Category: English

On the day we honored my father’s memory, my wife’s childhood sweetheart “accidentally” pushed my mother off a cliff. Her scream echoed before vanishing—no body was found. Grief-stricken, I reached for my phone, but Seraphina stopped me, gripping our son Leo by the throat. “Take the blame,” she hissed. “A few years in prison won’t kill you. But Adrian? He’s a lawyer—he can’t have a record.” She dangled Leo over the cliff, his small body bruised. “Choose: confess or I drop him.” I confessed. In prison, chains pierced my collarbones. Brine-soaked lashes split my skin nightly. Inmates used me. But thoughts of Leo kept me alive. When released, I found them—Seraphina and Adrian entwined on the couch, their newborn nearby. “You expected loyalty?” she sneered. “From a prison whore?” Leo recoiled from my touch. “I hate you! Only Uncle Adrian is my dad!” Their perfect family, built on my ruin, shattered me. Five years of hell—for this. Black hatred swallowed me whole. 1 My eyes burned, but not a single tear would fall. I suppose when you reach the absolute depths of despair, even crying becomes a luxury you can’t afford. But I couldn’t give up. I had to stay near my son. So I swallowed my pride, chewing on the jagged edges of my humiliation. “What do you want to do about… us?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper. Seraphina nonchalantly flicked a strand of hair from her face. “As long as you know your place, I don’t mind keeping a well-behaved dog around.” She paused, her gaze raking over my tattered clothes and scarred body. “Consider it compensation for the five years you lost. Don’t be ungrateful.” Her words were like needles, piercing straight through my heart. I lifted my head, my eyes finding my son. The moment our gazes met, he whipped his head away, as if the mere sight of me would contaminate him. A fine, sharp pain spread from my chest through my entire body. I couldn’t believe it. This was my sweet, obedient boy, now looking at me with nothing but resentment. To save him, I had been dragged to prison before I could even bury my own mother. How many times had I been beaten unconscious, only to be jolted back to life by the single, burning hope of seeing him again? And my sacrifice had only paved the way for someone else’s happiness. My lips twitched into a pained smile. I tried to sound dignified, but my voice trembled uncontrollably. “Seraphina… let’s get a divorce.” At that, she let out a short, sharp laugh. It was followed by the stinging crack of a slap across my face. I stood there, stunned, the imprint of her hand burning on my cheek. Her voice was laced with venom. “A worthless piece of trash like you wants to divorce me?” she spat. “You’re a freak nobody would even pay to fuck! You’d just come crawling back, begging me to take you in!” I stared at her, the woman I once loved, now a stranger spitting poison. My voice dropped to a plea. “Seraphina, I don’t want anything. Just… just give me back my son.” My words seemed to ignite something not in her, but in Leo. He scrambled backward, clinging to Adrian’s leg as if for dear life. “I hate you!” he shrieked. “I don’t want to go with you! I hate dirty things! I want to stay with Daddy Adrian forever!” The innocent words of a child, yet they sliced me to the bone. Adrian patted Leo’s back reassuringly, his other hand sliding possessively around Seraphina’s waist. He looked at me with the smug air of a victor. “Finn, my friend,” he said with a soft chuckle. “Forgive him. I’m afraid I’ve spoiled him a bit these last few years. Don’t take it to heart.” He adjusted his glasses. “While you were away, I took good care of Sera and Leo. You can rest easy.” I opened my mouth, but the words “thank you” felt like ash on my tongue. As if remembering something, Adrian pulled a check from his wallet and held it out to me. A check for five thousand dollars. “I hear it’s tough finding work after… you know. Think of this as a little something from me to you.” His fingers went limp, and the check fluttered to the floor like a dead leaf. His eyes gleamed with undisguised provocation. A vein throbbed in my temple. I exhaled slowly and bent down to pick it up. Before my fingers could touch the paper, a small shoe stomped down on my hand, grinding it into the floor. 2 “Don’t you dare touch my Daddy Adrian’s money!” “Get out of my house, you stinking beggar!” Leo’s face was red with fury as he stomped his foot again and again. I gritted my teeth against the searing pain in my hand, forcing a smile. “Leo, you’ve grown so much. Dad missed you.” Tears welled in my eyes, whether from longing or guilt, I couldn’t tell. “I know you’re angry I was gone for so long. That’s my fault.” This face, the one that had appeared in my dreams every single night, was finally right in front of me. I couldn’t stop myself. I reached out, wanting to pull him into a hug. He scrambled away in terror. “The murderer is trying to grab me!” he screamed. “Dad, save me!” His high-pitched cries were like daggers, leaving me shredded and bleeding. My hand hung in the air, useless, as I watched my son flee into the arms of another man. Seraphina’s face darkened. She lunged forward and kicked me squarely in the chest. “You think a monster like you deserves to be Leo’s father?” she snarled. “You’re a filthy animal! You should have rotted in that cell!” I stumbled backward and fell, the impact jarring my bones. A trickle of blood ran from the corner of my mouth, dripping onto the plush carpet. I felt nothing. I mechanically picked up the check. Looking at the insultingly small sum, I let out a laugh that was closer to a sob. Five years of my freedom, a lifetime of my innocence, and this is all it was worth to them. I pushed myself to my feet and, right in front of them, tore the check into tiny pieces. “I don’t need your pity.” Seraphina’s expression turned thunderous. She snatched a heavy glass ashtray from the coffee table and hurled it at my head. “You ungrateful bastard!” she screamed. “I’m going to teach you a lesson today!” The ashtray shattered against my temple. Warm blood instantly blurred my vision. Agony ripped through me, but I clamped my jaw shut, refusing to cry out. Leo clapped his hands, cheering. “Good job, Mommy! The bad man is bleeding!” Adrian watched the show for a long moment before stepping in, his concern as fake as his smile. “Sera, that’s enough,” he said softly, putting a hand on her arm. “Finn just got back. He doesn’t know the rules yet. Let him learn his lesson the hard way.” He glanced at Leo. “Besides, he is the boy’s biological father. This isn’t good for the child.” Seraphina, panting, gave me another two kicks for good measure before she relented. “If Adrian hadn’t spoken up for you, I wouldn’t have let you off so easily! Now get on your knees and thank him!” Adrian shook his head, pulling a silk handkerchief from his breast pocket and offering it to me. “Wipe the blood. You’re scaring the boy.” I swatted his hand away. He didn’t seem to mind. “Now that you’re back, we’re all one big family,” he said smoothly. “Let’s not have any bad blood between us.” He paused, pushing his gold-rimmed glasses up his nose, a flicker of malice in his eyes. “We don’t have a spare room at the moment. I’m afraid you’ll have to make do with the doghouse for now.” The rage that had been simmering inside me boiled over. I clenched my fists. “Adrian, don’t push me too far!” I growled. “Or are you not afraid of me telling them what really happened that day…” “He has a place to sleep, and that’s more than he deserves!” Seraphina’s shriek cut me off. “One more word out of you and you can get out! You’ll never see your son again!” I looked at Leo, who was watching the scene with a disturbing excitement on his face. The fight drained out of me. I just nodded. Seraphina pinched her nose in disgust and threw a filthy blanket at me. “Go wash up! You stink. The smell is giving me a headache.” The blanket, matted with dog hair and mud, felt like a shroud of shame. Leo giggled and clapped. “The bad man has to use the same things as the doggy! Serves you right!” I limped towards the backyard, every step a fresh wave of pain. A sudden downpour began, the cold rain washing over me, mingling with my blood, but it couldn’t wash away the humiliation that clung to me like a second skin. I curled up in the damp, mildew-scented blanket, pulling it tight around me, trying to hold on to the last shred of my dignity. 3 The night grew cold. I was shivering uncontrollably in the dark. Suddenly, a blinding light hit my face, forcing my eyes open. Adrian stood over me, holding a flashlight. At his side, his Doberman snarled, baring its teeth. “Sorry, Finn,” Adrian said, his voice dripping with false sympathy. “It seems Cerberus here wants his bed back.” He paused, his gaze flicking towards the open sewer grate nearby. He was waiting for me to break. My body trembled, but this time with rage. “Adrian, you’ve gone too far! Aren’t you afraid of retribution? Of a little thing called karma?” He let out a short, contemptuous laugh and squatted down, his voice a low, venomous whisper. “Retribution? I’m sleeping with your wife, I’ve claimed your son, and I control your family’s fortune. Does that sound like retribution to you?” He leaned closer. “Finn, a man this pathetic might as well be dead.” With a roar, I lunged, grabbing the front of his designer shirt. “You think I won’t tell everyone you’re the one who framed me?!” Adrian burst out laughing, easily shoving me off. “You really are an idiot!” he sneered. “There were no cameras on that mountain. Your mother’s body was never found. Who’s going to prove I did anything?” I stared at him, my throat tight, my eyes burning with helpless fury. He grabbed a fistful of my hair, his voice turning icy. “Besides, who in their right mind would believe a convicted murderer?” It was like being struck by lightning. The blood in my veins turned to ice. It was all a trap. A carefully constructed nightmare designed just for me. “You bastard!” I screamed, throwing myself at him again. He sidestepped, and I crashed to my knees on the concrete. The sharp pain was nothing compared to the agony in my soul. “Give me back my son!” I howled into the rain. Just then, a sharp voice cut through the storm. “What do you think you’re doing?!” Seraphina rushed over, shoved me aside, and shielded Adrian, her eyes wide with a concern that made my stomach churn. Behind her, Leo, like a furious little lion, charged at me and sank his teeth into my wrist. The pain was so sharp it made my scalp tingle. He pummeled my chest with his small fists. “You big bully! Don’t you hurt my daddy! I’ll kill you!” My whole body shaking, I tried to embrace him, but he picked up a rock and threw it, hitting me squarely on the forehead. Blood poured into my eyes, hot and sticky. I fought through the pain, my voice a strangled sob. “Leo… Dad didn’t kill anyone.” “Shut up!” Seraphina’s shriek pierced the night. She lunged and punched me hard across the face. “If you spout that nonsense again, I’ll rip your tongue out!” The blow sent me sprawling. My head cracked against the stone steps, and my vision swam with black spots. The cold rain mixed with my blood, seeping into my clothes, a bone-deep chill that had nothing to do with the weather. I lay helpless in a growing pool of my own blood, my gaze fixed on my son. “Leo…” I rasped. “Dad… is not a bad man.” His response was the cruelest blow of all. “Cerberus! Get him! Avenge my daddy!” His childish voice was filled with a terrifying glee that ripped my soul to shreds. The Doberman, with its gleaming white fangs, leaped. Its teeth sank into my calf, and a jolt of pure agony made my body convulse. Leo jumped up and down, pointing. “That’s what you get for bullying my dad! Bite him! Kill him!” The beast tore at my leg, its claws digging deep, bloody gouges into my arms as I curled into a ball, protecting my vital organs but offering no resistance. Blood snaked across the wet concrete. And in that moment, I finally understood. The sharpest blade in the world isn’t the torture of an enemy. It’s the hatred of a loved one, plunged directly into your heart.

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1 When I married William Lowe, he had nothing but debt. For five years, I worked three jobs to pay it off while raising our son, Aster—never complaining, believing our struggles would lead to happiness. Last week, his company secured massive funding. We celebrated, thinking our good days had arrived. Then I saw him on financial news: dressed in a tailored suit, introduced as the “sole heir to a billion-dollar empire,” laughing with his “investor”—socialite Celeste Cheng. The headline read: Lowe Heir Completes Five-Year “Poverty Trial,” Proving His Mettle to the Board. At home, Aster played with a limited-edition robot—one I’d designed during sleepless nights for freelance cash. He looked up, his eyes cold. “Daddy told me everything. You failed the test, Mommy. You love money too much.” My throat tightened. “Aster… what?” “A noble woman doesn’t count pennies,” he recited. “You have a ‘small-minded perspective.’ Your love is cheap.” Every sacrifice—the burns from late shifts, the overtime dizziness—meant nothing to them. I reached for him, but he pulled away. “Don’t touch my robot. You can’t afford it.” On the table lay a divorce agreement. William’s signature was already on it, a flamboyant scrawl, as triumphant as his image on the news. Next to it was a check. My “severance pay” for five years of my youth, three jobs, and countless sleepless nights. The irony was that just last week, we had been celebrating in this very spot. “Anna,” he had said, “the hard days are over. I’m going to make you the happiest woman in the world.” Looking back, it was just the final line of his script before the test ended. My phone rang, the word “Hubby” flashing on the screen. I answered, numb. “You saw it?” William’s voice came through the receiver, devoid of any warmth. “Anna, our ‘poverty trial’ is over. Congratulations on making it to the end. But unfortunately, you’ve been eliminated.” “…A test?” I finally found my voice, but it was as dry as sandpaper. “Yes, a test,” he chuckled, the sound dripping with mockery. “I needed to prove to the board that I could attract a loyal partner and build a business from nothing, even at my lowest point. Celeste is my investor and my real fiancée. You were just a randomly selected ‘wife’ to complete this social experiment.” “So, the tens of millions in debt…” “Oh, that was just another way of saying ‘startup capital.’ How else could I test someone’s character under extreme pressure?” “William,” I said, each word precise, my nails digging into my palms, “you’re a monster.” “Am I? But this ‘monster’ is now the heir to a multi-billion-dollar fortune. Anna, take the check and leave with some dignity. Don’t make me lose the last shred of respect I have for you.” He paused, then added a crueler blow. “By the way, Aster isn’t your son. He’s the product of an IVF procedure between Celeste and me. Your embryo was replaced. You were just an actor playing a role in his ‘social upbringing.’ Now, the real mistress of the house is coming home. Please move out of this ‘Lowe family’ house immediately.” “You told me the IVF failed because of exhaustion…” I felt as if I’d been plunged into an icy abyss. “Celeste and the Lowe family’s legal team will be there in half an hour to handle the handover. Remember, be graceful about it.” He wasn’t even listening. The line went dead. I held the phone like a red-hot iron. “Social upbringing”… So, even my right to be a mother was something they had given me, and then taken away. 2 I didn’t move. I wasn’t going to leave just like that. What was mine, I would take back, piece by piece, with my own two hands. The doorbell rang ten minutes earlier than William had said. They were impatient. I opened the door. Standing there was the same smiling socialite from the news, Celeste Cheng. Behind her were two men in suits, presumably from the Lowe family’s legal team. “Ms. Stone, hello.” Celeste’s voice was a velvet-wrapped knife. She didn’t act superior; instead, she looked at me with a sort of pity. “It must have been so hard on you these past five years. To be honest, you did a better job than I expected. Your acting was… very convincing.” She walked past me into the living room as if she owned the place. “Aster, darling, Mommy Celeste is here.” Aster immediately dropped his robot and ran into her arms like a kitten. “Mommy Celeste! You’re here!” Celeste expertly pulled a small box of Swiss candies from her Chanel bag, unwrapped one, and popped it into Aster’s mouth. “Of course, darling. Mommy Celeste promised you that as soon as Daddy’s ‘game’ was over, I’d come take you home. We’re going to Disneyland in Japan this weekend, how does that sound?” “Yay! I love Mommy Celeste the most!” Their intimate, natural interaction made them look like a real family. I was just an extra who had finished her scene and was supposed to exit the stage. My heart was too numb to feel any more pain. Holding Aster, Celeste glanced around the room, her gaze landing on the second-hand fabric sofa I had found at a flea market. She frowned slightly, as if she had seen something dirty. “William is too much. How could he let you live in a place like this, with such cheap furniture? This stuff is beneath him.” She turned to the lawyer behind her. “Mr. Lee, take a note. Have a cleaning company come later and throw all of this out. Nothing cheap belongs in William’s home.” “Of course, Ms. Cheng.” Every word she spoke was a precise negation of my entire five years of effort. I had scrimped and saved for our shared “future.” In her eyes, it was all just “cheap junk” that sullied her fiancé’s noble status. The lawyer, Mr. Lee, stepped forward and handed me a pen. “Ms. Stone, please sign the divorce agreement. A compensation of five million is the highest industry standard for a five-year ‘role-playing’ project. Mr. Lowe and Ms. Cheng are being very generous.” “Highest industry standard?” I repeated the words, the absurdity of it all hitting me. They had turned my life into a business transaction with a price tag. “Yes,” Mr. Lee said, pushing up his glasses. “Also, Ms. Cheng, in her kindness, has advised me to remind you not to cause any trouble. Any entanglement will be viewed by our legal department as a malicious provocation against the entire Lowe family. I trust you wouldn’t want to see those consequences.” His words were an undisguised threat. Celeste walked over, still holding Aster, a perfect smile on her face. “Ms. Stone, don’t misunderstand. We’re not threatening you. You’re a smart woman. You know how to make the right choice, don’t you?” She looked down at Aster. “Sweetheart, say goodbye to this… auntie. She’s leaving our home now.” Aster peeked out from her embrace. The eyes that once looked at me with such dependence were now filled with impatience and a chilling distance. “Mommy Celeste, can we go now? I don’t want to see her. Daddy says her poor-person smell will rub off on me.” Poor-person smell. Those words shattered the last shred of warmth in my heart. I looked at them, and suddenly, I laughed. 3 My laughter startled Celeste and Mr. Lee. They had probably expected tears, screams, hysterical curses, or pathetic begging. They had not expected laughter. “What are you laughing at?” Celeste’s brow furrowed again. “Nothing,” I said, my laughter dying down, my face as still as a stagnant pond. “I was just thinking, you two are very good actors as well.” I turned and went into the bedroom, pulling several storage boxes out from under the bed. I had bought them a few days ago, planning to organize our clothes for the new season, to welcome our “new life” after the hardship. “Well, well. Finally came to your senses? Ready to pack up and get out?” Celeste leaned against the doorframe, her arms crossed, her voice dripping with scorn. I ignored her. Systematically, one by one, I began to organize my “evidence” from the past five years. Every bank statement from my three jobs over five years, printed out. My own credit card bills, and every single transaction detail from William’s “debt-ridden” supplementary card. Celeste’s expression shifted from mockery to confusion, and then to a sliver of alarm. “Anna, what on earth are you doing? You can’t possibly think you can extort more money with this pile of scrap paper? Let me tell you, it’s useless. We have the best legal team in the country.” I still said nothing. From a separate folder, I took out a thick stack of receipts. Then, I took out the final item: the purchase record and invoice for Aster’s limited-edition robot. The invoice was in my name. The payment was from my salary card. I placed the invoice gently on top of all the other evidence, like a final, damning seal on my five years of absurdity. When I was done, I closed the lids on the boxes. Three large boxes in total. There wasn’t a single piece of clothing, a single pair of shoes, or a single bottle of makeup inside. Only five years of my blood, sweat, time, and a life that had been trampled into worthlessness. I looked up at Celeste and Mr. Lee. “I’m taking these with me.” Mr. Lee clearly found my behavior incomprehensible. “Ms. Stone, these are records of shared household expenses. You have no right to take them unilaterally. And they cannot be used as a basis for demanding more compensation.” “Who said I was demanding more compensation?” I retorted. I looked at Celeste. She was staring at me as if I were insane, her lips curled in an undisguised sneer. “Incorrigible. Still only care about money. Anna, you’re a lost cause.” “Yes,” I nodded, admitting it frankly. “I am incorrigible. I do only care about money.” Because in this world, only money would never betray me. I dragged the heavy boxes of “scrap paper” to the entryway and put on my shoes. From beginning to end, I never looked at Aster again. I only took my ID, passport, bank cards, and these boxes, which were now more important to me than my own life. As I opened the door, ready to leave the “home” I had poured five years of my heart into, Celeste’s voice, not loud but clear enough for me to hear, drifted from behind me. “See, sweetheart? Mommy Celeste was right. A woman like that is not fit to be your mother. Her world revolves around money.” The moment the door closed, I heard their laughter.

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My mother was the heroine of a redemption story. The kind who carries a broken family on her back, who, despite being covered in scars herself, becomes a little sun, warming the cold heart of the male lead. She finally “redeemed” him. As a reward, they got married, and then they had me. But the story was far from over. The novel got a sequel. My father was still the male lead. But my mother… she became the villainous ex-wife who used every despicable trick in the book to win him back, only to meet a tragic end, a mere foil to highlight the new heroine’s purity and kindness. When my father, in a bid to protect the “wronged” new heroine, slapped my mother in front of everyone and announced their engagement was off, my mother completely snapped. Abandoned by her family, ridiculed by the world, she leaped from a skyscraper. When I opened my eyes again, we were back at the beginning of the story. Don’t be afraid, Mom. This time, I’ll help you get back everything we deserve. … The day my mother was thrown out of the Thorne estate, she wasn’t wearing her favorite red dress. She always said that red was the color of life, full of passion and fire. But that day, she wore only a thin white shirt, her long hair a mess, the shadows of her lashes hiding the expression in her eyes. Two bodyguards in black suits flanked her, dragging her like a piece of trash. I was five years old. Hearing the commotion, I came out of my room, having to stand on my tiptoes to see over the hallway banister. A woman, her face streaked with tears, was nestled against my father’s side. “Arthur, don’t do this to Miss Vance,” the new heroine’s voice was soft and kind, but every word was a poisoned dagger, aimed squarely at my mother’s heart. “She… she only did it because she loves you too much.” My father looked down at my mother, his eyes filled with nothing but disgust and ice. “Katherine, I gave you a chance.” His voice was low, carrying a weight that permitted no argument. My mother didn’t speak. She just stared at me, her gaze silent and intense. It seemed my father had only just remembered I existed. He frowned and walked toward me. “Orion, come here.” I didn’t move. I just kept looking at my mother. In my last life, it was at this very spot that my nanny pulled me away, forcing me to watch as my mother was swallowed by despair. I was the final straw that broke her. Because she realized that even the child she had nearly died to bring into the world had ultimately chosen her glamorous, powerful father. But this time, it would be different. I ignored the nanny beside me. I ignored the hand my father held out to me. I took off on my little legs, one step at a time, until I was standing in front of my mother. I reached out my small hand and tried, clumsily, to wipe away the tear tracks that had long since dried on her cheeks. “Mommy, don’t cry.” Her body trembled violently. In those empty eyes, a flicker of light finally appeared. Her eyes widened, her lips moved, but no sound came out. And Arthur Thorne, my dear father, his face instantly turned a shade of livid green. “Orion Thorne! Do you have any idea what you’re doing?!” It was one of the countless times he had yelled my full name at me. In his world, I was first the nuisance who competed for my mother’s attention, and later, the burdensome reminder of a past he couldn’t shake. His focus had long since shifted to the new heroine, Serena. Serena tugged at his sleeve. “Arthur, don’t scare him. Orion is still so young. He just… he just can’t bear to leave his mother.” I paid no attention to their performance. I just tilted my head back and looked at my mother. “Mommy, let’s go home.” “Insolent child! Truly insolent!” I heard the old man behind Arthur—my grandfather—hiss, his cane thumping angrily on the floor. My mother was still dragged away in the end, but unlike last time, I didn’t stay at the Thorne estate. I broke free from the bodyguard who tried to grab me and shot out like a little cannonball, clinging desperately to my mother’s leg. “I want my mommy! I only want my mommy!” I wailed, my small body shaking with the force of my sobs. I knew that for a five-year-old, crying was the only weapon. And for a mother who had just lost everything, who had been abandoned by the entire world, her child’s absolute, unwavering dependence was a lifeline. It worked. For the first time, a flicker of raw emotion crossed my mother’s pale face. She knelt, pulling me into a tight embrace. I felt a large, damp patch spread where my head rested against her chest. “Orion… my Orion…” She was crying, a suppressed, desperate sound. My father’s expression was as dark as it was when he was planning a hostile takeover. He started toward me, but my grandfather stopped him. “Arthur Thorne! Look at the mess you’ve made!” My grandfather’s voice was thick with fury. “The boy is five years old! How do you expect him to face a father who tried to drive his own mother to her death?” My grandfather didn’t like my mother. He thought her family wasn’t prominent enough, her personality too flamboyant. But he valued the Thorne bloodline and the family’s reputation above all else. For his son to drive his fiancée mad and abandon his own child for another woman was, in my grandfather’s eyes, a scandal that could threaten his position as heir. In the end, between my crying and my grandfather’s pressure, Arthur Thorne relented. My mother could take me with her. But in exchange, she had to sign an agreement, forever relinquishing any claim to the Thorne family fortune and promising never to set foot in this city again. I saw my mother’s hand tremble, but she glanced at me in her arms and finally picked up the pen. After signing, she staggered to her feet, took my hand, and walked out of that gilded cage without a single look back. The sunlight outside was harsh. I squinted, looking up at my mother’s tense profile. Don’t be afraid, Mom. Last time, they forced you into hell. This time, I will personally drag down every single person who ever hurt us. — The truth is, I was reborn with my memories intact. In my previous life, I chose to stay with my father. I was so naive. I thought that if I could win his approval, my mother could come back to me. I thought that if I was exceptional enough, hardworking enough, he would see her worth and change his mind. I was wrong. In the world of the male lead, the heroine is the only rule. Anyone who gets too close, who tries to divert his attention, is an enemy. Especially the biological child of his ex-wife. He sent me abroad to receive the most rigorous elite education, all for my “own good,” he said. In reality, it was to keep me away from Serena, afraid that the daughter of the villainess would contaminate his pure, untainted true love. And my mother, after losing all contact with me, completely broke down. She started drinking, self-harming, retaliating against herself and Serena in the most extreme ways. Finally, to protect Serena from being harassed on the eve of their wedding, Arthur Thorne had my mother committed to a psychiatric hospital. I was only allowed to return to the country for her funeral. By then, I was twenty-five, armed with a degree from a top global university, a rising star on Wall Street. I thought I finally had enough power. I began a frenzied campaign of revenge against Arthur Thorne, using all my knowledge and connections to create public scandals and attack his company. But I was up against the male lead of a novel, a favorite of fate itself. All my efforts, in the face of his plot armor, seemed laughable and pathetic. My career was ruined, my reputation destroyed. In a carefully orchestrated “accidental” car crash, my life, filled with regrets and mistakes, came to an end. As red filled my vision, I thought of that night my mother was thrown out. If… if I had chosen my mother then, would things have been different? If I hadn’t left her, would she have been crushed by despair so quickly? If I had been smarter, sooner, could I have helped her escape that man-eating place? When I opened my eyes again, I was five years old. Back at the beginning of the tragedy. This time, I wouldn’t make the same mistake. I want my mother to live, and to live more brilliantly than anyone else. Arthur Thorne, Serena… the debt they owe us, I will collect it, bit by bit, with interest. We moved into a tiny apartment. Compared to the Thorne estate, it wasn’t even as big as one of their bathrooms. My mother sold all her designer bags and jewelry just to make the rent. She started looking for a job, but the title of “Arthur Thorne’s ex-fiancée” was like a brand, overshadowing her top-tier education and brilliant track record. No one dared to hire her. I could see her growing more haggard by the day. But when I would stumble into her room in the middle of the night, the light still on, she would just stroke my head and say, “Orion, why are you still awake? Should Mommy sing you a lullaby?” I had to do something. That afternoon, while my mother, exhausted from sleepless nights, was finally napping, I quietly took her phone. I found a number, the number of the only person who had offered me a helping hand in my past life. My grandfather. Using the clumsy, one-word-at-a-time typing of a child, I sent him a text message. [Grandpa, will you still come see Orion? Orion misses you a lot.] My grandfather cared only for reputation, but even so, he had secured me an opportunity to study in my past life. Of course, I wouldn’t approach him based on that alone. I took a picture of a practice test and sent it to him. [The boy next door threw away his test papers. Orion got all the answers right!] The innocent words of a five-year-old can be far more moving than the accusations of an adult. Especially when that child can ace a middle school exam. After sending the text, I immediately deleted the records. With that done, I lay back down next to my mother and obediently closed my eyes. Hiding one’s strength is a tactic for dealing with enemies. Right now, I needed to secure a powerful ally for my mother and me as quickly as possible. — My grandfather moved faster than I expected. The very next day, a well-dressed woman knocked on our apartment door. She introduced herself as my grandfather’s personal assistant, Miss Lee. Miss Lee brought all sorts of expensive supplements, toys, and an anonymous black card. “Young Master, this is a small token from the Chairman,” she said with a smile, then turned to my mother, her tone all business. “Miss Vance, the Chairman said that Orion is, after all, Thorne family blood, and he cannot be allowed to suffer. Please take this card. The pin is the Young Master’s birthday. Additionally, the Chairman has arranged a job for you. You can start tomorrow.” My mother stared at the black card, her hands clenched into tight fists. She bit her lip, about to refuse, but I stepped forward and took the card from Miss Lee’s hand. “Thank you, miss,” I said, looking up at her with a sweet smile. “Please tell Grandpa that Orion will be a good boy and won’t cause him any trouble.” My mother was stunned. She looked at me, her expression a complex mixture of emotions. A flash of approval crossed Miss Lee’s eyes. She gave my mother a polite nod and left. After the door closed, my mother couldn’t hold it in any longer. “Orion, how could you… How could you show weakness to them!” she hissed, her voice cracking as she knelt down. “They threw us out like garbage! This is no different from begging!” I stood on my tiptoes and gently pressed my lips to her forehead. “Mommy, this isn’t begging,” I said, taking her hand and speaking each word clearly. “This is the youth Arthur Thorne owes you. This is the child support the Thorne family owes me. This is what you rightfully deserve.” I knew that for a five-year-old to make such a calculated move was nothing short of shocking. But I was terrified. I was afraid of spending too much energy on pretending, of giving up the opportunity to build our strength. I was afraid that growing up at a normal pace would be too slow, that I wouldn’t be able to keep up with Arthur Thorne’s persecution of her. I was afraid that my mother, whom I had just gotten back, would once again be consumed by the story’s plot. Even if… she might really think I was a monster. My mother’s mouth opened, as if she were seeing me for the first time. I looked down, fighting back my tears, and pressed the cold black card into her palm. “Mommy, you’re my hero. I don’t want you to be worn down by life every day. I want to make Arthur Thorne regret it. I want to make everyone who looked down on us regret it.” My voice was small, my fingers trembling with fear. I didn’t dare look up at her. If she was scared, if she wanted to push me away, I wanted my last memory of her to be her caring expression. I was pulled into a warm, strong embrace. It wasn’t the desperate grasp of someone clinging to a lifeline, but an embrace full of power. “My Orion…” I heard my mother’s hoarse cry. “You… how much have you suffered?” Her thirty-three-year-old arms reached across time and space, holding her twenty-five-year-old soul tight. I broke down in her arms, sobbing. My mother started her new job at the company my grandfather arranged. It was a subsidiary of Thorne Industries. The position wasn’t high, but it was stable and quiet, and directly under my grandfather’s purview. I knew it was a form of surveillance. My grandfather had given us a stable life, but on the condition that we stay in our lane and not disturb the happy life of Arthur Thorne and Serena. Of course I wouldn’t disturb them. At least, not yet. I began to display a “talent” for finance and computers. I begged my mother to buy me a computer, and I spent my days immersed in financial news and coding websites, periodically sending my grandfather updates on my progress via text. I acted like a child who, completely disillusioned with his father, had turned to his grandfather for affection. After I once again pointed out a hidden problem in a project my grandfather had given me as a joke, he gave me a separate card. I used the money to set up an anonymous account and started dabbling in the stock market. With inside information from my past life and my experience fighting against my father, I quickly multiplied the money on the card several times over. In my grandfather’s eyes, despite occasional losses, I was maximizing the profits on all my stocks as much as possible. If I could become the story’s biggest villain without knowing the future, then with the extra information I had from being reborn, I certainly wouldn’t fail just because of a few butterfly effects from my investments. Before entering the stock market, I had already registered an overseas account using my mother’s information. Within a year, the account had five million dollars. This was our startup capital, the ammunition for our future counterattack. And my mother, of course, knew all of this. In her eyes, I was a child who had died before adulthood and been reborn, but still needed her protection. That was fine. The dark, dirty path of revenge was one I would walk alone.

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1 At our joint bachelor party, my fiancé, Edward, was playing a game of truth or dare with his childhood friend, Jenna. The dare was savage: whoever drew the card had to hook up for a one-night stand with the person next to them, right then and there. The suggestion alone made my stomach turn. “Hey, maybe let’s just do a truth instead?” I said, trying to keep my voice light. But Jenna wasn’t having it. She shot me a look of pure contempt. “Oh, Bella, don’t be such a prude. If I don’t have a problem with it, why should you?” Then, she turned her gaze to Edward. “Edward… are you up for it?” The room erupted in a chorus of jeers and whistles. “See? Bella’s no fun. If Edward doesn’t want to, I’m in! Pick me, Jenna!” I grabbed Edward’s arm, ready to drag him out of there, but he violently shook me off. “If I leave, what’s Jenna supposed to do?” he snapped, his voice tight with annoyance. “Bella, we’re getting married tomorrow. Can’t I have one last night of freedom?” Before I could answer, he pushed Jenna down onto the private room’s worn velvet couch, pinning her beneath him as our friends cheered them on. Watching their entangled silhouettes, a cold certainty settled in my heart. There was no future for us. … The other guests, hungry for drama, pulled out their phones, filming through the frosted glass of the adjoining room. The club’s soundproofing was a joke. Through the thin door, Jenna’s soft moans were sickeningly clear. Jenna’s best friend sauntered over, her phone aimed directly at my face. “Just a game, Bella,” she said with a smirk. “You’re not actually mad, are you? Our Jenna always follows through.” She leaned in conspiratorially. “Besides, Edward isn’t exactly losing out. It’s Jenna’s first time, you know.” Someone from the crowd chimed in, “Damn, Jenna really knows how to play! Unlike some people.” “Some people,” of course, meant me. A short while later, Edward emerged, shirtless. His chest was a roadmap of angry red scratches and smeared lipstick. The intensity of their “game” was written all over him. I stepped forward, intending to just get him and leave. But before I could speak, he ripped the jacket off my shoulders. The force of it snapped one of my acrylics, the one I’d just had done for the wedding. Pain shot up my finger, and my eyes welled with tears, but Edward didn’t even glance at it. “I tore Jenna’s dress,” he said flatly. “She can wear your jacket.” He looked at me, his expression hardening. “It’s just a jacket, Bella. What are you crying for?” Jenna’s languid voice drifted from the other room. “Edward, honey… I can’t go back on my word. A whole night means a whole night.” The crowd went wild. “Dude, don’t back out now! A girl’s making the first move!” Edward let out a helpless laugh, but his eyes were filled with a fondness that made me sick. “What am I going to do with her?” he said, shaking his head. “Looks like she’s planning on keeping me up all night. Bella, go buy a box of condoms.” I stared at him, unable to believe what I was hearing. He rubbed his forehead, his patience wearing thin. “Bella, don’t start. We’re getting married tomorrow. Don’t be so petty. You know I’m yours forever.” I just stared at him—this man, my future husband—and felt like I was looking at a complete stranger. Jenna’s friend was shaking with silent laughter, pointing at my stunned, frozen form. “You hear that, Bella? Edward wants you to go buy them condoms!” I slapped her phone out of my face and turned to Edward, a cold smile on my lips. “Why bother with condoms? If she gets pregnant, you can be a happy little family. Isn’t that what she’s wanted all along, to crawl into your bed? Fine. You have my blessing.” Jenna appeared behind Edward, completely naked, her eyes brimming with perfectly-formed tears. “Bella, I know you don’t like me,” she sobbed, “but it was just a game! I didn’t know you couldn’t take a joke! If you don’t like it, I won’t pick Edward, okay? I’ll pick someone else!” Edward immediately wrapped my jacket around her bare shoulders, shielding her. “Don’t be ridiculous! You think I’d let any other man touch you?” He spun around to face me, his calm expression now a mask of fury. “Apologize, Bella. Now.” I couldn’t help but laugh, a bitter, hollow sound. I met his gaze and didn’t say a word. His face fell, filled with disappointment. “Bella, she’s like a sister to me. Can you stop making such a big deal out of everything?” “A sister?” I shot back. “What kind of sister climbs into her brother’s bed? I’ve never met a sister that shameless.” The words had barely left my mouth when his hand flew, slapping me hard across the face. My head slammed against the wall. The room spun, and a burning sting spread across my cheek. I fought back the tears, my eyes fixed on Edward, who was now staring at his own hand with a mix of anger and regret. “You shouldn’t have said that,” he muttered, as if that excused it. Jenna watched me with triumphant eyes, but her words were dripping with false sympathy. “It’s all my fault, Edward. Don’t be mad at Bella. I shouldn’t have followed the rules. I definitely shouldn’t have picked you!” Edward used the same hand he’d just hit me with to pull Jenna into a comforting embrace. That’s when the tears I’d been holding back finally broke free. I turned and ran. Outside, the sky had opened up, a torrential downpour soaking me to the bone in seconds. In my haste, I’d left my phone behind. But there was no way I was going back in there to face them again. I walked for three hours in the rain before I finally made it home. 2 The moment I stepped inside, I started for the bedroom to change. Edward emerged from the room, walking on tiptoe. When he saw me, drenched and shivering, a flicker of concern crossed his face. He grabbed a towel and started rubbing my hair, his touch rough. “You’re a grown woman. Why do you have to punish your own body every time you get upset?” The memory of what he’d just done with Jenna was still raw. I recoiled from his touch. “Don’t touch me,” I spat. “You make me sick.” I met his eyes, my silence a challenge. Then I smelled it—the cloying scent of rose perfume, Jenna’s favorite, clinging to him. A wave of physical and emotional nausea washed over me. I shoved him away and ran to the bathroom, where I retched until my stomach was empty. When I came out, Edward was leaning against the doorframe, a cold smirk on his face. “So, I make you sick, do I, Bella?” I wiped my mouth, my gaze like ice. “Yes. You’re disgusting.” His hand shot out, clamping around my neck. His eyes were hard and cruel. “Have I been too good to you, Bella? Have I given you the illusion that you can control me?” I turned my head away, a silent refusal of his presence. It only enraged him further. He tore my soaked dress from my body. I instinctively crossed my arms over my chest, a futile attempt to shield myself. Edward saw right through my fragile composure. “We’re getting married tomorrow,” he sneered. “Stop pretending you’re some kind of saint.” He slammed me against the door and, without any care or preparation, forced himself inside me. The pain was so intense I trembled, but he didn’t stop. It wasn’t lovemaking; it was punishment. By the time he was finished, I could barely stand. He picked me up, my body limp and weak, and dropped me onto the sofa. Just then, the bedroom door creaked open. Jenna walked out, wearing my silk pajamas. She saw me lying there, naked and exposed, and a flash of irritation crossed her face. “Really, Edward? After we were done this afternoon, you at least had the decency to clean me up. Aren’t you going to do the same for Bella?” Edward lit a cigarette, his eyes raking over my bruised body. “Jenna, why don’t you help Bella take a bath?” I shoved her outstretched hand away and, forcing myself through the pain, stumbled to the bathroom. He had been merciless. My skin was a canvas of dark bruises, purples and blues blooming across my body like grotesque flowers. Staring at my own hollowed-out reflection in the mirror, a wave of profound sorrow washed over me. When I finally emerged, the dining table was set with a full meal Jenna had prepared. She was wearing a low-cut tank top, her chest on full display. Every time Edward looked at her, he got an eyeful. Seeing me, Jenna put on a show of cheerful hospitality. “Oh, Bella, you’re out! Come and eat! I asked Edward all your favorites and made you shrimp scampi!” I ignored her and started toward the guest room. Edward grabbed my wrist, his grip so tight I winced. “Is this how your parents raised you? Jenna made this food especially for you. I don’t care if you’re not hungry. You’re going to sit down and eat every last bite.” He forced me into a chair. I ate mechanically, exhausted, each bite a struggle. Jenna played the perfect hostess, flitting around, placing food on my plate and Edward’s. She acted more like the lady of the house than I ever had. Edward, who was normally a notorious germaphobe, didn’t protest once. I finished as quickly as I could and stood to leave. This time, no one stopped me.

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In our circle, Larry was famous for being completely obsessed with his fiancée. For me. He’d rejected a strategic marriage arranged by his family and spent three years showering me with affection. But at his bachelor party, just before our wedding, the girl he never got over asked him, “If I crashed your wedding, would you leave with me?” He looked at her, his voice deadly serious, and said, “Yes.” Biting back tears, I sent a text to my best friend, the heiress to a billion-dollar fortune. 【Can you get me out of here? As fast as possible.】 Seven minutes later, she arrived, her Bugatti screaming to a halt, the tires practically smoking. “I told you,” she fumed, “a girl with your looks and personality should be marrying into old money and living a life of luxury! My brother is gorgeous, my dad’s still a silver fox. Take your pick!” 1 With the wedding just around the corner, Larry’s childhood friends threw him a massive bachelor party. Everyone in his circle knew how devoted he was to me. If I wasn’t with him, he’d be home by ten, regardless of whether the party was still going. So this time, they made sure to invite me too. But the moment I walked in, something felt off. Everyone greeted me with big smiles, but they were shooting subtle, knowing glances at Larry. I couldn’t figure it out. After we were all seated, a girl with a sharp, short haircut hurried in. “Sorry, guys! The traffic was a nightmare.” She was tall and slender, her voice bright and confident. Beside me, Larry froze. It was the first time I had ever seen an expression on someone’s face that so perfectly mirrored a heart skipping a beat. The girl extended a hand to me, her smile wide. “You must be the bride-to-be! It’s great to meet you. I’m Joyce.” The name hit me like a physical blow. Suddenly, everything made sense. This was Joyce. The one that got away. The girl Larry had been in love with for five years. The stories were legendary. Back then, Larry wasn’t the calm, steady man I knew. He had pursued her with a reckless passion, arranging thousands of roses on the lawn beneath her window and setting off a hundred meters of fireworks along a private beach, all for her. His entire youth had been a monument to his love for Joyce. But three years ago, she had left him behind without a second thought, following another guy to study abroad. That was when I met Larry. He’d walked toward me through the hazy, dim lights of a crowded bar. I’d only had half a glass of wine, but I felt drunk on his presence alone. I immediately started grilling my friends for information about him. When they finally pushed me in front of him, my tongue was tied in knots. “My name is Chloe,” I’d stammered. “And you are… Mr. Larry?” The table erupted in laughter. And for the first time in months, the permanent frown on Larry’s face smoothed into a genuine smile. After we got together, Larry poured all of his tenderness into our relationship. He memorized every single thing I loved and hated to eat. He insisted on picking me up from work himself, no matter how late I stayed. Every holiday, every anniversary, was marked by a thoughtful, perfect gift. He posted photos of me all over his social media and introduced me to every last one of his friends and family. Even his friends were jealous. “Someone else planted the tree, but Chloe gets to enjoy the shade,” they’d tease. “You really lucked out. Larry chased the most difficult girl in the world and came out of it with a master’s degree in relationships. Now you get to reap all the benefits.” Their words never bothered me. Because they always added that I was nothing like her, not in looks, not in personality. I wasn’t a replacement. And more importantly, I could feel it. I knew Larry loved me. After three years of intense, passionate love, he had proposed. I thought our story was heading for its happy ending. But right then, reality delivered a crushing blow. 2 Joyce sat down beside me without any awkwardness, pulling a bottle of perfume from her purse and handing it to me. “A wedding gift,” she said, her eyes crinkling into a smile. “The scent is incredibly sophisticated. I’ve been wearing it for almost eight years and never gotten tired of it.” I had to admit, she was charming. Graceful, with an infectious personality. She’d even brought a gift for me, not for Larry. I accepted it with a thank you. Then she pulled out her phone. “Let’s connect on social media. If Larry ever gives you any trouble, you come straight to me. We may have grown up together, but I’m not on his side. I’ll always have your back.” Her declaration earned a round of applause from the table. “That’s our Joyce! Still the queen!” someone cheered. Joyce paused, then looked past me to Larry, who was sitting on my other side. “Hey, you. What’s your deal? It’s been three years. Cat got your tongue?” Around us, people kept drinking and eating, but their eyes were glued to the three of us, hungry for the drama they knew was coming. I could see the tips of Larry’s ears turning a deep shade of red. He couldn’t even bring himself to look at her. He just clutched his glass, attempting a joke. “It’s not that. We’ve just grown apart. I don’t know what to say.” Joyce laughed. “So it’s my fault for not keeping in touch?” She raised her glass to him. “Then let’s make sure we stay in touch from now on.” Larry glanced at me quickly before replying, “I’m under strict management these days. If you want to talk to me, you’ll have to go through an extra step: get approval from my fiancée first.” They both smiled, a silent truce passing between them as their glasses clinked. Everything was out in the open, no hidden meanings, no secrets. But for some reason, sitting between them, I felt a suffocating pressure in my chest. Maybe it was because after three years, I knew Larry’s body language like the back of my hand. And tonight, he was radiating pure, unadulterated nervousness. The night wore on with drinks, songs, and stupid party games. By the end, everyone was a little drunk. Larry lost a round of rock-paper-scissors to Joyce and chose “Truth.” Joyce, who had been the picture of grace all evening, suddenly let her mask slip. She tilted her head, her voice a playful, drunken purr. “If I crashed your wedding and asked you to leave with me, would you go?” The question detonated in the already rowdy atmosphere. The table erupted. “Oh, finally! Took you two all night to stop pretending!” “Now this is more like it!” “Come on, Larry! Answer the question! Would you go with her?” Larry’s eyes were bloodshot from the alcohol. He stared at Joyce, a storm of emotions swirling in his gaze. Then, with devastating earnestness, he said, “Yes.” The group exploded. “HOLY SHIT! I KNEW IT!” “CRASH THE WEDDING! CRASH THE WEDDING!” Their cheers drew the attention of the entire bar. I sat frozen between them, my breath catching in my throat, my hands starting to tremble. I had no idea how to handle this public humiliation. Using the excuse of needing the restroom, I fled. Fighting back tears, I texted my best friend, Zara. 【Can you get me out of here? As fast as possible.】 Her call came instantly. “What’s wrong? Did those assholes do something to you?” “No, just… don’t ask. Can you just come get me?” My voice was already cracking. Hearing the panic, Zara’s voice sharpened. “Stay put. I’m on my way. Ten minutes. No, seven!” “You don’t have to rush. Drive safe.” “Don’t tell me what to do!” 3 Seven minutes later, Zara’s Bugatti screeched up to the curb, a chariot of fire and fury. The moment I saw her, the dam broke, and my eyes filled with tears. She grabbed my hand, her voice tight with rage. “What the hell did you people do to her?! And Larry, are you dead? Can’t you see how upset she is?” Zara was the heiress to the Vance fortune, and she carried herself with an imperious aura that could silence a room. Her arrival immediately subdued the rowdy crowd. Then her gaze fell on Joyce, and her eyes turned to daggers. “Oh. So you’re here.” Joyce stood up and tried to put a comforting arm around me, her smile cloyingly sweet. “We were just playing a game. Don’t tell me you actually got upset? I can be a little blunt sometimes. It’s my first time hanging out with someone so… delicate. I guess I didn’t read the room right. My bad.” Zara yanked me behind her. “Don’t you touch her. And you’re not blunt, you’re just a bitch who plays dumb.” By now, Larry had sobered up a little. He rubbed his temples and stood. “Chloe’s tired. I should take her home.” Zara laughed, a cold, sharp sound. “I’m here now. Why would she need you? Go back to playing dead.” The others stood around awkwardly as Zara started gathering my things. She muttered under her breath as she stuffed my purse. “I told you. A girl with your looks and temperament should be marrying into an old-money family and living a pampered life. But no, you had to go and slum it with the nouveau riche. Their world is full of backstabbing and two-faced phonies. It’s no place for a sweet, genuine person like you.” Larry’s family was worth hundreds of millions. Calling them nouveau riche was a unique kind of insult, but coming from Zara Vance, no one dared to argue. After packing my bag, she spotted the elegantly wrapped perfume bottle inside. Without a word, she pulled it out and tossed it onto the floor. “What is this outdated junk? The nerve of some people, giving this as a gift.” The bottle rolled across the floor and came to a stop at Joyce’s feet. The smile was wiped clean from her face. Zara pulled me toward the door. Larry rushed after us, grabbing my arm. “Chloe, don’t be angry. It was the atmosphere, the drinks… She just threw that question at me, and my mind went blank.” I looked into his eyes, once so full of love, and felt all my strength drain away. “Are you trying to say it was just a reflex? That it came from your heart? That you truly want to be with her?” “Of course not! Chloe, it was a game. If I had said no, she would have been completely humiliated in front of all our friends.” “So to protect her pride, you were willing to grind mine into the dust?” “I gave her a polite answer,” he insisted. “I’m giving you a marriage.” I pulled my arm away, a bitter laugh escaping my lips. “Oh, so I’m the lucky one? Larry, we’ve been together for three years, and I never realized you were such a master at playing both sides.” Just then, Zara pulled the car around and laid on the horn. Larry tried to grab my arm again. “Let me take you home. We can talk on the way.” Zara scowled. “If you’ve got so much free time, why don’t you take that electric Bentley of yours and drive for Uber for a few hours? Maybe it’ll clear your head.” Larry froze. For the first time, his prized car had become a source of shame. I opened the passenger door and got in. I turned back to look at him one last time. “The wedding is off,” I said, my voice clear and steady. “I think we both have some serious thinking to do.” 4 On the way home, I mindlessly scrolled through my social media feed and saw two new posts from Joyce. The first: 【She’s nothing like me. Not one bit. But don’t you think that just makes it all the more obvious?】 The second: 【If you spent the last three years trying to prove that I was wrong to leave you, then congratulations. You’ve succeeded.】 The emotions I’d been suppressing all night finally shattered. I broke down, sobbing uncontrollably. I mourned the three years of genuine love I had poured into a lie. I had believed Larry’s meticulous, all-consuming devotion was born from love. I was wrong. It was all a performance for her. I was just a pawn in their high-stakes game of emotional manipulation. Zara was not the kind of girl who offered gentle reassurances. She was a problem solver. “Stop crying,” she said bluntly. “There are plenty of men in the world. Just get a new one. My brother is gorgeous, and my dad’s still a silver fox. Take your pick!” Her absurd offer made me laugh through my tears. “Zara, I feel so useless. Even now, I need you to fight my battles for me.” She patted my head gently. “Don’t be stupid. Everyone’s different. Our mom died when we were young, and the three of us who were left behind… we’re not exactly normal. We don’t know how to express love. I was a rebellious nightmare growing up. There aren’t many times I actually get to be useful. “But you,” she continued, her voice softening, “you’re a literal angel. Every day with you feels like a warm spring breeze. You’re the best doctor in the city, the only one who can give a shot without it hurting. When I was stuck in the hospital, if you hadn’t been there every day, patiently cheering me up, I never would have made it through.” Her words were a balm to my shattered self-esteem. “Seriously though,” she said, “are you really not going to consider marrying into my family?” She had said this many times before. I’d met Zara when she was hospitalized for an illness. The hospital director was officially her attending physician, and I was his assistant. But because I had a gentle bedside manner and gave painless injections, Zara threw her weight around and demanded I be made her primary doctor. We’d been inseparable ever since. I was already dating Larry at the time, a fact Zara lamented daily. “Why couldn’t I have gotten sick a few months earlier! You were still single then! I could have brought you home to be my sister-in-law!” The innocent bystander in these fantasies was Julian—Zara’s older brother, who had flown home from his studies abroad specifically to visit her. He had not been amused. Thanks to her relentless campaign, my relationship with Julian had started and remained at absolute zero. Whenever we crossed paths, I’d stare at the floor in embarrassment while he’d stare at the ceiling. We were masters of mutual avoidance. Recently, Julian had returned from abroad for good and had taken a position at my hospital. In the office right next to mine. The arrival of the brilliant, aloof, and devastatingly handsome doctor had sent the entire hospital into a frenzy. Nurses and doctors alike found excuses to walk past his office. The number of people calling in sick dropped dramatically. I, on the other hand, had started holding my bladder all day, terrified of running into him in the hallway. Seeing my silence, Zara’s eyes lit up. “You’re quiet. Does that mean you’re seriously considering it? So, who’s it gonna be? My brother or my dad?” My mouth twitched. “If those are my only two options, I’d rather take your dad.” Zara beamed. “Excellent! That’s what I was thinking too! He’s older, so he’ll die sooner. You’ll inherit everything, and we can spend our days hiring male models! My brother’s no good. He’s a health nut, works out all the time… I’m afraid you won’t outlive him.” “…”

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Ever since my brother found out I wasn’t his biological sister, he’s been treating me like I’m made of ice. The heartbreak was unbearable. As I was packing my bags to get out of his life, I stumbled upon his journal. 【I’m so screwed. She’s not my real sister. I can’t control myself anymore.】 【God, I want to kiss my sister’s… her.】 【She crawled into my bed tonight, her face flushed from the heat, whispering ‘brother’ in that soft, sleepy voice. It almost sent me over the edge.】 【She can’t even solve a simple calculus problem. It drives me insane. Makes me want to take a whip to her.】 【The shower is tiny, but she still has to squeeze in with me. Doesn’t she know I could slam her against the wall until she can’t see straight?】 【If she calls me ‘brother’ one more time, I’m going to banish her to the Arctic.】 I closed the journal. Silently, I walked down to the basement. My trembling hands reached for the chains, the candles, the leather whip. Brother, you get to punish me during the day. But tonight… tonight it’s my turn. … When I got home from class, Liam was doing laundry. He stood there in a crisp white shirt and black slacks, sleeves rolled up to reveal his strong, veined forearms. Broad shoulders, narrow waist—the picture of perfection. “Brother, you’re home early,” I said, wrapping my arms around his waist from behind and resting my head against his back. His whole body went rigid. After a moment, he resumed his task, his voice cold as steel. “Sophie, let go.” That’s when I saw them. My lace bra and camisole, tossed to the side, separate from the rest of the laundry. A lump formed in my throat. Just a few days ago, before the DNA results came back, he wasn’t like this. Was blood really that important to him? When my biological parents showed up, I refused to acknowledge them. They abandoned me eighteen years ago; what right did they have to reclaim me now that I was grown? My adoptive parents insisted on not even doing a test, saying I would always be their daughter. But Liam, my brother, had to know for sure. He had to shatter that last glimmer of hope, cementing the fact that we shared no blood. And in just a few days, we’d become such strangers that he couldn’t even wash our clothes together. “Fine! Let go, then! I’ll move out tomorrow!” I snapped, giving his leg a petulant kick. “You can have this whole mansion to yourself! I’m tired of feeling like a charity case!” I snatched my things and stormed off. Tears streamed down my face as I washed my clothes in the sink. But wait… where were my panties? They must have gotten lost in the shuffle. At dinner, neither of us mentioned the fight. Liam was silent, methodically placing food on my plate. I sulked, burying my face in my bowl. Then, a red folder landed on the table beside me. “I signed the house over to you a while ago,” he said, his tone casual. “It’s yours. Don’t overthink it.” Because my university was in the same city as his company, our parents had bought this house for us to live in together. He’d drive me to and from class, a far better arrangement than living in a dorm. We’d grown up like two peas in a pod. He cooked for me, did my laundry, and spoiled me more than our parents ever did. Everyone joked that he was a cold-hearted CEO to the world, but a hopeless, doting slave to his little sister at home. I’d worked my ass off to get into a top university here, all for him. All so I could keep living with him. So that when a scary movie gave me nightmares, I could still crawl into his bed. But that single, cold piece of paper had shattered everything. He’d become distant, cold. I thought he was afraid I, the outsider, would fight him for the inheritance. But here he was, giving me the house. Maybe I was the one with the small heart. Later that night, while Liam was in the shower, I slipped into his bed, just like old times. The sheets smelled of sandalwood and oud, a scent that was as intoxicating and ascetic as he was. As I buried my face in his pillows, reveling in it, a flash of white caught my eye from under his pillow. I tugged at it. It was my lace-trimmed panties. My face instantly went crimson. They were the ones from the laundry—the unwashed ones. What were they doing here? Click. The bathroom door opened. I dove under the covers. Through a tiny gap, I saw him. His upper body was bare, water droplets tracing a path from his sharp jawline, over his Adam’s apple, and down to the V-cut lines of his hips. His silk pajama pants hung low, swaying as he towel-dried his hair. My eyes were involuntarily drawn to a certain… prominent area. Note to self: next time I buy him underwear, get a larger size. No wonder he never even opened the last pack I bought him. I felt a strange heat spreading through my body. It was probably just stuffy under the blankets. He finished with his hair and slid into bed. The cool, smooth feel of his skin against the sheets made a thrill run through me. Before he could react, I popped my head out from under the covers and gave him my sweetest smile. “Sophie! Get out!” His voice was louder than usual, sharp with authority. “Haven’t I told you? You are not allowed in my bed anymore!” He was yelling at me again. The unfairness of it all hit me, and my eyes welled with tears. “Why are you yelling at me? Didn’t you even think to ask why I’m here?” Seeing my tears, he faltered. “What is it? Don’t cry. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have yelled. Just… tell me what’s wrong.” Crying had always been my secret weapon against him. He couldn’t stand to see me cry. “I’m sorry, brother,” I sobbed. “I misunderstood you today. I shouldn’t have said those things.” He’d been so good to me, and I’d accused him of such petty motives. Strands of my hair fell across his cheek. He sighed, his hand lifting instinctively as if to tuck them behind my ear, but he froze mid-air. He squeezed his eyes shut, his hand balling into a fist as he fought for control, then pulled it back. We were inches apart, me propped up on my elbows over him. I saw his pupils dilate, his breathing growing ragged. “Brother,” I whispered. “Hmm?” I shifted uncomfortably. “Your… belt buckle is digging into me.” His arm shot out, clamping around my waist, pressing me down so I couldn’t move. “Don’t. Move.” “Brother, let me go, it’s uncomfortable.” “Don’t call me that.” What? So we couldn’t be real siblings, and now we couldn’t even be fake ones? Businessmen were so ruthless. Well, I wasn’t going to listen to him. “Brother, brother, brother…” I chanted, just to spite him. His Adam’s apple bobbed. His long lashes trembled with restraint. “You say that one more time, and I’ll make you regret it.” The last words were ground out between his teeth. I stuck my tongue out at him. “Brother! Brother!” “You asked for this.” Before I could react, he pulled me down hard against him. My eyes flew open. He buried his face in the crook of my neck, his damp hair brushing against my collarbone. His hot breath sent shivers down my spine. A low, guttural groan escaped his throat. A jolt of electricity shot through me, from my scalp to my toes. His knee pushed my legs apart. “Liam!” My sharp cry broke the spell. In my panic, my nails dug into his back, leaving a long, red scratch. I heard him hiss in pain. With a final, desperate shove, Liam pushed me away and practically fled into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. I lay there, staring at the ceiling, my mind a complete blank. A thin sliver of light escaped from under the bathroom door. Liam’s tall, powerful silhouette was a shadow play behind the frosted glass. He really did have an incredible body. The memory of his strength, the way he’d flipped me over so easily, made my face flush. If I hadn’t stopped him… His shadow disappeared from the door. I could faintly hear the shower turn on. And with it, other sounds. Low, ragged breaths. A desperate, choked-off groan, swallowed by the rush of water. Time ticked by. I decided I’d wait for him to come out, say goodnight, and go back to my own room. But he was in there for a long, long time. Was he okay? Was he going to pass out from the steam? “Are you ever coming out?” I called, a note of worry in my voice. Silence. Then, his voice, rough and strained. “Sophie.” “Yeah?” “Walk over to the door.” I did as he said. “Brother, are you sure you’re okay?” My reflection stared back at me from the steamy glass. I couldn’t see a thing inside. “Good. Stop right there. Don’t move.” His voice was getting hoarse, his breathing heavier, faster. It culminated in a single, controlled roar. And then, silence. That night, I had a dream. I dreamed I was in the shower with him. The water cascaded down as he looked down at me, coaxing me to open my mouth. I refused. The next thing I knew, his hand was cupping my jaw, forcing my mouth open, wider and wider. He covered my eyes. I couldn’t see, but my other senses were on fire. I heard the rustle of fabric, and then a column of fire was thrust into my mouth. It wasn’t his usual cold arrogance; this was molten lava flowing beneath a sheet of ice. My mouth was full. I couldn’t speak, only struggle against the burning sensation. When it was over, he finally pulled back, removing his hand from my eyes. The next morning, I woke up with a faint, sticky-white residue at the corner of my mouth. I must have been drooling in my sleep again. My mom showed up that morning, a welcome surprise. She came once a month with homemade strawberry jam and kimchi, and always ended up cleaning the whole house for us. This time, she’d also brought a dress. A butterfly-backless dress. “I saw this in the store and thought of you immediately,” she said, her eyes shining. “I told your father, our Sophie will look absolutely stunning in this.” I held it up against myself, hesitant. “It’s beautiful, Mom, but isn’t it a little… revealing? I’ve never even worn a skirt above the knee.” It was so short, I’d flash everyone if I bent over. “Oh, it’s a little sexy,” she admitted, “but you’re a college girl now! You can’t live in t-shirts and jeans forever. You should try different styles!” “But…” Just then, Liam walked out of his room. My mom immediately grabbed him. “Liam, look! Isn’t this dress perfect for your sister?” He glanced at the dress, then at me, his expression unreadable. “It’s fine,” he mumbled. My mom beamed. “You should wear this for your date with Sander this weekend! The Kensingtons just adore you. Mrs. Kensington was just telling me…” Sander was Liam’s best friend and the heir to the Kensington Group. He’d provided the start-up capital for Liam’s company. My parents had always hoped we’d get together; the alliance would be good for Liam’s business. “It’s ugly,” Liam cut in from the breakfast table. “The dress is ugly, and she’ll look even uglier in it.” “Hey! Don’t talk about your sister that way.” “She’s not my sister,” he said, his voice flat. “Liam!” My mother’s voice shot up an octave. The atmosphere in the room turned heavy. She stared him down, furious. I looked down, fiddling with the hem of my shirt. Seeing my eyes well up, my mom softened, stroking my cheek before turning back to Liam. “You say that again, and you’re no son of mine. As long as your father and I are alive, Sophie will always be your sister.” “Oh my god, Sander Kensington is going to lose his mind,” my cousin Chloe said, giddy, after I filled her in. She was inspecting the dress in my closet. “Please,” I scoffed. “A guy like that has seen it all.” “Nuh-uh,” she said, wagging a finger. “The way he looks at you? So tender. You’re totally his type.” Chloe had become something of a love expert since starting college. “He doesn’t look at me like that. His look is… predatory. Like he wants to eat me alive. Actually,” she mused, “it’s the same way Liam looks at you!” I nearly choked on my water. “You can’t just say things like that!” “Fine, don’t believe me.” She fiddled with a charm on my backpack. “The Dragon Boat Festival is coming up. Any plans?” “Liam’s teaching me how to make sweet rice dumplings. He’s got everything ready, I just need to prepare the mugwort.” Her eyes lit up, and she leaned in conspiratorially. “Ooh, he wants you to prepare the mugwort, does he?” She put a suggestive emphasis on the word. “Huh?” “Liam works out all the time, he must be in great shape. Can your little body handle it?” It clicked. “Oh my god, you have a one-track mind! He’s my brother!” “Not by blood!” she sing-songed, leaning closer. “Don’t you think the pseudo-incest thing is way hotter?” “You’re impossible.”

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My handsome, rich boyfriend is mute—and I’m sure he doesn’t love me. He won’t speak or kiss me properly, and when I tease him in bed, he still refuses. Worse, he locks me in the basement monthly like a dark secret. Everything clicked when I heard a woman’s scream from his room, followed by violent slamming. I cried, then decided to leave. But stepping outside, the manor turned horrifying. Then, live comments appeared: 【Newbie in an SSS-rank instance?!】 【Why’s Bloody Mary chasing you?!】 【Alistair, stop twisting your OWN head!】 【Main BOSS ahead—she’s dead.】 I called Silas’s name—he sprouted wings and fled. 【BOSS just ran from a newbie?】 【Time for bed.】 1 After pinning Silas to the bed yet again, I swore to myself that this time, I would finally have him. I’d superglued the lock. I’d nailed the windows shut. I’d even reinforced the floorboards. I couldn’t imagine how he could possibly escape my grasp tonight. Silas propped himself up on his elbows, his usually immaculate black shirt now ripped open at the collar from my efforts. I impatiently bit down on his collarbone. His long lashes fluttered, and a deep blush crept across his face. “Please?” I whined, my voice syrupy sweet. “I promise I’ll be quick. Just once, I won’t be greedy!” Outside the door, the eavesdropping butler and head housekeeper let out a synchronized, thunderous cough. The sound jolted Silas from his haze of desire. Gently but firmly, he pushed me away, shaking his head to stop my advances. I was genuinely starting to get angry. “Silas, be honest with me,” I snapped. “Is it that you… you can’t?” He froze, a flicker of hurt and unspeakable grievance shimmering in his emerald-green eyes. With practiced ease, the butler burst through the door. “Miss Zoe, the staff have found signs of an intruder—an assassin. For your safety, would you mind spending the night in the safe room?” Again? This was the fifth time this month! Did these people think our home was some kind of tourist attraction? Alistair, the butler, had once explained that ever since Silas inherited his fortune and this manor from his scumbag father, his illegitimate half-brothers had been sending assassins every month to try and take him out. What was this, the Middle Ages? Well, obviously not. Silas was mixed-race, with sharp, sculpted features, porcelain skin, and a lean, powerful physique that was all muscle without being bulky. He’d captivated me from the very first glance. From what I could piece together, I’d been hiking, taken a fall, and they’d rescued me. The bad news: I had amnesia. The even worse news: after checking my phone, I discovered I was an orphan with no family to worry about me. And after a series of suspiciously convenient mishaps—my car breaking down, a sudden storm stranding my boat, a helicopter malfunction—I realized the universe was practically screaming at me to seize this opportunity. So, I stayed, my conscience perfectly clear. Silas couldn’t speak, but he had an incredible way of remembering my every whim. One day, I was looking at an illustration in a book and sighed, “How wonderful would it be to wake up to a sea of flowers every day?” The next morning, I opened my bedroom window, and the sprawling green lawn had been transformed overnight into a breathtaking expanse of crimson roses. The butler and the head housekeeper, Mrs. Gable, always watched me with warm, kind eyes. “Miss Zoe,” Alistair would say, “it’s been a very long time since the Master has smiled so happily.” “How long?” I’d asked. “Oh, several centuries, at least—” he’d begun with a chuckle. Mrs. Gable had swiftly clapped a hand over his mouth. “A figure of speech, my dear. Pay him no mind.” Silas gave me everything I could ever ask for, yet we rarely touched. We’d been together for a year, and he still wouldn’t take our relationship to the next level. Then again, I was the one who had relentlessly pursued him. Maybe he just didn’t like me that much. 2 Frustrated, I followed Alistair down to the basement. Silas had converted it into a massive home theater, fully stocked with everything you could want for entertainment, food, and drink. As Alistair watched, I sullenly put on a pair of headphones. “Do I really have to wear these? I’m not as fragile as you think. I’m not scared.” He adjusted his glasses, his smile gentle. “It can be quite terrifying, miss. The Master’s orders were absolute: you are not to be frightened.” “Fine.” “Don’t you worry,” he added. “Midnight will keep you company.” Midnight was a sleek black cat with a glossy coat who was incredibly affectionate with me. He was so smart that sometimes I got the eerie feeling he could understand human speech. Once Alistair left, I put on a horror movie, just like I always did. Midnight, curled up on my lap, was purring and yawning, fighting to stay awake for me. “Go on, go to sleep,” I whispered, stroking him and moving him to the cushion beside me. “I’ll play with the feather wand with you later.” He seemed especially tired today. With a soft meow, he was fast asleep. I was munching on chips and watching the movie when I reached for my drink and knocked the glass over. As I scrambled to clean up the mess, my headphones snagged on the corner of the table and slipped off. That’s when I heard it. A violent slamming sound from directly above. I froze. That was Silas’s bedroom! Was the fight really that intense? A surge of worry was immediately cut short by a woman’s high-pitched moan. Wait… do assassins make noises like that? It was followed by another round of rhythmic pounding, so forceful it felt like it was about to break through the thick floor. My mind instantly flooded with every cliché story about first loves and stand-in lovers. I cried for as long as the sounds from upstairs continued. I didn’t even dare to make a sound myself, afraid of waking Midnight. The fact that he slept through such a racket meant he must be used to it. Maybe the whole “assassin attack” story was a lie. After all, I’d never seen a single one. No wonder Silas wouldn’t get close to me. No wonder he had to hide me away. I was just his secret lover, a substitute for someone else, not even worthy of his touch. Sob. 3 I decided to end it. Alistair had locked the door, but he never would have guessed that I had a hidden key to open it from the inside. Choking back sobs, I walked up the stairs and stopped dead, rubbing my tear-blurred eyes. The manor, usually bathed in warm light, was plunged into darkness. I fumbled my way to the utility closet and found a flashlight. When I switched it on, the lavish, exquisite decor was gone. In its place was a scene of dilapidated decay, thick with a sinister chill. The peeling walls were smeared with one horrifying, bloody handprint after another, as if someone had been dragged away screaming. So there were signs of a fight. Maybe Silas wasn’t lying? Just as I was about to step forward, a series of glowing comments materialized in the air before me: 【Huh? A newbie? How is she still alive?】 【Hold on, did this new player break a cosmic law or something? How did she land in an SSS-rank instance on her first run?】 【It’s over, it’s over! The Head Housekeeper smelled her. This is too scary, I can’t watch!】 【She’s dead meat!】 The next second, the lights flickered on with a loud snap. Hiding behind a dusty shelf, I felt completely bewildered. The Head Housekeeper… did they mean the one I knew? “Hee hee, found you! Are you ready for me?” The voice had lost its usual steady tone, replaced by something… sleazy. But it was definitely her. I stepped out from my hiding spot. “Mrs. Gable, it’s me.” As the words left my mouth, we both froze. Her uniform was in tatters, she was holding a bloody axe, and her smile was literally stretched from ear to ear. I was horrified. “Who did this to you?” Mrs. Gable’s pupils constricted to pinpricks. Her hand trembled, and she dropped the axe with a clatter. “Miss Zoe, I… I…” Seeing her speechless, I started to walk toward her. But she let out a piercing shriek and, to my astonishment, turned and ran. 【???】 【Wait, Bloody Mary, the Head Housekeeper with the axe… why are you running from her?!】 【What happened to your ‘chop them in half’ power move? Who’s the real NPC here?!】 NPC? What was an NPC? I was about to follow her to get some answers when I heard another familiar voice from around the corner. “So, you managed to defeat the Head Housekeeper. You must have some fight in you. Your head will make a fine addition to my collection. Excited?” A dark shadow lunged toward me. I aimed the flashlight beam up from under my chin. “Alistair, it’s me.” He skidded to a halt right in front of me. His face, a ghastly shade of blue-black, turned pale with shock. I could even see beads of sweat on his forehead. My gaze dropped to his hand, where he was holding a freshly severed head. 【This is it! Go, Alistair, go!】 【She’s a goner now. The Butler doesn’t show mercy, hahaha.】 【Aren’t you the one who loves twisting people’s heads off for your collection? Get her! Wait… not your own head!!】 【Where did this newbie come from? Is she hacking or something???】 He twisted his own head off. I was so stunned that I rubbed my eyes. In that brief moment, he vanished, running for his life. Seriously? All I wanted to know was where Silas was! 4 I made my way toward Silas’s room. Creeeak— The sound of an old wooden door being pushed open by the wind echoed down the hall. The corridor was deathly silent, shrouded in an invisible gloom. 【THE BOSS IS HERE!!!】 I stared at the back of the figure—a figure I knew better than my own—and pondered for a moment. Learning from my previous encounters, I decided to approach without saying a word, lest I scare him off too. I took one step after another. The live comments were baffled. 【This newbie has some serious guts, walking right up to her own death.】 【My cringe-o-meter is off the charts. Her ancestors could kowtow until their heads bleed and they still couldn’t save her now.】 【I’m just here to see how she dies.】 【Hehe, this is gonna be good. Grab your popcorn, everyone!】 An aura of cold, ominous power radiated from Silas. I darted forward and grabbed his arm. “Silas, it’s me!” His body shuddered, turning as rigid as a statue. I lifted his hand. “Since when did you get your nails done?” WHOOSH— A pair of enormous black wings erupted from his back, the force of their unfurling making me shut my eyes. He used that moment to break free, stumbling as he launched himself out the window and into the night. The live comments froze for a second— 【Wow. Just… wow. Absolutely breathtaking.】 【Dude, what the…】 【LOL, the main BOSS just ran for his life from a new player. I think that’s my cue to go to bed.】 I stood there, dumbfounded. “Silas, you get back here!” Even an idiot would have figured out something was wrong by now. But I didn’t care! It wasn’t like he’d done anything morally bankrupt. He just wasn’t human. So what? I chased him down the stairs, only to be pulled into a room by a handsome man. He cupped my face in his hands, his expression ecstatic, as if gazing upon a long-lost treasure. “Zoe, it’s really you! Where have you been these past two years?” Uh, who are you? I tried to push his hands away, but he pulled me into a tight embrace. “As long as you’re alive, that’s all that matters. I’ll never leave you again.” The moment he finished speaking, an icy chill crept up my spine. The very walls and floor began to frost over. 【Holy crap, this is the first time I’ve ever seen the main BOSS get angry!】 5 My eyes were covered as I was led back to Silas’s room. Candles and incense were lit, and the familiar scent of roses filled the air. But all I could see was darkness. He had blindfolded me with a silk ribbon. And chained my hands and feet. These were the props I had planned to use on him! I was not happy. “Silas, I begged you to play these games with me before, and you refused! Now, just because of some strange man, you do this to me? I’m angry!” I huffed. “Was he the one you were really in love with all along?!” That made sense. Who said your one true love had to be a woman? The air went dead silent. Even blindfolded, I could feel the profound silence from both Silas and the live comments. I struggled against my restraints, but a grape-flavored candy was suddenly popped into my mouth. My favorite. I chewed thoughtfully, decided to forgive him for now, and waited with sneaky anticipation for what would happen next. And then… Nothing happened. Because Silas had used the opportunity to run away. Again. “Hey!” “Silas, get back here!” “Alistair!!! Mrs. Gable!!!” … After what felt like an eternity of shouting, the door creaked open. The sound of light footsteps approached me. “Shh, Zoe, don’t make a sound. It’s me.” I fell silent. His voice was laced with deep anger and sorrow. “I’ve been looking for you for so long. I never imagined you’d be imprisoned here by this demon.” He vowed, “Don’t worry, I’ll kill him and get you out of here!” He removed the blindfold. When his eyes met my blank, unfamiliar gaze, his expression faltered. “Zoe… you don’t remember me?” I nodded. “I have amnesia. I’ve forgotten everything. Who are you?” Hearing about my memory loss, he seemed to relax. “My name is Leo. We grew up together in an orphanage, we were all each other had. If things hadn’t gone wrong, we’d be married by now.” Lies. My phone wasn’t broken. According to my chat history, Leo had latched onto some wealthy heiress. He had repeatedly told me he only saw me as a sister and had warned me multiple times to get rid of any other ideas, all for her sake. I lowered my eyes. “Really?” Leo’s gaze fell to a bruise on my knee. His pupils contracted, and he gritted his teeth, looking away. “I’ll make the demon who hurt you suffer a very painful death!” Hurt me? I looked down. Oh, that was from when I’d accidentally bumped into a table. Leo produced a dagger carved from bone. “This is the only weapon that can kill Silas, the BOSS of this manor instance.” He pleaded, “Zoe, I need your help.” The live comments erupted. 【Holy shit, this player got insanely lucky! He found the ‘Matriarch’s Fang’! Is someone finally going to clear this instance?!】 【Legend says it was forged from the bones of Silas’s mother. Since Silas was born from pure malice, only this dagger can destroy him for good.】 【This Leo guy is insane. If he kills Silas, he’ll have enough points to top the player leaderboard!】 【The birth of a god-tier player! This is gonna be epic!!!】

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The intern was being rough on purpose, making my wife cry out just so I could hear. The next day, he swaggered out of the room next door, a constellation of hickies on his neck, and smirked at me. “So what if Aurora legally married you, Ian?” he taunted. “She’s still having a wedding with me, isn’t she?” He leaned in, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Oh, and I recorded it last night. Want me to send you a copy?” I stared at him for a beat, then a slow smile spread across my face. “Here’s the difference between you and me,” I said. “I’m not into sloppy seconds.” The intern choked, his face flushing with anger before he stormed off. Moments later, Aurora burst in, her face a mask of fury. “I told you the wedding was fake! What the hell are you saying?” she seethed. “Now look what you’ve done. Nicholas’s having a depressive episode, threatening to cut his wrists. Are you happy now?” Her voice was sharp, a weapon. “You will record a video apology. Right now. Post it on your feed, and once he forgives you, then maybe I’ll consider giving you a proper wedding.” A bitter laugh escaped my lips. “Forget it. Let’s just get a divorce.” 1 “A divorce?” Aurora looked at me as if I’d just told the funniest joke in the world, one eyebrow arched in disbelief. “Drank a little too much champagne today, Ian? Did it fry your brain?” Her eyes raked over me, dripping with a contempt she didn’t bother to hide. “Let’s get one thing straight. Without the halo of ‘Aura & Associates,’ what is the name ‘Ian’ even worth in this city?” She took a step closer. “Who gave you the platform? Who gave you the chance to climb this high? Have you forgotten?” she sneered. “Without the ‘Aura’ brand, without the resources I handed you, you’d probably still be a glorified paralegal at some back-alley firm, chasing down pennies for chump change cases!” My hands, hanging at my sides, clenched into fists, the knuckles turning bone-white. Who gave me the platform? Right. As if my sacrifices meant nothing. The seed money for the firm? I mortgaged everything I owned. Those impossible, top-tier clients? I landed them, one by one, through sheer grit. The landmark cases that defined our firm’s reputation? I led the team, bled for them through sleepless nights and endless days. That plaque on the wall, the one naming us one of the ‘Top Ten Law Firms in the Nation’—I built that with my own sweat and blood. And now she was saying I was just riding her coattails? A white-hot rage shot through me, so intense it twisted into a grim smile. “So you and Nicholas get to play Romeo and Juliet on stage, and I don’t even have the right to ask for a divorce?” “Shut up!” Aurora’s voice cracked like a whip. “Nicholas’s family was trying to set him up with a woman in her fifties. I was helping him out of a jam. Do you have any idea how social obligations work?” “And now you’ve pushed him to the edge! If anything happens to him, can you bear that responsibility?” What had I done? Even a genuine depressive episode didn’t work like this. Looking at the face I once loved, all I felt was a bone-deep weariness, a cold, crushing sense of absurdity. “Is he really that fragile?” I asked, my voice flat. The whole performance was so clumsy, anyone with eyes could see through it. But Aurora was a true believer. “Drop the sarcastic act, Ian,” she said, her eyes like chips of ice. “I’m warning you. If Nicholas suffers any real harm, I swear I’ll call the cops. Verbal abuse, emotional distress, defamation—go ahead and try me. See how well your career holds up after that.” The cops. Ha. The bitter taste of ash filled my mouth. In her eyes, I was worth less than a stray dog on the street. She took a deep breath, visibly forcing her anger down, and issued her final command. “Right now. This instant. Record a sincere apology. Post it to your social media so everyone can see you mean it.” She paused, as if bestowing upon me a great mercy. “Once he’s calmed down and he’s willing to accept your apology… I’ll consider arranging an even grander ceremony to make it up to you.” A grander ceremony. That phrase had been a siren song, a curse that had haunted me for eight years. When the firm is stable… she’d said when we started. After we land this big project… she’d promised later. Once we make the Top Ten list… I waited and waited, only to watch her stand in the spotlight with another man on her arm. And now, she expected me to keep waiting, like a beggar hoping for scraps. The toxic resentment I’d swallowed for eight years finally detonated in my chest, the force of it stealing my breath. I was so tired. Done waiting. “An apology?” A humorless smile touched my lips, my voice clear and cold as a winter morning. “Maybe in the next life.” Without a second glance at her stunned face, I turned on my heel and walked away. “Ian! You get back here!” she shrieked behind me. I didn’t hear her. My steps never faltered. The moment I stepped out of the hotel, the cold wind hit me like a slap. As I walked toward the parking lot, a figure darted out from the shadows. “Mr. Archer! Finally caught you!” It was Mark, an assistant, panting as he shoved a heavy document box into my arms. “Here. The ‘Skyreach Merger’ case! Ms. Rose just gave the order. She said you’re to take full responsibility. The first draft of the legal opinion is due by midnight. The client is waiting.” I steadied the box, my brow furrowing. “Isn’t this Nicholas’s case? Why are you giving it to me?” Mark smirked, his tone dripping with disdain. “Nicholas? Please. He’s busy playing the ‘newlywed.’ He doesn’t have time for a ten-billion-dollar grind like this. Ms. Rose said she needed a ‘workhorse’ like you to step up.” He emphasized the word “workhorse,” his eyes flicking over me. “Her exact words were, ‘Have Ian handle it immediately.’” Looking at his smug face, I almost laughed. Skyreach. The beast of a case I’d spent six months wrestling to the ground, the one that gave me a bleeding ulcer but ultimately secured our spot at the top. The crown jewel. Nicholas had idly mentioned he wanted to “give it a try,” and Aurora had just handed it over. A goddamn intern who couldn’t even write a proper due diligence report was suddenly capable of handling a multi-billion-dollar merger. And now, they wanted to toss it back to me? Newlywed? What a fucking joke. “She told me to take it, so I have to take it?” I slammed the box back into his chest, my voice hard as steel. “You go tell Aurora that I am not touching this case.” Mark stumbled back, his face twisting in fury. “Mr. Archer! Don’t be ungrateful…” “You’re the one who doesn’t know his place!” All the pent-up rage erupted at once. I swung my arm, sending the box—the culmination of countless hours of my life—flying. A snowstorm of papers exploded into the night, dancing madly in the wind. Mark leaped back, his finger pointing at me, trembling. “Ian! You… you’re insane! Are you trying to get blacklisted?!” I gave him a chilling smile. “This place? I’ve been done with it for a long time.” Without another glance, I wrenched my car door open. The engine roared to life, tearing a hole in the night’s silence. Back at the cold, empty apartment. I didn’t bother with the lights, letting the neon glow from the city outside illuminate the space as I packed my last few things. Clothes, books, personal effects… everything I owned here fit into a single suitcase. The doorbell buzzed, sharp and sudden. It was a courier. “Urgent delivery for Ms. Aurora Rose. Sign here.” The delivery guy handed me a thin paper mailer and was gone. The address was right, the recipient was Aurora. But what was inside? A knot of dread tightened in my gut. I tore open the seal. My mind went blank. The blood in my veins turned to ice. Inside the bag were several boxes of ultra-thin, imported condoms and a piece of black lace lingerie so sheer it was practically transparent. It lay there, a stark, damning piece of evidence. “Ha…” A broken, dry laugh forced its way out of my throat. Just this morning, it was a “fake wedding.” Tonight, they were already stocking up for their honeymoon. The last, dying ember of hope in my heart was finally extinguished. I crushed the bag in my fist, the plastic groaning under the pressure. My phone screen lit up, Aurora’s name flashing frantically. I stared at the blinding light for a few seconds before swiping to answer, my movements stiff and robotic. Her shrill voice stabbed through the receiver. “Ian! How dare you throw the Skyreach files?! Are you looking for a fight?!” “The legal opinion better be in my inbox by midnight! Do you understand me?” She spoke with such entitlement, as if the drama from earlier had never happened. The sheer absurdity of it made my temples throb. “Why should I?” “Because I am the founding partner! And I am your wife!” Her voice shot up, the rage practically melting the phone. “Getting bold, are we, Ian? You think you can defy me?” “You want to see what happens? I’ll call a partners’ meeting tomorrow and have you demoted from senior partner to intern assistant! See how you like that!” “Hah.” Eight years of my life, my soul poured into this firm, and my name wasn’t even on the goddamn letterhead. All I got was the hollow title of “senior partner.” What a fucking joke.

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Out of state closing a deal, I got a text: “Mr. Coleman, your Patek Philippe is ready.” Attached was a photo of a $5M watch. “Wrong number,” I replied. “No mistake,” they insisted. “Your wife ordered it.” The invoice showed Isabelle’s payment, but the recipient’s name was smudged. Before I could ask more, the messages vanished. “Apologies, wrong person,” came a new text. The next day, I saw that watch on my wife’s assistant’s wrist. “A bonus for his hard work,” she shrugged. I laughed coldly, had security trash it. “What ‘work’ earns $5M?” I asked. “Sleeping with the boss?” 1 “Grant, what the hell are you talking about?!” “There is nothing going on between us! Stop making these baseless accusations!” Isabelle’s voice was a furious shriek as she stormed toward me. I curled my lip into a sneer. “Nothing going on?” My voice was pure ice. “You give a brand-new intern a five-million-dollar watch, and you expect me to believe you’re ‘just friends’?” “Isabelle, do you take me for a fool?” I gave her a look of utter contempt before my gaze shifted to the boy cowering behind her, Leo. A raw, red mark now circled his wrist where the watch had been. His eyes were wide and shimmering with unshed tears. I let out another humorless laugh. “Such a big man, and so very delicate. Is this the same pathetic act you used to convince my wife to buy you a five-million-dollar toy?” Isabelle’s face darkened. “Grant, watch your tone!” Leo immediately tugged on her sleeve, then turned to me, adopting a posture of respectful terror. “Mr. Coleman, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean for this to happen. I… I honestly had no idea the watch was so valuable.” I smiled at him, but the smile didn’t reach my eyes. “You didn’t know?” I purred. “As I recall, our company just completed a major partnership with Patek Philippe in the first half of this year. As Ms. Coleman’s lead assistant, you’re telling me you were unaware of such a critical piece of company business? That’s not just ignorance; it’s incompetence.” My voice hardened. “And if you’re that incompetent, you’re of no use to me.” I pulled out my phone and dialed the head of HR. “Fire Leo. I want him gone by the end of the day.” The color drained from Leo’s face. The pitiful act vanished, replaced by sheer panic. He rushed forward, his voice cracking. “Mr. Coleman, I was wrong! I know I was wrong! Please, don’t fire me! I’ll never do it again!” Tears streamed down his cheeks. “My parents are both sick. They’re depending on my salary for their medical bills. I can’t lose this job!” With a thud, he dropped to his knees and began bowing his head to the floor. Isabelle couldn’t stand it. She hauled him to his feet and shoved him behind her, shielding him with her own body. She glared at me, her eyes blazing. “I’m the one who gave him the watch! It has nothing to do with him! Grant, if you have a problem, you take it up with me. Don’t you dare bully a new employee!” Seeing her protect him like a lioness defending her cub, I felt a bitter, ironic twist in my gut. “So quick to defend your little boy toy?” Before she could answer, my hand shot out. Crack. The sharp sound of my palm connecting with her cheek echoed in the silent office. She stared at me, stunned, her hand flying to her face. “How dare you hit me?” My eyes were cold steel. “A slap is the least you deserve. I’m out there breaking my back to expand this company, and you’re in here carrying on an affair with your assistant?” She clutched her cheek, her voice desperate. “The watch was a misunderstanding! I’m a woman; I don’t know much about these things. I just wanted to get him a bonus and asked the boutique to pick something out. They must have thought I was buying for you and chose something so expensive!” I cut through her pathetic excuse. “I don’t care about your convoluted lies. Leo is fired. That’s final.” I took a step closer, my voice dropping to a low, final command. “And effective immediately, every supplementary card under your name is suspended. From now on, every single cent you spend will require my personal approval.” Isabelle trembled with rage, but she couldn’t say a word. She shot me a look of pure hatred before spinning on her heel and storming out, her precious, sniveling Leo in tow. 2 After that day, a wall of ice formed between Isabelle and me. She didn’t come home for a week. Where she went, who she saw—I didn’t care to know. My entire focus was on the Apex Industries partnership. Their team felt our last proposal wasn’t quite there. Determined to perfect it, I lived at the office for a week straight. Finally, my team and I crafted a flawless proposal, one they couldn’t possibly refuse. This deal was the lifeblood of our company for the next two quarters. I spent three full days preparing for the signing ceremony. But when I walked into the conference room with my team, I saw them. Isabelle and Leo. They were laughing and chatting with Mr. Harrison, the CEO of Apex. Isabelle raised an eyebrow at me, a smug, triumphant smile on her face. “What took you so long? The contract is already signed. You can take your people and go home.” A roar filled my ears. I turned to Mr. Harrison. “Sir, what’s going on? We were scheduled to sign today at ten.” My voice was tight. “I wasn’t even here. What contract did you sign? And more importantly, Leo has been fired. He has no authority to represent our company!” Isabelle cut me off. “I never approved Leo’s termination, Grant. Your verbal dismissal doesn’t count.” Her smile widened. “Besides, he’s now the top performer on the team. Who would dare fire him?” Mr. Harrison frowned at me, his tone laced with confusion. “Mr. Coleman, I should be asking you what’s going on. Why would you fire an outstanding employee like Leo? The young man is talented, diligent, and hardworking. He’s been staying late every night to get this project over the line.” His voice grew heavier. “As a leader, you can’t just steal the credit for a young person’s work.” The sheer absurdity of it all made my head spin. “Mr. Harrison, you must be mistaken. I was the one working late. My team and I were the ones coordinating with your people every single day.” But he shook his head firmly. “No, Mr. Coleman. You were merely the intermediary. The person doing the real work behind the scenes was Mr. Leo.” He pushed a signed contract across the table. I flipped it open. Every detail, every clause, every projection—it was identical to my proposal. My head snapped up, my eyes locking onto Leo. “How did you get your hands on my project files?” Leo’s eyes immediately reddened. “Mr. Coleman,” he whimpered, “I… I made this proposal myself. Why wouldn’t it be in my hands?” Isabelle instantly moved to his side, shielding him. “I can vouch for him. Leo did all the work himself. Grant, stop trying to take credit for what isn’t yours.” As she spoke, a flicker of guilt crossed her eyes, but it was gone in an instant. I understood everything. She would stop at nothing to keep Leo by her side. I didn’t know how she’d done it—perhaps a mole on my team—but right now, I had to prove the truth. I took a deep breath, forcing myself to remain calm. “I don’t steal credit from anyone. Because I have a complete record of all my work.” I signaled for my assistant to bring my laptop. But before he could, Leo plugged his own device into the projector. “Mr. Harrison, everyone, here are all the records I kept while creating this proposal.” On the screen, my source files, my edit history, my entire digital trail appeared. A cold dread washed over me. I opened my own laptop. Every related folder was empty. The source files had been wiped. I was shaking with rage. I pointed at Leo. “What did you do to my computer?” He flinched, shrinking behind Isabelle and starting to sob. “Mr. Coleman, please, just leave me alone. I really did do all this myself. If you want it, I can give it to you, but please, don’t fire me. I’ve worked so hard for this job…” His crying drew the attention of people outside the conference room. Whispers and pointed fingers followed. I ignored them and quickly logged into my cloud account. The access logs showed a login from an unrecognized device just thirty minutes prior. There was only one other person who knew the password to that account. Isabelle. I lifted my head and stared at her, my eyes burning holes into her. She couldn’t meet my gaze. A volcano of fury erupted in my chest. Crack! I lunged across the room and slapped her again, harder this time. “You shameless bitch!” I roared. “You stole my work just to protect your little lapdog!” She clutched her face, denying everything. “What are you talking about?!” Leo fanned the flames, his voice thick with fake tears. “Mr. Coleman, please don’t be angry with Ms. Coleman. It’s all my fault. I… I’ll just give the project to you, okay?” He picked up the contract and tried to shove it into my hands. Mr. Harrison had seen enough. He blocked Leo’s path and pointed a trembling finger at me, his face a mask of disgust. “I was wrong about you, Grant Coleman,” he spat. “Let me make one thing clear: I am signing this contract with Mr. Leo, and no one else! Security! Get this man out of my building!” Guards rushed in and dragged me out of the room. I went home and collapsed onto the sofa, a fire of rage and betrayal scorching my insides. I picked up my phone, ready to call my assistant and launch a crisis PR campaign, when a notification flashed across the screen. A trending news headline. Corporate CEO Grant Coleman Bullies New Employee in Vicious Power Play I clicked on it. The video from the signing had been edited into a masterpiece of manipulative fiction. In the clip, I was a snarling aggressor, while Leo was a weeping victim, looking as if he might shatter into a million pieces. The headline was pure bait: The Unfeeling Capitalist vs. The Helpless Worker: A Modern Tragedy. The comment section was a cesspool. [This Grant guy looks polished, but he’s pure evil.] [My heart breaks for Leo. Poor thing. All capitalists are scum!] [Stealing someone’s work and then acting all high and mighty about it? Unbelievable.] Just then, another notification appeared. A live broadcast from my company’s official account. It was Isabelle. On screen, she looked exhausted and burdened, with dark circles artfully smudged under her eyes. “Hello, everyone. My name is Isabelle Coleman. Regarding the events of this afternoon, I want to apologize on behalf of my husband, Grant.” Her voice was heavy with sorrow. “Grant has been under immense pressure lately, and his mental state has been… unstable. That’s why he acted out. I have placed him on an indefinite leave of absence from all his duties at the company so he can focus on his health. I hope that his personal issues won’t affect your opinion of our company.” I was trembling, my blood boiling. I dialed her number. On the live feed, I saw her glance at her phone, an expression of weary resignation on her face. Then, in front of hundreds of thousands of viewers, she declined my call. And turned her phone off. The chat exploded. “OMG, Isabelle is a saint. Her husband is a monster and she’s still protecting him.” “She married such a narcissistic asshole. What terrible luck.” “Poor Isabelle, having to deal with a crazy husband and save her company at the same time.” With one broadcast, she had successfully crucified me. Fine. Just fine. I laughed, a raw, humorless sound, and opened my own social media account to go live and tell the truth. Password incorrect. I tried every password I’d ever used. All wrong. I went through the recovery process, and the moment I logged in, my inbox was flooded with thousands of hate-filled, threatening messages. I ignored them and hit the ‘Go Live’ button. The camera activated. Before I could say a single word, a black screen appeared. “Your account has been suspended for violating platform community guidelines.” The screen went dark. I grabbed my car keys and stormed out of the house. The company building was lit up like a beacon. I kicked open the door to her office. She was sitting behind her desk, watching me with a calm, triumphant smile. “Isabelle, do you really think my parents won’t make you pay for this?” She laughed softly and walked toward me. “Grant, your parents are halfway across the world. By the time they hear about this, it will be old news.” Her eyes were cold, filled with contempt. “Besides, I’m sure that when they find out, they’ll understand my actions. It’s high time someone taught you to control that spoiled rich-boy temper of yours.” She had the audacity to act like she was doing me a favor. “Think of this as a small lesson. Once the storm passes, I’ll let you come back.” She sighed, her face a mask of false sincerity. “I didn’t want to do this, but Grant, you were being too cruel. I can handle being hurt, but Leo has done nothing to you. You can’t take your anger out on him. You have no idea how brilliant he is. You’re just too prejudiced, too impulsive.” Her words were so absurd they were almost comical. I looked her up and down, a cold smile playing on my lips. “Oh, please, Isabelle. He’s a fresh college graduate. Are you really interested in his ‘brilliance,’ or is it something else? You know the truth.” My voice dropped, filled with disgust. “I must have been blind to ever marry a venomous snake like you.” Another word would have been a waste of breath. I couldn’t stand the sight of her sickeningly false face for another second. I turned and walked away.

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Every single boyfriend I’ve ever had has been stolen by my best friend. And she always caps it off with the same smug little line: “If he can be stolen, he wasn’t worth keeping.” So, in a fit of rage, I found the ugliest, trashiest scumbag I could. That night, she showed up at my door, reeking of booze, a sneer on her face. “You’re really getting desperate, aren’t you? You’d even stoop to that kind of trash!” But as she spoke, tears started rolling down her cheeks. “You’d rather have him… than have me.” 1 The moment I told Sloane I had a new boyfriend, she did exactly what I knew she would. She showed up in a killer outfit, all tight fabric and strategic cutouts. A sliver of her toned stomach was visible above the waistband of a micro-miniskirt that showcased a pair of long, pin-straight legs. She sauntered toward me, but when her eyes landed on the man standing by my side, Ethan, her confident smile froze solid. “You’re telling me this is your boyfriend?” Before I could answer, Ethan blew a gasket. “What the hell is that supposed to mean? Rachel and I like each other, so yeah, I’m her boyfriend! Let me tell you, if it wasn’t for her, I wouldn’t even be wasting my time meeting you.” Underneath a disastrous explosion of bleached hair, his narrow eyes bulged with indignation. His skin had a sallow, unhealthy tint, and his leg bounced restlessly as he spoke. He was the perfect picture of a street-corner sleazeball. “Rachel,” Sloane said, her voice dripping with disdain, “you’ve really outdone yourself.” Seeing the disgust in her eyes didn’t hurt at all. In fact, it was thrilling. This was the first time I’d ever seen her look so completely thrown. The last time, when I was dating a slick corporate shark, she’d claimed she was just “testing his loyalty for me.” The next day, they were Instagram official. I was seething, but she just gave me that infuriatingly charming smile and said, “If he can be stolen, he wasn’t worth keeping.” Then there was the pretty-boy actor I dated. For him, she didn’t even bother with a pretense. She just showed up to his set looking like a supermodel and walked away with him. The actor broke up with me in a flood of tears, and when I furiously jumped on Sloane’s back and tried to bite her, she just calmly lectured me. “If he falls for a little temptation like that, he’s not worth your time anyway.” After that, I got smarter. I screened my boyfriends meticulously—career, looks, character. I even tried to keep them a secret from Sloane. But it never worked. She always managed to steal them, and then she’d have the audacity to lecture me about it. “Oh, my sweet Rachel,” she’d say, “compared to those snakes, you’re just a babe in the woods. How could I ever trust them with you? I’m just taking one for the team.” I racked my brain, trying to figure out a way to finally beat her at her own game. And then, I met Ethan. The second I saw him, I knew. This time, I was going to win. 2 Even after we sat down in the cafe, Sloane’s face was a thundercloud. I’d never seen her like this. While a part of me was secretly giddy, I slid the menu over to her. She didn’t even glance at it, just snapped at the waiter, “Iced black coffee. Extra ice.” Ethan, completely oblivious, slung an arm around my shoulders and pulled the menu toward him. “Babe, whatever you want, I’ll get it for you.” Watching Sloane’s expression darken even further, I decided to twist the knife. I snuggled into his side and purred, “I want a latte, something sweet just like you.” He leaned in to kiss my forehead. I braced myself for the impact, but just before his lips touched my skin, Sloane slammed her fist on the table. “Rachel, tell me. What could you possibly see in him?” Sloane and I were both daughters of Bridgewater’s most prominent families. The very first lesson we ever had was in etiquette and emotional control. But right now, the class valedictorian looked like she was about to erupt. Her face was pale with rage, her eyes burning with a volcanic fire. This was spiraling far beyond what I’d planned. I thought she would just swallow her disgust and try to seduce Ethan like all the others, and I would finally get to laugh in her face. But now, all I wanted was for this to be over. “Sloane, he’s actually… he’s…” I stammered, unsure what to say with Ethan right there. But he shot up from his seat, jabbing a finger in her direction. “You just can’t stand to see us happy, can you!” he snarled. “What, are you gay or something? Got a thing for my Rachel?” Every head in the cafe swiveled in our direction. I watched Sloane’s face drain of all color. Her hands were clenched into tight fists, and I could see the muscle in her jaw working as she ground her teeth. Ethan, the idiot, was completely unaware of the danger he was in. He was preening, proud of himself for silencing her. He didn’t know that Sloane was the state kickboxing champion. “Sloane, Ethan’s just joking, don’t take it seriously,” I pleaded, trying to defuse the situation. But she didn’t seem to hear me. Her gaze was locked on me, intense and piercing. “So, what’s your choice?” Her eyes were so deep, so sharp, that a strange knot of fear tightened in my stomach. “I… I…” I didn’t even know what she was asking. “Fine,” she said, her voice flat. “I get it.” She turned and walked out of the cafe. And in that moment, a real, gut-wrenching panic seized me. 3 It’s true that Sloane stole every boyfriend I had, and damn her, she succeeded every single time. I hated her for it, wanted to scream and tear my hair out. But that didn’t change the simple, undeniable fact that I couldn’t live without her. We’d been in the same schools since kindergarten. Our families did business together, our mothers were inseparable, so it was only natural that we became best friends. She was bold and confident; I was the quiet, well-behaved daughter. Because of that, I was an easy target at school. My mom always dismissed it as kids just being kids, but Sloane never saw it that way. The boy who pulled my pigtails ended up pinned to the ground with her sitting on his chest. The girl who called me a mute got a lovely caricature drawn on her face in permanent marker. Sloane even laid down the law: “Anyone who wants to mess with Rachel has to go through me on the playground first.” Overnight, I went from being the pathetic victim to the untouchable plague. Everyone gave me a wide berth. After we graduated and started learning the ropes at our respective family companies, I felt like she began to change. When I got my first real boyfriend, I told her immediately, hoping for my best friend’s blessing. Instead, she started undermining me, flirting with him, stealing him away. She did it again and again. I started to believe that we weren’t really best friends anymore. But then, during a major negotiation with the formidable Apex Corporation, she found out I was her main competitor. Without blinking, she dropped out of the running, handing me a two-hundred-million-dollar project. Just like that. In that moment, I felt like nothing had ever changed between us. Or maybe… maybe something had been added, something I couldn’t quite name. 4 I bolted out of the cafe without a second thought. Seeing her walking away, her shoulders slumped in a way I’d never seen before, my heart ached with a sour, unfamiliar pain. “Sloane! I’m sorry about today. How about afternoon tea at The Hilton? Just the two of us?” She didn’t even turn around. “I don’t need your pity brunch,” she said, her voice like ice. “Save your money and take your boyfriend.” She was angry, I knew that, but I couldn’t figure out why. “Where are you going? Let me give you a ride!” I caught up to her, but she deliberately hailed a taxi and slipped inside. As the car sped past, all I could see was her forlorn face in the window. A wave of frustration washed over me, which only intensified when I saw Ethan sauntering over, a smug look plastered on his face. “Babe, that friend of yours is just a stuck-up brat. With a temper like that, it’s no wonder she can’t get a man. You should probably hang out with her less.” That was it. The polite, gentle Rachel vanished. He’d been my “boyfriend” for all of two days, and he thought he had the right to criticize Sloane? “The only person I’ll be seeing less of is you,” I snapped. I waved at the cafe’s entrance, and a couple of security guards immediately came over to block Ethan’s path. 5 I drove around the city for hours, aimless and empty. Nearly all of my weekends were spent with Sloane. I was realizing for the first time just how unbearable a day could be without her. It was late when I finally got home. To try and lift my spirits, I drew a hot bath and lit a new scented candle. The sweet scent of bluebells mingled with a hint of cedarwood, and I felt my tense muscles finally begin to relax. Just as I was sinking into the water, a frantic knocking echoed from the front door. It was late, and my building had some of the best security in the country. I couldn’t imagine who it could be, but I knew it had to be someone I knew. They wouldn’t have let a stranger up. I swung the door open without a second thought, and my heart stopped. It was Sloane. She’d been gone for only half a day, but she looked like she’d been through a war. She reeked of alcohol, her usually perfect bob was a mess, and her eyes, red-rimmed and raw, sharpened with a familiar mockery when they landed on me. “You’re really getting desperate, aren’t you? Stooping to trash like Ethan!” A sharp pain, like a needle to the heart, shot through me. My chest felt tight, and my first instinct was to lash back. “Did you really come all the way here in the middle of the night just to insult me? Because if so—” My words were cut off as she threw her arms around me, pulling me into a crushing hug. Her chin dug into my shoulder, and I felt a sudden warmth spreading through the fabric of my robe. She was crying. “Why…” her voice was a choked whisper. “You’d rather have him… than have me…” My breath hitched. My heart started pounding against my ribs like a drum. “Sloane, I… I would never choose him over you…” Her head snapped up, her eyes locking onto mine. A flicker of hope ignited in their depths, so bright it made my cheeks burn. “We’re best friends…” As the words left my mouth, the light in her eyes died as quickly as it had appeared. She dropped her gaze, her expression sullen. It was only then that I started to understand. A cool autumn breeze drifted through the open window, and the silence in the room was deafening. It was the first time I’d ever felt this strange, fragile tension between us. “Sloane, the thing with Ethan…” I reached for her arm, wanting to explain everything. But she stumbled, falling against me, and promptly threw up all over my chest. The sight of the white, foul-smelling mess mixed with the acrid stench of alcohol obliterated every ounce of guilt and replaced it with a piercing shriek. “SLOANE!” 6 The ruined top went straight into the trash. I glanced over at her and saw that her own shirt was in even worse shape. Dressed in a clean slip dress, I hauled her toward the bathroom. She was swaying unsteadily but was surprisingly compliant. But when I reached out to pull off her shirt, she clutched it to her chest, her face turning a deep shade of red. “Are you… are you sure about this?” She was definitely drunk. “Positive,” I said firmly, leaving no room for argument. She smelled awful. Was she planning on keeping that shirt on until Christmas? But as my fingers brushed her collar, she suddenly leaned in, her body pressing against mine. The intoxicating scent of alcohol and something uniquely her washed over me. I saw her face, her flawless skin, getting closer and closer. The tip of her nose brushed against mine, and then I felt a soft, warm pressure on my lips. Sloane was kissing me. My face felt like it was on fire. My heart hammered against my ribs, and my palms grew slick with sweat. My brain completely short-circuited. I just stood there, frozen, a deer in the headlights. She slowly pulled back, a dangerous, unreadable glint in her eyes. “No,” she murmured, her voice husky. “That’s not responsible enough.” And then, her hand reached up and pulled down the thin strap of my dress. My mind exploded. I finally understood what she meant by “responsible.” Heat flooded my entire body, all the way to the tips of my ears. Mortified, I shoved her away. “I think you’re drunk out of your mind! Wash yourself!” I couldn’t even look at her as I fled from the bathroom and locked myself in my room. 7 Tossing and turning, I couldn’t sleep. Every time I closed my eyes, the image of Sloane kissing me flashed in my mind. Even more mortifying, I found myself replaying the feeling—that soft, warm, yielding pressure. I’d never felt anything like it from any of my boyfriends. Oh god. Am I actually gay? I burrowed under the covers, rolling back and forth in a cocoon of shame and confusion. Just then, I heard slow, deliberate footsteps outside my door. Is Sloane coming in? I shot out from under the blankets, quickly turned on my side, and squeezed my eyes shut, pretending to be asleep. I waited. Five whole minutes passed, but the doorknob never turned. Is she mad at me? But I’m the one who should be mad! Then, I heard the click of a lamp in the living room, followed by the soft creak of the sofa. She was sleeping on the couch. A strange pang of disappointment hit me. We’d been having sleepovers since we were kids, always piling into the same bed. Why did this feel so… wrong? Was I really this upset just because she wasn’t sleeping in my bed? For the first time, I felt like I didn’t understand myself at all. I squeezed my eyes shut, determined to force myself to sleep. Just as I was drifting off, I heard my bedroom door creak open. It was Sloane. The room was dim, lit only by the warm orange glow of my nightlight. It cast a soft, almost melancholy light on her. I’d never seen her look so vulnerable. She walked to my bedside, took my hand, and gently traced the lines on my palm. Her expression was a raw mix of sorrow, loneliness, and guilt. “Rachel, I’m so sorry…” she whispered, her voice hoarse and still thick with the lingering scent of alcohol. I guessed she hadn’t slept either. I watched her through my eyelashes as she stood there, just looking at me. Finally, as if afraid of waking me, she turned to leave. But my hand shot out and grabbed her arm before she could. “I’m scared,” I mumbled, my voice sleepy. “Don’t go.” Her body went still. Then I heard a soft chuckle as she gracefully climbed into bed beside me. An instant later, I was enveloped in her familiar, comforting scent. Within seconds, I was fast asleep. 8 The next morning, I was woken by the soft rustle of fabric. I opened my eyes to see Sloane pulling on one of my dresses. At five-foot-nine, she turned my knee-length sundress into a very short mini-dress. She had a dancer’s waist and a lean build, but years of training had given her sleek, toned muscles that hinted at a quiet strength. “You have an amazing body, Sloane,” I said, the words tumbling out before I could stop them. She turned, and when I met her knowing gaze, I blushed. “Like what you see?” Her eyes traveled from my face down to my lips. The memory of last night’s kiss flooded back, and my cheeks grew hot. Without thinking, I blurted out, “Do you remember what happened last night?” The second I said it, I wanted to bite my tongue off. “Which part?” she asked, a smirk playing on her lips. “You know… the…” I stammered, unable to finish. She let out a sudden laugh. Confused, I watched as she wrapped an arm around me, pulling me into a hug. “I remember…” she began, drawing out the words, making my heart pound in my throat. “…that you insisted on giving me a bath, tried to rip my clothes off, and then you totally forced a kiss on me!” What? Looking at her mischievous, sparkling eyes, I realized she was teasing me. I was so mortified I could have died. I launched myself off the bed as she darted for the door. I grabbed pillows and cushions, hurling them at her, but I didn’t even come close to hitting her. “Sloane! You asshole, you’re messing with me!” I shrieked, stomping around the living room. She had just stepped out the door, but she suddenly poked her head back in. “Rachel, what did you think happened?” Her expression was suddenly serious, a hint of frustration in her eyes. “Because I only kiss people I have feelings for.” I froze, completely stunned. My brain felt like it was filled with cotton. I didn’t know what to think, what to feel, what our relationship even was anymore. I took a slow step toward her. We needed to talk. But right then, my phone rang. The name “Ethan” glowed on the screen, and Sloane’s face immediately darkened. “Rachel, it’s almost nine. Are you going to be late for work? Don’t tell me you’re turning into one of those lovesick fools who lives for romance.” Seeing the anger on her face, I immediately, and very obsequiously, declined the call. She turned and left without another word. I grabbed a jacket and raced out the door after her. “My beautiful, kind, generous Sloane! My car’s broken down, you have to give me a ride!” I whined, trailing behind her like a lost puppy. She kept her face set in a stony mask, but she didn’t stop me from getting into the passenger seat of her car.

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