Category: English

In the third year of my marriage to my arch-nemesis, a new intern accidentally spilled water all over the marriage certificate he kept on his desk. Panicked, she rushed it to the city records office to get a replacement. But the clerk told her the certificate was a fake. I went back to the office to confront my husband, Liam. Only to find him pressing the intern against the door, kissing her. “I fought with her for five years,” he murmured, “but I’ve been secretly in love with you for ten.” “Our real marriage certificate? I have it locked away safely in a vault.” Even when the intern pushed me down the stairs and my head split open, Liam just stood there, watching coldly. He pulled the intern into his arms, shielding her from the sight. “Don’t look,” he whispered. “You can’t stand the sight of blood.” Later, due to a delay in treatment, I suffered a cognitive impairment. When I opened my eyes again, my memory was stuck in the year I hated him the most. 1 Two days after the surgery, Liam finally showed up. I was sitting up in my hospital bed, joking with a young nurse. The moment he walked in, my smile vanished. “What are you doing here?” Liam’s gaze lingered for a moment on the bandage on my forehead. He sneered. “Katey’s been worried sick about you for two days, and you’re just in here playing sick?” Before I could process his words, he strode forward and yanked on my IV line. The needle was ripped from my vein. I sucked in a sharp breath of pain. Blood spurted from the back of my hand, and the nurse next to me shrieked, rushing to apply pressure. When my senses returned, I slapped Liam hard across the face. “Did you die a violent death in a past life? Is that why you’re so full of rage?” I spat. “Are you blind? Can’t you see the damn gauze on the back of my head?” Back when we were new hires, Liam and I were at our worst. He called me rigid and boring; I said he was worse than a dog. Our greetings consisted of creative insults aimed at each other’s parents. The slap snapped Liam’s head to the side. He stared at me, completely stunned. He was speechless, but I wasn’t finished. Once the bleeding stopped, I glared at him, ready to have security throw him out. But the nurse’s next words froze me in place. “Mr. Hayes, could you please sign here on the line for Ms. Sterling’s next of kin?” Before Liam could even react, I snatched the clipboard from her. “What are you talking about? What makes him my family?” I trailed off, my eyes fixed on the form. On the line labeled “Spouse,” his name was written in clear, block letters: LIAM HAYES. Liam saw my stunned expression and rubbed his temples. “I know you’re angry with Katey, but her mother is sick. Her dying wish is to see her daughter married.” He sighed. “Katey and I grew up together. I was the most logical choice. I’ll divorce her later.” My movements were stiff as I fumbled for my phone. The contact pinned to the top of my messages, labeled “Hubby,” had Liam’s unchanging profile picture. In our company’s group chat, the new intern, Katey, had just posted, her profile picture a matching half of a couple’s photo with Liam. 【Getting married next month, everyone’s invited to our wedding!】 The photo she attached was deleted a second later, but not before I took a screenshot. It was a wedding photo. Liam was looking at her with such tenderness in his eyes. The chat was exploding with shocked messages, but I couldn’t bring myself to read them. My own photo album didn’t have a single picture of me and Liam together. The doctor had told me the impact had caused some side effects. I had lost the last five years of my memory. I was still reeling from the fact that I was apparently married to my sworn enemy, and now I was staring at his wedding photos with someone else. Just then, a new message popped up. It was from my friend who works at the records office. “You asked me to look up Liam Hayes. He registered a marriage a year ago.” “The spouse’s name is Katey Evans.” “That fake certificate you brought in didn’t have an official seal. It’s not legally valid.” That last sentence felt like a knife twisting in my gut. My head throbbed, a chaotic mess of feelings I couldn’t place. A wave of residual emotion I didn’t understand washed over me, making my nose sting. My silence seemed like an admission to Liam. He frowned and reached for me. “You…” He looked at a loss for words. Of course. We had fought for so long, always at each other’s throats. The idea of me falling for him was utterly absurd. I let out a slow breath. When I looked up again, my face was calm. “Don’t you know office romances are against company policy?” 2 Our conversation was cut short by a call from Katey. Liam’s attempt to explain was derailed by the sound of her crying. He left with a hurried, “I’ll be back,” and never returned. I discharged myself from the hospital and packed my things alone. The young nurse couldn’t stand it, helping me while she complained. “He admits he’s your family but then disappears when you need him.” She was indignant, but I didn’t care. Luckily, I never changed my passwords, so my phone was still usable. I found my new address in my notes app and took a cab. As I was leaving my new apartment building, the man at the bakery on the corner called out, “The usual?” On a strange impulse, I nodded. A moment later, I was holding two buns. Cabbage filling. I hated cabbage. The second I walked into the office, a coworker sidled up to me. “Bringing Mr. Hayes his buns again?” Before he finished speaking, the bag was snatched from my hand. Katey’s face was beaming. “Oh, Sienna, these cabbage buns are my favorite!” Her cloyingly sweet tone made me frown. I snatched the bag back and handed it to my coworker. “These are for you,” I said, raising an eyebrow. “Just be careful not to get any of that fake sweetness on them.” He froze, but before he could react, Liam was there. He pulled a red-eyed Katey behind him and looked down at me. “Just because Katey and I have the same taste, you have to pick on her?” The other employees, who had been gathering to watch, fell silent at his words, their expressions shifting as they looked between the three of us. After all, the two main characters in this drama had become the office’s hottest topic yesterday. My silence stretched on for too long. Someone was about to step in and defend me, but Katey’s sobs started first. Tears streamed down her face, a picture of perfect misery. “I didn’t know you started liking this flavor after I left,” she whimpered. “When I saw the familiar wrapper, I thought they were for me.” Liam shot me a warning look before gently wiping her tears away. My eyes were glued to the watch on his wrist. I had seen a matching one—a woman’s version—on the nightstand at home. By the time I tuned back in, Katey was delivering her final line. “If it bothers you, sister, I can apologize.” The saccharine act was so over the top it was almost impressive. I blinked. “Then apologize.” Katey choked on her next sob, the tears instantly drying up. I, on the other hand, felt a smile spread across my face. I pointed to my ID badge. “You’re an intern. Are you sure you want to make an enemy of a department manager?” I said, emphasizing the word “manager.” “I know you’ve got a big mouth, but you don’t have to use it to talk out of your ass.” According to company policy, Katey should have been fired for her affair with a manager. It was Liam who had taken the fall, accepting a demotion to protect her. I sighed. I couldn’t understand his stupidity. Last night, I’d gone through every single one of our chat logs. We had been in a secret relationship for three years. He had never made us public. Seeing him protect Katey like this now filled me with a complex mix of emotions I couldn’t name. But my expression remained neutral. I put on a pleasant face, picked up a box of his things, and handed it to him. “Time to move to your new desk, Liam.” 3 I had no intention of quitting. I wasn’t the one at fault, so why should I leave? But as I was leaving work, Liam stopped me. His expression was complicated. “Are you still angry?” he muttered. “I didn’t know you were being discharged today. I never meant for Katey to post the invitation in the group chat. It was an accident.” I glanced at him, my words sharper than I intended. “You’re so good at passing the buck, it’s a shame you’re not a chef.” I added, “Seriously, do you think I’m three? How ‘accidental’.” It had been a while since I’d spoken with such venom. Liam was taken aback. He looked at me, then seemed to remember something. “How’s your injury?” The back of my head was still bandaged. I hesitated. I was about to tell him about the memory loss just to get him to leave me alone when Katey ran up and linked her arm through his. “You promised you’d have dinner with me. I’ve been waiting forever.” The distraction was obvious, but it worked. Liam’s attention shifted. He mumbled something about her not causing a scene, but his feet were already turning in her direction. Before he left, he tossed a small box at me. Inside was a necklace with a diamond the size of my pinky nail. I closed the lid as if it were burning my hand and started to go after him, but then I saw Katey turn her head. She casually revealed the massive diamond ring on her finger. “I’ve been wearing the ring you proposed with in front of my mom this whole time,” she said sweetly. “Mom says we should all go see her this weekend.” I instinctively looked down at my own ring finger. It was bare. I was still standing there long after their car had driven away. A coworker passed by. “Finally getting rid of that Katey girl,” she said. “She’s caused nothing but trouble.” I grunted in agreement, my eyes on the file in my hand. Katey had been assigned to Liam’s team as an intern. Now that he was demoted, his responsibilities had been transferred to me. The first thing I did was terminate her contract. I thought for a moment, then sent Katey a message. The reply was a picture: a hand with a diamond ring, holding a bouquet of roses, the cuff of a man’s suit just visible in the corner. I sent a question mark. A moment later, a new message from Katey appeared in the company group chat. “I don’t understand why some people feel the need to interfere in other people’s relationships.” “My last announcement was a warning. But some people just don’t get the hint.” A few people replied with popcorn emojis. I just scoffed. If she wasn’t going to listen to reason, then neither was I. I blocked Katey and removed her from the group chat. A moment later, my phone lit up with a message from Liam. “Why did you kick Katey out of the group? Can you stop throwing tantrums?” When I didn’t reply, he threatened, “Add her back. Don’t make me call you out in front of the whole company.” He was so sure I wouldn’t defy him over something so small. But I just typed back a few sentences. “Didn’t the doctor tell you, as my next of kin? I lost the last five years of my memory.” “Forget just insulting you to your faces. I’ll carve it on your tombstones when you’re dead.” “And don’t worry, you’ll be joining your dear Katey soon enough.” Then, I opened my family group chat, tagged my brother, and sent a message. 【Your sister’s in trouble at her own company. Get your ass over here, stat.】

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During an interview, my ex-husband Jacob was asked, “A man like you—surely you have few regrets?” He gazed into the camera. “My only mistake,” he said smoothly, “was loving the wrong woman—a viper who bore me a heartless daughter.” Then, smiling, he added, “But fate gave me Vera and the child she carries.” That night, as Jacob dined with Vera, a news bulletin interrupted: “Police found two bodies in East Mountain—a woman, 25-30, and a child under five. Both were brutally murdered…” Vera’s fork froze. Jacob dismissed the TV. I stood before them, gripping my daughter’s hand, coldly smiling. She stared at the dark screen, then asked, “Mommy, why were we on TV?” 01 Vera’s lips trembled, and a fine sheen of sweat broke out on her forehead. Jacob’s handsome brows furrowed in concern. “What’s wrong, Vera? Are you feeling unwell? Is the baby kicking up a fuss again?” Vera took a deep breath, put down her fork, and forced a smile. “No… no, I’m fine. That news report just… startled me.” Jacob let out a sigh of relief, gently placing his hand over hers. “It’s alright. I had Mrs. Gable turn it off. We won’t watch news like that anymore. It’s not good for you to get stressed while you’re pregnant.” He stroked her hand. “My Vera. Still so kind-hearted.” Kind-hearted? I stared at Vera’s ashen face and wanted to laugh. Jacob was my ex-husband. We met in college, a whirlwind romance that led to marriage right after graduation. And Vera… Vera was my best friend from the orphanage where we grew up. When Vera couldn’t find a job after college, I asked Jacob to give her a position at his company. I never imagined that one act of kindness would ultimately lead to my own death, and my daughter’s. Our daughter, Bella, was three when she was kidnapped. The kidnappers called our home, but Jacob was working late and wasn’t answering his phone. I had no choice but to take the ransom money and go to the location they gave me. When I arrived at the abandoned warehouse on East Mountain, I found Bella’s small body covered in bruises. The moment she saw me, she burst into tears, crying out for her mommy. My heart shattered. I scrambled forward and wrapped her in my arms, then bowed my head to the kidnappers, begging. “Please, I didn’t call the police. I brought the money. Please, just don’t hurt my daughter. I’m begging you.” But they didn’t want money that day. They wanted our lives. They tore my fingernails out, one by one. They doused me in acid, bottle after agonizing bottle. The last one, they forced down my throat. Bella screamed and pleaded beside me, her voice raw and heartbreaking, but the searing fire in my own throat kept me from making a sound. By the end, there wasn’t an unblemished piece of flesh left on my body. As I lay dying, Vera stepped out from the shadows. She stood over me, arms crossed, her eyes filled with a chilling disgust. “If you have to blame someone, blame your own good luck,” she sneered. “What makes you so much better than me? Why did you get to marry the great Jacob Brodie while I was stuck as a secretary at his company? So what if I slept with him? Do you know what he told me? He said he would never marry me. Hah! How pathetic.” “Eleanor, weren’t we best friends?” she continued, her voice dripping with venom. “You’ve had your good life. It’s time you made way for me.” She turned to the kidnappers. “Get rid of them. Take them up the mountain. And be careful. Don’t let anyone find them.” When Jacob discovered we were missing, he searched for us like a man possessed. But Vera was ready. She presented him with a collection of forged photographs and faked chat logs, even fabricated records of large withdrawals from the company accounts. She told him I had been in love with someone else for years, that I’d only married him for his money. She told him I hadn’t been kidnapped—I’d run off with my lover, taking the company’s money and our daughter with me. Vera was my only friend. I had told her everything. Jacob believed her without question. He called off the search. He fell into a deep depression, and Vera became his constant companion, the comforting presence who saw him through his darkest days. They fell in love. They got married. And now, Vera was pregnant. And my body, and my daughter’s, had finally been found. 02 Vera pushed her bowl away. “Jacob, I can’t eat anymore. I’m tired. I think I’ll head to bed early.” He suspected nothing. He took her hand and led her to the bedroom. “Alright, let’s get some rest. I don’t have much on at the office tomorrow, so I can spend the day with you.” My daughter and I were pulled along with them, two invisible specters floating into their room. Ever since our deaths, we’d been bound to Jacob, unable to leave his side no matter how hard I tried. I had no choice but to watch, day after day, as he and Vera played out their sickeningly sweet love story. Vera was six months pregnant now, the curve of her belly prominent as she lay on the bed. Jacob carefully pressed his ear to her stomach. “Hey there, little one. It’s Daddy. Mommy’s not feeling well today, so you be a good baby, okay? No mischief.” The tender scene made my spectral eyes burn. I thought death was supposed to end the pain, but for three years, every time I witnessed a moment like this, my heart still ached with an agony that left me breathless. Bella tugged on my hand, her soft voice choked with tears. “Mommy, is Daddy going to have another baby?” Her lip quivered. “Daddy’s a liar. He promised he only wanted me. He lied.” I knelt and pulled her into a tight embrace. I wanted to comfort her, but the words wouldn’t come. How could I comfort my three-year-old daughter when I couldn’t even comfort myself? The next day, Vera slept until noon. Jacob stayed home with her, forgoing work. When she finally woke, his handsome eyes crinkled with a smile. “You’re awake. How about we go out for a bit? The nursery isn’t finished yet. We can pick out a few more things.” Bella and I were forced to follow them out the door. At the city’s largest department store, Vera was instantly captivated by the adorable baby items, her mood lifting as she browsed. Jacob stood beside her, his arm around her waist, commenting on each of her choices. To any onlooker, they were the perfect couple. A sales assistant smiled at them. “You two make such a lovely pair. A handsome man and a beautiful woman. Your baby will be absolutely gorgeous.” I looked away, unable to watch anymore. But as I lowered my gaze, I saw my daughter standing forlornly in the toy section, her eyes fixed on a Barbie doll. She reached for it again and again, her small, translucent hand passing straight through the plastic. Finally, her hand dropped to her side, and fat, silent tears rolled down her cheeks. Just then, Jacob’s voice rang out. “This one, that one, and all the others we looked at. Wrap them up and have them delivered to the Brodie residence.” Vera laughed playfully. “Why are you buying so many toys? The baby won’t be able to play with them for ages. You’re just wasting money.” Jacob’s gentle gaze fell to Vera’s stomach. “My child deserves the best of everything in the world. He doesn’t have to play with them, but I have to buy them.” I quickly turned to my daughter. She had seen it too. She stared at her father, then at the sales assistants busily packing up the toys. Her little head drooped. I couldn’t see her face, only her small shoulders, shaking with silent sobs. I rushed to her side and heard her whispering to herself. “Daddy doesn’t love Bella anymore… Daddy doesn’t love Bella anymore…” She repeated the phrase over and over, the brokenness in her voice squeezing my heart like a vise. The hatred I felt for Vera surged, becoming a tidal wave of pure rage. Thief! That’s what Vera was. A thief. She didn’t just steal my life and my husband. She stole my daughter’s life. She stole my daughter’s father. Suddenly, Jacob’s phone rang. As he listened, his brow furrowed deeper and deeper. “Hello, is this Mr. Jacob Brodie? This is the East District police precinct. We’ve discovered two bodies on East Mountain, and we have strong reason to believe they are your ex-wife, Eleanor Vance, and your daughter.” “Sir, are you available to come down to the station?” 03 Jacob didn’t speak for a long moment, his brow knitted in confusion, as if he couldn’t process what he’d just heard. Vera looked at him, concerned. “Jacob? What is it?” He seemed to snap back to reality, his voice turning cold as he spoke into the phone. “Scammers are getting creative these days. Don’t you know who you’re calling?” “You have the wrong number. I don’t know anyone named Eleanor Vance.” With that, he hung up. Perhaps connecting the call to last night’s news report, Vera’s face went pale. “Jacob, who was that? Why would they mention Eleanor?” He locked his phone, his tone breezy. “Nobody. Just a spam call. Ignore it.” He probably didn’t even notice the tightness in his own voice, or the slight tremor in the hand holding his phone. Vera tried again. “But—” He cut her off. “Enough. Let’s not talk about such unpleasant things.” He forced a smile. “Come on. I’ve booked dinner on a luxury cruise tonight. We won’t go home. I’ll take you out, clear your head.” Vera hid her unease and managed a weak nod. After dinner in the ship’s top-deck restaurant, Jacob led Vera out onto the deck. She leaned against the railing, tilting her head back to feel the cool night sea breeze. “Jacob, I feel so happy,” she murmured. “When I was a little girl in the orphanage, I was bullied all the time. I used to wish a prince would come and rescue me. I’d marry him, and we’d have a home of our own.” She looked at him, her eyes shining. “I feel like my dream has come true. I have you, and our baby. I finally have a family.” Jacob stood behind her and wrapped his arms gently around her waist. The sight burned my eyes. Through a blur of tears, I saw Jacob as he was when he first confessed his love for me. Back then, he was the sole heir to the Brodie Corporation, and I was a parentless orphan paying my tuition with student loans. Yet, for six months, he pursued me relentlessly. Faced with my repeated rejections, the eighteen-year-old boy had stood before me, his face flushed. “Ellie, I know you have walls up. But can you please, just once, trust me? I’ll cherish you. I’ll give you a home.” His voice cracked with emotion. “You’re not alone anymore. You have me.” The stars were so bright that night, just as bright as they were now. But the boy’s eyes, full of a nervous, anxious hope, burned even brighter. I don’t know if it was the starlight in his eyes or the sincerity in his voice that finally broke through. But on that day, I nodded. Vera’s voice pulled me back to the present. “Jacob, thank you for giving me a home.” The arms around her waist suddenly went rigid. When he didn’t respond, Vera turned in confusion to look at him. Jacob was staring at her face, his expression unreadable. After a long silence, he spoke, his voice barely a whisper. “Vera… did Ellie really run off with another man?”

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A freak accident connected me to my younger self from ten years ago. The girl—bright-eyed and in love—whispered excitedly: “I saw Charles’s hidden ring! Will he propose? Will we be happy forever?” Silently, I turned on my camera. Weak from my miscarriage, I shuffled to the hospital door. Down the hall, Charles embraced a tearful Emily—the woman who’d just hit me with her car. “Don’t worry,” he murmured. “I’ll hire the best lawyer. The baby’s father never even showed up anyway.” He didn’t know that father was him. My younger self paled as realization dawned. “So,” I asked softly, “still want this future?” Only heavy silence answered—and I knew: this was God’s second chance. 1 I was in the hospital for three days. Not a single call from Charles to ask if I was okay. When I finally returned to our home, Lynden Villa, he was just stepping out of the shower. Seeing me, he gestured vaguely toward a gift box on the coffee table. “Clara, I’m sorry. I’ve been stuck in meetings overseas these past few days. I’ve been neglecting you.” He offered a lazy smile. “This is for you. A little something to make up for it.” His apology was as hollow as the gift—a trinket that was merely a complementary piece to the necklace Emily wore. I just nodded, tossing the box aside without a second glance. The last couple of days, Charles seemed to be in a remarkably good mood. He came home unusually early and even brought me a slice of mango cake. “I don’t like mango.” My rejection didn’t seem to faze him. “Oh. I just assumed all women liked sweet things like mango.” The moment he said it, the voice of my younger self crackled through my earpiece, laced with disbelief. “How could he forget? I’m allergic to mangoes…” The first year we were together, I had a severe allergic reaction after accidentally drinking juice with mango in it. I broke out in hives, struggled to breathe, and was rushed to the emergency room. He had sat by my bedside then, sobbing like a child, repeating over and over again, “Clara, I’m so sorry, it’s all my fault… I swear I’ll remember everything you can and can’t eat from now on!” How many years had it been? Everything had changed. It wasn’t that I hadn’t considered divorce. But the Vance and Blackwood family businesses were so deeply intertwined, a clean break was nearly impossible. Charles would never agree to it. “Clara, I’ve got an early start tomorrow. I won’t be sleeping at home tonight.” Charles meticulously styled his hair, spritzed cologne on his collar, and grabbed his jacket, leaving without a backward glance. I knew what was happening tomorrow. The annual company gala. I hadn’t attended in two years. This year would likely be the same. 2 But the next morning, Charles’s assistant, Alex, showed up at my door with a gown. A surprising, almost unheard-of gesture. It was a size too big. Not my style, not my fit. But Alex was insistent, rushing me to get changed. When I arrived at the grand estate where the gala was being held, the looks from the employees were a mixture of surprise, curiosity, and, most of all, pity. In the powder room, I overheard their hushed whispers. “If the boss is still married to Clara, doesn’t that make Emily Hayes the other woman? She’s so shameless about it!” “Keep your voice down! If she hears you, you’re finished. Mr. Grant just mentioned that Emily wasn’t as competent as Clara, and the boss fired him on the spot. Even threatened to run him out of Port Sterling!” Mr. Grant was one of the company’s founding pillars. And Charles had cast him aside for Emily without a second thought. I lost the heart to listen any longer and made my way into the ballroom. Charles’s eyes widened in shock when he saw me. Emily was standing beside him, wearing a gown that perfectly complemented his tuxedo. The triumph in her eyes was unmistakable. I understood instantly. The ill-fitting dress had been her doing. Charles steered Emily toward me. “Clara, this is Emily Hayes, a student I sponsor. She’s a brilliant pianist—just won the national gold medal yesterday.” His admiration for her was raw and undisguised. Emily playfully tapped his chest. “Oh, stop. Clara’s the real genius. I was using her old piano, and I still can’t make it sing the way she did.” Charles just smiled, ruffling her hair with a tenderness that made my stomach churn. “You’re too modest.” He then turned to me, his tone casual, almost an afterthought. “By the way, Clara, I gave the grand piano from the house to Emily. You can’t play anymore, so it was just collecting dust.” “Fine,” I said. It was just an 18th birthday present from him. If Emily wanted it, she could have it. 3 I watched them, clinging to each other. There was a time when Charles wouldn’t let any woman other than me within arm’s length. Now, Emily was the glaring exception. He acted like a teenager with his first crush, even getting into a fistfight with a business partner to defend her honor. And I, like a fool, had thrown myself in front of him to stop it. A shard of shattered glass had sliced through my right hand, severing the ligaments. After countless surgeries, my fingers could no longer command the keys of my beloved piano. Charles raised an eyebrow, about to say something more, but a sudden gasp cut him off. In a flash, he shoved me aside, catching Emily as she stumbled. He gave her a light pat on the backside, feigning anger. “I told you not to wear those heels. See? Now your ankle’s twisted.” Emily buried her face in his chest, but her eyes were on me. She mouthed the words silently, a cruel smirk on her lips. “You’re pathetic, Clara Vance.” Everyone in the company knew about their affair. The weight of their pitying stares was suffocating. I fled the ballroom, seeking refuge in the cool night air of the garden. From a shadowed corner, I heard the rustle of clothing and a woman’s soft moan. “Honey… who do you like more? Your little kitten, or that Clara?” Charles’s breathing grew heavy. “She’s like a dead fish in bed. How could she ever compare to my feisty little fox?” His voice was thick with desire. “And that face of hers… she was pretty when she was young, I guess. Now, I can’t even bring myself to kiss it.” That was my husband. Tearing me down just to turn on another woman. My younger self had heard it all through the earpiece. After a long, crushing silence, she hung up the phone. 4 Back at home, a friend from my conservatory days sent me a video. [Clara, do you know this student? Her style is so much like yours.] In the video, Emily sat at a piano, playing the very piece I had composed for Charles as a gift. The piece that had just won her a national gold medal. The original manuscript was with Charles. Without hesitation, I packaged the video, along with a comparative analysis of clips from my previous works, and sent it all to a journalist I trusted. Almost overnight, Emily was engulfed in a plagiarism scandal. When Charles found out, he immediately used his position as my husband to issue a public statement in her defense: As Clara Vance’s husband of ten years, I can confirm that while my wife has composed many brilliant pieces, this is not one of them. Emily Hayes is a student I sponsor and a remarkably talented pianist in her own right. The Blackwood Corporation’s legal team will pursue action against any and all parties spreading these baseless rumors. Shortly after, Emily posted a photo of the manuscript. Some people bought it, but many remained skeptical. That evening, Charles came home, yanking off his tie in frustration. His tone was not of a request, but a command. “Clara, I need you to release a statement. Confirm that the piece was written by Emily.” My fists clenched. For the first time, I fought back. “Charles, I will not help a thief legitimize the theft of my work!” His response was a sharp, stinging slap across my face. “Clara, wake up! You’re just a cripple who can’t even play anymore. What good are these compositions to you now? It’s an honor for you that she can play your music.” The world swam before my eyes. He snatched my phone and began typing out the statement, posting it online under my name. I watched his fluid, practiced movements and suddenly, a bitter laugh escaped my lips. “Charles, do you even remember what that piece was? It was my wedding gift to you.” He froze, a flicker of panic in his eyes before he masked it with a cold resolve. “It’s just one song. You can write countless more. But Emily is young. Her career can’t be tainted by this.” I smiled faintly, whispering to myself, “You heard him, didn’t you?” Charles was too busy cleaning up his mistress’s mess to notice. Through my earpiece, I heard my younger self take a deep, steadying breath. Her voice, when it came, was firm and resolute. “Don’t worry,” she said. “I won’t be accepting Charles’s proposal.” “If this love is doomed to turn rotten, then I would rather never have had it at all.” 5 Charles confiscated all my electronics, turning our luxurious villa into a gilded cage. As if to keep an eye on me, he started coming home for dinner every night. We would sit in silence across the large dining table, with him playing the part of the attentive husband, placing food on my plate as if the ugliness between us had never happened. My gaze fell to his left hand. His ring finger was bare. The wedding band he had worn for nearly a decade was gone, leaving only a faint, pale mark on his skin. He noticed me looking and instinctively touched the spot, his expression shifting. “Must have lost it in the shower a few days ago,” he said, a little too quickly. “We can pick out a new pair for our tenth anniversary.” “Alright,” I agreed, still clinging to the foolish hope that we could end this with some dignity. At the jeweler’s, when the consultant prepared to measure my finger, I stopped her. Instead, I gave her Emily’s ring size. I was waiting in the private viewing room when Emily herself appeared. She watched Charles, who was completely absorbed in selecting the perfect diamond, and her face tightened with a jealousy she couldn’t hide. “This is just a marriage of convenience,” she hissed. “Charles loves me! Do you want to bet? One phone call from me, and he’ll leave you here in a heartbeat.” How could I not believe her? When my grandfather was on his deathbed, one call from Emily had been enough to pull Charles away. He disappeared for three days, without a word. My grandfather passed away still asking for him. That night, Charles booked out an entire restaurant. The air was filled with the soft melody of a string quartet. The special ringtone he had set for Emily shattered the tranquility. His face tensed. “It’s just work. Not important,” he lied, but I saw his Adam’s apple bob as he fought to control himself. His eyes were dark, clouded with a barely concealed lust. “Clara, something urgent came up at the office. I have to go, but you have to wait for me here. I have a surprise for you.” I didn’t answer. He didn’t need one. The clock struck midnight. Fireworks exploded over the river, a spectacular, custom display lighting up the night sky. The very show Charles had once promised would be mine alone. At the same moment, a video arrived on my phone from Emily. Through the floor-to-ceiling window of a dark bedroom, the brilliant colors of the fireworks illuminated the scene within. I could clearly see Charles and Emily, tangled together in a passionate embrace. On their entwined hands, the new rings I had just “chosen” glinted in the explosive light. I walked over to the vase of imported roses on the table and dumped them into the trash. Ten years ago, my younger self had just refused his proposal. Charles. This time, we were really over. For good.

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The city’s elite knew my nightly ritual: hunting for my husband, Asher Thorne, who slept in a different woman’s bed each night. He hated me for driving his first love to her death. I hated him for refusing to look at me for a decade. We were caged animals, tearing each other apart. But when a truck careened toward us, he shielded me with his body, coughing up blood but smiling. “My debt is paid,” he gasped. “Next life… let me go. I miss her.” I crawled from the wreckage, refusing to die with him. Later, I stood before my father. “I’ll marry into the Bartlett family.” This time, I’d give Asher what he wanted—his freedom, his love. All of it. 1 The grand crystal chandelier in the ballroom came crashing down again. But this time, Asher Thorne, the man I was supposed to save, shoved me out of the way. A flicker of relief crossed his face. The next second, to my horror, he was swallowed by a shower of shattering crystal. The deafening crash was followed by a wave of screams that ripped through the ballroom. I stared, numb, at the blood blooming across the pristine white carpet. I understood. He had been reborn, too. In our last life, I saved him. But I wasn’t fast enough to save myself. The chandelier had crushed my leg, leaving me with a permanent limp. I used that injury, that debt, to force him to marry me, even though I knew his heart belonged to my stepsister. This time, he chose to be buried under a ton of glass and steel rather than owe me anything. They carried him out on a stretcher, a bloody mess. Well-meaning guests pushed me towards the ambulance. “Go on, Vivienne! Asher needs you right now!” The words were a dagger in my heart. I turned and pushed my stepsister, Chloe, towards the open doors instead. “You go.” She gave me a surprised look, but before she could speak, the paramedics shut the doors and the ambulance sped away. The guests stared at me, bewildered. “Vivienne, why aren’t you going? He was trying to save you.” “Exactly! You two grew up together. How can you let someone else be with him at a time like this?” I didn’t answer. I just watched the ambulance disappear into the night. Twice now, he had chosen such a brutal way to sever our connection. I couldn’t understand it. What was it about me that he found so repulsive? After the disastrous gala, I returned to the family mansion. “You want to take Chloe’s place and marry into the Bartlett family?” my father asked, thinking he’d misheard. He knew how much I despised Chloe, the illegitimate daughter who had stormed into my mother’s hospital room during her final days. She’d stood over my dying mother and sneered that the one who isn’t loved is the real homewrecker. It was the final blow that broke my mother’s will to live. “Just yesterday you were swearing you’d marry Asher Thorne or no one,” he reminded me. I paused, avoiding the question. “Chloe came to you again today to try and break the engagement, didn’t she?” My father’s expression tightened. In our last life, around this time, Julian Bartlett, the sole heir to the Bartlett fortune, had a car accident that left him paralyzed from the waist down. The Bartletts were not a family to be trifled with. Breaking the engagement at a time like this would bring ruin upon our entire family. After a moment of thought, his face grew grave. “The wedding is next month. You can change your mind anytime before then.” I hid a bitter smile. He was thrilled. He had always preferred the sweet-talking Chloe to me. If it weren’t for the fear of being seen as a man who mistreated his late wife’s only child, he would have forced me into this marriage from the start. By the time I left his study, my phone was blowing up with messages. Everyone assumed Asher had been injured saving me. Even if it was just for show, I had to go see him. When I pushed open his hospital room door, he was propped up against the pillows, a thick bandage wrapped around his forehead. Chloe was sitting by his bed. When he saw me, his voice softened. “Chloe, could you give us a minute?” She nodded obediently, murmuring a timid, “Sister,” as she passed me. The door clicked shut, and the room fell silent. His eyes scanned my legs, and a visible wave of relief washed over him. My mouth filled with a bitter taste. He was checking to make sure I didn’t have a broken leg to hold over his head this time. Seeing his pale, bloodless face, a lump formed in my throat. “Does it hurt…?” “Vivienne.” He cut me off, his voice weak but firm. “I saved you. Can you do one thing for me in return?” My heart sank. “What is it?” He took a deep breath. “Don’t force Chloe to marry Julian Bartlett. Your mother’s death had nothing to do with her. She was just a child.” My hands, hanging at my sides, clenched into fists. He hadn’t changed at all. He still thought I was forcing Chloe into a marriage with a disabled man out of spite. I managed a brittle smile. “Asher, you’re always so presumptuous.” He frowned, confused. “What do you mean?” He wanted to ask more, but I turned and left, giving him no chance. I wasn’t going to tell him that I was the one getting married now. I would let him wonder, let him worry, let him toss and turn in his hospital bed. I would let his heart hang in suspense. Until the day I married Julian Bartlett, he would suffer right alongside me. 2 A week later, I stood in front of a mirror, wearing the bespoke wedding gown from the Bartletts. I couldn’t bring myself to smile. In our last life, Chloe had worn this very dress when she jumped from the eighteenth floor of a skyscraper, dying right in front of Asher and me. It was the beginning of a decade of mutual torment. After the fitting, I went home and began to burn everything that connected me to Asher. My hand paused when I found a brightly colored beaded bracelet. We were just kids, playing house. Asher had gotten down on one knee, holding out this bracelet like it was a diamond ring. “This is our promise,” he’d said, mimicking the actors on TV. “When I grow up, I’m going to marry you.” The memory was so sweet that a small smile touched my lips. I slipped the bracelet onto my wrist without thinking. I was pulled from my thoughts by the butler, who informed me I had a guest. Asher was sitting in the parlor, the bandage still on his forehead. He sat ramrod straight, like he was here for a negotiation. “Vivienne,” my father said, his expression complicated. “Asher has come with a very generous offer from the Thorne family.” Several documents were spread across the table. Property deeds, project transfer agreements, even a stake in the Thorne family’s core business in the city. I scoffed. “Is this a marriage proposal, Mr. Thorne?” Asher looked up, his voice raspy. “Whatever the Bartletts can give your family, the Thornes can give more. Just call off Chloe’s engagement, and we can sign these today.” It was practically his entire net worth. He was really willing to risk it all for her. I bit the inside of my cheek to keep the bitterness down. My father looked at me. “Vivienne, what do you think?” I stepped forward and coolly pushed the documents back across the table. “This alliance was decided long ago. To back out now, just because the Bartlett heir has had an accident… our family cannot afford to be known as dishonorable.” “Vivienne!” Asher shot up, grabbing my wrist. “Why do you have to interfere? You know what Julian Bartlett is like now! You’ll be the death of Chloe!” “Her death?” I yanked my arm free, my laugh sharp and humorless. “Her very name is the result of her mother sleeping her way into this family. A bastard child who has lived the life of a princess for years. Now she’s being asked to fulfill a promise, and you call that pushing her to her death? I don’t care if Julian Bartlett is disabled. Even if he were dying tomorrow, she would still have to walk down that aisle!” A soft sob came from behind the decorative screen. Chloe ran out, her eyes red and puffy. Asher’s face paled. He looked at me in disbelief. “You knew she was listening?” I tilted my head. “Of course.” Those words were for both of them. I hated her. If she hadn’t killed herself in our last life, leaving a permanent thorn between us, Asher and I might have had a chance. He ground his teeth. “When did you become so vicious?” He threw the words at me like stones before turning and chasing after her. My breath caught in my throat. I tilted my head back, forcing back the sting in my eyes. I thought the drama was over. But later, Asher cornered me in the garden. I don’t know what Chloe told him, but his eyes were blazing with fury. “Vivienne, she may be your stepsister, but she truly sees you as a sister. Your mother’s death was not her fault! How old was she? She has felt guilty about it to this day! I don’t understand how your mother, who was such a kind woman, could have given birth to such a cruel, selfish daughter!” SMACK. The force of my slap sent his head snapping to the side. My hand was trembling. “Asher Thorne,” I seethed, “you have no right to talk about my mother.” On her deathbed, my mother had entrusted me to him. And in return, he had turned his affections to the very person who had caused her so much pain. “I’m telling you now, I will never back down. If she has to die, she’ll die at her own wedding!” My words were like a lit match to gasoline. “Enough!” he roared. His eyes were bloodshot as he glared at me, and I met his gaze without flinching. It was just like old times. But then, his expression softened. His eyes fixed on the colorful bracelet on my wrist. “…You kept it.” My heart lurched. The thorns I had so carefully erected around myself retracted. He was right. I didn’t want to repeat the mistakes of our past life. I let out a breath. “Asher… actually, I’ve decided to take…” Before I could finish, he lunged forward and ripped the bracelet from my wrist. The colorful beads scattered across the stone path with a series of sharp clicks. “Don’t use the past to manipulate me,” he snarled. “I won’t let you destroy Chloe! Vivienne, just you wait.” I stood frozen for a long time. Finally, I knelt and began to pick up the scattered beads, one by one. Tears fell, silent and unnoticed, onto the cold stone. It’s better this way, I told myself. A clean break. There shouldn’t be anything between us anymore. 3 In the days leading up to the wedding, the rumors started. “Did you hear? Vivienne is forcing her stepsister to marry that cripple from the Bartlett family.” “How could she? All for a few hundred million in investments.” “No wonder Asher Thorne has been avoiding her. He must have seen her for who she really is.” I sat at an auction, pretending not to hear. Then, Chloe appeared, greeting me with a cheerful smile. “Sister, what a coincidence! What are you doing here?” I gave her a cold look. She either didn’t notice or didn’t care. “Oh, and about those rumors…” she said, her brow furrowed with fake concern. “Don’t worry, I’ll clear things up for you. After all, you’re the one who’s actually marrying into the Bartlett family…” The wedding was just days away. It was time she was told about the change of plans. I took a sip of champagne, a cynical smile on my face. “Aren’t you the one who started those rumors? What’s there to clear up?” Her innocent expression vanished, replaced by a cold hardness. “So what if I did?” she whispered, her voice dripping with venom. “It was supposed to be me from the start. The rumors aren’t exactly wrong, are they? All these years, playing the dutiful daughter for Father, the gentle soul for Asher, the gracious lady for everyone else. It makes me sick. You’re just like your mother. You both act so virtuous, but underneath you’re just a pair of hypocritical, conniving bitches.” I raised my hand to slap her, but my wrist was caught in a viselike grip. “Vivienne? What do you think you’re doing now?” Asher had appeared behind me. He shoved me, hard. I stumbled back, my high heel twisting, and I fell to the ground. My champagne flute shattered, sending shards of glass flying. “Sister!” Chloe cried out, rushing to help me up. “Don’t touch her! It’s all broken glass, you’ll get cut,” Asher said, pulling her back. But then he stepped forward and offered me his hand. I gritted my teeth and slapped it away, pushing myself up from the floor. My palm was sliced open, and the pain made my hand tremble. “Asher, she just insulted my mother. She called my mother a…” The words were too vile to repeat. He awkwardly withdrew his hand and turned to Chloe with a frown. Tears welled in Chloe’s eyes as she shook her head pitifully. “I didn’t… I just told her you came with me… I don’t understand why she would lie about me like that.” The doubt in Asher’s eyes vanished, replaced by a cold disgust. “You’re becoming more and more repulsive,” he said to me. “To frame Chloe, you’d even use your dead mother.” He took a step closer, looking down at my bleeding hand. “Look at yourself. You’re no different than a bitter, scorned shrew.” A wave of nausea washed over me. The auction’s opening announcement sounded, saving me. I shoved past Asher and returned to my seat. I had more important things to do today. Asher bought Chloe several small trinkets—a brooch, a hair clip. He was acting like he’d brought her here for a day of fun. Then, the final item was brought to the stage. “A jade pendant from the Qing Dynasty. Starting bid, five million.” I was about to raise my paddle when a gasp went through the crowd. “Mr. Thorne has lit the lantern!” I whipped my head around to see Asher staring at me, his eyes cold and hard. Whispers erupted around us. “Is he trying to outbid Vivienne?” “I heard they had a falling out over the Bartlett marriage. I guess it’s true.” I bit my lip, forcing back the wave of hurt and betrayal. This jade pendant was my mother’s most treasured dowry gift. The family had been forced to sell it when we were on the brink of bankruptcy. Now, finally, it was back. He knew what it meant to me. After the auction, I cornered him in the parking garage. “Why?” Before Asher could speak, Chloe jumped in. “Sister, I’ve been having nightmares lately, and I thought a protective amulet might help.” She glanced at me timidly. “But if it makes you unhappy, I can give it to you.” Asher frowned, pulling her behind him. “Chloe, you don’t have to do that.” He glared at me. “It’s because you always back down that she keeps pushing you.” I laughed, a harsh, grating sound. “I’m pushing her? Or are you two pushing me?” I pointed a trembling finger at Asher. “You knew that was my mother’s. How could you help her take it from me?” “Why do you think she’s having nightmares?” Asher retorted. “It’s because you’re forcing her into this marriage! She’s terrified! All she wanted was a symbol of peace. What’s wrong with that?” He paused, looking away. “Besides, it belonged to your mother. She was such a kind soul. I’m sure she would want her spirit to watch over Chloe.” What? The world went black for a second. The next thing I knew, my palm was stinging. I had slapped him, hard. Chloe gasped and rushed forward, clutching the jade pendant. “Sister, I’m sorry… please don’t be angry. I’ll give it back to you… Please don’t blame Asher…” She made a show of handing the pendant to me, but before I could take it, it slipped from her fingers and shattered on the concrete floor. The air froze. Chloe burst into tears, frantically trying to pick up the pieces. “How did this happen… Sister, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to…” Asher pulled her up, afraid she would cut her hands. I stared at the broken jade, my body trembling. The world around me faded into a dull roar. The last thread of my control snapped. I ran to my car, jumped in, and slammed my foot on the gas. The engine roared to life. I aimed the car directly at Chloe. Her face went white. She screamed, her act of contrition forgotten, and scrambled backward. Asher’s eyes widened in horror. “Vivienne, are you insane?!” he roared, pounding on my window, trying to get me to stop. “If you kill her, I’ll hate you for the rest of my life!” I glared at him, then stomped on the accelerator. The car shot forward. Chloe screamed, crawling desperately across the pavement. Just as I was about to hit her, Asher’s SUV slammed into my car from the side. The world spun, and my vision was filled with the spiderweb crack of the windshield. Then, everything went red. Through the haze of pain, I saw Asher stumble out of his car. The last thing I heard before I lost consciousness was his desperate, heartbroken scream. “Vivienne!” I woke up to the stark white ceiling of a hospital room. Asher had kept a vigil by my bedside for seven days and seven nights. When he saw me open my eyes, a flash of joy lit up his face. Just then, his phone buzzed. It was the special ringtone he had set for Chloe. The light in his eyes died. He turned to me, his voice raspy and cold. “Vivienne, your mother asked me to look after you before she died, and I’ve never forgotten that. But if you ever try to hurt Chloe again, I won’t hesitate to destroy you myself. That cripple from the Bartlett family doesn’t deserve her. I will stop this wedding. Don’t interfere. This is your last chance.” He answered the phone and walked out without a backward glance. I slowly turned my head, letting the tears fall freely. On the pillow beside me lay the jade pendant, its pieces painstakingly joined together with gold. Because of my “accident,” the wedding was postponed for two weeks.

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Good news: I slept with an alpha god. Better news: We became fuck buddies. Horrible news: He’s my new boss. My world imploded. 01 “Again.” The furnace of a body behind me pressed closer, a low rumble in his chest. “Still want more?” I murmured, my voice rough with sleep and overuse. My words feigned reluctance, but my body was a traitor, arching back into his touch. I turned my head, and our lips met in a hungry, bruising kiss. … Damian Halvorson and I spent the entire weekend as a blur of tangled limbs and sleepless nights. By the time Sunday evening rolled around, he still looked at me with the insatiable hunger of a man who’d just discovered his favorite meal. I painstakingly located my clothes on the chaotic landscape of the floor, forcing myself to push away. “No more. I have an early meeting tomorrow. Can’t be late.” I added, “The new CEO is starting. Gotta make a good first impression.” He was sprawled on the bed, shirtless and magnificent, a sigh of pure regret escaping his lips. “Fine. See you next week.” “Deal.” Monday morning, I was a model employee: crisp suit, polished shoes, company ID clipped to my pocket. Chloe, from the cubicle next to mine, leaned over, her voice a conspiratorial whisper. “Did you hear? The new CEO is supposed to be young and ridiculously hot.” I wasn’t interested in his looks. “I just hope he’s not a monster,” I replied, booting up my computer. Our last CEO was a nightmare who treated us like his personal workhorses. We’d all been counting the days until his transfer. In the conference room, the new CEO made his grand entrance to a wave of enthusiastic applause. As he took his place at the head of the table, my world tilted on its axis. My blood ran cold. It was Damian Halvorson. My fuck buddy. How could the world be this small? I wanted the floor to swallow me whole. Thankfully, the room was packed, and he didn’t seem to notice me as I tried to shrink into my chair, my head bowed so low my chin was practically touching the table. Suddenly, a sharp nudge hit my wrist. “Julian,” Chloe hissed. “Mr. Halvorson just called on you.” “Who’s Julian?” The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them. I snapped back to reality, hearing Damian’s smooth, deep voice repeat my name. I sucked in a sharp breath and slowly, shakily, got to my feet. The moment he saw me, genuine shock flashed across his face. A wave of guilt washed over me. Because I’d told him my name was Ian. His eyes held mine for two long, meaningful seconds before he spoke, his voice dangerously calm. “Mr. Vance, this project falls under your team’s purview. Please, bring us up to speed.” 02 I gave the briefest report possible, my voice tight. Damian asked only two sharp, incisive questions. The second the meeting was dismissed, I bolted from the room like my life depended on it. I’m not kidding. In that one-hour meeting, I had already drafted my resignation letter in my head. But then… I thought about the dumpster fire that was the current job market. I thought about my mortgage and my car payments. And I decided I could probably just keep my head down and power through. Chloe returned to her desk in a full-blown swoon. “Oh my God, he’s gorgeous,” she gushed. “Having a view like that almost makes this corporate slavery worth it. I forgive the world for three seconds.” “Get a grip,” I chuckled. She was lost in her fantasy. “Even in that tailored shirt, you can just tell he’s built. The man is pure, uncut testosterone.” Built didn’t even begin to cover it. His body was a masterpiece. And the feel of it… divine. But the thought of the man whose dirty talk could make a sailor blush now being my big boss made me want to flee the planet. Just then, Damian’s executive assistant, Linda, clicked over in her heels. “Julian Vance? Mr. Halvorson would like to see you in his office.” I rose from my chair, feeling like a man walking to his own execution. Could the Earth just explode right now? Please? 03 His office was vast, with a floor-to-ceiling window offering a breathtaking panorama of the city. “Mr. Halvorson, you wanted to see me?” I asked, keeping my voice professionally neutral. Damian finally looked up from his monitor, his eyes raking over me. “Julian Vance?” “Yes, sir.” He arched a single, perfect eyebrow. “Ian?” I played dumb. “I’m sorry, sir. Who’s Ian?” A slow, dangerous smile spread across his lips. He leaned back in his leather chair, looking thoroughly amused. “Don’t play games, Julian. The world isn’t big enough for two men who not only look identical but also have a mole in the exact same spot.” My brain short-circuited. “A mole where?” I asked automatically. A wicked glint in his eyes, Damian leisurely pinched his own earlobe. Shit. The tiny mole on my earlobe. The one this very man, now clad in a thousand-dollar suit, had been kissing just yesterday. My expression hardened into a mask of stone. “Damian Halvorson is my real name, by the way,” he added, his tone dripping with mock sweetness. …He was totally throwing shade at me for using a fake name. There was no way out of this. Giving up, I offered a weak, pathetic laugh. “Mr. Halvorson. What a coincidence, huh?” His smile widened. “So I’m the new boss you were talking about.” He paused, his gaze turning smoky. “If I’d known, I wouldn’t have let you leave yesterday…” I pressed my hands together in a prayer-like gesture of surrender. “Mr. Halvorson, please. At the office, let’s just pretend we don’t know each other. Strictly business, nothing personal.” He nodded, though a flicker of reluctance crossed his face. I practically ran out of his office. 04 Damian and I had a purely physical relationship. To put it bluntly, we were fuck buddies. It started six months ago. The guy I’d been crushing on, a straight friend, got a girlfriend. Heartbroken, I went to a bar to drown my sorrows and ended up sharing a table with Damian. He seemed to be in a foul mood, too. So foul, in fact, that he didn’t notice someone slip something into his drink. I’m a good person, so I helped him out of there. He, however, was not. He got handsy. And honestly, between the alcohol and the sheer magnetic pull of his beauty, my resolve crumbled. One thing led to another, and we were in a hotel room. Looking at that sinfully handsome face, I figured, what the hell, and kissed him back. That first time was clumsy, a fumbling exploration. But we quickly found our rhythm. We didn’t stop until the first pale light of dawn painted the sky. Afterward, we came to a simple agreement: no feelings, just bodies. We’d meet up once a week. Sexually, we were ridiculously compatible. Every time we met, it was like we were trying to break the bed. It was a much-needed release from the daily grind of my corporate life. We knew nothing about each other’s personal lives. I’d assumed he was just like me—a regular guy slaving away during the week, looking for some way to blow off steam on the weekend. I never imagined he was secretly moonlighting as a CEO. And not just any CEO—the CEO of my company! Goddammit. 05 For the first time in my life, I wasn’t looking forward to the weekend. Which, of course, meant the week flew by in a flash. Damian was swamped with work. The only time I saw him outside of a meeting was a brief encounter at the coffee shop in our building lobby. I pretended to take a call, avoiding his gaze entirely. On Friday, during my lunch break, a message from him popped up. [Where to this weekend?] We always varied the location. Hotels, his car, sometimes, when we felt adventurous, somewhere more… remote. I typed out the excuse I’d been rehearsing all week. [Sorry, Mr. Halvorson. I have to go back to my hometown for my mom’s birthday this weekend.] Damian: [Alright.] Damian: [And didn’t we agree to keep things professional? Call me by my name when we’re talking about personal stuff.] Oh, God. There was no way to keep them separate. Not after watching him tear apart the team lead from the adjacent department in a meeting that very morning. “Did you come up with this proposal with your feet?” he’d asked, his voice dangerously low. The temperature in the room had dropped twenty degrees. The team lead could only stand there, seething in silence. When it was my turn to present, I felt like I was walking a tightrope over a canyon of ice. After I finished, Damian’s only comment was, “The plan looks flashy, but have you given any thought to its practical implementation?” Me: “…” Seriously, who could handle that? And now he expected me to sleep with him? I chose celibacy. 06 Another week crawled by. Right on schedule, Damian’s message arrived. [This weekend?] Me: [A friend’s getting married in the next state over. I’m the best man.] Damian: [You don’t have any free time at all?] Was he that desperate? Me: [Nope. It’s a seven or eight-hour drive round trip.] Of course, there was no wedding. I was just a coward. Two weeks of celibacy was starting to take its toll. On Saturday, I resorted to some… personal aids at home. They helped, but not much. Inevitably, my thoughts drifted to Damian. The more I thought, the more wound up I got. To douse the fire, I took a cab to the office to get some work done. Making money makes me happy, I told myself. But the moment I swiped my keycard and the office doors slid open, my soul shattered. The universe was out to get me. Why the hell was Damian Halvorson also working on a Saturday? He emerged from the break room, a cup of coffee in hand, and raised an eyebrow at me. “Next state over? Best man?” I let out a dry, hollow laugh. “The wedding got canceled. Last minute.” Damian actually chuckled, a humorless sound. His expression turned hard. “Julian. You’re avoiding me.” 07 I scrambled to my desk, my mind racing for an escape route. But Damian, as if reading my thoughts, called my internal line. “Come to my office. We need to go over your proposal.” Clutching the file folder like a shield, I knocked on his door. It swung open from the inside, and a powerful arm yanked me in. Damian slammed me against the door, his mouth crashing down on mine in a fierce, demanding kiss. At first, I struggled, pushing against his chest. But then, the familiar heat, the intoxicating taste of him, flooded my senses. My resistance melted. My hands snaked around his neck, pulling him closer as the file folder slipped from my grasp and clattered to the floor. He lifted me effortlessly, carrying me as he kicked open the door to the private lounge inside his office. White shirts and tailored trousers soon lay in a heap on the floor. Damian’s seductive voice whispered from behind me, “I never thought I’d get to unlock the ‘office’ achievement.” … I would never be able to look at his floor-to-ceiling window or his massive desk the same way again. Outside, the city lights began to twinkle. Without realizing it, the day had bled into night. Damn him. I came here to work! When Damian emerged from the shower, his chest was still beaded with water, glistening over the marks I’d left on his skin. “There’s a great new upscale bistro downstairs. My treat.” I picked up my mangled file folder from the floor. “I’m not hungry.” Right on cue, my stomach let out a pathetic, traitorous growl. A low chuckle rumbled from his chest. “Come on. We both worked hard today.” “…” Yeah, “worked.” That’s one way to put it. 08 In the private booth, I ordered enough food to feed a small army. This place was notoriously expensive; Chloe and I only ever came here the day we got paid. Damian barely ate, instead busying himself with placing pieces of grilled lobster onto my plate. “Mr. Halvorson, please, you eat. Don’t worry about me,” I said, my voice tight with anxiety. His hand paused mid-air. “It’s after hours, Julian. You can just call me by my name.” I couldn’t. It felt too weird. Over the past six months, we’d occasionally grabbed food together, but it was always a quick bite between rounds in bed. This—sitting across from each other, having a proper, civilized meal—was a first. It was just… strange. I buried my head in my food, eating furiously to combat the awkwardness. When we finished, a steady rain was falling outside. Damian dangled a set of keys. “I’ll give you a ride home.” I pulled out my phone and opened the rideshare app. “It’s fine, I can get a car.” Great. 100 people in the queue ahead of me. “It’s raining,” Damian said, stating the obvious. “It’ll be impossible to get a ride. Let me drive you.” I ended up in his Bentley. I opened the back door, but he arched an eyebrow. “Am I your chauffeur?” As if I’d dare. I walked around to the driver’s side. “Then let me drive.” Damian laughed, a genuine, warm sound this time. “Get in the passenger seat, Julian.” The entire ride, my mind was racing. Choosing to sleep with Damian was probably the most reckless thing I’d ever done. I’ve always been a person who keeps his work life and personal life in completely separate, sealed-off boxes. Damian knew my body, but he didn’t know me. And because of that anonymity, I could relax with him, be completely uninhibited. But now he was my boss. Could I ever truly be at ease with him again? What if our colleagues found out? I hated uncertainty. Before I got out of the car, I mustered my courage and turned to face him. “Damian. I think we should stop this.” “From now on, no more weekends.” His expression clouded with confusion. “Why? Is it just because I’m your boss?” I couldn’t admit that, not when I still had to work for him. “It’s not that. I just… want to end this kind of arrangement. It’s not a long-term solution, you know?” His face hardened, turning into a thunderous mask. I unbuckled my seatbelt and fled from the car. As I walked away, I couldn’t shake a hollow feeling in my gut. I shook my head, forcing the thought away. It’s just withdrawal. I’m just horny. That’s all.

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I’m the scum-of-the-earth beta in an ABO novel, and my Omega husband, Julian, is the main character destined for a happy ending with someone else. My role is to despise him, to be incapable of helping him through his heats. Julian has to work to support my deadbeat ass, and without a partner’s comfort, he’s supposed to fall into the arms of his Alpha boss, sparking a forbidden, passionate affair. But the script has gone haywire. Instead of cheating, Julian is all over me, constantly seeking my scent like I’m his personal catnip. He seems completely devoted. He’s even trying to trap me with a child. He clings to me, his eyes shimmering with unshed tears, his voice a desperate plea. “Honey, can I have a baby for you? Please? Just look at me… love me a little, please?” I was so freaked out I almost scheduled a vasectomy. Then, he swallowed a pill, forcing himself into a heat. His sweet, intoxicating scent flooded the air, wrapping around me like a silken cage of desire. “Fine,” he whispered, his voice dangerously soft. “Then you can have my baby, darling. I’ll love it just as much as I love you.” 1 The rain outside was coming down in sheets, a relentless drumming against the windows. Then, the tell-tale click of the front door unlocking echoed from the entryway. I knew this was it. The first major plot point, where my husband, Julian, was supposed to start his affair with the main Alpha, Damian Sterling. This is an ABO novel. I died in my world, and when I opened my eyes, I was here, thrust into this story. And I’d been cast as the villain. The scum beta husband. A voice in my head promised me a chance at my old life if I just played my part and followed the script. So, I did. I went on a date with the main character, Julian, and I married him, just like I was supposed to. Shortly after the wedding, my startup spectacularly failed. The blow shattered my confidence, and I retreated into a world of video games, letting Julian work to support us while my temper frayed and my bitterness grew. My own insecurity made me lash out, finding fault in everything he did, despising him for my own failures. I’m a beta. I can’t satisfy an Omega’s needs, especially not during their heat. They say love conquers all, but reality was a chaotic mess of shattered dreams and mounting resentment. And that’s where the real hero, Damian Sterling, was supposed to come in. He was the one meant to rescue the wounded Julian, to finally give him the Alpha’s mark he deserved. Now, it was time for me, the scum husband, to deliver my lines. I slammed my controller down and swaggered out of my room, radiating arrogance. I didn’t even bother to put on slippers. The entire apartment was carpeted in plush, soft material anyway. I reached the entryway just as Julian stepped inside. He froze when he saw me, his expression a mixture of surprise and a flicker of carefully hidden joy. Behind him stood Damian Sterling. He was the picture of an Alpha CEO—tall, impeccably dressed, with an air of quiet power and deep, piercing eyes. The story’s hero, no doubt. Julian’s beautiful eyes lit up. “Honey, you came to greet me?” I lifted my chin, my voice dripping with disdain. “Don’t flatter yourself. Who’s he?” As I sized up Sterling, he was doing the same to me, a glint of surprise in his eyes. I was wearing a black silk pajama set adorned with little cat figures. My body was lean, my skin pale from months spent indoors. I was handsome in a sharp, delicate way, my features conveying nothing but contempt and pride, though a small beauty mark at the corner of my eye hinted at a subtle, almost hidden allure. My bare feet, pale as marble, sank into the cream-colored carpet. Julian’s gaze darkened. He knelt, his touch gentle as he cupped my foot. “You’re cold,” he murmured, his voice laced with concern. “You should wear socks around the house, honey.” He then looked up at his boss. “This is our company’s new director, Damian Sterling. The rain was too heavy, and his car ran out of gas right after he dropped me off. He was hoping to stay the night. Mr. Sterling, this is my husband, Michael.” ‘Ran out of gas.’ Right. What a laughably transparent excuse to get close to Julian. Couldn’t he just call a cab? I pressed my foot down on the back of his hand, my voice sharp. “Stop fussing over me.” Julian simply lowered his gaze, letting me pin his hand to the floor. His fingers curled slightly, brushing against the sole of my foot. A strange tingle shot up my leg, and I quickly pulled back before glaring at Sterling. “He can sleep in your room,” I announced. “But he’s not sleeping on my couch. And I’m hungry.” See? I’m a great wingman. I’m practically pushing them into bed together. Before Julian could respond, Sterling spoke, his voice smooth and deep. “You two sleep in separate rooms?” Julian’s face tightened. I let out a cold laugh, leaning into my role as the world’s worst husband. “I wouldn’t be caught dead sleeping with him! Anyone who wants him can have him. It’s not like we’ve ever even done anything!” You hear that, Sterling? He’s all yours. Pure and untouched. I haven’t laid a finger on him. Sterling raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised by the reality of Julian’s home life. Julian’s face was pale, but he forced a smile as if he hadn’t heard a word. “Honey, you’re hungry, right? I brought home dinner. Your favorite—honey-glazed wings.” I plopped onto the sofa with an air of condescending grace. On the coffee table were containers of my favorite takeout: honey-glazed wings and sweet and sour ribs. Finally, something good. Julian retrieved a pair of white cotton socks from his room and knelt before me, gently sliding them onto my feet. I didn’t have the energy to argue. He was so damn stubborn. If I refused, he’d just get that wounded, teary-eyed look, and I couldn’t handle that right now. From the moment I appeared, Julian had orbited me, soaking up every second of my presence. Even after putting on my socks, he lingered, watching me eat, his eyes filled with a tenderness so profound it was almost suffocating. He watched the way my cheeks puffed out as I chewed, and the adoration in his gaze was overwhelming. 2 Sterling’s gaze was heavy as he watched us. “You two seem very close,” he finally said. “What is it you do for a living, Mr. Michael?” After setting his sights on Julian, Sterling had obviously done his homework. He knew Julian’s husband was a failed entrepreneur, a recluse living off his Omega’s salary. His question was a deliberate jab, meant to twist the knife in my already wounded pride. He was jealous of the affection Julian showered on me. Fine. I’d give him the show he wanted. I masked my shame with bravado. “Hah! As if I’d chain myself to some dead-end desk job for a pathetic salary,” I scoffed. “I just can’t be bothered. Companies are practically begging me to work for them!” Julian’s eyes curved into crescents, shining with admiration. “That’s right! My husband is the most brilliant man I know!” Even when I acted like a complete loser, he looked at me like I was a god. It was as if no matter how far I fell, in his eyes, I would always be perfect. He was my most devoted believer. Sterling’s deep eyes remained fixed on me. “I’m sure,” he said, his voice a low purr. “If a man like you were to step outside, you could probably earn more in a month than most people do in a lifetime.” I was surprised. I hadn’t expected Sterling to flatter me. “Hmph. Like I needed you to tell me that.” Julian frowned slightly at Sterling’s tone and looked up. “Mr. Sterling, you must be tired. Please, feel free to get some rest. Your room is the one on the left. You’ll find a new toothbrush and towels in the bathroom cabinet.” A smirk played on Sterling’s lips, tinged with mockery. “Of course. Thank you for your hospitality.” With that, he headed towards the bathroom. The air between them felt thick with unspoken tension. Sterling was clearly jealous. This was the perfect moment for Julian to go and smooth things over. I put on my meanest face. “God, stop hovering around me! You’re so annoying. Just go away!” A shadow crossed Julian’s face, and he bit his lip. “Okay. I understand.” That look again! I couldn’t stand seeing him so hurt, so I quickly added, “And you have a guest. Don’t you know how to be a good host? People will think we have no manners.” Julian blinked, a look of sudden realization dawning on his face before it melted into a shy, pleased smile. “Right! You’re right, I’ll go check on him.” I had no idea why that made him happy, but he was always strange like that. Heeding my words, Julian walked to the bathroom and knocked softly. I heard his voice, gentle and concerned. “Mr. Sterling? Did you find the towels? Do you need any help?” “I do.” The door opened, and Julian slipped inside. The glass was frosted, but I could make out their silhouettes standing close together. They were murmuring something, their voices too low for me to hear. I imagined the scene from the novel playing out: Sterling: Julian, I need your help, too. Can that useless husband of yours truly satisfy you? He can’t even get you through a heat, can he? Julian, flushed with shame and anger: Stop! Mr. Sterling, please, have some self-respect! As my imagination ran wild, a loud thud echoed from the bathroom, followed by a muffled groan. Were they really going at it that intensely already? My chopsticks nearly clattered to the floor. I quickly ducked my head and shoveled the rest of my food into my mouth before scurrying back to my room. My job was to be the blind, deaf husband. I wouldn’t interrupt them for anything. 3 My room was a shrine to gaming—shelves overflowing with game cartridges and collector’s edition figurines. All I had to do was mention I liked something, and Julian would somehow acquire it for me. I had countless limited-edition items, some of which were now priceless collector’s pieces. I had no idea how he got them. They were probably knockoffs. I played for a while before exhaustion claimed me and I crawled into bed. My dreams were filled with memories of meeting Julian, of the early days of our relationship. Back then, I wasn’t forced to play the part of a cruel husband. I wasn’t so horrible. The first time I saw him, I was genuinely captivated. He was slender and graceful, with skin like porcelain. His smile was like a ray of sunshine on a cold winter day, impossible to look away from. When he shyly introduced himself, my brain short-circuited. “You smell… amazing,” I blurted out. In the world of ABO, saying that to an Omega was practically a proposition. He froze, a delicate pink blush creeping up his neck. I quickly stammered an apology, but thankfully, he didn’t hold it against me. My worldview was fundamentally different from the people here. I believed love shouldn’t be dictated by pheromones. That was no different from being a beast ruled by instinct. Pheromonal compatibility was a form of domestication. Love, true love, was a meeting of souls. Whenever I’d talk about these things, Julian would listen intently, his gaze fixed on my profile, his eyes deep and shining like a starry night. We didn’t have the primal connection of pheromones. We talked for hours, about everything and nothing, dreaming of a future together. Julian was an orphan; he yearned for a family, for a place to belong. He was starved for affection, and a scumbag like me took advantage of that. I remember what he said to me on our wedding day. “I love you because my soul loves you. I want to spend my life with you, and I would give anything for that.” He stood there in a white suit, his smile radiant, his clear eyes fixed on me, overflowing with hope and love. But I froze. A wave of panic washed over me, and an instinct I couldn’t control screamed at me to run. How could I? How could I accept such a pure, profound love when my own heart was built on a foundation of deceit? But then the voice returned, whispering in my ear. [Your only purpose is to bring Julian and Damian Sterling together. That is how Julian will find true happiness. They are fated. If you deviate from the script, you will alter his destiny. Can you bear that consequence?] Alter it? To what? Something worse? No. I couldn’t bear that. 4 I woke up to find my pillow damp. I sat up, rubbing my tired eyes, and heard a soft knock at my door. A glance at the clock showed it was 10:30 PM. I’d been asleep for less than an hour. The door creaked open after two gentle knocks. Julian stood in the doorway, clutching a pillow to his chest. His white pajamas were made of a light, soft fabric that draped elegantly over his frame—the matching set to mine. He bit his lip, his expressive eyes gazing at me, filled with an unspoken torrent of emotion. “Honey,” he whispered, his voice trembling slightly. “Can I… can I sleep on the floor in here?” He looked so vulnerable, so pitiful. My resolve almost crumbled. I turned away, forcing a harsh tone. “No. Go back to your own room.” His response was instantaneous. A single, perfect tear welled up and rolled down his cheek. His long lashes fluttered, framing eyes filled with a silent, heartbreaking sorrow. He said nothing, yet his gaze screamed everything. My defenses shattered. I flopped back onto the bed and pulled the covers over my head. “Fine, fine! Sleep here! I don’t care,” I grumbled, my voice muffled by the blanket. Under the covers, a thought struck me. It felt like he was doing this on purpose, like he knew that his tears were my kryptonite. Julian settled onto the carpet beside my bed. “Goodnight,” he said softly. I didn’t need to look to know his eyes were fixed on me, brimming with that infuriating, all-consuming love. Having already slept a little, I was now wide awake. I lay there for a good twenty minutes before sleep finally began to pull at me again. Just as I was drifting off, I heard a rustling sound from the floor, followed by a faint, breathy gasp. He seemed to be sitting up. Then, my blanket shifted. A hand was sliding under the covers. My eyes flew open. I whipped my head around to find him staring at me, his face flushed with a feverish blush. His gaze was raw, direct, and filled with a desperate, naked craving. His full lips were parted, releasing shallow, ragged pants that smelled faintly of orchids. “Honey,” he breathed, his voice tight with restraint. “I feel… awful. Can you… can you help me, please?” He grabbed my wrist, his grip surprisingly strong. One look at him and I knew exactly what was happening. His heat. Of course. This was why the original script had him sleeping with Sterling tonight. This was the moment Sterling was meant to mark him. Julian had been on suppressants for so long, without a partner to soothe him, that his heats were short but unpredictable. He never knew when one would strike, so he always carried an emergency dose. “Your suppressants!” I hissed, frantically patting his pockets. “Where are they?” His body trembled at my touch. He caught my searching hand, guiding it slowly, deliberately downward. The heat radiating from him was intense. A jolt of electricity shot through me. His lashes fluttered, his eyes clouded with a drowsy, possessive affection. It was a purely innocent form of seduction. “I don’t want suppressants,” he whispered. “I only want you.” I froze for a second before yanking my hand back as if I’d been burned. “I’ll get them for you.” I scrambled off the bed, but before I could take a step, his arms wrapped around me from behind. A hot tear splashed onto the nape of my neck. His plea was a broken, choked sob. “Honey, can I have a baby for you? Please? Look at me, just… love me a little? Please, love me… I’m begging you…” His voice was a fragile thread of raw desperation, so utterly humbled it broke my heart. He was willing to use a child to win back his husband’s love. The heat of his tears scalded my skin. Gritting my teeth, I pushed him away. “Julian, don’t you get it yet?” I said, my voice cold and cruel. “I don’t love you anymore. Nothing you do will ever change that.” I clenched my fists, forcing the words out, my mind already made up. I’d schedule the vasectomy tomorrow. I had to protect the story, to protect his happy ending, even if it meant destroying him—and myself—in the process. Julian’s eyelashes trembled. The light in his eyes flickered and died, leaving them empty. Tears streamed down his pale, shattered face. His fingers twitched, reaching for me for a brief, hopeful moment before retreating in fear.

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In the third year of our marriage, Scott Crosby still despised me. He made it his mission to oppose me in everything. He snatched a necklace I adored, only to put it on the puppy his little canary was raising. He bulldozed my house to build a private amusement park for her. He set my paintings ablaze, all to coax a smile from her. I endured it all, piece by piece, injustice by injustice. Until the day his canary framed me for pushing her into the water. To avenge her, Scott had his men throw me into the ocean. In the moment I was about to drown, I suddenly realized I didn’t want to love him anymore. 1 Scott had once again taken a piece of jewelry I loved. That same evening, the necklace appeared on the collar of Isla’s little dog. Isla’s social media post was pointed: “Some women would kill for a life this good. Too bad they’re not even on a dog’s level.” It was a clear jab at me. Furious, I commented back: “Who can compete with you? At least I don’t spend my life just clucking for attention.” Less than two minutes later, my phone rang. It was Scott. His voice was like ice. “Maggie, apologize to Isla.” A firestorm of anger brewed inside me. “No,” I refused. On the other end of the line, I heard Isla’s pathetic, whimpering sobs. “I just thought Beans looked so cute with the necklace on, so I posted a picture to remember it. I don’t know how I upset Maggie again… Scott, it’s okay if she doesn’t want to apologize. Please don’t be mad at her. It’s not the first time she’s been mean to me. I’m used to it. I’ll get over it.” His precious darling was in tears, and Scott’s heart was breaking for her. His voice turned sharp, delivering his final ultimatum to me: “If you don’t apologize to Isla today, you’ll face the consequences.” He was always like this. Even when Isla was the one who provoked me, he would side with her without a moment’s hesitation. A bitter taste filled my mouth, but I refused to show any weakness. “I won’t apologize,” I said, my voice stubborn. “She deserved it.” Before Scott could retaliate, I hung up the phone. But the suffocating feeling in my chest wouldn’t go away. 2 The “consequences” Scott threatened came swiftly. The next day, he sent a bulldozer to flatten my 3,000-square-foot cottage in the countryside. Then, he set fire to all the paintings I had stored there. By the time I rushed to the scene, the flames had just been extinguished. Three hundred canvases were reduced to ash. Staring at the wreckage, I felt like I’d been struck by lightning. I turned to Scott, my eyes wide with disbelief. “What gives you the right to do this?” I had been working on those paintings since high school. Eight years of my soul, my passion, gone up in smoke because of him. A cold smirk played on Scott’s lips. His words cut deeper than any knife. “If I’m not mistaken, all of those paintings were of me. It’s sick, Maggie. Not only do you stalk me, you secretly paint me. I didn’t want to see that disgusting trash anymore, so I burned it. Is there a problem?” He hated me so much that he couldn’t even stand the thought of me painting him in secret. A dull ache throbbed in my heart. I fought back tears, clenching my jaw as I demanded, “Fine. Burn the paintings if you want. But on what grounds did you destroy the house my grandmother left me?” This cottage had been my grandmother’s home. My parents were always busy with their business when I was a child, so I grew up with her. After she passed away, whenever I missed her, I would come here to stay for a few days. Scott knew all of this. Yet now, he had so casually destroyed the only tangible memory I had of her, without a shred of remorse. He stood there, one hand in his pocket, a picture of nonchalant cruelty. His tone was breezy. “I’m planning on building a small theme park for Isla to enjoy. This spot, nestled in the hills by the water, is just perfect.” He paused, a derisive laugh in his voice. “You made Isla cry first. I just had to find a way to cheer her up. So, really, you brought this on yourself.” He was even throwing the insult I’d flung at Isla right back in my face. I trembled with rage, grabbing my purse and swinging it at him. “Scott, you bastard!” In a flash, Isla darted out from the side, positioning herself in front of him. “Don’t you dare hit Scott!” The metal charm on my purse scraped against her left cheek. Isla let out a sharp cry, then burst into tears. “Scott, my face hurts so much! Am I going to be scarred forever?” Seeing the blood on her cheek, a flicker of panic went through me. Scott’s face changed instantly. He shoved me aside, his voice laced with worry as he examined Isla’s cut. The push was so forceful that I stumbled and fell, my arm scraping against the sharp gravel, sending a jolt of pain through me. Scott didn’t even notice. He swept Isla into his arms and rushed away. After a few steps, he didn’t forget to turn back and throw a warning over his shoulder: “If anything happens to Isla’s face, you’ll answer to me!” 3 My arm hurt. My heart hurt more. I went to the clinic alone to get my cuts bandaged and pick up some antiseptic. On my way out, I passed a private room and happened to see Isla sitting on the bed, her eyes red-rimmed. Scott was gently wiping a tear from the corner of her eye, his voice soft and comforting. “Don’t cry. The doctor said a scratch like this won’t leave a scar. I promise I’ll teach Maggie a lesson for this. I’ll make it up to you.” I stood frozen outside the door, watching the tenderness he showed her. Suddenly, I remembered being sixteen. A group of thugs had cornered me, and Scott had been there. He had wiped away my tears just like that, whispering gently, “Don’t cry. I’ll take care of them.” Then he beat them until they were on their knees, begging for mercy. Now, all he had for me was contempt. Isla sniffled, then asked tentatively, “But Maggie is your wife, the one you married in front of everyone. Are you really willing to be that harsh with her?” A sardonic laugh escaped Scott’s lips. His tone was dripping with disdain. “That marriage? She schemed her way into it. I never wanted to marry her. I don’t love her. So what is there to lose?” Isla’s tears turned to a triumphant smile. She hugged him, cooing, “I knew you were the best to me.” Her eyes met mine through the crack in the door. She raised an eyebrow in victory and mouthed the words silently: You lose again. Normally, I would have thrown the door open and slapped her. But in that moment, I felt every ounce of fight drain out of me. She was right. Scott didn’t love me. What was the point of fighting with Isla? Even if I won the argument, won the fight, I had still lost the war. I lowered my gaze and dragged my heavy legs away. 4 It wasn’t always like this. Scott and I used to be close. I started following him around in middle school like a lost puppy. When I finally confessed my feelings, he turned me down, but he didn’t push me away. He’d told me, “Maggie, you’ll always be my little sister. I’ll always protect you.” That all changed when I was twenty-one. We were at a bar, we were both drugged, and we ended up in bed together. At the time, Scott had just broken up with his ex-girlfriend three days prior. The tabloids had a field day, spinning a story that I was the other woman, that I had broken them up. I was branded a homewrecker. The scandal was huge. Every time I left the house, people would point and whisper. I ended up hiding at home, burying my head in the sand. I had no idea that my parents had gone behind my back to the Crosby family, accusing Scott of ruining my reputation and demanding he take responsibility. I only found out after our families had already arranged the marriage. I knew Scott didn’t love me, and I didn’t want to force him. I told him, “You don’t have to listen to my parents. What happened that night was an accident. It wasn’t your fault. I know you don’t want to marry me. Once this all blows over, I’ll convince my parents to call it off.” But his response shocked me. “I was with you. Of course, I have to take responsibility. I’m marrying you because I want to. Nobody is forcing me, so you don’t need to feel guilty.” I was so overjoyed I could have jumped for joy. But that happiness was short-lived. On our wedding night, Scott’s demeanor flipped. He looked at me with pure disgust. “Maggie, there is nothing I hate more in this world than being lied to. To marry me, you drugged me, you called the paparazzi, and after the story blew up, you had your parents come and make a scene, forcing my hand. You are truly disgusting. I will never touch you. You can spend the rest of your life as Mrs. Crosby in name only.” I stood there, stunned, completely baffled as to how I had become the villain in this story. I tried to explain, over and over again, that I wasn’t the one who drugged him, but he never believed me. I tried to be good to him, to mend our broken relationship, but he never gave me a chance. The meals I cooked, he threw in the trash. The scarf I knitted, he used as a cleaning rag. The messages I sent, he never answered. And then, Isla appeared. Slowly, I began to accept reality. I stopped dreaming of a future with him. I stopped being a doormat. If Isla came after me, I fought back. If Scott wouldn’t let me be happy, then nobody was going to be happy. And so we fought, day after day, until today. And today, I was suddenly so tired. Too tired to keep fighting with him anymore. 5 About two weeks passed. My mother called me in a panic, telling me my father was in the hospital. The reason? Scott had gone on a rampage, poaching several major contracts from my family’s company. The stress had caused my father to collapse. My mother’s voice was pleading. “Maggie, did you make Scott angry again? How many times have I told you? Don’t antagonize him. You need to be sweeter to him. Why don’t you ever listen? Our family’s business hasn’t been doing well, we rely on the Crosbys. Your father’s blood pressure is dangerously high. If you don’t want to be the death of him, you need to go and apologize to Scott right now and beg him to back off!” I never imagined that Scott would go this far just to appease Isla. He must truly be madly in love with her. A tightness gripped my chest, and I felt like I couldn’t breathe. I didn’t want to give in, but seeing the image of my father, pale and unconscious in a hospital bed, I couldn’t bring myself to refuse. I had no choice but to compromise. Scott hadn’t been home in weeks, and he wasn’t answering my calls. I found out he was hosting a party for Isla on a yacht and drove down to the marina. The yacht was buzzing with activity, filled mostly with Isla’s friends. I managed to get out an apology, but they weren’t satisfied. “An apology is just words. If you really mean it, you should at least get on your knees and bow to Isla.” Saying “sorry” was already tearing me apart. Kneeling? In their dreams. My patience was wearing thin. I shot them a cold glare. They immediately seized the opportunity. “Mr. Crosby, you see? Her apology isn’t sincere at all! If you don’t put her in her place today, what’s to stop her from bullying Isla again?” A cruel, amused smile played on Scott’s lips. “Kneeling won’t be necessary. Just finish these three bottles of wine, and we’ll call it even.” This punishment was no easier than kneeling. I couldn’t drink. A single glass was enough to make me violently ill. Scott knew this, and he was forcing me anyway. Perhaps seeing me end up in the hospital was the only thing that would satisfy him. I pressed my lips together, forcing back the tears. My voice trembled as I asked, “If I drink this, you’ll stop targeting my family’s company, right?” He raised an eyebrow. “Of course.” “Fine.” With the resolve of a condemned woman, I grabbed a bottle, closed my eyes, and started chugging. One bottle down, and my stomach was already churning violently. I felt so sick I almost threw up on the spot. As I gagged, Isla wrinkled her nose and said with feigned concern, “Scott, maybe we should just let it go. Seeing Maggie like this… it breaks my heart.” Scott stroked her hair dotingly. “You’re just too kind. That’s why people always take advantage of you.” He turned to me, his expression once again glacial. “Since Isla is willing to forgive you, we’ll let it go.” My stomach was in agony. I didn’t have the energy to say another word. I put the bottle down and turned to leave. “Stop,” Scott called out. “You haven’t thanked Isla yet.” I was the one who was hurt, the one whose dignity was trampled, and I was expected to thank her. It was laughable. Forcing down the pain churning in my chest, I said through gritted teeth, “Thank you, Miss Isla, for your generosity.” Isla was beaming. “You’re welcome. As long as you don’t bully me anymore.” 6 In the restroom, I heaved until there was nothing left but bitter bile. I wiped the tears from my cheeks with a paper towel and waited for the world to stop spinning before I stumbled out of the cabin. On the deck, Isla blocked my path again. It seemed she wasn’t done with me yet. But I had no strength left to fight. “What do you want now?” I asked, my voice weary. “I’m already this miserable. Aren’t you satisfied?” Her face was alight with smug victory. “Of course, I want you two to get a divorce. The more you hurt me, the more Scott despises you. I have no intention of being the other woman forever. So, Maggie, why don’t you just do me a favor and set him free?” As she finished speaking, she grabbed my hand, yanking it forward to create the illusion that I was pushing her. At the same time, she threw her entire body backward. “Scott, help me!” With a loud splash, she plunged into the dark water, her screams echoing across the deck. “Help! Help me!” We were in a blind spot. There were no witnesses. Without a doubt, I had been framed again. Moments later, Scott came running from the other end of the yacht, drawn by the commotion. By the time he pulled Isla from the sea, she was unconscious. Or, more likely, pretending to be. But Scott believed her. The look he gave me was murderous, as if he wanted to burn holes through me with his eyes. He lunged at me, his hand closing around my throat. “How could you be so venomous? I could kill you right now!” Of course, in a civilized society, he wouldn’t actually kill me. But when he finally let go, he threw me away with all his strength. I stumbled backward, my ankle twisted, and I crashed to the deck. I knew it was pointless to argue, but I couldn’t let myself be framed for this. I looked up at him, my voice shaking. “I didn’t do it. Isla threw herself into the water to frame me.” Scott loomed over me, his face a mask of fury. “Isla can’t swim! Why would she risk her own life just to play a prank?” he snarled. “Maggie, you do these terrible things and then you don’t even have the guts to admit it. You’re a coward.” See? Nothing I said mattered. A sharp pain lanced through my heart. A broken, bitter laugh escaped my lips as tears streamed down my face. Through my blurred vision, I watched him carry Isla away. I sat there on the deck, a pathetic, helpless mess. After a long while, I pushed myself up and limped toward the gangway. Just as I was about to step off the yacht, a force slammed into my back. The next thing I knew, I was plunging into the cold, dark sea. From the deck above, I could hear Isla’s friends laughing. “Scott told us before he left with Isla! Whatever you did to her, we were to do to you!” Unfortunately, I couldn’t swim either. I didn’t want to die. I thrashed wildly, but my body kept sinking. In the moment before I blacked out from lack of oxygen, a memory flashed through my mind. I was eighteen, and I had accidentally fallen into a swimming pool. Scott had dove in without a second thought, pulling me to safety. He had held me, scolding me between ragged breaths, “If I hadn’t been here, you could have died! Stay away from the water from now on!” The person who had once saved my life now wanted me dead. How ironic life was. Suddenly, I was filled with regret. Regret for ever loving Scott Crosby. I wished I had never met him.

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My brother told me to play innocent, to be the good boy, and seduce his business rival into falling for me. I glanced at the photo of George Chase: fiery red hair, a slim waist, a killer ass, and a wild, rebellious smirk. He was the very picture of a rich playboy who treated life like a game—fickle, demanding, and utterly impossible. But more importantly… My face went pale. “Adrian,” I said, my voice dead, “I’m straight…” Later. George was lying back, a cigarette dangling from his fingers, glaring at me. His pale, perfect thighs were covered in swollen, red bite marks. He kicked a leg out, his breath catching. “So this is what you call being ‘straight’?” “The only thing straight about you is how you can’t look away from me.” 1 On my third night back in the country, my own brother asked me to seduce a man. Dim light spilled over the corner booth of the club, a hazy, intoxicating glow. Adrian’s words from that morning echoed in my mind. “Remember, George Chase likes them innocent.” “You just got back from studying abroad. You’re exactly his type.” I was speechless with rage. “Adrian, is this the brilliant business strategy you stayed up all night cooking up?” I didn’t even know what this George guy looked like, and just because my brother was desperate to win some project, I was being sent to honey-trap his rival? A male rival, at that. The color drained from my face as I tried to refuse. “But… I’m straight.” “You owe me, Ethan.” Adrian slid a photograph across the table. “If I hadn’t protected you from the rest of the family back then, you wouldn’t have survived.” “For a spoiled heir like George Chase, relationships are just a game.” “I need you to break his heart. Wreck him so completely he can’t recover.” I stared at the man in the photo. Slim waist, killer ass, a handsome face framed by a defiant shock of red hair. He was grinning at the camera, a look of pure, untamed arrogance in his eyes. A bad man. The kind that was nothing but trouble. “Can you do it?” Adrian asked. My lips pressed into a thin line. I said nothing. 2 The truth was, I didn’t think I could. I didn’t even have to dig for dirt on George Chase; a quick search was all it took. 【HEIR TO CHASE CORP. SEEN WITH NEW MALE COMPANION AT GALA】 【TEN-DAY FLING ENDS, GEORGE CHASE REPORTEDLY SINGLE AGAIN】 【A COMPREHENSIVE LIST OF GEORGE CHASE’S EXES AND THEIR COMMON TRAITS】 It was all just tabloid trash. George Chase, the sole heir to the immense Chase family fortune, couldn’t care less about the family business. He spent his days indulging in every whim, a trail of broken hearts in his wake. His partners came and went like seasons. The only real thing he’d ever done was open a high-end club, a place where he and his fellow trust-fund brats could drink their lives away. It was only recently that his father, fed up with his antics, had tossed him a minor project bid to manage. As I lost myself in thought, a flash of crimson appeared at the bar, right in the spotlight. He was perched lazily on a high stool, his long legs crossed casually, a tailored suit clinging to the sharp lines of his body. I swirled the ice in my glass and stood up. 3 “The usual. Negroni,” George said, his voice a low, lazy drawl as he leaned against the bar. I slipped past the tips of his fiery hair and took the seat next to him. “I’ll have the same,” I told the bartender. “First time here? Don’t think I’ve seen you around,” George said, turning to give me a once-over, one eyebrow arching in playful curiosity. His gaze was intense, but as our eyes met, a strange calm settled over me. Adrian was right. George was interested. “Yeah, I just got back to the city,” I said, pitching my voice a little lower, a little softer, trying to sound younger than I was. “A friend recommended this place. Said the vibe was great.” A knowing smirk touched George’s lips. “Exchange student?” “Architecture major,” I said. “Took a year off to come back and deal with some family stuff.” A half-truth is always the easiest lie to sell. If everyone in this world wore a mask, why couldn’t I? “I get it.” George suddenly held out a hand, his smile pure mischief. “George Chase. I own this joint, ‘Nyx.’ Heard of me?” I shook my head, my fingers lightly brushing his. “Ethan. Should I have?” “Heh… Don’t look me up just yet.” The heat from his palm lingered on my skin for a second before he pulled away. “Trust your gut. First impressions are more fun that way, don’t you think?” I nodded, my eyes on him, but my mind was already made up. My first impression was set in stone. A hopeless, decadent playboy. The bartender slid two glasses toward us. Clink. George tapped his glass against mine. “A good boy like you should stay out of clubs, you know. You’ll get eaten alive.” As he said it, he casually unbuttoned his perfectly tailored suit jacket. He wore no tie, revealing the sharp, clean lines of his collarbones. The corners of his eyes tilted up in a devil-may-care smile. I had to admit, he was even more captivating in person than in the photograph. I shook my head, my voice warm. “With Mr. Chase watching over things, I’m sure I’ll be fine.” George’s eyes narrowed. “Just George is fine.” I took a sip of my drink, my voice soft. “George.” His wrist twitched. I heard him mutter a quiet “Fuck” under his breath. When he looked up again, the tips of his ears were faintly pink, though his smile was as cocky as ever. “You just get back? Where are you staying?” “A condo on the waterfront for now,” I said. “It’s a little empty, though. Doesn’t feel much like a home.” He grinned. “What a coincidence. I have a place over there. If you ever get bored, you know who to call.” Before I could answer, he turned to the bartender. “Get this gentleman… an ‘First Encounter.’” He turned back to me. “My treat. It’s not too strong. A toast to our fateful meeting.” The scent of cedarwood from his cologne mingled with the rich aroma of alcohol, making my head spin. His face was a perfect, roguish masterpiece, his thin lips a deep red, and his eyes… they looked at everyone like they were the only person in the world. He waited patiently for my answer. “No, thank you, George.” I shook my head gently and stood up. “I’ve had enough for one night. I don’t want to get drunk.” George raised an eyebrow, his fingertips catching the sleeve of my coat. “Then at least give me your number.” I turned my back to him, gently pulling my sleeve free. “Let’s leave the first impression to tonight. And wait for the fate that brings us a ‘Reunion.’” Behind me, I heard him curse softly again, followed by the sound of him downing his drink. But I didn’t look back. 4 I saw George again a few days later. “The Spire restaurant. Window table, top-tier view of the fountain show.” The message from my brother glowed on my screen. I checked the time—7:57 PM. George should be here any minute. Adrian had told me someone had spotted George with a new boy toy, and they were supposed to be having dinner here tonight. He urged me to make my move before someone else beat me to it. It was as if he was foolishly betting everything on me. Just then, a languid, magnetic figure appeared at the entrance. George had his arm around a slender young man, guiding him toward the main dining area. He was wearing a black silk shirt, the top buttons undone, accentuating his long, lean frame. He looked like he’d walked straight out of a magazine. The boy with him had brown hair and was clinging to his arm possessively. He was the innocent, clean-cut type, but he paled in comparison to George. “I picked this spot specifically,” George was saying, his tone nonchalant. “From here, you can see—” His voice trailed off. The boy asked, “See what, Mr. Chase?” I pretended to look up, my gaze locking with the fiery, amused eyes of the man with the red hair. George dropped his arm from the boy’s shoulders and strode over to my table, a slow grin spreading across his face. “Well, well. Look who it is.” “Here by yourself?” he asked me. “I…” Before I could finish, the boy hurried over, interrupting me. His eyes raked over me with suspicion before he turned back to George, his voice a whiny coo. “George, darling, the fountain show is about to start. Shouldn’t we go…?” George’s gaze lingered on the boy’s face for a few seconds before he suddenly grabbed his wrist. “You can go home,” he said, his eyebrow arched. “But we just got here—” “Do I need to repeat myself?” George’s voice was still light, but an unmistakable chill ran through it as he let go. The boy’s face fell. He smoothed his sleeve and stalked off, fuming. Too eager, I thought. Too obvious. Did he really think George was just some rich idiot? “Mind if I join you?” Without waiting for an answer, George pulled out the chair opposite me and sat down. 5 “Not at all,” I said quietly, lowering my gaze. “What a coincidence, Mr. Chase.” He smirked. “So you found out.” “It’s only natural to be curious about the owner of Nyx,” I said. “I just didn’t expect you to be the Chase…” My voice trailed off as a waiter respectfully placed several dishes on our table. George raised an eyebrow, about to stand. “Oh? Looks like I’m interrupting.” “George, stay,” I said, my voice warm, stopping him. I gave him a small, wry smile. “My friend had to cancel last minute. I ordered for two… I can’t possibly finish all this.” “Heh.” George looked down at me, a low chuckle escaping his lips as he settled back into his seat. “You do that on purpose?” “An unfortunate coincidence,” I said peacefully. His wine glass tapped against mine. “To fortunate reunions born from coincidence.” Coincidence was a sly and gentle liar. George asked me nonchalantly, “So, now that you know who I really am, how’s that first impression holding up? Shattered to pieces yet, good boy?” The red tips of his hair seemed to dance in the light. He looked wild and untamed, utterly unconcerned with my answer. I pushed a plate and a sauce dish closer to him. “A little,” I answered honestly. George looked up, his eyes fixed on me. “But first impressions tend to stick,” I said, meeting his gaze directly. “The same goes for you, doesn’t it?” The primacy effect. The first image you form of a person dominates your mind, coloring all future judgments. “…Hah.” George was the first to break eye contact, a soft laugh escaping him. The rest of the meal was slow and surprisingly comfortable. George would occasionally ask about my time abroad, and in turn, told me about his own travels. Listening to him speak, he sounded less like a reckless playboy and more like a worldly, sophisticated gentleman. He elegantly cut a small piece of foie gras and held it to my lips. “Try this.” It was an intimate, slightly transgressive act. A test. I hesitated for a second before leaning forward, my lips closing around the tines of the fork. The rich flavor melted on my tongue. “Good?” George’s eyes darkened, his smile turning wicked. “You seem a little tense.” I nodded, my fingers brushing against the back of his hand. Swoosh. He grabbed my wrist, his skin searing hot against mine. He looked down at me, his gaze intense. “You know my preferences, right? And I’m single at the moment.” I met his eyes and offered a soft, gentle smile. My voice was calm and steady. “George. Let go.” He raised an eyebrow, the smirk on his face deepening. After a silent moment, he released my wrist. “Fuck… are you training me like a dog?” I rubbed my wrist, shaking my head. “Not at all. I just want us to be equals, George.” “So, Ethan…” he asked, his voice low, “do you want to… be my boyfriend?” His eyes, full of charm and mischief, were locked on me. Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, the fountain erupted in a brilliant display of light and water, a kaleidoscope of colors against the night sky. It was the perfect moment to accept a confession. It felt like if I just said yes, I could easily become the latest in George Chase’s long line of lovers. And then, in a month or two, he’d get bored and toss me aside. Adrian would get his project, and George would probably never hold it against me. But none of them had ever treated me like a person. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I’m not into men.” For the first time, a flicker of something—surprise, confusion, a loss of control—crossed George’s face. His fingers tapped against the table before his shoulders started to shake with silent laughter. “Ethan, just give me a chance, okay?” “I’ll make you like me.” “…” He slid his phone across the table. “Give me your number. So we can at least keep in touch.” The night was dark by the time I left the restaurant. George offered to drive me home, but I politely declined. As I walked along the river, the cool night wind brushed against my face. My phone buzzed. A text from an unknown number: 【Thanks for dinner tonight. My treat tomorrow. You free?】 【You look good in a turtleneck, by the way. Don’t overthink it. It’s just a compliment.】 6 George was true to his word. He began to “pursue” me. Over the next few weeks, his efforts were relentless, almost overwhelming. It was clear he had never tried to court someone with patience before. He’d never encountered a problem that money couldn’t solve. Bouquets of flowers delivered to my door daily, designer shoes, luxury items that cost more than my living expenses for years—they all arrived as if being delivered wholesale. He often invited me back to The Spire, the restaurant where we’d had our second encounter. Even though I never gave him a clear answer, he didn’t give up. It seemed the notorious playboy, the subject of endless gossip columns, had genuinely changed his ways for me. Adrian was pleased. He was delighted to see George completely focused on me, paying no attention to the upcoming project bid. But what about me? …I didn’t know what I felt. I didn’t know if this connection with George was a product of my own deceit or if it was something we both genuinely needed. “What are you thinking about?” A familiar voice, laced with a faint smile, came from behind me. I was standing at the entrance to the art museum, ticket in hand. I turned. George was wearing a dark gray turtleneck under a long black trench coat. He looked tall and striking, like a model from a fashion magazine. Unlike his usual styled look, his reddish-blond hair was unkempt, falling softly around his face. It softened his sharp edges, giving him a gentler look. “Nothing,” I said as he approached. “Just wondering if you’d be late.” “To see you? I’d be an hour early,” George said with a wink. “Come on, it’s not too crowded today. We can take our time.” I took a couple of steps, then turned back when I realized he wasn’t following. He was holding out his pale, elegant hand, a roguish grin on his face. “Humor me, will you? Let me hold your hand. Please?” 7 The inside of the museum was spacious, autumn sunlight streaming through the glass dome of the ceiling, casting a golden glow on the paintings. George seemed to know the place well, leading me confidently through the various galleries, occasionally leaning in to whisper the history of a piece in my ear. “Do you come here often, George?” I asked. His thumb drew slow circles in my palm. “My mother used to bring me here when I was a kid. She was a painter. This was her favorite place.” He paused, and for a fleeting moment, I saw a shadow of sadness in his eyes. “After she passed away, this became the only place where I could still feel close to her. She never picked up a paintbrush again after I was born. I was the reason she gave up her art.” The sudden confession left me stunned. I knew this was the perfect opening, the perfect way to get closer to him, to touch his heart. But I couldn’t bring myself to be so shameless, to turn this moment of genuine pain into another move in my deceptive game. “I’m sorry,” I said softly. George just shook his head, pulling me forward. “Come on. I want to show you my favorite painting.” The heat from his hand was a constant presence. For all his wild, reckless energy, his hands were soft and delicate, like warm silk against mine. He led me across the gallery to a massive oil painting. The canvas was a sea of profound darkness, but in the very center, a single, faint beam of light pierced through the clouds, illuminating a small patch of a lake below. The entire piece was filled with a strange, haunting mix of loneliness and hope. “Forget what I think,” George said with a smile. “Do you like it?” “I do.” “I like this kind of darkness,” I said. “It’s dark enough to offer an escape, a place to be free. But that single ray of light shows you there’s still a path forward, a reason for hope.” It was what I had always been searching for myself. “That’s ironic,” George said, his shoulders shaking with a quiet laugh. “This is my favorite painting, but I hate the dark.” “Something happened when I was young,” he said, his voice barely a whisper. “Ever since then, the night has been nothing but darkness for me. No light at all.” “Let’s go, Ethan. There are better things to see up ahead.” 8 For the rest of the tour, George was clearly distracted. He no longer leaned in to whisper in my ear. He moved mechanically through the crowds, his responses to me brief and distant. In all the research Adrian had given me, in all my time with him, I had never seen this side of George. All the arrogance and confidence were gone, replaced by a raw, helpless vulnerability. Remember, he’s still a bad man, I told myself, repeating the words like a mantra. Outside, under the shade of an old oak tree, I helped him to a bench. “George, are you okay?” He looked up at me, forcing a cocky smile. “What, worried about me?” “Yes.” He was sitting, I was standing. For once, I was the one looking down. I could see the flicker of surprise in his eyes, a stark vulnerability he couldn’t hide from this angle. “Heh.” He let out a dry laugh and looked away. “What a mess… I’m completely screwed when it comes to you, aren’t I?” “Ethan, sometimes I really envy you.” “Envy me for what?” “Your purity,” George said, his gaze returning to mine, his eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “There’s this… this clean, untouched quality about you I can’t describe.” “I live in a world where no one tells the truth. Everyone who gets close to me wants something, and I always know what it is. They’d never say no to me, they’d do anything to cling to me… but even when they were pressed right up against me, they could never hear what I was really thinking.” “But you’re different, Ethan. You’re like that beam of light in the painting.” George’s eyes roamed my face. The evening breeze rustled his hair, making him look younger, more fragile than usual. The corners of his upturned eyes were tinged with red. “…” Fuck. What was so pure about me? How was I any different? A wave of frustration washed over me. I turned away, needing to escape his gaze. Swoosh. He grabbed my sleeve again. He looked up at me, his reddish-gold hair clinging to his damp cheeks, his usually arrogant eyes now filled with a broken, watery plea. “Will you kiss me? Please.” … I grabbed the collar of his shirt, tangled my fingers in his hair, and bit down hard on his lip. 9 The kiss was nothing like I had imagined. It was fierce, almost violent. I was practically holding him by the collar, my teeth breaking the skin of his lip. The metallic taste of blood filled my mouth, silencing everything that needed to be said. “Ngh…” George let out a muffled groan, stunned by my aggression. But after a moment’s hesitation, he wrapped his arms around my neck, closing his eyes and deepening the kiss. His long, pale neck arched back as he pressed his body against mine. But a surge of anger made me dig my fingers into his lean waist, hard. “Mmph…!” He flinched, a shiver running through him. I didn’t know what I was so angry about. Was it his weakness, the way he used his vulnerability to corner me? Or was it my own disgusting hypocrisy, pretending this was real? His eyes, already glistening with tears, grew hazy. Just as he tried to pull me closer, I pulled away. “Haah…” George gasped for air, his chest heaving. He looked up at me, his eyes wide. “Be with me, Ethan.” “I know I’ve been a bastard in the past, but I’m serious this time.” “Say whatever you want to me, do whatever you want. I love you.” I stood over him, saying nothing. Sensing my hesitation, George looked down, lighting a cigarette and holding it between his fingers, forcing a casual tone. “If you don’t believe me, forget it. Just… go home.” “I…” I opened my mouth, but my throat was painfully dry. “We’ll see how you act,” I finally said. “If you go back to being a useless playboy, then it’s over.” That wasn’t what I had planned to say. I was supposed to agree. George stared at me for a second, then broke into a low laugh. It was a deep, rumbling sound from his chest, filled with surprised delight. “Ethan,” he said, stepping closer, his fingers brushing against my earlobe. “Then you just watch me.” The glowing tip of his cigarette hovered near my chest. George’s eyes darkened, a smirk playing on his lips. “I’ll make it impossible for you to say no.”

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1 My sister, Elara, who had always been the epitome of cool composure, was acting like a completely different person lately. She forbade me from even talking to boys, her possessiveness was off the charts, and she’d even… introduced me to certain adult toys. I was completely baffled. It wasn’t until I overheard a heated argument between her and a friend that the terrifying truth finally clicked into place. The person she was in love with… was me. Her own sister. This had to be wrong. … I woke up with a splitting headache, the ghost of last night’s party still pounding against my skull. Stumbling out of bed, I shuffled to the living room. Elara was already there, eating breakfast. She glanced up, her expression softening. “Feeling rough? Here, drink this. It’ll help.” Gulping down the hangover cure in a daze, it suddenly hit me how strange this was. Elara hadn’t yelled at me. “I’m sorry,” I mumbled, pre-emptively. “I shouldn’t have been drinking. It won’t happen again.” “It’s fine,” she said, a cryptic smile playing on her lips. “You can drink more often from now on.” I didn’t get it, but as long as she wasn’t mad, I was relieved. I picked up my fork and stabbed at a fried egg. “Yeah, I guess I needed the liquid courage,” I mused aloud. “It’s the only way I’d ever have dared to kiss him.” Elara’s hand froze mid-air. “You… you wanted to kiss your crush?” I was too lost in my happy memories to notice the shift in her tone. “James! You know, the heartthrob of the art department. I can’t believe I actually got him to come to my birthday party.” I sighed dreamily. “His face was so soft… and his lips… I just want to do it again.” “Stella.” Elara set down her fork and turned to face me fully, her eyes sharp and cold. She was older than me, smarter, more experienced. Her gaze always had a way of making me feel small and clumsy. “What is it?” “You can’t.” “Huh?” I was completely lost. “Well, that’s up to him, isn’t it? It’s not like he’s my boyfriend yet.” The word “boyfriend” seemed to trigger something in her. She shot up from her chair, her hand clamping around my wrist like a vice. Her face was a thundercloud of fury. “Boyfriend? No. Not even him.” A surge of anger flared inside me. This was insane. “What gives you the right? Not even my own mother is this controlling!” I snapped, yanking my arm free. “It was one thing when you said it would affect my grades, but I’m in college now! Just because you’re single doesn’t mean I have to be single with you forever!” Elara just stared at me, her expression a strange mix of anger and… hurt. She was hurt? I was the one who was hurt! Fuming, I spun around and stormed out, slamming the door so hard the frame rattled. 2 Starving and irritable, I sat through my 8 AM lecture, the fight replaying in my head. Elara was my stepsister. My mother had remarried when I was ten, creating a new family with my stepfather. But their happiness was short-lived. A few years later, they were both killed in a car crash, leaving me and Elara, six years my senior, to fend for ourselves. From that day on, she was the only constant in the shifting landscape of my life. I remember waiting for her after my elementary school classes let out, long after all the other kids had gone home. She was just starting high school, but she learned to cook for me. The first few attempts were always burnt, but I’d eat every last bite with a grin, telling her she was a genius. I knew she wasn’t my real sister, and a part of me was terrified that one day she’d decide I was too much of a burden and leave me. I never asked for pocket money for snacks. When a classmate bullied me, stomping on my homework until it was a crumpled mess, I just told Elara I’d tripped. But she saw right through it. She marched me straight to the principal’s office to demand justice. I hid behind her small frame, watching in awe as she calmly and rationally argued with the teachers and the other kid’s parents, displaying a maturity far beyond her years. On the way home, she took me to a corner store and bought me a huge bag of all my favorite snacks. That was the day I knew. I would never be abandoned. She was the one who came to every parent-teacher conference. For my eighteenth birthday, she bought me a beautiful princess gown I’d been dreaming of but could never afford. She was the best sister in the world. She was also intensely possessive, hating it when anyone else got close to me. When I received my first love letter in high school, she found it and tore it to shreds. If she saw me holding hands with a friend, she’d give me the silent treatment for days. She was just terrified of losing me. She didn’t have many friends of her own and had never dated. Her entire world revolved around me. Thinking it through, my anger softened into a pang of sympathy. She was probably just scared that if I found a “heartthrob,” I’d leave her behind. As if I ever could. I decided to talk to her tonight, have a real heart-to-heart, clear the air, and reaffirm our sisterly bond. That evening, after my shower, I padded over to Elara’s room. Just as I raised my hand to knock, I heard it. A soft, breathy moan from inside. I froze, every muscle in my body tensing up. 3 I tried to tiptoe away, but the door creaked open. Elara stood there in a white silk nightgown, her hair a dark cascade around her shoulders, her cheeks flushed a pretty pink. The moment she saw me, her eyes turned to ice. “What do you want?” Her coldness stung. Forgetting my embarrassment, I stepped forward and took her hand, swinging it back and forth like I used to when I was little. “Elara,” I pleaded, “please don’t be mad at me. I was just running my mouth earlier. Don’t take it seriously, okay?” Her expression remained unreadable, but the frigid wall around her seemed to thaw slightly. “Come in.” The room was filled with the warm, floral scent of incense. I flopped onto her plush bed, my mind replaying that sound. Elara had been… Then I remembered I was still holding her hand. The hand she must have just been using. A hot blush crept up my neck, my fingertips tingling. It was like discovering a secret, intimate side to someone you thought you knew completely. My face was on fire. It took me a moment to remember why I’d come. I rolled onto my side. The warm lamplight softened the elegant lines of her face. “Sis,” I said, my voice serious, “I love you.” Her eyes widened in surprise, but the look was fleeting, replaced by a shadow of sadness. “No matter who I fall for in the future,” I pressed on, “you will always be the most important person in my life.” “Mm,” was all she said. Sometimes, I couldn’t figure her out. We were closer than anyone, but I could never quite decipher the complex emotions swirling in her eyes. She moved closer, her fingers brushing a stray strand of hair from my cheek and tucking it behind my ear. The faint perfume from her skin filled my senses, and my thoughts started to scatter again. The heat made my cheeks burn, and I buried my face in the duvet. “Sis,” I mumbled, “just now… you were…” Her eyes flickered. “You heard?” “Yeah.” She gently pulled the duvet away from my face, a teasing glint in her eyes. “Stella, don’t tell me you’ve never… taken care of yourself?” My face turned a shade of crimson I didn’t know was possible. I yanked the covers over my head, my voice muffled. “I just don’t like it! I’m a monk! All I care about is my studies!” I heard her low, throaty laugh from outside my fabric cave. God, this is so embarrassing. Suddenly, the covers were ripped away, and Elara slid into bed beside me. Our hair tangled together as her hand began a slow, deliberate journey down my body. A hot breath ghosted across my ear. “Here,” she whispered. “Let me show you.” A shiver, sharp and electric, shot through me. My legs instinctively clamped together. My mind turned to mush. Something about this felt wrong, so incredibly wrong. But… Elara had taught me everything. How to tie my shoes, how to ride a bike, how to face the world. So, this… this was probably okay too, right? 4 The sheets were a mess. Elara stripped the bed and put on a clean set while I hid in the bathroom, splashing cold water on my face to cool the inferno raging within me. My heart was a runaway train, threatening to burst from my chest. My body still thrummed with the phantom sensations of pleasure, my mind filled with the scent of her skin and the memory of her touch. I covered my face, mortified. Was this the difference six years made? Elara was an expert. She seemed so cool and detached, but she must have practiced… a lot. I crept back to my own room, but a message from her buzzed on my phone before I could even close the door. Elara: Embarrassed, huh? Huh, my ass, I thought, resisting the urge to throw my phone. Who do you think you are, some kind of CEO from a romance novel? I hammered at my screen, my thumbs flying. Me: No. I just prefer sleeping alone. Elara: Really? When you were little, you were so scared of the dark you’d stand outside my door clutching your teddy bear until I let you in. You wouldn’t sleep unless I held you. Elara: Are you sure you don’t want a hug, Stella? The problem with knowing someone your whole life is that they have an endless supply of blackmail material. Annoyed, I bit back a grin and typed furiously. Me: If you want someone to hug so badly, go find a boyfriend! Be careful or you’ll get finger cramps from all that ‘practice’! She didn’t reply for a long time. I considered it a victory. With my path to conquering James’s heart now clear, I felt a smug satisfaction. She didn’t have anyone. Hmph. Just as I was drifting off to sleep, my screen lit up. A new message from Elara. Elara: I already have someone I like. Smack. The phone slipped, smacking me square in the face. Elara liked someone? Who? How did I not know this? Why didn’t she tell me?! I fired off a series of angry, knife-wielding emojis, but she never revealed who it was. The thought kept me awake all night, my mind racing as I mentally scrolled through every person she knew. Nothing. She had someone she liked. She would get married one day. Have a cute baby. And I would just be… the aunt who visits on holidays. For some reason, a strange tightness constricted my chest. It was probably just from staying up too late. 5 From that day on, Elara started avoiding me. The anger I felt was quickly being replaced by a familiar panic, the same cold dread I felt as a child, terrified she would leave me. So, that weekend, I asked James to the movies. He was tall and lean, with fair skin and delicate features. A simple white shirt and black pants were enough to turn heads wherever he went. The first time I saw him at the art club, my heart had done a backflip. But so many girls liked him, I’d never had the confidence to make a move. Until my birthday party, when I finally worked up the nerve. We had both been drunk… I wondered if he even remembered the kiss. “James…” “We have about half an hour,” he said, his voice gentle. “Want to walk around for a bit?” I swallowed the rest of my sentence. “Okay.” We walked side by side, a careful ten-centimeter gap between us. I found myself drifting closer, my hand inching towards his, my fingertips just about to brush against his. Suddenly, my phone buzzed with a notification. It was Elara. Elara: Where are you? Elara: Your roommate said you went on a date. Elara: Why didn’t you tell me? I raised an eyebrow. Wasn’t she the one giving me the cold shoulder? Why the sudden urgency? “Stella?” James’s voice broke through my thoughts. “Everything okay?” I quickly shoved my phone back in my pocket. “Yeah. I was just saying, that handbag shop looks nice. Want to go in?” “Who was that?” he asked, a hint of curiosity in his eyes. “You looked pretty focused.” “My sister,” I said, a self-deprecating smile on my face. “She’s a bit… strict.” James just smiled warmly. “You two must be really close.” 6 After Elara’s texts, my mind was elsewhere. James, however, was fully engaged, earnestly discussing options with the sales associate. He picked out a few and presented them to me. He looked a little shy, but his gaze was sincere. “This is my first time picking something out for a girl. Do you… want to try them on?” I glanced at the price tags and was about to refuse—it felt a bit much for a first date. But then my eyes landed on a sleek, minimalist black bag. It would look perfect on Elara. “Okay,” I said, changing my mind. Standing in front of the mirror, I pictured Elara wearing it. It suited her even more than I’d imagined. I hated myself for it, for thinking about her at a time like this. She didn’t deserve it. “I’ll take this one,” I heard myself say. When it came time to pay, James and I entered into a polite but frantic battle, each of us trying to scan our own payment code before the other. After a few breathless rounds, we were both laughing. I leaned in and whispered, “Let me get this one. I want to give it to my sister.” James finally conceded. “You two really are close.” I pulled up my payment screen again, but before I could present it, a hand holding a credit card sliced through the air between us. “I’ll pay.” The voice was cool and achingly familiar. I whipped my head around. There stood Elara, looking impossibly chic and formidable in a white pantsuit. What was she doing here? Before I could even process her presence, she let out a cold snort. “A man who makes a girl pay for her own bag? Is that the best you can do?” James’s face flushed crimson as he tried to explain, but I instinctively clapped a hand over his mouth. Seeing this, Elara’s lips twisted into a bitter smile. “You like him that much? One kiss wasn’t enough, you’re already desperate for a second?” James’s eyes widened in confusion, looking at me. “Elara, shut up!” I hissed, mortified. I shot James an apologetic look and gestured for Elara to follow me outside. She shot him one last withering glare, her voice dripping with contempt. “You don’t deserve her.” Then, she turned on her heel and strode out of the store, leaving a stunned James in her wake. 7 Elara’s heels clicked furiously on the pavement as she stormed ahead, somehow looking even angrier than I felt. When we got into the back of a waiting car, I noticed a man with glasses and a scholarly air sitting in the driver’s seat. He kept glancing nervously between us in the rearview mirror, clearly sensing the tense atmosphere. I felt numb. Every single fight Elara and I ever had was because I got close to someone else. “How did you know where I was?” I asked flatly. Her gaze swept over me, cool and detached. “I have a tracking app on your phone.” For a second, I thought she had to be some kind of psychopath, a literal stalker. But before I could explode, she spoke again, her voice low. “That year in middle school, when you were almost kidnapped… I’ve been terrified ever since. So every time you get a new phone, I install it.” My anger deflated, replaced by a wave of warmth. I was about to say something to smooth things over when she delivered her next line like a command. “Don’t see him again.” The order, devoid of any consideration for my feelings, made me tremble with rage. I met her cold gaze with a defiant smile. “And what if I want to?” “I said, you are not to see him.” “And I never agreed to that.” She faltered, looking away as if she’d been struck. “Stella, you were always so good,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “When did you stop listening to me?”

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On my 30th birthday, my boyfriend Richard, egged on by his friends and fueled by liquid courage, broke up with me. “I’m sorry, Jenna,” he slurred, “I never had the guts to tell you, but my mom… she’d kill me if I married an older woman.” He was so sure I was head-over-heels for him that, to preemptively stop me from clinging, he announced his engagement to his childhood sweetheart the very same day. He expected tears. He expected a scene. What he got was the sound of me turning away, trying to stifle a laugh. After all, my hard-and-fast rule has always been to only date men under twenty-five. 1. When Richard said we were over, the Cartier watch I’d just given him was still gleaming on his wrist. I opened my mouth to say something, but one of Richard’s buddies cut me off, his voice dripping with impatience. “What are you still standing there for, lady? Pay the bill and get lost.” I swallowed my anger and turned my gaze to Richard. In the past, he would have been the first to leap to my defense, no matter how small the slight. This time, he just blinked, his face a mask of feigned apology. “Jenna, you wouldn’t make this hard for me, would you?” A cold laugh escaped my lips. “Didn’t you know I was five years older than you when we started dating?” He froze, lost for words. His little childhood sweetheart, Nina, immediately jumped in, her voice oozing with faux concern. “Don’t you think it’s a little… unbecoming? An older woman robbing the cradle? A freshman asked me out once, he was only a few months younger, and even I didn’t have the heart to agree… Jenna, you…” Nina never finished her sentence. The sharp crack of my palm connecting with her cheek cut her off. For Richard’s sake, I had always tolerated Nina’s snide remarks and passive-aggressive digs. I’d just treated it like the yapping of a small dog. Today, my patience had finally run out. Richard reacted instantly, shoving me hard. I stumbled backward, my hip slamming into the edge of a chair with a jolt of pain that brought tears to my eyes. He immediately turned to comfort the red-eyed, sobbing Nina. The others at the table shot to their feet, surrounding me. One of them grabbed a fistful of my hair, yanking my head back. “You old bitch, how dare you hit her! Apologize to Nina right now!” Richard watched it all happen without a word of protest. Cradling Nina protectively, he looked at me with cold eyes. “If you don’t apologize, I’ll let Nina return the favor.” I knew then that the charade was over. He wasn’t even pretending anymore. Since the day we met, he had almost always been the sweet, considerate boyfriend. Even when Nina repeatedly inserted herself into our lives, Richard had always taken my side, whispering sweet reassurances. “Her dad saved my life once, babe. Can’t we just let it slide, for my sake?” Perhaps it was the warmth of those memories that made this moment feel so surreal, like a nightmare I couldn’t wake from. To Richard, my stunned silence must have looked like surrender. A smug, triumphant smirk spread across his face. I expected Nina to seize the opportunity to humiliate me further. Instead, she stepped in front of Richard, her voice a theatrical wail. “It’s okay, Jenna… if you want to hit me, just hit me…” She choked on a sob, her knees buckling as if she were about to collapse. “My father is dying,” she cried, “and his only wish is to see me settled down. Richard is the only one I’ve ever had… you already have everything, so can’t you just let me have him? Please?” 2. Nina had always been a delicate-looking thing. Now, with tears streaming down her face, she looked like a fragile white flower being battered by a storm. If I hadn’t already known about their little scheme, I might have actually fallen for her Oscar-worthy performance. Last night, after Richard had fallen asleep, I’d looked at his phone. In a group chat with his friends, I found everything I needed to know. “Dude, you’ve been milking that old cow for three years. Isn’t it time you dumped her and made an honest woman out of Nina?” Another one chimed in: “Yeah man, you’ve got your career going, Nina’s graduated college. Just do it already. We’re all waiting to be godfathers!” “For real. Every time I see that old hag I wanna puke. If she wasn’t a walking ATM, who would even bother?” “LOL, that’s the funniest part. She thinks she’s some big shot, but all it takes is a few sweet words from our boy Richard and she forgets we can’t stand her. She’s such a sucker, still buying us dinner and gifts!” And Richard—the man who always defended me to their faces—had replied: “Chill, guys. Jenna’s useless to me now. Just help me play this out tomorrow. I’m going for one last score.” With the last ounce of my composure, I placed his phone back on the nightstand, walked into the bathroom, and threw up. I hit the flush, watching my dinner and the last vestiges of my love for Richard swirl down the drain. Four years ago, I’d been invited back to my alma mater as a distinguished graduate to give a speech. Afterward, a young student pushed his way through the crowd to ask for my contact information. It was Richard. He used the pretense of being a student in my old department to ask for advice. I was happy to help. Over time, our conversations drifted from professional to personal. Before I knew it, he was pursuing me relentlessly. I was fond of him. I’ve always had a soft spot for the vibrant energy of younger men, so I agreed to a date. And I had to admit, of all the boyfriends I’d had, Richard was the most compatible. We’d nearly broken up a few times, but he always came back, begging for another chance, his eyes red as he held me tight. “Jenna, I will never, ever agree to break up with you!” Finding a young, uncomplicated partner isn’t easy, and I had genuinely grown to care for him. So, as my 30th birthday approached, I decided to give him one final test. I staged a phone call for him to “overhear,” making him believe my business was on the verge of collapse and that I was down to my last sixteen thousand dollars. I was both hopeful and terrified. I wanted him to be different from the others. But that evening, as he was giving me a shoulder rub, he casually brought up the ten-thousand-dollar Cartier watch he’d been wanting. In that moment, I knew we were finished. The sharp pain in my scalp pulled me back to the present. “Nina, honey, why are you wasting your breath on this old hag? Just go over there and slap her!” one of the guys urged. Nina waved her hands dismissively, putting on a show of magnanimity. “No, no, please let her go! Let’s just finish our meal and go our separate ways.” Her words seemed to remind them of my function as their personal ATM. Muttering a few curses under their breath, they reluctantly let go of my hair. Richard, remembering his own plan, quickly pasted a smile on his face. “Sorry about that, Jenna. I was just worried you’d get in trouble for hitting her. You shouldn’t be so impulsive. Let’s just part on good terms, okay? We can still be friends.” Honestly, it was a tragedy. The world of theater was losing a true talent in Richard. I gave him a smile that didn’t reach my eyes and spread my hands. “My money’s all tied up in a project. Looks like this one’s on you.” 3. The smile vanished from Richard’s face. Before he could say anything, a waiter knocked and entered the private room. In that moment of distraction, I grabbed my purse and bolted, leaving their chorus of curses echoing far behind me. Richard started to follow, but a manager and several more waiters converged on the room, pointedly asking if they intended to dine and dash. Once clear, I went straight to meet my best friend, Mona. Luckily, I’d never told Richard that Mona owned the restaurant. His friends loved the high-end menu here and always made sure to run up an exorbitant tab on my dime. Mona glanced at the string of calls from Richard lighting up my phone screen, then slid the bill across the table with a wry smile. “That bastard,” she said. “Between this meal and that watch, he managed to spend almost exactly your ‘last sixteen thousand,’ didn’t he?” I let out a cold laugh. As I was about to unleash a tirade about Richard, I noticed a man sitting alone in a corner of the office. Mona followed my gaze and waved him over. “Elias, come on over! You’ve been asking about Jenna for ages. Now that she’s here, don’t tell me you’re going to hide in a corner.” The name—Elias—sparked a flicker of familiarity. Before I could place it, he was striding towards us. He was tall, a solid presence that seemed to fill the room. I looked up and met a pair of intense, dark eyes swirling with some hidden current. “Jenna,” he said, his voice low. “It’s been a long time.” Was it my imagination, or was there a slight tremor in his voice? I studied his face—the sharp jawline, the broad shoulders—and finally, the memory clicked into place. Elias was Mona’s cousin. The first time we met, he was a gangly seventeen-year-old high school kid who followed me around like a puppy, stubbornly refusing to call me “Jenna” and instead using my full name. He had grown up, and he had grown up well. Ignoring the faint hint of resentment radiating from him, I reached out and playfully patted his shoulder. “How many times have I told you? Don’t call me by my full name. It’s just Jenna.” A clear look of relief washed over his features. He ducked his head slightly, his voice barely a whisper. “I’m glad you haven’t forgotten me.” Before I could puzzle out the meaning behind his words, the office door burst open and Richard and his entourage stormed in. Mona, who seemed to have anticipated this, glanced at Elias and took a calm sip of her coffee. Richard’s eyes immediately locked onto my hand on Elias’s shoulder, and his face darkened. But just as quickly, his expression shifted to one of pure contempt. “Seriously, Jenna? You found some random guy just to try and make me jealous? Give it up. I’m getting engaged to Nina tonight!” he sneered. “And don’t you dare show up and make a fool of yourself, crying and begging me to take you back.” Nina, emboldened, snuggled against Richard’s side, her eyes full of triumphant provocation. “That’s right, Jenna. I know how much you love him, but it’s a little shameless to be so hung up on someone else’s man, don’t you think?” she cooed. “You must be hurting so much right now. We’re only doing this to help you move on…” I couldn’t help it; I laughed out loud at their delusional performance. “Still playing the ‘daughter of my savior’ card? Are you ever going to get tired of that act? If you two bother me one more time, I swear I’ll call my lawyer. We can have a nice little chat about every single cent I spent on you during our relationship, including the money that paid for your dear Nina’s college tuition. How does that sound?” 4. The color drained from Nina’s face. She shot me a venomous look and clamped her mouth shut. Richard, however, just smirked, utterly confident. “Wow, that’s a new low, trying to win me back with threats. I’ll let you off for the meal this time. Don’t forget to come to the wedding!” With a final, possessive arm around Nina’s shoulders, he swept out of the room with his friends in tow. Mona looked at me, surprised. “You’re just letting him go like that?” I shook my head, a plan already forming in my mind. Richard had no idea that the only reason his startup was successful was because I had been secretly bankrolling it and feeding him clients. But I wasn’t going to pull the rug out from under him just yet. I would wait until he was at the very peak of his success, basking in his glory. Then, I would be the one to personally send him crashing back down to earth. My expression must have been grim, because Elias gently touched my arm. “Jenna, have some self-respect. Is a guy like that really worth your time?” His disappointed, fatherly tone was so unexpected that I found myself instinctively trying to explain. He just looked at me with even more disapproval, as if he was certain I was lying to myself. He didn’t argue, though. He just let out a soft sigh. “It’s late. It’s not safe for you to go home alone. Can I walk you?” Before I could answer, Mona slung an arm around me. “That would be wonderful!” she chirped, then leaned in to whisper in my ear. “That idiot has been in love with you for years. He’s rich, he’s hot, and he’s definitely got stamina. The least you can do is give him a chance, right?” I glanced at Elias, stunned. Mona gave me a gentle push, sending me stumbling straight into him. To his credit, he didn’t take advantage of the situation. He just steadying me carefully, his touch as gentle as if he were handling a priceless treasure. But the raw desire warring with restraint in his eyes was unmistakable. Mona wasn’t joking. As we were leaving, Mona slipped a small box into my purse. “Way better than Richard, right? Young and energetic. Don’t worry, my aunt is super open-minded. She’s totally cool with the seven-year age gap.” I shot a look at Elias. His face, his body… he was exactly my type. Since Richard had been the one to betray me, I saw no reason to observe a mourning period for a relationship that wasn’t worth it. But Elias was far more disciplined than I expected. He walked me to my door, got my number, and then simply left. I didn’t press the issue. I keyed in my code and opened the door, only to freeze on the threshold. Two figures were tangled together on my sofa. Nina shrieked, scrambling to cover herself. Richard, furious, started to yell at me, but at that exact moment, Elias reappeared, striding past me into the apartment and planting himself firmly between me and them. Richard’s face contorted with rage. “You even brought him to our home? You’re really committed to this act, aren’t you? God, you’re disgusting, the way you just can’t let me go!” Nina, having hastily pulled on her clothes, added her two cents. “Honestly, Jenna, a woman has to have some self-love. Can’t you just stop harassing my fiancé?” This time, I didn’t hold back. I swung my heavy leather handbag, aiming straight for their heads. The force of the blow was so strong that the small box Mona had given me flew out and clattered onto the floor. A box of condoms. Richard’s face went white. He stared at me and Elias, his expression one of ultimate betrayal, his jaw clenched so tight I thought his teeth would crack. “How dare you, Jenna?” he seethed. “Just because I don’t want you anymore, you think you can just go and hook up with some other guy?” I was suddenly confused. He was the one who had used me for my money. He was the one who had planned to dump me the second he thought I was broke. And now he was acting like I was the one who had wronged him? But I didn’t have time to unravel his twisted logic. I just pulled out my phone and dialed 911. “Yes, hello? I’d like to report a break-in. Two people have illegally entered my home and are refusing to return my stolen property.”

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