Category: English

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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This year marked my fifth anniversary with Poppy. One evening, while using her laptop in the study, I stumbled upon a document titled “Proposal_Plan.docx.” I opened it. The title inside read in bold letters: “May 20th Proposal Plan.” I froze for a second. Poppy had always turned down my own proposals. Was it because she wanted to be the one to ask? In that instant, a wave of sweetness and anticipation washed over me. On May 20th, I kept checking my phone, my heart pounding with excitement for Poppy’s message. But it was a colleague’s shriek that shattered my fantasy. “Poppy is proposing in the garden! The company garden!” I didn’t wait to hear more. I just ran. When I finally reached the garden, breathless and dizzy, the scene before me stopped my heart. Poppy was on one knee, holding a ring, looking up with adoration at another man. My fists clenched at my sides, but I didn’t rush forward. I didn’t demand an explanation. After a moment of deafening silence, I slowly pulled out my phone, my fingers trembling as I sent a text to my father. “Dad, about that marriage arrangement you mentioned… I’m in.” 1 My father called the second he got my message. He let out a long sigh, then chuckled. “Finally! I’ve been trying to talk you into this for ages, son. I was starting to lose hope.” His voice was warm with relief. “You’re my only son, Bob. Of course, I want you to marry a woman from a family of equal standing. I don’t care who you date, but marriage… marriage is a serious matter. It’s a family decision.” “I know, Dad,” I managed to say. My gaze drifted back to the couple in the garden, now locked in a kiss. A single, hot tear traced a path down my cheek. The people around them were cheering, the air thick with joy and celebration. It felt like I was standing under my own private storm cloud. “What’s all that noise?” my father asked. “When are you free? We need to arrange a dinner with the Sterling family.” “This Saturday,” I said, my voice flat. I ended the call and shoved the phone into my pocket. Perhaps the intensity of my stare finally broke through her bliss, because Poppy turned her head and her eyes met mine. Shock flickered across her face. She hadn’t expected to see me here, to see me witness this. She quickly looked away, leading the man back to a seat at a decorated table. The garden, the enormous cake, the champagne, the crowd of friends… Five years. We had been together for five years, and she had never once formally introduced me to her friends. Yet here they all were, every single one of the close girlfriends from her graduation photo, witnessing her happiness. One of them stood, raising a glass. “I knew it! I always said you two were meant for each other. I’ve been waiting years to toast at your wedding!” Poppy had kept our relationship a secret. Even her best friends didn’t know I existed. But this man… they all knew him. The sun was shining, but a bitter chill seeped into my bones. Wiping my tears, I turned and walked away from the garden, away from the place that had just broken my heart. I thought I was the star of her proposal plan. Turns out I was just an audience member. No, not even that. I returned to our apartment, feeling hollowed out. A courier was standing by the door, waiting. He saw me and walked over. “Mr. Vance?” I nodded. He handed me a bouquet of flowers. “Man, your girlfriend is really something,” he said with a grin. “First time I’ve ever had an order for a woman sending flowers to her guy on a special day.” I forced a weak smile, took the flowers, and unlocked the door. Tucked into the bouquet was a small card. It read: Happy Anniversary, my love. With a sneer, I ripped the card to shreds and threw it in the trash. So, she remembered I was her boyfriend. Then why in the hell did she propose to someone else today? I collapsed onto the sofa, burying my face in the six-foot-long teddy bear she had given me for my birthday. The scented candle on the coffee table was her favorite. This apartment, which we had designed and decorated together, was filled with three years of our shared memories. And just now, I had watched her betray every single one of them. I lay there for a long time, drifting on the edge of sleep, until the sound of a key turning in the lock jolted me awake. 2 Poppy walked in, looking tired. She was holding a collectible figurine. After slipping on her slippers, she came straight to me. She held out the box. “Bob, look. I got you that limited edition figure you wanted.” I took it from her. She seemed to think this was enough, that I had already forgiven her, and sat down beside me. “What were you doing at the garden today?” she asked. I didn’t answer, just turned the box over in my hands. She took my left hand and placed it on her thigh. “His name is Brian. He was my neighbor growing up. We were childhood friends.” “A few days ago, he was diagnosed with leukemia. He doesn’t have much time left. His one last wish… was to marry me.” “I wanted to make that wish come true for him. That’s why I proposed, with our friends there to see it. Can’t you understand how difficult this is for me?” I just stared at her, saying nothing. She squeezed my hand. “I’ve already set a date. The engagement party is on the fifteenth of next month.” Her tone was firm, leaving no room for argument. What a coincidence. That was the same day I was getting engaged. I pulled my hand back and gave a quiet, “Mm.” Poppy used to say I had a possessive streak, that I’d get angry if she ignored me. I’d worked hard to change, to control my emotions. She seemed stunned that I wasn’t screaming, wasn’t throwing things. “I’m just here to pack a few things. I’ll be moving in with Brian tomorrow morning,” she continued. “You’ll be here by yourself for a while. He needs me to take care of him. I’m sorry you have to be the one to make the sacrifice.” I kept my expression neutral, my eyes fixed on the figurine in my lap. Seeing my silence, Poppy seemed to take it as acceptance. She leaned in, her lips aiming for mine. I stood up abruptly, a smooth, deliberate motion that made her kiss hit empty air. I noticed then that her lips were slightly swollen, and there were faint hickeys on her neck. A scent clung to her, the smell of another man’s intimacy. It made my stomach turn. My coldness finally seemed to register. A flash of anger crossed her face. Forgetting all about packing, she spun around, changed her shoes, and stormed out of the apartment. I tossed the figurine aside, walked into the bedroom, and pulled out a suitcase. Anything Poppy had ever given me, I left behind. This home, built with my heart, I was leaving it all behind. The next morning, the first thing I did at the office was print out my resignation letter. Poppy and I had gone to the same university. After graduation, she’d started here. I’d turned down my father’s offer to join the family business just so I could be with her, starting from the bottom together. As our friends started getting married and having kids, I’d hinted to Poppy that I wanted the same. But she always said it was too soon, that she needed to establish her career first. I didn’t want to pressure her, so I told my parents to give us more time. Now, she was a general manager. Her career was stable. When I found that proposal plan on her computer, I thought we were finally going to be a real family. It was all just a delusion. 3 My colleague Ben, in the next cubicle, leaned over the partition. “Bob, what are you doing? The director is promoting you to project manager next month. Why would you quit now?” “I’m getting engaged soon,” I said with a smile. “Might be moving to a new city.” Another colleague passing by overheard and stopped. “Wow, congrats, man! That’s great news!” He paused. “Speaking of which, I heard from the director’s assistant that Poppy is getting engaged too!” He pulled out his phone and opened up his social media feed. “Look, man. She and her fiancé make a perfect couple. I heard they grew up together. He was her first love.” My smile froze. The post was from last night. I’d checked my feed; there was nothing new from her. She’d hidden the post from me. I opened our chat history. I hadn’t noticed when it happened, but most of our recent conversations had been about work. Suddenly, Ben flinched and ducked back into his cubicle. I looked up. Poppy was walking into the office, with Brian trailing right behind her. He looked perfectly healthy, moving with a light step that didn’t suggest a man with only months to live. Poppy clapped her hands for attention. “Everyone, can I have a moment? This is Brian, our new project manager. Please make him feel welcome. I expect you all to cooperate with him moving forward.” Ben’s face went pale, his eyes darting between me and Brian. One by one, my colleagues went up to shake Brian’s hand and introduce themselves. I remained at my desk, the resignation letter still in my hand. Poppy’s gaze fell on me, her expression hardening. “Everyone has greeted the new manager. Why are you just standing there? Come and say hello.” Brian walked over with a smile, extending his hand. “Looking forward to working with you. Hope you’ll cut me some slack while I’m learning the ropes.” I put down my letter and reached out to shake his hand. But Poppy grabbed Brian’s arm, pulling him away. “You don’t need to waste your time on employees who don’t know their place. Let me give you a tour of the office.” My hand was left hanging in the air. Ben came over and gently pulled me back into my chair. “Bob,” he whispered, “that new manager… he’s Poppy’s fiancé. The diamond on his finger? I heard she bought it for him in Paris. Everyone in this office knows how capable you are. How could she just give your promotion to him?” I just shrugged with a hollow smile. It didn’t matter. I was already leaving. If anything, Brian’s appointment just made my decision to walk away from Poppy even easier. I took a deep breath, collected myself, and walked towards Poppy’s office with my resignation and a stack of project files. The door was ajar. I knocked lightly. “Come in,” she said, her voice cold, not even bothering to look up. I walked in and placed the files on her desk. 4 Poppy began flipping through the documents, her brow furrowed, her expression growing darker with every page. Finally, she looked up at me, a mocking sneer on her face. “And here I thought you’d finally learned to control that temper of yours. It didn’t even take a full day for the real you to come out.” “Are you trying to threaten me with your resignation?” she scoffed, then snatched the papers and hurled them at my face. I ducked, the pages fluttering to the floor around me. I knelt and began to pick them up. Leaning back in her chair, Poppy continued her tirade. “Brian has the same degree as I do. I believe he is more than qualified to be project manager. Are you throwing a tantrum because you think he stole your promotion?” I calmly stacked the papers and placed them neatly back on her desk. My face was a mask of indifference. “You’re right,” I said, my voice even. “Brian studied the same thing as you. You know his capabilities. But what about me? What were all the years I spent working beside you?” She gave me a contemptuous glance. “Do you really need me to tell you what your capabilities are? From now on, you’ll be Brian’s assistant. You can learn a thing or two from him about how to do your job properly.” A bitter, weary laugh escaped my lips. “You really think the world revolves around you, don’t you? I’m not throwing a tantrum. I am quitting. And for the record, I think I’m more capable than he is. I don’t need to learn anything from him.” She slammed her hands on the desk and shot to her feet. “Fine! You’ve grown a backbone, have you? We’ll see where you end up after you walk out that door.” The look in her eyes was that of a stranger. I had never seen this side of her. My hands clenched into fists. I turned and walked out of her office. For five years, my entire world had revolved around Poppy. And now, she had not only pushed me away, but she also wanted me to play second fiddle to her new fiancé. Now that I saw her for who she truly was, I wasn’t stupid enough to waste another second of my life on her. Back at my desk, I began packing my personal belongings. My eyes fell on a glass jar filled with paper stars that Poppy had folded for me. With a heavy sigh, I placed it in the box with everything else. Box in hand, I was about to leave for good when Brian rushed into the office, his face a mask of panic. “Excuse me, everyone, could you please stop what you’re doing?” he announced. “My Rolex is missing. I’m going to need everyone to cooperate with a search.” A murmur went through the office. “I saw his watch this morning. I looked it up online—it’s worth a fortune.” “How does something just disappear off your wrist?” “Someone must have taken it when he wasn’t looking.” Poppy stood by Brian’s side as she called security. They started searching everyone, one by one. When they got to me, I put my box down to let them look. Poppy’s eyes locked on the jar of stars. She hesitated for a moment, then tipped the entire box over, sending its contents crashing onto the floor. The jar shattered. The colorful stars scattered across the tiles around my desk. With the sound of shattering glass, something between us broke for good. A security guard knelt, sifting through my things. Poppy nudged my belongings around with the toe of her shoe. Suddenly, Brian grabbed her arm and pointed at the floor. “Poppy, look! Isn’t that my watch?”

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I am the top engineer at the National Oceanic Institute. The only person on Earth with a successful deep-sea rescue at ten thousand meters to my name. So when my brother’s submarine went down, trapping him at the bottom of the ocean, I hung up his distress call. Then I calmly walked into a police station and confessed to leaking state secrets. Minutes later, my father’s furious call came through. “Your brother’s life is on the line, and you’ve vanished! Where the hell are you?” “I’m ordering you to the incident site to lead the rescue, now! If you don’t, you won’t see a single cent of the Grant family fortune!” I pulled a coarse blanket over myself and spoke into the phone. “I’m busy. Don’t interrupt my nap.” 1 I was sound asleep when Captain Miller of the Rescue Center shook me awake. “Dr. Grant! We have an emergency!” “It’s your brother, Ethan. His submersible, the Challenger, has gone dark at 10,900 meters in the Mariana Trench!” “An unidentified underwater tremor… all communications are down. The chances of survival are… slim.” I blinked my eyes open, my gaze settling on him. “So?” I asked, my voice flat. Miller stared, clearly thrown by my lack of reaction. “We need you!” he pressed. “You’re the only person in the world with a successful rescue at this depth. You’re their only hope!” I simply lay back down, turned over, and prepared to go back to sleep. “Sorry. I’m afraid I can’t help.” “What?” “I said, I can’t help,” I repeated, my tone as calm as if the men trapped at the bottom of the sea were my mortal enemies. “Adrian, are you insane? Your brother is down there! Along with twenty researchers! Their oxygen will last seventy-two hours, max!” “My wife, Dr. Evelyn Reed,” I interrupted him, “was the Mission Commander on my last rescue. In terms of experience, she’s more qualified than I am. You should be talking to her.” Miller grabbed my shoulders and hauled me upright, his voice a furious roar. “What the hell are you talking about? Of course we tried to contact Commander Reed! She’s not even in the country!” A small, cold smile touched my lips. “I know.” With that, I pulled the blanket over my head, shutting him out. He stomped his foot in frustration and stormed out of the detention cell, muttering curses under his breath. Finally, silence. A few minutes later, a specific ringtone cut through the quiet. It was my father, Robert Grant. I answered. “Adrian! Why are you refusing the rescue? Your brother is down there!” His voice was a barrage of accusations, thick with suppressed rage. “Dad, I already told them. Get Evelyn. She’s the expert.” “I can’t reach her! Her satellite phone is off!” Robert’s voice was frayed with desperation. I chuckled softly. “Oh, that’s to be expected.” “Because right now,” I said, my voice light, “she’s on board the Challenger.” On the other end of the line, Robert’s breathing hitched. It was followed by a thunderous explosion of fury. “What damn nonsense are you spouting? I personally arranged for Evelyn to join Project Borealis at the North Pole! She’s not due back for another month! How could she possibly be on the Challenger?” “Is that so?” I feigned surprise. “Then I must have misremembered.” “You—” I hung up before he could finish. The phone immediately rang again. This time, it was my stepmother, Linda Quinn. Her voice was a fragile, broken thing, choked with sobs. “Adrian… I’m begging you… please, save your brother…” I leaned back in my chair and closed my eyes, listening to her performance. “Besides,” she continued, her voice gaining a sharp, manipulative edge, “more than half of the twenty researchers on that sub are your own students! Are you just going to sit back and watch them die at the bottom of the ocean?” “Can you live with that?” 2 I smiled. Of course I could. An hour later, my father and stepmother arrived at the detention center. I watched them through the cold iron bars, my gaze fixed on the television mounted on the wall, which was broadcasting live coverage of the Challenger emergency rescue mission. The news anchor was somberly reading the names of the missing crew, painting them as national heroes making the ultimate sacrifice. The atmosphere was perfectly crafted. I raised my cuffed hands and gave them a helpless shrug. “As you can see, I’m in a bit of a jam myself.” “I’ve been detained on suspicion of leaking the Challenger’s core technical secrets.” In the span of a few seconds, Linda’s expression shifted from shock to disbelief, and then to pure, venomous hatred. Her perfectly maintained face twisted in fury. “It was you!” she shrieked. “Adrian! You did this on purpose!” “You’re jealous of your brother! Jealous that he was named the chief designer of the Challenger at such a young age!” “If you can’t have it, you destroy it! You have a black, evil heart!” Every accusation she hurled was a perfect echo of the press releases from my past life. It seemed they had this script prepared long ago. My father, Robert, was far more composed. He was frantic, but he still wore the mask of the dignified Director. He stared at me, his eyes burning. “What is going on?” “Not sure,” I said, leaning lazily against the wall. “The disciplinary committee burst into my workshop late last night. Said they had an anonymous tip that I sold the Challenger’s structural blueprints and sonar codes to a foreign agency.” Robert’s face turned a sickly shade of gray. He knew it was a frame-up. Half of the submersible’s core technology came from my own research. I would never betray my life’s work. “Damn it!” he growled, pulling out his phone. “I’ll make some calls. I’ll pull every string I have. I’ll have you bailed out before the end of the day!” “Don’t waste your breath,” I said flatly. “What do you mean?” “Until the official investigation is concluded, leaving this cell would be an admission of guilt.” I looked at him, my gaze calm and sharp. “Dad, you and I both know that if this charge sticks, my life is over.” Robert froze. He understood perfectly. I asked him a simple question. “Dad, if today, only one of us—Ethan or me—could live…” “Who would you choose?” His mouth opened, but no sound came out. Just then, his phone rang. He snatched it up like a lifeline. It was the Arctic Research Center. “Director Grant, we’ve just made contact with Commander Evelyn Reed!” Robert’s eyes lit up. “Thank God! What did she say? Does she have a plan?” “Commander Reed has suspended her mission at the North Pole. She’s using a backup channel to attempt a remote connection with the Challenger’s operating system! But…” “But what?” “But the sub’s physical port is locked down. The remote signal can’t get full access! Someone has to pilot a rescue craft to the site and perform a physical interface to reboot the system!” “And the only person who can perform that interface is Dr. Adrian Grant!” 3 The call was on speakerphone. Every word echoed clearly in the small room. Robert hung up, his eyes red-rimmed as he stared at me. “Adrian, did you hear that?” he said, his voice raw. “This isn’t just about saving your brother anymore. It’s about executing Evelyn’s rescue plan! This is an order!” I let out a lazy yawn and ignored him completely. Just then, a commotion erupted outside the detention center. The parents of the missing students, having somehow gotten wind of my location, had arrived. The moment they saw me, they fell to their knees in unison. “Dr. Grant! We’re begging you! Please, save our children!” “Please, Dr. Grant, he’s our only son! He can’t die!” A chorus of sobs and pleas filled the air. I looked down at them, my expression as cold and hard as ice. “What do their lives have to do with me?” My words sliced through the crying, silencing it instantly. They stared at me in disbelief, as if I were a monster. One of the fathers scrambled to his feet, fumbling for his phone. He pulled up a screenshot of a bank transfer and held it up to the bars. “What do you mean, it has nothing to do with you? This is the record of the ‘research fund’ my son paid you!” “He said you required every student to deposit fifty thousand dollars into this account every month, or you wouldn’t let them work on your project, wouldn’t let them graduate!” “Our children’s futures are in your hands! How can you just let them die?” Others followed suit, holding up their phones. The screen after screen of transfer records were like hammers, pounding away at my name. “Yes! We paid too!” “We all paid! For two whole years!” Robert saw the records and began to tremble with rage. He pointed a shaking finger at me. “You… you disgraceful son!” “Not only are you heartless, but you’re also a common criminal, extorting your own students! You have shamed the Grant family name!” He roared with righteous fury, as if he truly believed I had committed these sins. But we both knew the truth. The owner of that bank account wasn’t me. It was his precious, favored son, Ethan. No matter how much they begged, cursed, or even threatened to harm themselves, I remained unmoved, a silent spectator to the unfolding farce. Time was running out. The golden window for the Challenger rescue was closing fast. Online, the public opinion had turned into a firestorm. #LeadEngineerAdrianGrantRefusesRescue #AdrianGrantDetainedForLeakingSecrets #AdrianGrantExtortsStudents The hashtags trended, searing and ugly. In a matter of hours, my name became synonymous with greed, cruelty, and corruption. Then, a faint, static-laced voice crackled through the live rescue broadcast. It was Ethan. “Adrian… brother… can you hear me…” His voice was weak, filled with a primal fear of death and a desperate will to live. “Brother… I believe in you… I know you can save me…” “You’ve always been the brother I looked up to… you wouldn’t abandon me… would you?” 4 His heartfelt, brotherly last words, broadcast live to the world, were a masterstroke. Millions of viewers were instantly moved to tears. 【My God! What a tragedy! His brother is waiting for him, and he’s just sitting in a cell!】 【Adrian Grant isn’t human! He’s an animal! That’s your brother!】 【I’m sick. How did someone like him become a lead engineer? This needs a full investigation!】 【Go save them! There’s no time left!】 The tsunami of outrage and condemnation washed over me. My stepmother, Linda, seized the moment perfectly. She dropped to her knees again, not before me this time, but before the cameras of the news crews that had gathered outside. Her sobs were gut-wrenching. “I’m begging you… Adrian… if you just go and save Ethan…” “I… I’ll have him sign over all his inheritance rights to you! We won’t take a thing!” As she spoke, she actually pulled a pre-prepared “Renunciation of Inheritance” document from her purse. Ethan’s signature was already on it. All she needed was my consent. It was a brilliant performance. She was the great, self-sacrificing mother, willing to give up everything for her son. I looked at her and smiled. As everyone stared in stunned silence, I spoke two simple words. “Alright.”

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I was born with a wicked heart. As the true heiress to the Brandon fortune, I was brought back to the family estate at fourteen. And while I was busy plotting 108 different ways to ruin Celine Croft, the girl who had taken my place, she became the only person in that cold, cavernous house who genuinely protected me. She called herself my knight and I her beautiful princess. A knight’s sole duty, she would say, was to guard her princess. I scoffed at her naive sentimentality, told her it was useless in a world like ours. Yet, she was the one who helped me seize control of the Brandon Corporation, who guided my hand as I became the head of the country’s largest conglomerate. She even helped me find true love and was there to witness my happiness. Once her “mission” was complete, Celine didn’t return to her old life. Instead, she married a man who promised to love her for a lifetime. But the next time I returned from a business trip abroad, I was met with the news of her death. One body, two lives lost. I rushed back, only to be confronted with her shattered, unrecognizable remains. My sister was dead. And I was finally, gloriously, mad. The darkness I’d kept locked away for so long was finally free. Everyone who had ever hurt her would pay. Chapter 1 “Sera, I’m so sorry. I can’t protect you anymore.” In the hospital security footage my assistant sent me, Celine, her hair matted and her face hollow, whispered those words to the empty air before turning and leaping from the 18th-floor window of her hospital room. No hesitation. Only pure, bottomless despair. My entire body trembled with a rage so profound it felt like an earthquake in my soul. My Celine was obsessed with beauty, always dressed to perfection. She’d pout for half a day if I so much as messed up her hair. There was no way she would have chosen to die like this, to end her life in such a brutal, mangled mess. I stormed out of the car and sprinted toward the surgical wing. The darkness I had buried so deep within me clawed its way to the surface, growing wild and untamed. The operation was over. Inside the cold, sterile room, a white sheet covered the broken, blood-soaked thing that was once my sister. “Ethan, my love, don’t be so sad. Celine loved you so much. She wouldn’t be able to rest in peace if she saw you like this.” My steps faltered. Standing next to my grieving brother-in-law was a woman in a pristine white dress, her face pretty and demure. Her hand was holding that of my six-year-old nephew. Little Hugo’s face showed no trace of sadness. Instead, he looked at the sheet-covered form with disgust. “That nasty woman is so annoying. Why’d she have to die today, when Dad and Hayley-mommy were taking me to the toy store? Now I didn’t even get my new car.” The woman, Hayley, wrapped her arms around the boy, her smile impossibly gentle. “It’s okay, sweetie. Daddy and I will take you to get the best toy car in a few days, alright?” “Okay! I love you most, Hayley-mommy!” Hugo’s face brightened, and he threw his arms around her neck, planting a kiss on her cheek. In that instant, I understood everything. I knew why my Celine had leaped to her death without a second thought. I stepped into the room. “The body isn’t even cold, and the mistress is already trying to take her place?” The woman’s face stiffened for a moment before she squeezed out a practiced, pleasant smile and walked toward me. “You must be Seraphina. Ethan has told me so much about you.” She stood before me, a victor striking a pose, her eyes screaming a silent taunt: So what if your sister was the high-and-mighty Brandon heiress? In the end, she still lost to me. I let out a cold laugh. My hand flew, the crack of my palm against her cheek echoing in the sterile room. “I, Seraphina Brandon, have only one sister, and her name is Celine. What the hell are you?” The woman shrieked and crumpled to the floor. Little Hugo balled his fists and charged at me. “You bullied my Hayley-mommy! You’re a nasty woman too! I’m gonna kill you!” My gaze, cold as the grave, fell upon him. He flinched, shrinking back to hide behind his father, Ethan. And Ethan… he just stood there, his face a dead, empty mask, his eyes fixed on the body on the bed. As if he couldn’t see or hear a thing. Hayley bit her lip, but her smile quickly returned. Her act was flawless. “I’m so sorry, Ms. Brandon. Ethan and I grew up together, we’re like family. I just assumed…” She bowed her head. “I’m so sorry. I was out of line. It won’t happen again.” She looked so wronged, so innocent in her apology, making me out to be the cruel, domineering bully. No wonder my sister met such a tragic end. Her kind, sincere heart was no match for a two-faced bitch like this. I’d heard whispers that Ethan had a childhood sweetheart who had gone to study abroad. Now, here she was, the woman who had driven my sister to her death, daring to stand before me. 2 “Hayley, what happened to your face?” A familiar voice came from behind me. It was my husband, Sebastian. But he walked right past me as if I were invisible, rushing to Hayley’s side. He gently cupped her cheek, his face a mask of concern. “Who did this? Hayley, you tell me who dared to touch you, and I swear I’ll make them regret it.” My eyes grew colder still. I’d almost forgotten. He and Ethan had grown up together. Which meant he and Hayley were also childhood friends. Hayley’s triumphant smirk deepened as she shot a provocative glance in my direction. “Sebastian, please, don’t blame Sera. Her sister just died. It’s understandable that she’s upset.” Sebastian finally turned and saw me. His eyes widened in panic, and he quickly snatched his hand back. “Honey, you’re back! Why didn’t you call? I would have picked you up.” I sneered. Right in front of him, I swung my hand again, striking the other side of Hayley’s face. She stumbled, falling dramatically into Sebastian’s arms, revealing the fresh, red imprint of my hand. Sebastian stared at me, shocked. He instinctively tightened his hold on Hayley and roared at me, “Seraphina, what is wrong with you? Your sister killed herself! Why are you taking it out on Hayley?” Hayley clutched her face, tears welling in her eyes. “It’s okay, Sebastian, really. If it makes her feel better, she can hit me a few more times. I can take it.” “Then I’ll be happy to oblige.” I lunged forward, grabbing the collar of Hayley’s dress and yanking her toward me. Sebastian tried to intervene, but my bodyguards stepped in, blocking his path. I slapped Hayley so hard she fell to the ground, then I pinned her hand with my foot and wrapped my fingers around her throat. “If you can’t remember your place, allow me to remind you. The Brandon family has two daughters, and both of them have dignity. We don’t have room for a shameless homewrecker like you.” “You drove my sister to her death. None of you are getting away with this.” A vein throbbed in Sebastian’s forehead. “Seraphina! You’re the heiress of the Brandon family! How can you say something so venomous?” I turned my head, my voice dripping with disdain. “What, does it hurt your little heart? Are you in love with her too?” Sebastian’s face went pale. He quickly held up three fingers. “I swear, honey. I only love you.” I turned my gaze back to Hayley. As I did, my eyes caught a glint of something from inside her collar. I reached down and pulled it out. It was a necklace. A Twin Stars necklace. It was the one I had personally designed, commissioned from a world-renowned master jeweler, and given to Celine for her birthday. And now, it was around Hayley’s neck. A white-hot fury erupted inside me. I ripped the necklace from her throat. My nails raked across her skin, drawing blood. I looked down at her, the urge to kill consuming me. “Her things… you’re not worthy to even touch them.” Hayley screamed, clutching her bleeding neck, her tears flowing like a river. It was a pathetic, heart-wrenching sight. I’m sure even my sister, had she seen it, would have felt a pang of pity. After all, Celine always cried whenever she remembered the days I was locked in that pigsty. But her kindness… her beautiful kindness had been trampled into the mud by these people. Seeing Hayley’s state, little Hugo rushed out from behind Ethan, throwing his arms around her, his eyes red. “Hayley-mommy, does it hurt?” Hayley shook her head. “It’s okay, sweetie. As long as it makes your auntie feel a little better, it doesn’t hurt.” Hugo glared at me, his eyes burning with a murderous hatred. “I don’t want that ugly woman as my mom, and this mean lady isn’t my auntie!” He pointed at the necklace in my hand. “I gave that necklace to Hayley-mommy! That other woman was lazy and ugly! She was only good enough to be our maid! She didn’t deserve to wear something so beautiful.” “Hayley-mommy is different. She’s young and pretty, and she deserves the best of everything.” What a touching scene of motherly love and filial piety. It made me want to vomit. Hugo actually lunged at me, trying to snatch the necklace from my hand. An icy chill washed over me. I kicked him away. He hit the floor and started wailing. The others stared, their faces pale, probably shocked that I would be so ruthless with Celine’s own son. But if it weren’t for Celine, I wouldn’t have given the entire Ethan family a second glance. “You little bastard. You’re not worthy of being my sister’s son.” “Say one more word, and I’ll end you right here, right now.” Hugo was so terrified he stopped crying, his eyes wide with fear as he watched me walk toward the cold, still body. I lifted the white sheet. I looked at the broken form on the bed, and a sob escaped my throat. “Celine. I’m here. I’m taking you home.” 3 Just like you once took me home. I was the Brandon family’s long-lost daughter. At seven, I was kidnapped by traffickers and sold to a remote, impoverished village. They kept me in a pen by the pigsty. The stench was unbearable. Filthy water seeped into my clothes. They didn’t feed me. To survive, I fought the pigs for their slop. When it was cold, my only option was to huddle amongst the pigs for warmth. I was no different from the livestock, just waiting to be old enough to be sold off. When I was fourteen, the traffickers took two hundred dollars from a sixty-year-old lech. I knew my life was over. I went with him, my only plan to wait for nightfall, find a butcher knife, and take everyone down with me. Just as the old man was dragging me away, Celine appeared. She was wearing a beautiful princess dress, a glittering tiara on her head, and she charged toward the pigsty. She shoved the old man aside and shielded me with her body. My own parents stood at a distance, holding their noses, their brows furrowed in disgust. They took another involuntary step back. The way they looked at me… it was the same way they looked at the pigs: filthy, but a necessary burden. I was taken back to the Brandon estate. My parents left immediately without a second glance. Only Celine stayed. She held me and cried for what felt like an eternity. “I’m so sorry. I should have found you sooner. You’ve suffered so much.” “You’re the heroine of this story, Sera. You’re meant to live a dazzling life.” “Don’t worry. From now on, I will protect you. I won’t let anyone hurt you ever again.” The image of my parents finding me by the pigsty, tears streaming down their faces, was plastered across the front page of every newspaper. They were lauded as the most loving parents in the country. But at school, I became a laughingstock. The photos of me, covered in filth, surrounded by flies and mosquitoes, were scattered all over campus. The images drove me into a frenzy. I lost control. I grabbed a chair and beat everyone until they were bloody. My parents were called to the principal’s office. Without a word of explanation, they slapped me twice. “Apologize.” I didn’t move. They were furious. “Seraphina,” my mother screamed, “I regret ever bringing you back! You should have died in that pigsty!” My father grabbed a vase from the desk and swung it. It was meant for my head, but it landed on Celine’s. She clutched her head and shouted, “Sera did nothing wrong! They should be the ones apologizing!” Somehow, she got her hands on the security footage from the classroom. It showed the group of them pushing me to the ground, forcing me to crawl and oink like a pig. They threw food on the floor and made me eat it. My mother remained unmoved. “Why don’t they bully anyone else? They only bully you. Is it because you’re not clean? Are you disrupting the other students?” My father just waved his hand dismissively. “It’s a trivial matter. Let’s just drop it.” But Celine fought for me. In the end, I got my apology. Later, I asked her why she was so good to me. She said a knight must protect her princess, and I was her princess. “Aren’t you afraid I’ll go crazy and kill you too?” “No!” She told me she wouldn’t let me ruin my life by killing a bunch of worthless animals. That’s when she told me her secret. She was a traveler, she said. She had read my story. She knew I was on a path to destroy everyone, including myself. “Aren’t you afraid I’ll kill you?” She hugged me tightly and shook her head. “No. I love you more than anyone, Sera.” Tears streamed down her face, her voice choked with emotion. “Sera, it’s not worth throwing your life away for a bunch of scum.” She told me my future was bright, brilliant. Whenever I faced difficulties or danger, she was always there. With her help, I reached the pinnacle of power. I even married Sebastian, a man who, I believed, had eyes and a heart only for me. She was supposed to leave after that, but she fell in love with Sebastian’s best friend, Ethan, and married into his family. I was happy because it meant she would stay. But I was also worried. I had heard the stories about Ethan and Hayley. Ethan swore to me, time and time again, that he would only ever love Celine. Seeing the joy on her face, I allowed myself to believe that we would both have our happy endings. But the joy she felt then was matched only by the despair she must have felt when she died. 4 “No one is taking Celine!” A desperate cry pulled me back to the present. Seeing the orderlies about to take the body, Ethan finally snapped out of his stupor. He wept, shoving past my bodyguards to cradle Celine’s body. “She’s my wife! I love her! What right do you have to take her from me?” The bodyguards hesitated. After all, Ethan was Sebastian’s best friend, and Sebastian was my husband. They were reluctant to use force. But I wasn’t. Besides Celine, I didn’t care about anything or anyone. I took the fountain pen from my bag, my eyes fixed on Ethan’s neck, and strode toward him. Just as I was about to plunge it into his throat, Hayley threw herself in front of him, taking the blow in her back. Blood spurted out, instantly staining her white dress crimson. Sebastian rushed over and shoved me, hard. “Seraphina, you’ve really lost your mind.” I stumbled backward, my head slamming against the wall. As the world spun, I saw Sebastian sweep Hayley up into his arms in a princess carry, rushing out of the room, frantically shouting for a doctor. When I woke up, I was in a hospital room, my bodyguards my only company. I walked to Hayley’s private VIP suite. “I’m so sorry, Hayley. Sera… she was locked in a pigsty as a child. Her emotions are… fragile. When she wakes up, I’ll have her apologize to you immediately.” I listened to the man who swore he loved me, my hands clenching into fists. “It’s my fault for worrying about you so much. It must have triggered her. I’m sorry.” As he spoke, Sebastian blew on a spoonful of porridge to cool it before feeding it to Hayley. “And you, Ethan,” Sebastian said, turning to his friend. “How could you not keep a better eye on Celine?” Ethan clutched Hayley’s hand, his head bowed. “Hayley’s always been delicate. I just locked Celine up for a few days so Hayley could get a blood transfusion. My son and I tried to reason with her. Who knew she’d kill herself over something so trivial?” “Trivial? Are you aware that a video of you and Hayley in a hotel room was sent to her phone?” Ethan looked up, shocked. “How? I was so careful.” A bitter smile twisted his lips. “Why was she so damn petty? I just made a mistake that every man makes. But she was the one I loved most.” “By the way, Sebastian, does Seraphina know about this?” “If she knew, do you think you’d be sitting here right now? I’ve already had someone destroy the video on Celine’s phone. Don’t worry.” “Sebastian, thank you.” “If it wasn’t for Hayley, I would never have helped you lie to Sera.” My nails dug into my palms. My stomach churned with a nausea so profound I thought I would be sick. Hayley started to sob softly. “I’m sorry, Sebastian. I’ve made things so difficult for you both.” “Silly girl, it’s not your fault.” “But… what if Sera is angry with you? Will the Brandon and Sterling families be alright?” Sebastian laughed. “Sera loves me. She can’t live without me. I can smooth things over with a few sweet words.” Tears fell from my eyes, but I was smiling. So, Sebastian knew everything. He was an accomplice to my sister’s murder. Good. Now, I had nothing left to hold me back. All of you… you’re all going to die.

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For six months, I was away on business. Six months, while my fiancé, Ethan, moved into our new home all by himself. He’d even send me a token $50 each month, a little joke he called “rent for my wifey.” It was all cute and games until his Instagram stories shifted from solo dinners to beautifully plated meals for two. A friend texted me, laughing, You better get back there before someone poaches him! I just laughed it off. But the comment stuck with me. So, I booked a flight, planning to surprise him for his birthday. But now, standing in front of our new apartment, the keypad code was stubbornly, repeatedly wrong. I was just about to call him when the door swung open. A young woman stood there, wearing an apron and holding a spatula. She frowned, looking me up and down, before a saccharine smile spread across her face. “Oh, honey, I think you have the wrong place. This is my home.” 1 I froze for a second, my apology automatic. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I must be on the wrong floor.” “No worries,” she chirped, her voice dripping with false sweetness. “Just be more careful next time, sweetie. You wouldn’t want to walk into the wrong home again.” She called me “sweetie” one more time before shutting the door in my face. I looked up. The plaque on the door clearly read 1015. This was it. The spacious downtown apartment Ethan and I had bought together. We hadn’t even had a housewarming party before my work trip pulled me away for half a year. But I was the one who oversaw the entire renovation. I’d been here countless times. I knew I wasn’t mistaken. I pulled out my phone and dialed Ethan, my voice sharp. “Ethan, did you change the code to the apartment? And why is there a woman living here?” His voice on the other end was choppy, full of static. Just then, the elevator dinged open, and there he was, juggling grocery bags. “Zoe, the signal’s terrible here. I’ll call you back later.” He hung up without a second thought, then looked up and saw me. Our eyes locked. “There you are, Ethan!” The door to our apartment opened again, and the young woman bounced out, her voice a playful whine. “You were taking forever! I heard the elevator and came right out to get the door. See how much I care about you?” I hadn’t eaten all day, rushing back here on an empty stomach. A bitter, acidic pain churned in my gut. “Ethan,” I said, my voice dripping with ice, “you had better have a very good explanation.” 2 “Oh my gosh, Zoe! I’m so sorry, I didn’t recognize you earlier!” The woman, whose name I would learn was Amber, clasped her hands together in a theatrical plea for forgiveness. Ethan dumped the groceries in the kitchen and cleared his throat, his expression a mask of awkwardness. “Zoe, I didn’t know you were coming back early, I forgot to tell you. This is Amber, she’s an intern at my company. You know how it is, the internship is six months, and they’re on a shoestring salary. She’s from out of town, no place to stay. After paying for a room, she’d have no money left for food. I found her crashing at her desk a few times. I’m her supervisor, I felt sorry for her, so I decided to rent the spare room to her temporarily.” Amber, who had started setting up a hot pot on the dining table, stuck her tongue out playfully. “It’s true! Ethan’s been a lifesaver. If it weren’t for him, I’d be sleeping on the street. Please don’t be mad at him, Zoe. Look, to repay his kindness, I was just about to celebrate his birthday for you! But I’m totally useless in the kitchen, and I couldn’t let the birthday boy cook for himself, so I figured a hot pot would be a nice treat. You’re back just in time! You can join us.” Amber couldn’t have been long out of college, radiating a bubbly, almost naive energy. But I heard the boast in her words loud and clear. She couldn’t cook, which meant Ethan had been cooking for her. She was celebrating Ethan’s birthday for me. Was she trying to audition for the role of my replacement? Ethan and I met in college. He pursued me for three years before I finally said yes. We’d done everything by the book: dating, the proposal, even setting the wedding date. Our parents had helped us buy this very apartment. And now, he was pulling this stunt? 3 “Oh, Zoe, we only have guest plates and chopsticks. You don’t mind, do you?” Amber arranged a set of matching, ‘his and hers’ bowls for herself and Ethan, then shot me a bright smile before waltzing into the kitchen to help him wash vegetables. Their laughter and playful banter drifted out, painting a perfect picture of a happy young couple. And there I was, a stranger in my own home, perched awkwardly at the edge of my own dining table. The sight of the bubbling pot made my stomach churn. I had no appetite. “Ethan, you said you’re renting to her,” I said, my voice cutting through the cozy kitchen scene. “Where’s the lease agreement?” Ethan’s brow furrowed in annoyance. “Zoe, it was just a formality to help her out. We didn’t need to sign a contract.” “Right,” I scoffed. “And the rent?” “Amber transferred it to me. I can send it to you if you want. But honestly, she’s been looking after the place while you were gone. If anything, we should be paying her a maintenance fee.” I almost laughed out loud at his audacity. Amber chimed in, twisting a strand of her hair. “So, should I start sending the rent to you now, Zoe? Ethan was so considerate, he knew I was broke, so he only charged me $50 a month. I haven’t even paid this month’s yet. Here, you can add me on Venmo, I’ll send it to you right now.” She held her phone out, her bright eyes fixed on mine, glittering with an unmistakable challenge. “$50?” I stood up, my gaze locking onto Ethan’s suddenly evasive face. The anger I’d been suppressing boiled over. “This is a 1,800-square-foot luxury apartment in the heart of downtown, a few minutes’ walk from your office. A place like this rents for at least five grand a month, and you’re letting her stay for fifty bucks? Ethan, are you renting out a room, or are you renting her?” He flushed, a mix of shame and anger. “Zoe! It’s my birthday! Did you come back to celebrate with me or to start a fight? There is nothing going on between Amber and me. She’s my subordinate. What’s wrong with helping her out? Why are you so jealous? A dirty mind sees dirt everywhere.” 4 Being attacked like that was the last straw. “This isn’t just any apartment, Ethan!” I shot back, my voice shaking with rage. “This is our marital home! We’re not even married yet, and you’re already renting it out. What, are you having second thoughts about the wedding?” His face went pale, and his tone softened. “No, of course not, Zoe. It’s not a big deal. I’ll ask Amber to move out before the wedding.” Meow. A soft sound made me look down. A small tabby cat was rubbing against Amber’s slender legs. She scooped it up, cooing, “Oh, my sweet baby.” Then she turned to Ethan, her eyes welling up with tears. “Ethan… we found this little guy on the street together. He finally has a home. We’re both so used to it here. After you get married… does that mean we’ll be homeless again?” The two of them, the girl and the cat, looked like a portrait of pitiful abandonment. Ethan’s jaw tightened. He looked at me, his voice strained. “Zoe, it feels cruel to just kick them out like this. Maybe… maybe we could postpone the wedding for a little while? Just until Amber finishes her internship and saves up enough to find a place nearby?” It felt like I’d been hit over the head. The man standing in front of me was a complete stranger. For an intern and a stray cat, he was willing to rent out our home for pennies. And now he wanted to postpone our wedding? It all clicked. Three months ago, I’d called him late one night, around 9 PM, just missing him after a long day at work. I could hear the sound of a running shower, and he told me he was in the middle of one. But over the water, I’d heard a distinct meow. I asked him when he got a cat. Back when we were together, I had wanted a dog, but he claimed he was allergic to pet dander, so I’d dropped it. He’d insisted I was hearing things and rushed off the phone. The pieces clicked into place with a sickening dread. The cat was already here three months ago. Which meant she was already here three months ago. He wasn’t allergic to pet dander. He was just allergic to me getting a dog. A wave of nausea washed over me. The very sight of him made me sick. 5 “Ethan, you want to postpone our wedding… for an intern and a cat?” I pulled out my phone and opened my contacts. “Fine. You want to postpone? You can call my parents and your parents right now and explain why. If you have the guts to tell them the real reason, I’ll do more than postpone. We can call the whole thing off.” Ethan’s face was a mess of conflict. He didn’t dare take the phone. He’d spoken impulsively, moved by Amber’s crocodile tears, but he knew he couldn’t actually go through with it. Forget my parents; his own would skin him alive. “Oh, no… it’s all my fault,” Amber sobbed, seeing Ethan’s resolve crumble. “It’s me and the cat. We’re causing all this trouble for you. We’ll leave right now.” She dramatically scooped up the cat and made for the door. “Wait, Amber!” Ethan rushed after her, grabbing her from behind. “You don’t know anyone in this city! Where would you even go?” “But… but I don’t want you to fight with Zoe because of me,” she whimpered into his chest. “Amber, you’re just too sweet, too considerate. That’s why people take advantage of you,” he said, stroking her hair. He then turned to me, his voice firm. “Zoe, let’s both take a step back. What if we just rent another apartment nearby to use as our marital home?” I snatched my water glass off the table and hurled its contents at the two of them. “Ah! Zoe, you’ve gone too far!” Ethan shielded Amber from the water, glaring at me as if I were the one trying to tear them apart. “Are you insane, Ethan?” I screamed. “We bought this apartment! Who in their right mind buys a home and then goes and rents a different one to get married in? Did you leave your brain at the office? If you’re so desperate to live with your little intern, then you can go rent her a damn apartment yourself! Stop freeloading in my house, you shameless piece of trash!” I guess he thought my claws had been permanently retracted. He was wrong. “What are you talking about, living together? We’re not!” he stammered, still trying to deny it. Amber, her damsel-in-distress act vanishing, glared at me. “You know, Zoe, I shouldn’t say this, but you and Ethan aren’t actually married yet. His family bought him this apartment as a wedding gift. He has every right to do what he wants with it. If you keep acting like a shrew, you might just find yourself without a fiancé or a place to live.” Her defiant words struck me like lightning. It all made sense now. A glance at Ethan’s guilty face made me laugh, a cold, sharp sound. “Wait a second. You seem to have one very important detail wrong. Who ever told you his family bought this place…”

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