bloody scalpel, felt impossibly heavy. My shoulders slumped. “Professor,” I said, my voice barely a whisper. “I don’t have a career anymore.” “This dissection… this will be the last procedure I ever perform.” I looked up, my eyes meeting his through the lens, filled with an unstoppable, grim resolve. Seeing my expression, he slammed his fist on the table in frustration. “You foolish girl!” “Let me tell you the truth,” he said, his voice heavy with resignation. “I was part of the review team for your mother’s case. She really did die because she ate before the surgery!” “You’ve always trusted me more than anyone, Ava. When have I ever lied to you?” The viewers pounced on his words. [See! Even your own mentor is saying it!] [That’s the final nail in the coffin. You have nothing left to say, do you? Facts are facts, and you can’t change them no matter how much you kick and scream!] [Your mother was an ignorant psycho, and so are you!] [Eating before surgery. It’s an open-and-shut case! It’s her own damn fault she’s dead!] [Give it up already and let Dr. Wells go!] The tears in my eyes vanished, replaced by a chilling cold. I looked at the screen. “Professor,” I said softly. “Can I still trust you?” “Tell me, why are you lying for him? What does he have on you?” The chat went wild again. [Oh for God’s sake! Are you serious?!] [So Mrs. Gable was bribed, and your mentor is being blackmailed? You’ve watched way too many soap operas! You’re completely delusional!] [Have you been drinking the formaldehyde?!] I tightened my grip on the scalpel and leaned close to Lana’s ear. “Time to say goodbye to a kidney,” I whispered. “Don’t worry, it won’t hurt a bit. My mother got through it. So can you.” I straightened up with a smile and moved the blade toward her abdomen. Just as the tip was about to break the tissue, Professor Albright panicked. “Ava!” he yelled. “You don’t believe me? Fine! But you have to believe your mother, don’t you?!” “You’ll believe her own words, won’t you?!” My pupils contracted. My hand stopped. Professor Albright quickly pulled out his phone and played a video. On the screen, my mother, dressed in a hospital gown, was about to be taken into surgery. Her face was pale, but her eyes, looking into the camera, were as gentle as I remembered. “Ava,” she began, her voice soft. “My sweet baby girl.” “There’s something I’ve never told you…”

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The boy who tormented me at school became my brother. By day, he’d shove me into a bathroom stall at school, his laughter echoing with my humiliation. By night, he’d sit in front of our parents, ruffling my hair with a gentle, loving smile. My nightmare had followed me home. 1 Caleb Vaughn slipped into my room at one in the morning. He stood there, hands shoved in his pockets, a look of satisfaction on his face as he watched me cower in the corner. “Good girl,” he murmured. “You didn’t lock the door tonight.” … I’d locked it yesterday. The next morning at school, he cornered me in the girls’ bathroom and cut my bra strap with a pair of scissors. Now, in the suffocating darkness of my room, he sauntered toward me. His face was a study in perfection, but when he smiled, all I saw was a demon crawling up from the abyss. He gripped my chin, his other hand moving with practiced ease to the buttons of my pajama top. His fingers paused, tracing the delicate line of my collarbone. A strange, searing heat bloomed under his touch, and I flinched, an involuntary shudder that only earned a cruel, mocking chuckle. He leaned in, his body pressing close, his breath hot against my ear. “Right here,” he whispered, the alien warmth of his voice seeping through my skin, a poison spreading through my veins. “How about we tattoo my name on you?” Panic, sharp and blinding, ripped through me. I shoved him away with all my might. He straightened up, shrugging with an air of casual indifference. “I’m just kidding.” …But every one of Caleb’s “jokes” had a way of becoming my reality. His eyes scanned my closet, landing on a simple sundress hanging on a hook. He pointed. “Wear that tomorrow.” Yes. After Caleb Vaughn became my stepbrother, he began to control everything. Even what I wore. 2 Caleb Vaughn hated me. I knew this with absolute certainty from the first day I transferred into his class. He was the student council president, a top-ten student, handsome and popular. He had the entire school eating out of the palm of his hand. Which made it terrifyingly easy for him to turn my life into a living hell. It started with social isolation. The moment everyone realized Caleb had it out for me, I became a pariah. No one would even look at me. Then, the violence began. Caleb himself rarely laid a hand on me. He didn’t have to. He had an arsenal of other, more creative ways to grind my dignity into dust, to make sure I could never hold my head high again. He took scissors to the long hair I’d been growing for years, then held my head, forcing me to watch my own shattered reflection in the mirror. He had his cronies scrawl obscene words on my desk in permanent marker, their raucous laughter filling the classroom as I tried in vain to scrub them away. The constant harassment made it impossible to focus on my studies. My grades plummeted. And they were always there, waiting for the teacher to hand back our tests, ready to shout my failing scores to the entire class. So when my dad told me the woman he was marrying had a son—and that son was Caleb Vaughn—I felt my world collapse. 3 “From now on, he’s your brother.” My dad clapped him on the shoulder, pushing him toward me. Caleb’s lips curved into that familiar, charming smile. “Caleb’s a great student,” my dad continued, oblivious. “If you have any trouble with your homework, you can just ask him.” So that night, Caleb “tutored” me. He stood behind me, leaning over the desk, his fingers brushing the edge of my paper in a gesture that was meant to look helpful. A good, caring brother. But under the table, his knuckles were pressing, slowly and deliberately, into the small of my back. “You can tell your dad everything I’ve done to you,” he whispered, his voice a low threat. “But I think you can guess what the consequences will be.” … The next morning, I didn’t wear the dress Caleb had chosen. At the breakfast table, he simply raised an eyebrow, saying nothing. He was a master of disguise, always playing the part of the perfect, well-behaved son in front of our parents. But by the front door, in the blind spot near the shoe rack, his mask slipped. He kicked the toe of my sneaker. “Didn’t I tell you to wear the dress?” “…” I bit my lip and finally looked up at him. “Why do you have to do this to me?” We were complete strangers before my dad met his mom. His hatred for me was so direct, so visceral, and it made no sense. He didn’t deign to answer. Instead, he leaned down, his eyes boring into mine. “You don’t listen?” A slow, predatory smile spread across his face. “You’re screwed.” … 4 I thought if I could just stay in the classroom, surrounded by people, I might be safe. I might escape his games for one day. I underestimated him. After morning exercises, I returned to my desk and reached into my pencil case for a pen. My fingers brushed against something soft and squirming. I peered inside, and a choked scream died in my throat. I flung the case away from me as if it were on fire. The one thing I’m terrified of—bugs. And my pencil case was filled with writhing, hairy caterpillars. Some fears are primal, a revulsion that’s both physical and psychological. For me, the mere sight of a bug is enough to make my skin crawl, my entire body break out in a cold sweat. I scrambled backward, knocking over my chair with a loud crash. I was terrified. Genuinely, gut-wrenchingly terrified. But as I huddled in the back of the room, my fear became everyone else’s entertainment. “Jesus, what was that?” “Dave, what did you put in her pencil case? Look at her, she’s freaking out.” Caleb walked in just then, a stack of papers in his hand. He saw me, and a look of mock concern crossed his face as he crouched in front of me. “Hey, you’re actually crying.” His thumb gently brushed against my eyelid, and I jerked my head away. That, apparently, was the wrong move. His fingers tightened on my jaw, forcing me to look at him. “Such a goddamn coward.” “…” For the rest of the afternoon, his friends loitered near my desk, snickering. I kept my head down, terrified they were going to plant more bugs on me. “Hey,” Caleb’s voice came from behind me as school let out. “You mad at us?” He toyed with the keychain on my backpack. “You never used to get mad, no matter what we did.” I took a deep, shuddering breath and stood, turning to face him. “Caleb, do I have some kind of history with you that I don’t know about? Why are you doing this to me?” The setting sun caught in his eyes, creating a sliver of brilliant, beautiful light. He smiled, a look of pure, gentle affection. “You’re so cute.” … Psychopath. 5 My dad raised me on his own. He always said I was too quiet, too withdrawn, that I never told him anything. He was right. I have an incredible capacity for endurance. The fact that I’d survived two years of Caleb’s relentless bullying without a complete mental breakdown was proof of that. For the most part, I had learned to ignore them. But the bugs… that had crossed a line. So when we got home, I gave him the silent treatment. His “good brother” mask started to crack. I expected an explosion, but instead, after his shower, he just walked into my room. “Tch. Still mad?” he asked, his tone laced with something I couldn’t quite decipher. I kept my head down, focusing on the math problem in front of me, and ignored him. “You know, I wasn’t the one who put the bugs in there,” he continued, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “If I’d known you were that scared of them…” He leaned closer. “…I would have made sure they appeared in a much more… exciting way. Right?” It was like a whisper from a demon’s lips. And then, to my horror, he ruffled my hair, a grin in his voice. “Problem four is wrong. No wonder you’re so stupid.” … I gritted my teeth and angrily scratched out all my work on the page. His only response was a soft, mocking laugh. 6 The next day, the boy who put the bugs in my pencil case apologized to me in front of the whole class. He stammered through his words, but the fresh bruises on his face told the real story. I kept my eyes on my textbook and didn’t look at him. My desk was still covered in the filthy words they’d written, but they’d taken it a step further. They’d given me the most broken-down desk in the classroom. It wobbled every time I tried to write. Frustrated, I pressed down harder, and it let out a loud squeak. Suddenly, a hand pressed down on the corner, steadying it. Caleb was crouching in front of me. He folded a piece of paper and wedged it under the short leg. “…” He was acting strangely these past few days. I knew better than to think he was showing me mercy. In my experience, when Caleb eased up, it just meant he was planning something much, much worse. He stood, hands in his pockets, and looked down at me. After a long moment, a slow, lazy smile spread across his face. … Today was my birthday. In previous years, it had always been a day I looked forward to. But this year, there was Caleb. That evening, our new family went out to a nice restaurant to celebrate. The cheerful atmosphere couldn’t distract me from the oppressive presence of the boy sitting next to me. Under the table, his leg kept brushing against mine, not by accident. When it was time to blow out the candles, he even reached over, his fingers giving my waist a light, playful tap. … My dad got me an e-reader. His mom gave me a necklace. And Caleb gave me a bottle of perfume. The gift box felt a little heavy, but I didn’t think anything of it at first. I never wanted a second look at anything he gave me. The moment we got home, I tossed it into a corner of my room. Until midnight, when he pushed my door open. He moved through my room with a practiced stealth that was deeply unsettling. I frowned at his smiling face. “Aren’t you going to look at my gift?” he asked, leaning casually against the doorframe. I’d already opened it at the restaurant. He must have seen the confusion on my face because he added with a smirk, “There’s a second layer.” … Caleb always knew exactly how to humiliate me. My dear brother’s birthday gift. The first layer was a bottle of perfume. The second layer was a collar. A dog collar. … I glared at him, but his smile was infuriatingly pleasant. “Custom-made. Took three months. Don’t you like it?” He strolled over, lifted the collar from the box, and held it around my neck. The cool, smooth leather brushed against my skin. He tilted his head, his smile widening. “Perfect fit.” I shoved him away. I knew this was what he wanted. He loved to see this look in my eyes. Humiliated. Furious. Helpless. The more I suffered, the more he thrived. 7 When the results of the next exam came back, I stared at the pathetic scores. I’ve never been good with numbers. Subjects like math and physics have always been a struggle. The paper had already been passed around the entire class. By the time it reached me, it was crumpled and worn. After class, the teacher called me to her office. Someone else was already there. If I was consistently second to last, he was consistently dead last. I’d barely seen his face all semester; he always kept himself hidden in the corner of the classroom. “You two are the worst in my math class,” the teacher said, her sharp gaze piercing through her glasses. “I’ve arranged for someone to help you. I expect you to study hard.” She looked at both of us. “The three of you will be a study group. If you have any questions, you ask Caleb Vaughn. Got it?” … Caleb Vaughn. The ringleader of my tormentors was now my tutor. I watched as he walked into the office, the teacher clapping him on the shoulder, her face full of hope. He just smiled and looked at me. I could already imagine it. This wasn’t a study group. This was the beginning of a new nightmare. … The afternoon sun streamed through the classroom windows. Caleb was sitting on the desk in front of me. “What the hell, man? You’re really gonna tutor these two idiots?” one of his friends joked from behind him. The other boy in our “study group,” the one who always seemed to be curled into a ball, was named Leo Roth. He was huddled in the corner now, trembling. I knew he was a frequent target of the same group of bullies. And I suspected he might have some genuine learning difficulties. “Alright, let’s look at the first problem,” Caleb said, picking up my test paper with a theatrical flourish. My attention, however, was on the boy beside me. He was shaking so badly that his desk was vibrating. “Hey.” I snapped back to reality as Caleb’s foot kicked my desk. He stood over me, long-limbed and arrogant, hands in his pockets. “Are you looking at me or at him?” “…” We locked eyes for a long moment before he broke into a grin. “One of you got a 21, the other got a 12. You two are a perfect match.” … Maybe it was Caleb’s taunts about my grades, but when my dad saw my test scores that night, he blew up. “You used to win gold medals in the math Olympiad in elementary and middle school, remember? What happened to you?!” …It was true. The awards were still hanging on my bedroom wall. But now, the sight of numbers just gave me a headache. I stared at the test paper. I knew it took me longer to understand math than other students. I couldn’t even apply the formulas correctly. Because my dad had insisted, Caleb was now in my room, officially sanctioned to tutor me. He leaned against my desk. I braced myself for another round of insults, but he just said, softly, “Ask me if you don’t understand something.” … I thought the sun must have risen in the west. Then his mom walked in with a plate of fruit. “I’m so glad to see you two getting along so well,” she said, beaming. Caleb’s mom was a kind, elegant woman who had always been incredibly nice to me. She’d told me once that Caleb had a younger sister before… but something happened. She had passed away. Because of that, she was always worried that Caleb and I wouldn’t get along. “Alright, you two study hard. Caleb, make sure you help your sister.” The moment his mother was out the door, Caleb’s face changed. He leaned over me from behind, his fingers slowly, deliberately, pinching my earlobe. “Leo Roth,” he murmured, saying the name of the trembling boy from that afternoon. “How about you seduce him?” … I couldn’t understand the twisted logic of his mind. What was he trying to achieve? “I—” The word “no” was still on my lips when he grabbed my chin. He narrowed his eyes, his thumb stroking my jaw. “If you refuse, I’ll post those pictures from the other day on the school forum.” He was talking about the pictures he took in the bathroom after he cut my bra strap. I shoved him. “Go ahead. I don’t care.” 8 I didn’t care what other people thought of me. And in the end, Caleb never posted the pictures. But he wasn’t the type to give up. A rumor started circulating that Leo and I were a couple. Then one morning, I walked into the classroom to find our names scrawled across the blackboard in huge letters, a giant heart drawn between them. The sight was met with a chorus of jeers and laughter. “Those two? Together?” “You’ve got to be kidding me.” “Look, the lovebirds.” My name became inextricably linked with Leo’s. When a teacher called on me, someone would yell out Leo’s name. During morning exercises, they would deliberately push me into him. “You know, I think he’s actually starting to like you,” Caleb said that night, crouching by my bed. “I saw him looking at you today. The tips of his ears were red.” His hand closed around my throat, the pressure slowly increasing. “But he probably doesn’t know…” His grip tightened, just enough to make my heart pound. “…that the girl he likes looks like this in front of me.” I stared at him, my eyes burning with hatred. After a long, agonizing moment, his fingers loosened, stroking the side of my neck. Caleb always smiled so gently. But the words that came out of his mouth were pure poison. “You know something, Stella?” he whispered. “You were made for a collar.” … He was using an innocent boy to trample all over my dignity, to grind it into the dirt. I had told myself that if I was already in hell, I couldn’t drag anyone else down with me. But it was too late. … The next day, as I was being shoved against a wall, the contents of my backpack being dumped onto the floor, Leo suddenly rushed in and pulled me away. This was their usual routine. Accuse me of stealing money, then empty my bag to “prove” it. No one expected Leo, the timid, quiet boy, to intervene. Whistles and catcalls erupted behind us. Leo pulled me along, running blindly, as if he had no idea where he was going. I stared at the back of his head. His hair was getting long. He stumbled, and I almost went down with him. His glasses fell to the ground. I bent to pick them up and found myself looking directly into his eyes. … He always hid behind a thick curtain of bangs. It was the first time I’d ever really seen his face. I didn’t know what to say. I had never seen such beautiful eyes. A pale, smoky grey, so light they seemed translucent, but with an unnerving emptiness within. They were so striking that for a moment, I forgot to breathe. “You…” I finally managed, my voice barely a whisper. “You shouldn’t have done that.” I don’t know if he understood what I meant. He just pressed his lips together and said nothing. When we got back to class, the room erupted in a storm of teasing. But after that day, Leo started being… nice to me. He seemed oblivious to the malicious taunts of the other students. He brought me breakfast. He secretly left candy in my desk. Every time he did something kind, every time he looked at me with those innocent, unknowing eyes, a fresh wave of guilt washed over me. Caleb had won again. No matter how I struggled, he always got what he wanted. Now, he was enjoying building me up with a fragile, beautiful illusion, just so he could be the one to shatter it. 9 Our parents were going on a business trip for a week. Which meant I would be alone in the house with Caleb. For seven days. My body trembled at the thought. Caleb, sitting next to me on the sofa, just lowered his eyes and smiled. The first night after they left, he blocked me at my bedroom door. The vast, empty house was unnervingly quiet, and a flicker of fear ignited in my chest. He leaned against the doorframe, tilting his head as he looked at me. “You know why they haven’t been messing with you lately? Because Leo’s been taking the hits for you.” If the devil had a face, it would be Caleb’s. “It’s a shame you didn’t get to see it. The way they kicked him against the lockers.” “If you have a problem, take it out on me!” I lunged forward and grabbed the collar of his shirt. He simply reached up and slowly, gently, covered my hand with his. He must have felt the tremors running through my fingers, because he let out a low chuckle. “You haven’t fallen for him too, have you?” I stared at him, grinding my teeth so hard I thought they would crack. “Caleb, why are you doing this to me?” With every step he took forward, I took one back, until my back was pressed against the cold, hard wall. “Well,” he whispered, his face inches from mine. “Why don’t you fight back?” His fingers closed around my wrist. He was like a demon, peeling back the layers of my soul, asking the one question I could never answer. Why didn’t I fight back? I knew the reason. I had always known. It was because I… Something was clawing at the edges of my memory, a truth I had buried long ago. But in that instant, Caleb raised his other hand and gently stroked my hair. He leaned in, his smile disarmingly innocent. “Sleep with me,” he murmured, “and I’ll leave him alone. Deal?” Caleb was testing my limits, one by one. And in the end, he would make a shocking discovery. I didn’t have any. … Caleb’s bed was bigger than mine. When he pulled me down onto the mattress beside him, it didn’t feel cramped. And when he said sleep, he actually meant sleep. “You have to keep your promise,” I said, my voice flat, staring at the empty floor. Moonlight filtered through the blinds, casting fractured, painful slivers of light across the room. “Leave Leo alone.” He was lying behind me, closer than he had ever been. I could feel the heat of his body. His knuckles brushed against my shoulder blade. He let out a soft laugh and pulled me tighter against him. “Why are you so nice to him?” He waited a long time, but I didn’t answer. He must have known I wouldn’t. He toyed with a strand of my hair, then sighed, his breath warm against the back of my neck. His next words were so quiet, they were barely more than a whisper, a dreamlike murmur lost in the darkness. “To be honest, I’m a little jealous of him.” … 10 To his credit, Caleb was a man of his word. As twisted as it was to force his own sister to sleep in his bed, he kept his promise. He never laid a hand on Leo again. The bullying at school, for the most part, stopped. In the dead of night, I listened to the steady rhythm of his breathing, then slowly, carefully, I slipped his arm off me. I crept out of bed and made my way to his desk. There was something I needed to confirm. For the past few nights, after he fell asleep, I had been searching his room. I was sure he would have kept it somewhere. Finally, in the back of the third bookshelf, I found a small, wooden box with a combination lock. It looked old. I tried a few different number combinations, but none of them worked. I frowned, considering my options. Maybe I could sneak it out and pry it open. A cool, clear voice broke the silence behind me. “The combination is 0604. Her birthday.” …Caleb was standing right behind me, watching me. When he wasn’t smiling, his face was a mask of cold, severe indifference. The moonlight poured into his eyes, making them look like polished, emotionless stones. I lowered my head and entered the code. The lock clicked open. Inside were a few trinkets, small mementos. I didn’t bother trying to understand their meaning. I was looking for one thing. And then I found it. A photograph. I was right. All those years ago… Caleb’s sister… It was my fault she died.

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1 After helping my husband, Anthony, build his company from the ground up, I settled into the quiet life of a stay-at-home mom. For our daughter Mia’s tenth birthday, I wanted to do something special. I booked a lavish party at the Hilton, with catering that cost $2,500 a table. But when I went to pay, the manager gave me a strange look. “Mrs. Cole,” he said, his voice laced with pity, “this card can’t even cover a fifty-dollar charge.” Mortified, I rushed home to confront Anthony. He had the grace to look apologetic. “The company’s in a bidding war right now,” he explained, running a hand through his hair. “The new commissioner is… demanding. I’ve had to spend a lot out of pocket to grease the wheels.” He pulled me into a hug. “Once the deal closes and the cash starts flowing again, I promise I’ll throw Mia the birthday party of the century.” I nodded, playing the part of the understanding wife. But as soon as he was gone, I started digging. You see, the new commissioner is my father. And his department hasn’t had a public bid in months. I needed to see exactly where our money was going. This was our joint household account; just last month, it had over a hundred and fifty thousand dollars in it. The transaction history had been wiped clean, so I went straight to the bank and pulled the full statement. The largest charge was from the very same Hilton I’d just left. One hundred and twenty thousand dollars. The description read: Birthday Celebration Package. “Daddy must be planning a surprise for us, right, Mommy?” Mia’s eyes were wide with innocent excitement. “Let’s go! We can surprise him, too!” Looking at her hopeful face, I couldn’t bring myself to imagine the worst. Maybe he really had planned something. When we arrived at the grand ballroom, the first person I saw was Anthony. Dressed in a tailored suit, he stood at the entrance, laughing with guests. And clinging to his arm was a woman in a slinky red dress, the two of them looking like a portrait of success. I recognized her instantly. Vivian Shaw, his secretary. One of the company’s first employees. “Mrs. Cole, your son is the spitting image of his father,” a guest gushed to Vivian. “Such a handsome young man.” “Isn’t he?” another chimed in. “Honestly, Vivian, everyone at the company envies you and Anthony. Your son is getting so big, and you two are still like newlyweds.” My blood ran cold. Following their gaze, I saw a little boy standing between them. He had Anthony’s eyes, Anthony’s jawline. A five- or six-year-old echo of my husband. “Daddy, they spelled my name wrong!” Mia suddenly pulled her hand from mine and darted towards the entrance. “It’s M-I-A, not L-E-O!” My eyes snapped to the ornate display stand next to the door. In gleaming gold letters, it read: Happy 7th Birthday to our beloved son, Leo! Before the world could even tilt on its axis, I heard a sharp cry. Vivian had shoved Mia, sending her tumbling to the polished floor. “Where did this brat come from?” Vivian sneered. “No manners at all.” I lunged forward, scooping Mia into my arms. Beads of blood welled up on her scraped knee, and a white-hot rage blinded me. “Anthony!” My voice trembled, raw with fury. I held Mia tight as she began to sob. “You take our family’s money to play house with this woman, to raise your bastard son, and now you let her hurt our daughter?” Vivian muttered under her breath, just loud enough for me to hear. “What family money? Every dime in this company was earned through my blood, sweat, and tears alongside Anthony. Some people get used to being a canary in a gilded cage and start thinking they own the place.” A wave of whispers rippled through the guests. Their eyes darted between us, hungry for drama. “Is that the mistress? Crashing the party with her kid?” “The nerve of some people. Showing up to flaunt herself in front of the real wife. Shameless.” “And look at the daughter. An apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, you know. Trash raises trash.” Their stares—a mixture of pity, contempt, and morbid curiosity—pricked at my skin like a thousand needles. “What the hell are you talking about?” I shouted, my voice cracking. “Vivian is the mistress! That boy is the one who shouldn’t exist!” A few snide chuckles broke out from the crowd. A man with a beer belly swirled his champagne flute. “Everyone knows Vivian has been with Anthony for years. She’s the power behind the throne.” Another woman added, “Anthony and his wife are solid. This woman is clearly just some gold digger trying to shake him down for money.” I locked eyes with Anthony, my voice dropping to a dangerous low. “Anthony. Tell them. Tell them who I am.” He finally spoke, a weary, patronizing smile on his face as he addressed the room. “My apologies, everyone. A little misunderstanding. This is Julia, our nanny. She’s been reading a few too many trashy romance novels, and I’m afraid she gets… confused sometimes.” He turned back to me, his eyes now cold steel, a clear warning. “Julia, why don’t you take your daughter home? You’re making a scene.” The words hit me like a physical blow. This man, my husband of twelve years, the man I shared a bed with, was erasing me in front of a room full of strangers, painting me as a delusional servant. Seeing Anthony side with her, Vivian’s confidence swelled. Her voice became shrill and commanding. “Julia, I know it must be hard raising a child on your own, but this is just pathetic. Tell you what. You go home now, and I’ll have the butler add three months’ severance to your final paycheck.” The guests erupted in derisive laughter. “The nanny trying to usurp the throne? That’s rich! What won’t people do for money?” “I almost feel sorry for the little girl, having a mother like that.” “She’s just a little con artist in the making, taught to play the victim by her grifter mom.” Vivian smirked, victorious. She crouched down to speak to her son, Leo. “See, sweetie? This is why you have to study hard. Otherwise, you’ll end up like some people—nothing but a pathetic clown.” Leo tilted his chin up, his eyes holding a cruel glint that didn’t belong on a seven-year-old’s face. “You stupid woman! How dare you yell at my mommy?” He lunged forward and shoved me hard. Caught off guard, I stumbled back, nearly taking Mia down with me. Leo puffed out his chest, the perfect little spoiled prince. “My daddy said this whole company will be mine one day! Who do you and your little brat think you are, trying to steal my dad? You’ll end up just like your mom—a maid, cleaning up after us!” The laughter from the guests grew louder, more vicious. Someone actually clapped. “That’s the spirit, young man! A future titan of industry!” Just then, a few hotel staff members walked by with trays. One of them was the manager who had dealt with me earlier. He saw me and, with theatrical volume, said to his colleague, “Hey, isn’t that the ‘Mrs. Cole’ who tried to book a $2,500-a-table party but didn’t even have fifty bucks on her card?” He snickered. “Some people love to pretend they’re rich. Play the part of the society wife right up until the bill comes, then they scurry away like rats.” Vivian heard him and let out a sharp, mocking laugh. “Can’t even scrape together fifty dollars? No wonder she’s causing a scene.” The man with the beer belly swaggered over, his greasy gaze crawling over me and Mia. “You know,” he said with a lecherous grin, “for a nanny, she’s not half bad. The little girl’s a cute piece, too.” He leaned in, his breath sour with alcohol. “Look, you’ve got no future with Anthony. How about you come with me? I’ll give you three grand a month, room and board for you and the kid. How’s that sound? You won’t have to worry about fifty-dollar problems anymore. I’m a generous guy, right?” The crowd roared. Someone yelled, “Hanson, you’re too generous! Is she really worth three grand a month?” Vivian, nestled securely in Anthony’s arm, laughed along with them. I stared at my husband. “Anthony,” I pleaded, my voice raw. “Are you just going to stand there and let them humiliate me and Mia like this?” He watched, his face a mask of indifference, as if I were a complete stranger. When the laughter finally died down, he spoke, his tone cold and impatient. “Julia, stop embarrassing yourself. It’s my son’s birthday. Take your daughter and leave, or I’m calling security.” Mia trembled in my arms, her little hands clutching my dress. She buried her face in my chest, trying to hide from the cruel, laughing faces. “Mommy,” she whispered, her voice choked with fear, “is it true? What they’re saying?” Her question felt like a knife twisting in my heart. Twelve years of marriage, of love and sacrifice, all culminating in this public crucifixion. “No, sweetie. No, it’s not…” I covered her ears, a bitter wave of memories washing over me. How could I even begin to explain? When Anthony was just starting out, we worked out of a cramped, hundred-square-foot office. We couldn’t afford employees, so I did everything—I was the receptionist, the bookkeeper, the sales rep. I swallowed my pride and begged for meetings with every distant relative and old family friend I had, all to help him land clients. I remember the day he signed his first major contract. He was so ecstatic he spun me around in circles, then used his first commission to buy me an expensive dress. I didn’t have the heart to tell him the client was one of my uncle’s oldest friends. As the company grew, and after Mia was born, Anthony insisted I stay home. He’d looked at me with such tenderness. “I’ll take care of you now,” he’d promised. “You’ve worked so hard for me. It’s time for you to rest and enjoy life.” But now… I glanced down at my own dress, a simple thing I’d owned for three years. Then I looked at them. Anthony in his bespoke suit, Vivian draped in designer labels. They were a perfect match, accepting the crowd’s adoration. And me? I was the nanny. No one even questioned it. “Ma’am,” Vivian said, her voice dripping with false sympathy. “I know life is hard, but a child this age understands things. If you have no shame for yourself, at least have some for your daughter.” She pulled a slim, designer wallet from her clutch and fanned out a small stack of hundred-dollar bills. She held the money out to me, her chin high. “I don’t have much cash on me, but take this. Two thousand dollars.” As she leaned in, she whispered so only I could hear, “So what if you met him first, Julia? The one who isn’t loved is always the other woman.” Then, in front of everyone, she let out a theatrical “Oh!” and her fingers went limp. The cash slapped against my face before scattering across the floor around my feet. “Oops,” she said with a smug, unapologetic smile. “Silly me. My hand slipped.” The VP, Hanson, boomed, “Now that’s class! A true lady! See? Generous to a fault!” Anthony shot me a look of pure disgust. “Pick it up,” he commanded. “And get out.” I started to laugh, a broken, hysterical sound. “Two thousand dollars? Is that what you think I’m worth? Anthony, do you have any idea how a startup like yours landed those massive initial contracts?” My voice rose with every word. “Every single penny you’ve spent on her and that bastard son is our marital property. If I want it back, I will take every last cent!” Vivian scoffed. “Wow, you’ve really spun yourself a fantasy, haven’t you? What billionaire romance are you living in? The patriarchy is dead, honey. Time to stop playing the dutiful wife.” But I had hit a nerve with Anthony. His face darkened. “Julia, that’s enough—” SLAP! The sharp crack of my palm against his cheek echoed through the silent room. “You say my name again,” I hissed, “you dare attach one more lie to it, and I will see you in court.” Stunned, Anthony touched his cheek, his eyes flaring with rage. In a flash, he lunged, his hand clamping around my throat. His knuckles turned white as he squeezed. “You think I won’t hit a woman?” he snarled, his face inches from mine. “Don’t push me.” The world began to tunnel. Air became a luxury I couldn’t afford. Black spots danced in my vision as I clawed uselessly at his wrist. Just as I thought I would pass out, Vivian stepped forward, placing a gentle hand on his arm. “Anthony, darling, she’s not worth it. Don’t let this trash upset you.” He released me. I collapsed to the floor, gasping for breath, tears streaming down my face. In that moment, I saw it in his eyes. He had wanted to kill me. Vivian tenderly caressed the red mark on his cheek and, right there in front of everyone, stood on her toes and kissed him. “There, now. Don’t be angry. It’s Leo’s special day. Let’s not let her ruin it.” Anthony’s expression softened as he wrapped an arm around her waist. Suddenly, the ballroom lights dimmed. A projector flickered on, casting a large image onto a screen. A slideshow had begun. It was Leo. From his first moments in the hospital to his first day of school, a montage of a cherished life. And in every photo, there they were: a happy, smiling family. Anthony and Vivian. My own daughter, Mia, had so few photos with her father. He was always “too busy.” Mia’s and Leo’s birthdays were on the same day. That’s why, for the past seven years—since the year Leo was born—Mia had never seen her father on her birthday. Leo shot Mia a triumphant sneer. “He’s my daddy. Where are your pictures with him?” Mia’s face fell. She turned to me, her voice a tiny, wounded whisper. “Mommy… am I really… a bastard?” I shook my head, my heart shattering. But then the screen showed a series of family vacation photos, and the background of one of them stopped my breath. The deck of a cruise ship, the vast ocean behind them. Anthony and Vivian, their cheeks pressed together in a loving embrace. I knew that ship. It was the luxury cruise I had booked for our fifth wedding anniversary. He must have bought her a ticket, too. Another photo showed them at an amusement park—Bayview City. The date stamp in the corner was the exact same day Anthony had taken Mia and me there. It all clicked into place. The “urgent business meetings” that always seemed to pop up during our family trips. The “last-minute calls” he had to take. My perfect marriage was a lie, riddled with holes I had been too blind to see. While I was still reeling from the shock, Leo suddenly charged at Mia and slapped her hard across the face. “Your mommy hit my daddy!” he shrieked. “So I’m gonna hit you!” Mia’s head snapped to the side, a red handprint already blooming on her cheek. She was taller than Leo, and at that age of fierce pride, her first instinct was to fight back. But Vivian grabbed Mia’s arms, her nails digging into her fragile wrists. “Don’t you dare!” she hissed. “What a little savage! Utterly without breeding!” With Mia restrained, Leo saw his chance. He started kicking and punching her, a flurry of childish, uncontrolled blows. Scratches appeared on her arms. Mia’s eyes filled with tears, but she bit her lip, refusing to cry out. “Stop it!” I screamed, trying to pull Leo off her, but Anthony grabbed my arm, his grip like iron. “It’s just kids roughhousing, Julia. What are you getting so worked up about?” he said, his voice casual. “Leo’s a smart boy. He knows his limits.” “She’s your daughter!” I shrieked, my voice tearing from my throat. “Anthony, she is your flesh and blood! How can you stand there and watch this happen? How can you be so cruel?” He turned his head away, refusing to meet my eyes. His reply was quiet, but his words were daggers. “He’s my son.” Just then, Leo landed a vicious kick to Mia’s stomach. She doubled over, her face going pale with pain. “Mia!” I screamed, my heart seizing in my chest. Mia tried to shield her stomach, but Vivian still had her pinned, leaving her completely defenseless. Emboldened, Leo drew back his foot, aiming for Mia’s already bleeding knee. “ENOUGH!” I finally wrenched myself free from Anthony’s grasp, lunged forward, and shoved Leo away, pulling my daughter into my arms. Mia was trembling uncontrollably, her small hand gripping my dress. “Mommy,” she whimpered, “it hurts so much…” Leo, who had stumbled and hit a table, started wailing. Vivian rushed to his side, frantic. “My baby! My precious boy! Leo is going to inherit a multi-million-dollar corporation! If you’ve hurt him, you’ll never be able to pay for it!” Seeing them in a heap of tears, Anthony raised his hand, his face contorted with rage. “Julia, you vicious bitch!” The blow never landed. The ballroom doors swung open. A man in a sharp black jacket strode in, flanked by an assistant carrying a briefcase. He had an air of quiet authority, a powerful presence that instantly silenced the room. Hanson, the VP who had insulted me, immediately transformed into a fawning sycophant, scrambling to greet the newcomer. “Commissioner Dong! What an honor! Your presence truly graces us!” He turned to Anthony, beaming. “Anthony, this is the man I’m always telling you about! The new commissioner for the state!” Anthony stared, his face draining of all color. “Father… in-law?” I clutched my injured daughter, looked at that strong, familiar face, and the dam finally broke. “Dad…” I choked out.

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The third year I spent playing the perfect wife, my husband, Alec Denisof, was in a car crash. I knelt by his hospital bed, gazing at his unconscious form, and my sobs were the most convincing in the room. But inside, I was ecstatic. If this bastard Alec actually dies, does that mean I inherit everything? That’s tens of billions! I’ve hit the jackpot! Just as I was reveling in my secret delight, Alec’s eyes snapped open. “What did you just say?” 1 I lifted my head, my eyes instantly welling with tears. I looked at him with an expression of profound love, my voice trembling. “I was saying… I was saying that as long as you’re okay, I’d be willing to die right here and now.” Perfect! The line, the expression… I’m almost moved to tears myself. But this time, Alec didn’t respond with his usual look of contempt. He just stared at me. For the first time, the expression on his handsome face was one of utter shock, as if he’d been struck by lightning. A bizarre mix of stunned disbelief and utter confusion. Had he… gone stupid? Looking at his shattered expression, a sense of foreboding crept over me. Please don’t tell me the crash scrambled his brains. He was staring at me so intensely it was making my skin crawl. What are you looking at? Never seen an award-winning actress before? I grumbled internally. Just as I was wondering if he’d truly lost his mind, Penelope Reed, sitting on the other side of the bed, couldn’t stay quiet any longer. She tugged on Alec’s sleeve, her voice a saccharine, baby-doll whine. “Alec, what’s wrong? Did Ava upset you again? Ava, you should apologize to him, quickly.” See that? The masterclass in being a wolf in sheep’s clothing. Subtly making me the villain without breaking a sweat. Normally, Alec would have seized the opportunity to mock and belittle me. But today, he just waved a dismissive hand, his eyes never leaving my face. 2 After Alec was discharged, the atmosphere at home became… strange. He no longer spoke to me with his usual coldness, but he wasn’t exactly warm, either. Most of the time, he just watched me. Intently. It was starting to freak me out. Dude, if you keep looking at me like that, I’m going to start thinking you have a secret crush on me. So creepy. I’m getting goosebumps. Despite his unnerving gaze, I diligently continued my performance as the deeply devoted wife. One afternoon, I was lounging on the sofa with a face mask on, watching TV, when Penelope Reed waltzed in, carrying a thermos, dripping with calculated charm. “Ava, darling, I made some soup for Alec. Is he around?” she asked in her soft, delicate voice, but her eyes were scanning me like a radar, lingering on the thousand-dollar sheet mask I was wearing. Made soup? This is a girl who’s never touched a dish in her life. I bet the delivery guy made it. While I was roasting her in my head, I plastered a look of pleasant surprise on my face and quickly peeled off the mask. “Penelope, you’re too sweet! Alec’s in his study. Please, have a seat.” Alec heard our voices and came out of his study. Penelope immediately fluttered over to him like a social butterfly and presented the thermos. “Alec, I made this for you myself. You have to try it.” They interacted as if I wasn’t even in the room, so I discreetly started to head upstairs. “Ava, don’t go,” Penelope called out, her gaze zeroing in on my wrist. “That bracelet is gorgeous. Was it a gift from Alec?” My heart skipped a beat. The bracelet was a gift from Alec’s mother. Though his mother had never given me the time of day, the bracelet was a Denisof family heirloom, worth a fortune. Seriously? If Alec ever bought me something this expensive, pigs would fly. Oh, here comes the classic scene. She’ll ask to see it, then “accidentally” drop it, then burst into tears, making me look petty while she looks innocent. And Alec will have to comfort her. I’d bet my life the script goes exactly like that. The whole drama was already playing out in my head. I gave a shy smile. “It was… from my mother-in-law.” “Wow, she must adore you,” Penelope said, her eyes wide with envy. Then, she asked tentatively, “Can I… can I just have a look? Just for a second.” She looked so hopeful and pure that refusing would have made me look like a monster. I glanced at Alec. He was leaning against the sofa, his expression unreadable, showing no intention of helping me out. Fine. Have it your way. I steeled myself and began to slowly slide the jade bracelet off my wrist. “Of… of course.” Just as the bracelet was about to slip past my knuckles, Penelope let out a sudden “Oh!” and stumbled, crashing directly into me. CRACK! The sharp sound of splintering jade echoed through the silent living room. The emerald-green bracelet lay on the polished marble floor in a dozen pieces. There go my fifty billion. No, I mean, there goes the Denisof family heirloom. Penelope’s reaction was faster than mine. She immediately dropped to her knees, tears instantly streaming down her face. “I’m so sorry! I’m so, so sorry, Ava! It’s all my fault, I lost my balance… Something so precious…” She cried so beautifully it was almost poetic, as if her own heart had shattered, not the bracelet. I stood frozen, my face pale, tears welling in my eyes, perfectly portraying the image of a bullied wife, heartbroken but too scared to speak up. Not bad, girl. With acting skills like that, you’re wasted on anything less than professional extortion. Alright, the ball’s in Alec’s court now. According to the script, he should rush over, help his darling Penelope to her feet, and then shoot me a death glare while saying something like, ‘It’s just a bracelet. It’s not as important as Penelope.’ I looked at Alec, half-expecting him to deliver the final, crushing blow. But Alec didn’t move. He didn’t even glance at the weeping Penelope or the pile of shattered jade on the floor. His gaze was fixed, unwaveringly, on my face. And in his eyes… there was a look of scrutiny I’d never seen before. And… disappointment? What was he disappointed about? That I didn’t immediately start a catfight with Penelope? What are you looking at me for? Look at your precious angel! She’s waiting for you to comfort her. Why aren’t you following the script? Next, she’s supposed to offer to replace it, then pull out some cheap knockoff she bought at a flea market to humiliate me. Countdown starting in five, four, three… “Ava, I’m truly sorry,” Penelope said, just as I predicted, lifting her tear-streaked face. She sniffled, pulling a bracelet from her own wrist. “This one isn’t as valuable as yours, but it was a gift from my mother. Please… please take it. Otherwise, I’ll never be able to forgive myself…” She held the bracelet out, looking pitifully at me, then at Alec. The living room was dead silent. Just when I thought Alec would condescendingly tell me to be gracious and accept it, he finally spoke. “That won’t be necessary.” Two words. They froze Penelope’s sobs and her outstretched hand in mid-air. Alec slowly stood up and walked over to us. He looked down at Penelope, his eyes utterly devoid of warmth. “The housekeeper just mopped. The floor is a bit slippery. You should be more careful next time.” He paused, then turned toward the door. “Mark, see Ms. Reed out.” The expression on Penelope’s face shifted from tragic damsel to dumbfounded shock, the color draining completely from her cheeks. I was stunned, too. What… what did that mean? He didn’t comfort Penelope. He didn’t blame me. He just… brushed it off and kicked her out? As Mark “escorted” Penelope out, she gave me a look that could kill. The living room was empty except for me, Alec, and the shattered jade on the floor. He looked at me, still with that same, unreadable expression. For the first time, a flicker of panic ignited within me. This man, who I thought I had wrapped around my little finger, had changed. Something about him, somewhere along the way, had completely and utterly changed. 3 After Penelope was shown the door, I cautiously knelt and started picking up the bracelet fragments. I kept my head down, not daring to look at Alec, but my mind was racing. What the hell is wrong with him today? Instead of defending his precious angel and attacking me, he sends her packing? Could it be… his conscience finally kicked in? No way. A dog ate his conscience years ago. I get it! He must have thought Penelope’s acting was so terrible it was embarrassing him. Yes, that has to be it. Still, my heart aches for his mom’s bracelet. That thing was worth billions, and now it’s smithereens. If his mother finds out, she’ll skin me alive. Nope, I can’t take the blame for this. While I schemed, I spoke in the most grief-stricken tone I could muster. “Alec, I’m so sorry. It’s my fault, I wasn’t holding it properly… If your mother asks…” “It’s just a bracelet.” Alec cut me off, his voice flat and emotionless. I looked up and met his deep, inscrutable eyes. He had repeated the exact line I had scripted for him in my head, but the tone and context were completely wrong. There was no comfort for Penelope, no defense of her actions. Just a chilling, unnerving calm. “You don’t need to worry about it. I’ll handle it,” he said, then turned and went back into his study, shutting the door with a firm click. I remained frozen, staring at the closed door, the sense of unease growing stronger. His reaction was completely off-script. For the next few days, Alec became even more withdrawn. He stopped staring at me with that strange intensity, but the tension in the house was thicker than ever. He would lock himself in his study and stay there all day. I was more than happy to have the peace and quiet. I spent my days at the spa, shopping, and counting down the days until our contract expired. My mood was soaring. One evening, I was humming a tune as I came out of the bathroom. I passed his study and noticed the door was slightly ajar, a sliver of light spilling out. Curious, I tiptoed closer to see what he was up to. Through the crack in the door, I saw Alec sitting at his desk, holding a document, lost in thought. His handsome profile was cast in shadow by the desk lamp. That document… it looked familiar. I squinted, and my heart dropped into my stomach. Wasn’t that the prenuptial agreement we signed three years ago?! He had pulled it out? I held my breath, the hair on my arms standing on end. What the hell is he playing at? We’re so close to the end. Why would he pull out the contract now? Is he thinking of backing out? Is he going to try to screw me out of the villa and the fifty million compensation? I knew it! Capitalists are all the same! Alec Denisof, you son of a bitch, if you dare to back out of this deal, I swear I’ll kill you! I was fuming, wanting nothing more than to storm in there and demand an explanation. But blowing up now wouldn’t do me any good. I took a deep breath, suppressed my anger, and quietly backed away, planning to retreat to my room and strategize. Just then, Alec moved. He slowly lifted his head, and our eyes met in the dim hallway. The look in his eyes was something I had never seen before… shattered. Yes, shattered. Like a broken mirror reflecting shock, pain, and a deep, self-mocking irony. He held up the agreement, his voice raw and hoarse. “Ava,” he asked, “these three years… has it all just been an act?” My heart sank. He knows? How could he know? He’s known the terms of the contract from the beginning, what’s different now? I forced myself to remain calm, my face quickly morphing into the familiar, innocent, and bewildered expression he knew so well. “Alec, what are you talking about? What act?” I cautiously pushed the door open and walked toward him, my eyes turning red on cue. “I… I don’t understand.” Alec watched me, watched me approach him step by step, watched the flawless performance on my face. And then, he let out a low, soft laugh. It was a laugh filled with endless sorrow and self-deprecation. He slammed the agreement down on the desk with a loud rustle. “You don’t understand?” he repeated, his eyes bloodshot, enunciating every word. “Ava, I’m asking you. Do you want to leave me that badly?” Of course! Did you think I’d stick around to be the stepping stone for you and your true love? To wait for you to discard me when you’re done? Three more months. Just three more months! I just have to endure it, and then freedom and money will be mine! I can’t screw this up now! While I gave myself a mental pep talk, my trembling voice delivered a heartfelt confession. “Alec, I don’t know why you’re suddenly saying this.” “I love you. Why would I ever want to leave you? Unless… unless you don’t want me anymore.” As I spoke, a single, perfectly timed tear rolled down my cheek. I expected my performance, like all the others over the past three years, to be met with his usual disgust and impatience. But this time was different. As my words hung in the air, the last glimmer of light in his eyes was completely extinguished.

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On what was supposed to be the happiest day of my life, my fiancé and I went to get our marriage license. But a strange man suddenly appeared, pointed at me, and shouted, “Honey, I finally found you!” Two children at his side burst into tears and rushed toward me, crying in unison, “Mommy! Mommy!” I had no idea who they were. But my fiancé, without a moment’s hesitation, turned on me, his words like venom. His accusations quickly turned to violence. The strange man, fueled by his own rage, joined in, striking me until I collapsed. Even as I drew my last breath, I couldn’t understand. How could I have two children with a man I’d never met? And why had my fiancé, who had always loved me more than life itself, turned on me so suddenly? When I opened my eyes again, I was back. It was the day before we were supposed to get our license. 1 “Babe, I can’t wait for tomorrow! Once we get that license, you’ll officially be my wife. Get some sleep tonight, okay? Love you.” The sound of Richard’s voice confirmed it—I had been reborn. But before I could even respond, he’d already hung up. In my past life, Richard had always been a perfect gentleman. Before we were engaged, the most intimate he’d ever been was a soft kiss on the cheek. He’d treated me like a precious treasure, showering me with affection and care. But on the day we went to get our license, when that stranger accused me, he hadn’t even listened to my explanation. He’d just started screaming, his fists flying. The terror of my own death had overshadowed the disappointment, but now, the most important thing was to cancel our appointment for tomorrow. I found my parents in the living room, cuddled together watching a movie. “Mom, Dad,” I began. They looked up, surprised. “Ella, honey, why are you still up?” “Did we wake you?” They exchanged a confused glance. I took a deep breath. “Mom, Dad, I’m not getting the license with Richard tomorrow. I’m not going to marry him.” “What?!” “What?! I won’t allow it!” My mom’s reaction was… odd. She had always been against my marriage to Richard. She thought he was irresponsible, immature, and broke. The only reason she’d consented was because I’d threatened to do something drastic. So why the sudden change of heart? Was it because she thought I was treating marriage like a joke? My dad put a comforting arm around her shoulder and turned to me. “Ella, did Richard do something to upset you? Why the sudden change of heart? You know all our friends and family know you’re getting married. The wedding is in two weeks. Everything’s been booked. You can’t just call it off.” “We’ve spoiled you, that’s the problem,” he continued, his voice hardening. “Letting you think marriage is some kind of game!” My voice was steady and firm. “Richard cheated on me. He slept with another woman.” In my past life, I’d waited at the courthouse for two hours before he finally showed up, looking like he’d just rolled out of bed, his clothes a mess, a hickey on his neck he hadn’t even bothered to hide. My mom just frowned, her tone dismissive. “You said he loves you. A man who loves you that much wouldn’t do something like that. You must be mistaken.” I stared at her, a flicker of confusion in my eyes. The old Mom would have been dragging me to Richard’s place to confront him, to defend my honor. But now, she just gave me a cold, detached look, as if I were a stranger, not the daughter she had cherished her whole life. “Well, I’m not marrying him,” I said, my voice resolute. “And I’m not going to the courthouse tomorrow. You can deal with it.” My parents had handled all the wedding arrangements. Richard’s parents had passed away when he was young, and his older brother, who had raised him, had died recently. Now, his only living relative was his sister-in-law. “You can’t just not marry him!” my mother shrieked. “What about our reputation? What will people say?” Her words triggered a flash of memory from my past life. After the stranger had accused me, and everyone was pointing and whispering, my mother had screamed at me, “You’ve brought such shame on this family! How could you be so shameless?” At the time, I had been so focused on defending myself, on trying to explain things to Richard, that I had completely missed how strange my parents were acting. My dad, seeing the confusion in my eyes, quickly tried to placate my mother. I shot them a suspicious glance but said nothing. I just turned and went back to my room. A second chance at life. Nothing was more important than that. And this time, I wouldn’t let that man destroy me. 2 I barely slept that night, the memories of my past life replaying in my mind like a horror film. I was in a daze when I heard my mother’s furious voice from outside my door. “Ella, you get up right now! So that’s why you suddenly didn’t want to marry Richard! You’ve been cheating on him, having kids with some other man!” The door handle rattled. Oh no, I thought. I rushed to the window. A crowd of neighbors had gathered outside, their faces eager with gossip. My heart sank. We lived in a townhouse. My room was on the second floor. There was no way to escape without being seen. While I was desperately trying to think of a plan, my dad kicked open my bedroom door. His face was a thundercloud. “Get downstairs. Now.” My heart pounding, I followed him down. The living room was filled with a gawking crowd. And there, in the middle of it all, was the same man from my past life, with his two children. I thought if I just stayed home, I could avoid him. But he had found me. The two children saw me and rushed forward, clinging to my legs. “Mommy! Mommy!” I frowned, looking down at the two small faces that bore a striking resemblance to my own. No wonder my parents had believed him so easily. Looking at them, a part of me almost believed it too. “I always thought the Miller girl was a good kid,” someone whispered. “Who knew she was so… loose.” “No morals at all! Having kids with one man and then trying to trap another.” “That guy looks old enough to be her father.” “Who cares? Maybe she’s into that.” “In that case, maybe she’d consider me! I’ve never been with a woman, hahaha!” “Me too! Let’s see if I’m her type!” The air was thick with their malicious whispers. I seethed with anger, but my parents just sat on the sofa, their faces impassive, as if they couldn’t hear a thing. “I’m not your mother,” I said, pushing the children away. “Stop calling me that!” They stumbled and fell, their cries adding to the cacophony. The crowd, enjoying the drama, grew louder. “Hey, that’s no way to treat your kids!” the man said, his voice laced with indignation. “You carried them for nine months. You gave birth to them. You’re the one who begged me to have them, and then you just abandoned us.” One of the children looked about eight, the other four. Eight years ago, I was still in high school. It was impossible. Four years ago, I was swamped with grad school applications. I had no time to have a baby. My best friend could vouch for me. In my past life, when Richard was late, I’d asked my best friend, Sarah, to go find him. She’d missed the whole scene with the stranger and the kids. But last night, I had told her I was calling off the wedding. She’d been completely supportive. And when she found out why, she’d vowed to give Richard a piece of her mind today. I pulled out my phone, but the man snatched it from my hand and smashed it on the floor. “Bitch! I heard you were getting married today. Not on my watch!” The screen shattered. My anger flared. “Are you insane?! Look at me! I’m not the person you’re looking for!” He stared at me intently. “Don’t you have a red birthmark on your back? And a black mole on your ass? And another one on your lower back?” He was right. But I didn’t know him. I’d never even seen him before. “If you want to prove I’m wrong, just take off your clothes and show everyone!” Without another word, he lunged at me, tearing at my clothes. I fought back, but he was too strong. The back of my shirt ripped open, exposing the birthmark and the mole to the gawking crowd. A wave of shame washed over me. My face was pale, my lips trembling. “It’s a coincidence,” I stammered, tears streaming down my face. “It’s all a coincidence. I don’t know him…” I looked at my parents, my voice pleading. “Mom, Dad, make him leave…” But they were gone. Seeing that my parents were no longer there, the man grew bolder. He pushed me to the floor. “Let’s see if you’re my woman or not.” His hands were all over me, pulling at my pants. 3 I struggled, but he held me down, his weight pinning me to the floor. Disgust and helplessness threatened to consume me. “Tsk. Still got a good body after two kids. A natural-born whore, aren’t you? It’s been a while. How about you give me a good time right now?” “Get off me!” I screamed, my voice raw with desperation. “Get off! I’ll call the police!” A sharp sting across my cheek. Then another. He’d slapped me, hard. I could taste blood. “The police?” he sneered. “I’m your man. I can do whatever I want with you. I could sell you, and the police wouldn’t do a damn thing. Anyone want a taste? Ten bucks a pop.” “Me! Me!” someone shouted from the crowd. “Me too!” “She’s a hot piece of ass. I’ll pay fifty!” The humiliation was a burning fire in my chest. I wanted to die. But he held me fast. Was this it? Had I been reborn just to die again? “Ella! I waited for you at the courthouse for hours, and you’re here putting on a live show with another man! You fucking slut! You cheated on me!” Richard pushed through the crowd, his eyes filled with disgust as he looked down at me. “Richard, help me…” I pleaded, ignoring the hatred in his eyes. “Help you? You cheated on me, and you want me to help you? Am I a fool?!” He kicked me in the stomach. A sharp pain shot through me, and I cried out. The man loosened his grip. I tried to scramble away, but he grabbed my hair, yanking me back. He then turned to Richard, grabbing him by the collar. “So you’re the one she was marrying. Tsk, tsk, tsk. You’re no better than her. Can’t even clean up your own mess.” He shoved Richard away and started dragging me by my hair. Just then, the sound of police sirens filled the air. “The police are here!” someone shouted. The man’s face hardened. “Who called the cops?!” “I did!” It was Sarah’s voice. A wave of relief washed over me. I was saved. The police dispersed the crowd. My parents reappeared, their faces a mask of concern as they spoke to the officers. “Officer, our daughter is just… promiscuous. She gets herself into these situations. We can handle this ourselves. You don’t need to get involved.” The officer gave me a strange, pitying look. Richard stood by, his eyes burning with rage. The two children huddled by the man’s side, their faces streaked with tears. “Mr. and Mrs. Miller, you know Ella better than anyone!” Sarah’s voice was filled with righteous anger. “You’re just going to believe this man’s lies? She’s your daughter! You’re just going to stand by and let him assault her?!” But they just looked at me with disgust, as if they’d never seen me before. “Who said I was lying?” the man said, pulling out a piece of paper. “I have proof.” It was a paternity test. It clearly stated that Ella Miller was the biological mother of the two children. I demanded another test. Under the watchful eye of the police, a new sample was taken. The result was the same. A 99% probability that I was their biological mother. “Now what do you have to say for yourself?!” Richard sneered. My parents just shook their heads, as if they’d known all along. Only Sarah kept staring at the report, muttering, “This can’t be right… there must be a mistake…” The officer sighed. “Well… this seems like a family matter.” “No!” I grabbed his arm. “Officer, I swear, I don’t know this man! I’m willing to have a medical examination. That will prove I’ve never given birth.” The officer considered this. But then my parents started to make a scene. “A medical examination?! What for? Isn’t the paternity test enough? Ella, are you trying to drag our family’s name through the mud?! Do you want the whole world to know our business?! If that’s the case, I might as well just die!” My mother burst into tears, pretending to be on the verge of collapse. The officer, flustered, tried to calm her down. After a moment, he seemed to agree with her. “Miss Miller,” he said, his voice gentle. “The paternity test is conclusive. You don’t have any siblings. If the children aren’t yours, whose could they be?” His words hit me like a ton of bricks. The pieces of the puzzle, the things I had missed in my past life, started to fall into place. My parents’ sudden change in behavior… it was all starting to make sense. “What if there was a twin?” I blurted out. “Wouldn’t a DNA test have trouble telling us apart?” “Well, there is that possibility, but…” I gripped his arm tighter. “I know who the mother is.”

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Just before bed, a sponsored post popped up on my feed. The algorithm had flagged it as something my husband had “liked.” The title read: A Love That Marriage Cannot Contain: My Knight Will Always Ride for Me. The article was a travel blog, chronicling the author’s trip through the Sahara with her boyfriend. The blogger called herself “Wildcat.” But not a single photo in the post showed her boyfriend’s face. My husband, Caden, is a cop. He doesn’t read this kind of sentimental drivel. And a week ago, he missed the birth of our child because he was away on a “training exercise.” The location? Africa. A coincidence? To be sure, I called him. “Where are you?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady. His tone was clipped, impatient. “Still in the Sahara for drills. Can you stop being so paranoid? I’m hanging up.” I froze. Just before the line went dead, I heard it—a soft, distinctly female giggle in the background. … I forwarded Wildcat’s blog to my grandfather’s personal assistant and then dove into her archives, reading every post she’d ever written. There weren’t many, but they all chronicled her adventures with her boyfriend. And in every single one, his face was conspicuously absent. The titles were strange, too. They had nothing to do with travel. A Love That Marriage Cannot Contain. Only the Unloved Choose Marriage. What Drab Housewife Can Compete with a Wildcat in the Sun? My Knight Doesn’t Want a Pregnant Lady. A free-spirited couple, committed to love but not to marriage? My gut told me this was no coincidence. When I checked my social media feed again, the “liked by a friend” feature had been disabled for Caden’s account. I could no longer see his activity. The knot in my stomach tightened. Just then, a message came through from my grandfather’s assistant. “Ma’am, the blogger ‘Wildcat’ is a young woman from the mountains you once sponsored. Her birth name was Cassie Miller. She later changed it and became a travel blogger, spending most of her time abroad.” Suddenly, a memory surfaced. It was right after we got married. Caden, who was usually so reserved, came up behind me and started massaging my shoulders. He told me he’d been on assignment in a remote mountain region and had seen girls who couldn’t afford to go to school. He asked if I would sponsor their education. It was such a rare moment of tenderness from him. I was so touched, I agreed without a second thought. My fists clenched. A sickening suspicion began to form. Just then, Wildcat’s blog updated again. “Hey guys! Next stop is the ancient site of the Hanging Gardens of Babylon! My boyfriend is so worried about me, he’s insisting on coming along to protect his girl! Tee hee!” “Way better than giving birth alone in a loveless marriage, amirite? A real knight by my side is all I need!” A wave of relief washed over me. Caden had said the training exercise was only a week long. He should be home in a day or two. I felt a pang of guilt for doubting him. This was all just a series of bizarre coincidences. He was distant, yes, but that was just his nature. And he had, in his own quiet way, told me he loved me before. Feeling reassured, I sent him a few pictures of our newborn baby. He hadn’t even seen him yet. But hours passed, and there was no reply. I was just drifting off to sleep when the unique notification tone I’d set for his messages chimed. I snatched up my phone. It was a cold, terse update. [Not coming home tomorrow. The squad’s been deployed to the Middle East for a counter-terrorism drill.] The blood drained from my face. The Hanging Gardens of Babylon are in the Middle East. I stared at the screen for a long moment, then immediately tried to video call him. It didn’t even ring for a full second before he rejected it. [What are you doing?! You’re interrupting my training!] His text was sharp, accusatory. A bitter laugh escaped my lips. He had time to type out a lecture, but not one second to answer my call? And what kind of training exercise lets you keep your phone on you? Was I interrupting his training? Or was I interrupting something else entirely? I called again. Rejected. And again. Rejected. Finally, another message came through, laced with fury. [Grace, did giving birth scramble your brain?!] [Do you have any idea how seriously you are compromising my mission right now?!] [So I’m coming back a few days late, what’s the big deal?! You’re getting more and more pathetic!] I was stunned. He was calling me, his wife who had just given birth to his child, “pathetic”? Still, a foolish part of me clung to hope. [Honey, I’m really not feeling well. Can you please just ask for leave and come home?] [Don’t you guys get paternity leave?] [My C-section incision is healing so slowly. The pain at night is so bad I have to take a handful of painkillers just to sleep.] [The baby is so fussy, and your mom won’t let me hire a nanny. I can’t handle this alone.] His response was another barrage of blame. [And you think I can handle it any better?!] [You’re a mother now, a woman in your thirties. Stop being so damn dramatic!] [Every woman goes through this! What makes you so special? So fragile? You’re not a teenager anymore!] His words struck me dumb. I couldn’t believe a husband, a new father, could be so callous. I was about to type a furious reply when I saw it: a red exclamation mark. He had blocked me. From the bassinet beside the bed, the baby, sensing my distress, began to wail. I forced myself up, ignoring the searing pain in my abdomen, and went to soothe him. Looking at his tiny, red, crumpled face, a cold realization dawned on me. Since the moment I went into labor, Caden had not once asked how I was, or how the baby was. Was it really just his “cold nature”? Or was it something else entirely? Utter, absolute indifference. After rocking the baby back to sleep, I opened Wildcat’s blog again, torturing myself by scrolling through her past posts. When I reached the very beginning, I covered my face with my hands as silent, hot tears streamed through my fingers. The dates of every single one of her trips, her “romantic getaways,” corresponded perfectly with every single one of Caden’s “business trips” and “training exercises.” It was true. He was cheating on me. When the tears finally ran dry, a cold, hard calm settled over me. I called my assistant and booked the first flight to the Middle East. Without a word to his mother, I dropped the baby off with the trusted nannies at my family’s estate. The next day, I was standing on the sun-scorched earth of an ancient land. I had to see it with my own eyes. Only then would I let my heart truly die. I used Wildcat’s latest post to find her location, staking out a spot near the ruins of the Hanging Gardens. I disguised myself, wrapped in scarves like a thief. My C-section scar throbbed violently, a pain that even the strongest painkillers couldn’t completely numb, a searing pain that crawled through me like thorny vines. Then I saw her. The blogger, Wildcat. My heart leaped into my throat. She was tan and tall, radiating a vibrant, youthful energy. She was undeniably beautiful. And the man beside her— He stood straight and proud, his handsome face softened by a gentle, adoring expression. An undeniable pair. Anyone would say they looked perfect together. If only the man hadn’t been my husband of ten years. Even the t-shirt he was wearing… I had picked it out for him myself. The world went dark at the edges. There, in front of the ruins of a wonder of the ancient world, my husband was kissing another woman. Wildcat’s post from the night before flashed in my mind: The Gods of Babylon will forever bless lovers who kiss before their temple. It was over. Maybe it was because I had prepared myself for the worst, but in that moment of shattering heartbreak, my first instinct was strangely clinical. I raised my phone and took a picture. Evidence. My heart was a gaping wound, but my mind was crystal clear. For the rest of the day, I shadowed them. I watched Wildcat leap onto Caden’s back like a playful child. Caden—the man who was so stoic with me he’d never once uttered a word of sweet-talk—was now carrying her with a tender smile I had never seen before. I remembered once, by the river at night, I’d asked him to take a picture of me with the city lights. He’d refused instantly. “My hands are for holding a gun, Grace. Not for doing useless things like that.” But now, this same man was patiently taking shot after shot as Wildcat handed him her camera, posing and preening. So, all those third-person photos on her blog… they were taken by my husband, whose hands were “only for holding a gun”? A desolate coldness seeped into my bones. It wasn’t that he couldn’t. It was that I wasn’t worthy of it. I pulled out my phone and dialed his number. His phone rang. I watched him, my expression unreadable. Wildcat leaned over to see the screen, then pouted. I was close enough to hear every word. “Is it that old hag again?” she whined. “Hang up! Or I’ll get mad! Your time is my time! You are mine! She already has your marriage, your love can only be mine! Your eyes, your heart, your body—they all belong to me!” Faced with her tantrum, Caden immediately went to soothe her. My call, unsurprisingly, was rejected. The next time I tried, I’d been blocked. The sun was blindingly bright, but I felt a chill deep in my bones. And this woman, this vibrant, sunny creature, was a willing homewrecker. Just then, another message came from my grandfather’s assistant. As I read the contents, the full, sickening scope of the deception came into focus. Eight years ago, Caden had an accident during a mission in the mountains. He’d fallen into a ravine. His captain called me immediately. Frantic, I’d rushed to the airport, and on the way, I got into a car crash. While I was in the ICU, fighting for my life, my husband, Caden, was in a remote village, celebrating a makeshift wedding ceremony with Wildcat. She was the one who had found him in the ravine and “saved” him. After a few nights alone together, her parents had used her “ruined reputation” to force Caden to marry her, demanding a hefty sum to make things right. I suddenly remembered Caden asking me for thirty thousand dollars around that time. He’d said it was for the widow of a colleague who had died in the line of duty. I had personally funded his dowry to another woman. And shortly after that, he’d approached me with the idea of sponsoring her education. I was the fool. The clown in their twisted little play. If he was going to betray our marriage, then he could not blame me for being ruthless. I didn’t just want a divorce. I wanted to ruin him. I followed them all day, numbly documenting every kiss, every touch, every loving glance. That night, Wildcat’s blog updated again. As I suspected, the photos were all taken from Caden’s perspective. The title was another dagger to my heart: Marriage is Nothing. True Love is Everything! I finally understood. The nonsensical, unrelated titles were her justification. The pathetic mantra of a mistress trying to paint her affair as something noble. To my surprise, she added a little note at the end of the post. [Hey guys, my amazing boyfriend got me a job offer at a Fortune 500 company! Should I take it?] [Oh, and I mentioned I needed a new car today, and he said he’d buy me a luxury car when we get back home! I’m so spoiled!] The comments were a flood of fawning praise. [I’ve followed Wildcat forever! Their love is like a fairytale, and her boyfriend is crazy rich! He buys her designer everything!] [Marry him already, girl! Before someone else snatches him up!] Wildcat replied personally to that second comment. [When you have true love, who needs marriage? Marriage is just a safety net for people who aren’t really loved!] I laughed out loud, a harsh, grating sound. With Caden’s police salary, he couldn’t afford a single one of the designer bags she flaunted. But I, worried he might be short on cash, transferred him hundreds of thousands of dollars in “spending money” every month. He had been using my money to fund his “true love.” Suddenly, my phone buzzed with that special notification tone. Caden had unblocked me. [Cooled down yet? Had a night to think about it?] [If you pull a stunt like that again, I won’t be so forgiving.] [Oh, by the way, the widow of my fallen comrade needs a car. You have that Maybach in the garage, right? Give it to her. It’s the least I can do.] [And talk to your father. I have a friend who needs a senior management position at his company. Make sure you take care of her.] The audacity. The sheer, unmitigated gall. When I loved him, I would have given him the world. I extended that generosity to all his friends and family. That kindness had not only given him the courage to be arrogant but had also fed his greed and his nerve. And now, he was shamelessly asking me to provide for his mistress. This was the man I had loved for ten years. I took a few deep breaths, forcing the rage down, and typed out the compliant, agreeable response he wanted to hear. Pleased with my “reasonableness,” he chatted for a bit longer, even graciously informing me that he had a celebratory banquet with his squad next week and wouldn’t be coming home that night. I simply agreed. After all, the best dishes, and the best dramas, are worth waiting for. I had a very special gift planned for him.

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