Category: English

My mother is a doctor with Doctors Without Borders. When I was in an accident with her colleague’s daughter, she chose to operate on her adopted child first. But when I woke up, my memory was gone. I was sixteen again, back in the year my parents had just returned from a war zone. 1. “Ava, just hold on. We’re at your mom’s hospital. She’ll save you, I promise.” My consciousness was fading, the world blurring at the edges. My aunt’s frantic, desperate voice was the only thing anchoring me. A flicker of hope sparked within me. My mother was a renowned surgeon, a hero who had saved countless lives on the front lines. She had a reputation to uphold. But a moment later, Mila, who had arrived after me, grabbed a nurse’s arm and shrieked, “Dr. Evelyn Reed is my mother! Tell her I’m here! I hit my head, and my eyes… my eyes really hurt! I think I might be going blind!” A chill washed over me. Mila had been in the same car crash, but her injuries were nothing compared to mine. Still, competing for my mother’s affection had become her favorite pastime since she’d moved in with us. Every single time, I had lost. But my mother was a doctor. She’d always said that in her hospital, patients were patients. It didn’t matter who you were; the only thing that mattered was the severity of the injury. The one closest to death always came first. I didn’t want to die. A sliver of hope remained. She has to save me first. But the moment my mother saw Mila, her face hardened with decision. “Get her to an OR, now!” My aunt rushed forward, grabbing her arm. “Evelyn, look at Ava! She’s so hurt she can’t even speak! Please, just look at her!” At my aunt’s plea, my mother finally turned her gaze toward my gurney. She saw a face caked in blood, a body broken and still. Even a layman could tell who was in more danger—the pristine, barely scratched Mila, or me. Ten seconds stretched into an eternity. My mother took a deep, steadying breath. “Mila’s eyes were injured in a conflict zone. I can’t risk it. Another doctor can handle Ava. It’s the same.” A single tear escaped the corner of my eye as the world went black. The last thing I heard was my aunt’s choked sob. “The way you treat her… one day, you’ll regret this until your dying day.” 2. The world plunged into darkness. I felt like I was a child again, back in the small town where I lived with my grandmother. She was a bitter old woman who saw favorites, and I wasn’t one of them. Every day, she called me a burden, dead weight. She dressed me in my cousin’s old, baggy hand-me-downs and kept my hair cropped short like a boy’s. I was never allowed to eat at the table. I could only watch with hungry eyes as my younger cousin devoured all the snacks. By the time I was six, I was helping my grandmother cook, standing on a small stool to reach the stove. One day, my cousin, in a fit of mischief, kicked the stool out from under me. I fell hard, my forehead splitting open and a blistering red burn spreading across my arm. I staggered to my feet, the pain so intense that I fainted. When I woke up, I was being held in a pair of gentle arms. It was my mother. She had a unique scent, a mix of something sweet and the faint, clean smell of antiseptic. It was the first time in my memory that I had ever seen my parents. She carefully cleaned and dressed my wounds, murmuring apologies for all the years she’d been away. My father, seeing my filthy clothes, exploded at my grandmother, accusing her of using the money he sent for me to support my uncle’s family instead. It was only then that I realized I wasn’t an orphan. I had accomplished, important parents. My mother was a doctor with Doctors Without Borders, saving lives. My father was the first from our town to go to college and was now working overseas for Greenpeace, tackling global issues. But they had more important things to do than raise me. My father gave my grandmother a thick wad of cash, telling her to take better care of me. My mother wiped away tears as she packed her bags again. “We had to come back in such a rush,” she said, her voice thick with regret. “Ava’s burn is going to scar. We’ll have to wait until she’s older to fix it.” She told me about the sacred duty of saving others, planting a seed in my young mind. “Ava, when you grow up, you’ll understand why Mommy had to do this.” 3. Maybe I was born to be understanding. I took my mother’s words to heart and strived to be the perfect daughter. I threw myself into my studies, determined to follow in my father’s footsteps and claw my way out of that small town. My grandmother grumbled constantly, saying it was a waste for a girl to get so much education. She loaded me with chores, even making me wash my cousins’ underwear. I tried to call my parents, to tell them what was happening, but they were always busy, their phones often unreachable. Finally, New Year’s Eve arrived. I assumed the whole world celebrated. I borrowed the village chief’s phone and dialed their number. My father’s voice was weary. “Ava, you’re already a guest in your grandmother’s house. It’s not too much to ask for you to help with some chores.” A sour feeling churned in my stomach. I wanted to tell him that my grandmother refused to buy me the textbooks I needed, but then I heard my mother’s voice in the background. “David, come look at Mila’s drawing. Don’t you think Mr. Roberts will be pleased?” Then, a little girl’s cheerful voice. “Daddy, I’m going to get an A on this assignment, right?” The line went dead. Was that my parents’ new daughter? Had they replaced me? Tears streamed down my face, hot and unstoppable. 4. I dragged myself back to my grandmother’s house and collapsed into bed. She beat me for not helping with dinner, screaming that I was ungrateful. I developed a high fever that turned into pneumonia, but she refused to take me to a doctor. My Aunt Clara heard about it when she was visiting a neighboring village for the holidays. Heartbroken, she rescued me from my grandmother’s house and took me in. She assured me the girl on the phone was the daughter of my mother’s colleague, a doctor who had been killed in the line of duty. His wife had passed away from an illness years before, so my parents had adopted the girl, Mila. I naively thought that the daughter of such a kind man must be a wonderful person. I couldn’t have been more wrong. When I was sixteen, my parents decided to move back to the States permanently to give Mila a better education. They bought a house in the city and brought me from my aunt’s to live with them. I was reluctant to go, but my uncle resented my aunt for not having children and for spending money on me. Fearing I was a burden, and clinging to a desperate hope for my own parents’ love, I tried my best to fit into their family of three. My father bought a three-bedroom house. They gave me the smallest room, which was already cluttered with Mila’s piano and her overflowing wardrobe of beautiful dresses. “Mila has claustrophobia,” my mother explained. “She can’t be in a small space. You’ll have to let her have the bigger room.” But Mila would practice the piano whenever I tried to study, deliberately hitting wrong notes that made my head throb. One winter, my mother bought a box of expensive, imported cherries. Mila and I both loved them. I took one, and she immediately snatched the rest of the box and locked it in her room. I was about to tell her to share, to at least leave some for our parents, when my mother snapped at me. “Mila was with us while we were dodging bullets, while you were safe and sound here. How dare you fight with her over a single cherry?” I was lectured for being petty and selfish. To soothe Mila, my father brought home a box of gourmet sea urchins, just for her. “Mila’s father was a hero,” he told me earnestly. “A hero’s child deserves to be treated with kindness.” But my parents were heroes, too. So why had my entire life been filled with nothing but suffering? It took me a long time to understand. Not all parents love their children, especially one they didn’t raise. And I wasn’t a daughter they could be proud of. I had to fight tooth and nail just to get into a decent public high school, while they paid a hefty donation each year to send Mila to a prestigious private academy. Their friends and colleagues all praised them for their kindness and generosity. 5. I slowly opened my eyes. My aunt’s face swam into view, her eyes red and puffy from crying, with dark circles underneath. “Ava, you’re finally awake! You scared me half to death.” She told me I had a severe skull fracture and had lost a dangerous amount of blood. She’d been staring at the door, hoping someone would show up. Seeing me lying there quietly, she quickly added, “Your father is out of town on business, but he’s on his way back. Your mother is just swamped with work. She’ll be here as soon as she’s free.” Before I could respond, I overheard two nurses talking in the hallway. “That girl in the VIP room… she must be Dr. Reed’s real daughter, right?” “Definitely! A mother knows her own. The girl looked like she only had scrapes, but Dr. Reed was so worried she ran a whole battery of tests on her personally. Right now, she’s in there telling her to get off her phone and rest.” My aunt, afraid I’d be upset, quickly explained, “Your mother is just worried Mila might have a concussion. Don’t overthink it.” I looked at her, my expression one of pure confusion. “Isn’t my mother overseas? And… who’s Mila?” The apple in my aunt’s hand slipped from her grasp and rolled across the floor. Soon, the surgeon who had operated on me came to check my condition. After a thorough examination, he confirmed it. I had amnesia. My memory had reverted to before my parents returned to the country. My mother arrived an hour later. I looked up at her, my gaze calm and empty. There was nothing in my eyes but the cool distance one reserves for a stranger. She saw the thick white bandages wrapped around my head, and a flicker of panic entered her voice. “Ava… do you know who I am?” I studied her as if she were a complete stranger. “Are you a doctor here?” She walked stiffly to my bedside. “I’m your mother!” I lowered my eyes. “I don’t remember,” I said softly. “As I recall, I only met my mother once, when I was six. I remember growing up in a small town, and then my aunt took care of me. To me, Aunt Clara is my mother.” My own mother stared at me with an expression of pure disbelief. I could see the anger simmering beneath the surface. The truth was, I hadn’t lost my memory. When I was sixteen, seeing my parents for the first time in years had filled me with a desperate, hopeful joy. I was terrified they wouldn’t love me. I had cried and told them how much I’d missed them. But now, I was done pretending. I was done with this hollow imitation of a family. This time, I would be the one to sever the ties. 6. My mother refused to believe I’d forgotten her. She demanded test after test, but you can’t force memories into someone who is determined to forget. She was destined for disappointment. No matter how many times she asked, my answer was always the same: “I don’t remember you.” Finally, her hands clenched into tight fists, and she stormed out of the room. That night, Mila sauntered in to gloat. “I just had a few scratches, and Mommy was so worried she pulled strings to get me a VIP room,” she sneered. “Stuck in a six-person ward, Ava, isn’t it noisy?” “Are you auditioning for the role of my warden? Where I stay is none of your business.” She was clearly shocked that the normally submissive me would talk back. She stepped forward, reaching for the bandage on my head. I wasn’t an idiot. I kicked out, sending her sprawling to the floor. She burst into tears. “I was just trying to adjust your pillow! Why did you kick me?” “Some people lose weight by exercising,” I said sweetly. “Did you decide to start with your brain cells? I’m covered in injuries and can barely move, and you come at my head. Did you expect me to just lie here and take it?” My mother, who had just entered, saw the scene, and her face darkened. “Ava, Mila is your sister! How could you hurt her?” “Mommy,” Mila sobbed, “she must be angry that you saved me first. She’s taking it out on me.” She turned to me, her voice dripping with false sympathy. “Ava, Mom works so hard at the hospital. Can’t you just be a little more understanding and not cause her any more trouble?” My face was a mask of calm. “Could you two please stop performing this touching mother-daughter drama in front of me? I have no idea who you are. Why would I waste my energy on strangers?” My mother stared at me, her face turning a pale shade of green. “Ava, I am your mother. How dare you speak to me with that tone?” The old me never would have. I was always the good, obedient daughter, desperate for her and my father’s approval, swallowing every injustice without complaint. But now? Now I had amnesia. I didn’t care who she was. I pulled the covers up to my chin and lay down, pointedly ignoring them. My mother looked like she was about to explode, but she saw the other patients in the ward staring. It was like punching a pillow; she was left fuming, with nowhere to direct her anger. 7. When my father arrived at the hospital, he was carrying a large box of cherries. Mila’s face lit up. “Thank you, Daddy!” she chirped, taking the box. My father turned to me, his voice carrying its usual tone of gentle persuasion. “Ava, you’re the older sister. Let Mila have them, okay?” He knew that once Mila started on a box of cherries, she wouldn’t stop until they were gone. And she never shared. My gaze was cold, wary. “I don’t care. I don’t know you people, and I’m not eating anything you brought.” The color drained from my father’s face. In the past, no matter how unfairly I was treated at home, my eyes would still betray my desperate longing for their approval, for a single word of fairness. But now, he saw nothing in my eyes but a flat, empty calm. It was as if his own daughter saw him as nothing more than a distant, irrelevant relative. Someone she’d met once, but couldn’t quite place. His expression was a wall that screamed, Stay away from me. He looked defeated. “Ava, you used to admire your mother and me so much. How could losing a few years of memories turn us into strangers?” To the outside world, they were heroes. One cared for the entire planet’s climate; the other braved war zones to heal the sick and adopted her fallen comrade’s daughter. I had once been so proud of them. After we were reunited, I had showered them with the affection of a long-lost child, and they had basked in it. My current behavior was completely beyond his comprehension. “Ava,” he said, his voice filled with anguish. “How could you forget your own father?” 8. During my hospital stay, my father visited often. He searched the house for old photos, trying to spark my memory, but he couldn’t find a single picture of me with them. All he found were countless family portraits of him, my mother, and Mila at the zoo, at amusement parks, at pop concerts. I was never there. Unwilling to give up, he brought me a bouquet of pink roses. Mila’s favorite. When Aunt Clara arrived with a thermos of pork rib soup, she saw the flowers and immediately threw them in the trash. “David, have you completely forgotten that your own daughter is allergic to pollen?” My father froze. In my sophomore year of high school, Mila was preparing for a piano competition. She knew perfectly well I had a severe pollen allergy, but she deliberately paraded around the house with a bouquet of flowers my father had given her, waving them in my face. I broke out in hives. My mother saw it happening, but she didn’t want to disrupt Mila’s competition preparations. She told me to just endure it, that allergies were a minor thing. I felt like I was suffocating. I called Aunt Clara, who rushed over immediately. The doctor said if she’d been any later, it could have been critical. Aunt Clara called to confront Mila, but my mother defended her. “Ava knows she’s allergic. She shouldn’t have tried to take Mila’s flowers. She brought this on herself.” My aunt was so angry she started to cry. “Evelyn, you’re so biased it’s sickening! You believe every word Mila says and won’t even listen to Ava!” “Mila grew up by my side. I know what kind of person she is,” my mother had retorted. “Ava was corrupted by that grandmother and uncle of hers. She lies as easily as she breathes.” My father, not wanting his precious Mila to be wrongly accused, checked the security camera footage when he got home. He saw Mila sprinkling pollen on my pillow and in my food, causing the severe reaction. But he never said a word. From that day on, though, he was just a little bit nicer to me. 9. My father’s face was flushed with embarrassment. “Ava, I… I forgot about your allergy.” I didn’t respond. I just sat on the hospital bed and offered him a tight, sarcastic smile. The police arrived. Their investigation suggested the car crash was suspicious. The car had suddenly swerved off the road and hit a traffic light pole. At the time, only Mila and I were in the vehicle. The dashcam was destroyed, and there was no CCTV footage of the car’s interior. Suddenly, Mila spoke up, her voice clear and confident. “I remember now! Ava was arguing with me in the car. She grabbed the steering wheel, and that’s what caused the crash.” My mother immediately backed her up. “That’s right! Ava has always had a terrible temper. She’s prone to fits and always bullies Mila.” The officer asked Mila why she was only saying this now. She hid behind my mother. “Ava was hurt so badly… I didn’t want to make things worse for her. I was afraid it would upset Mom and Dad.” My mother gave her a look of profound approval before glaring at me. I lowered my eyes. “Officer, I’m sorry. I have amnesia and can’t recall the specifics of that day. But I can assure you, I am not a hot-tempered or impulsive person.” Aunt Clara stepped forward. “Ava is an excellent driver and has a very calm demeanor. Even if they were arguing, she would never jeopardize her own life or the lives of others.” With two conflicting stories, the police had to continue their investigation. My father approached the officer. “Officer, this is a private family matter. Both my daughters are fine. Can’t we just let this go?” I knew he had figured it out. Mila was blinking rapidly, her tell-tale sign when she was lying. He used to think it was a cute, quirky habit. But for the sake of the daughter he had raised, he chose to protect her. Mila looked triumphant, smugly satisfied with her own lie. I gave my father a single, level look. He couldn’t meet my gaze.

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From the fragmented memoirs of Alistair, Scribe of the Forgotten Histories, circa 872 A.E. (Aethelgard Era): …and among the scrolls recovered from the Sunstone Citadel’s ruin, one codex stands apart. Bound not in leather but in some strange, vellum-like material, it tells a story of cyclical tragedy. It speaks of a knight, a curse, and a world undone. The script is maddening, shifting between high verse and what appear to be cold, analytical notations. I have transcribed what I can decipher, though I fear the full truth of it is lost to the ages. It begins with an execution… 1. The day they bound me to the Divine Execution Array, I was reborn as the fallen paladin of a forgotten age. Behind them, Lian, the Order’s cherished prodigy, watched me with a triumphant smirk. My mentor, High Mentor Lyra, swung her blade, severing the tendons in my wrists and ankles. “Traitor,” she hissed, her voice colder than the steel of her sword. “For your arrogance, for your cruelty to a brother-in-arms, for casting young Lian into the Abyssal Maw—do you confess your sins?” Sins? I, who had shattered my own Spiritual Roots¹ to defend this very Order from a demonic horde—was that a sin? A voice, not my own, screamed in the hollows of my soul. You are the 108th Soul. If you fail, this pact is void, and I shall be unmade! Play the part! Remind them of their love for you, you fool! A slow smile touched my lips. In the next instant, I reversed the flow of my inner light, channeling it all toward my Golden Core. “I confess,” I whispered, my voice carrying across the silent plaza. “Every dark deed was mine. Kill me. Let it be done.” Who says death isn’t its own form of victory? The chains sizzled against my skin, etched with runes meant to purify by fire. A buzzing filled my head, but it wasn’t fear. It was the damned whispering of the Pact I was bound to. 【Trial Integrity Critical. Subject’s Trust Metrics at Nadir. Initiate Protocol Omega. Choose Thy Path:】 【A. Prostrate Thyself. Beg for Absolution. Pity is a Weapon.】 【B. Argue Thy Case. Seek the Truth, Though It May Slay Thee.】 【C. Maintain Thy Silence. Let Their Doubt Be Thy Shield.】 I couldn’t even be bothered to open my eyes. As the 108th soul to walk this path, I had witnessed the echoes of the 107 who came before me. Their failures were my scripture. Beg, and they would call it the confession of a guilty soul. Argue, and they would name it the sophistry of a cornered liar. Silence, and they would see it as the stubborn pride of a fallen man. Every path led to the same abyss. Beyond the shimmering heat of the Array stood the three women who had once defined my world. My mentor, the High Mentor of the Order of the Empyrean Sun, Lyra. Her beauty was legendary, like a sculpture carved from starlight, but now her eyes were filled with disgust, as if gazing upon a masterpiece defiled by filth. “Traitor. Have you any final words to stain the air with?” My sister-in-arms, Seraphina. Once the closest person to me in the world, she now stood with her jaw clenched, her gaze fixed on the ground at my feet. “Silas… just confess. Please. If you show remorse, the High Mentor and I will plead for mercy on your behalf.” And my betrothed, Princess Isolde of the Silver Throne. Draped in the silks and jewels of her station, her voice was a cascade of icy contempt. “Silas Vallen, you are a profound disappointment. To be so consumed by envy… you possess none of the honor required of a future Prince Consort.” Behind them, nestled in the protective embrace of the other knights, was Lian. His shoulders shook with feigned sobs, but when his eyes met mine, they gleamed with undisguised victory. 【WARNING! THE PACT DEMANDS A CHOICE! FAILURE TO COMPLY WILL TERMINATE THE TRIAL!】 Terminate? Finally. The words I’d been waiting for. I slowly lifted my head, my gaze passing over each of them, calm and clear. They were braced for my denials, perhaps even for a final, desperate curse. I was done playing their game. “I have nothing to say.” My voice was raw, my connection to the Light sealed, but the words were sharp. Lyra’s face hardened. “Still you defy us.” I laughed, a dry, rattling sound. I looked at them, and for the first time, I didn’t see people. I saw lines of code. Puppets of Fate. “Mentor, you taught me the art of the blade, how to purge the unholy, but you never taught me that the hearts of men are more treacherous than any demon.” “Seraphina, do you remember? Who pulled you from the jaws of the great wyrm? Who took the blow that would have ended you? Your life is a debt owed to me.” “Your Highness,” I said, my eyes finally settling on Isolde. “Our betrothal was always a contract. You desired my celestial bloodline to secure your throne’s divine right. I sought your kingdom’s blessing to protect this Order. Do not pretend it was ever a matter of the heart.” They stared, stunned into silence. This was not in their script. The Voice in my head shrieked. 【WARNING! SUBJECT DEVIATING FROM FATED PATH! CATASTROPHIC FAILURE IMMINENT!】 Catastrophe? Wonderful. I closed my eyes, shutting out their shocked faces. I began to draw upon the last embers of my power, forcing them inward, backward, toward the nexus of my soul. Better to erase myself from the board than to be their pawn. “Silas! You would not dare!” Lyra was the first to realize. A crushing pressure, the weight of her authority, slammed down on me, trying to pin my spirit in place. But it was too late. The light reversed, converging on the alchemical magnum opus within me. The Golden Core, the culmination of a century of Soul Forging, began to glow like a dying star. To shatter one’s own Core was the most violent and final act a knight could perform. It offered no rebirth, no passage into the Light. Only oblivion. The color drained from Seraphina’s face. “No!” she screamed. For the first time, a flicker of panic crossed Princess Isolde’s regal features. Nothing they had anticipated was happening. I wasn’t begging. I wasn’t bargaining. I was choosing the one path they hadn’t accounted for. I was choosing to prove my innocence with my own annihilation. As a bitter smile stretched my lips, the first crack appeared in my Golden Core. 2. But I did not die. My body felt like it had been ground to dust and hastily glued back together. The forge of my soul, where my Core once burned, was a cold, empty void. I forced my eyes open. Through a halo of hazy light, I saw three familiar faces. Their expressions were a chaotic masterpiece of shock, confusion, and a subtle, rising anger at being deceived. “You’re awake,” Lyra said. Her voice was brittle, stripped of its usual authority. The look in her eyes was one I had never seen before: doubt. “Why would you do such a thing? Attempt to shatter your own soul simply to prove a point?” I looked at her, wanting to laugh, but I lacked the strength to even smile. There she is, I thought. My mentor. Even now, she clings to her judgment, twisting my final act of defiance into a motive she can comprehend: pride. “High Mentor,” Lian sobbed, leaning weakly against Seraphina. “It’s all my fault. If not for me, Brother Silas would never have…” Seraphina’s body went rigid. She started to comfort him, but her hand froze in mid-air. Her gaze snapped to me, her brow furrowed in a tormented knot. “But… Silas, you shattered your own ancestral blade to save me from that archdemon. You told me the bonds of the Order were worth more than life itself. How could that man… how could you possibly try to harm a novice out of simple jealousy?” Before anyone could answer, Princess Isolde stepped forward, her shadow falling over me. She sneered. “Bonds of the Order? Seraphina, your naivete is astounding.” Her eyes, sharp as obsidian shards, bored into me. “You hate me that much, don’t you, Silas? You hated that I showed Lian my favor. You would rather destroy your power, our betrothal, everything—just to spite me with this grand, tragic gesture. To make me regret it for all my days. Is that it?” I listened to their theories, and a sense of profound, weary absurdity washed over me. Proving a point? A crime of passion? Each of them had taken my incomprehensible action and molded it into a story that fit their narrative, a story that preserved their own innocence. The truth was irrelevant. All that mattered was what they chose to believe. My silence became my confession. The three of them fell quiet, the air thick with suffocating tension. Even Lian’s sobs subsided as he sensed the situation spiraling beyond his control. Finally, Lyra broke the silence. She waved a tired hand, her voice heavy with judgment. “Enough. There may be more to this than it seems. But your extremism is a fact.” She turned her back to me, her voice turning to ice. “Take him… to the Glacial Keep. Shatter what remains of his Core and let him contemplate his sins in the cold.” Shatter my Core. The Glacial Keep. I closed my eyes. The tiny spark of life they had forcibly rekindled within me seemed to freeze at those words. Fine. If I couldn’t die, I would simply wait in a different kind of darkness. 3. They threw me onto the floor of the keep. My bones cracked against the Millennial Ice with a dull thud. The pain was immense, but it was nothing compared to the agony of my Core tearing itself apart. My vision blurred. The faces of those who had condemned me swam in my mind: Lyra’s cold mask of righteousness, Seraphina’s disappointed sorrow, Isolde’s venomous accusations. And Lian’s face, a perfect portrait of innocence concealing a rot that ran soul-deep. After an eternity, the great iron door of the keep ground open. It was not just Seraphina this time. High Mentor Lyra, Princess Isolde, and several of the Order’s Elders entered. Lian followed in Lyra’s wake, casting a timid glance at me, a flicker of cruel satisfaction in his eyes. I was leaning against the ice wall, too weak to stand. An Elder stepped forward, holding a crystal vial. His voice was devoid of emotion. “Silas Vallen, to prove Lian’s innocence and to grant you a final chance to prove your own, you will drink this Draught of Truth.” I looked at the vial and let out a low, ragged laugh. Just what I needed. My laughter echoed strangely in the silent dungeon. Isolde frowned. “What is so amusing? Do you feel no remorse, even at death’s door?” I ignored her, raising my gaze to Lyra. “Mentor, if this proves my innocence, what then?” Lyra’s expression was unmoved, as if she were addressing a stubborn rock. “If you are innocent, the Order will grant you justice.” Grant me justice. How generous. Without hesitation, I took the vial and, to their visible surprise, drank it in one motion. As the elixir took hold, my tongue felt like a foreign object in my mouth. Lian stepped forward, his confidence absolute. He asked in his soft, gentle voice, “Brother Silas, why did you push me into the Serpent’s Pit? What did I ever do to offend you?” It was a masterfully crafted question, framing the verdict as a forgone conclusion. All I had to do was explain my motive. Every eye was on me, awaiting the expected answer. I lifted my heavy eyelids and looked at his pitiable face. The magic of the draught worked through me, and I heard my own voice, calm and detached, speak the truth. “I did not push you.” 4. Lian’s expression froze. An Elder immediately interjected, his voice sharp. “Lies! Then why did you repeatedly sabotage him, steal his opportunities, and destroy his alchemical reagents?” My gaze drifted slowly across the room, from Lyra to Seraphina, to Isolde. In my eyes, their faces began to dissolve, resolving into meaningless strings of data. “I never harmed him,” my voice was hollow, honest, and filled with a weariness they could never comprehend. “I was only trying to complete the trial, so I could go home.” “Go home?” Seraphina took a step closer, a tremor in her voice she couldn’t hide. “Silas, you’re speaking nonsense. The Order is your home.” “No.” I shook my head. The elixir made lying impossible. “This is not my home. And you… you are all just puppets of Fate in my trial.” “Puppets?” The word detonated in the silent keep. They stared at each other, their faces blank with confusion. “What is this heresy you speak of?” Isolde demanded. Lian’s triumphant smile was now a rigid mask of shock. He had prepared for denials, for pleas, for anything but this incomprehensible madness. But Lyra’s face turned ashen. Her eyes locked on mine, and a terrifying, murderous intent blazed within them. “The whispers of the Void…” she breathed, each word a shard of ice. “So, you were not merely tempted. Your soul was taken. A soul-snatcher from the Outer Dark wears your face. No wonder you became this… monstrosity.” I looked at her and felt a sudden, overwhelming urge to laugh. Behold their logic. What they cannot understand, they label demonic. She had found her answer. And in doing so, she had sealed my fate. Lyra slowly raised her sword—Whispering Gale—the same blade she had once used to teach me my first stance. Its tip glowed with holy light, aimed directly at my forehead. “Abomination,” her voice echoed through the keep, cold as the abyss. “Today, I shall personally purify your stolen soul and end this corruption!” I closed my eyes and let a faint smile touch my lips. Good. Finally.

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Rumor has it the Best Actress is a homewrecker, caught in a scandalous affair. At the awards ceremony, she set the record straight right on stage. “That’s not true. Susan has already agreed to be my girlfriend.” Down in the audience, I was completely floored. When did I agree to that? We were just trying things out for seven days! 1 The A-list actress Vivian Monroe was chasing me, and the whole of Hollywood knew it. It got so bad that even the stray dogs on the studio backlot would give me a look that said, So, Susan, have you said yes to Vivian yet? “No, no, NO!” I shrieked, finally snapping at one of them. “How many times do I have to say it? I did not say yes!” Just as I was losing my mind at a golden retriever, Vivian appeared. She held out a check. I instinctively recoiled, clutching my chest. “What do you think you’re doing? I didn’t come to Hollywood to sell my body.” “I came here to outlast everyone!” I declared. “I’ll watch the druggies, the gamblers, the liars, and the creeps burn out, and then it’ll be my turn to shine!” Vivian simply flipped her wrist, revealing the number written on the check. Pfft. A measly… My eyes widened as I counted the zeroes. One, ten, hundred, thousand… holy… mother… of God. “A billion dollars?” I looked up, my voice trembling slightly. “Are you trying to buy my soul?” A flicker of fear crossed my face. “A billion dollars,” Vivian said, her voice smooth as silk, “to be my girlfriend for seven days.” I stood there, blinking, my mind racing. In this world—the one I’d woken up in—I was an actress who’d shot to fame overnight thanks to a low-budget web series. The critics had called me a star born from the heavens. But the hype faded as quickly as it came, and soon I was a nobody again, completely off the Hollywood map. Well, not a complete nobody. I was still famous for one thing: Vivian Monroe, the titan of the film industry who had swept every major award, was in love with me. After my fifteen minutes of fame were up, my paychecks got smaller and smaller. I thought my first seven-figure deal was the beginning, but it turned out to be my peak. But if I dated Vivian for seven days, I could get a billion dollars. Suddenly, outlasting anyone seemed like a terrible plan. I gingerly took the check from her, then paused. “Is that pre-tax or post-tax?” Vivian’s brow furrowed almost imperceptibly. “I didn’t say anything about sleeping with you.” I gasped, mortified. “No, not that!” I scrambled to explain. “I mean T-A-X! The money that goes to the government!” She just looked more confused. “Which one?” Right. An A-lister like her probably didn’t spend her time on internet meme pages. 2 With a billion-dollar check in hand, the first thing I did was buy a sprawling villa right on the coast. The second was to drop ten grand into my small fan community’s server chat. Finally, remembering I had a job to do, I gave Vivian a call. “Hello, my generous benefactor. What’s on the agenda for today?” Even though she was only a year older than me, she was signing the checks, so a little respect was in order. “I have an awards ceremony tonight,” Vivian’s cool voice came through the phone. My heart soared. “Excellent! I’m sure you’re swamped, so I’ll let you get to it. Have a great time!” I was about to hang up, marveling at how easy this gig was, when her voice stopped me. “You’re coming with me.” Wait, what? I hadn’t had a project out in eight months. What was I going to do at an awards show? Besides, I didn’t even have an invitation. As if reading my mind, Vivian added, “The invitation and a car will be at your door in thirty minutes.” The benefactor had spoken. All I could do was offer my thanks. “Wow. Your efficiency is terrifying.” I had no idea that “terrifying” was just the beginning. Later that night, Vivian was on stage accepting her Golden Griffin award. The host asked for her acceptance speech. She stood at the podium, her gaze drifting over the audience until it landed squarely on me. “I’d like to take this moment to clarify something for all my fans,” she began, her voice ringing through the auditorium. “There is nothing going on between myself and the actor Louis. I have never interfered in his relationship with any other starlet.” She paused, a small smile playing on her lips. “The person I’m in love with is Susan Summers.” “So, no, I’m not some desperate homewrecker. That’s not true. Susan has already agreed to be my girlfriend.” The entire room erupted. Everyone was cheering, celebrating the queen of Hollywood finding her true love. Everyone except me. I was just staring, dumbfounded. When did I agree to that? We were just trying things out for seven days! On day one of our billion-dollar contract, I’d already been played. I knew this money wouldn’t be easy to earn. This was way, way worse than just sleeping with her. As Vivian finished her speech, the camera operator swung a lens right onto my face. I had to instantly plaster on a smile, a perfect eight-teeth-baring grin, while my mind was screaming. You magnificent bastard! You absolute, magnificent bastard! 3 As soon as she accepted her award, Vivian whisked me out of the ceremony. Inside the back of a stretch Rolls-Royce, I finally found my voice. “Why’d we leave so early?” “Any later,” Vivian said, her tone dry, “and we’d be getting invitations to be passed around directors’ hotel rooms like party favors.” “Really? That’s never happened to me.” I frowned, thinking back. “No one’s ever even hinted at anything like that.” Vivian glanced at me, a hint of a smirk in her voice. “Why do you think I made sure the entire industry knew I was pursuing you?” My lips parted. “To… to keep the creeps away from me?” Vivian chuckled softly. “Not as clueless as I thought.” A wave of warmth washed over me. Wow. Maybe I’d misjudged her. She was actually… kind of a good person. I gazed out the window at the glittering city lights, a genuine smile on my face. “So, where are we headed? Are you taking me somewhere fun?” “Mhm,” Vivian hummed, her voice flat. “We’re going to have some fun. In my apartment.” In an instant, the smile froze on my face. 4 PH-1314. I stared at the number on Vivian’s penthouse door. “Are you secretly a hopeless romantic or something?” I asked. Vivian’s mouth twitched, and she pulled me inside before I could say more. My jaw dropped as I took in her apartment. A fluffy pink couch. A pink coffee table. A pink dining set. Pink… everything. The only thing that wasn’t pink was the walls. I was stunned. The ice queen of Hollywood was secretly a Barbie girl. “You really like pink, huh?” I asked, bewildered. “I hate it,” she replied instantly. I blinked, processing this. “Well,” I said, a slow grin spreading across my face. “I know someone who does.” Vivian looked at me. “Who?” I met her gaze, my eyes filled with the conviction of someone about to swear a sacred vow. “Me. I love pink.” Before she could respond, I launched into a heartfelt speech. “Vivian, look, I know you like me, but you really didn’t have to redecorate your entire apartment for me. It’s a lot of pressure. And besides, this whole thing is over in seven days. I’m worried you’ll be surrounded by all this pink and have a complete breakdown when I’m gone.” I paused for dramatic effect, then patted her shoulder consolingly. “But hey, for a billion dollars, I’ll throw in some after-care service. If you start missing me, just give me a call, okay?” Vivian rubbed her temples, looking like she’d just been hit with a wave of secondhand embarrassment. She walked into her bedroom and returned two minutes later, thrusting a set of pajamas into my arms. “Go take a shower.” I looked down. She’d even provided a full set of undergarments. Wait a second. How did she know my size? Had she been researching me that intensely? Oh my god, this was so embarrassing! And she wanted me to shower the moment we got home! Which meant, after the shower… “What are you thinking about?” Vivian waved a hand in front of my face. I snapped back to reality, my cheeks burning. “Nothing. Just… wondering where I’ll be sleeping?” Vivian turned and pointed back toward the bedroom she’d just come from. “In there. With me.” I swallowed hard. “I don’t know if that’s… appropriate. You said I didn’t have to sleep with you.” Vivian paused. “Is just sharing a bed considered sleeping with someone now? Relax,” she promised. “I’m not going to do anything to you.” Why did that sound exactly like something a player would say? Seeing my hesitation, she added, “I just want you to read me a bedtime story.” I stared at her, completely baffled. Vivian Monroe was paying me a billion dollars… to read her a story? This was way weirder than any casting couch proposition. “Just a story? That’s it?” I had to confirm. “That’s it. Now go wash up. You first, then me.” 5 After my shower, I was sitting propped against the headboard while Vivian lay tucked under the covers. She reached over, opened her nightstand drawer, and pulled out a book, tossing it to me. I read the title aloud. “365 Bedtime Stories for Children.” Then I saw the fine print at the bottom. “Suitable for ages 3 to 9.” If I remembered correctly, Vivian Monroe was twenty-nine years old. Who the hell, at twenty-nine, pays a billion dollars to have someone read them children’s stories?! I didn’t buy it. She had to be up to something. For the sake of my virtue, I’d have to sleep with one eye open tonight. “Is there a problem? Why aren’t you reading?” Vivian’s voice cut through my thoughts. The benefactor had spoken. I quickly sat up straight, opened the book, and began reading in my most soothing, storyteller voice. … I don’t know how long I read. All I remember is being so exhausted that my yawns became more frequent than my words, my speech slurring into a drowsy mumble. In the hazy moments before sleep took me, I felt Vivian’s fingers intertwine with mine, and I thought I heard her ask me something. But I drifted off before I could make out the words. 6 I woke up in the middle of the night, jolted awake by a stomachache of epic proportions. I scrambled out of bed, muttering curses under my breath as I bolted for the bathroom. That’s what I get for gorging on all those fancy imported snacks in Vivian’s dressing room. As I stepped out of the bedroom, I heard a strange, choked sound. It sounded like someone was crying. I froze. “Vivian, you have to come with me…” I turned back to the bed, only to find it empty. My brow furrowed. Was that Vivian crying? I flicked on the hallway light and followed the sound. It was coming from the main bathroom. “Vivian? Is that you in there?” I knocked on the locked door. The crying stopped. A hoarse voice answered, “Who is it?” “Who else would it be?” I said with a sigh. “It’s me, Susan.” The door swung open with a bang, and a reeking-of-alcohol Vivian practically fell into my arms. “Susan, I love you so much,” she slurred. My body went rigid. My hands hovered in the air, unsure of where to land. Vivian pressed her face into the crook of my neck. “Susan, we’ve been together for nine years. How could you just… stop loving me?” she whispered, her voice cracking. “Susan, why did you forget me? What did I do wrong? Tell me, and I’ll fix it. I’ll change.” Her words sent a shiver down my spine. I’d never been with Vivian. Where did nine years come from? Or falling out of love? Or forgetting? Wait a minute. Was she mistaking me for someone else? Did Vivian have some epic, tragic love affair before she met me? And was she dumped, left heartbroken, forced to find a replacement for her lost love? Which would make me… the substitute? Oh my god. Was the story I’d woken up in some kind of tropey substitute-lover romance? This was so damn cliché. Vivian pressed closer, her hot breath ghosting across my neck. “Susan, you used to read to me, but you’d never get more than three sentences out before you’d turn off the light, pull me into your arms, and we’d…” A fresh wave of goosebumps erupted on my skin. I cut her off before she could finish. “Vivian, I would love to hear all about your tragic backstory later, but right now, I really, really have to take a crap!” With that, I pushed her away, ducked into the bathroom, and locked the door behind me.

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It was a game of “King’s Command,” and my husband’s best female friend drew the penalty card. “Reveal a secret about the King,” the card read. Liam was the King. Her eyes flickered to me, and she gave a sly little wink. “Every time Liam sleeps with you, sis,” she announced to the room, “he has to get my permission first.” The air in the room turned to ice. She licked her lips, a smug smile playing on them. “Oh, don’t be so awkward, everyone! It’s Liam’s birthday! I thought we were all adults who could take a joke.” 1 “Alright, alright,” someone muttered, trying to break the tension. “Let’s just say she failed the challenge.” Melanie, Liam’s friend, picked up her glass. But before she could take a sip, a large hand covered the rim. Liam. He looked around at the silent, stone-faced crowd. “Why isn’t it a secret?” he declared, his voice booming. “Melanie passed. The game continues.” Melanie’s smile widened. She set her glass down, her gaze sliding over to me, deliberately provocative. “See? Liam always has my back. You guys are no fun at all.” A few people forced a laugh. Others, the more sober ones, shot nervous glances my way, trying to smooth things over. “Melanie and Liam have known each other since they were kids,” one of them stammered. “It’s normal for them to be close. We… we get it…” Their laughter was hollow. “Okay, next round, next round!” I drew a card. My smile was serene, almost detached. “Alright. Then for the next penalty, let’s have the last two people who drew cards… do it. Right here, in front of everyone. Oh,” I added, my voice dripping with honey, “and no need to get permission.” Silence. Absolute, deafening silence. Liam’s face turned into a thundercloud. “Ava, are you insane?!” No one spoke. Melanie’s eyes welled up with tears. “Sis, you’re obviously targeting me. We all agreed it was ‘no holds barred’ for the birthday. I just played my card. What did I do to you?” I picked up the bottle of expensive liquor from the table. The golden liquid sloshed into a glass. “I hear you two have been close since you were kids,” I said, my voice dangerously soft. “So close he needs your permission to sleep with his own wife. I was starting to think your relationship was a lot more… physical.” “So let’s see it. For entertainment.” No one moved. I raised an eyebrow. “What’s the matter? Unwilling?” I pushed the full glass in front of Melanie. She shrank back, clutching Liam’s arm, her lip trembling in a perfect picture of wounded innocence. I smiled. “Fine. You can take the penalty drink instead. Choose. Either you drain this entire bottle, or…” I paused, letting the words hang in the air. “…I smash it over your pretty little heads.” 2 The room was frozen. I looked around at the faces, their forced smiles now plastered on like grotesque masks. “Why did everyone stop laughing?” I asked sweetly. “I thought it was a birthday. No holds barred, right?” “Ava—!” Liam’s voice was a roar. His face was livid. “Sit down. This isn’t a joke anymore. We’re playing a game, and you’re turning it into some kind of—” He cut himself off. I arched a brow. “Some kind of what? Realizing how trashy your little games are? Don’t be a sore loser. Either you do it, or you drink. Your choice.” People started getting up, trying to pull me away, to diffuse the situation. Melanie shot to her feet, her face beet red. “You have no right to humiliate me like this! We’re all adults here! What’s it to you if we play a few risqué games? No one even invited you!” Her eyes filled with tears again. Liam immediately jumped up, placing himself between her and me. “Ava, have you lost your mind?!” His friends swarmed around me, a chorus of appeasement. “Come on, Ava, Melanie didn’t mean anything by it. She’s just a kid.” “Yeah, we don’t even think of her as a girl. She’s just one of the guys. Liam definitely doesn’t see her that way.” “Two guys can’t… you know… do it.” Crash. In the scuffle, someone bumped the table. The open bottle of Louis XIII toppled over, spilling its expensive contents all over the floor. I laughed, a cold, sharp sound. I picked up a greasy plate and a bowl from the table and, with two swift movements, hurled them at the adulterous pair. “Since none of you seem to have a problem with this,” I announced, my voice ringing with clarity, “when you get home, I’ll have a little chat with your wives. Maybe they should start getting permission from other men before they sleep with you, too.” Liam’s face contorted with rage. He screamed my name, then scrambled for napkins to wipe the food off Melanie’s face. I grabbed my purse. I walked out, and just before the door closed, I did them the courtesy of locking it from the outside. Then I called the police. “Hello? I’d like to report a possible orgy and prostitution ring.” 3 I never knew Liam’s world was this sordid. If Melanie hadn’t insisted on throwing this disastrous birthday party, I would have continued to believe his friends were just your typical drinking buddies. I had no idea what kind of “flesh” they were actually interested in. The word “permission” echoed in my head, making me dizzy with rage. But divorcing him wasn’t an option. Our families were business partners. Our marriage was the glue holding several multi-million dollar projects together. It was disgusting, but I had a responsibility to more than just my own feelings. I took a deep breath just as a text from my mother-in-law came through. 【How is the birthday celebration going, you two? Sweet, I hope!】 【Your father wanted to have you over for dinner, but I told him young people need their own space. Didn’t want to bother you.】 【How about coming over to the main house for a visit tomorrow, after you’ve had your fun?】 I stared at the screen, unsure how to reply. Then my phone rang. It was Liam, his voice raw with fury. “Ava, what the hell is wrong with you? Do you know it’s illegal to file a false police report?!” I hung up on him and replied to his mother. 【Liam isn’t having a very good time. He went out with some friends to play games.】 【I heard from some people that there was some trouble with a woman, and the police got involved. I can’t reach him now.】 【Mom, what should I do? I’m so worried…】 4 I tried calling Liam back. As expected, his line was busy. I wondered if I’d still have to go to the main house tomorrow. He came home in the early hours of the morning. The smell of alcohol was mostly gone, replaced by an air of indescribable frustration and anger. He paced the living room for a few minutes before finally stopping in front of me. “It was just a joke from a young girl. Did you really have to make such a scene?” “A young girl?” I asked, my voice innocent. “I thought you didn’t see her as a woman.” He was speechless. Finally, he ground out, “You hit her, and then you had her hauled off to the police station. She was just trying to do something nice for my birthday, and you humiliated her, over and over.” “Ava, just because your family has money doesn’t give you the right to bully a normal girl.” I almost laughed at his twisted logic. “A normal girl? Her family’s company is on the verge of bankruptcy. Is that my fault, too?” “That’s not the point!” he snapped. “The point is you hurt her, and you scared her! Can’t you understand that?!” I just stared at him, my expression unreadable. He slowly lost his steam, his gaze shifting away uncomfortably. “It was just a game…” he mumbled. “Our whole group swore we’d never get married. I was the first one to break the pact. Melanie… she was heartbroken. She cried so much.” “Besides, she would have given permission anyway. It doesn’t actually affect you, Ava. There’s no reason for you to be upset.” The only sound in the dark room was the ticking of the clock. After a long silence, I nodded. “You’re right. That makes sense.” A flicker of relief crossed his face. I continued, “So from now on, before we do anything, I’ll need to get permission from my own male best friends. And my female ones, too.” He froze. “That’s different. This is about us. What does it have to do with them?” I just looked at him. He fell silent, his expression slowly souring. “Ava… you’re really something else.” 5 The aroma of food woke me. I opened my bedroom door to find the dining table laden with an exquisite dim sum breakfast. I recognized the style immediately—it was from Yu’s, my mother-in-law’s private teahouse. The family housekeeper bowed respectfully. “Madam, the young master ordered this for you.” The shrimp dumplings on my side of the table were translucent, topped with delicate crab roe. The congee in the bone china bowl was fragrant and savory. There were lava buns and coconut chicken soup. All the things I’d ever shown a slight preference for in front of his mother. The guest room door opened. Liam stumbled out, looking dazed. When he saw me, his eyes slowly cleared. After a quick trip to the bathroom, he came and sat opposite me. “Morning, honey. I had this made especially for you. Your favorites, right? Last night… you know I was drunk. I said and did a lot of stupid things. I didn’t mean any of it. You’re… you’re not still angry, are you?” He was practically groveling. I stirred my congee, the spoon clinking against the bowl. His smile faltered. The housekeeper discreetly placed a bowl in front of him. “Young master, your mother is expecting you both.” Liam let out a breath. “Look, I was out of line. I’ll talk to Melanie. I’ll make sure she never pulls a stunt like that again, okay?” He placed a shumai on my plate. “I’m apologizing. Come on, honey, at least acknowledge my effort.” I put down my chopsticks. “Are we still going to the main house or not?” 6 The mess last night had ended at the police station. I had no doubt it was my mother-in-law who had pulled strings to get Liam out. True or not, the last thing she would tolerate was a scandal that could tarnish the family name. As for our marriage, I suspected her attitude was simple: if we could be happy, great. If not, keep it quiet. Don’t make a scene. That was how most people in our circle operated. When we arrived at the main house, she greeted me with a brilliant smile, as if nothing had happened. “Ava, darling! Your father and I have been waiting for you.” Then she turned and slapped her son. “You brat! I told you to bring Ava home yesterday, and you insisted on going out with your friends. What’s so important that you had to upset your wife? You’d better not make Ava unhappy, or you’ll have me to deal with!” With those words, she effectively shut down any complaint I might have made. She pulled me to the sofa, all warmth and affection, and opened a wooden box. “Look, Ava. I saw this at an auction the other day and thought of you.” Inside was a stunning lavender jade bracelet. It was clearly worth a fortune. Before I could respond, there was a commotion at the door. Melanie bounced in, holding a Maltese puppy. “Liam! I saw your car! Why didn’t you tell me you were coming back to the main house? That’s not cool, leaving your friends in the dark. I wasn’t even mad at you for what happened, you know.” She feigned a pout, set the dog down, and made a playful grab for his crotch. The puppy, freed, darted around the room before suddenly making a beeline for the coffee table where the gift box sat. Crash. A teacup shattered, the pieces hitting the dog on the head. The puppy yelped. Melanie’s face changed in an instant. She rushed over, scooping up the dog, tears welling in her eyes. “Sis, how can you be so cruel to a helpless animal?! This is Liam’s family home, not yours! Even if you hate me, you don’t have to take it out on—” She didn’t get to finish her performance. “I’m the one who threw the cup,” my mother-in-law stated, her voice like steel. Melanie froze, a half-formed tear clinging to her eyelash. “Auntie…?” Her voice rose. “Who let this dog in here? Have I not made it clear that I am allergic to dog hair?!” 7 The ground floor fell silent. The servants exchanged nervous glances. I calmly picked up a new teacup and began to rinse it with hot water. “It’s just a mutt. No need to get so worked up over an uninvited guest, Mom.” Melanie’s face flushed with anger. “Who are you calling a mutt?!” I ignored her, continuing to prepare the tea. Liam finally snapped out of his trance and hurried over. “Come on, the bracelet wasn’t broken. Melanie didn’t mean for this to happen.” The dog’s name was “Lulu.” Which sounded exactly like “Lew,” Liam’s nickname. Realizing her slip, Melanie quickly corrected herself, tugging on his sleeve. “Auntie, Liam gave Lulu to me when he got engaged. He said he was afraid I’d miss him and cry, so Lulu was supposed to be a substitute…” The fragrance of the tea filled the air. I closed my eyes. Perhaps I was a fool for ever having faith in Liam. I slipped the lavender jade bracelet onto my wrist. It was cool against my skin. I smiled softly. “Mom, let’s just say Liam and I are even now.” Liam’s gaze fell on my wrist. His expression froze, and he stared at me in disbelief.

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My stepsister, Grace, took her entire class on a wilderness expedition in Africa, only to be ambushed by a remote, uncontacted tribe. She was in mortal danger. And me? I’m the only internationally certified wilderness expert of my caliber. Ten years of experience under my belt, with deep ties to chieftains across the continent. My father got Grace’s last desperate SOS and called me immediately. “Your sister ran into hostiles in the jungle. I need you on a plane, now. You’re leading the rescue.” I hung up without a word. When my stepmother couldn’t reach me, panicked for her daughter’s life, she rallied the other parents and stormed my apartment, kicking the door clean off its hinges. She froze, finding herself face-to-face with two uniformed police officers. I gave her a little wave, rattling the silver cuffs on my wrists. “Sorry,” I said with a thin smile. “My hands are tied.” 1. “Skylar, pack your things! Your father has a helicopter on standby. We can leave this instant!” my stepmother, Catherine, shrieked as she burst into my living room. “Grace was attacked by a native tribe in Africa! They’re saying there are cannibals out there, and all communication is down. We don’t know if she’s dead or alive!” Her frantic tirade stopped dead when she saw the gleaming steel locked around my wrists. She stared, dumbfounded. One of the officers beside me frowned, clearly annoyed by the intrusion. “Ma’am, please don’t interfere with police business.” “Wh-what?” “We received a complaint that this woman,” the officer gestured to me, “defrauded someone of five hundred dollars in an online romance scam. We have enough to bring her in for questioning. She’s coming with us.” I offered a placating smile and prepared to leave with them, but Catherine snapped out of her stupor. “No!” she screamed, grabbing my arm. “You can’t go! Grace is waiting for you to save her!” Tears streamed down her face. “What will happen to my daughter? She’s only eighteen! What if those… those savages get their hands on her?” I looked at her, my expression blank, completely devoid of the panic she expected. “Why are you coming to me? This is a job for the authorities. Call the police.” “Liam is a cop,” I added pointedly. “You should be calling him, not me.” Liam was Grace’s boyfriend. It was only fitting that he be the one to ride to her rescue. Besides, his skills in a fight far surpassed my own. The moment I said his name, Catherine’s fingers dug into my arm like talons. “Of course I know Liam’s a cop! But he’s never set foot in Africa! He doesn’t speak a word of the local dialects. How can I trust him to save Grace?” she hissed. “You’re the only one who can bring her back safely.” Her voice softened into a desperate, wheedling tone. “She’s your sister, Skylar. You grew up with her. How can you not be worried? She’s out there, hungry, cold, with nowhere to sleep…” I wrenched my arm free, my brow furrowed in annoyance. “I have to go with the officers. Don’t hold them up.” Seeing that I was ignoring her, she frantically dialed my father. The second the call connected, his furious roar filled the room. “Skylar, you ungrateful brat! Your sister could be dead or alive out there, and you’re just sitting at home, doing nothing?” “I’ve booked you a flight for tonight. You get your ass over there and assist the rescue, or I swear to God, you’re no longer my daughter. The Rhodes family will not have a disgrace like you!” I let out a cold laugh and shook my wrists, the handcuffs clinking musically. “Sorry, Dad. Can’t. I’ve got a date with a detective downtown. Got a statement to give.” Silence. I snorted and turned to leave with the officers. Just as I stepped over the threshold, Catherine’s voice, sharp and calculating, cut through the air behind me. “Skylar, it’s not just Grace who’s trapped. It’s her entire class—over forty students. Nearly half the group is missing with her.” She gestured to the crowd of anxious parents who had followed her here. “Look at them. These are the mothers and fathers of the missing. All these lives hanging in the balance, waiting for a savior. Can you really just stand there and do nothing?” 2. “Not my problem,” I said flatly, and walked away. Catherine’s shriek of pure rage echoed behind me, but she could only watch as the police led me away. I knew she wouldn’t give up, but the first person to visit me at the precinct wasn’t her. It was Liam. He set a cup of warm water in front of me. I didn’t touch it. He sat down, his face a mask of grim professionalism. “Grace’s situation is critical, Skylar. All their communications are dead. For all we know, she’s…” He trailed off, unable to finish. “The tribe in their last known location is notoriously hostile. There are old rumors of cannibalism—even the local government can’t control them. If they’ve captured her, it’s a death sentence.” He spoke with an urgent, breathless intensity. I just found it boring. “I see,” I said. My lack of reaction clearly stunned him. “What’s wrong with you, Skylar? That’s your sister out there! How can you be so cold?” I almost laughed. “A stepsister, Liam. And what happens to her has nothing to do with me.” “You—!” “Skylar, you are the best professional explorer in the country. I’ve read your files. You have extensive experience in high-risk extractions, and I know for a fact you’re on friendly terms with several African chieftains.” He started scribbling on a whiteboard, trying to map out a strategy, trying to convince me. “If you go, you can save them. I know you can.” When he saw my indifferent expression, his tone shifted from persuasion to command. “As a citizen, it is your duty to cooperate with this operation. I can officially compel you to assist.” How pathetic. I wasn’t some rookie he could intimidate. His posturing had zero effect on me. “Seriously? You, a cop, are going to lecture me about civic duty? Don’t try to pull rank on me, Liam,” I scoffed. “You can talk until you’re blue in the face, but I’m not going. If she dies, she dies. Sounds like bad luck, but again, not my problem.” My callousness finally broke him. His hands clenched into tight fists. He took a deep breath, his eyes narrowing as a new thought seemed to occur to him. “Is this about what happened?” he asked, his voice low. “Are you still angry that I called off our engagement?” Years ago, Liam and I were engaged. Then he met Grace and fell for her, breaking off our engagement and making me the laughingstock of the city. He actually thought this was my petty revenge. Such an ego. I was about to tear him apart when the door was kicked open. My father stood there, holding a sobbing Catherine in his arms. She was clutching something. The moment she saw me, she lunged, her hand flying out and cracking against my cheek. Then she threw the object onto the table. “Give me back my Grace!” she wailed. “This is all your fault! Give her back!” My eyes widened as I saw what it was. How could this be? It was impossible. 3. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this… not in this life. On the table lay a piece of bloody fabric—a shirt. The pattern, the colors… it was the exact one Grace had been wearing the day she left for Africa. Catherine was convinced her daughter was dead, and she was channeling all her grief and rage directly at me. “You heartless, ungrateful snake! You have no soul! That was your sister, and you wouldn’t even lift a finger to save her!” she shrieked. “I bet you’re happy now, aren’t you? You can finally inherit all of your father’s money! My poor, darling girl!” She collapsed into a pitiable, trembling heap. My father held her, his gaze burning with fury as he looked at me. “Skylar, even with Grace gone, don’t think you’ll see a single dime from me,” he growled. “I’d rather donate every cent to charity, give it to the stray dogs on the street, than leave it to an emotionless bastard like you.” I frowned, a seed of doubt planting itself in my mind. In my past life, this never… Suddenly, I caught a flicker of cunning in Catherine’s eye. And in that instant, I understood. The panic in my chest vanished. Faced with their accusations, I just smiled serenely. “So? What does that have to do with me?” I asked. “She’s the one who was stupid enough to go playing explorer in Africa. If she got herself killed, she has no one to blame but herself.” Liam, who had been lost in his own grief, snapped his head up. My words ignited the fury in his heart. He lunged forward and slapped me, hard. The sharp crack echoed in the room. My left cheek immediately began to swell and throb. “Is that something a human being would say?” he roared, his voice thick with outrage. “Grace is gone! And you’re standing there spouting that garbage? How dare you! She was your sister! Maybe not by blood, but she was your family, the person you saw every single day!” “Skylar, I was so wrong about you,” he seethed, breathing heavily. “You’re nothing but a cold, soulless monster.” He finished, so choked with anger he could barely speak. The crowd of parents gathered at the door stared at me, their expressions a mixture of disgust and horror. “Can you believe her? A world-renowned explorer with years of rescue experience, and she just lets them die out there.” “And Grace was her own sister! While her sister was facing God knows what, she was here sleeping soundly. Some big sister.” “Those poor parents outside are crying their eyes out, practically begging her on their knees to help, and she won’t budge. She’s made of ice.” Liam glared at me with pure hatred, clutching the bloody shirt as if it were a sacred relic. His bloodshot eyes screamed that he wished I had died in Grace’s place. The tension was thick enough to cut with a knife when another officer suddenly entered the room. “Call from the rescue team in Africa.” Liam snatched the phone and put it on speaker. An excited voice crackled through. “Good news! We’ve made contact with the missing students! They’re alive!” “Miss Grace Rhodes is with them!” Catherine’s face lit up with overwhelming joy. “When can you bring her home?” she asked, her voice trembling. “When will she be safe?” The voice on the other end hesitated. “The situation is still extremely volatile. We need Ms. Skylar Rhodes’s assistance. Her experience and her local contacts are the only things that can guarantee Miss Rhodes’s safe return.” Every single person in the room heard those words. Catherine’s tear-swollen eyes locked onto me. “Skylar, I’m begging you. Name your price. Anything you want. If you bring Grace back, you can have my life!” My father roared, his patience gone. “Your mother is begging you, your sister is out there waiting! If you have any Rhodes blood in you at all, you will get on that plane to Africa right now!” Just then, an elderly woman stepped out from the crowd of parents. She shuffled forward and, without a word, dropped to her knees before me. “My granddaughter… she’s all I have left in this world,” she pleaded, tears streaming down her wrinkled face. “She’s trapped out there. I’m on my knees, begging you… please, bring my little girl back to me.” I glanced around at the sea of desperate faces. Liam stepped forward, his voice laced with contempt. “Skylar, can you still stand there and do nothing? Do you truly have no heart?” A cold smile touched my lips. “Fine,” I said. “I’ll help.” “But I have one condition.” 4. Hearing me agree, a wave of relief washed over Catherine’s face. But when I mentioned a condition, her expression hardened. “I want seventy percent of Rhodes Corp.” The room fell silent. Then, Catherine’s voice exploded in outrage, her finger jabbing at me. “Seventy percent? Why don’t you just ask your father to step down and make you CEO?” I gave a helpless shrug. “Your choice. I’m not forcing you. But if you refuse, you can just sit here and watch your precious daughter die.” “You… you monster!” Catherine trembled with rage. My father, looking defeated, finally made a decision. “Done,” he said through gritted teeth. “But the contract is only signed after Grace is back, safe and sound.” Catherine, fuming, had no choice but to agree. I drew up a detailed rescue plan, complete with topographical maps I sketched from memory. I designated Liam to lead the ground team. He looked at me, confused, but I just gave him an unreadable smile. My father had the share transfer agreement drafted. Everyone waited. Following my plan, Liam’s team quickly located a breach in the tribe’s perimeter. They moved in, and soon found Grace and the other students held captive. The video feed came online. Grace, however, didn’t look like a traumatized hostage. Her cheeks were rosy, her skin glowing. Liam, playing the hero, grinned triumphantly into the camera. “Mr. and Mrs. Rhodes, I have her! Grace’s safe!” he shouted. “It was all thanks to Skylar’s plan! Everything went off without a hitch, just like she said it would. We’ve got everyone!” At that moment, I took the share transfer agreement from the lawyer’s hands. I stared at the legal jargon and the astronomical numbers, feeling nothing. I signed the first letter of my name—S. And then, just as I knew she would, Catherine lunged forward and ripped the document to shreds. “Did you really think I’d let you win, Skylar?” she sneered, her face twisted in triumph. “Who do you think you are, trying to steal my daughter’s inheritance? You’re dreaming!” I watched her, my expression calm, my heart a frozen stone. She snorted. “You’re nothing but a motherless stray we took in. Letting you rescue Grace was a chance for you to prove your worth, not a negotiation.” She tore the last piece of the contract, her demeanor that of a common street thug. The other parents, seeing their own children were safe, dropped their desperate pretenses. The masks of civility fell away. “You’re a wilderness expert. It’s your duty to save our children when they’re in danger. You should have been the first one on that plane.” “That worthless trash. Making us beg and plead before she’d lift a finger. She really thinks she’s someone important.” I watched their ugly, ungrateful faces, a perfect mirror of what had happened in my last life. A wave of nausea rolled through me. Some of them looked like they wanted to hit me, to vent their frustrations on my body. They backed me into a corner, and I couldn’t stop the cold, bitter laugh building in my chest. Fine. If this is how you want to play it… then I don’t have to hold back anymore. The next second, the image on the large screen behind them flickered to life. What appeared there made their blood run cold and their faces turn ashen with terror. In moments, they would be the ones on their knees, begging for mercy.

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After the filming for the “Family Swap” reality show ended, I died in the third month of living with my biological parents again. In the final moments, as my consciousness faded, I didn’t hear the heart-wrenching sobs I’d imagined, nor did I see my family wracked with guilt. Instead, I watched my mother pull the person who killed me into her arms, whispering words of comfort. I watched my father’s brow furrow in disgust as he cursed me under his breath. Only my sister, Ella, knelt by my body and let out a soft sigh. “It’s better that you’re dead. Now, Mom and Dad won’t have to be in such a difficult position anymore.” So, this was it. No one would grieve for me. A bitter laugh escaped my lips as my last attachments dissolved with my shattered soul. A blinding white light flashed, and when I opened my eyes again, I was back on the first day my parents came to take me home. 1 Almost instinctively, I took a step back, avoiding my mother’s embrace. Her hands froze awkwardly in mid-air, her face falling. “Rina, you…” I knew what she wanted to ask. Did you miss me this past year? Are you okay? But my mind was still reeling from the shock of being reborn, my body reacting purely on the conditioned fear from my past life. Once the reality of it all settled in, I took several more deliberate steps back, putting a clear distance between us. My parents stood there, stunned. Seeing my desperate avoidance, their expressions soured. “Rina, you’ve only been gone a year. How can you be such a stranger to your own parents?” “Is it because we want to adopt Ciara? Are you unhappy about that?” I shook my head, my voice flat. “No.” In my last life, I had thrown myself into their arms, overwhelmed with longing. When I heard they wanted to adopt Ciara, I threw a jealous tantrum. Ciara saw it all and, in a fit of manufactured despair, threatened to run away into a blizzard. My parents, hearts aching for her, spent the entire day consoling her, leaving me, their newly returned daughter, completely alone. To appease her further, they threw a lavish adoption ceremony the very next day, officially announcing to the media that Ciara was their new daughter. That was the day my suffering truly began. This life, I refused to make the same mistakes. I wanted nothing to do with a love built on lies and manipulation. Seeing that I wasn’t upset, my parents visibly relaxed. They were afraid—afraid I’d compete with Ciara for their affection, and even more afraid that Ciara would be hurt. I let out a silent, self-mocking laugh and walked towards the guest room. As I turned, I came face-to-face with Ciara. She looked at me with wide, pleading eyes, tears already welling up. “Rina, I’m only staying because I can’t bear to leave Mom, Dad, and Ella. Please don’t be angry with them. If you’re unhappy, I can leave right now.” Ciara was a year younger than me. The first time I met her, in my past life, my first instinct was that I, as the older sister, should be generous. When we swapped places for the show, I had thoughtfully left her all my favorite toys and clothes and even told my parents to take good care of her. When the year-long show ended, we were supposed to return to our own lives, our own homes. I could never understand it. I was back, so why were they so reluctant to let Ciara leave? This time, faced with her performance, I just smiled faintly. “I’m not angry. Whether Mom and Dad adopt you or ask you to leave, I don’t have an opinion. As long as they’re happy.” My words were so mature, so flawless, that even my parents were taken aback. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught the flicker of surprise in Ciara’s. My reaction clearly wasn’t what she’d hoped for. Last time, my hysterics had successfully turned my parents and sister against me, making them pity her even more. Step by step, I had walked right into the traps she set, deeper and deeper into the abyss. Ciara bit her lip, about to say something else, but the sound of the front door opening cut her off. “You don’t have the right to be angry anyway.” My own sister, Ella, was home. She wrapped an arm around a “distraught” Ciara, her gaze landing on me with open contempt. “Ciara took your place this past year, caring for Mom and Dad, being a daughter to them. She’s already part of this family. You’d better not start trouble the second you walk in the door.” Ella had never liked me much. When other little sisters were happily holding their big sister’s hand, I could only watch mine from the crack in her bedroom door. That’s why I had volunteered for her first big project—the reality show she created. I had hoped it would finally win me a little of her affection. And it had. Ella was thrilled—because she seemed to adore the new “sister” she got in the exchange. … That first night back, I slept alone in the cold, cluttered guest room. The only difference was that this time, I had chosen it myself. My parents didn’t object. They exchanged a look and then eagerly helped me with my luggage, carefully avoiding any mention of me moving back into my old room, as if terrified I might ask. “Ciara’s gotten used to that room,” my mother explained with a strained smile, not a hint of guilt in her voice. “It wouldn’t be right to ask her to move out now. You’ll just have to make do with the guest room for a while.” As if it were perfectly normal for the adopted daughter of one year to have the master bedroom, while the biological daughter was relegated to storage. Last time, when I demanded my room back, Ella had slapped me across the face. “You just got here and you’re already trying to take things from Ciara! Her life has been so hard. Can’t you show her a little kindness?” “As long as I’m here,” she’d snarled, “you will not bully Ciara.” The slap had filled my mouth with the taste of blood, shattering the last of my fragile hope. Even in this new life, the memory made my chest ache. That night, I huddled in the cramped guest room, clutching my luggage, and shivered through the long, cold night. My room, which had become Ciara’s a year ago, was no longer mine. This time, I knew my place. I didn’t fight. I didn’t ask for anything. Just as they wanted. … Just like last time, three days after I came home, the guaranteed admission slot my parents had pulled strings to get became available. There was only one spot. It became their biggest dilemma: give it to me, or to Ciara? Last time, they came to me and said that Ciara had suffered so much in her life and her health was too fragile to handle the stress of the final exams. They wanted to give the spot to her. I cried and refused. They pretended to agree, but then secretly filled out the paperwork with Ciara’s name on it anyway. I didn’t understand then that some things, whether I was willing to give them up or not, were no longer mine to begin with. This time, when they came in, I was sitting at the desk, reading. They exchanged an awkward glance, neither wanting to be the first to speak. I knew why they were here. I saved them the trouble. “Is something wrong?” “Rina,” my mother began, hesitating, a flicker of guilt in her eyes. “We managed to get a guaranteed admission slot to a top university. It was supposed to be for you.” She paused, nudging my father with her elbow. He cleared his throat and picked up where she left off. “But, as you know, Ciara’s health isn’t the best, and the pressure of the exams is immense. So… we were hoping you would let Ciara have it. Would that be okay?” It was phrased as a question, but the decision had already been made. I played my part. I looked my mother in the eye and nodded. “Okay. Give it to her.” They were both stunned. The long speeches they had prepared died on their lips. They never expected me to agree so easily. My mother let out a long, relieved sigh. “That’s my girl. So understanding.” … At dinner that night, there were extra dishes on the table, a clear sign of their good mood. But not a single one was a dish I liked. My mother smiled, piling food onto Ciara’s plate. “Ciara, your sister Rina is giving you the admission slot. Now you can just relax and wait for university to start.” Ella looked up, a flash of disbelief in her eyes. She, too, seemed shocked by my compliance. “Oh, no, I couldn’t!” Ciara said, shaking her head as tears immediately welled in her eyes. “It’s an honor enough that Rina let me stay. How could I take her spot?” It was her favorite trick. I was used to it. I just kept my head down and ate. Across the table, Ella snorted. “Mom and Dad got this opportunity. It doesn’t have Rina’s name on it. They can give it to whoever they want. She doesn’t have a say in it anyway.” Her tone was as cold and dismissive as ever. My mother shot Ella a warning look, then gave me an awkward smile. “Rina, your sister is just joking. Don’t take it to heart.” I shook my head. “I know.” Perhaps finally feeling a pang of guilt, my father put down his chopsticks. “This was unfair to you,” he said, his voice tentative. “If there’s anything you want, just ask. We’ll do our best to make it up to you.” I thought for a moment, then pointed a finger towards the corner guest room. “That room’s window is too small. It’s too dark for studying…” Before I could finish, a pair of chopsticks came flying at my face, followed by Ella’s furious roar. “Rina, I knew you were up to no good! That room is Ciara’s now! You think you can push your luck and steal it from her? Not a chance!” She slammed her hands on the table and stood up, glaring as if she wanted to tear me apart. My parents, after a brief moment of shock, frowned, their minds already made up. I calmly pulled a piece of paper from my pocket. A dormitory application form. “You misunderstood.” “I just want to move into the school dorms. I need a parent’s signature.” Silence. The rest of the dinner was tense. My parents were shocked by my request, but neither of them said a word against it. Forcing Ciara out of my old room was unthinkable; me moving out was the perfect solution. In my last life, I would have been screaming, crying, demanding to know why they were so biased. But this time, I was quiet. I didn’t even make them feel awkward. I was the one offering the solution. They were happy. And so was I. My mother sighed, making a half-hearted attempt to persuade me. “Rina, it’s tough for a girl to live in a dorm. It’s not like we don’t have other rooms…” “If you don’t like your current room, I can redecorate another one for you, make it bright and spacious.” I knew better. Last time, the fight over a bedroom had been a long, ugly war that I lost spectacularly. She had our parents and our sister. I had no one. This life, I had no desire to compete with Ciara for scraps of affection. My only goal was to build myself up, love myself, and escape this so-called “home” as soon as possible. “No, thank you. I want to live at school. Please let me.” Seeing my resolve, my mother tried again, but my father cut her off. “Let her be. If Rina wants to live in the dorm, let her. She’s grown up now. She can take care of herself. She doesn’t need us hovering over her.” A bitter laugh almost escaped me. I was barely seventeen, and he had already decided I didn’t need much care. Yet, in my last life, he drove Ciara to and from school every single day, doting on her without fail. How did they know I didn’t need to be taken care of? They just didn’t want to. My heart was already scarred and numb, but in that moment, a familiar ache returned.

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On the eve of our wedding, my fiancé, Carter Hayes, the newly minted CEO of his family’s empire, threw himself one last bachelor party. He came home staggering, soaked in the kind of expensive whiskey that clings to a man’s suit like a cheap promise. I was the one who peeled him out of the car, and his arms wrapped around me in the marble foyer, pulling me into a desperate, searing kiss. His breath was hot, thick with a boozy desire as he murmured into my hair, “Ava… God, I love you, Ava.” Then he collapsed into a dead sleep. The next morning, Ava Reed, his executive assistant, posted a cryptic message on her Instagram story: The deepest loves are the ones we must keep silent. I’m so happy you’ve found your person. Wishing you a lifetime of happiness. The comments under the blog posts announcing our wedding turned into a cesspool overnight. I was a homewrecker, a shrew who’d stolen a good man from his true love. The vitriol was biblical. My best friend, Chloe, who also happens to head my company’s PR department, was practically vibrating with anxiety. “Catherine, if this narrative takes hold, our stock is going to tank before the opening bell.” I took a slow sip of my coffee, the porcelain warm against my lips. “What’s the panic?” I said, my voice dangerously calm. “Release the security footage from the garage entrance.” I set the cup down. “And make sure you get a clean shot of his face. But blur hers. And zoom in on the logo of his suit jacket. He’s the only man in this city still wearing that season’s Tom Ford.” 1 Ten minutes after the clip went live, the internet broke. X, Instagram, Bloomberg, every screen in the financial district lit up with the same story. #HayesCheats: New Video Shows CEO Carter Hayes in Passionate Embrace with Assistant on Wedding Eve The Price of Love: Did Catherine Price’s Golden Boy Have a Last-Minute Change of Heart? Who is Ava Reed? The Secretary at the Center of the Hayes Corporation Scandal The three headlines went viral, painting the digital landscape a violent shade of red. The phones in my office suite began to shriek. Investors, board members, reporters—a chorus of hyenas demanding blood. My own assistant, Jenna, clutched her headset, her face pale. “Catherine,” she stammered, “Hayes Corp’s PR team, Carter’s grandmother… the entire board. They’re… they’re losing their minds.” I gave her a look that silenced her. She swallowed. “They want you to release a statement immediately. They’ve drafted it. They want you to say the photo is misleading, that his assistant felt faint from low blood sugar and Mr. Hayes was just helping her.” A humorless laugh escaped my lips. “A statement? Why in God’s name would I clean up their mess?” My voice dropped, turning to steel. “I am Carter Hayes’s wife. The one he left standing alone at our rehearsal dinner. And now I’m supposed to provide cover for him and his little C-suite Lolita?” “Jenna,” I asked, my eyes locking on hers. “Do I look like the kind of fool who would do that?” She shook her head, mute. The office door slammed open with a sound like a gunshot. Carter stood there, a mess of a man. His hair was disheveled, his suit from the night before was wrinkled, and his eyes were shot with blood. He threw his phone onto my desk. It skidded across the mahogany, the screen showing a nine-panel grid of crystal-clear screenshots from the video. The dim light of the parking garage. Carter’s suit jacket draped over Ava Reed’s shoulders. Her dress, artfully slipping down. His mouth, crushed against hers. “Catherine! Have you lost your mind?” he roared. “Ava was heartbroken over a recent breakup! I was driving her home, she started crying, and I was comforting her. Nothing happened!” I raised my eyes from the phone, my gaze so cold it could have frozen fire. “Nothing happened? Then why did you come home looking like you’d been wrestling in an alley?” I stood up, my voice dangerously low. “Nothing happened? Then why did you hold me, kiss me like your life depended on it, and whisper her name?” He choked on his words, his face flushing a deep, ugly red. “I was drunk!” he bellowed, falling back on the oldest excuse in the book. “What man doesn’t appreciate a beautiful young woman? It was instinct, for Christ’s sake! You’re going to blow everything up over a moment of instinct? Wreck the company’s stock, destroy Ava’s reputation?” He took a step closer, his voice dripping with contempt. “You’re pathetic, Catherine. And you’re vicious.” I rose from my chair, the shattered screen of his phone cracking under my knuckles as I leaned on the desk. I walked around it, closing the distance between us until I could smell the stale liquor on his breath. “Vicious? Pathetic?” I laughed, a sharp, ugly sound. “Don’t be so quick to hand out labels, Carter. My little stunt is just God’s janitor taking out the trash. Compared to the toxic waste you and your little friend are spewing, I’m practically a recycling program.” I leaned in, my voice a whisper. “This isn’t an attack. This is self-defense.” “And let’s be clear about one more thing,” I said, my finger tapping his chest. “Don’t you dare hide behind ‘all men.’ The only man who wears his pathetic indiscretions like a badge of honor… is you.” His face contorted with rage, blood rushing to his head. He swung his hand back, ready to slap me across the face. I didn’t flinch. I leaned into it, a razor-thin smile on my lips. “Go ahead. Do it. Tomorrow’s headline will be even better: ‘Billionaire CEO Assaults Ailing Wife.’ Your little PR crisis will go nuclear. There won’t even be ashes left to bury.” His arm froze mid-air, then fell limply to his side, all the fight draining out of him. An hour later, his father arrived. William Hayes Sr., the founder of the empire, a man who had never bent to anyone, strode into my office flanked by two security guards. He stopped in the middle of the room, the click of his Italian leather shoes echoing off the floor-to-ceiling windows. “I’m here, so let’s not waste time with pleasantries,” he announced, his voice booming for everyone to hear. “Delete the posts. Call a press conference. Tell them the video was doctored, that it was all a misunderstanding. The Hayes family’s stock price will not be ruined by a marital spat.” I picked up my coffee cup, blowing gently on the surface. “Mr. Hayes, the only person ruining your company… is your son.” “He was the one who went sniffing around a bar on the eve of his wedding. The fact that I haven’t already filed for divorce is the only courtesy the Hayes family is getting from me.” He was silent for a beat, his eyes narrowing. “What do you want? Assets? Money? A five percent stake in the company? Name your price, Catherine.” I laughed softly and set my cup down. “I don’t want a thing.” “I want justice.” William Hayes scoffed. “Justice? In this city, Catherine, the Hayes family is justice. Don’t forget, your family’s company isn’t what it used to be. Without our backing, the wolves would have torn you apart by now.” He checked his Patek Philippe. “You have thirty minutes. If I don’t see a public apology in thirty minutes, I will pull every dime of Hayes support from every single one of your projects.” I stared out at the glittering Manhattan skyline, my finger tapping a light rhythm on the rim of my cup. “You know, your biggest mistake was thinking I was some delicate flower you could crush under your thumb.” My eyes met his. “I’m not a flower. I’m a knife.” After they left, Jenna returned, her arms full of printed-out emails, her hands shaking so badly the papers rattled. “Catherine, he meant it. The bankers for the Kensington merger just pulled out.” I put a steadying hand on her shoulder, my voice low and firm. “Don’t worry. The sky is getting darker, but it’s not falling. Not on us.” Thirty minutes passed. I posted nothing. But someone else did. Ava Reed started an Instagram Live. The title was four simple words. I can’t do this anymore. The video was shaky. She was standing on the very edge of the Hayes Tower rooftop, seventy-nine stories above the pavement. One foot was already over the side, the wind whipping her silk blouse around her like a shroud. Her eyes were red, her voice torn to shreds by the wind. “Carter… I’m so sorry… I can’t take it anymore…” The comment section exploded. OMG! SOMEONE CALL 911! SHE’S GOING TO JUMP! LOCATION IS HAYES TOWER! GET HELP! The next second, Ava let go of the railing. Her body tilted backward, falling into the abyss. The screen went black. The comments were just a blur of panic. DID SHE JUMP?! CATHERINE PRICE DROVE HER TO SUICIDE! Ten seconds later, the feed switched to a camera positioned outside the seventy-ninth-floor glass. It showed Ava landing safely in a discreetly placed stunt net. But the live feed had only captured the horrifying silhouette of her fall. The internet passed its final judgment. The hashtags trended worldwide. #BloodOnHerHandsCatherinePrice #JusticeForAva #MonsterCEO The narrative was set in stone: Catherine Price, the vindictive corporate monster, bullied a 26-year-old woman to her death. My phone rang. It was Carter, his voice trembling with a rage that was almost unhinged. “Catherine, you pushed her! She jumped because of you!” he screamed into the phone. “If one hair on her head is harmed, I will make you regret the day you were born! You enjoy this, don’t you? Hurting her? You’re a demon!” I let out a short, sharp laugh. “My God, Carter, do the two of you think the universe revolves around you? That the sun is your personal spotlight and the world turns according to your pathetic little script?” “She faints, and it’s my fault. She stages a fake suicide, and I’m the one who pushed her. So what does that make me? The villain you can pin everything on? I’m supposed to wear this crown of thorns you’ve welded to my head and thank you for the privilege?” “Go,” I said, my voice dripping with ice. “Go comfort her. I’m sure her fragile, delicate soul needs it.” I hung up. Moments later, the official press release from Hayes Corp hit the wires. [Effective immediately, Hayes Corporation has suspended all partnerships and joint ventures with Price Industries, citing a lack of confidence in the personal and ethical conduct of its CEO, Catherine Price.] It was a declaration of war. Within the hour, three of my largest institutional investors issued notices of asset freezes. Jenna stood in my doorway, holding a stack of white papers, her voice a hollow whisper. “It’s over. They’re launching a full-scale assault. They’re going to destroy us.” Overnight, I went from the city’s most celebrated new executive to a pariah. A final text from Carter came through. [I’m evicting you from the building. The locks will be changed in the morning. The divorce papers have been sent to your lawyer. Don’t make me call the police.] I looked at the message and actually laughed out loud. Evict me? This building, the crown jewel of the Hayes real estate portfolio, had been a wedding gift to me from my parents. The deed was ironclad. I texted back one word: [Try.] He must have lost his mind, because an hour later he was at my front door, two of his sycophantic VPs in tow, kicking the door like a common thug. “Catherine, get out! This is a Hayes property, and you are no longer welcome here! Get the hell out!” he bellowed, pointing a finger at my face. I was lounging on the sofa, swirling a glass of cabernet, and didn’t even bother to uncross my legs. “Carter, darling,” I said, my voice languid. “Has playing CEO addled your brain? Did you forget how basic property law works? Maybe you should take a closer look at the deed. The name on it is Catherine Price.” I took a sip of wine. “Rented? Sweetheart, this is my property. It has nothing to do with your family.” Carter froze, his face a kaleidoscope of confusion and fury. Clearly, Daddy had never filled him in on that little detail. Behind him, his precious little victim, the newly minted mistress, started her performance. Her eyes filled with tears, her voice a pathetic whisper. “Carter… don’t… don’t cause trouble for my sake. Ms. Price has never liked me. It’s all my fault. I’ll go.” Ugh. She was really committed to the damsel-in-distress act. Carter’s heart practically broke on cue. He turned back to me, his eyes blazing. “You wait, Catherine. You just wait. I will make you pay for this, tenfold. I will make sure you can’t even buy a cup of coffee in this city again!” I stood up, placing my glass on the table with a sharp click. “Fine,” I said. “I’ll be waiting.” “And a word of advice. Next time you plan a home invasion, do your homework. You wouldn’t want to look this foolish again.”

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On Valentine’s Day, I accidentally opened my fiancée Seraphina’s package — inside was scandalous limited-edition lingerie. I canceled all meetings, rushed home, and waited excitedly. But she never returned. Then I saw a post from Leo, the college kid she sponsors. His caption read: “She says I’m like a book she can’t put down… one she just wants to fall into bed with.” The photo showed a woman in the same lingerie curled in his arms. Her face was blurred, but I knew her body. It was Seraphina. Furious, I called her. Leo answered, smug: “She’s not to be disturbed. Tonight she’s all mine.” “Tell her I’m her ex-fiancé,” I snarled. “She can collect her things tomorrow.” Then I called my assistant: “Wire the $100 million bailout for the Vances to Croft Enterprises instead. Tell Victoria Croft it’s a wedding gift.” 1 The phone on my desk had rung 108 times before I finally picked it up. Seraphina’s voice, frayed and frantic, exploded from the speaker. “Rico Thorne, where is the hundred million? The deadline is today! Without that capital, Vance Industries is finished!” she roared. “Wire the money now! If my family’s company takes even a small hit because of this, you can forget about marrying me, even if you offer a billion-dollar dowry!” I leaned back in my chair, scrawling my signature on the approval form for the hundred-million-dollar transfer to Croft Enterprises. Only then did I leisurely lift the phone to my ear. “Fine by me,” I said, my voice ice. “You!” Seraphina fell silent, stunned. I could almost hear her forcing the fury down, her voice shifting into something softer, something that was meant to sound like an explanation. “Rico, stop fooling around,” she cooed. “I was at Leo’s university yesterday, scouting for talent. I just let him hold my phone for a bit. He’s just a kid, he likes to play games. You’re not taking him seriously, are you?” I glanced down at the investigation file my assistant had just delivered. The cold, hard facts printed in black and white finally killed the last lingering piece of my heart. I let out a bitter laugh. “A misunderstanding?” “You’re obsessed with your privacy. You never even let me touch your phone, yet he can just answer your calls whenever he pleases?” “He’s a fresh graduate, Seraphina, yet you secretly installed him as a department manager in my company. You even threatened my staff to keep it from me.” My voice started to rise, fueled by the memory of the night before. “I opened your package by mistake yesterday. I waited all night for you, my heart full of hope, only to find you wearing that for him, in his bed.” “Tell me,” I spat, my voice cracking with rage, “what part of you is still worth a hundred million dollars?” She gasped, a sharp intake of breath on the other end of the line. It took her a long moment to piece together a defense. “He—he answered my phone without asking. I already scolded him for it, I promise it won’t happen again,” she stammered. “And Leo graduated top of his class from a prestigious university! He’s a rare talent. I put him in your company to help you secure him, to give him a chance to grow.” “As for the lingerie… that was a genuine misunderstanding. His school was having a graduation party last night. That photo was just a joke. I already made him delete the post,” she insisted. “You’re a man of status, Rico. Why would you get worked up over a college kid?” I glanced at my CFO, who was trembling in front of my desk, and a cold sneer twisted my lips. “Do you think I’m an idiot, Seraphina?” “You said it yourself, he just graduated. Yet he’s pulling a six-figure salary meant for a senior executive.” “And you siphoned millions from my corporate accounts—without my knowledge—to set up a private company for him. A company that’s now actively bidding against mine for contracts!” The anger I’d been suppressing erupted. I slammed my fist on the desk, the sound echoing through the office. “You have three days to return every last cent. Otherwise, I’ll see you in court!” Panic finally broke through her façade, her voice pitching high and thin. “Don’t say that! We’re about to be married, to be family! What’s yours is mine, isn’t it? I was just investing in a promising venture.” “If you’re really this upset, I’ll… I’ll find a way. I’ll make him sell the company. Whatever it takes to make you happy…” I couldn’t listen to another second of her lies. I ended the call. She hadn’t even stepped foot into my family home, yet she was already treating my assets like her personal piggy bank. She had crossed a line, a fatal one. No apology, no excuse could ever fix this. Late that night, I drove aimlessly through the city streets before finally turning toward the waterfront mansion at Azure Bay. The fifty-million-dollar villa I’d bought specifically for us, our marital home. Now, it was just a monument to her betrayal. There was no reason to keep it. I planned to take a few photos and list it for sale. But when I pushed open the front door, a scene unfolded that sent fresh flames of rage licking up my spine. 2 Silk stockings were strewn across the marble floor. A pair of stiletto heels lay abandoned by the sofa. The air was thick with the cloying, sickly-sweet scent of cheap perfume and sweat. I didn’t need to guess what had happened here. My fury simmered just beneath the surface, threatening to boil over as I stalked toward the master bedroom, the door slightly ajar. Through the crack, I saw him. Leo. Dressed in my wedding tuxedo. And holding him was Seraphina, radiant and beautiful in the wedding gown I had commissioned for her. The rage exploded. I kicked the door open with a deafening crash. “What the hell are you doing?” They sprang apart, flustered. Seraphina’s lipstick was smeared, her eyes wide with guilt as she avoided my gaze. But she was the first to recover, stepping forward to break the suffocating silence. “Rico! What are you doing here?” “Don’t misunderstand,” she said quickly. “Leo felt terrible about using your money for his company. He knows you’re busy, so he just offered to help me try on the wedding outfits to make sure they fit.” I said nothing. I just stared, my eyes burning holes into her. Seeing the storm brewing in my expression, she scrambled, turning to Leo and frantically tugging at the tuxedo jacket. “Take it off! Hurry, don’t get it dirty.” “Don’t bother,” I bit out. I called building security and had them take the tuxedo he’d worn. “Take this outside and burn it,” I ordered. I threw open the windows, letting a cool night breeze rush in to purge the tainted air. But it did nothing to cool the fire in my veins. My eyes, bloodshot and wild, fixed on her. “You brought him here?” I roared. “You brought him to our home, to our bed?” My shout made her flinch, and her face hardened. “What is that supposed to mean, Rico? I brought him here once. Just once! Stop being so paranoid, so suspicious. You’re making this sound so ugly.” “Besides,” she continued, her voice gaining a defiant edge, “you demanded he return the money, and we’re doing it. It just takes time to process. What more do you want from us?” Her entitled attitude was staggering. It was then that my eyes fell upon the nightstand. Our engagement photo, the one we’d placed there together, was gone. In its place was a picture of her and Leo, smiling in their wedding attire. My portrait had been cut out of the original frame, crudely colored in black and white, and tossed into a corner like a discarded death notice. “Seraphina,” I whispered, my voice dangerously low. “You’ve outdone yourself.” The veins in my temples throbbed. I snatched the heavy crystal ashtray from the nightstand and hurled it at their picture. The frame shattered, glass raining down onto the floor in a glittering cascade. Seraphina froze, shocked into silence. “Sera, look out!” Leo lunged forward, pulling her into his arms to shield her from the imaginary danger. Once he was sure she was “safe,” he turned to me, his face a mask of wounded innocence. “Mr. Thorne, I was really just helping try on the clothes. Please, don’t take it out on Sera. If you’re angry, direct it at me.” He then added, a smug little smirk playing on his lips, “As for the photos, it’s just a prank. A modern wedding tradition. You’re from a different generation, so it’s not surprising you don’t get it. There’s really no need to overreact.” My vision went red. In a flash, I lunged forward and drove my foot into his chest. He stumbled backward, crashing into the pile of broken glass. Shards sliced across his precious, pretty face, leaving angry red lines in their wake. “You son of a bitch,” I seethed. “Say one more word to me like that. I dare you.” He cowered, my fury finally breaking through his arrogance. He clutched his bleeding face, his eyes wide with terror as he looked to Seraphina. “Sera…” he whimpered. That broken sound was all it took. Tears welled in her eyes. She rushed to his side, helping him up. The sight of the blood on his face made her tremble with rage. She spun on me, her voice a hysterical shriek. “Rico, have you lost your mind?” “What did he ever do to you? Why are you so obsessed with hurting him? Was it a crime to help you try on a tuxedo?” “If you’re so unhappy, if you have a problem with me, then hit me! Don’t take your anger out on an innocent boy!” “You couldn’t even deliver the hundred-million-dollar payment on time, and I didn’t say a word about it! And now you have the audacity to be angry?” She shoved her face toward mine, challenging me, confident I would never lay a hand on her. I was stunned by her ability to twist reality. I reached out, my fingers curling under her chin, forcing her to meet my gaze. A humorless smile touched my lips. “Don’t worry. I don’t hit women,” I said softly. “But don’t push me. Even a cornered dog will bite.” My words seemed to finally break through her righteous anger. A flicker of fear crossed her face. Before she could respond, I pulled out my phone and dialed my assistant. “Davis,” I said, my eyes locked on hers. “Terminate all partnerships between Thorne Industries and the Vance family. Effective immediately.” “No!” Seraphina’s composure shattered. She began to tremble uncontrollably, her face draining of all color. She knew, better than anyone, that her family’s small company only survived because it was propped up by the Thorne empire. Without the hundred million, and now without my support, Vance Industries wouldn’t last the night. Every supplier, every partner they had, was only there because of me. The moment news broke that we were finished, they would descend on her family like vultures. But her fate was no longer my concern. As she stared at me, her eyes wide with terror, I turned my back on her and walked away without a second glance. If I was right, I’d be reading about the bankruptcy of Vance Industries by morning. However, I had underestimated her. The next evening came and went with no news. I was on my way to a gala at the Grand Hyatt to sign a major deal when a video from Davis popped up on my phone. It was a live feed from the gala. Seraphina and Leo were already there, holding court. “Please, everyone, don’t misunderstand,” Seraphina was saying to a circle of reporters, her voice confident and clear. “Rico and I are perfectly fine. In fact, he adores me.” “The contracts he cancelled were minor, insignificant projects. He has promised that on our wedding day next month, he will personally present me with a one-hundred-million-dollar cash gift and sign over the contract for the Westgate development project.” She beamed, pulling Leo forward. “And this is Leo, the department manager he values most. Please, make him feel welcome.” Her words worked like a charm. The partners who had been on the verge of pulling out were pacified. Even the clients waiting on that hundred-million-dollar order stopped pressing her. They were now fawning over her and her boy toy. I felt the rage clawing its way back up my throat. I slammed on the accelerator, racing towards the hotel. If we were done, I would not let her drag my name through the mud with her lies. 3 The moment I stepped into the ballroom, every head turned. A hush fell over the crowd. Leo, looking as if he’d been expecting me, strode over with a smug grin, a glass of champagne in his hand. Before I could speak, he raised his voice for all to hear. “Mr. Thorne, you’re finally here! I was just about to close the deal for tonight’s big order. I’ll bring the contract for your review once it’s done. Why don’t you go relax in the lounge area for a bit?” His words were perfectly crafted. He was banking on the fact that I wouldn’t make a scene at such a high-profile event. He was trying to paint himself as indispensable, as my trusted right hand. He miscalculated. Badly. I plucked a glass of red wine from a passing waiter’s tray and calmly emptied it over his head. The deep crimson liquid stained his brand-new white suit, dripping onto the pristine floor. “Who the hell do you think you are?” I asked, my voice dangerously quiet. “You think you have the authority to sign deals on my behalf? You’re nothing but a parasite who climbed into my company on Seraphina’s coattails. Don’t get confused and start thinking you can give me orders.” My sharp words hung in the stunned silence. A moment later, the room erupted in whispers. The same people who had been flattering him just minutes before were now pointing and sneering. “He was using Mr. Thorne’s name to network all night. I thought he was someone important, but he’s just Miss Vance’s boy toy.” “This is rich. First, she claims Mr. Thorne is madly in love with her, and now Thorne himself shows up to put her pet in his place. This is better than a movie.” The murmurs grew louder, more vicious. Seraphina’s face flushed with humiliation. She grabbed my arm and dragged me to a secluded corner. She poked a finger into my chest. “Rico, don’t be an ungrateful bastard,” she hissed. “Leo knew you were still upset, so he came here to handle things for you. You can’t just humiliate him like this because he’s an easy target!” “If you keep this up, I’ll—” Suddenly, her phone shrilled, cutting her off. Her expression shifted as she answered it, a wave of panic washing over her face. “Fine. Have it your way,” she muttered, shooting me a nervous glance. She grabbed Leo by the arm and they scurried out of the ballroom. Watching them flee, a knot of unease tightened in my stomach. Something was wrong. Terribly wrong. A few minutes later, my phone rang. It was the groundskeeper from my family’s estate. “Mr. Thorne, something terrible has happened. You need to come to the cemetery. Now.” I raced to the family plot, my heart pounding. When I arrived, I was shocked to find Seraphina and Leo there, locked in a heated argument. The old groundskeeper ran to me, his face streaked with tears. “Sir, it’s your grandfather’s grave,” he choked out. “Miss Vance… she wanted this plot. She said it had good feng shui. She wanted to buy it to rebury Leo’s father. I told her no, but she… she bribed the funeral home. They dug up the master’s grave.” “I only found out tonight. By the time I got here, the master’s ashes…” He couldn’t finish, his voice breaking with a sob. He pointed a trembling finger. I followed his gaze, and my world tilted on its axis. My grandfather’s urn was shattered on the ground. His ashes—the last physical remnants of the man who raised me—were scattered in the mud, trampled and defiled. In that instant, something inside me snapped. All reason, all control, vanished. There was only a primal, killing rage. I lunged at Seraphina, my hands closing around her throat, squeezing. “Se-ra-phi-na,” I snarled, each syllable dripping with venom. “Those are my grandfather’s ashes.” She had never seen this side of me. Her face went deathly pale as she clawed at my hands, her eyes wide with terror. “No… it’s not like that… let me explain,” she wheezed. “I-I didn’t know it was your grandfather’s plot! You never told me he was buried here! The administrator only called me tonight…” The groundskeeper, seeing the life drain from her, rushed over and pulled at my arms. “Sir, calm down! She’s not worth going to prison for!” His words pierced through the red haze. I released her. Seraphina collapsed to the ground, gasping for air, the terror of near-death still etched on her face. She scrambled backward, away from me, until Leo helped her to her feet. Even then, her audacity was boundless. “Well, what’s done is done,” she said, her voice shaky but defiant. “Leo’s father is already buried here. It would be bad luck to disturb his spirit again. You should just let him have it.” “You’re rich, Rico. You can just find a better, more expensive plot for your grandfather. What’s the big…” SLAP! The sharp crack echoed through the silent cemetery. Seraphina stared at me, her hand flying to her cheek, her lips trembling in disbelief. “You… you hit me?” “You’re not even human,” I roared, my entire body shaking with a grief and fury so profound it threatened to tear me apart. “How could you say something like that?” It took every ounce of my willpower not to kill her right there. I turned away and knelt, my hands trembling as I tried to gather the soiled ashes from the dirt. “Mr. Thorne, I’m so sorry about this. Let me help you,” Leo said, his voice dripping with false sincerity. He stepped forward, and before I could react, he ground his heel into the earth, deliberately mashing my grandfather’s remains deeper into the mud, making them inseparable from the filth. “You’re dead.” The last thread of my sanity snapped. My eyes were blood-red. I grabbed a nearby shovel and swung it with all my might, straight at his head. “Rico, stop!” Seraphina screamed. She threw herself in front of him, blocking the blow. The confrontation had finally pushed her over the edge, igniting a deep-seated hatred for me. All pretense of civility was gone. “It’s just a dead man’s grave!” she shrieked. “Is that an excuse to murder Leo?” “I have had it with you! I have been patient, I have been tolerant, but you’ve worn away every last bit of my goodwill! What is this, do you not want to get married anymore?” I couldn’t believe the monstrous words coming out of her mouth. A bitter, chilling laugh escaped my lips. “You’re right,” I said, cutting her off. “We’re finished. Do you really think I’d pay a hundred million dollars to bring a monster like you into my family?” I ordered my men to exhume Leo’s father’s coffin and had my grandfather’s remains, dirt and all, reinterred. Leo clutched his father’s urn, his eyes red, refusing to let a single tear fall. Seeing his pain, Seraphina’s heart ached for him. Her face contorted with fury. As she left, she shot me a look of pure loathing. “You’ll regret this, Rico Thorne. You’ll regret disrespecting the dead. There will come a day when you’ll be on your knees, begging me!” I paid her words no mind. After repairing my grandfather’s tomb, I went home, emotionally and physically exhausted. I spent days in a daze, planning to settle the score with them once I’d regained my strength. But then Davis hammered on my door, his face pale with panic. “Mr. Thorne, it’s bad! Miss Vance used your credentials to log into your office computer. She didn’t just drain all of Thorne Industries’ liquid assets—she sold our entire portfolio of trade secrets to our biggest competitor. She’s trying to secure a new corporate partner!” “Our old partners are suing for breach of contract. We’re facing catastrophic penalties… We could lose everything. The company could go bankrupt.” Davis’s words struck me like a lightning bolt, shattering what was left of my composure. I staggered back, my heart splintering into a million pieces. For Leo, she had done this. She knew what Thorne Industries meant to me, to three generations of my family, and she had destroyed it without a second thought. I should never have trusted her. I should never have given her my password. Just then, my phone rang. It was Seraphina. “Rico,” she said, her voice smug and victorious. “Your three-day deadline passed, and you didn’t sue Leo. I knew it. You talk tough, but deep down, you still care about me.” “Consider this a small lesson. Take some time to reflect on your behavior. If you do, I might be willing to give you another chance.” “At the wedding next month, the entire city’s media will be there. I expect you to arrive with one hundred million dollars in cash. And you will bring your grandfather’s ashes with you.” “You will then get on your knees, holding those ashes, and apologize to Leo. You will keep bowing your head to the ground until he is satisfied. Only then will I agree to get in the wedding car.” I smashed the phone against the wall. So be it. She had left me no other choice.

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The Vance family’s generosity was the only reason I was standing on the manicured lawns of Atherton University instead of waiting tables back home. My scholarship, their name on the letterhead. I felt a profound sense of obligation, a debt that couldn’t be repaid with a simple thank-you note. I had to find their son, Caleb Vance, and thank him in person. I found him holding court by the basketball courts, the afternoon sun glinting off his perfect teeth. He was surrounded by a crew of guys who all looked like they’d stepped out of a cologne ad. Unsure which one was him, I approached the group cautiously. “Excuse me,” I said, my voice smaller than I’d intended. “I’m looking for Caleb Vance.” A wave of smirks went through the circle. “Another one, Cal,” someone drawled. “You’re in demand.” A guy in a crisp white jersey, lazily spinning a basketball on his finger, finally turned his attention to me. “What’s your business with him?” “I’m… I’m a scholarship student. The Vance family is my sponsor,” I explained, the words feeling clumsy as their eyes scanned me from head to toe. I suddenly felt hyper-aware of my secondhand clothes, the worn fabric of my jeans. “Without them, I couldn’t be here. I just wanted to thank him.” The guy in white—Caleb, I presumed—didn’t answer. His gaze lingered on my faded jeans for a moment too long, a flicker of something dismissive in his eyes. “I’m not him,” he said flatly. He jerked his chin toward a figure sitting alone on the bleachers, away from the group. “That’s Caleb Vance.” I turned. The man he pointed to was tall and broad-shouldered, with an air of quiet intensity that seemed to repel the boisterous energy of the others. His dark hair fell over a pair of cool, distant eyes. A thin, white scar cut from his jawline down his neck, disappearing into the collar of his shirt. He looked… dangerous. Not at all what I had pictured. Still, this was my benefactor. I walked over and gave a small, respectful bow. “Thank you,” I said earnestly. “For everything your family has done for me. If there is ever anything I can do to repay your kindness, please, don’t hesitate to ask.” Behind me, the group of guys erupted into laughter. I flushed, confused. Had I said something wrong? “What’s your name?” the man—”Caleb”—asked. His voice was a low rumble. “Ava. Ava Monroe.” “And you want to repay this debt?” “Yes. Absolutely.” “Alright,” he said, pulling out his phone. “Give me your number.” The laughter from the court instantly died. Everyone fell silent. The real Caleb narrowed his eyes. “What are you doing, man?” “Just in case I need her,” the scarred man replied without looking up. “Whatever, dude.” Caleb shrugged and jogged onto the court. A moment later, a basketball came flying directly at my head. I was still typing my number into the phone and didn’t see it coming. There was no time to react. Suddenly, a strong arm yanked me backward, pulling me flush against a hard chest. The man who called himself Caleb raised his other arm, and the ball slammed into his forearm with a sickening thud. The real Caleb froze, his face paling. “Julian… man, you okay?” “I’m fine,” the man—Julian—said, his voice tight. He shook his arm out. “Watch your aim.” “My bad, my bad,” Caleb said, then he glared at me. “And you, didn’t you see it coming? Learn to duck.” “Excuse me?” I bristled, stepping out from behind Julian. “You’re blaming me for your terrible throw? How about you learn some accountability?” Caleb stared, clearly shocked that I’d talked back. Beside me, I heard Julian let out a low, muffled chuckle. But when I glanced up at him, his face was as cold and unreadable as before. The sound must have been my imagination. “Are you sure you don’t need to see the nurse?” I asked him, concerned. “I’m fine.” He rotated his arm to prove it. “Thank you,” I said, my gratitude deepening. “Your parents gave me an education, and now you’ve saved me from a concussion. I’m even more in your debt.” From the court, the real Caleb let out a derisive snort. What a jerk. After confirming Julian was really okay, I left. But I didn’t go far. I went to the campus store and bought a bottle of water, planning to bring it back as a small gesture. I took a shortcut and came up behind the bleachers, where I could hear them talking before they could see me. “Why’d you lie to her, Caleb?” someone asked. Caleb, the real Caleb, answered with a bored sigh as he bounced the ball. “It’s a hassle. If she knew who I was, she’d be latching on, trying to ‘repay’ me 24/7. It’s exhausting.” I froze, hidden behind the metal frame. “But Julian’s different,” Caleb continued, a cruel amusement in his tone. “He’s intense. He scares everyone. She’ll be so intimidated, she’ll be gone within three days.” The group laughed as if it were the funniest thing they’d ever heard. “I’ve seen her type a million times,” Caleb said, his voice dripping with condescension. “Poor, calculating. She says ‘thank you,’ but she means ‘how can I sleep my way into your bank account?’ Pathetic. Not my scene.” He paused, and his next words felt like a slap. “Ava Monroe, right? I remember the name. My dad transferred an extra grand to my account before the semester started, told me to add it to her meal card. I never did.” “Why not?” “Campus food is already dirt cheap. If you can’t even afford that, what are you doing at Atherton?” Caleb said with a shrug. “Besides, the money’s gone. I used it for that tasting menu at The Laurel last night.” “Hell yeah, thanks for that, man!” “All good,” Caleb said. He sank a three-pointer with effortless grace. “And she wears that mask all the time. Bet she’s hiding a face only a mother could love.” I unconsciously touched the surgical mask I was wearing. The truth was, I’d had an allergic reaction to the city’s pollen, and my face was covered in a rash. “Caleb’s the pickiest bastard I know,” one of his friends chimed in. “That’s why he’s still single. No one’s good enough for him.” Caleb just laughed, then turned to the silent man on the bleachers. “Sorry to dump that on you, Julian. Feel free to delete her number right now. Get her off your hands.” The man who had saved me, the one I thought was my benefactor, finally spoke. His voice was quiet but carried an undeniable weight. “I don’t find it a hassle.” Back in my dorm, a quick search on the university’s student portal confirmed everything. The arrogant jerk was Caleb Vance. His friend, the one with the scar, was Julian Croft. “Ava, how do you know Julian Croft?” my roommate, Chloe, asked, her eyes wide with alarm when I mentioned his name. “What’s wrong with him?” “He’s… intense,” she said, lowering her voice. “The Crofts are one of the most powerful families in the state. Rumor is they have ties to… well, everything. People say Julian put a guy in the hospital last year. He’s the one person on this campus you do not want to cross.” My blood ran cold. Maybe I should just delete his number and disappear. Just as the thought crossed my mind, my phone buzzed. A text from an unknown number. Julian Croft: We need to talk. Dinner tonight. I wanted to say no. I wanted to block him. But then I remembered the solid feel of his arm shielding me, the deafening impact of the basketball. He had protected me. The least I could do was hear him out. I had no idea what I was walking into. The first words out of his mouth when we sat down at a quiet off-campus diner were not what I expected. “First,” he said, his voice as cool and crisp as a mountain stream, “I need to apologize. I’m not Caleb Vance.” He met my gaze directly, and the intensity I saw there made it hard to breathe. “I thought it was better to clear this up in person. My name is Julian Croft. The guy in the white jersey today, that was Caleb.” I tucked my chin down. “I… I know.” “When did you find out?” he asked, one eyebrow raising slightly. It felt like an interrogation. How could one person command so much presence without even trying? “I asked Chloe when I got back to the dorm. She showed me a picture.” “Are you afraid of me?” Yes, who wouldn’t be? I thought, but I didn’t dare say it aloud. “You weren’t so timid when you were telling Caleb off today,” he observed, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. Was he here to punish me on Caleb’s behalf? I immediately panicked. “I’m so sorry! It won’t happen again!” “That’s… not what I meant,” Julian said, looking slightly frustrated. He reached for a pack of cigarettes in his jacket, glanced at me, and then shoved them back into his pocket. “Look, my advice is to forget about Caleb. The people who sponsored you were his parents. If you feel a sense of gratitude, direct it toward them.” “I understand,” I mumbled, focusing on pushing my food around my plate. The scar on his jaw seemed more pronounced in the diner’s low light. It was intimidating. After a long silence, he said my name. “Ava.” I jumped. “Yes!” “If you’re so scared of me, why did you agree to come tonight?” He had me there. I reached into my bag and pulled out a small box. “I almost forgot. This is for you. It’s a muscle relief balm. And… thank you, for today.” He took the box, looking surprised. “For me?” “Yes.” “That’s thoughtful.” I took a deep breath. “If there’s nothing else, I should probably get going…” “I’m not finished.” “Oh. Okay.” “I saved you today,” he said, his eyes locking onto mine. “Doesn’t that mean you owe me a debt, too?” “Y-yes, of course. What can I do?” Julian leaned forward slightly, his gaze unwavering. “Go out with me.” The walk back to my dorm was a blur. It felt like I was floating in a dream. Julian was a campus legend, and walking beside me, he drew stares from everyone we passed. I became an object of intense curiosity. When we reached my building, I turned to him, my posture stiff. “Well, I’m heading up.” I started to turn away, desperate to escape into the safety of the dorm. “That’s it?” Julian’s voice stopped me. “Not how a girlfriend is supposed to act.” My head whipped around, and I frantically scanned the area. Thankfully, no one was around to hear him. Yes. I had said yes. I’m still not entirely sure why. Maybe it was the startling sincerity in his eyes when he asked. Maybe it was because I genuinely wanted to thank him. Or maybe, just maybe, it was a way to prove to myself, and to the ghost of Caleb’s cruel words, that I had no intention of seducing anyone. Whatever the reason, the word had just… fallen out of my mouth. “How am I supposed to act?” I whispered, my cheeks burning. “I’ve never… done this before.” He took a step closer and tapped his cheek. “Kiss me goodnight.” I froze. “No? Alright,” he murmured, his voice dropping an octave. “My turn, then.” Before I could process what he meant, he closed the distance between us, tilted his head, and pressed his lips to mine. My brain short-circuited. My lips were sealed shut, my body rigid with shock. But he wasn’t demanding. He simply moved his mouth against mine, a soft, exploratory pressure, as if savoring a dessert. It was surprisingly gentle. After a few moments, my knees started to feel weak. When he finally pulled back, I heard him let out a soft, satisfied sigh. “Been wanting to do that,” he murmured. “…What?” “Nothing.” He reached up and gently wiped a trace of moisture from my bottom lip with his thumb. The simple, intimate gesture scrambled my thoughts completely. He leaned in close, his breath warm against my ear. “Next time, Ava,” he whispered, “open your mouth.” Julian, it turned out, moved at his own pace. Every day, a “good morning” text, a “good night” call. He’d let me know where he was going, as if I were already an integral part of his life. But he never pushed for more. I appreciated the rhythm, the space he gave me. He was probably just amusing himself, I thought. When he got bored, he’d dump me, and my debt would be paid. Simple. Except it wasn’t. He deposited ten thousand dollars onto my meal card. Ten thousand dollars. For cafeteria food. The number was so absurd it didn’t feel real. I was so confused. Who was repaying whom here? I never sought out Caleb again. I decided I would repay his parents directly, once I had a job and my own money. A month passed. The rhythm of university life became familiar. Just before the fall break, the Fashion Design department put out a call for models for a small student showcase. The rumor was that the catering was amazing, so Chloe and I went to the tryouts on a whim. It was simple enough. Put on the student-designed dresses, let them see how they looked. My rash had finally cleared up, and Chloe had worked some magic with a little makeup. I stepped out from behind the screen in a simple, elegant evening gown and saw him immediately. Caleb Vance. He was sitting on a table, tossing a basketball against the wall. “Wow, that dress looks incredible on you!” one of the senior students exclaimed. Her voice made Caleb turn his head. He stopped bouncing the ball. He just stared. The entire room seemed to hold its breath, waiting for his verdict. Caleb had secured the funding for the show, so his word was law. And his standards were notoriously high; he’d rejected every girl who had tried out that morning. He stared for so long the basketball rolled off his lap and across the floor, unnoticed. “Do you have a boyfriend?” he asked abruptly. “That’s none of your business.” “It is if I want to ask you out,” he said with a charming, confident smile. The words hung in the suddenly silent room. I just looked at him like he was an idiot. “You don’t even know my name.” “A name’s not important. The feeling is.” “And yet,” I said, my voice level, “my name is Ava Monroe.” His smile froze, cracking at the edges. “…What did you say your name was?” “Ava Monroe,” I repeated, tapping my temple. “About a month ago, you almost sent me to the ER with that basketball. Don’t you remember?” His face went from confusion to dawning horror. A forced, awkward laugh escaped him. “Oh. Right. It’s you.” “It’s me.” “The sun was in my eyes that day,” he stammered, scrambling for an excuse. “I was in a bad mood. I’m sorry.” I ignored him. He was in full damage-control mode now. “Seeing you in that dress… you look incredible. It would be an honor to have you model for us.” “I haven’t agreed to anything.” “Is it the time commitment? The show is on a weekend, it won’t conflict with your classes.” “It’s not about the time,” I said, turning back toward the dressing room. “It’s about the fact that I don’t want to.” I changed back into my own clothes and handed the gown back to the stunned senior. Caleb looked completely thrown. “Wait, there’s been a misunderstanding. I’m the real Caleb Vance.” He actually pulled out his student ID to show me, as if that would change anything. “The guy you met that day was my friend. He can be… intense. If he scared you, I apologize on his behalf. I’m the one you were looking for.” He really thought that flashing his name, his status, would make me melt. He was wrong. “I know who you are,” I said calmly. “Tell me, Caleb. How was the food at The Laurel?” His expression soured. “What are you talking about? If you want to go, I can take you.” “I’m not interested. I’m just curious. A ten-thousand-dollar dinner for you and your friends… must have been delicious, right?” “Did Julian tell you that?” “No,” I said, meeting his panicked gaze. “I heard it myself.” I told him then. That I had come back to the court. That I had heard every single word he’d said about me. I repeated them for him, one by one. “Poor.” He winced. “Calculating.” His jaw tightened. “A face only a mother could love.” The blood drained from his face. “I didn’t know you then,” he pleaded. “It was wrong of me to judge you like that. It won’t happen again.” “No,” I said. “It won’t.” I grabbed Chloe’s arm and walked out of the room, leaving him standing there in stunned silence. The next day, twenty thousand dollars appeared on my meal card—more than his parents’ original scholarship stipend. I had the university finance office reverse the transaction immediately. He somehow got my number and started flooding me with texts and showing up wherever I was on campus. I ignored him completely. But Caleb didn’t give up. That weekend, I was working my shift at The Alibi, a popular off-campus bar that a lot of students frequented. My manager approached me. “Hey Ava, a fruit platter for the VIP room. Can you take it in?” “That’s not my section,” I said. “I know, but they asked for you by name. Must be some of your friends.” I didn’t think much of it and pushed through the door to the private room. It was packed with about a dozen people, men and women. And right in the center, a smug-looking Caleb Vance. He was looking right at me, a lazy smile playing on his lips. If I didn’t know what a shallow person he was, I might have found him handsome. “Everyone,” he announced, “this is Ava Monroe.” Because of his very public, very one-sided pursuit, my name was now campus gossip. A chorus of knowing “ooohs” went through the room. I said nothing, my eyes scanning the smoky haze until they landed on a figure in the corner. Julian. I don’t know when it happened, but things with Julian had deepened. He wasn’t the terrifying figure from the rumors. Our conversations had evolved from stilted and awkward to easy and open. We could talk about anything. He knew I hated being the center of attention, so our dates were always somewhere quiet, away from prying eyes. We held hands. We kissed. He loved kissing me, long, slow kisses that left me breathless. But that was as far as it went. I was a slow burn, and he was a gentleman. The moment he sensed me pull back, he would stop. He never once made me feel less than because of where I came from. He treated me with a respect I’d never known. It was impossible not to develop feelings for a man like that. And there he was, sitting in the corner. A cigarette was burning between his fingers, but the second I walked in, he stubbed it out. “Ava,” Caleb called out. “I’ve already cleared it with your manager. You’re off the clock. Hang out with us, you’ll still get paid.” “I’d rather work,” I said flatly, setting the platter down and turning to leave. Just then, my phone rang. It was my manager. “Ava, just hang out with them for a bit. It’s part of the job tonight. Caleb’s dad is one of our biggest investors. Don’t piss him off.” Trapped, I slumped into an empty seat. It was a Caleb-curated crowd, all from the same silver-spoon background. They talked about Aston Martins and buying investment properties in London. It was a language I didn’t speak. At one point, someone turned to me. “What do you think of the new Aston Martin, Ava?” “I’m sorry,” I said, my cheeks flushing. “I don’t really follow celebrities.” The table went dead silent. “It’s a car,” a girl finally said, her voice dripping with disbelief. “You’ve never heard of Aston Martin?” The silence that followed was even more mortifying. Julian’s low voice cut through the tension. “It’s normal not to know if you’re not into cars.” The girl wasn’t done. “So what do you drive, Ava?” “She doesn’t,” someone else chimed in. “She’s the scholarship kid Caleb’s parents are sponsoring.” The atmosphere shifted instantly. The looks they gave me were a mixture of pity and suspicion. Now I understood why Caleb’s first assumption was that I was trying to seduce him. In their world, it was the only logical conclusion. I felt like an insect under a microscope. I reached for my glass of water, but a hand shot out and grabbed my arm. “Hey, Ava,” the guy said, his eyes wide. “That bracelet you’re wearing… isn’t it the same as Julian’s?” He pushed up my sleeve, revealing the simple, beaded bracelet Julian had given me weeks ago. “Whoa, it is! It’s identical!” “Let me see, Julian!” Someone grabbed Julian’s arm and held it up to the light. His bracelet was the same, just with slightly larger beads. The soft, dark wood gleamed under the track lighting. “They’re a matching set,” someone whispered. The air in the room became thick and heavy. Caleb wasn’t smiling anymore. His eyes were cold, fixed on our wrists. “A matching set?” he said slowly, his gaze shifting from me to Julian. “What’s the story, man?” Julian said nothing. His silence was an answer in itself. The pressure was suffocating. “I just bought it at a street market,” I blurted out. “It’s just a coincidence.” “Really?” “Yeah, they’re everywhere.” You could feel the collective sigh of relief in the room. Caleb’s smile returned, and he started pouring drinks, trying to force the mood back to what it was. But Julian’s face was unreadable. He looked down, his expression hidden in the shadows. Oh, God. He was angry. The noise in the VIP room was giving me a headache. I mumbled an excuse about the restroom and slipped out into the concrete stairwell for some air. I’d only been sitting on the steps for a minute when Julian followed me out. Before he could say a word, I surrendered. “I can explain! I didn’t deny it because I don’t like you, I denied it because of what I told you before. I hate being talked about. You’re a big deal on campus, Julian. If people knew we were together, it would be a thousand times worse than it already is.” It was the truth. Ever since Caleb had made a public spectacle of “chasing” me, my life had become a fishbowl. Professors would call my name in lecture halls and a wave of whispers would follow. People took pictures of me in the library. I hated it. Julian was silent for a long time. The stairwell was even darker than the lounge, and I couldn’t see his eyes, but I could feel a coldness radiating from him. “All those words,” he said finally, his voice flat. “But what it boils down to is, you don’t have feelings for me.” “No, that’s not it at all!” “It’s been a month, Ava. If you haven’t been moved by now, you never will be.” I didn’t know what to say. “A month,” he said quietly. “That was the deadline I gave myself. You’re free.” “Wait… are you breaking up with me?” “Yeah.” He turned to go. I don’t know what came over me, but I acted on pure instinct. I grabbed his arm, stood on my toes, and pressed my mouth to his.

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The moment I found my boyfriend’s private account, he had just posted a new thread: What are some good cities for a couple’s getaway? As a joke, I anonymously recommended a historic town upstate that I’d always wanted to visit but had never gotten the chance. Ten minutes later, he replied to my comment. “Thanks, but my little girl and I already went there for the midsummer festival this year.” “She didn’t like it.” 1 My finger froze over the screen. I clicked again on the profile picture—a jumble of random numbers and code—and scrolled through his feed. There weren’t many posts, but every single one was undeniable proof that this was my boyfriend, Bob. The custom watch I’d given him. The unique hydroponic plant on his office desk. My own hand, wearing our anniversary ring, from a photo taken on our fifth year together… I took a steadying breath and reread his reply. My little girl. I was two years older than Bob. He had never, not once, called me his little girl. And the midsummer festival… This year, during the festival, he and his team were on a business trip. He’d been so busy he hadn’t even called. I calmly messaged my assistant, asking her to pull the list of everyone from the tech department who went on that trip. Three minutes later, I had my answer. Chloe. The only female intern on the list. A “little girl” who had just graduated from college a year ago. Of course, it was her. My mind flashed back to last night, when I’d brought up taking a vacation next week to unwind. The massive project he was leading was finally wrapping up, and the coming week was supposed to be his first real break. But before I could even finish my sentence, he’d looked up from his computer screen and said flatly, “I have another business trip next week. No time.” “If you want to go, just go with your friends.” In six years together, it was the first time he had ever refused to take a vacation with me. Ever since we started working at the same company, we had always synced our annual leave. And until I found his private account, until I saw that post, I had clung to a sliver of hope that he was just planning a surprise for me. “Director Hayes, VP Barry submitted his vacation request three days ago,” a colleague from HR informed me. “Also on leave next week are the VP of Operations, someone from Legal, and… Chloe, the intern from the tech department. She’s taking a week of sick leave.” A bitter, silent laugh escaped my lips. Whenever Chloe’s name came up, people would pause, their voices trailing off. The day she started, rumors that she was the niece of a board member at corporate headquarters had spread like wildfire. Everyone treated her like a princess just there to pad her resume. Only Bob had put on a show of impartiality when he mentioned her to me. “She’s just an intern. They’re all the same in my eyes.” But over the past year, the “special treatment” he gave her had become painfully obvious. He’d worn the red string bracelet she gave him behind the custom watch I’d gifted him, claiming she’d gotten it blessed at a monastery and it was just for good luck. He’d placed the stuffed animal she gave him in the most prominent spot on his desk, insisting that everyone in the department got one and he didn’t want to be accused of singling her out. He forgot our six-year anniversary for the first time, yet he remembered that the next day marked Chloe’s 100th day at the company and had already booked a table at her favorite restaurant. And every time I questioned him about these things, he would dismiss it as me being paranoid. “Given who she is, it’s only natural for me to look out for her a little more.” “It’s just office politics, Claire. You’re a director, you should understand how this game is played.” It was because I understood all too well that I had let it slide, again and again. Until today, when I saw this post—this irrefutable proof. If before I had only sensed his heart slowly drifting away, now, I knew it was time to make a clean break. I sat in my office, numb, for the rest of the afternoon, then went home to wait for Bob to finish his overtime. “I saw your leave request at HR,” I said, lounging on the chaise. I heard his footsteps halt just inside the door. “You were investigating me? That’s my private information.” His voice was laced with anger. “Is it?” I said without looking up. “Does your ‘private information’ also include your little girl?” 2 In the six years we’d been together, I had rarely used such a tone with him. I remember when he first joined the company. I was already a team lead, having built a reputation for being efficient, decisive, and for keeping my professional and private lives strictly separate. Back then, he would hold me and laugh, saying that everyone else only saw my tough exterior, but only he knew my softer, more passionate side. From college until now, I had given him so much of that softness. So much that, eventually, he started to take it for granted. Since he no longer valued it, I no longer needed to offer it. “What’s the matter? You have the guts to do it, but not to admit it?” I stood up, facing the man I had loved for six years. The air grew thick with tension. Bob turned his face away, refusing to meet my eyes. “Next month, there’s a chance I could be transferred to the corporate headquarters overseas.” After a long silence, he finally spoke. I raised an eyebrow, setting my water glass down. “And what does that have to do with you cheating?” Bob’s brow furrowed in annoyance, clearly displeased with my choice of words. “What does it have to do with it? Claire, this is a special promotion, a once-in-three-years opportunity. Do you have any idea how much effort I’ve put in just to get on Chloe’s good side?” He sighed, his voice taking on a martyred tone. “Can’t you be more understanding for once? Can’t you see how tired I am?” What a magnificent, self-serving excuse. He wanted to use Chloe and her board-member uncle as his personal rocket to the top, but he also didn’t want the stain of being a cheater. So he was still trying to argue his way out of it. “In that case, you should go straight to your ‘little girl’ and ride your coattails to success,” I said with a faint smile. “Bob, I wish you all the best.” “Claire, you—!” His face flushed with humiliation, but as his eyes met my unflappable expression, he faltered. There wasn’t a single trace of sadness on my face. Just the calm, detached air of someone tossing out a bag of trash. I knew exactly what he was thinking. My indifference was bruising his ego. “Do you really not know why I’ve been trying so hard to get close to her?” he finally spat out, trying to regain control. “I can put up with it for the sake of our future, but you’re getting hung up on every little thing.” “Claire, you’re just too controlling,” he said, his eyes scanning me critically. “It was just a private account, a few lines I wrote to play the part. Is that really worth interrogating me like this?” He was desperately trying to save face, to provoke a reaction from me. Every word was designed to paint me as the suspicious, unsupportive partner, while he was the one making noble sacrifices. Too bad for him, that act didn’t work on me. The word “understanding” was not in my vocabulary. “Controlling,” however, suited me just fine. “You’re right, I am controlling,” I said. “Controlling enough that I can no longer tolerate my cheating ex-boyfriend standing in the house I paid for in full.” “Bob, get out. The moving company I called will be here soon. You’re welcome.” And so, against the backdrop of the wind howling outside and Bob’s furious curses, my apartment was finally quiet again by three in the morning. To avoid office gossip, Bob had never made our relationship public. I’d understood his reservations at the time, but looking back, it was clear he had never considered me his only option. Sure enough, three days after I unilaterally ended things, Bob and Chloe started appearing together everywhere, making no effort to hide their new relationship. It was like a declaration of war. Then, right on schedule, a box of candy appeared on my desk—the brand Bob always ordered for me. I have severe hypoglycemia and tend to get dizzy when I overwork myself. It used to worry him sick, so every month, he would have a box of my favorite candy delivered directly to my office. I looked at this ghost of our dead relationship, sighed, and was about to put it away when Chloe pushed my door open and walked in. “Director Hayes, sorry, but it looks like a delivery was sent to the wrong person.” She sauntered in, her eyes glinting with triumph. “Those are the announcement gifts Bob is giving out to our colleagues. Can I have them back?” 3 In all my years, I’d never heard of an “announcement gift.” The way she was acting, you’d think they were getting married tomorrow and were rushing to hand out wedding favors. It was so brazen it was almost comical. “I see. Well, go ahead and take them,” I said with a flick of my chin toward the box, then turned back to my computer. She froze, clearly taken aback that her provocation had completely failed to land. “I know you’re Bob’s ‘ex-girlfriend,’” she said, putting heavy emphasis on the last word. “But he’s mine now. So, Director Hayes, please learn to keep your distance. Don’t try to take what isn’t yours.” So young, I thought to myself, a wry smile playing on my lips. “Miss Shen, are you aware that when he asked you out, he was still in a relationship with me?” Chloe’s face went pale. So, she knew. Of course, she knew. “And you think,” I continued, my voice level, “that I would actually fight you for a man who cheats on his girlfriend and then has the audacity to beg for a gift back to use as an ‘announcement present’ with his new flame?” I shook my head slowly. “A man like that is beneath me.” Her expression turned ugly. She opened her mouth to say something else, but I cut her off. “And frankly, Miss Shen, so are you. Barging into a director’s office without knocking shows a profound lack of professionalism and basic manners.” “How did someone like you even get hired here? Tina,” I called to my assistant, “please show her out.” I think Chloe was crying as she ran out of my office. I didn’t particularly care. I had more important things to deal with. Later, Sarah, the general manager of the tech department and a personal friend, came to see me. She brought up the overseas promotion, her voice hesitant. The tech department had two Vice Presidents: Bob and a woman named Diane, who was equally qualified and also eager for the transfer to headquarters. “I thought it would be a fair competition between them,” Sarah said, “but now with Bob being so public with Chloe, he must have everything locked down. It’s disgusting watching him get his way like this.” She pursed her lips in distaste. “Claire, I know tech talent is a priority, but you’ve been here for seven years. Based on seniority alone…” Sarah knew about Bob and me, and she knew the advantage Chloe gave him. Her words were a mix of concern and indignation on my behalf. “It’s fine. I trust that headquarters will make a fair decision,” I said calmly, flipping through a file. “Besides, I’m not in the running for that position, so there’s no conflict.” We chatted for a few more minutes before I dove back into my work. A little later, I happened to see Bob’s new post on my social feed. A picture of the entire tech department, each person holding a gift, celebrating his new relationship. Most of the comments were congratulatory, people being polite after receiving a gift, but I could only imagine what they were really thinking. A flood of messages came in from friends who knew the real story, all asking what had happened. I gave them a brief rundown, and just before leaving for the day, I called my assistant in to book a flight for me. The words had barely left my mouth when, just like Chloe, Bob threw my door open without knocking. “Why are you booking a flight there? Are you trying to go to headquarters too?” He stood there, aggressive and greedy, a bitter glint in his eyes. He looked nothing like the earnest, handsome young man who had pursued me all those years ago. “You’re not actually thinking of competing for the promotion, are you?” His gaze turned pitying. “Claire, headquarters just promoted your predecessor last year. There’s no way they’d choose you again this year.” He stepped closer, lowering his voice. “You embarrassed Chloe today, and now she’s throwing a fit, saying she needs to ‘reconsider’ who gets her uncle’s support. Just play along with this, Claire. As soon as I get the transfer, I’ll dump her. Don’t you want to work at headquarters? Once I’m in, I can pull some strings and get you in, too. It’ll be easy.” He paused, a look of magnanimous compromise on his face. “Just bear with it a little longer. For me.” 4 He looked so self-satisfied, as if he were bestowing upon me some great act of charity. I felt like I was watching a monkey perform at a circus. It was utterly baffling. Bring me in? The moment his plane touched down overseas, I’d be getting a breakup text. I had no doubt about that. “Next time, install a new keycard lock on my door. I’m tired of uninvited people barging in,” I instructed my assistant before finally turning my gaze to Bob. “Bear with it?” I repeated. “VP Barry, are you suggesting I should stay here and ‘bear with it’ so I have a front-row seat to your cheating scandal? Or perhaps so I can broadcast it to the entire company?” “I told you, I’m not cheating!” I noticed that whenever I used the word “cheat,” he would have an outsized reaction. If he had just been honest and admitted he was dumping me to climb the corporate ladder, I might have respected his candor. But this—this was just pathetic. “Not cheating? You and Chloe have booked hotel rooms dozens of times in the past six months, and just last week you were looking at villas to live in together overseas.” I smiled, a cold, sharp thing. “Bob, did you really think you could fool me?” The color drained from his face. He had no idea I’d dug that deep. “Fine, Claire. If this is how you want to end our relationship, then there’s nothing more to say.” His tone suddenly shifted, becoming threatening. “I admit, I approached Chloe with a goal in mind. But after getting to know her, I’ve realized she’s so much better than you.” He puffed out his chest, a final, swaggering display of power. “You’re just pushing me to make our act a reality. And you… the next time you come to headquarters, you’ll be the one knocking on my door.” “You’re going to regret this.” I watched him walk away and simply laughed. After the holidays, headquarters sent formal invitations to both Vice Presidents, Bob and Diane, to attend a farewell banquet for the outgoing Director of Technology. Everyone knew it was more than just a farewell party; by the end of the night, the successor would be unofficially crowned. When I entered the venue, Bob was on Chloe’s arm, gliding through the room, schmoozing with executives, a confident smile on his face. The other candidate, Diane, stood off to the side, looking isolated and alone. “Claire? What are you doing here?” Bob finally spotted me, his hand tightening around his wine glass. I ignored his question, exchanging pleasantries with a few senior managers. Just days before, right before his flight, he’d sent me a text message. It was a long, patronizing farewell, saying he was off to a new life overseas and that I should learn to let go. He really thought I’d booked my flight just for show. Chloe’s expression soured when she saw me, but she whispered something to Bob, and soon the confident smirk returned to his face. The banquet began. My position as a director was higher than his, so my seat was naturally closer to the head of the table. After a few rounds of drinks, the outgoing director finally raised the topic on everyone’s mind. “So, have we decided on the new transfer from the branch office? Will they be my replacement, or are we promoting internally and bringing someone up from another department?” Bob froze, a forkful of food halfway to his mouth. A strange, unsettling feeling began to creep over him. Could it be? Is Claire actually here to compete with me? He sat up straighter, his posture rigid with tension. Just then, the General Manager, seated next to me, spoke up. “Of course, we’re prioritizing talent from the tech department. We have two excellent candidates this year.” The GM smiled warmly in my direction. “Besides, our chairman’s own daughter has been overseeing the domestic branch. She’s been there long enough to have a sharp eye for talent, and she’s the one who recommended this year’s candidates.” He then turned directly to me. “So, Claire. Have you chosen a worthy successor for your father?” There was a sudden, sharp CRASH from Bob’s direction as his wine glass slipped from his hand. He had it all wrong. I wasn’t there to compete with him. I was there to decide his fate. Smiling, I nodded at the GM. “I have. And my father has already reviewed my choice. He approves.”

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