Category: English

They claimed my daughter killed herself. A lie. She was raped and murdered. Seven times I begged the courts. Seven times denied. So I took the District Attorney’s daughter. Now, live on air, she’s strapped to my autopsy table. I stare into the camera, voice icy. “I did the autopsy myself, DA Caldwell. My daughter didn’t kill herself. She was murdered.” “You had seven chances to release the evidence. Now you get seven more. For every wasted chance, I remove a piece of your daughter.” On screen, Caldwell and his wife collapse, pleading: “The evidence shows suicide! She’s innocent!” The live chat erupts—monster, mad mother—but I just smile coldly, scalpel glinting as I trace the girl’s stomach. “Tick-tock. Show me the real killer.” He’s watching. The true monster is here. 1 Seeing their daughter on my table, the Caldwells shattered. “Dr. Hayes, your daughter’s death was a tragedy, but it was a suicide! What gives you the right to kidnap my child? She’s only eight years old!” the DA cried out. His wife’s voice was a hysterical shriek. “You have a child of your own! How can you be so heartless, you venomous snake!” A police officer, standing behind the DA, tried to reason with me through the camera. Even my old colleagues from the coroner’s office chimed in, their faces etched with concern. “Lynn, calm down. Please, don’t hurt that child. Mia’s death… it really was a suicide,” one of them said, his voice gentle. “You’re a medical examiner, Lynn. You know the law. Don’t destroy your life over this. Mia wouldn’t want to see you like this,” another added. “Think about it, Lynn. Mia’s body is still in the morgue, waiting for you to bring her home.” The online comments echoed their sentiments, a chorus of condemnation. “Is she insane? Just because her daughter died, she gets to torture someone else’s?” “I heard she appealed seven times and got rejected every time. This is just petty revenge against the DA!” “Seven rejections means it’s an open-and-shut case. If there was a killer, they would’ve found him by now.” “Instead of blaming everyone else, maybe she should ask herself why her own daughter wanted to die.” They had their reasons. I had mine. And my reason was simple: my daughter would never, ever kill herself. Three months ago, my Mia, who was supposed to be heading off to her dream university, was dead. Her body, pulled from the river, was a canvas of bruises, naked and cold. Because of my relationship with the victim, the office assigned another examiner to the case. I trusted the process. I thought an autopsy would bring the truth to light. But the official report came back: suicide by drowning. My Mia was a ray of sunshine. She radiated life and laughter. Suicide was not in her vocabulary. When they released her body to me, I brought her back to my own lab. With tears blurring my vision, I performed my own autopsy. And I found it. The brutal, undeniable proof of what had been done to her before she died. I collected the evidence. I documented everything. And I appealed. Again, and again, and again. Each time, my case was dismissed. The seventh time, I presented graphic photos of the horrific injuries she’d sustained—injuries that screamed sexual assault. Dismissed. I was done being dismissed. So I took the DA’s daughter. I would make them tell the truth. I step closer to the small girl on the table, the scalpel feeling like an extension of my own hand. “I told you. She did not kill herself.” My voice is dangerously quiet now. “DA Caldwell, I’ve given you a chance. Whether or not you save your daughter is up to you. Scalpels, after all, can be so… imprecise.” I can still see his face from that final appeal. The condescending pity in his eyes. I had been screaming, my voice raw with grief and fury. “This evidence came from my daughter’s body! It proves a violent crime was committed! I’ve done seven autopsies myself! What more proof do you need?!” He had looked at me as if I were a piece of dirt on his shoe. His voice was cold, clinical, final. “Ms. Hayes, given your maternal relationship to the deceased, any evidence you provide is considered potentially compromised and emotionally biased. It is not sufficient to overturn the original ruling.” His message was clear: It didn’t matter how many times I appealed. It would never be enough. Even my own lawyer had sighed, shaking his head. “Let it go, Lynn.” Let it go? I see Mia’s face in my mind, and I know I can’t. Seeing me ready to act, a collective gasp ripples through the audience, both in the room with the DA and online. Sharon Caldwell’s legs give out, and she collapses to the floor. “No, no, please… don’t hurt my baby,” she sobs, clawing at her husband’s trousers. “Do something! Give her what she wants! Our Daisy will die!” The DA’s face is pale, his composure cracking. He fumbles for his phone. “Dr. Hayes, I’ve told you a dozen times, your daughter’s death was a sui—” Before he can finish, my scalpel flashes. A small, precise cut. The girl’s ear is gone. Blood wells up instantly, crimson against her pale skin. The child, though sedated, whimpers and convulses in pain. I hold up the severed piece for the camera. “Six chances left.” The sight sends a shockwave of panic through everyone watching. Sharon Caldwell lets out a sound that is barely human, a raw, guttural scream of a mother watching her child be mutilated. “You’re a monster! A monster! Leave my baby alone! She’s innocent!” The DA, his eyes wild with terror, is now frantically yelling into his phone, presumably to his superiors. The police are scrambling, trying to trace my broadcast location. But they won’t find me. The account I’m using is routed through a dozen offshore servers. It will take them hours, and they don’t have hours. The comments section is a waterfall of hatred. “Pure evil. She deserves to burn in hell!” “Why couldn’t she have died instead of her daughter?” “Where are the cops?! Get this psychopath off the streets!” … Let them curse me. I don’t care. To uncover the truth of what happened to my Mia, I would burn the whole world down. Ignoring the noise, I wait. Ten minutes pass. Finally, DA Caldwell appears on screen again, holding up a file. He begins to read from the official police report. I barely glance at it before turning back to the girl. With another swift movement, I sever her thumb. “Five chances left.” The evidence he’s presenting is the same garbage I’ve seen a hundred times. A collection of half-truths and fabricated conclusions, all pointing to suicide. It’s a lie. A carefully constructed lie designed to hide a monster. I’m not satisfied. My scalpel drifts lazily over the girl’s arm, leaving a thin red line in its wake. “You know this isn’t what I want, Caldwell,” I say, my voice a low growl. “I want the killer. I want the evidence of what he did to my daughter. The real evidence. The files you buried. Stop feeding me these fairy tales, or the next thing to go won’t be a finger.” The DA’s face is ashen, but he grits his teeth. “This is the evidence! Everything here confirms that your daughter, Mia Hayes, died by suicide!” His wife launches herself at the camera again, her face a mess of tears and mascara. “You lunatic! Let my child go! We gave you the proof, what more do you want?!” I look at her broken form, and a bitter, painful smile crosses my face. “We’re both mothers. You can’t bear to see your child suffer. And I refuse to let mine die in vain.” The live chat erupts once more. “She’s in complete denial. The evidence is right there.” “This is a classic case of persecutory delusion.” “We live in a society of laws. The facts are the facts. What the hell is she trying to prove?” The hate washes over me, but I don’t feel it. All I see is my daughter’s face, her silenced voice crying out for justice. The seconds tick by, each one a twist of the knife in my heart, each one a countdown for another part of the DA’s daughter. On his third attempt, he presents the same old lies. They’re stalling. Trying to buy time to find me. But I won’t give them that luxury. My resolve hardens. I take the girl’s hand and, with a sickening pop, I sever the tendons in her wrist. “I have all the time in the world,” I say, my voice flat and dead. “Does your daughter, Mr. Caldwell?” I pause, letting the question hang in the air. “Or are you really willing to sacrifice your own child to protect a criminal?” My words hit their mark. He chokes, his hands clenching into fists at his sides, his whole body trembling with a mixture of rage and helplessness. His wife has fainted. The police try a new tactic. They bring my mentor on screen. Dr. Peterson. The man who taught me everything I know. He stands before the camera, his old eyes cloudy with sorrow. “Lynn,” he says, his voice raspy. “You fight for the people. You give a voice to the dead. How can you do this to a living child? I know you’re in pain over Mia, but listen to me. Please, don’t take this path.” Seeing him, the man who was like a father to me, sends a fresh wave of agony through me. He performed the official autopsy on my daughter. He, too, hid the truth. “Dr. Peterson,” I whisper, the words catching in my throat. “You watched Mia grow up. When you cut into her body… didn’t you feel anything? Why are you helping them cover this up?” I don’t understand. How could everyone be protecting this monster? He lets out a long, heavy sigh. “Lynn, Mia’s death was a suicide. I am not lying to you. The police are not lying to you. The DA is not lying to you.” He glances at Caldwell, a flicker of something passing between them. Then he gestures off-camera. “We have a witness who can attest to Mia’s depression.” My blood runs cold as a girl steps into the frame. It’s Chloe. My daughter’s best friend. Chloe stands before the world and says, her voice trembling, “Aunt Lynn… I can confirm it. Mia was depressed. She… she had talked about killing herself before.” The words hit me like a physical blow. I stagger back, my breath catching in my chest. For a moment, the world goes silent. I stare at Chloe’s face on the screen, her eyes darting away from the camera, and I feel my heart being squeezed in a vise. Mia’s closest confidante. The girl who spent half her life at our house, who shared secrets with Mia under the covers late at night. How could she be part of this lie? The day before Mia died, she was bubbling with excitement, telling me how she and Chloe had both gotten into the same top university. They were planning their trip, dreaming of exploring the city, seeing the sights… She was so full of hope, so electric with joy. That wasn’t a girl on the verge of suicide. “Chloe,” I say, fighting to keep my voice steady, but my shaking hands betray me. “Look at me. Tell me you’re telling the truth. When did Mia ever say she was depressed? Did she see a doctor? Is there a diagnosis?” Chloe won’t meet my gaze. Her voice is barely a whisper. “Before finals… she said she was scared of disappointing you if she didn’t get in… She said the pressure was too much, that… that life felt meaningless…” “That’s a lie!” I roar, cutting her off. “Mia was a brilliant student! Getting into that university was her dream, not just mine! She would never throw her life away over grades! Who’s making you say this? Is it him? The killer? Is it Caldwell? Or is it…” My eyes lock onto Dr. Peterson. “Is it my mentor?” Chloe shakes her head, pulling a folded envelope from her pocket. She opens it and carefully removes a single sheet of paper. “No one is threatening me, Aunt Lynn. Mia really did kill herself.” She unfolds the paper and holds it up to the camera. “This is her suicide note.” Mom, I’m sorry. I can’t do this anymore… I stare at the words, my heart splintering into a thousand pieces. The handwriting… it’s unmistakably Mia’s. The police had already confirmed it. For a shattering moment, my resolve wavers. Could it be true? Was Mia secretly suffering, and I was too blind to see it? Then, as my eyes scan the page, my gaze falls on a single sentence. One line, hidden in the text. And in that instant, everything becomes terrifyingly clear. I finally understand why they were so certain they could rule her death a suicide. Just as everyone watching breathed a sigh of relief, convinced I would finally break, I turned back to the table. I brought the scalpel down, severing one of the DA’s daughter’s toes. I looked back at the camera, my eyes burning with a cold, renewed fire. “This note,” I snarled, “is a lie. And I’m not buying it.” “You have three chances left, Caldwell.”

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The day I had the miscarriage, my boyfriend disappeared. That night, his childhood best friend posted a picture of two marriage certificates, stamped with both of their faces. 【Officially on the road. From this day forward, through thick and thin.】 He commented instantly: “My first time. I’ll be gentle.” A flood of comments poured in, wishing them a lifetime of happiness. Some clueless colleagues even sent their wedding gift money to me. I gritted my teeth against the pain, refunded each one, and left a casual comment of my own: 【May you have a long and happy life together. And may you be blessed with children soon.】 The girl’s post was deleted in a second. And the phone call from my boyfriend, who’d been missing all day, came through immediately. “Are you insane? You made a young girl cry, and now you’re acting like you’re the damn wife already? I haven’t married you yet. Know your place.” Ten years together, and this kind of absurd drama had played out countless times. Every time he sobered up, he’d dismiss it as a drunken joke. It always ended the same way: with me breaking down in tears, then swallowing the thorn in my heart and carrying on. But this time, I was done. 1 When Ethan came back, I was still on the sofa, wrapped in a blanket. A gut-wrenching pain tore through my lower abdomen from the D&C procedure I’d just had. He didn’t even take off his coat before he started laying into me. “Vera, what the hell were you thinking with that comment last night?” “We all run in the same circles! Chloe is like a little sister to me, we grew up together!” “She’s a young girl, she has a reputation to think about! How is she supposed to face anyone now that people think she’s a homewrecker?” I said nothing, letting him rant. “To make it up to her, I’ve arranged a cushy job for her at the company. You need to post something to clear the air. Just say we broke up.” “Otherwise,” he threatened, “I can’t promise I’ll show up the next time we’re supposed to get our marriage license.” This was the 99th time Ethan had bailed on getting married. The first time, Chloe got her period and had cramps, so Ethan ditched me to go buy her pads. The second time, Chloe had a fever. He left me standing thirty miles away at the doors of City Hall and just turned around and left. The third time, she got scared watching a horror movie by herself in a theater and called him crying. The fifth time… The sixth… In the ten years we’d been together, Ethan had abandoned me ninety-nine times. This time was the one-hundredth. “Marriage license? We don’t need one anymore.” I let out a cold laugh, my gaze drifting calmly out the window. Only then did he seem to remember, his eyes flicking down to my stomach. “Don’t be ridiculous, you’re pregnant. Here, have some hot soup. You must’ve caught a chill last night.” He handed me a takeout container with half a bowl of lukewarm chowder. A few pathetic shreds of shrimp and leftover celery floated on the surface. I lowered my eyes to my phone. Chloe had been relentlessly trying to add me as a friend since morning, over a dozen times. I’d ignored every request. Just a moment ago, however, Ethan had added me to a group chat with six people. It was him, his four childhood buddies, and Chloe—the only girl. The group’s name was “Chloe’s Knights.” The second I joined, Chloe sent a voice message. Her voice was thick with booze and tears. “Vera, please don’t misunderstand. Ethan and I were just joking around, we were drunk.” The others immediately chimed in. “What’s the big deal? Does our princess Chloe really have to apologize for this?” “Seriously. Someone’s got a princess complex, and it ain’t Chloe.” “We were all just messing around. We’ve known each other for years, are you really gonna get hung up on this?” “Don’t feel bad, Chloe. Apologize? For what? Does she even deserve it?” “If they were gonna sleep together, they would’ve done it years ago. It would’ve had nothing to do with you.” “Where’s Ethan? Is he dead or something? Letting a girl take the heat all by herself.” Chloe’s social media wasn’t private. Her latest post was a nine-photo grid, shining brightly on her feed. The caption was sickeningly sweet and proud: 【Just a newlywed. Is there anything better than a bowl of seafood chowder made by your husband’s own hands after a long, hard night? ~】 Ethan wasn’t looking at his phone. He was prying the lid off the takeout container. The fishy stench of overnight chowder filled the air. I’ve always been allergic to shellfish; the smell alone made me want to gag. “Ugh—” Ethan’s brow furrowed instantly. “What are you being so dramatic for? It’s just soup, you’re going to vomit?” “Even if you won’t drink it, you should think about the baby.” “There is no baby,” I replied, my voice cold and empty. Even as I fought to contain the inferno of hatred inside me, my knuckles turned white as I gripped the blanket. He froze, the casual confidence draining from his face, leaving only bewilderment. “What do you mean?” I stared out at the thick darkness beyond the window, not wanting to say another word. His face was pale. After a long moment, he looked up, his eyes red-rimmed. His voice softened as he knelt in front of me and began to explain. “Last night… Chloe’s boyfriend broke up with her. She wanted me to get a marriage license with her to piss him off.” “It’s just kids’ stuff, a game. We’ll get it annulled in a few days.” “After the New Year, we’ll go get our license! Don’t worry. We can always have another baby.” He took my hand, his long, elegant fingers wrapping around mine, and pressed his face into my palm. His full lips moved as he spoke, just beneath his strong nose. His thick lashes couldn’t hide the redness in his eyes. Ethan had been admired for his looks his whole life, which is how a looks-obsessed person like me ended up wasting a decade on him. I used to melt whenever he looked at me like this. But now… I felt nothing. “Don’t be upset. If you don’t want the chowder, I’ll take you out to eat.” He pulled me up, ready to leave. The moment he opened the passenger-side door of the car, a thick cloud of perfume hit me. A pair of pink, lacy panties, caught on the hem of my coat, dangled in the air. Ethan’s face went white. “Chloe… she insisted on changing into a dress yesterday to get the license. It was late, there was nowhere else to change, so I just…” I showed no reaction. He, on the other hand, was squirming. He shot me a look and promised again, “I’ll clean it up. Next week. The second City Hall opens on Monday, I’ll take her to get this annulled.” The car was dead silent. Finally, he couldn’t take it anymore. His brow creased in frustration as his hand, which had been gripping the steering wheel, reached for a cigarette and lit it. Through the haze of smoke, his impatience finally spilled out. “Anyone who knew would think you lost a baby. Anyone who didn’t would think you’d gone mute.” “Are you angry or not? Can’t you say a single goddamn word?” 2 I forced a faint smile. My eyes landed on the sticker plastered on the passenger-side dashboard: “Princess Chloe’s Royal Seat.” I couldn’t help but laugh. Last night, while I was miscarrying, my best friend sent me a TikTok. “Vera, doesn’t this car look like Ethan’s?” In the photo, Chloe had her bare feet up on the dash. Beside them sat a bouquet of red roses and a diamond ring. The caption accompanying the three Live Photos read: 【Twenty-two and living my best life in the passenger seat of a Benz.】 【Shoutout to the woman who spent countless rides on the back of his scooter. Glad I never had to go through that.】 It was true. For ten years, I rode on the back of Ethan’s scooter. We fought our way up from nothing, scrimped and saved for so long, and finally decided to buy our own car before the wedding. This car was brand new. Yesterday was the first time I was supposed to ride in it. But because of one phone call from Chloe, he left me stranded on the way to get our marriage license. The December drizzle was freezing into icy needles. I slipped and fell on the side of the road as a dark crimson stain spread from between my legs. He was off with his “best friend,” getting their joke marriage license, and didn’t come home all night. My body was already incredibly weak from the blood loss. Now, a fresh wave of red was beginning to seep through. My face pale, I pushed the car door open and started walking back to the apartment. Ethan, knowing he was in the wrong, followed me with his head down. “I’ll stay with you.” He helped me onto the sofa, drew a basin of hot water to soak my feet, washed fruit for me, and cut it into neat slices. Attentive, as always. I could hardly tell if the man before me now and the man from last night were the same person. He used to be this considerate, this perfect, in every way. Until he made it big. Then, photos of him with other women started appearing on my phone. He always insisted he was innocent, and he’d fire the women who came onto him or avoid them completely. But getting married was delayed again and again. A woman’s best years are fleeting. Ten of mine had passed. And finally, I didn’t want him anymore. In the middle of the night, I lay with my back to him, my abdomen wracked with unbearable pain. As it intensified, I couldn’t take it anymore. I stumbled out of bed and called a cab to go to the hospital. “What’s wrong? I’ll take you.” Ethan, surprisingly, was awake. He shot up and grabbed my coat for me. In the dead of night, his phone suddenly began to ring, shrill and insistent. He always put his calls on speaker when I was around. Chloe’s tear-filled voice cut through the darkness. “Honey, I wanted to make you soup, but I cut my finger… there’s so much blood… I’m so scared, boo-hoo.” The coat slipped from Ethan’s hand. His face changed. “Does it hurt? I told you not to mess around in the kitchen, you don’t know how to cook!” “I’m coming right now. You just be good!” The endearment and scolding came out so naturally. As he finished, he instinctively glanced at me, but he couldn’t read my expression. “Vera, we just got the license, Chloe isn’t used to it yet. Don’t mind her, she’s just a kid, she’s playing around.” “I need to go to the hospital.” The pain was so intense my vision was blackening. I instinctively clutched his sleeve. He hesitated. But the texts on his phone were coming in one after another. Chloe’s soft sobs were crystal clear, each one like a needle pricking at Ethan’s heart. The look of profound concern was written all over his face. My hand was forcefully shoved away. In agony, I tried to grab him again, but I was blocking his frantic escape. “Get out of the way!” He gave me a hard shove. I stumbled and fell against the wardrobe. A heavy vase toppled off and crashed squarely into my stomach. The metallic taste of blood immediately filled my mouth. “Ethan, don’t go.” But he didn’t even look back at me. He grabbed his coat, struggling into it as he unleashed his fury on me. “Vera, will you give it a rest?” “Didn’t you hear Chloe is hurt? Why are you picking a fight with a girl seven years younger than you?” “She got hurt trying to do something for me! How can you be so vicious? Do you want her to bleed out before you’re satisfied?” I was in too much pain to speak, gasping for every breath. He was still yelling. “So she took your spot as the bride for a day, is that why you’re trying to get revenge?” “You’re almost thirty, an old woman. What’s the big deal about waiting one more day? You’ve waited ten years, you can’t wait a little longer now?” He saw me struggling to my feet, saw the bright red blood pooling beneath me. He froze for a second, then his brow furrowed in disgust. “Are you serious? You’d hurt yourself just to keep me here? Have some goddamn dignity.” “The keys. Your car keys.” My words cut him off. I threw the object in my hand at his feet. Ethan was completely speechless. His expression turned awkward. After a silent second, his lips moved, and he spoke softly. “Wait for me. I… I’ll be back soon.” He turned and fled, not even bothering to put his coat on properly, his heart clearly somewhere else. By the time the sky began to lighten, he still hadn’t returned. I must have passed out for a while. When I came to, I found myself lying on the freezing floor, not knowing how long I’d been there. Dark red had soaked through my pants. I fought back the rising panic and the sour sting in my heart, and slowly, painfully, dragged myself to the front door. I knocked on my neighbor’s door. “Oh my God, Vera!” Her scream was the last thing I heard before I collapsed. 3 When I opened my eyes, I was in a cold hospital room, undergoing a D&C. It felt like a pair of icy tongs were inside me, scraping mercilessly at the walls of my womb. It was a pain that felt like my bones were being carved out, my flesh stripped away. A cold sweat beaded on my forehead. In the midst of the agony, my phone rang. It was my best friend. “Vera, is Ethan home?” she asked, her tone hesitant. “I think I can hear his voice next door… and the sounds are, well… let’s just say they’re not just talking.” My best friend lived next door to Chloe. The hand holding my phone fell limp against the bed. I stared at the harsh fluorescent light overhead for what felt like an eternity, long enough for it to burn away the moisture in the corners of my eyes. That half hour was the longest of my life. It ended when I heard the doctor say, “There’s a risk of further hemorrhaging. We didn’t get everything.” I finally left that room. As I sat alone in the recovery ward, a girl who looked no older than sixteen or seventeen, her eyes red, handed me a tissue. “Here, miss.” I wiped my tears, my mind a complete blank. This baby was an unexpected gift this year. After my mother passed away, I was utterly alone in the world, with no family left. Since then, I’ve yearned for a family of my own, for someone who belonged to me. For this child, I had gone through countless rounds of IVF, choked down bitter medicines. I knew the sooner I could carry a child to term, the safer it would be. So I persevered. The blue and purple bruises from the injections on my stomach would barely fade before new ones appeared. But now, that child was nothing more than a mangled mess of blood and tissue. When the doctor showed me the basin, the tears I had been holding back streamed down my face. The family I had dreamed of for so long was now just a bowl of bloody water. Six years of effort, all washed away. Swallowing the suffocating pain, I took a cab home. I was going to pack my things and leave the home Ethan and I shared. But as I was packing, I realized my mother’s wedding dress was gone. It was the last thing she had left me. Two years ago, before she died of cancer, she told me her biggest regret was not being able to see my wedding. She couldn’t be there, but she hoped one day I would wear this dress to walk toward my own happiness. I searched the apartment like a madwoman, but the dress was nowhere to be found. Ethan’s phone went straight to voicemail. As I collapsed in a storm of tears, my best friend called again. “Vera, you have to see this local video! Why is Ethan having a wedding with someone else?!” My frantic search stopped. I forced down my panic and clicked the link she sent. The image that filled my screen shattered my heart. In the video, Ethan was walking Chloe down an aisle on a lawn at the Garden Hotel. Chloe, clutching a bouquet, was smiling shyly. And she was wearing my mother’s wedding dress. My vision went black. Rage and pain tore through my chest. Ethan, how dare you? By the time I reached the hotel, Chloe was planting a kiss on Ethan’s cheek. SMACK! I slapped her across the face with all my strength. “You thieving bitch!” “Ah!” “Ethan, she hit me! Waaaah…” Chloe clutched her face, her eyes instantly welling up with tears as she ducked behind Ethan. Ethan’s buddies were all there. Their faces darkened, and they formed a protective circle around her, glaring at me like a pack of wolves. “You crazy bitch, do you know whose turf you’re on? You dare hit Chloe?!” Ethan’s expression was thunderous. He stormed over to me, looking as if I had personally humiliated him in front of the world. He gave me a hard shove. “Vera! Will you give it a rest?” “Look around you! Chloe’s friends and colleagues are all here!” “She has a marriage license with me now, you think we could just not have a wedding?” “I’m just going through the motions with her, it’s all an act! Did you really have to come here and make a scene?!” 4 “I don’t care who you marry, but you should never, ever have desecrated my mother’s wedding dress!” Ethan’s eyes darted away, his righteous anger faltering as he stammered out an explanation. “Vera, just let me explain.” “Chloe saw the dress when she came over. She’s just a curious kid. She was just borrowing it to wear for a bit, she was going to give it right back.” “Can’t you be a little less petty?” Seeing the fire in my eyes, he took a deep breath and spoke in a tone of forced patience. “At least she’s walking down the aisle with me in it. Isn’t that what your mom would have wanted? What’s the big deal?” I could have shattered my own teeth from clenching my jaw so hard. I was stunned by his shamelessness. I saw Ethan’s friends glaring at me, ready to pounce. Getting Chloe to take off the dress willingly was impossible. Ethan was shielding her, looking at me as if I were the one being completely unreasonable. From the crowd, I could hear Chloe’s colleagues and friends whispering. The voices were just loud enough for me to hear every word. “Who is this mistress? Some old woman acting so shameless, trying to steal the bride’s dress.” “Exactly. Look at her, she’s so washed up. Ethan is one of the top execs in Crestwood. You think he’d ever be interested in her?” Seeing that I wasn’t leaving, Chloe clung to Ethan, crying her eyes out. But the look she shot me over his shoulder was pure, triumphant arrogance. I raised my phone to my ear. “Hello, I’d like to report a theft. My wedding dress, valued at twenty thousand dollars, is currently being worn by the thief.” “What are you talking about?! Who’s a thief?!” “Ethan, look at her!” Chloe’s face turned pale with fear. She ripped the dress off in a panic. “Vera, don’t say things like that! I’ll take the dress off, fine! If I’d known it belonged to a dead person, I would’ve thrown it out ages ago.” She tossed the dress at me with disgust, and in the process, “accidentally” knocked over a platter of gravy. Instantly, several dogs brought by the guests swarmed it, tearing and biting at the fabric. The beautiful wedding dress was instantly covered in filth, ripped to shreds by the dogs. A sharp pain lanced through my heart. I lunged forward, grabbed her by the hair, and slapped her again, hard! Chloe fell to the ground, wailing. “My ear! It hurts so much, I can’t hear anything, Ethan!” Ethan’s eyes filled with concern. He rushed over, scooped her up, and stepped right on my hand as I reached for a piece of the shredded dress. “Will you ever stop, Vera?! It’s just a stupid dress!” he roared. “Chloe’s a musician! If her hearing is damaged, what’s she supposed to do with her life?!” “Is a dead person more important than the living?!” I stared at him in disbelief. Ethan was an orphan my mother had sponsored. She supported him his whole life; she even funded his first company. Now that she was gone, she was just “a dead person” to him. He must have realized what he’d said. His tone softened. “Vera, I didn’t mean it like that.” “I’m taking Chloe to the hospital first. When I get back, I’ll get this marriage annulled.” “Next month, on the anniversary of your mother’s passing, we’ll get our license.” He rubbed his temples, looking utterly exhausted. “I’ll buy you a new dress. Just pretend I’m the one who ruined it. Stop making a scene, okay?” “Twenty thousand dollars. Not a penny less,” I said, my voice ice-cold as I looked at the sobbing Chloe. Ethan’s face went completely dark. “Twenty thousand? We’re supposed to be family. Have you not had enough drama for one day?” “If you keep this up, then maybe we shouldn’t get married at all.” I knew Ethan’s liquid cash was all tied up in the stock market. Chloe didn’t have any money. He wanted to play the hero, but coming up with twenty thousand dollars would be like pulling teeth. Too bad it wasn’t my life on the line. I gathered the tattered remains of the dress, looking from the fragile damsel in his arms to Ethan’s pale, strained face. I announced, my voice devoid of emotion, “I’ve already filed a police report for the damaged dress. And also, Vera Song doesn’t want cheap, second-hand goods. Remember, I’m the one dumping you.” “Consider the twenty-thousand-dollar bill my wedding gift to you.” “I wish you and your best friend a long and happy life together.”

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Liam Thorne and I once had a brief, whirlwind romance. We met when I was studying abroad, and I thought he was just another ordinary international student. He was handsome, with a great body, and on a whim, I decided to pursue him. After six months of a shameless, passionate affair, I discovered he was from a wealthy, powerful family. Not only that, he was notoriously commitment-phobic, a well-known bachelor in his social circle. So, I hid the truth about my pregnancy and broke up with him. After making me confirm my decision three times, he lowered his eyes and nodded. “Fine. From now on, we’re strangers.” But we couldn’t stay strangers. Four years later, we met again. He was the celebrated heir to the Thorne fortune. And I… was his cousin’s fiancée. 1 I met Liam Thorne while I was studying in Melbourne. He was on a trip to the Great Ocean Road with his friends, and I was just sitting on the beach, bored out of my mind, when I saw him. My eyes were instantly glued to him. Liam was ridiculously good-looking. The line of his jaw was clean and sharp, and the curve of his long eyelashes was utterly captivating. The sea breeze lifted the hem of his shirt, revealing a glimpse of his waistline that was so tantalizing I couldn’t look away. This, I thought, must be love at first sight. On a sudden impulse, I jogged up to him and blocked his path. “Interested in making a new friend?” Liam turned, a slight arch to his eyebrow, a flicker of surprise in his eyes. “What for?” he asked. There’s a certain boldness that comes with being a stranger in a strange land. I answered him directly. “To see if we can become something more.” His friends started catcalling and whistling. A faint blush crept up Liam’s neck, and he cleared his throat. He hesitated for a moment when I held out my phone with my contact QR code, but then he scanned it. “Alright,” he said. “Let’s start with getting to know each other.” 2 Liam was not an easy guy to win over. After adding me as a contact, he completely ghosted me. Even when I came up with the most cringe-worthy excuses to message him, all I got in return was a “read” receipt. It slowly dawned on me that he wasn’t interested. He had only added me that day to save me from public embarrassment. So, I gave up. The next time I saw him was at a university mixer. He was standing off to the side, looking cool and aloof in a crisp white shirt. I spotted him right away, but since we weren’t really friends, I didn’t go over to say hi. Throughout the entire event, I trailed after my senior, a guy from my department. But I couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was watching me. The feeling intensified when my senior accidentally spilled a drink on my dress and started frantically trying to wipe it off. That’s when I found the source of the stare. It was Liam. His lips were pressed into a thin line, his eyes fixed on me, his expression unreadable but definitely not pleased. On my way to the restroom, a hand shot out and pulled me into an alcove. Liam leaned in, his narrow, intense eyes boring into mine. “Didn’t you say you wanted to be more than friends?” he asked, his voice low and laced with an unmistakable annoyance. “Why are you acting like you don’t know me today?” Even angry, his face was unfairly beautiful. The way his Adam’s apple bobbed as he spoke was… distracting. I tilted my head, looking at him with genuine curiosity. “Liam, are you jealous?” He froze for a second, a flicker of something in his eyes. He didn’t deny it. I couldn’t help but laugh. “But you need a reason to be jealous. On what grounds are you feeling jealous right now?” The color drained from his face. He stared at me, his grip on my wrist tightening. I stood on my tiptoes, our noses almost touching, and whispered, “Alright, I’ll give you one more chance. Liam, are you interested in being my boyfriend?” “I’ll give you three seconds to think about it.” “Three… two…” I didn’t even get to “one.” Staring at his lips, so close to mine, I gave in to another impulse and kissed him. It was supposed to be a light peck, but I don’t know which one of us lost control first. Suddenly, his arms were around me, pressing me against the wall, his hand cradling the back of my head as our lips and tongues tangled in a fierce, desperate dance. His answer was a muffled sound against my mouth, lost in our ragged breaths. “Serena,” he murmured. “Let’s be together.” 3 My feelings for Liam were, I think, purely physical. Every time I saw him, I had an irresistible urge to get closer, to touch him, to want more. But Liam was different. He was all self-control and restraint. Even when we traveled together, he would book two separate rooms. If it weren’t for the way he responded when we kissed, I might have thought he had a problem. The day we finally crossed that line was his birthday. I had booked a suite with an ocean view. We were cuddled up on the couch, watching a movie. Halfway through, I slipped off my cardigan, revealing the bunny costume I was wearing underneath. I took his hand and placed it on the fluffy, round tail. I felt his breath catch in his throat. But he didn’t pull away. He just watched me, his eyes dark. Emboldened, I grabbed the collar of his shirt and nibbled on his Adam’s apple. Then, I lifted his shirt and traced the lines of his abs with my fingers. His body was even better than I had imagined. A well-defined chest, hard abs, and those lean, muscular lines that drove me crazy. But his self-control was insane. Even then, with his chest heaving and his skin burning hot, he didn’t move. I looked up at him, the bunny ears on my headband flopping. “If you’re not into this, I’ll just go.” I bit his lower abdomen playfully, then slowly stood up and walked toward the door. Just as my hand touched the doorknob, he finally broke. In two long strides, he was behind me, his strong arms wrapping around me, his teeth grazing my shoulder. “Serena,” he whispered, his voice hoarse, “you’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you? Teasing me, then threatening to leave. How can you be so cruel?” That night, Liam finally shed his mask of restraint, and we were tangled together until dawn. We were together like that for six months. We traveled to the pink lakes of Western Australia, Hyde Park in Sydney, and Bruny Island in Tasmania, our bodies trembling in each other’s arms in hotel rooms across the country. I thought he was perfect. But when I happily posted a photo of us on my social media, a single comment made my world come to a screeching halt. “Damn, Serena, you’re good. You actually managed to snag Liam Thorne, the heir to the Thorne fortune.” 4 Being a student abroad can temporarily mask the vast differences in social class. Sure, Liam wore expensive watches and designer clothes, but I just thought he was from a well-off family. I never imagined his family wasn’t just rich, but powerful. The kind of dynasty I’d only read about in novels. And as if that wasn’t enough, he was famously anti-marriage. The day I found this out, I was holding a pregnancy test. It showed two lines. About a month earlier, things had gotten a little too heated, and a condom had broken. I took the morning-after pill right away, but somehow, I still ended up pregnant. I didn’t know if the rumors about him were true, so that night, I decided to test the waters. “Liam,” I said, “I passed a bridal shop today. The dress in the window was beautiful. Speaking of wedding dresses, when do you think you’ll get married?” He clearly didn’t like the topic. His brow furrowed. “I don’t plan on getting married.” “What about kids? You don’t want kids either?” His frown deepened. “No.” Logically, I should have dropped it right there. But I couldn’t. I had to try one more time. “What if someone got pregnant with your child? What would you do?” After a brief hesitation, he told me, “I wouldn’t let anyone get pregnant with my child. And if it happened, they’d get an abortion.” He clearly wanted to change the subject. He pulled me into his arms, his lips brushing against mine, his eyes darkening with a familiar desire. I knew the signs. We were always in sync in bed, but this time, as he lifted me into his arms, I stopped him. “Not tonight.” It wasn’t that I couldn’t. It was that I didn’t want to. I’d been to the doctor. They told me I had a condition that made it extremely difficult to conceive. If I terminated this pregnancy, I would likely never be able to have a child of my own. I had grown up without much family. My parents had passed away when I was young, and I had always longed for a child of my own. Liam was handsome, emotionally stable, and intelligent. He was the perfect father for my child. After a lot of thought, I decided to keep the baby. But my relationship with Liam… if I wanted this child, we would have to break up. I would raise the baby on my own, so it wouldn’t interfere with his life. The day I broke up with him was the day before we were scheduled to fly back home. Liam was packing, planning our itinerary for when we arrived. “It’s so humid in the city in the summer. We can relax at the hotel in the afternoons and go out in the evenings. I’ll take you to the night markets, we can walk through the old town, see the Bell and Drum Towers, and then find a bar with some live music…” I cut him off. The words I’d been holding back for weeks finally came out. “Liam, let’s break up.” He froze, his hands stilling. “What did you say?” “I bought a ticket to a different city for tomorrow. I’m not going with you. And… we’re breaking up.” 5 A guy like Liam had probably never been dumped before. He was insistent, demanding a reason. There were so many. I was pregnant with his child, and he didn’t want children. I was dating with marriage in mind, and he didn’t want to get married. Our families were from two different worlds. We were never going to work. But I couldn’t tell him any of that. Under his relentless questioning, I finally blurted out, “What if I told you I’m just… bored of you? Is that a good enough reason?” “Bored?” I nodded. “Yeah, bored. You were like a perfect, sweet piece of fruit at first. But I’ve had too much. Now, you’re just… too sweet. It’s sickening.” His eyes darkened with anger. His hands gripped my shoulders. “Serena,” he said through gritted teeth, “say that again.” I looked at him, forcing a nonchalant expression. “What? After all this time, you’re telling me you’re not bored of me yet?” He stared at me for a long, long time, as if trying to see into my soul. As the sky began to lighten with the first hints of dawn, he asked me one more time, “Are you serious?” “I’m serious.” He didn’t say anything else. He just watched me as I packed my bag and grabbed my suitcase. As I reached the door, he let out a short, bitter laugh. “Serena, do you even have a heart? You were the one who said you liked me, and now you’re the one who’s bored. Was I just a toy to you?” He looked down, his eyes red-rimmed, his knuckles white. He looked like he was about to shatter into a million pieces. For a moment, my heart softened. But before I could say anything, he spoke again, his voice cold and deliberate. “Serena, I wish I had never met you. From now on, if we see each other, we’re strangers.” He never once asked me to stay. I bit my lip and nodded. “Okay.” Then I walked out the door and got on the plane back to my hometown. Our breakup was clean. We deleted each other’s contact information. Back in our home country, we were on opposite ends of the continent, separated by thousands of miles. I never heard a single thing about Liam Thorne again. He had completely vanished from my life. Eight months later, I gave birth to Noah. Noah was an easy baby. He rarely cried and was fiercely independent. He had my face shape, but his features, especially his eyes, were all Liam. I raised him quietly, on my own. In my mind, Liam would never know he had a son. But I was wrong. When Noah was three, they met. 6 I had a good friend in my city, a guy I’d known for a few years. He was from the capital, incredibly wealthy, and gay. His family had been pressuring him to get married and have kids. His parents had given him an ultimatum: bring home a girlfriend this year, or be cut off. In a moment of desperation, he came to me. He begged me to pretend to be his girlfriend, and for Noah to pretend to be his son. That way, he could solve both problems at once. “All handsome guys look alike,” he’d argued. “If you look closely, your son kind of looks like me, especially around the eyes. If I say he’s mine, people will probably buy it. We’ll say I moved here for you, and we’ve been so in love that we even had a kid together. And that you didn’t want to deal with in-laws, so I respected your wishes and kept you a secret all this time.” The real reason my friend, Alex, was in my city was to find a boyfriend, which had absolutely nothing to do with me. I wanted no part in his scheme. But then he offered me two hundred thousand dollars to play the part. And I, pathetically, agreed. I had been idealistic in college, but the real world had taught me how hard it was to make a living, especially with a child to support. I couldn’t say no to that kind of money. So, with a silent apology to Alex’s parents, Noah and I flew to the capital. Alex told me all I had to do was meet his parents, have one meal with them, and stay in the city for a week. The demands weren’t outrageous, so I agreed. On the plane, I thought of him. I was scared I would run into him. But then I told myself I was being paranoid. The city was huge. What were the chances of us meeting again? Life wasn’t a movie. Noah sat beside me, listening intently as I explained the plan. “Don’t worry, Mommy,” he said, nodding seriously. “I remember.” I’d told him we were helping Uncle Alex with a play. He was a smart kid, and I wasn’t worried about him slipping up. When we arrived, Alex informed me that his parents were throwing a welcome party and had invited a few relatives and friends. I had imagined a quiet dinner in a private room. I had not imagined that the Thorne family had so many relatives they needed to rent out a grand ballroom. I froze the moment I walked in. The room was dripping with gold and crystal chandeliers. It was a scene straight out of a movie. “I forgot to mention,” Alex whispered, “my family is a little rich. But don’t worry, my parents are just sweet, clueless rich people. Just act your part, and you’ll be fine.” It was too late to back out. I had to see this through. The moment Noah and I entered, we were surrounded. Everyone was talking at once, especially Alex’s parents, who bombarded me with questions. Thankfully, Alex and I had rehearsed, so I managed to answer everything. Later, Alex’s parents were cooing over Noah. “The moment I saw this child, I knew he had Thorne blood,” his mother gushed. “Look at those eyes! He looks just like Alex.” Noah, the little actor, charmed them completely, calling them “Grandma” and “Grandpa” until they were beaming. I was just starting to relax, thinking we had pulled it off, when Alex sent me a text. His cousin, the heir to the family fortune, had decided to grace the party with his presence. He was a big deal, and Alex urged me to go and say hello. So, I powdered my nose and headed back to the ballroom. When I got there, his cousin had already arrived. He was standing with his back to me, talking to Alex, dressed in a perfectly tailored dark suit. I recognized him instantly. It was Liam. I never, in a million years, would have guessed that Alex’s cousin was Liam. The moment I saw him, my mind went blank. Before I could school my expression, Noah spotted me and waved excitedly. “Mommy! Mommy’s back!” Liam turned at the sound of his voice, and his eyes landed on me. Our gazes met, and for a moment, the world stood still. Alex rushed to my side. “Cousin, this is my girlfriend, Serena,” he announced proudly. “She’s a little shy, that’s why she never wanted to come to the city. I had to beg her to come.” He nudged me. “Serena, what are you doing? Say hi to my cousin.”

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In my last life, I was canceled by the entire internet for refusing to star in a romance with the award-winning actress Juliana Vaughn. My agent abandoned me. The studio terminated my contract. With nowhere left to turn, I threw myself at the mercy of her biggest rival. I had no idea I was stepping into a nightmare that would swallow me whole, leading to a brutal death and an unmarked grave. So, in this life, the moment I saw Juliana again, I tossed my pride to the wind. All I wanted was to latch onto her and hold on for dear life. I just didn’t expect her to be so possessive. And more importantly, I had no idea she wasn’t straight. 1 “Juliana… don’t…” “Don’t what?” Juliana’s voice was a low purr. Her sly, almond-shaped eyes curved into a smile as she looked down at me, a full head shorter than her. She reached out, her long fingers closing around my chin, her thumb gently stroking my skin. My heart seized. I looked up at her, my mouth opening to protest, but she saw it coming. She cut me off, her voice smooth as silk. “Don’t forget, you’re the one who said I could do whatever I wanted with you. Are you already trying to back out?” Her eyes narrowed, a dangerous glint in their depths. “Or were you just playing me? You know what happened to the last person who tried to play me, don’t you?” “No, that’s not what I meant… I just… I wasn’t expecting this. No one ever told me… that you weren’t straight.” Goddammit! Straight girls have rights, too! I’m not a lesbian! “Is that so?” she murmured. Her fingers moved from my chin to my earlobe, toying with it gently. Her voice was soft, but it sent a chill down my spine. “Well, you know now. What are you thinking?” “I’m not thinking anything… I just kind of want to go home, Juliana… I’m not… into girls.” I was trembling, watching as the warmth drained from her expression. The industry rumors about her ruthlessness flashed through my mind. My body tensed, ready to make a break for it. But she read me like an open book. In one swift movement, she pushed me back onto the bed, leaning over me, her breath warm against my ear as she whispered, “You can be. You said it yourself, remember?” “I…” I stared up at her, helpless. Whatever I was about to say was swallowed by her kiss. My eyes flew open in disbelief. I raised my hands to push her away. Just as quickly, she pulled back, her voice cool and detached. “What’s wrong? Having second thoughts about the role?” I froze. Just like that, I didn’t dare move a muscle. Without that show, this second chance at life would be meaningless. 2 One month ago. “I’ve got a great project for you. It’s a co-starring role with the A-lister Juliana Vaughn. Interested?” My agent, Sarah, tossed a script onto the desk in front of me. “Yes! Of course, I’m interested! Let’s sign it right now, Sarah! This is an incredible opportunity!” I said, agreeing instantly without even looking at the script. Sarah raised a skeptical eyebrow. “What’s the rush? You don’t even care what it’s about?” “Nope. As long as I’m acting with her, I’d be lucky to get any role. We’re talking about Juliana Vaughn! The youngest actress to sweep the awards season. This is a dream come true!” I gushed, sounding like her number one fan. The only thing missing was a giant sign declaring my undying admiration. Her expression shifted, becoming more probing. “Even if it’s a sapphic romance?” My answer didn’t waver. “Of course. To work with someone as talented as Juliana, I’d agree to anything. I’m sure I’ll learn so much from her. Plus, a role like this could be my big break.” I was practically glowing, my cheeks flushed with excitement, looking for all the world like a lucky fan who had just won the lottery. Sarah had nothing more to say. She just told me to go home and wait for news. “Okay, Sarah, I’m heading out! Let me know when the audition is!” She nodded, still looking a bit bewildered. She knew that, up until this point, I had despised Juliana Vaughn. My sudden change of heart was, to her, completely baffling. And if this were my past life, I would have thought I was insane, too. 3 It wasn’t that I was excited to star in a lesbian drama with Juliana Vaughn. It was that I was terrified of the consequences of refusing. Because that’s what happened in my last life. On this very day, Sarah had approached me with the same offer. I had rejected it instantly. My hatred for Juliana was so intense that I’d launched into a tirade, saying a lot of ugly, unprofessional things. Someone recorded it and leaked it online. The backlash was immediate and brutal. I was dragged across every social media platform for being disrespectful, for being ungrateful. The comments were vicious. Sarah had demanded I issue a public apology. But I was stubborn and proud, convinced I had done nothing wrong. Seeing that I was a lost cause, Sarah dropped me. After weeks of relentless online harassment, the studio terminated my contract and blacklisted me. At my lowest point, I met Claire Donovan. Juliana’s arch-nemesis. The enemy of my enemy is my friend. I took that saying to heart and sought her out, foolishly believing she would welcome me with open arms, eager to team up against our common foe. Instead, I was used, turned into a plaything for her powerful friends, and ultimately discarded. My life ended in a brutal, lonely death. Perhaps fate decided I didn’t deserve to die like that. I was given a second chance. So this time, I had to seize this opportunity. It’s just a romance between two women. I can do that. And honestly, compared to Claire, Juliana was a goddamn saint. This time, I was going to get it right. I clenched my fists, a silent vow echoing in my heart. 4 When I got home, I immediately started researching Juliana. In my last life, I knew very little about her, other than that she was a brilliant actress with a terrible reputation. She was notoriously difficult to work with and had a penchant for tormenting newcomers. That wasn’t just a rumor. I had seen it with my own eyes. The strange thing was, the young actress she had tormented was the one who ended up co-starring with her in this very show. After the series wrapped, Juliana left the country and transitioned to international films. She never came back. The internet had a million theories. But the most persistent one was that the two of them had been in a relationship. I didn’t buy it. Based on how Juliana had treated her, it looked less like love and more like she wanted the girl dead. Soon enough, Sarah called with good news: the audition was set. Determined not to lose this chance, I memorized the script backward and forward. When it was my turn, I nailed it. The director was so impressed that he offered me the role on the spot. We signed the contract that day. Sarah finally looked relieved. She clapped me on the shoulder. “I knew you had it in you. That was a great performance. With time, you’re going to be a huge star.” “You’re exaggerating, Sarah,” I said with a bashful smile, but my eyes were drawn to a woman who had just stood up across the room. It was her—the young actress who had gotten the role in my past life. The one the tabloids claimed had grown up with Juliana. Juliana’s beauty had been apparent from a young age, and she was discovered and mentored by a famous director. This actress, Ava, was her childhood friend. While not as stunning as Juliana, she was still pretty. After Juliana made it big, she tried to recommend Ava to her director. But Ava took it as an act of pity. She lashed out at Juliana, and their friendship crumbled. They hadn’t seen each other since. Until this show brought them back together. When their history was dug up, the fans called it a story of a “broken mirror made whole again,” a testament to their enduring love. If I hadn’t seen what I saw in that parking garage all those years ago, I might have believed it too. Their backstory sounded like something out of a novel. But only Ava knew the cold, hard reality. I clenched my fists, took a deep breath, and walked over to her. I was about to introduce myself when she shot me a look of pure venom. “Shameless thief.” She spat the words and stalked away. I stood there, stunned. Sarah, who had overheard, looked at me, confused. “Do you know her?” “No,” I said, then quickly added, “I saw her at the audition. We were both trying out for the same part.” That seemed to satisfy Sarah. She told me not to worry about it. And I wouldn’t. I had more important things to do. Getting the role was just the first step. “Sarah,” I said, “I need you to do something for me.” “What is it?” “I need you to dig up some dirt on someone.” I leaned in and whispered a name in her ear. She gave me a long, searching look but left without another word. 5 We officially started filming two weeks later. On the day of the opening ceremony, Juliana arrived. She had the same unapproachable, icy beauty as I remembered, her deep-set eyes holding a cool distance that made you want to keep your distance. She was dressed simply in a grey long-sleeved shirt and blue jeans, her waist-length black hair falling like a silk curtain over her shoulders. The director was busy with the preparations. He greeted her warmly, and they chatted for a few moments before her agent came over and whispered something in her ear. I watched from the sidelines. When she was finally alone, I gathered my courage and approached her, a small gift box in my hands. “Juliana,” I said, forcing a polite smile to mask my churning stomach. “I’m Stella, your co-star for this project. I made these cookies for you. I hope you like them.” Her eyes swept over me, a calculating look on her face. “You bake?” I nodded. She stared at me for a few seconds, then took the box and popped a cookie into her mouth. I held my breath. I was confident in my baking skills, but I was terrified she wouldn’t like them. I needed to get on her good side. This was all part of the plan. “So? Do you like them?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper. She nodded. “They’re good,” she said, just as the director called for everyone to gather. I hesitated for a moment, then fell into step behind her. She glanced back at me but didn’t say anything, which I took as a good sign. The cookies must have worked. The ceremony was simple. After the director said a few auspicious words, the cast lit incense sticks for good luck. I stood next to Juliana, sneaking glances at her as she held the incense, her expression serene and devout. It reminded me of the rumors that she was a practicing Buddhist. Seeing her now, I believed it. I placed my incense in the burner and straightened up, only to find her staring at me. “What is it?” I mouthed, confused. She just shook her head and mouthed back, “Nothing.” But the intensity in her gaze said otherwise. She continued to stare at me until her agent pulled her away. Were the cookies that bad? To test my theory, I offered the remaining cookies to the director and producer. I even offered some to Juliana’s agent. As I did, I noticed Juliana watching from the side, her expression growing colder by the second. Oh god, does she think I’m trying to bribe everyone? My heart leaped into my throat. I quickly pulled back the box I was offering to her agent. “I’m so sorry,” I stammered, “these didn’t turn out right. I’ll make you a fresh batch next time.” The agent just stared at me, bewildered. I snuck a peek at Juliana. Her expression had softened slightly. Looks like I’d guessed right. A small smile touched my lips. When I looked back at her, she averted her gaze and walked away. 6 A few minutes later, the director approached me with a grim look on his face. “Stella, I’m so sorry,” he said, wringing his hands. “I’ve been thinking, and I just don’t think you’re right for this role. Maybe you should try looking for another project.” “What?” I was floored. “What do you mean? This morning you said I was born to play Lila. What changed?” “Just… consider me mistaken this morning,” he sighed. He saw the desperation in my eyes and glanced around. Seeing that no one was listening, he lowered his voice. “Look, it’s not my call. It’s Juliana. Did you do something to offend her? She came to me a few minutes ago and said she doesn’t want to work with you. She said it’s either you or her. The investors are all here for her, so my hands are tied. Maybe… maybe you should go talk to her. See if you can smooth things over.” He patted my shoulder sympathetically and left. I stood there, reeling, thinking back to Juliana’s strange behavior. It didn’t seem like she hated me. Why would she do this? I stared at the closed door of her dressing room. Finally, I took a deep breath and walked over. My hand was just inches from the door when it swung open. Juliana stood there, her stunning face half-hidden in the unlit room. She was backlit by the hallway light, a predator in the shadows, her eyes locked onto mine. A shiver went down my spine. Before I could say a word, she grabbed my arm and pulled me inside.

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1 In my past life, I ruined my family. My billionaire parents, bankrupt and broken, threw themselves from the roof of their skyscraper. My CEO brother was framed and jailed. My sister took her own life. Reborn, all they wanted was revenge. My brother’s eyes were dark with malice. “This time,” he vowed, “we’ll make her wish she were never born.” The next second, he heard my innermost thoughts. [My brother is so handsome, like a prince from a fairy tale! I have a fruit candy in my pocket. I want to give it to him. I wonder if he’d like it?] My brother froze. My sister offered a smile that was pure ice. “Little monsters are always good at pretending. Once we get her home, the truth will come out.” But I just gazed at my sister with pure adoration, clapping my tiny hands. [When sister dances, her skirt flies up like a fairy’s wings! I love it!] The family stared at my three-year-old self, a heavy silence falling over them. [Wait, was she really this cute as a child?] [How are we supposed to get revenge on… this?] … When the fabulously wealthy Vance family came to the orphanage, their eyes were all fixed on me, sharp and unyielding. I shrank back, my small hands twisting the hem of my worn-out dress. [Are these my long-lost family? They’re all so beautiful. I’m so happy!] [But… why do they look so angry? Is it because I don’t look like them?] My father gave me a single, cold glance. “Take her.” The orphanage director, Mama Ellen, beamed, her rough hand pulling me from the bench with a sense of urgency. “Nora, darling, quickly now! Go with your mommy and daddy! Your good life is just beginning!” I stumbled forward, dazed and confused. My mother flinched back half a step, as if I were carrying some deadly plague. My brother’s brow furrowed even deeper, the disgust in his eyes practically spilling over. Only my sister, Monica, extended a hand to me, her lips curved into a perfect, practiced smile. “Come now, little sister. Let’s go home.” Home? Hesitantly, I reached out with my own grimy little hand. [Am I finally going to have a home of my own? Sister’s hand is so white and clean. My hand is so dirty… will I get her dirty?] [But I’m so, so happy!] The very instant my fingertips were about to brush against hers… CRACK! The dim, yellow bulb overhead exploded without warning! A shower of fine glass rained down. “Ah!” my sister shrieked, snatching her hand back, her face draining of color. My father reacted instantly, pulling my mother and sister behind him as his sharp gaze locked onto me like a weapon. My brother, Liam, stepped forward, physically shielding them from me. “Hah! After all that nonsense you were just thinking, I almost believed you’d changed. But you’re the same as you were in our last life—a curse that exists only to harm us!” I stared at him, bewildered, my hands clutching my dress. “Brother,” I whispered, “I… I didn’t say anything.” All four of them looked at me, their faces a mask of stunned disbelief. “It’s my fault! That old light should have been replaced ages ago,” Mama Ellen explained frantically, pulling me close to check for injuries. “Nora, are you hurt?” A shard of glass had nicked my ankle. It stung. But I just stood there, frozen, staring at their guarded, hostile expressions. It felt like a piece of that glass had lodged itself in my chest, a dull, aching pain. [The light broke?] I thought, my mind a blank. [Was it because I reached for my sister?] [I’ve always been unlucky. Are they going to hate me because of this?] 2 A wave of overwhelming despair crashed over my tiny body. I thought, just like all the other times, my bad luck would get me abandoned again. But they still took me to the car. They still took me home. My brother, Liam, sat in the front passenger seat. He shot me a cold look through the rearview mirror. I flinched and immediately looked down, my fingers twisting the rough fabric of my dress. [Is brother looking at me?] [Does he think I’m dirty? Does he hate me?] “Yes, she is annoying,” Liam muttered under his breath. I looked up, confused, but he was already staring out the window, as if he hadn’t spoken at all. When we arrived at the house—no, the mansion—my eyes went wide, my mouth falling open slightly. [Wow.] [It’s just like the castle in a princess storybook!] The car glided to a stop under the grand portico of the main house. The driver quickly got out and opened the door. My father stepped out first, followed by my mother. Liam vaulted out gracefully, turning to help our sister. And that’s when it happened. As my sister, Monica, was getting out, the delicate satin ribbon on her shoe somehow snagged on a small, barely visible hook under the door, a hook meant to secure the floor mat. “Oh!” she cried out as her balance gave way, and she pitched forward. “Monica!” my mother screamed, her voice thin with terror. Liam moved like lightning, lunging forward and grabbing her arm just before her face could smash against the hard marble steps. Even so, the shock of the fall left Monica pale and trembling. She collapsed against her brother, her eyes instantly welling with tears. “What happened?!” my father, Marcus Vance, demanded, his voice sharp. The driver, sweating profusely, knelt to inspect the car. “Sir! It’s this hook for the mat. It’s never exposed like this! I don’t know how…” Inevitably, everyone’s gaze fell on me as I was the last one to get out of the car. I stood frozen, my heart pounding with fear. [Why is sister crying? Seeing her cry makes me so sad. But why is everyone looking at me? Did I make her fall?] My father’s heavy gaze rested on me for a few seconds. “Forget it. Let’s go inside. Mr. Kingston, take her to her room.” The butler stepped forward. “This way, little miss.” I was given a room at the far end of the third-floor corridor. It was large and beautifully furnished, with a soft white rug, a corner piled high with stuffed animals, and a large bay window overlooking the garden. But it was too empty, too quiet, and too far away. A long, silent hallway separated me from my parents’ master suite, from my brother’s and sister’s rooms. Mr. Kingston’s voice was polite but distant. “Little miss, this will be your room. The washroom is over there. Someone will call you for meals. You are not to wander the house without permission, and you are especially not to disturb Mr. and Mrs. Vance, or the young master and miss.” He then exited, closing the door softly behind him. Click. The sound echoed in the silence. It felt like I was the only person left in the world. [Don’t wander… don’t disturb them…] [Is it because… if I get close to them, I’ll bring them bad luck?] Used to being bullied at the orphanage, I buried my face in the thick duvet and began to cry, muffling the sobs. I scrubbed at my eyes with the back of my hand, but the tears just kept coming. No! Stop crying! Crying doesn’t help. It only makes people hate you more. I sniffled, forcing the tears back. 3 My gaze fell on the small bag I’d brought from the orphanage. I went over and opened it. Inside, aside from a few old clothes, was a dented plastic water bottle with a little yellow duck printed on it. I picked it up and hugged it to my chest. It was a gift from a kind older girl at the orphanage—my only possession. [Mama Ellen said drinking warm water is good for you. Daddy was coughing the whole way here in the car…] There was still some warm water left in my bottle. This tiny, fledgling desire to do something, anything, for him temporarily overshadowed my fear and sorrow. Summoning every ounce of courage I had, I clutched my little yellow duck bottle and carefully turned the doorknob. The hallway was carpeted, and my footsteps made no sound. Holding my breath, I tiptoed towards what I hoped was the master bedroom. My heart pounded like a drum. Finally, I reached the door. It was slightly ajar, a warm light spilling out from within, along with the murmur of voices. “It’s too bizarre! I swear I heard her talking, but I watched her mouth, and it didn’t move. Are we… are we hearing her thoughts?” That was Liam’s voice, full of disbelief. Monica’s voice was calm. “And what if we are? You, of all people, should know what she’s really like.” My mother, Isabelle, agreed. “I’m telling you, she’s playing games. It’s just another one of her demonic little tricks!” [Who are they talking about? Is it some super-duper evil villain?] I raised a tiny, indignant fist. Then I heard my father cough again. Wiping my sweaty palms on my pants, I gently pushed the door open a little wider and peeked inside. The whole family was sitting there, a united front. Liam looked up and saw me, a smirk twisting his lips. “Well, speak of the devil.” I offered him a sweet smile. [My brother is so handsome, just like a prince in a fairy tale! I’m so lucky to have such a handsome brother. Everyone must be so jealous of me!] Liam, hearing my praise, looked flustered for a second. I turned my attention to my father. He was looking at a document, his expression grim, and he let out another small cough. My fear forgotten, I clutched my little bottle like a treasure and scurried towards him on my short legs. “Daddy! Water! It’s warm!” I shouted, trying my best to lift the bottle up to him. But in my haste, my foot caught on the edge of the plush rug. “Whoa!” I yelped as the little yellow duck bottle flew from my hands. CRASH! The water splashed directly onto the important-looking documents in front of my father. “What do you think you’re doing?” he demanded, his eyes like chips of ice. “It’s warm water,” I whimpered, my voice trembling. “For Daddy to drink…” “For me to drink?” His gaze turned lethal. He shot up from his chair, snatching the bottle away from me with a look of utter disgust. “Who knows what kind of filth you put in this!” “Didn’t manage to poison us in the last life, so you’re trying a new method this time? Why? Why, after being given a second chance, are you still so wicked!” Tears streamed down my face, hot and unstoppable. [There’s no filth… it’s clean, warm water. Mama Ellen said warm water helps a cough. I don’t want Daddy to cough. My bottle is clean…] My father’s hand, which had been raised as if to strike me, froze in mid-air. He stared at my tear-streaked face, at eyes that held nothing but hurt and confusion, not a hint of malice or calculation. Finally, with a deep, frustrated sigh, he lowered his hand. He didn’t hit me. But somehow, I felt he was even angrier than before. 4 A few days later, the family had guests coming over. My mother had laid out a breathtakingly beautiful dress, covered in shimmering sequins. [Mommy would look like a fairy princess in that dress!] [Oh! One of the little stars is dusty! It’s not shiny anymore!] My sharp eyes spotted a single sequin near the hem that had a speck of dust on it. Mama Ellen had always said that beautiful things must be cherished; they weren’t beautiful anymore if they were dirty. I felt my pocket. Inside was my small handkerchief, washed so many times it was pale, but it was clean. I took a deep breath. The moment my mother left the room to choose her accessories, I scurried over, knelt down, and began to gently wipe the dusty sequin with my handkerchief. “What are you doing!” “My dress! What are you doing to my dress!” My mother’s voice was shrill with fury. “I knew it! Are you trying to ruin my dress on purpose?” The shock sent me tumbling backward onto the floor, the little handkerchief falling from my grasp. My mother was trembling with rage, about to scream for the staff to drag me away and lock me in my room. [No, I was just trying to wipe the sequin clean for Mommy. The handkerchief is clean, Mama Ellen washed it for me…] She stared down in disbelief at the tiny, terrified child cowering on the floor. Then she looked at the hem of her dress where I had wiped it. The dust was gone. And the little handkerchief, though old, was indeed spotless. A wave of profound absurdity washed over my mother. She opened her mouth to say something scathing, but in the end, all that came out was a frustrated sigh. “Just stay away from my things!” After the incidents in the study and the dressing room, the atmosphere in the house shifted. The four of them would sometimes gather in hushed tones, discussing things I didn’t understand, using words like “inner voice,” “coincidence,” and “her act is too convincing.” Eventually, they reached an unspoken agreement: as long as the little jinx stayed in her lane and didn’t cause trouble, they could coexist peacefully. The notice for my siblings’ school trip to the amusement park was stuck to the refrigerator. It was a colorful flyer with a huge Ferris wheel and a carousel. Every time I passed it, I would stop, my feet seemingly nailed to the floor, and stare at it with a secret, greedy longing. [An amusement park! So many colorful houses! And horses that go round and round! And big balloons that float in the sky!] [I wish I could go! Just once…] My mother, Isabelle, happened to catch my expression. The look in my eyes—a pure, timid yearning—pricked her like a tiny needle. “Ahem.” She cleared her throat. Her tone was still cold, but her words took an unexpected turn. “Well, since you’re living here now… Monica, Liam, take her with you tomorrow. It’ll keep her from causing trouble around the house.”

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My Omega husband is the main character in a popular harem novel. Practically every desirable Alpha in the story is in love with him. The handsome, wealthy, aloof CEO; the wild, rebellious trust-fund kid; the gentle, devoted superstar… Without exception, they are all hopelessly devoted to my husband. And me? I’m just a plain, unremarkable Beta. In the story, I’m known as “the clueless husband.” My only purpose is to add a little spice to their thrilling affair, a background character they can cheat on for an extra dash of excitement. So, it turns out I’m the disposable nice guy trope? 1 After I took a nasty fall down the stairs, a flood of unfamiliar memories washed over me. That’s when I learned the truth: I was nothing more than the cannon fodder husband in a trashy romance novel. So, I immediately handed my husband, Jason, a set of divorce papers. When the Omega saw the words on the page, his fair, beautiful face filled with confusion and helplessness. “Josh… w-why do you want a divorce?” Jason’s voice trembled, and his lovely almond-shaped eyes welled up with tears. “Did I do something wrong?” After all, he was the man I had moved heaven and earth to win over, my one true love. Being his simp had become second nature. Seeing him look so pitiful, a familiar pang of sympathy shot through my chest. I instinctively wanted to reach out and wipe away the tears at the corners of his eyes. No, stop it! Josh, if you feel sorry for him now, who’s going to feel sorry for you later? The thought of not only being cheated on mercilessly but also being thrown into the ocean to feed the fishes by his jealous Alpha suitors sent a violent shiver down my spine. The fog in my brain cleared instantly. “You didn’t do anything wrong…” At this point in the story, Jason hadn’t even met the three main Alphas yet, so I couldn’t technically fault him for anything. I had to make something up. “I just… don’t feel the same way anymore.” “Let’s just end things amicably.” At my words, Jason began to cry even harder, his voice choked with sobs. “You swore to me! You promised you would make me happy for the rest of my life!” “Are you going back on your promise now?” His accusation made me feel a pang of guilt, and I nervously adjusted the black-framed glasses on my face. Everyone who knew we were married thought I was a classic case of punching way above my weight. After all, in a world where Omegas made up only six percent of the population, they were infinitely more precious than a dime-a-dozen Beta like me. And Jason wasn’t just any Omega; he was stunningly beautiful, came from a wealthy family, and had a gentle temperament. He was the perfect partner. I’d fallen for him the first moment I saw him in college. To win him over, I’d become the ultimate simp, catering to his every whim, always there for him, no matter what. But Jason always kept me at arm’s length—never rejecting me, but never accepting me either. I spent three years like that, and by the time we graduated, he still hadn’t agreed to be with me. I was crushed and on the verge of giving up when, out of the blue, he contacted me. I rushed to the coffee shop, my heart soaring, only to be met by the sight of his beautiful face, streaked with tears. “Josh, what am I going to do?” he cried, his eyes red and swollen like a terrified little rabbit. “My parents are forcing me into an arranged marriage! They want to marry me off to some sixty-year-old Alpha for a business deal!” The sight broke my heart. I immediately grabbed his hand. “Jason, come with me.” “I’ll make you happy!” And just like that, we eloped. I married the Omega I had dreamed of for years. I was, for a time, incredibly proud. In college, the line of suitors for Jason was endless. I was the least significant of them all. No one could believe that this dream man, pursued by countless Alphas, would end up choosing me. After all, I was just a plain Beta. My looks, my charisma, my talents… everything about me was average. I was an orphan with no family to my name. I thought I was the ultimate success story of the simp who got the girl. I never imagined the storm that was brewing, a storm that would turn my world upside down. 2 “I will never divorce you!” For the first time ever, Jason lost his temper. With red-rimmed eyes, he tore the divorce papers to shreds, then stormed into his room and locked the door, refusing to answer no matter how much I knocked. This was not how I expected things to go. According to the novel, Jason had only married me to escape his arranged marriage. He didn’t actually have any real feelings for me. He had always used the excuse that he had a “gland problem” to keep me from getting too close. We’d been sleeping in separate rooms for the entire year we’d been married. He found me, a Beta, to be dull and uninteresting, a far cry from his ideal partner. Logically, he should have been thrilled that I was the one initiating the divorce. So why was he fighting it so desperately? My head started to ache. The next morning, his door was still shut. I tried knocking, but got no response. Defeated, I gave up. After a quick breakfast, I headed to work as usual. I had barely settled at my desk when someone handed me a file. “Mr. Evans, could you please take this development proposal to Mr. Thorne for his signature?” “Sure.” I nodded and took the file up to the CEO’s office on the top floor. After a soft knock, a cold, sharp voice answered. “Come in.” The man behind the desk had deep-set eyes, a high-bridged nose, and a jawline so sharp it could cut glass. No one could deny that he was an exceptionally handsome Alpha. But seeing that familiar face again, something inside me had changed. The reason was simple. My boss, Damian Thorne, was the first male lead in this ridiculous novel. He was the first bastard to start this whole mess. The thought made me grind my teeth. My gaze toward him was now tinged with resentment. Seriously? I’m slaving away for you at this company, and you’re plotting to cheat with my husband?! Damian’s brow furrowed slightly when he saw it was me. He took the file from my hand, his voice cool. “Is my schedule for tonight prepared?” I nodded. “Yes, it’s all set.” He gave a slight nod, then after a moment’s pause, asked, as if it were an afterthought, “How are you and Jason doing lately?” I forced a polite smile. “We’re doing well. Thank you for asking, Mr. Thorne.” Damian and Jason were high school classmates. I’d only gotten this job at Thorne Industries because of Jason’s connection to him. But I never, ever suspected that this asshole had been secretly in love with my husband the whole time. No wonder he always looked at me funny, frowning whenever he saw me as if I were a piece of trash. It was the classic look of a man staring down his rival. 3 That evening, Damian had a charity auction to attend at six. As his secretary, I had to accompany him. Before the auction, there was a dinner gala. The hall glittered with chandeliers, filled with the city’s elite. Damian was his usual cool and composed self, exuding the powerful aura unique to a top-tier Alpha. I trailed silently behind him, but then I caught sight of someone out of the corner of my eye, holding a glass of champagne and slowly making his way toward us. “Long time no see…” The newcomer wore a perfectly tailored white suit that highlighted his tall, lean frame, making him stand out in the crowd. I recognized the handsome face, a regular on the big screen, and my heart skipped a beat. This was none other than the third male lead of the novel—the superstar, Elias Vance. Elias was smiling at Damian, his amber eyes glittering like honey under the chandelier lights. “Mr. Thorne, I hear you’ve been seeing the Li family’s Omega recently.” “It sounds like… wedding bells are in your future.” Damian’s brow twitched, and his tone was icy. “That’s none of your business.” The Thorne family had been actively searching for a suitable partner for Damian. But I knew that in the near future, after Damian got together with Jason, all these potential fiancées would become nothing but a distant memory. Elias was all smiles, while Damian’s face was so cold you could chip ice off it. Anyone could see they didn’t get along. I wasn’t surprised. I’d heard they were sworn enemies. The Thorne and Vance families were old friends, and Damian and Elias had grown up together. But their personalities clashed, and they’d never seen eye to eye. In the future, they would become bitter rivals over Jason, fighting practically every time they met. “The auction is about to begin. Mr. Evans, let’s go.” Damian clearly had no intention of engaging with Elias and turned to leave. I nodded, but couldn’t resist a glance back. Elias didn’t seem bothered by Damian’s cold shoulder, the smile never leaving his lips. But his eyes, fixed on Damian’s retreating back, held a dark, almost imperceptible glint of animosity. 4 After the auction, I called my best friend, Mark, to see if he wanted to grab a drink. “Josh, have you lost your damn mind?!” At the bar, Mark stared at me in disbelief when I told him I wanted to divorce Jason. “Jason was the most sought-after guy in our entire university, a total heartthrob!” “So many people were dying to be with him, and you, you lucky bastard, you want to divorce him?!” Mark looked at me, confused. “You’re not even drunk. Why are you talking crazy?” Of course, I couldn’t tell him about the novel. He’d think I was insane. He eyed me suspiciously. “Don’t tell me… you’re cheating on him, aren’t you?” “Get out of here!” I shot back, exasperated. “Am I that kind of guy?” “I just… I just don’t think we’re a good match.” To my surprise, Mark didn’t argue with that. “You know… I’m not entirely surprised you feel that way,” he said with a sigh. “We Betas don’t have pheromones. When an Omega goes into heat, we can’t do anything to help. Over time, it’s bound to cause problems in a relationship.” “Look around us. How many Betas do you know who actually make it work with an Omega long-term? Most Omegas might date a Beta for a while, but in the end, they almost always end up with an Alpha.” Mark sighed again. “After all, Omegas and Alphas are… biologically hardwired for each other.” His words hit me hard. I fell silent. He was right. In the novel, the first time Jason betrays our marriage is during his heat, when he runs into Damian. They can’t control themselves, and… well, that’s when it all starts. Bound by a sense of guilt, Jason feels bad about it at first. But he never had strong feelings for me to begin with. In the end, he can’t resist his Omega nature and chooses an Alpha as his partner. It’s true what they say: no good ever comes from being a simp. A wave of bitterness washed over me. I picked up my glass and downed it in one gulp. The cool liquid seemed to soothe some of the turmoil in my chest. I waved at the bartender. “Another brandy!” 5 Two drinks later, I was feeling unsteady on my feet. As I stumbled toward the restroom, a cloyingly sweet smell of chocolate hit me. Why does the restroom smell like chocolate? Before I could figure it out, a tall, slender figure lunged at me, pinning me against the wall. In that instant, the chocolate scent intensified, thick and overwhelming, wrapping around me like a suffocating blanket. Even through my clothes, I could feel the searing heat radiating from his body. The alcohol had slowed my reflexes. I stood there, dazed, for a few seconds before I slowly lifted my head. The man had a wild mane of blond hair, sharp features, and a rebellious air about him. Seeing his familiar face, I frowned. “You… Zane?!” Zane was a younger student from my university and my sworn enemy. We were both chasing after Jason back then, and we couldn’t stand each other. He used his family’s money to make my life miserable, always sneering at me with a condescending smirk whenever he saw me. I hated his arrogant attitude. What I hated even more was that Zane was the second male lead in the novel. The more I thought about it, the angrier I got. A jerk like him gets to be with Jason, while I get thrown away like trash in the end?! “Get off me!” I snarled, trying to shove him away. But he effortlessly grabbed my wrists. The motion sent a jolt through me, clearing some of the alcoholic haze from my mind. That’s when I noticed that something was seriously wrong with him. His breathing was ragged, his eyes glazed over. He lowered his head, his lips parting, the warm breath from his mouth getting closer and closer to my neck. “Oh, crap!” This bastard was in a rut! “Are you blind?! Look at me!” I yelled, struggling against his grip. “I’m a Beta!” He just scowled in frustration, slamming my hands against the wall above my head before lowering his head again. Betas have glands, but they’re undeveloped and don’t produce pheromones. Without the scent to guide him, Zane couldn’t find my gland. So, in a fit of rage, he just bit down hard on my neck. The moment his sharp canines pierced my skin, my world went white. It hurts! The sharp pain sent a surge of adrenaline through me. I found a burst of strength from somewhere, and seeing an opening, I drove my fist hard into his stomach. He grunted, his grip finally loosening. Before he could recover, I scrambled out of the restroom and fled. It was midnight by the time I got home. The living room was dark, and I assumed Jason was already asleep. But when I flipped on the light, I saw a familiar figure sitting bolt upright on the sofa. I instinctively clapped a hand over the wound on my neck and forced a sheepish smile. “Why are you still up so late?” 6 On the sofa, Jason was staring at me, his gaze cold and piercing. His long, dark hair was loose, cascading down his back, which only served to accentuate his snow-white skin and ruby-red lips. Under the harsh, cold light, he radiated an eerie, chilling beauty, like a dangerous siren. Seeing his dark expression, I swallowed nervously. “What’s… what’s wrong?” Jason stood up, his face a mask of ice. He always used to lower his head in front of me, projecting an image of gentleness and submission. It was only now, belatedly, that I realized—he was a good half a head taller than me. “Who were you with tonight?” “Who else?” I rubbed my nose, feeling a strange sense of guilt. “Just Mark…” “You’re lying!” Jason’s eyes flashed with anger. “Mark isn’t an Alpha! You reek of some disgusting Alpha’s scent!” “Those are clearly Alpha pheromones!” I felt a flush of embarrassment. “Jason, let me explain…” But his face darkened further. He yanked my hand away from my neck. When he saw the bite mark, his entire body began to tremble, and the expression on his face was more terrifying than anything I had ever seen. “Josh!” “Did you sleep with an Alpha?!” His words were so blunt, so humiliating, that I exploded. “What the hell are you talking about?!” But Jason wasn’t listening. He seemed to have lost his mind with rage. He dragged me into the bedroom and threw me onto the bed, pinning me down. It was only then that I realized how strong he was, nothing like the delicate Omega I had always believed him to be. “Are you crazy?!” I yelled, trying to push him off. But he held my hands down, and I couldn’t move an inch. He traced the bite mark on my neck, his touch surprisingly gentle, but his voice was chilling. “A place I’ve been desperately holding back from, a place I couldn’t bear to touch… you just let someone else have it so easily?” A dangerous aura filled the room. Alarm bells screamed in my head, and my body began to tremble under his touch. “Honey, please, listen to me. It’s just a misunderstanding.” Jason placed a finger on my lips, silencing me. His voice was a soft whisper. “Shh…” “I don’t want to hear your excuses.” He was smiling, but his eyes were like chips of ice. He gripped my chin, forcing me to look at him. “Since you say it’s just a misunderstanding, then let me…” “…conduct a thorough inspection.” 7 Inspection? What kind of inspection? Before I could process his words, a warm pressure covered my lips. “Mmph!” My eyes flew open. Was Jason… forcibly kissing me? As our lips and tongues tangled, the potent, intoxicating scent of tequila slammed into me, wrapping around me with an aggressive, domineering force. Was this… Jason’s pheromone scent? I was shocked. Because Jason had always claimed to have a gland problem, I had never smelled his pheromones before. I’d always imagined they would be soft and elegant, just like the gentle persona he presented to the world. I never expected them to be so…domineering. Is this really the kind of scent a sweet, gentle Omega is supposed to have? I was suddenly very confused. Jason seemed to sense my distraction. He nipped my lip in annoyance, and his hands began to roam over my body, finally settling on a very… private area. Wait. Something is very, very wrong here… Oh my God, is he trying to top me?! Panic seized me. No, no, no! As a Beta, I absolutely could not let an Omega dominate me! If word got out, I’d never be able to show my face in public again! With that thought, I tried to sit up and break free. But in the next instant, a strange, searing heat erupted from the gland at the back of my neck, spreading rapidly through my entire body. What the hell is happening?! Why was I, a Beta, experiencing symptoms similar to an Omega’s heat? I froze, completely stunned. My already foggy mind grew even hazier with the rising heat. Under the lamplight, Jason’s beautiful face seemed to become even more alluring. “Jason…” I managed to choke out his name, my throat dry and tight. Deep inside, a hollow, unfamiliar ache began to grow, an ache that was almost unbearable. But just then, Jason stopped. He simply watched me, a playful, cruel smile on his lips as he took in my pathetic state. “Tell me,” he purred, “do you want me to continue?” How had I never realized what a sadist he was? This was no gentle little rabbit. This was a calculating, vicious wolf. “Go to hell!” I snarled, glaring at him, refusing to back down. “If you can’t get the job done, I’ll just go find someone else!” “You dare!” My words clearly hit a nerve. He yanked me into his arms. “I was going to be gentle with you…” he hissed, then lowered his head, his sharp canines aimed directly at my gland. “Ah—!” My eyes shot open, pupils contracting in agony. Through my blurred vision, I could see Jason’s head buried in the crook of my neck. I don’t know how long it lasted. When he finally lifted his head, his lips were stained with a shocking smear of red. He stroked the wound on the back of my neck, his expression one of pure satisfaction. “The mark…” he whispered, his voice hoarse. “…is finally complete.”

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When my life became a story, I knew nothing about the plot except for my name. I woke up one day inside a novel I now know is called The CEO’s Crimson Contract. For the longest time, I was convinced I was the heroine. It made a perfect, beautiful sense. The protagonist’s name was Aurora, and my name—Elora—was its echo. The day I met my husband, Alaric, I fell in love so instantly and completely that I was sure I was the luckiest woman alive. But three years into our marriage, an intern named Aurora started at his company. And that’s when the voice in my head told me I’d gotten it all wrong. The heroine wasn’t the echo. It was the other way around. I wasn’t the star of the show. I was just the warm-up act. The disposable first wife. … [Elora, it’s time to face reality.] For the three months since Aurora had first walked through the doors of Aethelgard Industries, that voice—the one that called itself the System—had been a constant, cruel whisper in the back of my mind. [You aren’t the heroine, ‘Aurora.’ You’re the forgotten side character, ‘Elora.’ The story is correcting itself. The hero is destined to fall for the heroine. You are destined to be discarded.] I ignored it, just as I had every other time. I focused on the task at hand: arranging candles for the third-anniversary dinner I was making for Alaric and me. I wasn’t the heroine, maybe. But three years of marriage couldn’t be a lie. The feeling was real, even if the story wasn’t mine. When I first arrived in this world, I was just a grad student studying abroad. The moment I saw him, my heart simply gave itself away, no questions asked. I pursued him with a single-mindedness that felt like fate. And fate, it seemed, answered. One afternoon, in a grimy alley near my apartment, I found him. He was bleeding, weakened, leaning against a dumpster as if his strength had evaporated. He’d been shot with some kind of specialized silver round. The sunlight, slanting between the buildings, was like a physical poison against his skin. I didn’t hesitate. I threw my trench coat over him, shielding him with my own body as I frantically called an Uber, getting him to the private, unmarked address he’d managed to whisper. To repay what he called a life debt, Alaric offered me a blood bond and, with it, a marriage contract. After the wedding, he remained distant, a man carved from beautiful, cold marble. But his actions… his actions were warm. When my period cramps were agonizing, he would disappear into his high-tech private medical lab and return with a small IV bag of dark, rich fluid. He’d call it a “family nutritional supplement,” his touch gentle as he hooked it to my vein and let it drip, slowly, into me. The relief was immediate, a wave of warmth and strength that washed away the pain. Once, I mindlessly liked a picture on Instagram—a box of macarons from a century-old patisserie in Paris. The next day, he returned from a business trip to New York. Sitting on the table of his private jet was that exact same box, the confections still impossibly fresh. It was in these moments that I learned to read his love language. His affection wasn’t in words, but in quiet, overwhelming gestures. He was a man whose actions screamed the devotion his lips would never speak. I didn’t believe a heart like that could change. After placing the last fork, I glanced at the ornate clock on the wall. 8:23 PM. He should have been home from the office by now. Usually, he was. I called him. “Honey, what time will you be home tonight?” There was a pause on the other end, a pocket of silence that felt too heavy. Then, his voice, a low, magnetic rumble that always made my heart skip. “Elora. I’m sorry. Something’s come up. I won’t be home for dinner. You should eat without me.” Each word was a hammer blow against my chest. My fingers tightened on my phone. “Do you remember what today is…?” Before I could finish, the line went dead. He’d hung up. A cold dread coiled in my stomach. And then, the System’s voice returned, slick and venomous. [Do you want to see what your husband is doing right now?] I didn’t. God, I didn’t. But the System never gave me a choice. An image flooded my mind, vivid and unwelcome. Alaric was in the emergency room of the city’s most expensive private hospital. He was kneeling, his movements impossibly gentle as he massaged the swollen ankle of a young woman on the hospital bed. It was Aurora. And in his silver-grey eyes—eyes that were always so cool and distant with me—was a universe of raw, unguarded worry. A thousand silver needles pierced my heart all at once. The pain was everywhere. The System’s voice was as cold as a morgue slab. [Do you see? The hero’s heart is already turning toward the heroine. If you refuse to let go, the plot will ensure you end up dead in the street. And your family in the human world? They’ll meet with unfortunate accidents as well…] My hand clenched into a fist, my nails digging into my palm. I bit down on my lip, hard, just to keep myself from trembling. A consequence like that… Could I really afford to bear it? Chapter 2 Alaric didn’t come home until the next morning. He walked in and slipped off his jacket, holding it out to me with the easy familiarity of routine. I saw the exhaustion etched into the lines of his face. My eyes fell to his cuff, and I froze. A small, distinct coffee stain marred the crisp white fabric. I frowned. “What’s this?” He followed my gaze, his tone flat. “Aurora spilled it yesterday when she was bringing me a file. She twisted her ankle in the process, so I took her to the hospital.” He paused, then added, “I only learned recently that she’s the daughter of an old family associate. I owe her adoptive father a great debt.” We had known each other for five years, been married for three. It was the most he had ever said to me at one time. And it was all about another woman. When the System had threatened me, I’d brushed it off as a bad dream. When he missed our anniversary dinner, I’d chosen to believe him. But now, seeing the flicker of unguarded focus in his eyes as he spoke of Aurora—that shattered every last bit of my denial. I looked down, my fingers clenching and unclenching at my sides. After a long silence, I finally managed to speak, my voice barely a whisper. “Alaric, I don’t like her. Can you transfer her to another department?” “No.” The refusal was instant and absolute. “I made a promise to her father. It’s a promise I have to keep.” “I’m just asking you to move her, not fire her,” I pressed, hearing the desperate edge in my own voice. “You can’t even do that?” His face darkened. “Elora, she’s my executive assistant, that’s all. Are you always this petty? Does this mean I can’t hire any female employees from now on?” Petty. It was the first time he had ever used a word like that for me. In that moment, the absurdity of my situation crashed down on me. I had endured three months of psychological torture from the System, clinging to the belief that our love was real, that he was worth fighting for. How ridiculous it all seemed now. I said nothing more, just silently took his jacket to the laundry room. But the coffee stain felt like a stain on our marriage, and no matter how hard I scrubbed, it wouldn’t come out. I was about to throw the ruined jacket into the trash when a small velvet box tumbled out of the inside pocket. My breath caught. It was an emerald necklace, one I’d admired in a shop window months ago. Just then, two strong arms wrapped around me from behind. Alaric, fresh from the shower, pressed his cool skin against my back. “It’s your anniversary gift, Elora. I didn’t forget.” He smelled of pine and cold air, the same scent as my own body wash. He placed a soft kiss on my forehead. “I’m heading to the office. We’ll celebrate properly tonight.” My traitorous heart fluttered, the hope I was trying so hard to kill stirring back to life. But as I was straightening his tie, his phone rang. It was Aurora. “Mr. Aethelgard, I… I think I need to resign…” I was standing so close I could hear every word. I could hear the manufactured tears in her voice. “Everyone at the office is talking,” she sobbed. “They’re saying I’m trying to break up your marriage. I don’t know how a rumor like that could have started, but I can’t stay here anymore…” “Don’t worry,” Alaric soothed her, his voice low and reassuring. “I’ll take care of it.” He ended the call and his eyes, now cool and laced with suspicion, settled on me. I recoiled as if struck. “You think I did that?” He didn’t deny it. He grabbed my wrist, his grip like steel. “You spread those rumors just because I wouldn’t transfer her? You’re coming with me to the office right now to clear this up.” He dragged me out of the apartment, ignoring my struggles. The moment we walked onto the executive floor, a hush fell. Employees, once busy at their desks, now shot us veiled, curious glances. Aurora appeared, her eyes red and tear-filled, limping dramatically toward me. “Mrs. Aethelgard, I swear, there is nothing going on between Mr. Aethelgard and me. He didn’t come home yesterday because he was taking me to the hospital, but only because I sprained my ankle…” A cold laugh escaped my lips. “Are you telling me he’s the only person you know in this entire city? You had to bother him for something so minor? He’s your boss, not your father. If every employee with a scraped knee ran to him for help, he might as well shut down the company and open a daycare.” Aurora faltered, her eyes darting to Alaric for support. Alaric’s brow furrowed. “That’s enough. Aurora is different. I made a promise to take care of her.” The protectiveness in his voice was a physical blow. I stared at him, a bitter taste filling my mouth. Five years, and this was the first time I had ever seen him defend another woman against me. In front of his entire executive team, he stood tall, his expression severe. “Miss Aurora is the daughter of a dear friend. I have a responsibility to look after her. I don’t want to hear any more of these ridiculous rumors in this office. Is that clear?” I stood beside him, a statue of a jealous wife on public trial, enduring the pitying, contemptuous stares of everyone in the room. A humorless smile touched my lips. Right. Aurora had done nothing wrong. I was the one at fault. My only mistake was believing our love was indestructible. Chapter 3 After the spectacle at the office, Alaric had the driver take me home. I sat on the edge of our bed for a long time, staring into space. My gaze drifted to a photo frame on the nightstand. It was a picture of me with my family—my real family, from the world I’d left behind. Mom, Dad, and my older brother, all of us smiling under a summer sun. The System’s threat echoed in my mind, and with it came the horrifying visions it had shown me. My mother, her gentle smile frozen on her face, hit by a speeding car. My father, a man of quiet dignity, falling from the top of a skyscraper. My brother, his bright, easy grin gone forever, stabbed to death in a dark alley, his body left unrecognizable. The air in my lungs turned to poison. I couldn’t breathe. After what felt like an eternity, I did something I had never done before. I reached out with my mind, calling to the voice. “System. You want me to leave him, don’t you? I’ll do it. I’ll do whatever you want. But you have to send me back. Send me home to my own world.” The System agreed. It informed me that in fifteen days, my time in this body would come to an end. I was going to “die.” I changed my clothes and went for a walk. With the little time I had left, I called my family. I told them I was going on a long trip, somewhere remote. I told them I loved them. It was the only goodbye I could give. That evening, Alaric picked me up from the park as if nothing had happened. On the drive home, I didn’t chatter away like I usually did, filling the space with stories about my day. The car was filled with a heavy, suffocating silence. He glanced over at me several times. “Are you still angry about this morning?” I shook my head. “No.” He hesitated. “There’s something else I need to tell you. Today, Aurora—” The moment I heard her name, a curtain fell in my mind. I couldn’t hear another word about her. “I’m tired,” I cut him off. “Let’s talk when we get home.” But when we walked through the front door, I saw her. Aurora was sitting on our sofa. And she was wearing Alaric’s silk dress shirt. He came in behind me. “This is what I was trying to tell you in the car.” I stood frozen in the entryway, my nails digging so deeply into my palms I was sure I’d drawn blood. Aurora immediately put on a frightened, timid expression. “Mrs. Aethelgard, please don’t misunderstand! My apartment was burglarized, and Mr. Aethelgard said… he said he owed my father a great debt. He’s letting me stay here until I can find a safe place.” She gestured to the shirt. “All my clothes were ruined. I knew you disliked me, so I didn’t dare borrow anything of yours. I could only borrow one of Mr. Aethelgard’s.” Alaric saw the look on my face and gently took my arm, guiding me toward the dining table. “Aurora cooked dinner for us—” He stopped short. We both stared at the table. Every single dish was a blackened, charred mess. Aurora blinked innocently. “I wanted to do something nice for you both, but I’m just so clumsy…” I took a deep breath, about to say something—anything—but Alaric spoke first, already forgiving her on my behalf. “It’s fine,” he said, his voice soft. “Elora doesn’t mind.” And just like that, all the words I might have said died in my throat. Without another sound, I turned and walked to the bedroom. Chapter 4 Alaric followed me in a moment later. He closed the door behind him, his voice low. “You and Aurora just got off on the wrong foot. Once you get to know her, you’ll see she’s actually quite sweet, just a little clumsy. Now that she’s living here, it’s a good chance for you two to connect.” A suffocating pressure built in my chest. My nails bit deeper into my palms. How funny. My own husband, telling me to my face that another woman was sweet. I looked at him, at the face that had once been the center of my universe, and I finally, finally made my decision. Taking a steadying breath, I met his eyes. “Alaric. Let’s get a divorce.” His expression instantly turned to thunder. “What did you just say?” “I’m not willing to stay married to a man on the verge of an affair,” I said, my voice eerily calm. His eyes were wide with disbelief. “I haven’t done anything with Aurora! What is wrong with you?” A bitter laugh escaped me. “Any other woman so much as brushes against your sleeve and you throw the jacket away. But Aurora? She can spill coffee all over you. She can demand your help for a twisted ankle, and you not only oblige, you personally massage her foot!” I took a step closer, my voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “Alaric, can you look me in the eye and tell me you feel nothing for her?” He flinched, his gaze faltering. For a moment, he was utterly silent. Just then, Aurora’s voice called from the living room. “Mr. Aethelgard? Could you come help me with something?” His eyes flickered with an emotion I couldn’t name. He looked at me, his jaw tight, but he offered no explanation. No defense. Finally, he spoke, his voice rough. “Elora, marriage isn’t a game. You can’t be this irresponsible.” He paused, his tone softening almost imperceptibly. “I’ll sleep in the study tonight. You need to calm down and think clearly. I don’t want to hear you say that word again.” The bedroom door clicked shut behind him. I stared at the closed door and let out a long, shuddering breath that sounded suspiciously like a sob. Chapter 5 When I woke up the next morning, Alaric and Aurora were already gone. As if to twist the knife, the System forced another vision into my head, showing me their departure. I saw Aurora presenting him with a plate of greasy, fried food for breakfast. I knew his digestive system was sensitive; I never made him things like that. But he ate what she offered, accepting it with a quiet nod. At the car, Aurora hesitated, putting on a show of reluctance. “The passenger seat… that’s Mrs. Aethelgard’s spot. She’ll be angry, won’t she?” Alaric simply opened the passenger door for her. “She won’t know.” And I watched, helpless, as the seat that had always been exclusively mine was occupied by another woman, at his personal invitation. I squeezed my eyes shut. Stop, I begged the System. I don’t want to see any more. My phone rang, startling me from my trance. It was Alaric’s assistant. “Ma’am, just a reminder about the family trust’s quarterly dinner this evening. Your attendance with Mr. Aethelgard is required.” I had completely forgotten. The mandatory gathering hosted by the clan’s elders. At a little past five, Alaric returned home with Aurora in tow. “Elora, Aurora will be joining us for the dinner tonight.” I stared at him. “Why?” “It was an order from the Chairwoman of the board,” he explained, his tone leaving no room for argument. “She’s seen the preliminary background report on Aurora and wants to meet her in person.” Thirty minutes later, we arrived at a private club perched atop the city’s tallest skyscraper—a property owned by the family. The moment we entered the grand dining hall, every eye turned to Aurora. The clan’s core members, led by a few elders who radiated an ancient and intimidating power, watched her with a mixture of scrutiny, curiosity, and something else… a subtle avarice that sent a chill down my spine. And me? His legal wife? I was completely invisible. The dinner was a tense, suffocating affair. The elders directed all their questions to Aurora, probing into her family history and upbringing. I distractedly took a sip of soup. A wave of nausea immediately washed over me. I clamped a hand over my mouth and rushed to the restroom. When I came out, a female elder—a distant relative of Alaric’s—was waiting for me. Her eyes were dark and unreadable. “Elora,” she said, her voice smooth as silk. “A reaction like that… could it be that you are with child?” My heart stopped. It was only then that I realized… my period was late. A dizzying panic set in. If I was pregnant, what would I do? How could I leave? I was given no time to process. The elders were already “suggesting” I be taken to the family’s private medical center for an immediate examination. After a series of tests, a doctor handed a report to Alaric, bowing his head respectfully. “Sir, your wife’s health is excellent. However… her body is not compatible with your bloodline. She cannot bear your heir.” The female elder let out a soft scoff, just loud enough for the entire room to hear. “All that excitement for nothing. Married all these years and still no results.” Another elder spoke, his voice a low rumble. “Alaric, you understand what must be done. The continuation of our lineage is paramount.” I said nothing. I just looked down at my own stomach. I should have been relieved, but the first thing I felt was a sharp, hollowing disappointment. Just then, the System’s voice echoed in my head, cold and clinical. [Host, you are merely a human. You could never have conceived the hero’s child.] I froze. The words replayed in my mind, but it wasn’t “hero” or “child” that held my attention. It was the other word. Human. It said… you are merely a human. The word was like a rusted key forcing open a door in my mind I had never dared to approach. Fragments of memory came rushing back, a tidal wave of suppressed truths. His “family nutritional supplement”… the chilling sensation of that cold fluid flowing through the IV tube and into my veins… it was… blood. Who gives their wife their own blood to cure cramps? His perpetually cold skin. No matter how warm the room, his embrace always carried a deep, unnatural chill. I’d thought it was just poor circulation. Now I knew it wasn’t the temperature of the living. His strength, so far beyond normal. Jars I couldn’t budge would open with a flick of his wrist. The one time I’d tripped on the stairs, he’d caught me with a speed that was little more than a blur. His preference for the night, his aversion to the sun. The floor-to-ceiling windows in our penthouse were fitted with specialized glass that blocked 100% of UV rays. I’d thought it was just the eccentricity of a top-tier CEO… And… the nights. The nights he would bury his face in my neck, the so-called “possessive kisses” that always left a faint, stinging ache, followed by a dizzying, euphoric rush… He wasn’t kissing me. He was… feeding from me. Blood. Cold. Strength. Aversion to light. Fangs. And the title of the novel itself—The CEO’s Crimson Contract. Crimson. A single, horrifying, and perfectly logical answer exploded in my mind. Vampire. My blood ran cold, seeming to freeze solid in my veins. I had always believed the difference between Aurora and me was simply a matter of love. That he loved her, and he didn’t love me. Now I understood. The chasm between us was not emotional. It was biological. We weren’t just a bad match. We weren’t even the same species. I wasn’t just the side character. I was a human. A fragile, incompatible, pathetic outsider who could never give him an heir. So that was it. That was the real reason the System had said I was unworthy. This whole twisted tragedy was so much more absurd, and so much more hopeless, than I had ever imagined.

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My wedding was just around the corner. I was scrolling through Pinterest, looking for wedding planning ideas, when a post caught my eye. It was a photo of a couple at the altar, their backs to the camera. The caption beneath it read: “The man I love has already pretended to marry me.” “So, no matter who he marries in the future, I’ll wish him well.” The moment I saw the groom’s familiar silhouette, my nine-year relationship shattered into a million pieces, lost in the digital ether. 1 When I found the post, I was supposed to be looking at venue decorations. My chat with my fiancé, Liam, was still open, our last exchange just five minutes old. I’d excitedly sent him a link to a wedding photographer’s portfolio. He’d replied: “Whatever you like, babe. I’m happy if you’re happy.” The smile was still on my lips when the photo filled my screen. The man in the tuxedo was tall and broad-shouldered. I knew that back better than my own. I didn’t need to see his face. It was Liam. My gaze shifted to the woman beside him. She was breathtaking in a mermaid-style gown that hugged her curves perfectly. She had her arm looped through his. They stood before the priest, a perfect couple, exchanging vows in a solemn, sacred ceremony. There were no guests, but the sanctity of the moment was palpable. The comment section was flooded with people gushing about how perfect they looked together. The top comment was a rallying cry: “You two are meant to be! Girl, why are you letting him marry someone else? Go get your man!” The blogger’s profile picture was a cat. I clicked on her page. It was completely blank, except for that one post. Using my burner account, “Momo,” I left a comment, my fingers moving as if guided by some unseen force. “Dying to hear the story behind this.” 2 Liam called a little later, asking to take me out for dinner. I pretended nothing was wrong. When I got in his car, he took one hand off the steering wheel and reached for mine. His brows furrowed when he felt my icy skin. “Your hands are freezing,” he said, his voice laced with concern. “Are you on your period? Are your cramps bad?” I gently pulled my hand from his grasp. “No,” I said, my voice flat. He turned up the heat and redirected the vents on my side away from me. A few moments later, his hand was back on mine. This time, a satisfied smile touched his lips. “There. That’s better.” My nails dug into my palms. We had been together for nine years. For nine years, he had treated me like I was the most precious thing in the world. The slightest frown from me and he’d be fussing, trying to figure out what was wrong. He even tracked my cycle more accurately than I did. His friends always joked that I had him completely wrapped around my finger. Liam, whose world supposedly revolved around me. And yet, right before our wedding, he had walked into a church with another woman and made the sacred vows that were meant for us. Who was she? And who was it that he truly wanted to marry? 3 We were in a private room at a Japanese restaurant. The image of him with that other woman was burned into my mind. While we waited for our food, I tried to sound casual. “What do you think about getting married at that old chapel on the West Side in Charleston? It’s supposed to be beautiful. I saw a lot of pictures of it online.” It was beautiful. A century-old church, grand and majestic, with stained-glass windows that stretched to a vaulted ceiling. To stand there would be like stepping into a dream. That’s why the photo, paired with her caption, had gone viral overnight. His hand, which had been pouring me tea, paused. “Charleston’s a bit far, don’t you think? If you want a church wedding, we can find a nice one here.” It was the first time since we started planning the wedding that he had ever said no to one of my ideas. Beneath the table, I twisted the hem of my shirt in my hands. Before we had even finished our meal, my Pinterest notifications had hit 99+. My comment had over five hundred likes and had been pushed to the top. The blogger had finally replied. “Okay, I’ll post our story tonight.” 4 I closed the app and looked up at him. He was staring at his phone, a soft, happy smile on his face. My heart seized. On pure instinct, I lunged across the table and snatched the phone from his hand. He was watching the video from his proposal a year ago. A flicker of surprise crossed his face, quickly replaced by an amused grin. “What’s this? We’re about to get married, and you’re already doing surprise inspections?” His passcode was my birthday. My fingerprint was saved in his phone. He left it lying around when he showered. He was so open, so transparent, that I’d never had a reason to doubt him. He was calm now because he was certain there was nothing incriminating on that phone for me to find. I forced a laugh. “I just wanted to watch the video again.” “Silly,” he said gently. “You have a copy on your phone, remember? You said you wanted to show it to our kids when we’re old.” The promise of growing old together still echoed in my ears, but a chasm had just opened up in our relationship. 5 I watched the video anyway. The one he’d personally edited for the proposal. It was a montage of our nine years together. Our high school graduation photo, where he’d switched places with a classmate to stand behind me. I remembered that day perfectly. He had leaned down, his voice uncharacteristically nervous for someone so confident, and asked if I wanted to be his girlfriend. “Don’t turn around,” he’d said. “I’m afraid you’ll say no.” The summer wind had brushed against our young faces. The photographer had counted down, “Three, two, one, say cheese!” And at the exact moment the shutter clicked, with my back still to him, I had said yes. We both went to college in the same state, but our campuses were two hours apart. He made the four-hour round trip constantly, just to see me for a few minutes. After we finished our master’s degrees, he proposed. In front of all our friends and family, he had kissed me and said he’d been waiting for that day for eight years. I tried to watch with a cold heart, but by the end, my eyes were wet. Nine years was a long time. We had both loved so fiercely, so completely. All this time, I thought his journey had been as single-minded as mine. But now, standing at the threshold of marriage, I realized his path had taken a detour. The thought was a dull, throbbing ache in my chest. In the tapestry of our shared memories, when had he found the space to weave in someone else? Seeing my tears, he wrapped his hand around mine. “You’re such a crybaby. You cry every time you watch this.” “I’m not letting you watch it anymore.” My hand trembled in his. I was afraid. Afraid of the truth that was about to be revealed. Afraid that nine years of my life were about to go up in flames. 6 When we got home, he went to his study to work. I sat in the living room, my hands shaking as I opened the Pinterest app. She had kept her promise. A new post had appeared. “A seventeen-year-old’s crush, finally fulfilled at twenty-nine.” I read her long, rambling story, word by word. The pieces started to fall into place. It was Sienna Vance. A girl from the class next to ours in high school who’d had a massive crush on Liam. During our freshman year of college, Sienna, who was going to school in Charleston, had come all the way to our campus to confess her feelings to Liam. He had been completely blindsided. He’d gently turned her down, telling her he had a girlfriend. He had told me about it at the time. What I never knew was that the story didn’t end there. Her crush hadn’t just lingered. It had blossomed. 7 The turning point came last year, when Liam did a year-long fellowship at a prestigious hospital in Charleston. By some cruel twist of fate, Sienna worked at that same hospital. They were colleagues in the same department. He had never mentioned this to me. One day, after being berated by a patient’s family, she was crying in her office. Liam saw her, pulled up a chair, and started telling her jokes to cheer her up. Through her tears, Sienna had leaned in and kissed him. In her post, she wrote: “He closed his eyes. He opened his mouth. And in that moment, my long-dormant crush bloomed in the dust.” A wave of nausea churned in my stomach. I dug my nails into my palms and forced myself to keep reading. They had laid out the ground rules from the start. He had a girlfriend. They were serious. He was going to marry me when he came back. She didn’t ask for anything more. All she wanted was one year with him. “We made a pact,” she wrote. “A one-year love affair. When the year was up, I would walk away without a fight.” 8 And so, their affair began. This is how she described their life together: “I never thought I would one day be living with the man I had crushed on for so long. We cooked together, watched movies together. We hugged, we kissed, we did everything a couple does.” “He seems so refined and composed, but when he lets go, he covers every inch of me with his touch, in every room of our apartment.” “I finally felt like he wasn’t just a distant dream anymore. He was right there, beside me, tangible.” “Whenever he called her, I would quietly leave the room so I wouldn’t disturb them. Hearing him say sweet things to her always hurt. But later, in the heat of the moment, he would whisper the same words in my ear, and then nothing else mattered.” When the year was up, he ended it. She had only one request. She wanted a fake wedding in that beautiful old church, a perfect, final chapter to their story. She promised she would cherish that year in her heart and never bother him again. He agreed. She wrote that after the ceremony, they had made love all night. Her words were a physical weight, crushing me. “That night, it was our last. We knew there was no tomorrow for us, so we loved each other until the sun came up.” “For the first time ever, he didn’t answer her call. He just wanted me one more time.” “That was my real wedding night.” 9 I sat on the sofa, my entire body trembling. I couldn’t stop replaying that year in my head. Every text he sent, every call he made from their love nest. The same mouth that kissed her day and night telling me he missed me, that he loved me. Every day that I thought our relationship was solid, he was living a double life. No wonder. No wonder he never wanted me to visit. He always said he didn’t want me to tire myself out with the travel. Instead, he would surprise me with sudden visits. All that thoughtful consideration was just a cover. And she, shameless and selfish, had reveled in their secret, sordid affair. They were disgusting. Both of them. I grabbed the pair of matching mugs from the coffee table, raised them high, and smashed them onto the floor. Shards of ceramic scattered everywhere. A perfect metaphor for my nine years. A bloody, mangled corpse. The noise startled Liam. The study door flew open, and he rushed over, his face etched with concern. He grabbed my hands, inspecting them carefully. “What happened? Are you hurt?” I snatched my hand back and slapped him across the face, hard. “Liam, we’re done.” “I don’t want a second-hand, cheating bastard.”

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The moment the second pink line appeared on the test, a jolt of pure joy shot through me. I didn’t even wait to catch my breath before racing to the office to tell Richard. But I froze outside his oak-paneled door, his voice, sharp and cold, slicing through the wood. He was on the phone with his personal physician. “Pregnant? How the hell is that possible? I’ve never missed a single dose of her birth control. With her fragile health, what right does she have to carry my child? God, don’t let her give me something… defective.” A pause. My blood ran cold. “Listen, at her next check-up, you tell her the embryo isn’t viable. Tell her she needs to terminate. And send me Scarlett’s ultrasound schedule. I want to be there for her.” The chill of the brass doorknob seeped through my palm, a venomous cold that shot straight to my core, shattering my heart into a million icy shards. And yet, months later, after I finally did lose the baby and fled the country to escape him, Richard Cross followed me across the ocean and knelt in the rain, begging me to love him again. 1 I drove home in a daze, a ghost behind the wheel, his cruel words echoing in the hollow space where my heart used to be. It was impossible to reconcile that man with the Richard who, just last night, had rested his head on my stomach, whispering with a soft sigh why our baby hadn’t come yet. When we first got married, Richard had been eager for a child, but I was the one who hesitated. My health had always been delicate, and I was terrified of passing my frailties on. I wanted to wait, to spend a couple of years getting my strength back. When I told him, he’d wrapped me in his arms, his voice a warm murmur against my hair. “It’s okay, Thea. We can wait. Your health comes first.” So I spent two years focusing on my body, and when I finally felt stronger, more ready, Richard never brought it up again. We were intimate, never using protection, and I just assumed we were leaving it up to fate. But month after month, year after year, nothing happened. The emptiness in my womb started to feel like a personal failing. I began to think something was wrong with me. Richard would always be there to soothe my anxieties. “Don’t worry, T,” he’d say. “It will happen when it happens. We can’t rush it.” I was so lost in my own self-blame that I never saw the glint of satisfaction in his eyes. Thinking of it now, my vision blurred, tears spilling over and tracing cold paths down my cheeks. Suddenly, a deafening CRUNCH of metal on metal threw me forward. My first thought was that I’d been rear-ended. Before I could even unbuckle my seatbelt, a woman emerged from the car behind me. She was stunning, all sharp angles and flawless makeup, a femme fatale in a designer dress. She stalked toward my car, her face a mask of fury. She pounded on my window with a manicured fist, demanding I get out. “What is wrong with you? The light was green! Are you blind? My husband just bought me this car! Of all the cursed luck to run into an idiot like you today!” My already frayed nerves snapped. A moment ago, I would have gotten out, ready to apologize and exchange insurance information. Now, I just scowled and rolled the window down an inch. “Ma’am, you hit me. The light may have been green, but that doesn’t give you the right to plow into my bumper.” “Oh, please!” she sneered. “If you weren’t daydreaming, I wouldn’t have hit you! Let me tell you something, my husband is the CEO of Cross Corp. So if you know what’s good for you, you’ll get out of this car, get on your knees, and pay for the damages before I make you wish you’d never been born!” The name ‘Cross Corp’ hit me like a physical blow. My head snapped up, my eyes locking onto hers. She saw my reaction and let out a triumphant, ugly laugh. “Oh, so you have heard of my husband? Good. That makes this easier. Get out and beg for my forgiveness right now. Because when he gets here, this is going to get a whole lot worse for you.” And then it clicked. Scarlett. This had to be the Scarlett from the phone call. I studied her properly for the first time—the killer curves, the fiercely beautiful face. We were polar opposites. Richard’s words came back to me: I want to be there for her. She was pregnant, too. A fresh wave of agony ripped through me as I thought about how he cherished her child while despising mine. My voice was ice. “Why don’t you call him? I’m dying to see what he can do to me when he gets here.” Scarlett froze, clearly thrown by my sudden shift in attitude. “Fine! You just wait!” she shrieked, turning away to furiously dial her phone. A dark, twisted part of me actually hoped he would come. I wanted to see the look on his face when he had to explain who this woman was. But Richard never showed. Instead, the police did, their sirens cutting through the gridlock our two cars had created. In the end, we were both found equally at fault and told to handle our own repairs. As we were leaving, Scarlett shot me a look of pure venom. “This isn’t over. I will make you pay for this.” I just smiled a thin, humorless smile, and watched her face contort in rage as I hit the gas and drove away. Back home, I collapsed onto the sofa, drained and exhausted. My hand instinctively went to my belly, to the tiny, secret life inside, and the tears started to fall again, silent and relentless. Just then, the front door opened, and Richard was there. He saw the tears on my face and was at my side in an instant. He knelt before me, his touch gentle as he wiped my cheeks with his thumbs, his voice laced with concern. “Thea? What’s wrong? Why are you crying? Did I do something?” His anxious expression, the way he looked at me… he seemed like a man desperately in love. If I hadn’t heard that phone call with my own ears, I would have been completely fooled by his masterful performance. “I’m pregnant,” I said, my voice flat, my eyes fixed on his, searching for a crack in the facade. Just as I expected. A flicker of sheer panic crossed his eyes before he masked it with a performance of pure ecstasy. “Oh my God! Thea, that’s… that’s wonderful!” He pulled me into a fierce hug. “We’re finally having a baby!” He pulled back, his face beaming. “I’m calling the Cross Memorial Hospital right now. I’ll get you the best doctor, a whole team to look after you until the baby is born.” Watching him lie so effortlessly, I felt a wave of nausea so profound I thought I might be sick. I shoved him away, hard. He stumbled back, a look of genuine confusion on his face. “What is it? Thea, aren’t you happy?” “I’m thrilled,” I replied, my voice a monotone. “But I’m tired.” Seeing my exhaustion, he took my hand, his expression softening into one of deep sympathy. “Of course, you must be. I’m sorry. It must be tough on your body. I’ll make sure to spend more time with you from now on.” I laughed silently, a bitter, hollow sound in my own mind. I didn’t have the energy to fight him anymore. I just nodded and went to our bedroom, closing the door behind me. Let’s see how long you can keep this act up, Richard. 2 A few minutes later, the mattress dipped beside me. Richard’s arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me close. He nuzzled my neck, his voice a low murmur. “Thea, do you want a boy or a girl? I hope it’s a girl. A little girl, as beautiful and unique as you. I’d be the luckiest man in the world to have two of you in my life.” He kept whispering, musing about names, but his sweet words were a wall of noise I couldn’t let in. All I could see was Scarlett’s furious, beautiful face. When I didn’t respond, he seemed to lose interest. Just then, his phone buzzed on the nightstand. He slipped out of bed and took the call on the balcony. Even through the glass, I could hear his tone—low, careful, placating. He was cooing at her, promising a new car, designer bags, anything she wanted. But she was clearly not having it. He was practically begging, his voice dripping with a pathetic desperation I’d never heard from him before. “Just listen to me!” “Of course I love you! I love you and the baby.” “She’s just… acting strange today. I need to stay here with her.” “Okay, okay! Fine! I’m coming. I’m on my way right now, alright?” He ended the call and came back inside. I kept my eyes closed, feigning sleep. I felt his gaze linger on me for a moment before he quietly left the room. The second I heard the front door click shut, my eyes flew open. I listened for the sound of his car pulling out of the driveway, then scrambled out of bed, grabbed my keys, and raced to the garage. I followed him to a lavish, gated community on the other side of town. I owned a condo in the same development, a wedding gift from my parents, so getting past security was no problem. The route he took felt sickeningly familiar. He finally pulled up to a stunning yellow villa at the end of a quiet cul-de-sac. He was keeping her here. Cross Corp had been an investor in this development. Richard had told me he was designing this specific house, a one-of-a-kind villa, just for me. A gift. And he had given it to me. He just let someone else live in it. The front door swung open, and Scarlett, clad in a slinky slip dress, launched herself into his arms. They kissed right there on the doorstep, a desperate, hungry kiss that seemed to go on forever. The sight was a dagger to my heart. I sat in my car, choking on silent sobs, the years I’d spent with Richard flashing before my eyes. I realized with a sickening lurch that I had never really known him at all. I was crying so hard I didn’t notice the man tapping on my passenger-side window. “Thea? Is that really you?” I hastily wiped my eyes and stared at the stranger. “It’s me! Leo! Leo Carter. I lived next door to you when we were kids.” When my confused expression didn’t change, he puffed out his cheeks. “You know! The little chubby kid who used to follow you around begging for candy!” Suddenly, the image of a small, round-faced boy materialized in my mind, perfectly overlaying the handsome face of the man in front of me. He took my stunned silence as an invitation, opening the passenger door and sliding in. His gaze followed mine to the villa across the street. “You like that place? Don’t even think about it, it’s been occupied for years. It was already taken when I bought my place here.” He continued, oblivious to the storm raging inside me. “That was about, what, four or five years ago? I saw it when I first moved in and thought of you immediately. It just seemed like your style. But when I asked the property manager, they said it wasn’t for sale. It was reserved by the developer’s CEO for his wife.” He shook his head. “I’ve seen the woman who lives there a few times, though. She doesn’t fit the house at all. No idea what the CEO was thinking.” Four or five years ago. We weren’t even married yet. They’d been together that whole time. The air in the car suddenly felt thick, unbreathable. My vision tunneled, the world went black, and I knew nothing more. When I came to, the sterile white ceiling of a hospital room swam into view. Leo was asleep in a chair beside the bed, and he jolD awake when I stirred, immediately calling for a doctor. “You’re finally awake,” he said, relief washing over his face. “You brought me here?” I asked, my voice a faint whisper. “Yeah. You just passed out cold. Scared the hell out of me. The doctor said you’re in the early stages of pregnancy. Your blood pressure is unstable, and the fainting spell was probably caused by extreme emotional distress. While you were out, I used your phone to call your husband. He should be here by now.” At the mention of Richard, my gaze dropped, a shadow falling over my heart. Speak of the devil. “Thea! What happened?” Richard burst into the room, his face a mask of panic. He rushed to my side, grabbing my hand, his eyes red and wet. “Why did you collapse? I nearly had a heart attack when I got the call!” 3 I pulled my hand from his grasp without a word, turning my face to the wall. I couldn’t bear to watch his performance. My rejection left an awkward silence hanging in the air. Leo, standing behind him, broke the tension, explaining what the doctor had told him. Only then did Richard seem to notice there was another person in the room. “You’re the one who brought my wife to the hospital?” he asked, his tone shifting from worried husband to imperious CEO. He pulled a checkbook from his jacket, scribbled a number, and tore it out, holding it out to Leo. “Thank you for your help, but we don’t require your assistance any longer. This is for your trouble. You can go now.” Leo glanced at the check, then at me, a look of pity in his eyes. He didn’t take it. “No, thank you. Thea and I are old friends. I was just helping her out.” He paused, his eyes narrowing slightly at Richard. “It’s just… you look awfully familiar, sir.” Richard’s eyes hardened, his posture becoming defensive. “I wasn’t aware my wife had any friends. You should take the money. It’s best to keep things clean.” The air crackled with a strange, unspoken hostility between them. Just as I was about to intervene, a nurse came in and asked for the family member to step outside for a moment. Richard shot Leo one last dismissive look, shoved the check into his hand, and followed the nurse out. With Richard gone, Leo placed the check on the bedside table. He hesitated, looking like he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words. I saw his struggle and made it easy for him. “You’ve seen him before, haven’t you? At the villa.” Leo’s face fell, and he gave a grim nod. “I understand now why you were crying earlier.” “Do something for me,” I said, cutting straight to the point. “Anything.” “Go to the Lefford Private Clinic. Find a doctor named Evelyn Reed. Ask her what these are.” I reached into my purse and pulled out the bottle of ‘vitamins’ I had been taking for years. Leo took the bottle, squinting at the plain white pills inside. “Okay. I’ll go right now.” My expression was stone. “Whatever you find out, you tell no one but me. Promise me.” He nodded, his face serious, and left without another word. He was barely gone when Richard returned, his expression utterly devastated. He looked like his world had just ended. “Thea,” he began, his voice choked with emotion. “The doctor… he said our baby has a severe developmental defect. The heartbeat has stopped. It’s a threatened miscarriage, and… and they said the only option is to terminate the pregnancy as soon as possible. For your own health.” He buried his face in his hands, a grown man, sobbing uncontrollably. A wave of revulsion washed over me. I stared blankly at the ceiling, waiting for his performance to end. When his sobs subsided, I asked, my voice empty, “Are you sure?” He was too lost in his act to notice my coldness. “Thea, I know how much this baby means to you. I know how hard this is to accept, but we have to. For your sake. We have to do the procedure.” He took my hand again. “We can have other children. Lots of them.” Without hesitation, I took the consent form and signed my name. Then I turned over, pulling the covers over my head. Richard must have mistaken my silence for grief. He patted my shoulder, his voice thick with false sympathy. “Don’t be so sad, Thea. It just wasn’t meant to be.” Then he eagerly took the signed form and rushed out to make the arrangements. The moment he was gone, I threw back the covers, packed my few belongings, and walked out of that hospital without looking back. I went home, grabbed the deed to the villa, and drove straight to the gated community, demanding the property manager accompany me to evict the unauthorized tenant. When the door opened, Scarlett’s eyes widened in surprise, which quickly morphed into a contemptuous sneer. “What are you doing here? I haven’t even gotten around to dealing with you, and you have the nerve to show up at my door?” The property manager, aware of her relationship with the CEO, tried to be diplomatic. “Miss Peters, I’m afraid we have to ask you to pack your things and vacate the premises. The owner of this property is returning.” “What?!” Scarlett’s smug superiority vanished. “Do you have any idea who I am? I’m Mrs. Richard Cross! How dare you try to kick me out? This house belongs to Richard! Who is this other owner?” The manager was sweating now. “The deed is in this lady’s name, ma’am. She is Mrs. Cross.” Scarlett’s head snapped toward me, her face twisting into an ugly mask of disbelief and hatred. “So it’s you! You’re the barren old hen who can’t even lay an egg!” she spat, her voice dripping with venom.

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During my most financially desperate year, I overheard a classmate mention an ill heiress nearby. I secretly got tested. As soon as the results arrived, her older brother found me. He made me sign a contract and rushed me into hospitalization. Then live comments flashed before my eyes: 【Don’t sign! He’s your brother.】 【Your real brother.】 【Miles Sterling, you’ll regret this. You’re sending the sister you searched for to surgery.】 I ignored them. I knew the man before me had already learned the truth. He had simply chosen to abandon me. Six days post-surgery, as comments buzzed with excitement, I quietly left the hospital. Everyone anticipated my return—eager to see the lost daughter make the Sterlings pay. 【The big moment is here! Zoe’s happy ending!】 【The brother knows! YES!】 【The groveling arc begins!】 【Time to be the pampered princess and make them suffer!】 【Don’t forgive easily, Zoe!】 I shook my head. They’d be disappointed. I was exiting at the climax. That pampered life everyone expected? I didn’t want it. 1 The first time I met Miles Sterling was at a café near the hospital. The second he learned I was a kidney match for his sister, he contacted me. After confirming the details, he handed me the contract along with a disposable mask. “It’s probably best if you wear a mask outside.” I took it without a word, my eyes scanning the exorbitant penalty fee listed in the contract. After I put the mask on, his gaze lingered on my eyes for a moment. The hand holding the pen paused, then decisively signed his name. Suddenly, the live comments flickered to life. 【Baby, don’t sign it! He’s your brother.】 【Your real brother.】 【Miles Sterling, you are going to regret this. The sister you’ve been searching for is about to be sent to the operating table by your own hand.】 【Wait, I just re-read this part… isn’t this the point where Miles already suspects Zoe’s identity?】 【Definitely. With the mask on, her eyes are a dead ringer for their mom’s. No way he didn’t notice.】 【I bet he made her wear the mask specifically so he could get a better look without being obvious.】 【He’s a total snake. Right now he’s doing whatever it takes for Stella, but once Zoe’s identity is confirmed, he’ll flip and try to be the perfect doting brother.】 My expression didn’t change. I signed the contract and handed it to him. I had to admit, Miles was efficient. He had me admitted to a private room in the hospital almost immediately. I didn’t have to worry about a thing; my only job was to sign the surgical consent form when the time came. During my stay, besides the doctors and nurses, the person I saw most was Miles. Not that we had anything to say to each other. We were strangers, after all. But he didn’t seem to see it that way. He was always finding excuses to wander into my room. “Are you really this free?” I asked, my voice flat as I stared at him on his fifth visit in two days. He had brought lunch. Miles just smiled. “Give it a try. Our cook made it. Hope it’s to your taste.” He added, “You need to rest up and build your strength.” I forced a tight smile. “Thanks, but you don’t have to. I just ordered takeout.” His cheerful expression froze for a split second. He recovered quickly, his voice dropping into a low, persuasive tone. “Takeout is so unhealthy. Nothing beats a soup that’s been simmering for hours, don’t you think, Zoe?” The casual way he used my name reminded me of my sister. She was the only one who called me that. “You can try both when it arrives, if you want. A little taste test. I have complete faith in our cook’s skills.” Just as Miles was about to say more, a soft knock came from the door. A young woman in a patient’s gown peeked her head in. “Miles, I knew I’d find you here.” It was Stella. She entered with a bright smile directed at me. “Hi, you must be the one donating your kidney to me. Thank you so much, Miss Zuo. Is it okay if I call you that?” My gaze fell on her. She was clearly well cared for. “Whatever.” Miles was instantly at her side. “What are you doing down here? Are you feeling alright?” Stella stuck out her tongue playfully. “I’m fine! I just wanted to meet my savior.” She leaned into him slightly. “And the surgery is coming up so fast, Miles. I’m a little scared.” He gently stroked her hair. “I promise you, there’s nothing to worry about. You’ll fall asleep, and when you wake up, it’ll all be over.” “I trust you.” Her eyes swept across my room before she spoke again, her tone hesitant. “Miles, why didn’t you get Miss Zuo a room on our floor? This one isn’t very big. Is she comfortable here?” Before Miles could answer, the comments erupted. 【Kinda weird to tell the person giving you a kidney that you’re scared.】 【Wow, the passive aggression is strong with this one. ‘My floor is so much better than yours.’】 【Stop being so negative. She was just making a suggestion, trying to be nice to the main character.】 【Nice? Can you not read the room? She’s blatantly showing off that her room is better than Zoe’s.】 【Why isn’t Miles answering?】 【He can’t. If they were on the same floor, the rest of the family might run into Zoe. This room was a deliberate choice.】 【Can’t wait for his groveling arc to start.】 Just then, Stella’s phone rang. “Mom? I just came to find Miles… Okay, we’re heading back now.” She turned and gave me a polite smile. “Miss Zuo, my mom’s calling. We’re going to head back. I’ll come visit again when I can.” A gust of wind from the hallway seemed to usher them out. 2 The lunch Miles brought sat untouched on the table. I sat on my bed, staring out the window. The truth was, I’d first heard about Stella’s kidney failure from my roommate, Hannah. I had just gotten back to the dorm, exhausted from my part-time job, when she’d said, “Did you guys hear? That heiress from the business school, Stella Sterling? I think she has kidney disease.” “Seriously?” “For real. And I heard a rumor that her family is looking for a donor match. Money is no object.” “Wait, isn’t it better for a relative to donate?” “Who knows with rich people? What family member would willingly give up a kidney?” Hannah held up five fingers. “I heard a successful match gets at least this much.” “Whoa, five million?” “You bet.” “I still wouldn’t do it. Who knows what losing a kidney does to your body.” “The chances of a stranger being a match are tiny anyway. Don’t even think about it.” I had stopped on my way to the bathroom, my head down. Five million dollars. If I was a match, it would be more than enough to cover my sister’s medical bills. I found a contact and quietly got tested. After the results came in, Miles Sterling contacted me, desperate to get me into the hospital as soon as possible. The comments had screamed at me not to sign, but they didn’t know what I knew. A few days before, I had been getting hot water down the hall when I overheard Hannah on the phone. “Mr. Sterling, I told Zoe about it. About that job interview…” “You don’t need to interview. Just show up for work on Monday.” “Okay, thank you, Mr. Sterling.” The male voice on the other end was identical to Miles’s. That’s when I realized the person who wanted me to hear that rumor was Miles himself. He couldn’t just stand by and watch the sister he’d adored since childhood waste away. In his world, nothing was more important than Stella. And me? I was desperate for money. The cost of my sister’s treatment was a mountain I could never climb, no matter how many jobs I worked. He knew I’d jump at the chance. He understood desperation. And he played it perfectly. 3 That’s why, when the live comments first appeared, I barely reacted. What did a blood connection matter? His scheming had started long before we ever met. From the comments, I’d pieced together the story. When I was three months old, my parents had a huge fight. My mother, in a fit of rage, took me and drove off. After a few hours, exhausted, she pulled over to the side of the road to sleep. When she woke up, I was gone. She spiraled into a deep depression. Six months later, her younger sister gave birth to a baby girl but died from complications. By family agreement, my parents adopted the baby, giving her my mother’s maiden name. That child, Stella, became my mother’s lifeline. My two older brothers came to see her as their real sister. As for me, I was passed from one trafficker to another before being sold. My sister, Mia, was a victim of trafficking too. The difference was, I was just a baby, with no memories. She was four, and she remembered her parents, but she could never find them. When Mia got sick, her biggest fear was leaving me all alone. She dragged me to the police station to give a DNA sample for the national database, just in case. In fact, just before my kidney match results came in, I got a call from the police about a potential familial match from that sample. I’m sure Miles got the same notification. Why else would he have been in such a hurry to get me hospitalized the moment we met? More importantly, I didn’t believe for a second that if the rest of the Sterling family knew the truth, they would let me just walk away. It would be a guilt trip of epic proportions. A daughter they’d raised for twenty years versus one they’d lost for twenty years? Was there ever any question who they’d choose? 4 Miles had actually hired a caretaker for me, but he fired her after only a day. He’d overheard her on the phone, gossiping. “You wouldn’t believe it. This girl in my room is having major surgery, giving up a kidney, and no one is here with her. Just me. The guy who hired me, her employer I guess, barely knows her. It’s so weird. The room is nice, though. Such a shame.” Miles fired her on the spot and left in a hurry. Half an hour later, someone else came to my room. It was Catherine Sterling. Miles and Stella’s mother. The new caretaker trailed behind her. Elegant, with a hint of resolve. That was my first impression. The comments appeared again. 【It’s the mom!】 【She’s going to recognize her, right?】 【Mrs. Sterling is so classy.】 【Even if she doesn’t recognize her, she has to feel some kind of connection, right?】 Catherine’s voice was gentle. “Hello, Zoe. I’m Miles’s mother. I’ve arranged for a new caretaker for you.” She paused. “I just wanted to ask… are you doing this voluntarily? My son can be a bit… intense when it comes to his sister. I was worried he might have pressured you.” I shook my head. “You don’t have to worry. It was my decision. I signed a contract with Mr. Sterling.” Her gaze drifted to my eyes, and for a moment, she seemed lost in thought. Snapping out of it, she glanced around the room. “Are you here alone?” “Yes.” She hesitated. “Do your parents know?” A small smile touched my lips. “My consent is all that matters.” If Mia knew I was having surgery, she’d drag me out of this hospital by the ear. In her eyes, my health was everything. But in my eyes, her life was everything. A heavy silence fell between us. Just as it became unbearable, Stella appeared in the doorway. “Mom, are you visiting Miss Zuo too?” Catherine rushed to her side. “Stella, darling, what are you doing here? Are you feeling alright?” “I’m fine, Mom, don’t worry. I just wanted to see how Miss Zuo was doing, in case she was nervous.” Stella looked at me. “Miss Zuo, are you scared about the surgery? To be honest, I’m getting a little nervous myself.” “Don’t you worry, sweetie,” Catherine soothed her. “Everything is going to be fine.” When she turned back to me, presumably to offer similar words of comfort, I just shrugged. “I’m not scared.” The thought of five million dollars was all the motivation I needed. Fear hadn’t even entered the equation. Stella laughed. “You’re so much braver than I am, Miss Zuo. I should learn from you.” She leaned against her mother’s shoulder. “You don’t think I’m a coward, do you, Mom?” Catherine stroked her hair. “Of course not. In my eyes, you’re the bravest girl in the world.” This scene of mother-daughter affection felt deeply familiar. The comments drifted by. 【Déjà vu. First Miles, now Catherine.】 【Stella really is the family favorite.】 【I’ve noticed the Sterlings only ever visit Zoe in groups.】 【It’s like they need a buffer. Wonder if it’s intentional.】 Before they left, Catherine introduced the new caretaker. I had to hand it to her; the woman was a professional. She took care of everything, leaving me with nothing to worry about. 5 The day before the surgery, my sister called. She was ecstatic. “Zoe, the police think they’ve found your birth parents!” She babbled on for a while before asking if I wanted to meet them. I knew this was what she’d always wanted for me, for me to not be alone. Before I could answer, Miles burst into my room, his voice urgent. “Can we move the surgery to tonight?” I instinctively covered the phone, terrified Mia would overhear. I’d never seen Miles so panicked. On the other end of the line, Mia must have heard his voice. “Zoe, are you busy? Think about it and call me back. If you decide to go, I’ll go with you.” “Okay,” I said quickly. “Take care of yourself, Mia. Get some rest. I’ll be home soon.” After I hung up, I looked at Miles. “Fine.” The comments went into a frenzy. 【NOOOO!】 【I feel so bad for Zoe. Miles does not deserve to be her brother.】 【What’s the rush? Is Stella your only sister?】 【They were so close! If he’d just waited one more day, Zoe and her sister would have agreed to the meeting! Why move it up?】 【I’d bet my last bag of chips Miles knows the truth.】 【Someone in the Sterling family must have gotten the police notification. That’s why Miles is panicking.】 【So the parents are excited their precious daughter has found a donor, huh?】 【I wonder how they’ll feel when they find out that donor is their other daughter, the one their own son sent to the operating table.】 【How did Catherine not feel anything? She literally just met her.】 Hearing my agreement, Miles seemed stunned. He asked, a strange note in his voice, “Why did you agree so easily?” I blinked. “What’s the difference between having surgery today and having it tomorrow?” His eyes darkened. “Just remember to fast until then.” The comments screamed back. 【There’s a HUGE difference!】 【If you’d waited a day, your parents would have known the truth! They never would have let this happen!】 【Liam needs to find out, NOW! I can’t stand seeing Zoe get hurt like this.】 【Okay, unpopular opinion, but she’s not really losing here. She’s getting five million dollars and she’s doing it willingly. Why is everyone acting like she’s some huge victim?】 【They’ll make it up to her when she comes back to the family.】 【Why does everyone assume the long-lost daughter is automatically more important than the one they raised for twenty years? It’s obvious Stella is the priority right now.】 【If she went back now, they’d just guilt-trip her into donating anyway.】 My eyes scanned the comments, a small smile touching my lips as I read the last two. They thought just like I did. Miles quickly confirmed the new time with the doctors. As I was wheeled toward the operating room, I saw a familiar figure standing beside another gurney. It was Miles, surrounded by what I assumed was the rest of the Sterling family. As we passed, my eyes met a woman’s across the hall. It was Catherine. I didn’t have time to read her expression. The doors swung shut, and soon, the anesthesia pulled me under.

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