Category: English

The girl at the front desk had a thing for my boyfriend. So she decided to ruin my reputation in front of him. “You know,” she said, her voice dripping with fake concern, “this young lady was here with a different man last night.” “She made a real mess of the sheets when she checked out, too. Refused to pay the cleaning fee.” She put a hand to her mouth, feigning shock. “Oh, my goodness. Did I say something I shouldn’t have?” Her eyes, wide and innocent, darted to my boyfriend, Neo. “I’m so sorry. I just couldn’t stand to see a good man like you being deceived.” I told her to pull the security footage. She claimed the cameras were broken. What she didn’t know was that this five-star hotel… belongs to my family. 1 “Ma’am, how can I help you?” The receptionist was speaking to me, but her eyes were glued to Neo. I glanced at her name tag. Jenna. I actually remembered her, this delicate-looking girl from the front desk. She was the one who checked us in last night when Neo brought me to the hotel. She’d been so flustered by him that she’d knocked over her glass of water. After a clumsy cleanup, she’d dragged out the check-in process for another fifteen minutes, finding any excuse to keep him there. I knew Neo was a head-turner. He was tall and lean, with fair skin and handsome, chiseled features. His eyes were his best feature—warm and expressive, the kind of eyes that could make a lamppost feel cherished. It wasn’t unusual for girls to stare; I’d gotten used to it. A handsome man is a handsome man, after all. But this receptionist? Wasn’t she taking it a little too far? “Hi, I checked out this morning, but I think I left a necklace on the bathroom sink,” I said. Silence. She was still staring at Neo. “Hello? Did you hear me?” 2 Neo and I met in our senior year of college. We were the classic campus couple. Everyone says graduation is breakup season, but not for us. We ended up in different cities for work, joining the ranks of the long-distance crowd, but our bond felt as strong as ever. I was in his city for a business trip, and he’d suggested I stay at his place. But with his parents and grandparents living there, I wasn’t comfortable with it. I didn’t want to face the scrutiny of his entire family before we were even engaged. So, Neo had booked me a room at the only five-star hotel in town, The Celestial. I’d checked out early that morning. It was only after lunch with Neo, as I was getting ready to head home, that I realized my necklace was gone. I waved a hand in front of the receptionist’s face, finally snapping her out of her daze. She blushed and looked away. After a cursory glance at her computer screen, she answered without a hint of hesitation. “Ma’am, housekeeping cleaned your room this morning and reported no forgotten items. Are you sure you didn’t misplace it?” I was taken aback. I remembered it clearly. While I was brushing my hair in front of the mirror this morning, it had gotten tangled. I’d unclasped the necklace and set it on the counter. Just as I was about to put it back on, my phone rang. My client had arrived early for our meeting. I’d grabbed my bag in a rush and hurried out, completely forgetting about the necklace until after the contract was signed. “I’m positive it was on the sink,” I insisted. “Could you please double-check with the cleaning staff?” She didn’t pick up the phone. Instead, her tone became firm, almost accusatory. “We have no record of any lost items. You must be mistaken.” Neo noticed my frown and stepped forward, taking my hand. “Don’t worry, babe. Think carefully. Maybe you dropped it somewhere on the way here?” 3 A prickle of annoyance went through me. What was that supposed to mean? Did he think I was making it up? I was absolutely certain my necklace was on that bathroom sink. It was a diamond necklace my mother had given me for my birthday last month. It was incredibly valuable. “Your hotel lobby and elevators must have security cameras, right?” I said, my voice hardening. “Pull the footage. We can see if I was wearing it when I left this morning.” Neo let out a breath of relief. “Yeah, that’s a great idea,” he said, turning back to Jenna. “Could you please pull up the security footage for us?” The receptionist froze. Her eyes darted around for a second before she bit her lip, her expression turning strangely complicated as she looked at me. “Ma’am,” she began, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, “is it possible… your companion took it?” Neo and I both stared at her, confused. His face immediately darkened. “Companion? What companion?” he demanded. Jenna blurted it out. “The man who stayed with this lady last night.” She didn’t stop there. “The lady left first this morning. The gentleman didn’t check out until an hour later. When our housekeeper went to inspect the room, she found… well, stains… all over the bedsheets. It’s against policy, so we had to charge a cleaning fee. The gentleman refused to pay and made quite a scene about it.” Neo looked like he was about to explode. His face flushed a deep crimson, and his voice shot up an octave. “What man? What the hell are you talking about?” 4 I was even angrier than he was. What was wrong with this woman? I’d been up until three in the morning finalizing a contract. What man? What was this crazy story she was spinning? And dirty sheets? Stains? The insinuation was disgusting. My face went cold, and I fixed her with an icy stare. “You realize slander is a crime, right? Now, I want you to repeat that. What man was in my room yesterday?” She recoiled as if I’d struck her, taking two steps back. “Maybe… maybe I remembered wrong,” she stammered. Neo shoved me aside, his teeth clenched as he glared at me. “Sandy, don’t you dare threaten her.” He then turned back to the receptionist, forcing a strained smile. “It’s okay. Take your time. Don’t be afraid.” Jenna lowered her head, deliberately dropping her voice to a near whisper. “I… we’re not allowed to disclose guest privacy. I’m sorry, just… please forget I said anything.” My head was spinning. A hot rush of blood pounded in my temples. Neo was no better. His eyes were bloodshot, his chest heaving with rage. “Sandy, is this why you wouldn’t stay at my place? No wonder you didn’t answer my video call last night. It was because… because…” His voice cracked. “Who was he, Sandy? Who was the man?” He didn’t believe me. Some complete stranger appears out of nowhere, spews a few nonsensical sentences, and just like that, he’s questioning our entire relationship. He’s questioning me. I stared at him, feeling as if a bucket of ice water had been dumped over my head. My heart felt like it was being squeezed in a vise, a dull, aching pain mixed with a bitter sting. In his eyes, was I really that kind of person? The kind who would come to her boyfriend’s city on a business trip only to secretly hook up with another man? And then, the next day, act as if nothing happened, sharing a meal with him without a hint of guilt? 5 My silence seemed to confirm his suspicions. Jenna, seeing her chance, put on a show of consoling Neo. “Sir, please don’t get too upset. Maybe that man was a relative? I did notice he was much older, maybe in his fifties? He was losing a lot of his hair… Perhaps it was her father?” If she kept talking, my blood vessels were going to burst. “Shut your mouth!” I roared, unable to take it anymore. “Spreading rumors is illegal! I’m calling the police right now. Get your manager over here. I want to see that security footage!” The color drained from Neo’s face, shifting from red to a sickly white. He gave me a long, hard look, a bitter, mocking smile twisting his lips. “Sandy, you’re really something else.” He paused. “You know I won’t let you call the cops.” “What? What do you mean, you won’t let me?” His eyes were filled with disappointment, completely devoid of warmth. “My uncle is a cop. He’s in charge of this district. If you call them, there’s a good chance he’ll be the one to show up. Is that what you want? You want everyone to know about this? You might not have any shame, but I do.” I almost laughed out loud from sheer rage. “Neo, you’ve already found me guilty based on a few words from a stranger? You think you can stop me from calling the police? This receptionist slandered me, and I’m missing a valuable necklace. Of course I’m calling them.” 6 Jenna looked deeply wounded, her eyes welling up with tears. “Ma’am, how can you say that? I… I really didn’t slander you. You’re a guest at our hotel, why would I do that? You weren’t even wearing a necklace when you checked in yesterday.” She gasped, covering her mouth as if a shocking thought had just occurred to her. “Oh! That necklace… don’t tell me it was a gift from the gentleman last night?” Neo’s face grew darker and darker. Finally snapping, he grabbed my wrist. “Sandy, stop making a scene! The necklace, the necklace, that’s all you care about! What about me? What am I to you? You’re coming with me, right now!” His grip was like iron, crushing my wrist, and I was sure he was going to break the bone. I cried out in pain as a tidal wave of fury washed over me, threatening to swallow me whole. We’d been together for two years. I thought I knew Neo. He was cheerful, kind, and hardworking. His family background was modest, but he carried himself with a quiet dignity. “Sandy, I’ll work my tail off for you,” he’d promised. “We might not be able to afford a mansion and a sports car right now, but I’ll do everything I can to give you a good life.” “I got my bonus today! Let’s go out for a fancy dinner!” He was a dedicated worker, already a department manager just two years out of college. My plan had been to take him to meet my parents by the end of the year, to finally tell him the truth about my family. 7 Because of a kidnapping incident in my childhood, I’ve always been extremely private about my family’s wealth. Throughout college, I lived modestly—my clothes, my habits, everything was designed to make me seem like an ordinary person. In the two years Neo and I had been dating, I deliberately avoided talking about my family. I’d just vaguely said my parents were small business owners and our situation was average. Seeing my reluctance, Neo, ever the considerate boyfriend, never pushed the topic. The truth is, my father owns a chain of luxury hotels. The very hotel we were standing in was just one of hundreds my family owned. My mother is in real estate. Theirs was an arranged marriage, a union of two powerful families. When they found out about Neo, they hadn’t objected. My father only had one condition: the boy couldn’t know about our wealth. Not until they had a chance to meet him and thoroughly vet his character. I’d beaten my chest and promised them. “Mom, Dad, don’t you worry! Your daughter has impeccable taste. Neo is the best person I’ve ever met. You’re going to love him.” But now? My cheeks burned as if I’d been slapped. “Let go of me!” I wrenched my arm free, meeting his murderous gaze with my own furious glare. “Neo, you believe a complete stranger over me? Is that it? Then we’re done. We’re breaking up.” My voice was cold and steady. “From this moment on, we have nothing to do with each other. If you touch me again, I’ll press charges for assault. Now get out of my way. I’m calling the police.”

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The world shattered the moment I found out about my husband and my sister. “It was never you, Clara. It was always her.” Liam’s eyes were bloodshot, his voice a blade. “You were the one who got in the way.” Each word was a hammer blow to my heart. The blood drained from my face. A tremor wracked my body—a toxic cocktail of pain, fury, and humiliation. “I was in the way?” My voice was a sharp, desperate whisper. “You knelt on the floor and begged me to marry you, Liam. And now you’re telling me it was always Ava?” A raw, hysterical laugh tore from my throat. It dissolved into a flood of tears that streamed down my face, hot and relentless. Seeing me so utterly broken seemed to jolt him from his cold rage. Panic flickered in his eyes. He reached for me, then snatched his hand back as if burned. His lips trembled, unable to form a coherent sentence. “Clara, that’s not what I meant… You… let me explain…” But I was already gone. I walked out the door like a ghost, an empty shell propelled by a pain so vast it had hollowed me out completely. I stumbled onto the street, oblivious, a zombie navigating a world that had lost all color. A blinding light sliced through the fog. The moment the truck hit me, my last coherent thought was, This still doesn’t hurt as much as my heart. 1 The sterile scent of antiseptic filled my nose. I forced my eyes open, squinting against the harsh sunlight piercing through the blinds. “Miss Hayes? You’re awake.” A young nurse came in, her voice soft. “You’ll be fine. You’re just a bit weak. We need to get your strength back up.” I stared at her, uncomprehending. The phantom agony of betrayal still echoed in my nerves, my mind a disoriented haze. This scene… I knew this scene. This was the hospital room from when I was twenty, after I collapsed by the pool. It was all coming back. Three days ago, I had won the National Dance Championship. My parents, ecstatic, had insisted on throwing a celebration at the Grandview Hotel. My younger sister, Ava, had recently failed her audition for the summer intensive. Though she pretended it didn’t bother her and my parents told her it was nothing, I knew how sensitive she was. I’d spent the whole party keeping an eye on her. When she disappeared, I went looking. I found her outside by the pool. A moment of distraction, a child running past, and I was knocked into the icy water, the shock pulling me into darkness. Before I could fully process the impossible reality of my return, the door to my hospital room opened again. Liam stood there, holding a bouquet of flowers. Behind him, her face a carefully constructed mask of concern, was Ava. “How are you feeling?” Liam walked to my bedside, his hand reaching for my forehead. “The fever’s broken. You just need to rest.” Instinctively, I recoiled from his touch. My expression was a complicated storm of emotions I couldn’t yet name. “I’m fine. Thank you.” Ava rushed forward. “Clara, it’s all my fault. If it wasn’t for me, you never would have ended up in here.” Her face was stained with tears, her voice trembling, her eyes brimming with guilt. Liam immediately wrapped an arm around her, his touch gentle as he guided her to a chair. “It’s not your fault, Ava. It was an accident.” His voice held a tenderness he had never used with me. Ava leaned into him, a subtle shift of weight, a silent claim. She looked up at him, her eyes a mix of gratitude, sorrow, and something else—a flicker of dependence I’d never seen before. I watched them, a cold, bitter clarity dawning in my heart. The intimacy, the unspoken language between them… it was so obvious. How had I been so blind my entire life? Sensing my glacial stare, Liam’s face flushed. He cleared his throat. “Ava and I are here to take you home.” Back at the house, my mother led me to the dining table. “Ava had Maria make all your favorites,” she said, placing a piece of short rib on my plate. “She cried all night, saying she wished it had been her who fell in the water…” I listened to my mother’s chatter, my stomach churning as I looked at the greasy piece of meat. I had lost my appetite. “Mom, I think I’m just going to go to my room.” She paused. “Alright, honey.” She helped me from my chair. “We’ll keep it warm for you, in case you get hungry later.” Lying in my bed, I replayed my previous life with Liam. Countless details, once dismissed as insignificant, now surfaced, each one a small, sharp piece of the devastating truth. He said I was the one in the way. Fine. This time, I would give them exactly what they wanted. I would step aside and let them have each other. This time, I would not be an obstacle. The next day, I began packing a suitcase for the dorms. “Clara, why are you moving out?” my mother asked, bewildered. “The campus isn’t far. Michael can drive you every day.” I placed my hairdryer into the suitcase. “Finals are coming up. I need to focus.” “Don’t go, Clara, please.” Ava grabbed my sleeve, her voice a soft, childish whine. “I’ll miss you if I can’t see you.” It was her signature move—the pouting, the wide eyes, the saccharine tone that always made me give in. I gently pulled my sleeve from her grasp. “I’ll be back after my exams are over.” That evening, Liam came to see me. “You’re moving into the dorm?” He held out a small box of strawberry tarts. “Can’t you stay? Ava’s really upset.” I didn’t take the box. My favorite was blueberry. He always got it wrong. I used to think he just couldn’t tell the difference. Now I knew the truth: he just didn’t care enough to remember. He never once mixed up Ava’s favorite, peach. “If you need a tutor, I can help you study. You don’t have to move out,” he said earnestly, placing the box on my desk. “No, thank you,” I replied, my voice cool and distant. “I just want to focus on my studies without any distractions.” “Alright then. But if you need anything, I’m always here for you.” He gazed at me, his expression full of the same deep concern that had fooled me for a decade. The same look that had made me believe I was the center of his world. If I hadn’t lived and died by his lies already, I might have fallen for it all over again. “I was never in love with you. You misunderstood. Our parents misunderstood.” His words from the end of my last life echoed in my head—the self-righteous justification that had shattered my reality, turning a decade of devotion into a pathetic, one-sided joke. 2 Living in the dorm was a breath of fresh air. The quiet solitude was a balm on my wounded soul, allowing me to pour all my energy into my studies and, more importantly, my dance. In my past life, I had been offered a scholarship to study abroad with a world-renowned company in London. I turned it down for Liam. This time, I wouldn’t make the same mistake. It was ten o’clock when I left the dance studio, muscles aching with a satisfying burn. “Clara, there’s someone downstairs for you,” my roommate, Jess, said, her eyes twinkling with curiosity. “Is that your boyfriend? He’s gorgeous.” I glanced out the window. A tall, familiar figure stood under the sprawling oak tree, a small box in his hand, his eyes fixed on the dormitory entrance. “No,” I said flatly, ignoring her teasing. I didn’t go down. Instead, I pulled out my phone and sent Liam a text. “Did you need something?” If I was going to cut ties, I had to be decisive. No more face-to-face meetings. My phone buzzed with an incoming call. I hesitated for a second before answering. “Clara, I brought you something to eat,” Liam’s smooth voice said through the phone. “Why don’t you come down and get it?” “Thank you, but I don’t need it.” I hung up without another word, my heart a calm, steady rhythm in my chest. Liam stood frozen, staring at his phone. He hadn’t expected such a cold dismissal. Something was different. Something had changed. When he got back to his car, Ava was waiting in the passenger seat. “Liam, did you see Clara?” she asked, her big, watery eyes full of faux concern. “No,” he said, his tone clipped. He was still reeling from my rejection. “She wouldn’t come down.” “Oh, it’s all my fault. My ankle is twisted, otherwise I could have brought it up to her dorm myself,” Ava lamented, her lower lip trembling. “She hasn’t been home in so long. I hope she’s okay.” Tears welled in her eyes, threatening to spill over. Liam’s focus snapped back to her. A wave of protectiveness washed over him. “Hey, hey, don’t cry. I know you’re worried about her, but she’ll be fine.” He gently brushed a tear from her cheek, his finger lightly tapping the tip of her nose. “You’re the one we need to worry about. You’re too thin. You need to eat more.” Later that night, Liam found himself staring at my name in his contacts. Before my curt text earlier, the last message from me was from the day of the banquet. I had asked if he could arrive a little early; I wanted to wear the necklace he was getting me. It was a new design by Mr. Chloe, a piece I had been dreaming of for months. He had planned to surprise me with it. But Ava, in her infinite helpfulness, had told me the moment he’d secured the purchase. I had been so happy, my eyes sparkling like crushed starlight. A faint smile touched Liam’s lips at the memory. He typed out a message: “Are you asleep? Want to get lunch tomorrow?” He waited. A long time passed, but the screen remained blank. A flicker of disappointment crossed his face. She’s probably just asleep, he told himself. She didn’t see it. Lying in my dorm bed, I saw his message and scoffed. Was this a date, or was he just following Ava’s instructions? Every time we’d planned to be alone in the past, Ava would miraculously appear. “Ava’s by herself, let’s just have her join us,” he would always say. And I never questioned it. Liam and I had known each other since we were kids. We grew up together. He’d sit for hours while I practiced, we’d study together, share our secrets. Our friends, our parents—everyone assumed we were destined to be together. An inseparable pair. I had believed it, too. How naive I’d been. Ava was five years younger, a little shadow who was always trailing behind us. While I excelled, she was… average. Quiet, timid, a fragile little thing wrapped in a cocoon of insecurity. My parents never pushed her, their only wish for her was to be happy. I, in turn, felt a natural, sisterly duty to protect her. It never occurred to me that she and Liam were tangled together. My husband, the love of my life, and my sister, my own flesh and blood. The two people I trusted most, conspiring to push me into an abyss. Looking back now, I was a fool. Utterly, completely blind. I remember one Valentine’s Day. Liam and I were going to walk across Lovers’ Bridge. And then, suddenly, there was Ava, turning our twosome into a clumsy threesome. I had gently tried to hint, “Doesn’t Mom need you at home?” Tears immediately welled in her eyes. “Clara… am I bothering you and Liam?” she whimpered, stumbling back a step. “I’ll… I’ll go home right now.” Her trembling shoulders and the sight of her retreating back, racked with sobs, was enough for Liam to turn on me. “Clara, she’s your sister! How could you say that to her?” I felt a hot flush of shame, instantly regretting my words. “Liam, don’t yell at Clara,” Ava cried, running back to grab my hand. “It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have intruded…” Liam rushed to her side, pulling her into a protective embrace. “It’s not your fault. Your sister was out of line.” And I, the fool, saw nothing wrong with that picture. I just stood there, drowning in guilt. 3 The next morning, I finally replied to Liam. “No, thank you. I have to study.” Then I put him out of my mind and dove headfirst into my work. That evening, I got a call from my dad. “Clara, Liam’s grandfather is back from his trip. We’re all having dinner at their estate tomorrow night.” In my past life, Mr. Sterling had always been incredibly kind to me. As much as I wanted to avoid Liam, I couldn’t be disrespectful. I had to go. I ignored the designer dress my parents had laid out for me and opted for simple jeans and a white shirt. When we arrived, I could see Liam and Ava in the garden, laughing together. I handed my gift to the old man. “Mr. Sterling, it’s so good to see you. I hope you’re well.” “Clara, my dear girl, come sit by me,” he said with a warm smile. He then called over to Liam. “Liam, get Clara a glass of iced tea. It’s a warm evening.” A nearby housekeeper chuckled. “The moment Miss Hayes arrives, our young Mr. Sterling steals our jobs.” “It’s what the boy should be doing,” his grandfather laughed along. I took the glass from Liam, my thanks cool and distant. Sensing the chill between us, Mr. Sterling deliberately seated us next to each other at dinner. “Clara, can I sit next to you?” Ava appeared, her eyes wide and pleading. “I’ve missed you so much. We haven’t eaten together in ages.” Before I could answer, Liam had already moved, pulling Ava into the seat between us. He then proceeded to fill her plate with all of her favorite dishes. “Liam, Clara loves this dish. You should give her some,” Ava said, pointing to a platter. “I don’t like it anymore,” I said calmly, before he could move. “Oh, Clara, I’m so sorry, I didn’t know…” Her eyes reddened, a tear trembling on her lashes. I looked up at her, my gaze knowing and direct. My stare must have struck a nerve. She flinched, her hand knocking over a wine glass in a clatter of panicked movement. “Clara, you’re scaring her,” Liam chided, his tone sharp with accusation. “She’s just trying to be nice.” I simply glanced at him before returning to my meal. His grandfather, sensing the strange tension, asked Liam to drive me home after dinner. “Clara, I wasn’t trying to blame you earlier,” he said, taking my hand as we walked to the car. “It’s just… Ava is fragile. You have to be more patient with her.” I pulled my hand free. “Okay.” “I got this for you,” he said, pulling a small velvet box from his pocket. “I saw it and immediately thought of you.” He opened it to reveal a delicate jade bracelet. “It’s warming jade. Your circulation is poor, this should help.” He moved to put it on my wrist. In my past life, he claimed he never loved me. Yet every gesture, every touch, every thoughtful gift was a lie that made me believe we were meant to be. As I got out of the car, I discreetly slipped the bracelet off and tucked it into the small compartment by the rearview mirror. If I was truly done, I couldn’t accept his gifts. Mid-week, I went home to gather a few things and took the opportunity to box up every gift Liam had ever given me. There was the pinwheel from our childhood, sand art from a beach trip, and countless pieces of jewelry. The box was surprisingly large and heavy. I taped it shut and shoved it into the deepest corner of my closet. There was no need to return it, but I would never open it again. My talent in dance had caught the attention of Professor Finch, the head of the department. He called me into his office. “Clara, there’s an opportunity to study under the legendary Alistair Finch in London. He was very impressed with your competition tape. They have resources there that could change your life. You need to take this seriously.” In my past life, Professor Finch had said the same thing. The first person I had told was Liam. “Clara, that’s wonderful,” he had said, though his smile didn’t reach his eyes. “But a young woman like you, all alone, thousands of miles from home… what if something happens? What if you get hurt?” He looked at me, his voice soft and laced with concern. “I would be worried sick.” Back then, I thought he truly couldn’t bear to be without me. I had held his arm and told my professor, “I have everything I need right here.” The memory was so absurd it was almost funny. “Professor,” I said, my voice firm with conviction. “I will take this opportunity.” “Good. Talk to your family. If there are no objections, you leave in a week.”

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My phone died. That’s how it started. My fiancée, Isabelle, was outside the car, her own phone now automatically connected to the Mercedes’ Bluetooth. She had no idea I could hear every word. “Did you pull it off?” It was her best friend, Chloe. Isabelle’s voice, crisp and clear through the car’s speakers, replied, “Barely. I made it to the airport just in time. He thinks I just got back from my business trip. He has no clue.” “You two have a wedding date set, Izzy. Are you seriously going to marry him?” “I don’t know,” Isabelle sighed, and I felt the air leave my lungs. “There’s a sense of… safety with Caleb. It’s solid. But it’s so damn boring. There’s no fire, no passion.” Chloe cackled. “Let me guess, the new boy toy is all fire? Lots of passion? Did you have a good time playing house?” “Oh, shut up,” Isabelle said, but there was no heat in it. “The wedding is in two weeks. I’m freaking out. I can’t live a life this predictable. But if I call it off, the damage to the company’s reputation… to my family’s… Chloe, what do I do?” “So, what you’re really asking is how to get Caleb out of the picture without taking the blame?” “I don’t know.” “Right,” Chloe said, her voice dripping with understanding. “You want your cake and you want to eat it, too. Got it. Give me a couple of days. I’ll come up with a plan.” “Okay. I’ll talk to you later.” The call ended. I watched her walk back toward the car, a vision of effortless elegance against the chaotic backdrop of the airport arrivals lane. 1 I had been waiting here, my heart thrumming with anticipation, only to have it shattered by a conversation I was never meant to hear. You don’t know how to choose? Fine. I’ll choose for you. Three years ago, Isabelle was negotiating a deal in Sonora when she was taken by a local cartel. Her father, a titan of industry, put out the word with a staggering reward: whoever could get his daughter back would have his blessing to marry her. I’d just gotten out of the service, my discharge papers still fresh. When I heard the news, I didn’t think about the money or the marriage. All I thought was: An American is in trouble. We don’t leave our own behind. I called in favors, assembled a small team of guys I’d trusted my life with overseas, and we went in. It was a hellish, razor’s-edge operation, but we brought her home. Maybe it was the way I kicked down the door to her cell, but something about me left an indelible mark on Isabelle. I never asked for the reward, but she started pursuing me. She was stunning, polished, and sharp as a tack. I didn’t stand a chance against her carefully orchestrated charm. I fell, and I fell hard. We started dating, but she never pushed for marriage, always saying her career came first. I didn’t push either, because my own family was a different kind of obstacle. They disapproved of the match, saw her as a socialite, and to this day, had refused to meet her. For three years, I worked on them, sending photos, telling stories of our life together, trying to bridge the gap. They finally relented, agreeing to meet her at a charity gala in three days. Today was supposed to be the triumphant first step. Instead, she’d just doused my world in ice water. Just as she reached for the passenger door handle, my phone, plugged into the console, flickered back to life. I had to end this, but I wanted to do it with some dignity, to give us both a clean break. The moment she sat down, my phone rang. A number without a name. But my memory, honed by years of training, is photographic. I’d seen this number on her phone before. It was her assistant, Leo. Her “boy toy.” What the hell was he calling me for? I answered. “Hey, Cal, I’m not feeling so hot. Can you swing by my place and give me a lift to the hospital?” Cal? At the office, I was officially Isabelle’s bodyguard and driver, but everyone knew the real story. Every employee, from the mailroom to the boardroom, called me Mr. Henderson, or Caleb if they were feeling bold. No one called me Cal. “Who the hell do you think you’re talking to?” I said, my voice low and tight. “I’m Ms. Ross’s assistant. You’re her driver. It’s your job. If my condition gets worse because you wouldn’t help, that’s on you.” “Leo? What’s wrong?” Isabelle’s voice was laced with genuine panic. “Oh, Ms. Ross, you’re there! Perfect. Can you tell Cal to come get me? I feel awful. Just… sick all over.” “Of course,” she said immediately. “Stay put, we’re on our way.” “Thanks,” he rasped, then hung up. “We need to go to Leo’s place, now,” she ordered. “‘Leo.’ Sounds cozy,” I said, the words tasting like acid. “He went to my alma mater. He feels like a little brother,” she explained, not meeting my eyes. “Don’t be jealous, Caleb. He’s sick. Let’s just go.” “Address.” She rattled it off without a moment’s hesitation. “I meant,” I said, turning to face her fully, “how do you know his address by heart?” “What is that supposed to mean?” Her brow furrowed. “I hired him myself. Of course I have his personal information on file.” “And did you hear him call me ‘Cal’?” “He doesn’t know who you are to me, officially.” “And that gives him the right to be a disrespectful little punk? To order your driver around?” “Caleb, are you going to do this right now?” she snapped. “He’s not feeling well, he obviously wasn’t thinking straight. Just drive the car.” I stared at her. The anxiety etched on her face, the deep well of worry in her eyes—it was a look I’d never once seen directed at me, not even when I was sick with a fever that could boil water. “Caleb, Leo’s an orphan,” she said, her tone softening, manipulative. “I just feel like he needs a little extra looking after. Don’t read into it.” She started digging through her purse. “Oh, look! I got you something on my trip. I know you were upset I missed your birthday, but this… Leo actually helped me pick it out. I know you’ll love it.” She handed me a small, elegantly wrapped box. I took it, my fingers numb, and without a word, I rolled down the window and tossed it onto the pavement. The lie about the trip, the casual mention of his involvement—it was all a suffocating poison. “What the hell is wrong with you?” she shrieked. “Get out of this car and pick that up. Right now. Immediately.” I didn’t move. “Fine! Don’t! Just drive to Leo’s.” I remained still, the engine humming softly beneath us. “Get out,” she seethed, her voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “This is my car. Get out.” “You’re right,” I said, pushing the door open. “You told me to get out.” I stepped onto the asphalt, saw the little gift box lying there, and brought my heel down on it. Twice. Isabelle slid into the driver’s seat, the window gliding up to seal me out. The tires squealed as she peeled away, leaving me in a cloud of exhaust and shattered expectations. I knew, in that moment, that we were over. Truly over. I pulled out my phone and made a different call. “Terminate all partnerships and joint ventures with the Ross family. Effective immediately. Halt any projects currently in progress.” When I first got with Isabelle, my family cut me off financially to show their disapproval. But my time in the service hadn’t just left me with scars; it had forged a network, a brotherhood. Those connections became the foundation of a business empire I built from the ground up, quietly, in the shadows. It was the discovery of this empire—and their inability to control me through it—that had finally convinced my parents to meet Isabelle. For three years, I had secretly funneled resources and opportunities to her family’s company, propping them up, making them stronger. Not anymore. The pain, though, was real. A raw, hollow ache in my chest. I found a dimly lit bar, ordered a bottle of whiskey, and sat there in silence, the past three years playing out like a film reel in my head. After the service, I’d come back with wounds you couldn’t see. Being with Isabelle had been a balm, a way to quiet the ghosts. I had given her everything I had, every ounce of love and trust I could muster. “Love is giving without expecting anything in return,” a voice from my past once told me. “If you think of it that way, you can’t be angry when it’s not returned.” Thinking of her words now, the anger began to subside, replaced by a cold, clear resignation. I was setting Isabelle free. And I was starting my new life. Later that evening, my phone buzzed. It was her. The storm inside me had passed, so I answered, my voice calm. “Leo’s at the hospital. I’m staying with him tonight. I won’t be home.” “Fine.” I said only that and hung up. From now on, she could stay with him every night. In the hospital room, Isabelle felt a pang of unease. She had agonized over making that call. She knew she needed an excuse not to come home, but telling me she was staying with Leo was a risk. Her friend Chloe had called it “desensitization training,” a way to slowly make me accept his presence. So she’d steeled herself and made the call. My flat, unemotional “Fine” was not the reaction she’d expected. It left her feeling strangely empty. But she didn’t have time to dwell on it. Her phone began to ring, and it didn’t stop. One call after another. Suppliers, distributors, partners—all pulling out. The bank was calling in their loans. Her company was hemorrhaging. Leo was still whining about his phantom illness, but she barely heard him. She grabbed her coat and rushed back to the office, a sense of dread coiling in her stomach. The next morning, I went to the office. As Isabelle’s bodyguard, I had my own small office, a courtesy she’d insisted on. I was there to clear out my desk and type up my resignation. As I was writing, there was a knock on the door. “Come in.” Leo pushed the door open. “Caleb, man, I am so sorry. I didn’t know who you were. My behavior yesterday was way out of line.” His posture was deferential, but I saw the ghost of a smirk playing on his lips. My eyes scanned him, and then I froze. He wasn’t dressed for an office. He was wearing a military dress uniform. My uniform. He stood unnaturally straight, and pinned to his chest was a medal. My medal. The one I earned with blood and grit. I looked closer. The uniform itself… it was mine. The one I brought back when I was discharged. The leather belt, with the faint scar where it once deflected a blade, a belt I treasured. The entire ensemble—the uniform, the medal, the belt—they were my history, my pride. Sacred. “Nice outfit,” I said, my voice dangerously soft. “Where’d you get it?” “Ms. Ross gave it to me,” he said, a flicker of triumph in his eyes. “She said I needed to project a more… commanding presence.” Leo was a pretty boy, the kind of guy who looked like he’d never seen a day of hardship in his life. The uniform hung on him like a costume, doing nothing to hide the soft, entitled core of the man wearing it. The anger I thought I’d buried came roaring back, hot and blinding. I looked at his smug face. “Take it off. And get out.” “Caleb, I don’t know what I did to offend you, but tell me. I can fix it.” “I said, take off my uniform, and get the hell out of my office.” He put on a wounded expression, slowly unbuttoning the jacket, but as he turned to leave, I saw his lips curl into a definitive, victorious smile. BAM. The door to my office flew open, crashing against the wall. Isabelle stood there, her face a mask of fury. “Caleb, you have gone too far.” “I’ve gone too far?” I shot back, my voice shaking with rage. “This uniform, this belt, this medal… do you have any idea what they mean to me? Did you forget?” “Honestly, who knows if they’re even real?” she retorted, her words like daggers. “I ran a background check on you. There’s no public record of you receiving any major commendations. For all I know, you made the whole hero thing up to impress me.” “And even if I did,” I roared, “even if it was all a lie, you knew how much I cherished them! Why would you give them to him?” “I gave them to him, so what? I can buy you new ones. I had no idea you were this petty and small-minded.” “Ms. Ross, please, don’t fight with him. It’s all my fault,” Leo simpered, stepping back into the room. He’d thrown on one of Isabelle’s blazers over his t-shirt. It looked ridiculous, but his eyes shone with the unmistakable glee of a winner. He looked at me. “Caleb, a psychic told me I have too much negative energy around me. I needed something with powerful, positive energy to ward it off. Ms. Ross was just trying to help. If I had known they were yours, I never would have accepted.” He continued, his voice dripping with false sincerity. “Look, I’ll resign right now. I don’t want to come between you and Ms. Ross.” “No one is resigning,” Isabelle snapped, her voice cold as ice. “Your value to this company is proven. It was a gift from me, your boss, and no one has the right to question it. I’ll buy you something even better.” She glared at me. “You humiliated him. You made him take off the clothes in front of everyone. I want you to go out there, into the main office, and apologize to Leo in front of the entire staff.” “Ms. Ross, really, it’s not necessary,” Leo demurred. “I should be the one to apologize.” “Stop acting,” I snarled. “Just get out of my sight.” If this had been a battlefield, Leo would have been the first casualty. Suddenly, Leo dropped to his knees in a theatrical display. “Caleb, I’m so, so sorry. Please, don’t call your old army buddies to come after me. I’ll leave the city. I’ll never come back, I swear.” “Caleb Henderson!” Isabelle’s voice was a whip crack. “I was so wrong about you. I can’t believe you’re this kind of man.” She rushed forward and helped Leo to his feet. “Don’t be afraid. I’m here. No one is going to hurt you.” As he stood behind her, shielded by her body, he shot me a triumphant, mocking look and discreetly flipped me the middle finger. The sight of them together, this pathetic tableau, filled me with a profound disgust. I stood up to leave. “Where do you think you’re going?” Isabelle demanded as I walked past them. “Apologize to Leo right now, or you’re fired.” “Fired?” I laughed, a bitter, humorless sound. I plucked the resignation letter from my desk and threw it in her face. “I quit.” She stared, stunned, as the single sheet of paper fluttered to the floor. “Wait,” she called out as I reached the door. “You’re just going to walk away like this?” “What else is there to do? Stay and watch you two make me sick?” “Nothing is going on between Leo and me! Watch your mouth!” she hissed, the anger returning, but her voice was low. She didn’t want a scene. “You’re only doing this because you know the company is in trouble, aren’t you? You think I can’t provide you with the lifestyle you want anymore, so you’re bailing.” I just laughed again. I didn’t bother to reply as I walked out into the main office. “What are you all looking at? Get back to work!” Isabelle shouted at the gawking employees. Downstairs, on the street, I stretched my arms wide, breathing in the city air. It tasted like freedom. “Hey, Cal. You lose.” Leo had followed me out. He stood there, puffed up with his victory. “You know, Izzy is incredible in bed. I never would have guessed the ice queen could be so wild. And now, that side of her belongs only to me.” He made a downward-pointing gesture with his little finger. “You’re this small.” He dangled a key fob in front of my face and pressed a button. The Mercedes I used to drive chirped in response. “The car, and the woman, are both mine now. As for you… why don’t you get on your knees and apologize? Oh, and take off that suit. That’s a company uniform. You’re not worthy of wearing it out of here.”

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My brother was the story’s villain—a frail, brooding soul plagued by an eating disorder. In the original novel, the heroine used gourmet food to wrap him around her little finger. Once she grew bored, she tossed him aside like trash. He ended up starving to death, all alone in our mansion. But now, he has me. His bratty, food-loving, grudge-holding little sister. I won’t touch food that’s a touch too bland or a pinch too salty. I won’t swallow rice that’s a grain too hard or a second too soft. No takeout. No frozen meals. And if he didn’t make it with his own two hands? Forget it. I was his personal, one-man wrecking crew. So when the story’s heroine arrived at our door, a gourmet basket in hand, ready to tame her gloomy little puppy… She shrieked, her composure shattering at the sight of the mountain of a man expertly flipping a skillet in our kitchen. The chat comments that had been scrolling beside me for the last five years trembled with laughter. 【LMAO, the mermaid in the pond turned out to be a megalodon. Who wouldn’t have a meltdown?】 1. When I opened my eyes on the hospital bed, a chaotic stream of text messages floating in the air gave me a splitting headache. 【WTF, wasn’t the villain’s sister supposed to die young? Why is she still alive?】 【Who knows. Even alive, she’s just a burden. The villain is a senior in high school, and their parents died in a car crash last year. How is he supposed to take care of a sick two-year-old?】 【Don’t be so harsh. Everyone knows Fred Blackwood treats his sister like she’s his whole world. He’s been running to the hospital every day since she was born.】 【Totally. In the book, he dropped out of school after his sister died. No parents, no friends, no college. He just spent his days street racing and skydiving until he wrecked his legs and went back to the mansion to die. That is, until the heroine showed up with her food to win him over…】 【Pfft, please. He only survived because he latched onto our Stella. The cripple was lucky to get a decent meal. And he still had the nerve to ask her why she left him before he died? Pathetic.】 My eyes snagged on the words “decent meal.” I glanced down at the delicate platinum bracelet on my wrist, easily worth a few million, and smacked my lips in confusion. Why wouldn’t my brother get a decent meal? Are we poor? 【Quit fighting! He’s here!】 【Damn, no cap, Fred Blackwood’s face is a masterpiece. The whole room just got brighter.】 【Broad shoulders, narrow waist, legs for days. That girl Stella is eating good!】 “Willow?” A pair of gloomy, intense eyes met my own wide, curious ones, and suddenly, the boy’s entire being seemed to spark with life. He dropped his backpack and rushed toward my bed, his long legs covering the distance in three quick strides. He carefully scooped my tiny, soft body into his arms and gently nuzzled his cheek against mine. Pure joy radiated from him, his lips threatening to split his face with a grin. “Willow! You’re awake!” “Thank God, you’re awake.” A warm drop landed on my cheek, and his choked whisper hung in the air. “I thought… I thought you were going to leave me all alone, too…” The noisy chatter of the floating comments fell eerily silent. I grinned, patting my brother’s face with my clumsy baby hands. Starving? Legs broken? Hmph! Not on my watch. 2. After no less than a dozen check-ups, my brother, Fred, was finally allowed to take me home. The doctor instructed him to start me on some soft, pureed foods. “Open up, Willa. Here comes the airplane…” Fred held a tiny spoon, patiently trying to feed me some creamed chicken porridge. I obediently opened my mouth and took a small taste. A smile touched his lips. My sister is so good. The next second, I spat it all out. A mess of saliva and porridge dribbled down my chin and onto my clothes, leaving a nasty stain. Fred fumbled for a napkin, frantically trying to clean me up. The comments exploded. 【Dude, get the kid a bib! Toddlers are messy!】 【Why’d she spit it out? Was it too salty?】 【No way, the cook didn’t add any salt.】 【See? I told you she was a burden. Can’t even eat properly.】 【If you don’t like it, get lost. Don’t ruin the mood.】 【Maybe it was too hot? My puppy spits out his food when it’s too hot.】 【Nah, I saw Fred check it with a thermometer before he fed her.】 Fred frowned, staring at the bowl in his hands. He’d had an eating disorder since he was a kid. More than once, he’d survived only thanks to an IV drip. Getting him to willingly eat something was harder than pulling teeth. But his sister had just rejected the food. After a long hesitation, he still couldn’t bring himself to try it. He waved over the butler, Mr. Evans, who tasted a spoonful. “Not too hot, not too salty, perfectly smooth. There’s nothing wrong with it, Master Fred.” Fred cautiously offered me another spoonful. I took it into my mouth, and then promptly spat it all out again. His expression slowly darkened. He stared at the bowl of porridge with the intensity of a man facing his executioner, a storm of emotions churning in his eyes. The floating comments were already placing bets on whether he’d actually taste it. My flailing hand slapped him across the cheek. He let out a long, defeated sigh. With a look of pure resignation, he opened his mouth and swallowed a large spoonful of the porridge. Before I could even celebrate, his face turned pale. He shot up from his chair and bolted for the bathroom. I could hear the violent sounds of him retching from the living room. When Fred returned, his eyes were ringed with red. Seeing my curious gaze, he forced a smile and brought the spoon to my lips again. “It’s okay, Willa. Big brother tried it, it’s really yummy. How about one more bite?” I stared at him, obediently took a mouthful, and spat it all out. The living room plunged into a dead silence. 3. The comments flickered nonstop. 【Oh god, don’t tell me his sister has an eating disorder too. She’s so frail, she’d never survive it. Is the villain doomed to be alone forever?】 【Please, Willow, just one bite! Your brother has no one else left! He’s so scared right now his lips are turning white!】 【Ahhh what do we do?! Can the heroine show up early and save her?】 【Maybe she just doesn’t like chicken porridge? What about a different flavor?】 Fred suddenly leaned in and kissed my cheek, his own face a ghostly white. He managed a strained smile. “I get it now. Willa doesn’t like the chicken porridge, does she?” “It’s okay, I don’t like it either. How about I go make you something else?” I calmly played with my fingers, ignoring him. Under the guidance of our cook, Mrs. Gable, my clumsy brother managed to prepare a small bowl of butternut squash puree. His nerves were stretched so taut that he instinctively bypassed his own aversion, scooping a bit into his mouth to test it first. Sweet, smooth, and perfectly soft. Fred’s hand trembled as he extended the small spoon toward me. Please, Willa. Please don’t be like me. Don’t… don’t leave me all alone. Mr. Evans and Mrs. Gable watched with bated breath. The comments bounced around, praying to every deity they could think of. Meeting my brother’s anxious gaze, I opened my mouth, let the puree slide in, paused for two seconds, and slowly swallowed. A collective sigh of relief filled the room. Mrs. Gable chuckled. “Well, what do you know. It seems our little miss will only eat what her brother makes for her.” Fred’s tense shoulders relaxed, and a brilliant smile bloomed on his face as he offered me another spoonful. I tilted my head, my big eyes blinking up at him. The next second, the butternut squash puree came right back out. The smile on my brother’s face froze. The comments, which had just been cheering, went completely silent. “Willa, what’s wrong…? Is… is something not right?” His smile was more painful than a grimace. I stared at his spoon, saying nothing. He wrung his hands, thinking hard for a long moment. Then, he picked up his own spoon, took a large bite while fighting the urge to gag, and hesitantly offered the small spoon to me again. With everyone watching, I slowly swallowed the puree. He repeated the process three more times. And each time, I obediently swallowed my bite. Mr. Evans slapped his forehead in a moment of revelation, his voice shaking with excitement. “Master Fred! She’s copying you! She’s learning how to eat from you!” “From now on, just take a few bites yourself before you feed her, and she’ll eat without a problem!” The comments whispered amongst themselves. 【Is it just me, or does it feel like the little sister is doing this on purpose?】 【You know, you might be onto something. When has the villain ever eaten this much? This is probably more than he eats in a month.】 【Don’t be ridiculous, she’s only two years old.】 【I think it’s possible. Don’t forget, this is the kid who was supposed to die.】 【True… so all this back and forth was intentional? That little rascal! She’s playing us!】 【Hahaha, this is great! Finally, someone can handle the villain. He never thought that after all his stubborn fasting, he’d one day be on his knees begging his little princess to eat.】 【Wait, no! If he keeps taste-testing everything, his anorexia will be cured! Then how is our Stella supposed to win him over?】 【That’s disgusting! Why should Fred have to starve to death just to satisfy your heroine’s power trip?】 【Exactly! His eating disorder, his parents’ death—it was all just a setup for her special ability. Hasn’t the villain suffered enough?!】 … 4. The comments argued endlessly while I grew up, bite by bite, on the delicious food my brother personally fed me. On my first day of preschool, I was four years old. Fred, now a sophomore in college, held me at the school gate and wailed like a fire hydrant had burst. “Waaaah… my precious Willa, what will you ever do without me?” “Sob… I know you’re picky and greedy and have a bad temper, and you hold grudges and are vain and petty, but I still love you so, so much! Waaaaah…” I saw the barely suppressed laughter from the people around us and his two best friends. Beside me, the comments were practically distorted with hysterics. I deadpanned and gave him a solid thump on the arm. He wasn’t wrong, though. In the past two years, I’d grown teeth and learned to talk, and my palate had become even more demanding. A touch too bland, a pinch too salty—nope. A grain too hard, a second too soft—forget it. No takeout, no frozen meals. I ate only what Fred made himself. The portions were small, but the variety had to be extensive. My cravings were endless; if I saw it, I wanted it. Every dish that landed on my table was something he’d learned, step by step, from Mrs. Gable. If I wasn’t satisfied, he had to remake it. If he was too slow, I’d bite him. And if he dared to get angry, I’d give him the silent treatment for three days. Over time, he learned to just take the pain. But with Mr. Evans, Mrs. Gable, and his friends Mason and Silas, I was always perfectly polite. He was the only one I tormented. What can I say? The day I first learned to call him “brother,” he dropped to his knees, hugged me with tears streaming down his face, and swore he’d cook for me for the rest of his life. I patted his arm, which was no longer so frail. All that forced taste-testing and pan-flipping over the years had built some serious muscle. “Brother, just leave the lunchbox and go. Study hard, and no street racing or skydiving with your friends, you hear me?” “Okay,” Fred sniffled, rubbing his cheek against mine one last time. “But Willa, you haven’t told me you love me most today.” In front of everyone? No way. I leaned forward, my face impassive, and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. “Alright, you can go now.” Fred, finally satisfied, slung his arms around his friends and left. 5. When I started elementary school at seven, Fred was in his first year of grad school. Mason was still his roommate, while Silas had already adopted a serious haircut and taken over his family’s corporation. My brother had also made two new friends through a programming competition. The number of people picking me up from school grew from one to three, then back to two, and finally to four. “Willa, sweetie!” Fred waved a brawny arm, running over to scoop me up and plant a big kiss on my cheek. “Haven’t seen you in a week! Did you miss your big brother?” I hung limply in his rock-solid embrace, not saying a word. “Whoa, what’s this?” Mason peered at me curiously. “Who dared to make our little princess unhappy?” Two unfamiliar handsome faces leaned in, their eyes filled with curiosity. “Fred, is this the precious sister you never shut up about?” Fred grunted in confirmation, lifting me out of his hug to hold me up high. He frowned at my red-rimmed eyes. “Willa, who bullied you? Tell me, and I’ll go sort them out!” The tears finally spilled over. “Brother,” I asked miserably, “am I a bad kid with no parents and no manners?” The words hung in the air, and the smiles on all four young men’s faces instantly vanished. The comments had already gone ballistic. 【Willa, don’t listen to that little bully! He’s just jealous your family is rich! Tell your brother to teach him a lesson!】 【Yeah! Tell your brother he started it! He snatched your notebook and deliberately smashed your favorite ceramic bear!】 【Trash kids come from trash parents. Those two foul-mouthed parents of his are no better! Willa, don’t go easy on them. Have your brother get a lawyer and make them pay and apologize!】 【Don’t be sad, Willa. You’re the sweetest, kindest little girl we’ve ever seen! It’s all that biased teacher’s fault, and that awful family’s!】 【Exactly! She was so scared of distracting her brother during his competition that she didn’t even call him after being bullied. She let those monsters get away with it!】 … 6. His face a dark storm cloud, Fred hugged me tighter. The five of us stormed the principal’s office like an avenging army. After reviewing all the security footage, Fred said nothing. He simply grabbed the trembling teacher, Ms. Albright, and dragged her out the door. Mason and the others sat me down on a chair, a united front making it clear they were here to back me up. When Principal Wallace opened his door, he saw the heirs to four of the city’s five great families—the ones every financial journalist dreamed of interviewing—sitting right there. The only one missing was Silas. His heart sank. He trembled, about to fall to his knees and beg for mercy, but Fred grabbed him by the collar with one hand and hauled him away. Mason followed them out. The little bully who had tormented me was now bawling his eyes out, while his mother, the woman who had pointed a finger at me and called me mannerless, was slumped on the floor in a stupor. I nervously peeked out from behind the two new brothers, but they just smiled and gently covered my eyes and ears. The air grew thick with a strange, metallic scent. When I opened my eyes again, the lead attorney who was always with Silas was smiling down at me. “Hey there, Princess Willa! Long time no see!” I never saw the bully, his family, or the condescending Ms. Albright ever again.

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Chapter 1 The day after Julian Vance’s engagement party, his assistant handed me a plane ticket. “It’s time for you to go,” he said, his gaze fixed on a point just over my shoulder. “And don’t come back to New York. Ever.” He let the threat hang in the air. “Mr. Vance has a great many ways to ruin a person.” All those years with Julian, I had been the envy of everyone, bathed in a light that wasn’t my own. Now, my exit was so pathetic it was almost comical. “Alright,” I said, my voice perfectly even. That night, the flight plummeted from thirty-thousand feet. I never planned on dying. In my version of the future, I take Julian’s five million dollars and disappear to some sun-drenched corner of Europe, far away from the wreckage of my life. The rest of my days would be a quiet succession of small joys, mine and mine alone. But in the screaming chaos of the fall, all of that was ripped away. There was nothing left but a searing, helpless rage. That ticket wasn’t a fresh start. It was a death sentence. My last meeting with Julian flashed in my mind. We hadn’t spoken in over two months. He’d been consumed—arranging Ava Monroe’s divorce, settling her and her daughter, a whirlwind of activity that finally, belatedly, reminded him he still had a girlfriend. So he carved out an hour and came to my apartment. His apartment, really. A sprawling penthouse in a part of Manhattan so exclusive I couldn’t have afforded to breathe the air without him. Not long ago, we were tangled in the sheets of the master bed, his arm heavy around my waist as I playfully dragged my nails down his back, leaving faint red trails on his skin. But now, after just weeks of silence, we were strangers. We sat at opposite ends of the long dining table, the polished wood a continent between us. “What do you want?” he asked. Direct. Cold. I didn’t bother with pleasantries. Three years of my youth. I told him they were worth five million dollars. Yes, I had loved him. I admit that. But that love had withered and died the day I realized I wasn’t the masterpiece, just the preliminary sketch. A placeholder until the real thing came back. He nodded, his expression unreadable. “Fine.” Then, the final turn of the screw. “But you can’t stay in New York. She doesn’t want you in the same city.” She. What could I do? I could only nod. If I refused, Julian, with his infinite resources and nonexistent patience, would find a way to force me out. And it would be far messier. He named a city on the West Coast. “I have properties there. Pick one. It’s yours.” So generous. I managed a smile. “Okay.” He gave a slight nod. “And we won’t see each other again. You can do that, can’t you?” My very existence was an inconvenience, an unsightly smudge on their perfect reunion. “Of course,” I replied. I was an orphan who had clawed her way through college. I came to New York chasing rumors of opportunity, fell into some modeling work, and started to enjoy it. The flash of the camera, the fleeting sense of being seen. Then I met Julian. He pursued me with the kind of grand, sweeping gestures you only see in movies, and within two weeks, I was his. He didn’t like me working, so my world, once expanding, had shrunk to the size of him. For years, the only people I knew were his friends. I had no roots here, no one to miss. I should have been thrilled to fly away and never look back. But fate, it seems, has a twisted sense of humor. I was dead. And I was staring right at Julian Vance. He couldn’t see me, of course. I was just a ghost. Chapter 2 I’d always cared about my appearance. Before boarding the plane, I’d had my hair professionally styled and wore a touch of light, natural makeup. I hadn’t worn my makeup like that in years. Julian never liked it. How naive I’d been, molding my entire existence to his preferences. I only learned later that his “preference” was a lie. He liked me in heavy, dramatic makeup because only then, with my eyes winged and my lips a slash of red, did I truly resemble her. Ava Monroe. The Oscar-winning actress, famous for her cascading waves and smoldering glamour. Now, in some small mercy from the universe, I looked just as I had before the crash. My hair was perfect. My makeup, immaculate. No trace of the violence of my death. Standing in Julian’s office, I studied my reflection in the polished glass of a framed photograph and breathed a sigh of spectral relief. My eyes drifted around the room. The leather of that couch… the view from that window at midnight… Memories, sharp and unwanted, pricked at me from every corner. Finally, I let my gaze settle on him. He was twenty-seven, a titan of industry with the kind of power most men only dream of. The greatest failure of his life had been watching the woman he loved marry someone else. But now, the one that got away had come back. A storybook ending. Even his assistant, Arthur, wore a smile when he entered the office. “Mr. Vance, the nursery is all set up,” he reported. “And the pieces Ms. Monroe selected yesterday have been delivered.” Julian murmured a soft, “Mm.” He set down a contract, massaged the bridge of his nose, and then picked up his phone. He stared at the screen for a long time. I drifted closer, curious. But before I could see, the screen went dark. Then I heard him speak. His voice was quiet. “How is she?” Arthur paused for a fraction of a second. “Ms. Monroe is on set, sir. Not far from here. Would you like to visit her later?” I’d seen one of Ava’s films. She played the princess of a fallen kingdom—beautiful, brilliant, a woman who loved and hated with equal ferocity. She clawed her way back to power through sheer force of will. If I were just another moviegoer, I would have adored her. But I wasn’t. Our first meeting had been a masterclass in humiliation. She’d looked me up and down, a small, knowing smile on her face. “Do you know how much you look like me?” I’d nodded. “People say that. I take it as a compliment.” Her laugh was a dry, rustling sound. “You’ve been with him almost three years, haven’t you?” “Yes.” She arched a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. “Let me save you some time. He was in love with me three years ago.” Three years. And not a single person had ever told me. I’d been a fool, a stand-in for a ghost. I later found out that every script she’d ever accepted had been hand-picked by Julian, quietly steered onto her path to ensure she never faced a single setback. Her career was a monument to his unseen devotion. And me? I had nothing. To the world, I wasn’t Chloe. I was just “that woman you always see with Julian Vance.” Chapter 3 Arthur finished his update, but Julian remained silent, tapping a sleek fountain pen against his desk. After a long moment, he asked, “She should have landed by now, right?” The question seemed to come from nowhere, but Arthur, ever the consummate professional, didn’t miss a beat. He glanced at his watch. “Yes, she should have.” It took me a second to realize. He was asking about me. A flicker of something—conscience, maybe? Too bad. I hadn’t made it to the other side of the country. My journey ended last night, in a fiery wreck. Julian’s face showed nothing at the confirmation. He just woke his phone again, staring at the blank screen. This time, I was right beside him. I saw it clearly. It was our text thread. Thirty minutes ago, he’d sent a message. [If you ever need anything, contact Arthur.] In the past, I would have replied in seconds. Hearing Arthur’s response, a cold, humorless smile touched Julian’s lips. He leaned back in his chair. “Good.” Then, another question. “Has she tried to contact you?” Arthur shook his head. “No, sir. Not since I gave her the ticket.” Silence descended again. The air in the room grew heavy, thick with unspoken things. Arthur hesitated. “Sir, would you like me to place a call to Ms. Devereaux?” Julian finally looked up, his eyes veiled. It was impossible to know what he was thinking. “No,” he said, his voice flat. “From now on, I don’t need to be updated on her affairs.” He glanced one last time at our message history. The silence on my end was absolute. His thumb paused over my name for a fraction of a second before he pressed ‘Delete Contact.’ Chapter 4 And there it was. It wasn’t concern. It was housekeeping. A final, formal severing of ties. A wave of impotent fury washed over me. Damn it, I died! My plan had been to land, settle into my new mansion, and then have the supreme satisfaction of blocking his number myself. He’d stolen even that from me. I swung my leg back and kicked him hard in the thigh. Or, I tried to. Back when things were good, when he wasn’t a remote, untouchable figure, I had a habit of giving him little kicks when he annoyed me. It was an instinctive, fluid motion. But this time, my foot passed right through him. No impact. No feeling. Nothing. Which, of course, only made me angrier. After Arthur left, Julian worked for hours. I tried to leave the office, to explore my new, incorporeal existence. But every time I neared the door, I was snapped back to his side, like a dog on an invisible leash. It didn’t take long to figure it out. I was tethered to him. Maybe because his money had put me on that plane. My killer, my anchor. A pity I hadn’t come back as a vengeful spirit. I could have at least haunted him properly. Just then, a voice echoed in my mind, calm and bureaucratic. [There you are.] I jolted. “Who are you?” [Post-Mortal Affairs. We had a system glitch. Everyone from your flight is temporarily bound to the person they were closest to in life. Sorry for the inconvenience.] Relief washed over me. “Can you take me now? And listen, I had a lot of money I didn’t get to spend. Can that roll over to my next life?” A trust-fund baby. That was my dream. The voice sounded apologetic. [Not my department. But given the traumatic nature of your demise, I can probably get you a more peaceful exit next time around.] Great. “Fine. Just get me out of here. I’m ready to reincarnate.” [Not yet. We have to wait until your funeral is concluded.] “Why?” [Your soul has established a new tether to the mortal plane. The funeral rites sever that tie. From what I can see, the services for the other victims are already being arranged. You’re… well, you’re a bit of a special case. Doesn’t look like anyone’s noticed you’re gone.] The words were a blade to the heart. With that cheerful update, the voice vanished. I sighed, running through a mental list of everyone I knew. The list was pathetically short. It looked like I was going to be a lonely ghost for a very long time. Hours later, Julian finally packed up. Ava had called, asking him to pick her up from the studio. I followed him down to the garage and into his car. I didn’t look at him. I watched the city lights blur past the window. Skyscrapers like glittering spines, streets flowing with rivers of light. It was all so beautiful, a dream I had woken up from too soon. A profound sense of unfairness settled over me. All those years, all that potential, erased by one failed love affair. And that five million dollars… I hadn’t spent a single cent. It was outrageous. Tears I couldn’t shed burned behind my eyes. When we arrived, Ava emerged from the studio and melted into his arms. Julian’s body went rigid for a second, then relaxed as he returned the embrace with a faint smile. “How was it? Are you tired?” he asked. She nodded, launching into a story about her day. Her voice was captivating; she could make the most mundane event sound like a scene from a movie. They walked to the car, fingers interlaced, matching engagement rings catching the light. I had to admit it, as much as it galled me. They looked perfect together. Just then, two women walked out of the studio behind them, deep in conversation. “Did you see the news?” one said. “That flight that went down last night? Over a hundred people, no survivors.” “I saw,” the other replied, her voice shaky. “I was supposed to be on that flight. I had a ticket and everything for a vacation. This last-minute role saved my life. I have the luck of the gods.”

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We were about to graduate from college when my girlfriend, Serena, suddenly broke up with me. She gave me a villa, a Bentley, and eighteen million dollars, saying it was for my four years of companionship. I was completely lost. I wanted to know why. But her voice was cold. “Liam, for people from my kind of family, love and marriage are two separate things. I have to go back for an arranged marriage now. Do you understand?” My girlfriend was engaged, but her fiancé wasn’t me. When I rushed to the engagement party, I saw Serena on the stage. She was wearing a haute couture gown and dazzling jewelry, looking impossibly beautiful and elegant. The man standing opposite her, however, was maybe five-foot-three, overweight, and his face was covered in oily, glistening pimples that looked ready to burst. My girlfriend was going to marry a man like that? Thinking back to last night, it felt like a lifetime ago. I had just gotten back to the villa from my internship when Serena pushed me onto the bed. She leaned down, her lips on mine, and whispered in a husky voice, “Tonight, treat me like I’m not human.” And then, she devoured me. But when I woke up, she was gone. Her phone number was disconnected. Her social media accounts—all of them—were deleted. It was as if she had vanished from my world without a trace, leaving me completely blindsided. Then, her lawyer showed up. He arrived at noon. He said Serena had specifically instructed him to come at noon, so as not to disturb my rest. Then he handed me a document. I read it, completely bewildered. It was a gift deed. It stated that Serena was voluntarily giving me the villa, the Bentley, and eighteen million dollars in cash as a thank-you gift for our four years together in college. So, she had dumped me out of the blue and was now treating me like some boy toy, throwing money at me to make me go away? But I didn’t need her money. I’d told her that when we first got together. She had just smiled confidently and said, “No matter how rich you are, you’re not as rich as me.” I didn’t argue. I was in love with her. But why break up, just like that? Last night, she had been so passionate, so fierce. She had spent the whole night telling me she loved me. How could this be happening? I forced myself to calm down and used my family’s resources to find out what was going on. And that’s how I ended up at her engagement party. I could tell Serena wasn’t happy. Was she being forced into this? “Kiss her! Kiss her!” someone in the crowd yelled. I saw the man reach for Serena’s hand. She recoiled instinctively, pulling away. The man’s face darkened. His thick lips moved, spraying saliva as he spoke. “Have you already forgotten what you promised me?” Serena’s face went pale, but she took a step forward. She was being threatened. I pushed through the crowd and shouted, “Serena, if you’re in trouble, tell me! Don’t do this to yourself!” Every head in the room turned to look at me. When Serena saw me, a flash of joy crossed her cold eyes, but it was instantly replaced by a glacial frost. “Who the hell is this guy?” the man demanded, glaring at me. “You’re calling my fiancée’s name like you know her.” I was about to declare who I was when Serena cut me off. Her beautiful brows furrowed. “He’s just some pathetic dog who follows me around. Have security throw him out. Ignore him.” A pathetic dog? I could feel the contempt in every stare directed at me. Who ever respects a desperate follower? But that wasn’t me. Serena and I met at a club fair. I had just finished playing basketball and was starving, so I swiped some snacks from my roommate. He gave me some grief and jokingly told me to call him “daddy.” It was just dorm-room banter, so I did it. Serena, who happened to overhear, stepped in to defend me. She said you shouldn’t bully people just because they’re poor, but then she also told me off for stealing. She had that take-charge, justice-warrior personality. So, I played the part of the poor, pitiful guy. I followed her around everywhere, and before long, we were together. The whole campus knew she was “keeping” me. People would whisper about her and her boy toy. Worried it would embarrass her, I told her my family was actually loaded. She just shrugged it off. Our four years together weren’t some epic romance, but our love was deep and sweet. We almost never fought. That’s why I couldn’t accept her sudden departure. I had to know why. I stared at her on the stage and started walking toward her. Before I could say a word, the short man stepped in front of me. He was so short he had to crane his neck to look up at me. “You’ve got some nerve coming up here.” He jumped, trying to slap me. I stepped back, dodging the blow, and looked at Serena. “You broke up with me to marry this… thing?” “What are you talking about?” Serena strode forward and slapped me across the face. I had dodged the man’s attack. But I didn’t dodge hers. She was wearing high heels, and I was afraid she would fall. She was about to marry someone else, and I was still worried about her. How pathetic was I? I touched my stinging cheek, my eyes filled with pain. “So, you’re Serena’s college boyfriend?” the man sneered, stepping closer. “A kept man, trying to act tough in front of me? Do you know who I am? I’m Cole Miller. The Millers are the richest family in this city.” I ignored him, my eyes still on Serena. “Leaving without a word. That’s not fair to me.” “Fair?” she retorted. “The villa, the car, the money… I gave you everything. What more do you want? Stop making a scene, Liam. We’re over.” Her brows were knitted together. “You know how it is for people from my kind of family. Love and marriage are separate. Thank you for the last four years, but my husband can only be Cole Miller. Do you understand?” “I’m only asking you one thing,” I said, my gaze unwavering. “Do you love me?” I knew all about arranged marriages between wealthy families. My own parents were a product of one. But they were lucky; they had grown up together, childhood sweethearts whose love story was a natural progression. As for me… I was supposed to have an arranged marriage too, but I didn’t have to. My family’s standing in New York was so secure, we didn’t need alliances to maintain it. “Love?” she scoffed. “Don’t be ridiculous, Liam. I’ve known since I was a child that I would have an arranged marriage. I don’t believe in love. I was with you because you were good-looking and poor enough to be easily controlled.” A sarcastic smile played on her lips. “There. You have your answer. Now go.” So, what I thought was a deep, sweet love was just an illusion. In her eyes, I was just a handsome, obedient boy toy. How laughable. I nodded. If that’s how it was, then so be it. My heart ached, but I could let go. I came here to win her back. If I couldn’t, I would walk away. I looked at her, a bitter smile on my face. “Alright then. I wish you happiness.” With that, I turned to leave the stage. Serena’s hand clenched, but she looked away, refusing to meet my eyes. But Cole Miller blocked my path, a sneer on his face. “Since you’re here, you might as well stay for the ceremony. If you leave, you’re disrespecting me, the Miller family, and the entire city!” “That’s a bold claim,” I said with a laugh. I’d heard lines like that before. New York is a big city; not everyone knows who I am. It’s inevitable that some people will try to act tough in front of me. But after I put a few of them in their place, the talk died down. Cole didn’t catch the disdain in my voice. He clapped his hands. Suddenly, a group of men in black suits emerged, surrounding the stage. “Kid, if I’m not happy today, you’re not walking out of here,” Cole said. Serena rushed over, glaring at me. “Get out of here! I don’t want to see you again!” “Did I say you could speak?” Cole’s face turned cold. “You think I’m a fool? You think I can’t see you’re protecting him?” Protecting me? I looked deeply at Serena and saw the worry in her eyes. Maybe what she said earlier was a lie. But she shook her head. “I just don’t want anything to do with my past. And besides, it’s our engagement party. What does it look like if my ex-boyfriend is here? It’s embarrassing for you.” Her tone softened. “Cole, I’m thinking of you.” Cole’s expression eased slightly, but he still said, “I’m not afraid of being embarrassed. In this city, I am God!” He pointed at me. “Go sit down and watch the ceremony.” I nodded, a half-smile playing on my lips as I glanced at Serena, and walked off the stage. The moment I stepped down, four men in black suits surrounded me. They led me to a corner table and sat me down. They were making sure I couldn’t escape. From the stage, Cole called out to me, “You just sit there and watch, kid. You’re not leaving until I say so.” “If you don’t let me leave now,” I said with a faint smile, “when you want me to leave, I might not want to.” “Shut up!” Serena snapped. I just smiled and said nothing. They wanted to play this game. They shouldn’t blame me for what happened next. Cole added, “I hear you’re from New York. That’s great. Some important people from the city are coming later, all from the upper crust. I’ll introduce you. It’ll be a real eye-opener for you.” “Well, thank you in advance,” I said, unable to suppress another laugh. Just then, a group of young, arrogant-looking people walked over. Cole’s friends, no doubt. “Kid, you must have a death wish.” “You really think Serena can protect you?” “Let me tell you, even if you hadn’t shown up today, Cole wasn’t going to let you off the hook. You think he’d let the man who slept with his fiancée for four years live?” “I’ve got my phone here. Should I call the cops for you?” They laughed openly. I kept my head down, fiddling with my phone, not bothering to engage with them. But one thing was clear: Serena was trying to protect me. The engagement ceremony soon ended. Next was the reception, a time for guests to eat, drink, and network. Cole led Serena from table to table, accepting fawning compliments from everyone. I had taken a moment to look up the Miller family. They were indeed the richest in the city, but they were new money, with no real heritage. They had risen to prominence because of connections in New York, which allowed them to secure major projects in the city. But they had never managed to break into the city’s old-money society. So, the guests here today were either dependent on the Millers or were Serena’s family and friends. Serena’s family, on the other hand, was old money, but they had fallen on hard times. The marriage was a mutually beneficial arrangement. The Millers wanted a ticket into high society. Marrying a woman from an established family was their way in. Serena’s family wanted money to restore their former glory. I had seen countless marriages like this growing up. It was nothing new. It was a tale as old as time. Marriage, after all, has always been a strategic move. Just then, a young girl, maybe sixteen or seventeen, sat down next to me. She had a sweet, pretty face with a hint of baby fat, and she looked a lot like Serena. “I’m Sophie, your ex-girlfriend’s sister.” “Don’t say a word. Just come with me.” She looked adorable, but her voice was ice-cold. She grabbed my hand. But I didn’t move. “Did your sister send you?” “What do you think?” she said, frowning. “Let’s go, now, or you won’t be able to leave!” At that moment, several men in black suits closed in on us.

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My stepbrother hated my guts. But that never stopped me from clinging to him. He paid me two thousand dollars to walk home from school without him. Thirty thousand to transfer out of his class. Each time, though, I’d eventually find my way back to him. After graduation, he wired a huge sum of money into my account. His voice was cold as ice. “That’s five million dollars. Go study abroad. And don’t ever show your face in my family’s house again.” My eyes welled up. I lowered my head and whispered, “Okay.” Yes. He finally took the bait. 1. I walked in on Glenn and the scholarship girl almost kissing. In the dim light of the private room, he was slumped wearily in a corner sofa, his eyes closed. The shadows obscured the sharp, handsome lines of his face. A girl in a white dress stood over him, her hands braced on either side of his head. She leaned in tentatively, her face getting closer and closer to his. That’s when I pushed the door open. She jumped, whirling around to face me with a panicked look. Her eyes were wide and glistening, like a startled fawn. “Alicia, I…” I walked right past her, straight to Glenn. “The driver’s here for me. Dad told me to bring you home, too.” He grabbed his jacket from the sofa, threw it on, and followed me out. The hallway was mostly empty at this hour. He pulled the door shut behind him but didn’t move. He just leaned against it, his posture lazy and loose. “She was about to kiss me.” “…” I said nothing. A note of annoyance crept into his voice. “She’s shy. It took a lot of courage for her to do that.” I unlocked my phone and showed him the time, along with the text from my stepfather. “Dad really did tell me to come get you,” I explained in a small voice. He glanced at the screen and gave a dismissive grunt. “Oh.” “I’m an adult now. I’ve graduated. He can’t control me anymore. Tattling to him won’t do you any good.” The swirling, multicolored lights from the club swept over us, illuminating his face. His cheeks were flushed. He was drunk. I clenched the fabric of my sleeves, my voice barely a whisper. “But…” He cut me off. “Just go home by yourself.” “And one more thing—” His thumbs tapped rapidly on his phone screen. “That’s five million dollars. Go study abroad. Don’t ever show your face in my family’s house again.” “Let’s just not see each other anymore.” “Alicia, I really, truly hate you.” He never wanted to see me again. My eyes instantly turned red. I ducked my head, choking back a sob. “Okay.” Glenn turned, walked back into the private room, and slammed the door shut behind him. I opened my banking app and checked the balance. The number was correct. I couldn’t hold it in any longer. I squatted down, clamping a hand over my mouth to stifle a laugh that sounded suspiciously like a sob. Yes. He finally took the bait. 2. Glenn had hated me for a long time. He was convinced that my mother and I were just gold diggers, after his family’s money. He wasn’t wrong. When I was fourteen, he put two lizards in my bed, trying to scare me into leaving. It worked. I burst into tears. To comfort me, my stepfather gave me some extra allowance. The sight of the money cheered me right up. When I was sixteen, Glenn and I were placed in the same high school, in the same homeroom. He couldn’t stand the thought of it, but he also didn’t want our father to punish him and then console me. So, he skipped a few steps. “Thirty thousand dollars.” “Transfer out of this class.” Freshman year, I left. Sophomore year, I came back. He never specified a time limit. When I walked back into the classroom with my backpack on, Glenn’s face was thunderous. The boy sitting in front of him grinned. “Dude, your stepsister is persistent.” Glenn’s voice was frigid. “She is not my sister.” A few people snickered knowingly. Glenn’s glare found me, his brow furrowed. “What will it take for you to just disappear?” My eyes welled with tears. “Do you really hate me that much?” He held up a number of fingers. I bit my lip. “Sorry, wrong classroom.” 3. I had discovered a gold mine. Glenn was loaded. His mother, who lived abroad, had already paved his entire future for him. When he played golf, I’d tag along as his personal hype squad, holding his water and his jacket. He’d confront me. I’d just look up at him with stars in my eyes. “I just admire my big brother. Is that so wrong?” He’d send me money. “If you have nothing better to do, go shopping. Just stop bothering me.” I was more than happy to oblige. I spent over a year sticking to Glenn like glue. Everyone knew about his clingy stepsister. They even made jokes about our… complicated family dynamic. After a while, Glenn couldn’t even be bothered to explain anymore. He just kept throwing money at me to get lost. But I would never abandon my personal ATM. On his eighteenth birthday, he got drunk. When he stumbled home from the hotel, I was waiting with a cup of sobering tea in one hand, ready to support him with the other. I was hoping he’d be so drunk he’d add an extra zero to his next transfer. He squinted, his eyes drifting down to me. “Alicia,” he slurred, a hint of mockery in his voice, “you’re really something else. So calculating.” My foot froze on the step. Insults cost extra. Suddenly, he grabbed my waist, flicked off the lights, and pinned me against the railing of the spiral staircase. My world went dark. All I could see was his face, impossibly close. His breath was a storm, hot and fierce, as his lips crashed down on mine. Shocked, I shoved him away. The bowl in my hand clattered to the floor, rolling down the stairs with a series of loud thuds. From the top of the stairs, my stepfather called out, “Alicia, what’s wrong?” I suppressed the tremor in my voice and put on my usual wounded act. “It’s Glenn! He’s drunk and throwing a tantrum. He smashed my bowl.” In the darkness, Glenn leaned against the railing, silent. My stepfather sighed. “That’s just how he is. He gets crazy when he drinks. Don’t mind him. You go on to bed. I’ll help him up.” I fled to my room. At 3 a.m., I got a text from Glenn. [Sorry.] [I wasn’t thinking straight. I thought you were someone else.] It was the first time he’d ever apologized to me. And it was a complete humiliation. It came with a money transfer. I didn’t accept it. I didn’t reply. 4. Later, I found out who that “someone else” was. One of Glenn’s many admirers: Lila, a scholarship student who was consistently in the top ten of our year. She was timid and insecure, content to worship him from afar. And for some reason, Glenn noticed her. “She’s just like Alicia,” he’d said once. “Always putting on that pathetic, pitiful act.” “Who does she think she’s fooling?” He hated it in me, but he seemed to enjoy seeing it in Lila. One day, after school, I was waiting in the car for him. I saw him walk out, followed by a girl in a school uniform. The car door opened. He didn’t get in. He was holding her backpack. He just raised an eyebrow at me and said, “Get out.” I froze. Lila gently tugged on his arm, her voice soft. “It’s fine, Glenn. I can get home by myself.” He didn’t budge, his tone turning colder. “I’m taking her home.” “I’ve sent you the money. Take a cab.” Why not send enough for me to buy my own car? Whatever. I knew when to quit while I was ahead. I gave a humiliated nod, bit my lip, and clutched my backpack straps as I climbed out of the car. The evening rush had faded. I stood alone on the sidewalk, staring at my shoes as tears dripped onto the pavement, one by one. Only after the car had disappeared in the opposite direction did I finally wipe my eyes and check the notification from Glenn. $2,000? Good thing I didn’t check that in front of him. I wouldn’t have been able to cry. 5. Glenn’s five million dollars came too late for me to apply properly for the fall semester. I hadn’t prepared for the GMAT or anything. I had to cancel most of my summer plans and lock myself in my room to study vocabulary. Meanwhile, Glenn was downstairs, throwing a party with his friends. The music was blasting. I took off my headphones and went downstairs. “Could you guys turn it down a little?” One of Glenn’s friends patted the empty spot next to him on the sofa. “Alicia, you’re home! Why don’t you join us?” I smiled shyly. “I’m studying upstairs.” “Studying?” Someone finally turned off the music. “I thought people who grind this hard only existed online.” “Even Lila’s here. Come on, take a break.” Glenn didn’t even look up. Lila was sitting next to him. She gave me a gentle smile, then looked at me with faux concern. “Alicia, you’re not planning to retake the year, are you?” I didn’t know her that well. Her using my first name so casually meant things were probably getting serious with Glenn. “It’s okay if you didn’t do well,” she continued. “Your dad is so rich, I’m sure you have plenty of other options.” The room went quiet as everyone sensed the tension. I kept my voice even. “You’re right. My family is rich. It doesn’t matter how I do on some test.” I looked at her. “Lila, are you worried you didn’t do well?” Her face went pale. Glenn finally looked up and patted the back of her hand reassuringly. “Alicia, that’s out of line.” I nodded. “You’re right.” “I’m going back to my room. Please keep it down.” I put my headphones back on and walked up the stairs, feeling several pairs of eyes burning into my back. 6. On the day the exam results were released, Lila was at our house again. This time, her excuse was that her family’s ancient computer had broken down. Even though Glenn knew our province sent results via text, he indulged her and brought her home. Around three in the afternoon, I heard sobbing coming from his study. I couldn’t tell if they were tears of sorrow or joy. The text message didn’t show the total score. Glenn was sitting there with a calculator, adding up her scores subject by subject. I was heading out for a class and walked past his study. The door was open. He was leaning against a bookshelf, reading out the number. “Six seventy-two.” He said it just loud enough for me to hear. He knew I was walking by. He didn’t even look up. “What about you?” he asked, though he wasn’t looking at me. Lila was confused. “What?” I paused at the bottom of the stairs, pulling on my shoes, and called back casually, “Six eighty.” I’d done better than expected. I just waited for him to ask. There was a sudden, sharp clatter from the study, as if something had been dropped. 7. “My dad wants you to apply to NYU.” That evening, Glenn was standing outside my bedroom door. My stepfather was traditional. He valued education and believed his children attending top universities was a reflection on him. I gripped the doorknob, wanting to shut the door in his face. “But you told me to go abroad.” “…” Glenn was silent for a moment, then he smirked. “So you’re actually going to listen to me for once?” I took the money, didn’t I? Though, in the past, I usually only listened halfway. He’d tell me to get lost, I’d get lost for an hour, and then I’d come right back. But this time was different. Five million dollars. I promised myself I’d take it and disappear for good. My mom and I could even have holiday dinners at a separate table. “So you’re not going to listen to my dad?” he pressed. I’d spent years playing the part of the good, obedient daughter at home. I lowered my head, bit my lip, and fidgeted with the hem of my skirt, feigning meekness. “Give me your password,” he said. “I’ll fill out your applications for you.” I looked up at him weakly. “Don’t exile me to some college in Alaska.” Glenn let out a soft chuckle. “You know I wouldn’t.” I didn’t know that. And I didn’t care. I was already planning to accept an offer from a university in the UK. 8. To be safe, Glenn applied to NYU’s agricultural science program for himself. For Lila, he chose mechanical engineering. His mother had more than enough money and connections to sort out his career. He just needed the degree from a prestigious school; the major was irrelevant. As for my applications, he filled out all eighty slots with universities in or around New York City. I had to go back and delete every single one. He and Lila were both accepted. He really didn’t seem to care about her future either. My stepfather was thrilled and started planning a celebration dinner. At the table, he opened a bottle of expensive red wine and toasted my mom. Glenn came downstairs, mentioning casually, “Is Alicia having her party with me?” We’d had a joint celebration after middle school, too. My stepfather smiled. “Not yet for Alicia.” “She’s decided to study abroad. To make sure she didn’t take a spot from another student, she deleted all her domestic applications.” “We’ll celebrate for her next year.” The faint smile on Glenn’s lips vanished. His expression turned dark. “Abroad?” I kept my head down, quietly eating and occasionally taking a sip of the ten-thousand-dollar wine. It wasn’t to my taste, but every sip was money in the bank. I’d certainly never buy it for myself. My stepfather frowned. “Yes. It was a bit of a sudden decision, but I fully support her.” He looked at Glenn. “Why the long face on such a happy day?” Glenn’s eyes were downcast. “I’m not happy.” My stepfather was baffled. “You’re the one who said you wanted to go to the same university as the person you like. You got in, and it’s NYU. What’s there to be unhappy about?” “The major isn’t great, but you can always transfer. It’s not like we’re actually going to make you a farmer.” “Your mother is thrilled, too. She wants you to visit her for a month this summer.” “Which country?” Glenn asked. My stepfather slammed his chopsticks down. “You don’t even know which country your own mother lives in?” Glenn’s gaze shifted to me. “I was asking Alicia.” My stepfather quietly picked his chopsticks back up. I set down my wine glass and cautiously met his eyes. “I haven’t decided yet.” 9. That night, Glenn sat in my room, using my computer to look up information. His was broken. When the acceptance letters came out, Lila had gotten so excited she’d knocked a glass of water all over it. Honestly. A grown woman, playing with water in a study. He was in my desk chair, so I had to sit on my bed. The room was silent except for the clicking of the keyboard and mouse. “Go to the US,” he said suddenly. “Why?” He paused. “It’s far away from me.” But it was where his own mother lived. “…” I glanced at him, then scooted further away on my bed. He shot me a look, and the corner of his mouth twitched in what might have been a ghost of a smile. “Come look at this university.” He was playing the big brother again. So unpredictable. The AC was on high. I stepped onto the cold floor, then immediately pulled my foot back, looking for my slippers. Glenn casually tossed the jacket that was draped over his chair onto the floor. “Step on that.” “…” He was starting his nonsense without even being drunk today. I ignored him, tiptoeing around it to get to the desk. His expression didn’t change as he moved the mouse. “What do you think?” “It’s fine,” I said. He clicked through a few different web pages. I just kept repeating myself. “It’s fine.” “They’re all fine.” Glenn stopped clicking. He leaned back in the chair and stared at me. The truth was, I had already made my choice. I just didn’t want to tell him.

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1 After failing to win over my first three targets, I made a final, desperate play: I got engaged to the paralyzed heiress of the Beaumont family. I spent every last point I had with the System to grant her the ability to walk again. The very first thing she did with her newfound strength was to publicly annul our engagement and throw a spectacular wedding at sea for a man named Adrian Thorne. From the deck of a nearby boat, I watched as all four of my targets gazed at Adrian, their faces soft with a tenderness they had never once shown me. A sudden, overwhelming wave of homesickness washed over me. I wanted to go home. So I turned my back on it all and threw myself into the ocean. But as my body hit the cold water, four figures dove in after me, their expressions twisted in masks of terror and regret. … On the lavish yacht, Seraphina Beaumont, radiant in her wedding gown, was sharing a blissful kiss with Adrian. As the guests cheered, the System’s mechanical voice echoed in my mind. 【Host has failed the mission. You will be terminated in fifteen days.】 A bitter smile touched my lips. I had been reborn into this body, transmigrated from my own world with a single purpose. The System had given me four targets. If I could get just one of them to a 100% affection score, my original body, riddled with a terminal illness, would be cured. For years, I had debased myself, humbled myself, and catered to their every whim. But every single time, just as I was about to reach that final threshold, Adrian Thorne would appear, and my progress would be wiped clean, my affection scores reset to zero. And now, my very last target was marrying him. With that thought, I walked to the edge of the deck and let myself fall into the deep, dark water. The ocean embraced me, a cold, silent shroud. I spread my arms, surrendering to the crushing weight, letting my body sink toward the abyss. But then, an arm hooked around my chest, dragging me back toward the suffocating light. Fresh air flooded my lungs, and before I could even register what was happening, a vicious slap sent my head snapping to the side. “You chose Adrian’s wedding to pull a stunt like this? You just had to ruin it for all of us, didn’t you?” I wiped a trickle of blood from my lip and looked up into the disgusted eyes of the woman who held me. The pain in my heart was a familiar, throbbing ache. My sister, Clarissa Rhodes. My first target in this world. After our parents died, we had only each other. When the car crashed, I hadn’t hesitated to shield her with my own body, taking the brunt of the impact. It left me with ruptured organs and a long stay in the ICU. She had wept over my hospital bed, promising that no matter what, she would always protect me. We were, she’d said, the only family we had left. But the day I was discharged, she brought Adrian home, announcing he was our new “little brother.” She moved him into my room and did nothing when he tortured my dog of eight years to death. Every argument between Adrian and me, she took his side, calling me petty and cruel for not being more welcoming. The ninety-seven points of affection I had painstakingly earned over eight years were erased by Adrian in less than a week. From that day on, her affection for me plummeted, and she eventually stopped acknowledging me as her brother at all. Seeing me sitting there, dazed and silent, Clarissa fished a bottle of heart medication from her purse and threw it at my chest. “Are you going to fake another heart attack? Take your pills and get the hell out of my sight!” I didn’t have a heart condition. The chest pains were a punishment from the System. In the past, she’d always carried these pills out of fear for my life. Now, her gesture held no warmth. I picked up the bottle, twisted off the cap, and poured a handful of the small white pills into my mouth. Clarissa’s eyes widened in shock. “Ethan, are you insane?!” she shrieked, slapping the pills from my hand. The bitter tablets scattered across the deck. She gripped my wrist, her hand trembling. I wasn’t insane. I just wanted to go home. I wanted one last chance to say goodbye to my real sister. I remained silent. Clarissa shot me a venomous glare. As a crowd of wedding guests began to gather, she impatiently ordered her bodyguards to drag me off the boat. Just as I set foot back on the main yacht’s deck, I heard the click of high heels behind me. A sweet, melodic voice followed. “Ethan, what are you doing here?” A soft gasp. “Oh my god, you’re soaked!” I turned to see Seraphina Beaumont, the woman who was almost my wife. A sliver of warmth pierced through the icy despair in my chest. So, she did still care, didn’t she? 2 As I opened my mouth to speak, her hand flew out and struck me across the face, the force of it sending me stumbling. “Did you really think I’d give you a second look just because you pull a stunt like this? Don’t make me laugh!” she sneered. “You’ve disrupted my wedding, and I promise you, you will pay for it.” Before I could react, she grabbed me by the throat, her grip like iron, and forced the upper half of my body over the railing, dangling me above the churning waves. The world began to blur as the air was crushed from my lungs, but I didn’t struggle. Maybe it’s better this way, I thought. To just die. I closed my eyes, ready to accept the end. But my passivity seemed to unnerve her. She yanked me back onto the deck, her eyes wide with a strange mix of shock and fury. “Why aren’t you fighting back? Why aren’t you saying anything? Do you actually want to die?!” Would she believe me if I tried to explain? I had tried so many times before, but she’d always dismissed my words as pathetic excuses, pushing her further and further into Adrian’s arms. A cold, hollow laugh escaped my lips. “I’ve already lost everything. Death doesn’t seem so bad.” Seraphina’s face went pale. She seized the front of my shirt, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “Your life is mine to take! You don’t have my permission to die!” When we were first engaged, her family had despised me, doing everything in their power to break us apart. To defy them, she had endured her family’s brutal ‘discipline’ time and time again, beaten black and blue but never yielding. When I found out, I went to the Beaumont estate and took the punishments in her stead. As I lay bleeding and broken, she had held me, making me promise that I would never, ever die without her permission. I looked up at her, about to speak, when a small, delicate girl pushed her way through the crowd. Lily. My second target. My best friend in this world. She didn’t say a word. She just ground her heel into my cheek and threw a stack of photographs at my chest. “Since you had the nerve to ruin Adrian’s day, I have no reason to spare your dignity, Ethan!” The photos scattered around me. Me, tied up and beaten like a dog. Me, forced down and ridden like an animal. Me, stripped naked with the word ‘TRASH’ carved into my skin. Lily had taken every single one. She had an artist’s eye, carefully framing each shot to capture the humiliation on my face in perfect, sharp detail. She did it all because I had exposed Adrian for cheating in a photography competition, shaming him in front of everyone. As the crowd gasped and jeered, Lily raised her camera and snapped a picture of me, kneeling and broken on the deck. In the corner of the camera, a small, elegant engraving glinted in the light. Lily & Ethan It was a gift from me. Her mother had died when she was young, and her father was a monster who brought home a string of cruel women. They took pleasure in tormenting her. We became friends by chance, and one night, I fought off one of her father’s lecherous friends to protect her. The beating I took left me temporarily blind. To comfort her, I gave her the camera and asked her to capture all the beauty in the world that I could no longer see. My vision returned, but her passion for photography remained. Until, one day, her camera started filling with pictures of Adrian. “Get on your knees and apologize to Adrian right now,” she said, her voice like ice. “Or I will post every single one of these online and see how you ever show your face in public again.” When I didn’t move, her voice dropped even lower. She grabbed me by the collar and hauled me to my feet, but my body was too weak. I crumpled, my knees hitting the hard deck with a sickening crack. Seraphina frowned, taking a step forward to help me, but Lily blocked her path. “Don’t be fooled by his pathetic act, Miss Beaumont. I trusted him once, and because of me, Adrian can never take another photograph.” She glared down at me. “Ethan, you were so desperate to beat Adrian in that competition that you not only hired thugs to assault him and take those disgusting photos, but you also framed him for cheating. If I hadn’t gotten there in time, Adrian would have killed himself!” Hearing this, Seraphina’s expression hardened into pure loathing. “Get out of here,” she hissed. “If you disrupt this wedding any further, I will personally ensure that everything Adrian suffered happens to you, ten times over. I’ll make you—” I didn’t wait to hear the rest. I scrambled to my feet and ran, not toward the exit, but straight for the busy road just beyond the pier. A massive truck was thundering toward me. I closed my eyes, ready for the impact. But just before the end, a body slammed into mine, shoving me out of the way. 3 Seraphina dragged herself toward me, her leg bleeding and bent at an unnatural angle, and seized my collar. “Who are you trying to impress with this death wish, Ethan? Do you think this makes me feel sorry for you?!” At the same time, the System’s voice chimed in. 【Host, detecting a rise in Seraphina Beaumont’s affection score. Do you wish to resume the mission?】 I stared at her in shock. She was already on her phone, telling her assistant to cancel the rest of the wedding ceremony. She felt my gaze and looked up, her expression unreadable. I calmly looked away. “No.” All I want now is to go home. A driver took me back to my small apartment. It was only then that I noticed the scrapes and bruises covering my body, caked with a mixture of grime and dried blood. I found a first-aid kit and was about to clean the wounds when the door was kicked open. Lily stormed in, her face contorted with rage, and kicked me squarely in the stomach. “Where did you take Adrian? If anything happens to him, I’ll make you wish you were never born!” Seraphina and Clarissa followed her in, their expressions just as menacing. “So that’s what this was all about,” Clarissa sneered. “All those pathetic suicide attempts were just a distraction to cover your tracks. I’m telling you, Ethan, if Adrian is harmed in any way, I will kill you myself.” I had no idea where he was. But their words sparked a dark, desperate thought. If they cared about him that much… maybe his disappearance would finally push them over the edge. Maybe they would finally kill me. Seeing my silence, a flicker of pure hatred crossed Seraphina’s face. “It seems you won’t talk unless we give you a reason to.” She grabbed a bottle of rubbing alcohol from the first-aid kit and poured it directly onto my open wounds. The sharp, searing pain made my body seize. A cold sweat broke out across my forehead. But they weren’t finished. Bodyguards pinned my arms and legs to the floor. Lily returned with a pair of fire tongs, glowing red-hot from the stove, while Seraphina continued to douse my cuts with alcohol. I was terrified. I wanted to die, but not like this, not tortured to death! I thrashed wildly, but a heavy blow to the back of my head silenced my struggles. Blood streamed down my face, and the strength drained from my limbs. I could barely whisper. “Just… kill me…” My defiance only seemed to fuel Seraphina’s rage. She grabbed a fruit knife from the kitchen counter and knelt over me. The tip of the blade, gleaming with cold light, hovered less than an inch from my left eye. “Do you really think this will make us feel pity? I’ll ask you one last time. Where is Adrian?!” My face was ashen, but I forced my lips into a triumphant, mocking smile. “Adrian? Oh, I killed him,” I rasped. “I threw his body into the sea for the sharks!” I looked at each of them, my voice rising with a delirious, final burst of energy. “You all loved him so much, didn’t you? You all wanted to marry him! Too bad that will never happen now.” “So go on! Kill me! Avenge your precious Adrian!” Seraphina’s eyes blazed. With a guttural scream of pure fury, she plunged the knife deep into my chest. My body went limp. As the world faded to black, a cheerful, familiar voice drifted in from the courtyard. “Hey, what’s everyone doing here? I brought snacks! Ah! Why is there so much blood?”

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The financial aid application from a girl in my major was flagged. An error. I tried adding her on Instagram to give her a heads-up on how to fix it. I sent a request. And then, a little while later, sent it again. Both times, the request was denied. The second time, it came with a note attached to her now-private profile: My boyfriend doesn’t like me adding random guys. My roommate, Mason, was the one who told me to check the department’s GroupMe. That’s where I saw she was tearing me to shreds. “I mean, I rejected him twice already. You’d think he’d get the hint. How desperate can you be?” “Another one of those guys who thinks he’s God’s gift. Seriously, does the toad really think he has a shot with the princess?” I had to laugh. Me, the sole heir to a multi-billion-dollar corporation, a toad? 1 Mason shoved his phone in my face, and I scrolled through the chat log that was exploding in our department’s GroupMe. The one leading the charge was a girl named Scarlett Rhodes. Our major’s undisputed queen bee. Her profile picture was a professionally edited selfie. Perfect makeup, a gaze that managed to be both alluring and dismissive. I frowned but didn’t say anything, just handed the phone back to Mason. “Whatever. Let her talk.” I’m the student liaison for my department, which basically means I’m the TA for the freshman seminar and a glorified assistant to our academic advisor. Collecting and organizing student paperwork is part of the job. Scarlett was applying for the Polaris Foundation Scholarship, one of the most generous—and scrutinized—grants at our university. It’s backed by a massive private foundation, and the entire process is firewalled from the school. The university just collects the initial applications. When I was sorting the files, Scarlett’s application immediately stood out. In the box for annual family income, she’d added an extra zero. $300,000. The eligibility cutoff for the scholarship was a family income under $80,000. The foundation’s automated system would see that number and instantly kick her application out in the first round. Technically, it wasn’t my problem. My job was just to collect and submit. But then I read her personal statement. A father with a chronic illness, a mother working odd jobs to make ends meet. Every sentence painted a picture of struggle. I felt for her. It seemed like she could really use the break. I just wanted to give her a heads-up. Tagging her in the main GroupMe was the easiest way, but it would have been humiliating for her, putting her financial situation on blast for everyone to see. After a moment of hesitation, I chose the more considerate, albeit more difficult, route: a private message on Instagram. I thought it was a simple act of kindness. Turns out, no good deed goes unpunished. And now I was “the toad.” A few of her cronies were already chiming in on the chat. “Don’t let it get to you, Scarlett. Some people just don’t know their place.” “For real. He sees a pretty girl and thinks he can just slide into her DMs. Like, look in a mirror, dude.” “Toad trying to get with a princess. Pathetic!” Then, a user with the handle “Scarlett’s Knight,” whose profile pic was him leaning against a sports car, jumped in. “Who’s the clown harassing my girl? Give me a name. I’ll make sure he doesn’t walk straight on campus again.” That would be her boyfriend, Blake, a trust-fund kid with too much time on his hands. Scarlett replied instantly: “Oh, Blake, don’t be so aggressive! He’s just some guy in our classes. Probably just… gets a little carried away, you know.” That ellipsis she used was a work of art. It screamed delusional obsession without her having to type a single word. A fresh wave of laughing-face emojis flooded the chat. Mason was fuming. “Leo, this girl is unbelievable. You were trying to help her.” “You should just call her out right here, right now. Expose her.” I shook my head, handing his phone back. “It’s not worth it. You can’t reason with people like that.” My silence in the chat was apparently taken as an admission of guilt. Scarlett posted one more message. “Awww, he’s not even saying anything now. Guess the truth hurts. lol.” I locked my phone screen. Out of sight, out of mind. It was just an application form. If she didn’t care enough to get it right, why should I? It was her future. Her loss. 2 The next day, the vibe on campus was different. I could feel it. As I walked down the hall, a group of students who had been laughing together suddenly went silent when they saw me. Their eyes were filled with a uniform, undisguised contempt. When I entered the lecture hall, it felt like every head in the room turned in my direction. Scarlett was holding court in the center of the room, surrounded by a few of her friends. She was wearing a delicate white dress, her long hair falling perfectly over her shoulders. She looked ethereal. She saw me, and the smile on her face faltered for a second. It was quickly replaced by a look of disgust, mixed with a hint of smug satisfaction. The girls around her immediately started whispering, pointing at me. “That’s him?” “He looks so normal. I thought he’d be creepier.” “Scarlett, has he bothered you again?” Scarlett lifted her chin, her voice just loud enough for half the room to hear. “What more can he do? After everyone called him out in the GroupMe yesterday, he’s basically a social pariah now.” A ripple of laughter went through her circle. I ignored them, my face a mask of indifference, and walked to an empty seat in the back row. I took out my textbook. For the rest of the morning, I could feel their eyes on me. Little pinpricks of judgment that made it impossible to concentrate. At lunch, I had just gotten my food and sat down at a table in the corner of the dining hall. A moment later, Scarlett and Blake appeared, their trays clattering as they sat down directly across from me. Blake had bleached-blond hair, an earring, and was draped in designer streetwear. He was trying very hard to look intimidating. “Well, well, if it isn’t the toad himself—” Scarlett cut him off with a sharp nudge. She then leaned against his shoulder, adopting a wounded, fragile expression. “Blake, can we eat somewhere else? Just looking at him makes me lose my appetite.” Blake’s face immediately softened into a look of concern. “Of course, baby. Don’t get upset. He’s not worth it.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small jewelry box, flicking it open in front of me. Inside was a glittering necklace. I recognized the Swarovski swan logo. “Ta-da! Look what I got for you. Had a friend pick it up in New York yesterday. It’s the latest design.” Scarlett gasped, covering her mouth. “Wow, it’s beautiful! Blake, you’re the best.” The display drew the attention of students at the surrounding tables. Blake shot me a triumphant glare, his eyes brimming with smug provocation. It was a look that screamed: See this, you loser? What could you possibly offer her compared to me? I kept my head down, silently pushing the tasteless Salisbury steak around my plate. I could tell the necklace was a knockoff from ten feet away. The clasp on a genuine Swarovski piece would never be that crude. 3 I had the afternoon off, but a call from my academic advisor, Mr. Davies, summoned me to his office. Mr. Davies was in his forties, with thick black-rimmed glasses and a perpetually serious expression. When I walked in, I saw Scarlett was already there. She was sitting across from him, her eyes red-rimmed as if she’d been subjected to some great injustice. The moment she saw me, she physically recoiled, her eyes widening in feigned terror. She was a hell of an actress. Mr. Davies cleared his throat loudly, adjusting his glasses. “Leo, you’re here. Have a seat.” I pulled a chair out and sat. “Mr. Davies, you wanted to see me?” His eyes lingered on my face for a few seconds, laced with disapproval. “Leo, you’re a good student. You work hard, you’re diligent in your duties. The faculty sees that.” His tone shifted. “However, you need to be mindful of how you interact with your peers. You must maintain an appropriate distance.” He paused for emphasis. “Especially with female students.” A knot formed in my stomach. “Sir, I’m not sure what you’re referring to.” On cue, Scarlett’s sniffling grew louder. “Mr. Davies, it’s my fault… my family’s situation… I didn’t want any of this. I just wanted to lessen their burden a little. I never thought applying for a scholarship would lead to… this kind of trouble.” She let out a sob, then casually added, “My boyfriend was so angry when he found out. His father knows some people on the Polaris Foundation’s board, and he said he’s going to make sure they hear about this…” Mr. Davies’s expression changed instantly. His gaze on her became noticeably more sympathetic, almost fawning. He quickly reassured her. “Scarlett, this is not your fault. Rest assured, the university will handle this matter seriously.” He turned back to me, his tone hardening. “Leo. You sent an Instagram request to Ms. Rhodes. After she declined it, why did you send it again?” “This young woman has made it clear that she has a boyfriend and is not interested in your advances.” “Do you understand that your behavior has caused Ms. Rhodes significant distress?” I tried to explain. “Sir, I was only trying to contact her because of her scholarship application—” “Enough!” Mr. Davies cut me off, his patience gone. “If there was an issue with her application, you could have addressed it publicly in the GroupMe, or you could have come to me. Why did you insist on contacting her privately?” “It’s hard not to question your motives in this situation!” I stared at his self-righteous face, the words of my defense catching in my throat. “Sir, if that’s what you’ve chosen to believe, then I have nothing more to say.” “Is that your attitude?” He slammed his hand on the desk. “Leo, I am warning you. Cease this inappropriate behavior immediately. Stay away from Ms. Rhodes!” “If this happens again, I won’t hesitate to write you up for disciplinary action!” Scarlett stood off to the side, a smug, triumphant look on her face. I stood up, not giving either of them another glance, and walked out of the office. The door clicked shut behind me, silencing Scarlett’s fake sobs. I stood in the empty hallway, staring out the window at the bleak, overcast sky. It felt like a block of cement had settled in my chest, heavy and suffocating. 4 In the days that followed, I became a ghost in my own department. No one spoke to me. If they saw me coming, they would physically alter their path to avoid me. There were always whispers, always poorly concealed smirks and laughs at my expense. “The obsessive stalker.” “He should take a look in the mirror.” “I heard Mr. Davies chewed him out. Serves him right.” Scarlett, meanwhile, was relentless. Almost every day, she’d post something passive-aggressive on her Instagram story or in the GroupMe. “Spotted someone lurking in the corner of the library again today. Can’t seem to shake him.” Attached was a blurry photo of my profile. “Ugh, it feels like I’m being swarmed by a fly. Buzz, buzz, buzz.” Mason wanted to fight her in the chat, but I held him back. It was pointless. Anything I said now would just be seen as a defensive lie. I poured all my energy into my studies and a research project I was helping one of my professors with. The library and the lab became my only sanctuaries, the only places I could find a moment’s peace. The final submission deadline for the Polaris Scholarship arrived. Ten minutes before the cutoff, I dropped off the stack of alphabetized applications at the university’s financial aid office. Scarlett’s form was in there, right between Richards and Scott. The glaring error was still there. She hadn’t changed it. Maybe she forgot. Maybe she didn’t think it was important. Or maybe, she never even bothered to double-check her own work. As I handed the stack of files to the administrator, I hesitated for a fraction of a second. In the end, I said nothing. You think you’re so untouchable? Fine. Pay the price for your own arrogance and stupidity. A week later, the list of first-round qualifiers was posted online. Scarlett’s name was not on it. Just as I expected. That afternoon, I was walking back from the library when I saw Scarlett and Blake arguing by the campus lake. “I thought you said your dad knew people on the board! What the hell happened?” Scarlett’s voice was shrill. “How am I supposed to know! Maybe they’re just stricter this year,” Blake shot back, clearly annoyed. “You can’t even handle one little thing for me! What good are you?” “Are you seriously trying to blame me, Scarlett? Your application was rejected because you filled it out wrong. Who’s fault is that?” “What are you talking about? What did I do wrong?” “The rejection email from the system was crystal clear: ‘Error in reporting annual family income’! You made a rookie mistake, and now you have the nerve to blame me?” Scarlett froze. I could see the moment the memory hit her. The color drained from her face. Her head snapped around, her eyes scanning the crowd until they landed on me, standing a hundred feet away. The look she gave me was pure venom. It was the look of someone who wanted to tear me apart with her bare hands. 5 Our final project for a core class was a group assignment. The teams were assigned randomly by the course software. I stared at the list on my screen, a dull throb starting in my temples. Leo Vance. Scarlett Rhodes. Blake Miller. Plus two of Scarlett’s closest friends. The five of us. One group. You have got to be kidding me. Mason leaned over to look at my screen and let out a string of curses. “Oh, you’re screwed. That’s the group from hell. Dude, you have to go to the professor and get switched out.” I shook my head. Switch? How? What’s my reason? That Scarlett and I are cosmically incompatible? It would just make me look guilty. Sure enough, not long after the list was posted, a new group chat popped up on my phone. Scarlett was the first to type. “Just so we’re all clear, nobody is slacking off. If you drag down our group’s grade, you’ll have to answer to me.” She didn’t use my name, but everyone knew who she was talking to. Blake immediately chimed in: “Yeah, don’t think you can ride our coattails just because you got lucky with the grouping.” The other two girls added their own cheerleading comments. I didn’t say a word. Our first group meeting was at an off-campus coffee shop. I arrived on time. The other four were already there. As soon as I sat down, Scarlett pushed a stack of books and articles across the table toward me. “We’ve decided on the topic and outline. We’re doing ‘The Construction and Propagation of a City’s Image in the New Media Environment.’” “These are the reference materials. You’re in charge of consolidating them and writing the first draft. I want it by next Wednesday.” Her tone was so matter-of-fact, as if she were my boss giving me an assignment. “I’m writing the whole first draft?” I asked. “Well, yeah.” She rolled her eyes. “We’re handling the research, the final PowerPoint design, and the in-class presentation. The work is perfectly divided.” Blake was leaning back in his chair, leg bouncing. “Consider yourself lucky you get to do some work for Scarlett’s grade.” I looked at the four of them. Scarlett and Blake were sipping their lattes. The other two girls were scrolling through their phones. The so-called “reference materials” on the table were just a few textbooks from the library. The spines hadn’t even been cracked. “Fine.” I gathered the books and stood up. “I’ll be in touch.” With that, I turned and walked out. Behind me, I heard Blake’s derisive snort. “What a poser. In the end, he still does what he’s told.” 6 For the next week, the library became my home. I dug through academic journals, compiled data, and analyzed case studies. To add more substance to the report, I even asked my professor to connect me with a former student of his who now worked in the city’s communications department. He sent me some internal reports that weren’t publicly available. On Tuesday night, I sent the 15,000-word first draft to the group chat. The chat remained silent. About half an hour later, Scarlett finally replied. “Got it.” No thank you. No feedback. It was as if I had just completed a simple, expected task. The next evening, I was in the lab helping my professor crunch some numbers when Scarlett called. Her tone was hostile from the start. “Leo, what is this garbage you sent? It’s a complete mess.” I frowned. “What’s wrong with it?” “What’s wrong with it? Everything! The logic is weak, the examples are boring, and the conclusion is flat! Do you even know how to write a research paper?” I fought to keep my voice even. “Then what changes do you suggest?” “How should I know? That’s your job! Look, I don’t care what you do, but I need a revised, better version by tomorrow morning. If our grade suffers because of you, I swear you’ll regret it.” She hung up before I could say another word. I listened to the dial tone, a bitter laugh escaping my lips. A week of my life, poured into that paper, and she dismissed it as worthless. She couldn’t even provide a single specific point of criticism. This was purely about making my life difficult. I went back to my dorm, opened my laptop, and stared at the document. I wasn’t changing a single word. Instead, I renamed the file “Final Draft.” Then, I created a new document. I systematically went through my original work, deleting all the core data analysis, the most compelling case studies, and every piece of information I’d gotten from the internal city reports. What was left was a hollow shell—vague theories and outdated examples you could find on the first page of a Google search. I reformatted this gutted version, and also named it “Final Draft.” Then, I logged into the university’s course portal. I uploaded the original, 15,000-word, comprehensive report as an individual submission under my name only. Only after I had done that did I send the gutted “Final Draft” to our group chat. I tagged everyone. “Report has been revised according to Scarlett’s feedback. Please review.” 7 The submission deadline for the project was Friday at noon. Friday morning, our first class was with the professor for that course. Professor Albright was in her fifties, a brilliant academic with a reputation for being incredibly strict. She had zero tolerance for academic dishonesty or students who didn’t pull their weight in group projects. Just before class started, Scarlett and her friends walked in, dressed to the nines. When she saw me, Scarlett shot me a haughty look and walked right past my desk as if I were invisible. I noticed she was carrying a new Louis Vuitton bag. Looks like Blake was trying to buy his way back into her good graces. I wondered what grade of fake that one was. Professor Albright entered the classroom and set down her notes. “Good morning. I assume everyone has submitted their final reports?” Her gaze swept across the room. “I was looking through the submissions this morning. Most groups submitted on time. However, there is one group I’d like to discuss in class.” The room went dead silent. Professor Albright adjusted her glasses, her eyes finding our row. “The group that worked on ‘The Construction and Propagation of a City’s Image in the New Media Environment.’ Scarlett Rhodes, Blake Miller, Leo Vance…” She read all five of our names. Scarlett’s posture immediately straightened. A smug smile spread across her face. She clearly thought the professor was about to praise our work. Professor Albright’s eyes finally landed on me. “Leo, I also received an individual submission from you on the same topic.” “And I must say, your individual report is comprehensive, well-researched, with novel case studies. Its quality is worlds above the report submitted by your group.” She paused, her voice turning icy. “Now, would someone like to explain to me what, exactly, is going on here?” “Is this a case of a breakdown in teamwork, or is it a case of… someone attempting to take credit for another person’s labor?”

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My father-in-law was dragged for a mile by a drunk driver on his way home from his late-night walk. By the time I got the call, he was already in the morgue, his face unrecognizable. After the police showed me the surveillance footage, I was shaking with a rage so pure it felt like ice in my veins. I swore I would get justice for him. The next day, my husband, Ethan, asked me to meet him at a bistro. He slid a folder across the polished table, the sound sharp in the quiet restaurant. “Ava, what’s done is done. Your father is gone, but Nikki is only twenty-one. She has her whole life ahead of her. You can’t be so vicious as to demand she sacrifice her future for a dead man.” He tapped the folder. “Sign the settlement agreement. Fifty thousand dollars. It’s a fair compensation for your father. We drop the case, and this all goes away.” He leaned in, his voice dropping to a low threat. “Or I’ll make sure you don’t see a single cent.” I didn’t sign. And Ethan, true to his word, made sure I didn’t get a penny. But he never could have imagined that he would be the one kneeling on the courthouse steps, bashing his head against the concrete until it bled, begging for the case to be reopened. 1. “What… what did you just say?” “Fifty thousand? To settle?” I stared at Ethan, the words failing to connect in my brain. The man lying in the morgue right now was his father. His. Ethan had a rough childhood. His mother, unable to handle the poverty, had left when he was just a baby. It was his dad, Bob, who raised him, working two jobs, never complaining, never remarrying because he didn’t want his son to ever feel second best. “What? Is it not enough?” he asked, a flicker of annoyance in his eyes. I opened my mouth, my voice trembling. “This isn’t about the money, Ethan.” I took a breath, trying to soften the blow I thought he was too grief-stricken to process. “The person… the man who died… it was our dad.” I’d braced myself for his breakdown, chosen my words with surgical care. Instead, he glanced at his watch, a frustrated frown creasing his brow. “I know. You don’t have to keep repeating it.” He waved a dismissive hand. “So if it’s not about the money, just sign the damn thing. Don’t waste my time, I have a meeting.” Numbly, I opened the folder. My eyes scanned the legalese, my mind a fog, until a single sentence snapped everything into sharp, horrifying focus. It described my father-in-law bending down to tie his shoe as a deliberate act of “staging an accident for insurance fraud.” It claimed that because of his attempted scam, the driver, a Miss Nicole Sanders, who was feeling unwell at the time, was understandably distracted and failed to notice the “minor impact.” It was a complete and utter fabrication. A desecration. My fingers tightened on the thin sheet of paper. “Did you watch the surveillance video at the police station?” I asked, my voice dangerously quiet. He sighed, took a loud sip of his iced tea, and leaned back in his chair. When he spoke, his voice was a notch too loud. “Watch what? You want me to watch your father trying to scam some poor girl? For Christ’s sake, Ava, he’s a grown man trying to shake down a college kid. Aren’t you embarrassed? Because I am.” “He wasn’t scamming anyone!” “Ethan, he raised you for thirty years. You know him better than anyone. Don’t insult his memory with this… this garbage.” Heads began to turn in our direction. I pushed the folder back toward him. The terror and grief that had been strangling me for twenty-four hours were slowly being replaced by a cold, sharp clarity, an awareness that was chillingly sober. “What ‘raised me’? That was your father, Ava. Are you losing your mind?” I thought I had been perfectly clear, but it was like he was speaking a different language. He glared at me, his patience worn thin. Then, as if remembering something, his expression softened, shifting into a mask of strained compassion. “Look, Ava,” he said, his voice now gentle, patronizing. “I know you’re upset about your father’s passing. It’s a shock. That’s understandable.” “But think about it logically. The man was old. He wasn’t contributing anything to the family anymore. If we’re being honest, he was a financial burden on you. On us.” He shrugged. “If he were alive, do you think he could ever earn another fifty thousand dollars? Or even five? We have to be realistic, honey. If you really think fifty is too low, then name your price.” In that instant, something inside me clicked. A terrible, sickening understanding. I lifted my head, and the smile I gave him was brittle. “So when someone gets old, when they stop earning money, they become a burden? Their life can be slandered, bought off for fifty thousand dollars…?” I held his gaze. “Is that what you think of your own father, too, Ethan?” “Shut up.” He snapped. Like a firecracker, he was on his feet, grabbing his glass of iced tea and throwing the contents in my face. Cold liquid and ice cubes dripped down my chin onto my blouse. “Ava, why do you have to be so goddamn difficult?” he hissed, his face inches from mine. “I’m trying to do what’s best for you, and you sit here and attack my dad? What kind of daughter-in-law are you?” “So you’re not signing it? Fine. I’m telling you right now, you take this to court, you won’t get a dime.” He snatched the settlement agreement off the table and stormed out of the restaurant. My eyes followed him, watched his rigid back as he pushed through the glass doors and disappeared onto the street. The answer was so obvious now. And so pathetic. My parents didn’t have jobs. That’s true. They had worked for the city for over twenty years before a round of budget cuts forced them into early retirement. But between their pensions and their savings, they were more than comfortable. I’d begged them to travel, to enjoy themselves. They refused. Instead, they lived modestly, saving every extra dollar to help us. To help our family. Ethan didn’t have a mother. So for years, my parents were the ones who watched our son, Leo. They were the ones who picked him up from school, who stayed with him when he was sick so we wouldn’t have to miss work. When Ethan wanted to start his own law firm, it was my parents who sold their large family home, downsized to a small condo, and gave him the money to make his dream a reality. He remembered none of it. And in his mind, my father’s life wasn’t even worth fifty thousand dollars. After twelve years of marriage, I saw it with perfect clarity for the first time. Ethan didn’t love me. Because when you love someone, you love the people who are a part of them. And when you resent someone… that resentment bleeds over, too. When I walked out of the bistro, Ethan’s sleek black BMW was still parked at the curb. A young woman in a bright red dress sat in the passenger seat, pouting playfully as he leaned over to carefully apply her lipstick. He finished, and she rewarded him with a laugh and a long, slow kiss. I stood there, watching them through the windshield. As Ethan pulled back, he saw me. The smile vanished from his face, but there was no guilt in his eyes. Only cold annoyance. The girl’s curious gaze followed his, landing on me. Ethan immediately started the engine and peeled away from the curb. It had rained that morning, and a dirty puddle had collected by the steps. The tires hit it at speed, sending a wave of greasy brown water splashing all over my legs and shoes. I walked home in a daze. When I opened the door, my son, Leo, ran toward me, his arms outstretched for a hug. He stopped short. “Mommy, what happened? Did you fall down?” A fist squeezed my heart. I knelt and pulled his small, warm body into my arms, burying my face in his hair. My mom heard his question and hurried out from the living room. She came back from the bathroom a moment later with a damp washcloth. “Weren’t you having lunch with Ethan? How did you get so filthy?” My throat was thick with unshed tears, but I forced a smile for her. “I just tripped on the way home. It’s nothing.” After I’d cleaned myself up, she pulled me aside, her voice low. “So, about your father… what is Ethan planning to do?” Remembering Ethan’s parting words, the answer felt like swallowing glass. “He… he said we should take it to court.” “Good,” my mother said, nodding firmly. “That’s the right thing to do. Your father deserves justice.” She reached into her pocket and pressed a check into my hand. “This is some money your dad and I have saved up. This process will be expensive. Take it. If you need more, you tell us.” “Mom, I…” “I’m heading home now,” she said, cutting me off gently. “Your father’s waiting for me to make him dinner.” She patted my hand and walked out the door, the soft click of the lock echoing in the sudden silence. The check in my hand felt like a burning coal, searing every nerve. I wanted a divorce. But I couldn’t tell her that. I couldn’t tell my parents that all their years of love and sacrifice meant absolutely nothing to the man they had treated like a son. And that the person he considered worthless… included me. That night, Ethan didn’t come home. I didn’t sleep in our bed. I curled up next to my son in his small twin bed, holding him tight, and stared into the darkness until dawn. The sky was just beginning to lighten when I got up to make breakfast. Just as I was putting out the plates, the front door opened. It was Ethan. He scanned the apartment, and seeing that Leo wasn’t around, he sat down at the kitchen table. He tapped his fingers on the wood. “We need to talk.” My gaze caught on a smudge of bright red lipstick just inside his collar. I sat down opposite him without a word. He cleared his throat, a faint flush on his cheeks, and pulled two folders from his briefcase, pushing them toward me. One was a divorce agreement. The other was yesterday’s settlement. “You saw us yesterday, so there’s no point in hiding it anymore,” he began, all business. “Her name is Nikki. We’ve been seeing each other for a while.” He took a breath. “I wasn’t planning on a divorce, Ava. But she’s pregnant. And the doctor said… with her condition… she can’t terminate the pregnancy.” Nikki? Nicole Sanders? My hand, reaching for the divorce papers, froze. I stared at him. I had just heard that name at the police station two days ago. The lipstick. The red dress. The fifty thousand dollars. The lies about the accident. It all crashed together in my mind with a sickening, surreal force. Was it possible? Had Ethan gotten his father’s killer pregnant? Seeing my silence, Ethan’s tone softened, becoming almost pleading. “Ava, she’s just twenty-two. For the sake of the sixteen years we had together, please, can you just let this go? Let her go?” “If you sign the settlement, I’ll give you the house, the cars, everything. I’ll add another fifty thousand to the compensation. One hundred thousand. Please.” It was almost funny. In sixteen years together, it was the first time he had ever spoken to me with such humility. And he was doing it for the woman who killed his own father. I picked up the divorce papers and flipped through them to the last page. I held out my hand. A wave of relief washed over his face. He thought I’d agreed. He scrambled in his briefcase for a pen and placed it in my palm. I signed my name, then pushed both folders back to him. “The divorce, I agree to. As for the settlement… I don’t have the right to sign that.” I was speaking the simple truth. But to Ethan, it sounded like a deliberate provocation. His face darkened. He slumped back in his chair, his chest heaving. He couldn’t hold it in. He grabbed the pen and threw it at me. “Ava, I was trying to be nice about this because of our history, but don’t think for a second that I’m begging you,” he snarled. “He was your father. If you don’t have the right, who does?” “When it comes down to it, you just won’t let Nikki go. You’re vicious. Your whole family is vicious.” “What did you say?” I clenched my fists, a hot rage finally boiling over. He could say whatever he wanted about me, but how dare he insult my family, again and again? He slammed his hands on the table and stood up, leaning over me. “I said your whole family is vicious, and your father deserved to get hit by a car!” Crack. The sound of my hand hitting his face echoed in the kitchen. I had used every ounce of my strength. His head snapped to the side. He was stunned for a second, then his eyes narrowed with fury. He lunged forward and grabbed a fistful of my hair. “You bitch. I gave you a chance.” He raised his other hand to strike me. “Daddy, don’t hit Mommy!” Leo stood in the doorway of his room, his little feet bare on the cold floor, his eyes wide with fear. Ethan’s hand froze in mid-air. He looked at our son, then back at me, his jaw tight. With a final, guttural curse, he shoved me away. I stumbled backward and fell to the floor. “You’re going to regret this, Ava.” The front door slammed shut, shaking the walls. I pulled Leo into my arms, holding him tight, my body trembling. I bit down on my lip to stop its quivering and whispered to the empty room. No, Ethan. You’re the one who’s going to regret this. The video of Ethan’s father’s accident went viral. His aunt Carol showed up at my door, her phone in her hand, her body shaking with rage. “Those monsters! My brother died in such a horrible way, and they’re smearing his name like this? Are they even human?” I poured her a glass of water and took the phone. The video trending online was heavily edited. It wasn’t the clear, raw footage I’d seen at the station. This version was grainy, the angle cleverly manipulated to hide the fact that he was tying his shoe. They had slowed down the footage, adding captions that framed his movements as the “preparations of a seasoned insurance scammer.” If I hadn’t seen the real video, I might have believed it myself. No wonder the comment section was a cesspool of vitriol. It’s not that old people turn bad; it’s that bad people grow old. You can tell he’s a pro. Look at that technique. Trying to score one last payday for his kids before he kicks the bucket. What a great dad. He got what he deserved. I should have been heartbroken. But knowing that Ethan was likely behind all of this, all because he thought the dead man was my father, I felt a strange, cold detachment. Aunt Carol slapped her thigh, her voice rising. “Ava, call Ethan right now! Tell him to send a cease and desist, to sue these soulless pigs!” I didn’t tell her that the soulless pig she was referring to was very likely her own beloved nephew. Before I could put my phone down, it rang. It was the police department. “Mrs. Miller? I’m calling to follow up. Have you and your husband decided whether to press charges in your father-in-law’s case? You mentioned you needed to discuss it with him.” I was about to tell the officer to contact Ethan directly when his aunt snatched the phone. “Charges? Of course we’re pressing charges! You go arrest her right now!” she yelled into the receiver. “What is this world coming to? She kills a man and then gets to slander him online? Unbelievable!” “Ma’am, may I ask who is speaking?” the officer asked, taken aback. “I’m the victim’s sister! His flesh and blood! And what I say goes for my nephew, too!” After she hung up, Carol grabbed my arm and dragged me toward the door. “Come on. We’re going to Ethan’s office.” When we arrived at the firm, Ethan’s assistant saw me and rushed forward, her expression panicked. “Mrs. Miller, he’s in a meeting…” Carol shoved her aside without breaking stride. “Get out of the way. Do you have any idea who I am? I’m his aunt, and this is his wife. Are you trying to get fired?” Before the poor woman could respond, Carol threw open the door to Ethan’s office. Ethan was in his large leather executive chair. And perched on his lap, straddling him, was the girl, Nikki, feeding him a cookie from her mouth to his. Carol froze for a single second, then a warrior’s cry escaped her lips. She lunged, grabbing Nikki by the arm and yanking her off Ethan’s lap. “You shameless homewrecker! Seducing a married man!” “Ah! Ethan! Ethan, help me!” the girl shrieked, scrambling away as Carol raised her hand to slap her. Before the blow could land, Ethan caught his aunt’s wrist. “You dare stop me?” Carol sputtered, incredulous. “Do you have any idea what’s going on right now? At a time like this, you’re in here messing around with this… this trash?” Ethan shot a venomous glare in my direction, clearly believing I had orchestrated this entire scene. “Carol, this is my personal life,” he said, his voice dangerously low. “Don’t you think you’re overstepping?” “What did you say?” His aunt stood frozen, unable to believe the words coming from the nephew she had always adored. “Fine. Fine! My mistake. I shouldn’t have bothered to care.” She turned on her heel and stormed out. I started to follow her, but Ethan’s voice stopped me. “Ava. If it weren’t a conflict of interest for me to represent you in court, I would personally take Nikki’s case and I would destroy you.” I paused, a cold curiosity taking hold. “I have to ask, Ethan. Why are you treating me like the enemy in all this?” He tilted his head, leaning forward so I could see the faint red mark still on his cheek from my slap. “This? I will never forget this.” I nodded slowly. There was nothing left to say. With the intense media scrutiny, the case was fast-tracked. Less than two weeks later, we were in court. I didn’t hire a lawyer. I sat alone at the plaintiff’s table. Ethan sat in the gallery, catching my eye and giving me a smug, triumphant smirk. As friends and relatives filed in, one of them asked him, “Ethan, why is your wife up there? Shouldn’t that be you?” He waved it off with the air of someone explaining a complex matter to a simpleton. “One of my firm’s lawyers is representing the defendant. You can’t have two lawyers from the same firm on opposite sides of a case. It’s a conflict of interest.” The relative stared at him, confused. “You… you had one of your own employees defend the person who killed your dad? Are you insane?” Ethan didn’t even bother to look at him. “So what? As lawyers, our duty is to justice. Even if it’s family, if they’ve done something wrong, they have to face the consequences.” Such noble words. I allowed myself a small, cold smile from across the courtroom. I wondered if he would still feel that way in about five minutes. The judge’s gavel struck the bench, the sound echoing through the silent room. The clerk began to read the case details aloud. “The court is now in session for the case regarding the vehicular incident on August 29th on Sunnyside Avenue. The deceased, Robert Miller…”

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