Category: English

When I caught Julian Vance in bed for the eighth time. I didn’t scream, nor did I make a scene. Just handed the coat to the girl, calmly said: “Leave through the back door of the villa.” The girl looked at me carefully, fled as if escaping. And Julian leaned on the headboard, looking at me, slowly smoked a cigarette: “It’s the little girl’s first time here, not easy, don’t scare her.” “She is different from you, I don’t want her to feel wronged.” “Today is her birthday, I have to accompany her tonight, won’t come back.” I lowered my eyes, only softly responded, didn’t argue much. After all, Julian seems not to know yet. That little girl, is HIV Positive. … Chapter 1 Condoms scattered all over the floor, air still has a faint fishy smell. I put on a mask, opened the window, started to air out the room. Didn’t look at him again. Instead he, blowing smoke rings, looked at me with interest: “Why no divorce trouble today, thought it through?” I turned my back to him, fingers paused on the window sill, then continued to push open the window. “Mm,” my voice very light, “Thought it through.” Julian sneered. “Should have thought it through long ago,” he lazily got up, started dressing, “Families like ours, marriage to the end, playing separately is the norm. Best if you can figure it out, save everyone embarrassment.” I turned around, quietly watched him button his shirt. Four years of marriage, he is still handsome, that cynical carelessness between eyebrows, still can easily make young girls heart move. “Really not coming back tonight?” I asked. “Not coming back.” He fastened his belt, glanced at me, “Why, today is some special day?” I shook my head: “Just asking.” He shrugged, picked up the watch on the bedside table and put it on—Patek Philippe limited edition, my birthday gift to him last year. “Right,” when walking to the door, he suddenly stopped, “Condoms at home not enough, you find time to buy some.” “Okay.” Door closed. I stood by the window for a while longer, until saw his car lights cut through the night, disappear at the end of the tree-lined avenue. Then I picked up the phone, dialed a number. “He left,” I said, “Can start cleaning.” Five minutes later, three people wearing protective suits entered the room. They neatly cleaned up the condoms scattered on the floor, wiped every corner with special disinfectant, removed all sheets and bedding into sealed bags. The leading middle-aged woman nodded to me: “Miss Serena, all handled. You rest assured, won’t leave any infection risk.” “Hard work,” I said, “Especially this bedroom, must disinfect thoroughly.” “Understood.” I exited the room, closed the door. Corridor lights gently spilled on the dark floor, wedding photos hung on the wall. In the photo I wore a wedding dress, smiled shyly and brilliantly, Julian held my waist, looked at me gently. At that time we were intimate, loving extraordinary. But now, there painted with piercing love hearts by different women using lipstick. I was also caused by his lovers, lost two children, hard to conceive again. I calmly looked once, turned and left, then walked down stairs. On the coffee table in the living room sat a cake box. I picked up the included candle, inserted one on the cake, lit it. Julian only remembered today is his little girl’s birthday. But habitually forgot, today is also my and his fourth wedding anniversary. Also my birthday. Flame danced, I stared at that cluster of fire for a long time, then blew it out. Actually originally, I was going to sue for divorce. But now, I don’t want to. I want his inheritance of hundreds of millions. I want all his money and power. Chapter 2 Consecutive five days, Julian didn’t come back. But his little girl seemed to get some tacit permission, punctually sent messages and videos to me. [Sister, he said I am the kind of person he really wants.] [Sister, he said wife like you who only guards home, he long tired of.] [Tonight he not going back again, you sleep alone cold not cold?] I didn’t reply a single one. Just took medicine on time, physical exam on time, sleep on time, then as usual let assistant classify and archive these screenshots. And sixth night, Julian called me. That time I was in Private Clinic, just finished a set of checks, sitting on the bench in the corridor waiting for results. On the phone his voice hoarse, carrying some panting after indulgence. “Serena Sterling,” he called my name, “Recently someone photographed me and Lily. Tomorrow there is an interview, you come to the company, help her clarify.” I silenced for two seconds. “Clarify what?” “Just say all misunderstanding, say she is just student I sponsored, you were also at scene then,” he paused, “You know, she is young, can’t handle these public opinions.” I looked down at the needle mark not yet dispersed on back of my hand. “Okay.” I said. Phone end obviously sighed relief. “Still you sensible,” his tone softened, “Tonight I go back accompany you? Aren’t we also long time no…” “I these two days not convenient,” I lowered eyes, interrupted him, “Period.” Phone end quiet for an instant. “…Fine ba.” He somewhat disappointed, but soon restored that coaxing tone, “Then you sleep early, don’t think wild.” Hung up phone, I looked at the black screen, suddenly wanted to laugh a bit. He thought I was keeping body for him. But didn’t know, I just simply felt dirty. Next day interview, arranged in group building first floor lobby. Media came very complete, long guns short cannons, aimed at us this pair of “Model Couple”. I held Julian’s arm, makeup exquisite, smiled gentle and decent. When asked about those ambiguous rumors, he subconsciously looked at me. I took the microphone for him. “Indeed misunderstanding,” I smiled and said, “Miss Lily is student my husband sponsored, recently health not good, he took care few more times, photographed by people with intention, then rumored like this. Hope everyone don’t over interpret.” Someone below pursued: “Does Mrs. Vance really not mind at all?” I turned head look Julian, eyes full of reliance and trust. “I of course believe him.” That moment, strength he held my wrist, obviously tightened a bit. But interview proceeded half, his phone received a message. Julian’s face, almost instantly changed. He stood up, didn’t even have time to look at me. “Sorry, temporary urgent matter.” He finished this sentence to host, already turned and walked out. I still sat in place, hand holding microphone. Media below a burst of commotion. Someone loudly asked: “Mr. Vance, is it because of Miss Lily? Heard she hospitalized?” His steps paused a bit. Then walked without looking back. I alone, sat in place with brightest lights, cleaned up mess for him, continued to finish acting that “Husband Wife Deep Love” play for him. After dismissal, assistant carefully asked me: “Madam, are you okay?” I stood up, tidied skirt hem, smiled. “Quite good.” Is really quite good. Because I know, he again pushed for me towards finish line, a push. That night, he didn’t come home. Only sent me a message: [She fever severe, I in hospital. You sleep first.] I replied a word: [Good.] Then, I thought thought what, sent another sentence: [My mom health bit not good, I tomorrow want go back hometown a trip, about a month come back.] [Want me accompany you go?] [Not big matter, I go just fine.] [Good.] Finished sending message, I sighed relief, put phone aside, continue flip look that report newly delivered. Above clearly wrote few words. ——Incubation period passed, possess infectivity. Chapter 3 Next morning early, I packed luggage left villa. When car drove out of tree-lined avenue, I looked at that house lived four years from rearview mirror. Morning fog hasn’t dispersed, gray white light caged whole garden. Garden planted full red roses. This was he back then let people air transport from France, just because I said a sentence like. Golden branch jade leaf Old Money Heir, then spent few months accompany me personal hand planted these nine hundred ninety nine roses. That time to achieve max degree beauty, he even rose layout personal stayed up night changed nine versions. I that time still laughed him: “You a big man, how compare me still particular.” He lowered head kissed on my forehead: “That is because this is our home.” Our home. I moved away sight, leaned on seat, closed eyes. Now lovers he brought back emerge endlessly, roses also only me one person still taking care. Our home, long became their home. I didn’t go back hometown, but directly went to a nursing home in suburbs. Doctor already waiting me. “Miss Serena, according to current data, you side no infection sign,” he flipped report, “But for absolute safety, next one month you best all don’t have intimate contact with anyone.” “I understand.” I nodded. “As for Mr. Julian side…” He paused, didn’t finish. “Continue observe just fine.” I finished for him, “Have any result, first time tell me.” I lived into a small building most inside nursing home. Daily life simple and regular, recheck, take medicine, read, walk. Like patiently, waiting a countdown. Seventh night, Julian called me. That was after I left, he first time active contact me. When phone connected, that end very noisy, like in social drinking bureau. “Where at?” He asked, tone bit impatient. “Hometown.” I said very calm. “Why so long not reply message?” He frowned, “I these two days bit uncomfortable, maybe too tired. When you come back?” “Not sure,” I soft voice said, “My mom side still want see again.” He obviously some unhappy, but still suppressed temper: “Fine ba, then you take care yourself.” Before hang up, he added a sentence: “Right, Lily feels better, discharged, little girl in city no others know, I also not good let her always stay hotel, these days I let her move into villa, live is your bedroom, you come back don’t strange, also don’t think too much.” I “Mn” a sound. Of course won’t think much. Because that originally, is place I chose for them. Passed another four days. This time, is his assistant called me. Voice on phone very panic. “Madam, Mr. Vance accident.” My fingers holding phone, slightly tightened. “What happen to him?” “Last night high fever not retreat, this morning sent to hospital, doctor… doctor said situation bit complex, let family as soon as possible go a trip.” I silent two seconds. “Which hospital?” Assistant reported address. Exactly the one Lily lived before. “I know,” I said, “I will rush over ASAP.” Hung up phone, I sat by bed, lowered head looking at that quiet lawn outside window. Sunlight very good. Good not like want happen what bad thing. Doctor knocked door come in. “Miss Serena,” he looked at me, “You want go out?” “Mn.” I stood up, “Go see my husband.” He wish speak again stop, finally only said a sentence: “You yourself pay attention safety.” I smiled, put on mask. “Rest assured.” I cherish life more than anyone. Chapter 4 When car drove into city, my phone lit again. Is message sent by Julian. [Where?] I looked at those two words, passed very long, then replied. [On way.] [I bit uncomfortable.] [Doctor looking.] He probably is really uneasy. Before he sick, always me by bed guarding. Feed water, feed medicine, whole night not sleep. He used to I definitely will be there. And this time, he can only find me across screen. I didn’t reply again. Hospital disinfectant smell very heavy. Assistant waiting me at door, face compare I imagine still ugly. “Madam,” he lowered voice, “Doctor already gave Mr. Vance did preliminary check, suggest… do further special detection.” I nodded: “I know.” Push open ward door time, Julian right lean on bed head infusion. He thin a bit, face color very bad. Seeing me that moment, he obviously stunned a bit, immediately sighed relief. “You came.” That instant, reliance in his eyes, almost instinct. I walked over, put bag aside. “Where uncomfortable?” “Whole body no strength,” he frowned, “Head also pain. Doctor said maybe infection.” He said very casual. Like saying a normal cold. I tucked quilt corner for him, action as always gentle. “Don’t worry,” I soft voice said, “Will be good.” He looked at me, suddenly reached hand, grabbed my wrist. “Serena Sterling,” his voice bit hoarse, “This while… hard work you.” I lowered head, looking at that hand grabbing me. Knuckles slender, once countless times, held me walked through crowd. “We are husband and wife.” I said. He then like put down heart, slowly closed eyes. Not pass long, doctor came in call me out talk. Corridor very long. Before he hand that report to me, looked me one eye. “Miss Serena, result out.” I took over, sight fall on most critical that line words. ——Confirm Infection. I very calm. Calm to, even myself feel bit surprised. “Does he know now?” I asked. “Temporary not yet,” doctor said, “This situation, suggest by family to inform.” I nodded. “I come ba.” Back to ward time, Julian still sleeping. Sunlight outside window fall on his face, quiet and innocent. Like nothing has started yet. I sat by bed, looked him very long. Then, gently called a sound. “Julian Vance.” He opened eyes: “Mn?” I looked at him, tone as always gentle. “Doctor said, you got a not too good disease.” He stunned. “What disease?” I didn’t immediately answer. Just slowly, put that report, in front of him.

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The news spread through the family like cold smoke: Richard Callahan was retiring after he miraculously pulled The Callahan Group back from the brink. The company shares, the very legacy of the Callahan name, were split into four parts: one for each of his sons’ wives, and one for himself. Except for me. I got nothing. “Your company, Clarity Tech, is a massive success, valued at over a hundred million. You don’t need the small shares from The Callahan Group.” Richard said it with a stunning lack of shame. I simply smiled and nodded, saying nothing. That very evening, I called my private attorney. The fifteen million dollars that had resurrected The Callahan Group? I loaned it to them. And it still hadn’t been repaid. My lawyer, Mr. Hollis, sounded cautious. “Calling in the debt now… it will cripple their cash flow. They just stabilized. This could be fatal. They are, after all, your family…” I laughed. “Family? They forfeited that title.” 1 The long dining table gleamed beneath the crystal chandelier in the Callahan estate. The room was packed. Richard Callahan sat at the head, his face flushed—a healthy glow, I knew, bought and paid for by my fifteen million dollars. “Today, we celebrate three great joys!” Richard, my father-in-law, raised his glass, his voice booming as if he hadn’t been on the verge of total financial ruin eighteen months ago. I sat next to my husband, Nate Callahan, my face set in the polite smile I’d practiced a thousand times. On the table, the imported cherries and delicate pastries I’d picked up that afternoon went untouched by me. Nate nudged my elbow under the table, a silent plea for me to perk up. “First joy: The Callahan Group has survived a near-death experience and is back on track!” Richard surveyed the room, his eyes sweeping over me without a flicker of acknowledgment. “Second joy: I, Richard Callahan, am officially retiring today!” Applause erupted. My eldest brother-in-law, Travis, and the second, Brock, clapped loudest. Their wives, Deb and Tess, exchanged a knowing glance that settled like silt in my stomach. My heart began to sink, slow and steady. “And the third joy,” Richard paused, savoring the attention, before pulling four embossed gold share certificates from his briefcase. “Is the future of The Callahan Group.” Deb straightened her spine; Tess couldn’t suppress the upward curve of her lips. Even Zack, the youngest, who had recently returned from London, held his breath. Only my smile remained unchanged, my fingertips ice cold. “Travis, you’ve been with me for thirty years, steady as a rock. Chairman, 35% of the shares. They’re yours.” Travis stood, taking the papers with both hands, his voice trembling with emotion. “Thank you, Dad! I won’t let you down!” “Brock, you’re the sharp one, the innovator. President, 30% of the shares.” Brock’s hands shook as he took the document. “You have my word, Dad.” The third certificate bypassed Nate and went directly to Zack. “Zack, you’re young, but you have fresh, international ideas. Vice President, 25% of the shares. Make me proud.” Zack hesitated, looking at Nate. “Dad, Nate, he…” “Your brother has his own arrangements.” Richard waved a dismissive hand and finally picked up the last document. All eyes, including Nate’s, turned to me. They were waiting for the expected performance. Richard handed the document to Nate. “Nate, this 10% stake will be placed in a family trust. You’ll hold it for the family. Just focus on supporting your brothers, alright?” Nate’s hand froze mid-air as he reached for the paper. All four documents had been distributed. The dining room fell silent for a heartbeat before exploding into forced, cheerful laughter. Travis clapped Nate on the shoulder, talking about “brotherly unity.” Brock raised a toast to “creating a brighter future.” Deb and Tess were already whispering about where they would go for a celebratory spa day. My utensils were untouched. “Dad.” Nate finally spoke, his voice dry as sandpaper. “What about… Quinn?” Richard acted as if he’d just remembered I was there, looking up at me with the placid, indifferent gaze one might give a forgotten houseguest. “Oh, Quinn.” He smiled—a smile that stung my eyes. “Your Clarity Tech is a massive success, valued at over a hundred million. You surely don’t want to bother yourself with The Callahan Group’s small shares. I won’t burden you with it.” He never once mentioned the fifteen million I’d loaned him to save his company, nor the original agreement. His tone was one of absolute entitlement, as if this omission were a thoughtful gesture. Under the table, Nate grabbed my hand, squeezing so hard I thought my bones might shatter. He was silently begging me, pleading with me not to make a scene, not to humiliate him in front of his family. I could feel the gloating eyes of Travis and Brock, and hear Deb’s hushed, cutting whisper: “See? What good is being a hot-shot CEO? She’s still an outsider.” Slowly, I pulled my hand free. I picked up my glass of red wine and stood. I raised the glass to Richard, my smile perfect, measured, and utterly hollow. “Dad is right,” I said. “We have what we need.” I tilted my head back and drained the glass in one go. The sharp bitterness of the red wine exploded on my tongue and burned a trail all the way down to my stomach. “I’m tired. I’ll head home now.” I set the glass down, pulled out my chair, and walked out. No questions, no accusations, not a hint of lost composure. Behind me, I heard the sound of Nate abruptly standing, followed by Richard’s cold, displeased scoff. “What kind of attitude is that!” I didn’t look back. Walking out of the Callahan estate, the late-autumn night air was biting. I pulled my coat tighter and walked toward my car. Nate chased after me, grabbing my arm at the car door. “Quinn! What the hell was that?” His face was flushed, tight with anger. “You’re giving my father that kind of attitude in front of the whole family? He just recovered!” I looked at him, the man I’d loved for seven years, whose face was now etched with accusation. “Let go.” “Can’t you just be understanding for once? Dad just had heart surgery! Can’t you just play along? For the sake of the family—can’t you just suck it up? It’s a tiny bit of stock; we can earn that ourselves!” His words felt like fine needles, pricking my heart. A sudden, bitter amusement filled me. The sake of the family? Whose family? The Callahans’ family? I slowly raised my eyes, my voice clear and precise. “Nate, that fifteen million was due two months ago. I didn’t call it in, thinking we were ‘family.’ Now your father has made it clear that I’m not worthy of being part of this family.” Nate froze, his eyes darting away. “It’s… it’s been overdue for two months? Why didn’t you say anything?” “Because I held onto one last shred of hope for the Callahan name.” I opened the car door. “That hope is now gone.” I slid into the driver’s seat, rolled down the window, and looked at him one last time. “My lawyer will be at The Callahan Group tomorrow at nine AM with an overdue notice. Principal, plus interest. Not a penny less.” I started the engine and drove into the night. In the rearview mirror, Nate’s figure grew smaller until it finally vanished. 2 I didn’t go home. I drove straight to my company headquarters. Only a few emergency lights glowed in the office building at this hour, and my heels clicked a sharp, solitary rhythm on the marble floor. I unlocked the safe in my office. Two files lay inside, side-by-side. The first was the Loan Agreement. Fifteen million dollars, 6.5% annual interest, for eighteen months. Richard Callahan’s signature, with Nate as a witness. The due date was circled in red—two months ago. The second was the Supplemental Agreement. Only one page, with the most critical clause: “Should The Callahan Group successfully recover, Party B (Quinn Callahan) is entitled to acquire no less than 15% equity at a preferential price or equivalent compensation.” Black and white, stamped with the cold gleam of the notary seal. I picked up my phone and called my private attorney, Mr. Hollis. It rang five times before he answered, his voice alert—he was likely working late. “Mr. Hollis.” “Ms. Callahan, what can I do for you at this hour?” “The loan to The Callahan Group is two months overdue.” My voice was jarringly clear in the empty office. “Issue a formal demand letter tomorrow morning. Require full repayment of principal and interest within 24 hours.” Mr. Hollis drew a sharp breath. “Ms. Callahan,” he said cautiously. “Calling in the debt now… it will sever their cash flow. They just stabilized. This could be fatal.” “That is their problem.” I walked to the floor-to-ceiling window. The city lights blazed outside, but I felt utterly cold inside. A long silence followed on the phone. “Ms. Callahan, they are your family. Are you sure you want to—” I cut him off. “Mr. Hollis, I want you to go personally. Bring all the documents, and—bring the evidence that they issued an unauthorized shareholder dividend last month while failing to repay my mature debt.” “Understood.” Mr. Hollis’s voice steadied. “I will be at The Callahan Group at nine AM sharp. How shall I calculate the interest?” “The principal is fifteen million. The normal interest for eighteen months is $1.4625 million. The penalty interest for two months overdue is $162,500.” I recited the pre-calculated numbers. “Total due: $16,625,000. Effective tomorrow, the overdue interest will continue to accrue at a daily rate of 0.05%.” “Very well.” Mr. Hollis paused. “Ms. Callahan, are you okay?” I hesitated. He had been my attorney for seven years, witnessing my journey from start-up founder to marriage and now to this. He was one of the few who knew that $3.4 million of that fifteen million was the money from my mother’s inherited condo. “I’m fine,” I said. “I’ve never been better.” I hung up and stood by the window for a long time. Eighteen months ago, the rain had fallen, matching the anxiety in my heart. It was a Friday. I was on a conference call with investors, discussing Clarity Tech’s Series B funding. Nate called seven times in a row. I had to interrupt the meeting to call him back. “Quinn…” Nate’s voice was shaking. “My father… he’s kneeling in front of me…” When I rushed to the Callahan estate, the living room was silent. Richard was slumped on the sofa, looking utterly defeated. Travis and Brock were on the balcony, smoking, shrouded in a smoky haze. “Suppliers have stopped all deliveries, the bank pulled the credit line, the accounts are frozen,” Nate said, his eyes bloodshot. “Three hundred employees need to be paid next week. Dad says the Callahan family legacy, three generations of work, is about to be ruined in his hands.” I, the “outsider,” was invited to the family meeting that night for the first time. Travis argued for bankruptcy reorganization: “We strip the debt and start fresh.” Brock argued for selling assets: “Liquidate and walk away, at least we’ll keep some money.” They argued furiously while Richard just covered his face, his shoulders trembling. It was 11 PM when everyone else left. Richard invited me into his study alone. The main light was off, only a desk lamp glowed. In the dim, yellow light, the wrinkles on his face looked like deep ravines. “Quinn,” he said, his voice hoarse. “The Callahans… we’re out of options.” He slid a financial statement toward me. I scanned it, my heart sinking: Negative net assets, multiple overdue debts. “How much do you need?” I asked. “At least fifteen million.” Richard looked at me. “The banks won’t lend, all our assets are collateralized. Relatives and friends… I’ve asked everyone.” He suddenly rose to his feet, his knees bending slightly. I shot out of my chair in alarm. “Dad!” “Quinn, I’m begging you.” Richard didn’t fully kneel, but he bowed deeply. “Save The Callahan Group, save the family. If you do this, forever… The Callahan Group will belong to you and Nate.” He sounded sincere, his eyes red-rimmed. I was silent for a long time. “I need to discuss this with my partners,” I finally said. “Clarity Tech is in a critical funding stage. Selling my personal shares will affect the company’s valuation.” “I know… I know this is a huge ask,” Richard said, taking a draft agreement from his drawer. “Look, I wrote a supplemental clause: Once The Callahan Group recovers, you can buy in at net asset value, no less than 15% equity. I will not shortchange you.” I didn’t sleep that night. I spent three hours on the phone with my partners. One of them sighed heavily in the end. “Quinn, the semiconductor industry is booming. Liquidating your shares now means you’re losing at least double the profit potential. And… family businesses are a dark, deep pit.” “I know,” I said, watching the first light of dawn creep across the window. “But I can’t watch Nate’s father die.” I sold a portion of my personal Clarity Tech stock, liquidating twelve million dollars. Then, I sold the last property my mother left me—a small two-bedroom condo in the old town. Before she died, she held my hand and said, “Quinn, don’t ever sell this. Rent it out for your cushion. Never let anyone compromise you.” The condo sold for three million. The day I put together the fifteen million, I insisted Richard sign the formal agreement. Not distrust, but business practice. He signed readily and even called in a notary. Three weeks after the money hit his account, I felt uneasy and had my CFO quietly check The Callahan Group’s books. The result was chilling. Within a week of receiving the life-saving fifteen million, there were two abnormal expenditures: $600,000 transferred to an overseas account, memo: “Tuition Fees”—Travis’s son’s college account. Another $800,000 paid to a luxury dealership—Brock bought a new Range Rover. I placed the statement in front of Richard. His face changed, and he sighed. “Quinn, your brothers… they haven’t had a good life for years. I promise, just this once. It won’t happen again.” I didn’t press the matter. Two months ago, the loan matured. I called Richard. He chuckled over the phone. “Quinn, I’m a little tight right now. Give me a few more days. Family shouldn’t rush these things.” I said, “Okay, Dad. Let me know when it’s convenient.” One month ago, Nate mentioned it. “Dad says he’ll pay next month.” I didn’t push. A week ago, The Callahan Group suddenly issued a dividend. The brothers were ecstatic. I thought: Once Dad settles down, he’ll surely bring up the equity. I gave them two months. They used those two months to show me what oblivion and ingratitude looked like. After finalizing the details with Mr. Hollis, the sky was already turning a pale gray. My phone vibrated. A text from Nate. “Quinn, Dad is in the hospital. He had chest pains after you left last night. Can we talk?” I didn’t reply. I walked into the restroom and splashed cold water on my face. The woman in the mirror had bloodshot eyes, but her gaze was fiercely bright. At nine AM sharp, I texted Mr. Hollis: “Go.” 3 Nine-ten AM, The Callahan Group CEO’s office. Travis Callahan had just brewed a cup of tea when his secretary burst in, flustered. “Mr. Callahan! Mr. Hollis is here!” Mr. Hollis, dressed in a sharp suit, accompanied by an assistant, walked into the conference room. Travis was still holding his teacup. “Mr. Callahan, good morning.” Mr. Hollis nodded, then pulled out the documents. “As counsel for Ms. Quinn Callahan, I am formally notifying you that the loan principal is two months overdue. This is the Demand Letter. Please sign here to acknowledge receipt.”

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The day my biological parents, the titans of industry who had lost me at birth, finally found me, I was already pregnant. And I had absolutely no idea who the father of the child in my belly was. They were instantly consumed by a furious shame, declaring that the bastard child had to be aborted. The Dawson family name would not be tarnished by such a scandal. Hearing this, a wild, ecstatic joy surged through me. So my family was that powerful. Powerful enough to casually dismiss the bloodline of the undisputed king of New York’s elite, Alexander Sterling himself. This was… this was perfect. 01 “Monica, hurry and get your sister a glass of water.” “And remember, from now on, you two are sisters. You must be as close as can be, treat each other well, and never let any discord between you become a source of gossip for outsiders.” My mother clutched my hand tightly, her voice heavy with meaning as she instructed the young woman beside me—the one who had been raised in my place. Monica immediately agreed, her face a perfect mask of obedience. My father and brother watched the scene of sisterly affection unfold, nodding in satisfaction. She padded over to the refrigerator, poured a glass of ice water, and carefully presented it to me. “Here you are, sister.” The moment my fingertips brushed against the frigid glass, I recoiled as if burned, a flash of embarrassment on my face. “I’m sorry, Monica… I’m pregnant. I can’t drink anything cold right now.” The smile on Monica’s face froze. Her eyes darted to my stomach with a strange, calculating look. In an instant, the air in the opulent living room seemed to die. My mother’s hand, which had been holding mine with such warmth, snatched away as if she’d touched a viper. A hollow sense of loss I couldn’t quite name began to spread from the pit of my stomach. 02 “You’re… married?” “No.” “Do you have a boyfriend, then?” “No.” “You only just graduated from high school.” “Yes.” “Then who,” my mother’s voice was dangerously low, “is the father?” “I… I don’t know.” 03 After that interrogation, a long, suffocating silence descended. The atmosphere was so heavy with judgment it made me shrink in on myself. Gone was the warmth and passion they’d shown when they first found me. Now, the gazes of my father, my mother, and my brother were like daggers, pinning me to the velvet couch. Only Monica seemed at ease, sitting quietly to the side, idly examining her own perfectly manicured nails. I found myself mesmerized by the simple, graceful movement. After a moment, I subconsciously began to mimic her, twisting my own fingers together. The small act calmed my nerves. I was so focused, I didn’t notice the storm clouds gathering on my family’s faces, their expressions turning darker by the second. Finally, my father broke the silence. His face was a mask of cold fury. “What in God’s name is that supposed to mean?” 04 My mind instantly conjured his image. Aloof and cool, a man of few words but overwhelming intensity… I only knew his first name was Alexander. I had no idea what his last name was. Our meeting, as he put it, was a complete accident. But in my eyes, it was the perfect, cliché, romantic encounter between a bartender and a billionaire. I’d been working a shift at a high-end club in Miami when he, exquisitely handsome and dead drunk, had collapsed into my arms. His hands had begun to wander, lighting fires everywhere they touched. I hadn’t been able to resist. I’d dragged him into the nearest private restroom. I assumed after that one night… we would go our separate ways. But he became a ghost. He started appearing again and again. On my walk home from work. Inside my tiny apartment. In places I never expected. Each time, he would leave his wild, possessive marks all over my body. At first, I was lost in the thrill of it. But soon, I grew afraid. I started trying to avoid him, to hide from him. But he always found me, effortlessly. He would grip my chin, his eyes burning into mine. “Why do you run?” “Aren’t you tired of me yet?” I’d whisper, trembling. He would just laugh, a cold, humorless sound, before pinning me beneath him once more. Thankfully, after a couple of weeks, he finally disappeared. I celebrated for days. I wasn’t an idiot. I had seen his Rolls-Royce, his Bentley, and a garage full of supercars whose names I didn’t even know. One of them, I think, was a Bugatti. His whole demeanor, the quiet confidence that radiated from him, screamed of a world of wealth and power I couldn’t even imagine. A man like that was never meant for someone like me. I had been lucky enough to enjoy his beautiful body for a short time. I was content with that. He’d never given me a dime, so what else was there to do? But then… I found out I was pregnant. I’ll admit, for a fleeting moment, I considered keeping the baby. Boy or girl, I knew my child would be beautiful. How could it not be, with a father that handsome? But I quickly crushed that ridiculous fantasy. This child couldn’t be born. The grandmother who had raised me was gone. How could a single mother with no family and a baby in tow ever hope to find a good husband? My life was just beginning; I didn’t want to make it a struggle. But the thought of his commanding presence, his chilling intensity, his raw, primal nature… it terrified me. What if he found out I’d gotten rid of his child without his permission? The consequences were unimaginable. I was trapped. Finally, mustering every ounce of courage I possessed, I sent him a text. I’m pregnant. Since I couldn’t decide, I would leave the choice to him. Whatever he decided, the blame wouldn’t be on me. Three days passed. He never replied. I cursed him a thousand times in my head. What a classic, heartless bastard. In a fit of anger, I blocked his number and all his social media accounts. A part of me regretted it, but it felt good to have the last word. Just as I was steeling myself to go to the clinic alone, my millionaire parents found me. They told me I was their long-lost daughter. It felt like a miracle. I imagined a new life, a better life. Which brought me to the scene in the living room. I had never intended to hide the pregnancy. When I saw the Mercedes they picked me up in, the magnificent mansion they called home, I knew the Dawsons had to be wealthy. If Alexander ever came looking for me after the abortion, I figured my new powerful family could protect me. 05 I glanced nervously at my father’s stony face, preparing to tell them everything. “Dad, I only know his first name is Alexander.” She doesn’t even know his full name? The disgust in their eyes was a physical blow. I hung my head in shame, my hands twisting in my lap. My mother took a deep, steadying breath. “What do you want to do?” I looked up, my voice urgent. “I want to get rid of it.” The tension in the room instantly evaporated. My father, mother, and brother all let out a collective, relieved sigh. “But…” I began hesitantly. My brother, Mark, cut in impatiently. “But what?” “He’s… he’s a very scary person,” I stammered. “I’m afraid…” Mark cut me off with a scornful laugh. “You grew up in some backwater town. What kind of ‘scary’ person could you possibly have met there?” My mother added proudly, “You’ve just returned, so you don’t understand our family’s standing. Here in New York, aside from a few of the old-money dynasties, there’s no one we need to fear. As long as we have the Sterlings on our side, we’re untouchable.” “Sterling… wait, his last name couldn’t be…” she started, then glanced at me and laughed at her own foolishness. A girl from the sticks and the heir to the Sterling empire? The idea was absurd. I felt their disdain, but it didn’t sting as much as it should have. I was used to it. Growing up, besides my grandmother, no one had ever looked out for me. No one respected me. As long as this new family, for the sake of their reputation, didn’t openly abuse me and gave me some spending money, it was already a thousand times better than my old life. Finally, my father made the decision. “In three days, Mark will take you to the clinic.” “You carry our family’s blood. To be found pregnant out of wedlock right after we bring you home… if word got out, it would be an utter disgrace.” I nodded. “Can’t we go tomorrow?” My father turned away, refusing to even look at me. “We have a major family event in the coming days. You’ll be attending. You’ll understand when you get there.” “Okay, Dad.” A little flutter of excitement went through me. Three more days wouldn’t make a difference. 06 “Mark, how many cars do we have?” I asked, stroking the sleek lines of the sports car in the driveway, my eyes wide with wonder. My brother preened under my admiration. “This one’s mine. A Porsche 718. Cool, right?” “Mom doesn’t like to drive. Dad has a Maybach, and Monica drives a Porsche Panamera. All together, they’re worth a few million.” I put on my most impressed face. “Wow, we’re so rich!” Mark was pleased. “You know, you’ve been behaving yourself these past couple of days. If it weren’t for…” His eyes flickered down to my stomach, and his voice went cold. “Look, when Monica gets tired of her car and wants a new one, I’ll have her give you her old one. You’re my sister, after all. Can’t have you embarrassing me when you go out.” My heart leaped. “Thank you, Mark! You’re the best!” But deep down, a seed of unease was planted. I remembered Alexander’s garage. It seemed… infinitely more impressive than my entire family’s collection combined. Stop it. Don’t think about that deadbeat. Once this baby is gone and I’ve recovered, I just need to be quiet, stay out of the way, and be grateful for the scraps they throw me. It’s better than anything I had before. As for Alexander… he was a world away in Miami. What were the chances he’d ever find me here in New York? Even if his family was richer than mine, what could he do from so far away? 07 Three days later. I was dressed in one of Monica’s old gowns, riding in her white Panamera, on our way to the five-star hotel owned by our family. Monica was breathtaking. A vibrant red couture gown, flawless makeup—she was the center of attention everywhere she went. I, standing beside her, was nothing more than a plain, forgettable shadow. “Honestly, sister, you shouldn’t even be here,” she said, her voice a low murmur. “I’m worried you’ll get nervous and make a fool of yourself. That would be a huge embarrassment for our family.” “But the news that the Dawsons found their real daughter is already out, so you have to make an appearance.” “Just remember,” she instructed, “all you have to do is smile and say as little as possible. The less you say, the fewer mistakes you’ll make. Understand?” I nodded eagerly. “Don’t worry, Monica. I’ll do exactly as you say.” Monica gave me a small, dismissive smile. She was quite pleased with the situation. She had been preparing all sorts of schemes to deal with me, the so-called ‘true heiress,’ but it turned out I had done all the work for her. Showing up pregnant by some nameless man had already destroyed my reputation with our parents. She didn’t have to lift a finger. Yesterday, our parents had assured her that I wouldn’t see a single penny of the Dawson fortune. They would support me for a few years to save face, then marry me off to a suitable business partner with a modest dowry. My return was actually a benefit to her. There was no need to be cruel. What was my name again? Oh, right. Nina. Monica continued to brief me on party etiquette, and I listened intently, trying to memorize every detail. 08 It wasn’t until we arrived that I understood the magnitude of the event. It was the engagement party for the heirs of the two most powerful families in New York. The kind of event that would dominate the society pages for weeks. And it was being held at our hotel. No wonder my father had postponed my trip to the clinic. The entire family had been working around the clock to prepare. As the car pulled up, I stared at the grand, imposing building and sighed. Nina, Nina, you really have the worst luck. To be born into all this and still manage to get lost. I told myself. Now, what wasn’t yours to begin with, you can’t have. Just save up some money, find a nice, normal guy to marry, and build a quiet life. That’s your path. With that thought, I felt a sense of peace settle over me. I consciously lowered my gaze and walked half a step behind Monica. Seeing this, Monica’s red lips curved into a satisfied smile. “Sister, I’ll wire you fifty thousand dollars later. After your procedure tomorrow, buy yourself something nice to help you recover.” “I also have a small apartment in the city. You can have it,” she added generously. “It can be overwhelming at home. If you need some peace and quiet, you can move in anytime.” A genuine, surprised smile bloomed on my face. “Monica, you’re so good to me! It’s a deal!” She seemed even more pleased with my easy compliance.

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Life has entered a countdown, and I’ve started to rot. Giving up the hustle and bustle of the big city, I returned to a small town. I heard from a neighbor that the local police handle a wide range of business. Neighbors can go to them for anything, including collecting bodies and arranging burials. I’m afraid one day I’ll fall asleep and never wake up, and no one will arrange my funeral. Unexpectedly, I went to the police station. And saw my ex-boyfriend who I broke up with six years ago. When enemies meet, their eyes turn red. He didn’t give me a good face and told me to get out. I had no way out, so I could only bite the bullet: “I can’t get out for the time being, can you wait a little longer?” With him around. It will be lively after I die. After all, he said it. The day I get my retribution and die, he will buy fireworks to celebrate. 1 The first day I returned to my hometown. I busied myself tidying up the house. Then I lay in bed waiting for death. Suddenly, a neighbor lady knocked on the door. She brought me homemade pastries. And enthusiastically told me: “Young lady, you are at home alone. If you encounter any trouble, go to the police station at the corner of the street.” “After all, you are a young girl at home, you need to pay more attention to safety. I have Officer Miller’s WeChat. Why don’t you add him? If something happens, you can contact him.” “And you should be about the same age as him. Maybe you can make a good match.” Aunt Zhou covered her mouth and teased. It doesn’t matter if it’s a match or not. Anyway, I only have the last month to live. Don’t delay others. Now I just hope to have someone to help me handle my funeral. After thinking about it, I think this proposal is feasible. Maybe there will be a place to rely on this police officer in the future. Aunt Zhou quickly pushed Officer Miller’s WeChat over. His WeChat profile picture is a girl with her back to the light. Still talking about making a good match. Maybe he already has a girl he likes. I applied to add friends. Soon, the other party sent a question mark. Are police officers so cold nowadays? Looking again, I noticed that I forgot to enter the verification information. I re-entered: “Hello, I’m Chloe Jiang, a resident who just moved back to the small town.” Now, he should agree. However, this time he didn’t reply again. Until the evening, when I almost forgot about this matter. He suddenly said: “What crazy are you sending?” 2 I was stunned. Why did he scold me? I found Aunt Zhou. Confirmed again and again, only to be sure that I didn’t add the wrong person. “Auntie, does this police officer have a bad temper?” “How is it possible? Officer Miller is cold-faced but kind-hearted. When we encounter things, he actively helps.” That’s strange. I didn’t provoke him, why scold me? I patiently explained the reason for adding him as a friend. But he still didn’t reply for a long time. Aunt Zhou gave a solution, “It’s okay, I’m free tomorrow, I’ll take you to get familiar with them. It will be convenient to ask them for help in the future.” The sky darkened. My body can’t stand staying up late. After sincerely thanking her. I went back to wash and rest. But lying in bed, I couldn’t sleep no matter what. My muddled brain was a little confused. The room I live in now is the one I lived in when I was a child. I didn’t tidy up other rooms. Especially Grandma’s room. I couldn’t sleep, tossing and turning in bed. Suddenly, my nose felt a little hot. Reached out and touched it. My finger was stained with sticky blood. I was completely awake at once. By the moonlight coming through the window. I covered my still bleeding nose and struggled to turn over and sit up. I fumbled to the bathroom. Turned on the light only to find that my pajamas had been stained with blood. I familiarly dealt with the bleeding nose. Brain was dizzy for a while. I held onto the washbasin firmly, looking at myself in the mirror. Scattered long hair messily stuck to my face. Face was pale and bloodless. When the dizziness faded, I began to clean up the blood stains on my body. Fortunately, I chose to return to my hometown. Otherwise, if the patients in the hospital saw me like this, they would feel distressed again. They always said that I was young and it was unfair for God to let me get this disease. Subconsciously, they would feel sorry for me and take care of me. I like getting along with them. But I can’t stand the person who was smiling with me the day before. The next day, only a gray cold name remains. So I chose to come back. My head hurt badly, and I couldn’t sleep lying in bed, so I walked to the balcony. Unexpectedly, I saw Aunt Zhou, who went out for a walk after dinner, being sent back limping. I subconsciously wanted to call her. And the man supporting her impressively raised his head. There was a bright street lamp by the road. The light was dazzling. I don’t know if something was wrong with my eyes. I couldn’t see his face clearly. 3 I rubbed my eyes fiercely. He was still standing there. Just in his eyes, perhaps there was disgust and indifference. I shook for a moment. I think, maybe my illness is serious again. I actually saw Lucas Miller. The way he looked at me was just like when we broke up six years ago. With hatred and unwillingness. That day should have been his happiest time. Because he received the admission notice from the National Defense University. He happily came to share the joy with me, but I interrupted his happiness and cruelly said: “Let’s break up.” He was stunned and said in disbelief: “What did you say?” “I said, let’s break up, I’m tired of it, I don’t want to be with you anymore.” He gritted his teeth, his voice trembling: “Chloe Jiang, are you playing for real?” That day, we made it very ugly. Said a lot of heartbreaking words to each other. He is just like now. Looking at my eyes, wishing he could strangle me to death. Reacting over, I realized. The person standing downstairs is really him. Hot sweat emerged from my back. Don’t know why, I felt a little guilty. Fortunately, he didn’t stand long before leaving. I immediately breathed a sigh of relief. My legs were weak. In these six years. I have imagined countless times what it would be like when we meet again. Only didn’t expect it would be like this. 4 The next day, the enthusiastic Aunt Zhou took me to the police station at the corner of the street. She introduced the policemen working here to me one by one. When her eyes stopped on the tall man wearing a blue police uniform. I paused. “Little Jiang, this is Officer Miller I mentioned to you. He is responsible for our area. You can find him if you have anything in the future.” Lucas looked cold and his eyes were unwavering. It was like, it was the first time meeting me. I held out my hand and greeted him, “Hello, Officer Miller.” He looked indifferent, as if saying: What are you pretending. He stood in place, no action. I felt slightly embarrassed and withdrew my hand. Fortunately, Aunt Zhou was coordinating nearby. She mentioned adding friends. Lucas reluctantly took out his mobile phone, but his voice was cold to the extreme, “When you look for me, you’d better have something.” I know. He meant for me not to annoy him like before. I nodded and said sincerely: “Don’t worry, I will only find you when I am about to die.” Otherwise, no one will handle my funeral. Lucas’s fingertips paused slightly, and his eyes were fierce. “Better be like that.” 5 His eyes were like a sharp sword, stabbing me. Didn’t expect that after six years, he still hated me so much. Good, with him around. I’m relieved. After all, he once said. When the day comes that I get my retribution and die, he will set off fireworks to celebrate. In that way, when I leave, it won’t be lonely.

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Four years after my death, my grandmother dug out my old phone and called Sarah Miller. Sarah: “It’s been four whole years, and you finally remembered to call me?” “What, did those sugar mommas run out of money? If you’re broke, go find a few more to sell yourself to. Don’t play pitiful with me.” “I’m telling you, I don’t want to see you for a single second, even if I die!” Grandma on this end of the phone was a bit stunned, her hunched back looking exceptionally lonely. She held the phone and asked cautiously: “Sarah, did you and Liam fight? I can’t find Liam.” After speaking, Grandma’s cloudy eyes looked at the empty room. She murmured as if remembering something: “Right, Liam died, he’s gone. Why did I forget again…” 1 Perhaps because I was worried about Grandma, I stayed by her side after I died. Unfortunately, Grandma had Alzheimer’s and often forgot that I was dead. This time she had another episode, running to the park alone and forgetting the way home. The stubborn little old lady sat on the bench, muttering: “It doesn’t matter if I can’t find the way. When Liam finds out I’m not home, he’ll definitely come out to find me.” My soul guarded Grandma’s side. Even though she wasn’t far from home, because she couldn’t hear me, I couldn’t guide her in the right direction. Seeing the sun about to set, as a soul, I started jumping up and down anxiously. An old lady nearing eighty, if she didn’t go home in time and spent the night alone in the park, she definitely wouldn’t make it. Fortunately, Grandma seemed to realize this too. Seeing the people around her becoming scarcer, she finally stood up. She stepped forward, grabbed a person and asked: “Have you seen my grandson Liam?” I knew that as long as Grandma asked someone, and the other party talked a bit more, they would understand Grandma’s situation and most likely take her to the police station. Once at the police station, Grandma could go home safely. Unfortunately, Grandma asked the wrong person. Because the person she grabbed was Sarah Miller. Sarah looked at Grandma, a hint of impatience in her tone: “Where did Liam go? Why are you here alone?” “It’s so late and he left an old lady like you alone in the park. He must be with…” 2 She didn’t say the last few words, perhaps out of respect for Grandma. But I knew what she meant. She wanted to say, he must be messing around with some wild woman again. See, even though I’ve been dead for four years, this woman hasn’t reduced her disgust for me at all. Grandma didn’t understand her meaning. Seeing Sarah, she was actually very happy. “Sarah, you haven’t been to my house for dinner in a long time. Don’t you like the dumplings Grandma makes the most? Tomorrow is your birthday, come to my house for dumplings.” “You young people should date properly. Liam is good in everything, just likes to hold things in.” “When Liam went out today, he said he was going to buy you a birthday present to give you a surprise tomorrow.” So Grandma’s memory was stuck on this day. At that time, we were still very much in love, inseparable like all couples passionately in love. And her childhood sweetheart hadn’t appeared yet. What a pity. Hearing this, Sarah’s mouth twitched into a sneer: “Grandma, this isn’t funny.” “Liam and I have already broken up.” “You said he went out to buy me a birthday present, I’m afraid he’s buying a birthday present for another woman.” Grandma was stunned: “You broke up? But Liam never told me.” “Sarah, don’t be angry. When Liam comes back, I’ll teach him a lesson!” The little old lady looked adorable when angry. I wanted to hug her and tell her not to be angry, but my body passed through Grandma’s body. It’s been four years, and I still haven’t gotten used to being just a soul. 3 Sarah laughed even harder. Obviously, she didn’t believe Grandma. “I said, we really broke up.” “If these are tricks Liam taught you, I’ll forgive it once.” “Please don’t mention his name in front of me again.” Just then, two ladies from the same neighborhood walked over and looked surprised to see Grandma. “Ma’am, it’s so late, why haven’t you gone back yet? Did you forget where you live again?” After speaking, she clicked her tongue and sighed to the other lady: “Speaking of which, this old lady is pitiful too. She depended on her grandson for survival. Who knew her grandson died four years ago, leaving just this old lady.” Yes, I died four years ago. I remember that birthday four years ago. I went out to buy her a gift full of joy, but saw her walking in pairs with another man in the mall. After walking out despondently, I received a private message from a stranger on social media. Opening it, there was a selfie of a man in a white shirt lying on messy white sheets in a hotel. Beside him, there was an exquisite and conspicuous brooch. Besides the photo, there was a sentence attached: They say childhood sweethearts can’t beat fate. Do you think I, this childhood sweetheart, can beat it? I recognized the brooch; it was the birthday gift I gave her. The reason I remembered so clearly was that although the brooch wasn’t very expensive, I handled everything from design to inlay myself. Sarah never disliked it and wore it even to major meetings. She said that was the symbol of our love. But now, this symbol appeared casually on another man’s bed. Only then did I know that love could be so cheap. 4 Hearing the ladies’ words, Sarah froze all over. Various emotions flashed across her face one after another. Finally, she asked in disbelief: “What did you say? Liam died?” “You’re lying to me, right? Liam must have told you to say this.” “This man is best at sweet talk.” The two ladies were quite shocked, supporting Grandma while muttering: “Who is this? Is she crazy?” “Exactly, who dares to lie about death? Isn’t that cursing people?” Grandma also seemed to remember at this time. She opened her mouth, lips trembling, and finally said: “Yes, Liam… Liam is gone…” Sarah stood there dumbfounded, looking somewhat ridiculous. And my wandering soul followed the two ladies supporting Grandma and floated back home together. I even rejoiced the moment Grandma entered the house, lucky Sarah didn’t follow. Perhaps because remembering my death, Grandma was very sad. The lonely little old lady sat on the sofa, her thin hands stroking my photo, weeping secretly. “Tell me, you boy, so young, why did you leave before Grandma?” I floated over to wipe her tears but missed, so I could only cry and comfort: “Grandma, Liam didn’t leave, Liam is right here.” Unfortunately, Grandma couldn’t hear. The doorbell rang at this time, followed by Sarah’s voice: “Grandma open the door, it’s me, I’m Sarah Miller.” I was shocked. No, can’t open the door for her. If she comes in and finds my old things… 5 I dared not think about the consequences. Grandma was a bit slow. Hearing the doorbell and the call, she turned her head slowly. She seemed to be thinking. Sarah’s voice came from outside the door again: “Grandma, just let me in.” “Liam, I calmed down and thought about it. How could you die? You just want to trick me into coming over.” “I’m here now, what are you pretending for? Open the door!” She banged on the door while pressing the doorbell violently. I was very angry. Her shouting like this would scare Grandma. She wasn’t like this before. Whether to me or Grandma, she would only speak softly, afraid of being too harsh. But now, besides ringing the doorbell, she had started pounding on the door. I was somewhat resentful and rushed to the door to warn her. As a soul, I passed directly through the door. Even if I was fuming, I could only pass through lightly. Because I couldn’t teach Sarah a lesson, I was a bit angry, and finally even cried out of anger. But I was just a soul, and even crying wasn’t as satisfying as before. I shouted angrily: “Yes, I am lying to you. Leave, hurry up and leave, best never come again in this life.” Just as I was losing my temper, a clatter came from inside the house. Afraid something happened to Grandma, I hurried back in. Fortunately, Grandma was sitting safely on the chair, only the photo frame in her hand fell on the floor. Grandma seemed to have just woken up, looking at the photo frame on the floor, bending over to pick it up. Then she held it in her hand, wiping my photo again and again. “Got dirty. Liam liked this photo the most. Luckily it didn’t break.” Yes, this was my favorite photo once. Because this photo was taken for me by Sarah Miller. Actually, I wanted to tell Grandma that this photo is no longer my favorite. My favorite is the photo of you and me by your hand.

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My fiancé broke off our engagement publicly, right in the middle of my grandmother’s birthday gala, because he’d fallen for the cleaning lady. “You’re a socialite, Penny, but that doesn’t make you better than anyone,” he declared. “I love Holly’s pure and gentle soul.” My grandfather, who’d been an occult consultant and geomancy master his whole life, was so enraged he threatened to exhume the Croft family’s ancestral grave plot. The next day, the patriarch of the Croft dynasty arrived with his six other grandsons in tow. He was there to apologize. “My dear girl,” the old man said, sweeping a hand toward the line of impressive young men. “You may choose any one of them. The one you pick will be the next CEO and heir to the Croft legacy.” — 1 “I am here today to break my engagement with Penelope Albright.” Harrison “Harry” Croft stood ramrod straight in a seven-figure bespoke suit, his hand firmly clutching that of a girl in a simple, pressed cleaning uniform. He bellowed the declaration, letting it echo across the ballroom where all the city’s elite had gathered to celebrate my grandmother’s eightieth birthday. The silence that followed was so thick, you could have sliced it with a butter knife. Every guest invited to pay their respects was now gawking at us. “You insolent fool!” My grandfather slammed his palm on the marble table, sending a fine porcelain teacup flying toward Harry. The trajectory was both distant and impeccably aimed. Harry instantly yanked the cleaner girl, Holly Davies, into his embrace and spun them around, taking the brunt of the flying teacup on his tailored back. He shielded her completely, a dramatic gesture of protection. I wanted to point out that the cup would never have hit her in the first place, but he was already turning back. He raised their clasped hands high. “I want everyone here to know, openly and honestly, that the woman I love is Holly Davies,” he announced. “Though Holly comes from humble beginnings, she is not beneath any of us. She is kind, optimistic, and strong. In my heart, she is ten thousand times better than Penelope Albright.” “You… you…” Grandpa was choking on his own fury, his face turning a dangerous shade of crimson. I patted his arm, steadying him, and glared at Harry. “Adultery and homewrecking. Is that what you call ‘honorable’?” Harry looked back at me without a hint of shame, delivering the line that cemented his place as a villain in my personal mythology. “Penny, the person who isn’t loved is the real outsider. Holly is a truly good person, and I won’t let you use that word to defile her.” The girl, Holly, took a step forward, aligning herself with Harry. She puffed out her chest, looking strangely empowered as she addressed me. “Miss Albright, I never intended to ruin a relationship. But Harry doesn’t love you. Even if you hold onto a one-sided arrangement, there is no real love between you two.” Her tone shifted to one of false sincerity. “It’s sad to be used as a tool for a corporate merger. Everyone deserves to be whole and have dignity. I believe that when you find your true happiness, you’ll actually be thankful that Harry and I took this step first.” I was stunned by their audacity. Dignity? They were lecturing me on dignity while standing there in a cheating tableau at my grandmother’s party? “Holly’s right,” Harry interjected. “Even if you married me, I wouldn’t love you. Since you come from a privileged family, enjoying more resources and a better education than most, you should focus on something meaningful—not obsessing over men and calling others ‘home-wreckers.’” I felt the sudden, desperate urge to ask my father if we still had that antique cavalry saber tucked away somewhere in the armory. “Get them out! Throw them out!” Grandpa, all eighty-plus years of him, grabbed a dining chair, ready to charge them himself. My father and uncle managed to restrain him—Grandma’s birthday was decidedly not the time for physical altercations. Finally subdued, Grandpa glowered at Harry. “Mr. Croft’s son, we accept your cancellation of the engagement. As for the matter of disrupting this celebration, I will settle that with your elders!” “There’s no need to use my family to threaten me,” Harry said, arrogant to the last. “The Crofts are the wealthiest family in the state. Anyone marrying in is getting a major upgrade. I am my grandfather’s hand-picked successor. He won’t turn on me for a Wells.” With that, Harry and Holly sauntered out, heads held high. My entire family was incandescent with rage. The remaining guests started whispering. Some even looked at me openly, with a mix of pity and thinly veiled schadenfreude. Grandpa let out a loud, contemptuous “Psh.” He then addressed the room: “Those of you who came only for the Crofts’ sake may leave now.” Faces immediately flushed with awkwardness. Soon, the once-crowded ballroom began to empty. Our family isn’t one of the truly top-tier dynasties; many of the prominent attendees were indeed here to curry favor with the Crofts. The atmosphere now felt like a sudden, humiliating end to a glorious run. Grandpa spat a silent “Psh” in the direction of the departing crowd. 2 Few people knew that the Albright family was, at its core, a lineage of metaphysical masters. Our legitimate businesses were mostly fronts; studying the threads of destiny and manipulating fate required discretion. Those who chose to stay for the sake of an aging matriarch, rather than running after the Crofts, would certainly be remembered by the Wells family. The next morning, Grandma was already orchestrating revenge. She ordered the groundskeepers to water the Croft Group’s corporate ‘four-leaf clover’ with boling water and to secretly steal the prized koi from their reflection pond. Grandpa was in the living room, calculating an auspicious day for maximum disaster, muttering darkly about exhuming the Croft’s ancestral plot. “To provoke a master of fate under his own roof! The Crofts’ luck is officially finished!” he spat, his mustache bristling. “Grandpa, digging up graves is terrible karma,” I intervened. “Maybe just make a voodoo doll of Harry? Something simple, like chronic itching, temporary impotence, and a few broken limbs? That should suffice.” Grandpa’s hand, holding the abacus, trembled. “Daughter,” he decided, looking weary. “Maybe we should just stick to the grave digging.” “Fine by me,” I shrugged. I rushed through breakfast and headed straight to the office. After Harry’s spectacle, I anticipated a flurry of canceled deals. Even though our real revenue stream came from less conventional means, the legitimate business mattered to our employees and their commissions. As I reached the lobby, my assistant, Walter, arrived. “Ms. Albright, you’re in early,” Walter greeted me, looking concerned. “Got to work, Walter. Which projects were flagged for termination? Get the heads of those teams on a call,” I said, walking toward the elevators. “Actually, Ms. Albright, all projects are proceeding normally.” Walter’s worried expression deepened. “After yesterday’s disaster, I expected total chaos, but there’s been zero impact.” Ah, I thought. The Crofts must have been scrambling all night to contain the damage. A very strong survival instinct, I had to admit. “Nothing to worry about then. Inform the teams.” I paused by the elevators, spotting a familiar figure: the same cleaner, Holly, bent over, mopping the floor. “Terminate her employment immediately.” “Yes, Ms. Albright,” Walter confirmed. Holly stood up, her face a mask of wounded shock. “Why? I haven’t done anything wrong here.” I managed a strained smile. “Why the surprise? This is my company. Don’t you recognize your employer?” “Miss Albright.” Holly straightened up, looking pathetically wronged. “I’ve performed all my duties. You are only targeting me because of Harry.” I nearly laughed out loud. “Let me correct you: I’m targeting you because you disrupted my grandmother’s eightieth birthday party.” “I know Harry ending the engagement hurt you deeply. But you can’t bring personal grievances into the workplace. I work hard for my pay. You can’t fire me over private matters.” She looked on the verge of tears. Walter gaped at her, then leaned toward me. “She seems unstable. Should I call security?” “No need. Inform HR to process her termination now.” I turned to press the elevator button. “Miss Albright!” Holly cried out, her voice cracking. “Just because you are a privileged socialite and I am only a cleaner, does that give you the right to trample on my dignity? Cleaners earn their living with their own hands. We are not to be looked down upon.” Walter positioned himself between us, fearing she might lash out. “Ms. Albright, maybe I should call security anyway.” “It’s fine.” I waved Walter back and looked at Holly, the fragile, tenacious flower. “Your liaison with my fiancé and your behavior at the gala have nothing to do with your status as a cleaner.” “So you admit it’s because of Harry!” Excellent point, Walter. “Call security.” “Penelope Albright!” Harry, carrying a cup of coffee and two bagels, rushed in and immediately swept Holly into his embrace. He glared at me. “What did you do to Holly?” 3 I must have murdered their entire family in a previous life to deserve this. The moment Holly saw Harry, the tears started streaming. “Harry, don’t blame Miss Albright. I understand her pain from losing you. I know I shouldn’t be with you, but we have to protect our love.” Harry held her tightly, looking utterly besotted. “Don’t worry, my love. I told you I would handle both the Albright and Croft families. I will never let you suffer any indignity.” Even Walter couldn’t take it anymore. He muttered loudly, “Do either of you possess a single shred of human decency?” Harry ignored Walter completely, addressing me. “Penelope, control your assistant. I fell in love with Holly. She did nothing wrong. If you have an issue, take it up with me.” “Hmph.” I gave him a massive eye-roll. “My assistant, and everyone else in my company, has freedom of speech. I won’t police what they say or whom they criticize. As for you, you piece of stray, cheating filth, if you don’t want to be insulted, take your act elsewhere.” “You!” Harry’s jaw clenched. “Is this just you lashing out because I rejected you?” I wanted to curse his ancestors. Truly, the shameless are invincible. He then sighed dramatically. “I admit I handled this poorly. From now on, I can be like a brother to you. If you ever need anything, you can come to me.” “Spare me. You need to stop grandstanding and start worrying about your own hide. Your grandfather was busy yesterday, but today, you might just lose your legs.” I turned and stepped into the elevator. Harry darted forward and stopped the doors from closing. “What is your problem?” My temper was boiling over. Harry stood in the doorway, striking a pose of haughty superiority. “I told you, I am my grandfather’s successor. Even if I broke the engagement, even if I destroyed the Wells family, he wouldn’t raise a finger against me!” The next second, my stiletto landed squarely on his cheek. “Oops. My mistake. I bought that size too large,” I said dryly, retrieving my shoe and slipping it back on. Holly rushed over, cupping Harry’s face. “Harry, are you okay? Miss Albright is just in so much pain from losing you. That’s why she’s lashing out like this. She’s already suffered enough, please don’t retaliate against her family because of me.” Lock them up together forever. “My car’s outside. I can drive you two to the courthouse right now,” I offered sweetly. “Skip work. Get married.” Harry’s face twisted in conflict. Holly turned to me, her expression conveying a false sense of deep understanding. “Miss Albright, are you truly willing to bless us? I know how much pain you must be hiding.” Why do I always open my big mouth? Thankfully, my grandfather—a true savior when needed—called, demanding I return home immediately. I tossed my day’s agenda to Walter, pushed past the toxic couple, and headed home. Harry’s voice, still shouting something about his “commitment,” followed me. What a jinx. Those two were actively ruining my company’s feng shui. When I arrived home, the living room was already buzzing. The Croft patriarch, Silas Croft, was sitting next to Grandpa. Clearly, the grave-digging plan had been aborted. Given their decades-long relationship, I knew reconciliation was always possible. Standing nearby were six young men: the other Croft grandsons. Ah, he’s brought the whole cavalry. The old man must have been too embarrassed to grovel alone, so he brought a distracting display of handsome youth. There was the one with the wide, powerful shoulders, Nathan (Brother 2). The sharp, dark-browed one, Wesley (Brother 3). The mild-mannered, refined one, Jasper (Brother 4). The most eager, Flynn (Brother 5), spotted me first and chirped, “Sister-in-law!” Snap. Wesley immediately slapped the back of Flynn’s head. Old Man Croft glared, too. So much for being clever. “Are we still having lunch?” I asked, keeping my expression neutral. Old Man Croft gave an uncomfortable chuckle. “Penny, my dear, I promise you, I will make this right. These are our boys. Any one you choose will be the next CEO and heir to our entire family.” I gestured to the baby Nathan was holding. “Does that include the one still on formula?” “Yes!” Silas Croft thumped his chest, looking overly generous. “Even if you wanted all six, I’d grant it. Harry is a fool and doesn’t deserve you. We’ll cut him out.”

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1 Wyatt’s little canary was throwing a tantrum again. He slid the divorce papers across the table to me. “Sign them. It’s just for show, to keep the girl happy.” My fingers tightened on the fabric of my skirt, but I nodded, quietly signing my name. As I was leaving, I heard one of his friends laugh. “Man, your wife is way too agreeable. You could probably ask her to get the marriage license for you and your new girl, and she wouldn’t make a peep.” Wyatt lit a cigarette, a smirk in his voice. “Wanna bet?” They made a wager. That in one month, at City Hall, I would be sobbing my eyes out, but I would still do as I was told. I would trade our marriage certificate for a decree of divorce. I clutched my phone, saying nothing. I just replied to the message that had just come in: Just marry me. Can’t you? “I can.” 2 ? The reply was almost instantaneous. I switched off my phone screen. The sound of laughter still spilled from the office. “Alright, it’s a deal! If she’s really that obedient, drinks for the next month are on me!” “Make it three months,” Wyatt said. “Done, done!” A chorus of laughter and jeers. I fled, stumbling out of the office building and into the sharp, blinding sunlight. Only then did the tears begin to stream down my face. Wyatt had his eyes on a college girl. He bought her a sprawling condo in Seabrook City, filling it with a king’s ransom in luxury goods. But the girl wouldn’t let him kiss her, wouldn’t let him hold her. She lived in a 4,000-square-foot penthouse, draped in haute couture that cost more than a car, and yet she’d jut out her chin and declare, “I will not be a homewrecker!” Wyatt found it endlessly amusing. This was the third time he’d put on a show for her. The first time, he’d staged a grand display of affection with me. I didn’t know about Sadie then. I’d wrapped my arms around him, giddy with joy as we took dozens of photos. When he posted a whole carousel on Instagram, my heart swelled with a mixture of surprise and anticipation. But no matter how many times I refreshed my feed, I couldn’t see it. I found out later he’d set the post’s privacy to ‘Visible only to Sadie.’ The second time, he picked a fight with me. He left me stranded on a street corner and sent Sadie a picture of me crying alone in the rain. See? I’m stuck. She can’t live without me. And the third time, he was divorcing me. My phone buzzed. I pulled it out. Are you serious? You really mean it? Josephine. I wiped away my tears and managed a small, bitter smile. “I’m serious.” 3 That afternoon, Wyatt took me to City Hall, just as he’d planned. He was in a fantastic mood the entire way, chattering about where I wanted to go for our third anniversary. Wyatt and I had grown up together. This was our third year of marriage. “How about Prague?” he suggested. “You’ve been begging to feed the pigeons in the Old Town Square since you were seven.” He got out, walked around to my side, and unbuckled my seatbelt. His brow furrowed as he noticed my face. “Hey, have you been crying?” He gently brushed a thumb under my eye. “I told you, it’s just an act. She’s just a little bird in a cage. I’m just curious to see how long it takes for her to finally give in.” As he spoke, something fell from his pocket. A box of condoms. Wyatt cleared his throat and rubbed his nose, offering no explanation. He led me into City Hall. It all went smoothly. I have selective mutism. When I’m around strangers or under stress, the words just won’t come out. But I can nod and shake my head. “Is this divorce voluntary?” “Yes.” I nodded. “Do you confirm the irretrievable breakdown of the marriage?” “Yes.” I nodded again. “There’s a mandatory thirty-day cooling-off period. You’ll need to return in one month to finalize.” Wyatt took the receipt. He snapped a picture of it before we’d even left the building and tapped out a message. My phone buzzed in sync. It was from Sadie, as usual. A forwarded image of the receipt from Wyatt, with his message attached: Satisfied? Now go get ready for me tonight. I tapped her profile picture and blocked her. A moment later, a flight confirmation email arrived, followed by a text. Flight booked. See you in a month. Paris is waiting. 4 That night, my dreams were full of Wyatt. The Wyatt from our childhood, his words as sweet as honey. “Josie, your eyes are so pretty. Can I look at them whenever I talk to you?” “Josie, you play the piano so beautifully. Can I come listen to your concert every day?” “Josie, I like you the most! When we grow up, I’m going to marry you!” And I loved him, too. We had to be desk partners at school, had to play together after class. I was even in his family’s car when my parents got into their accident, playing rock-paper-scissors with him. The two cars had been so close. I saw it all. The semi-truck barreling through the intersection. BOOM— My father, my mother, my older brother, even the little dog I’d had since I was a puppy… all of them, swallowed by an inferno. For a long time after that, I couldn’t make a sound. I needed Wyatt beside me just to fall asleep. He was so patient back then. He helped me practice speaking, read me stories all night long. If anyone dared to call me a “mute,” he’d meet them with a clenched fist. Marrying him felt like the most natural thing in the world. The day after I got my college diploma, he was leaning over my bed at dawn. “Josie,” he whispered, “let’s go get another certificate.” That day, we became husband and wife. In my dream, our new home was buried in a sea of crimson roses. He knelt on the bed, kissing me with such tenderness. He promised we’d be this happy for the rest of our lives. But when I woke up, the world was pitch black. I fumbled for my phone. Another text from Sadie. It was a photo. Messy, tangled sheets, and on them, a single, damning smear of crimson. A wave of nausea crashed over me. I bolted to the bathroom, retching until only bitter tears came out. I ended up curled on the cold tile, hugging my knees. I don”t know what I pressed on my phone, but in the dead silence of the night, a low, deep voice suddenly spoke. “Josephine?” My heart leaped. I snatched the phone. “Sebastian…?” 5 Sebastian was a fellow patient. After three years of therapy, my selective mutism had improved significantly. It only flared up when I was deeply upset or anxious. During the first two years of my marriage to Wyatt, I was almost completely cured. With time on my hands and a lighter heart, I had joined an online support group. My assigned partner was Sebastian. For two years, I genuinely thought he was a girl. His avatar was a pink bunny, and his screen name was “Angel.” At first, “she” barely responded to me. But I understood. People like us, burdened by years of silence, are often dealing with deep-seated trauma. We might not be able to speak, but we need someone there. So I kept sharing. My daily life, my thoughts, my small joys. I sent texts, then voice notes. Photos, then short videos. Over time, it felt like we were old friends. So much so that the first time we spoke on the phone and I discovered “she” was a man, the shock nearly triggered a relapse. “I… I’m sorry,” I stammered, clutching the phone. “Did I… wake you?” “No,” Sebastian said. “It’s nine p.m. here.” He spoke so fluently now. This was only our second phone call. After learning he was a man, I had deliberately kept my distance. The last time we’d spoken was nearly a month ago. It was pure coincidence. The moment Wyatt handed me the divorce papers, a message from Sebastian had popped up, asking what I was doing. My mind was a blank canvas, wiped clean by the words “divorce papers.” I replied with a single word: Divorce. After signing, I hid in the hallway outside Wyatt’s office, my body wracked with tremors. Sebastian, I think… I think I’m about to lose my home. No father, no mother, no brother, not even my sweet little dog. And now, no Wyatt. What was I going to do? I never expected his reply. Then just marry me. Can’t you? The mocking laughter from inside the office grew louder. “Get real. Josephine wouldn’t know how to function without Wyatt. She’d never actually go through with it.” “Yeah, if she actually had to get a divorce, she’d probably flood City Hall with her tears!” “Is that so?” Wyatt’s voice was a low sneer. He tossed his lighter onto the coffee table. “She could be sobbing her eyes out, and she’d still be my dog. If I tell her to go east, she’ll crawl there on her hands and knees.” I stared through the crack in the door at the man who had become a stranger. Yes. 6 Sebastian sent me a checklist. Things to do within the month. Applying for a visa and finding a lawyer were on it, of course. But it also included a surprisingly long list of must-try restaurants. The Chinese food abroad is terrible. Seriously. I gratefully accepted his advice, eating my way through his list, one restaurant at a time. Being alone wasn’t as hard as I’d imagined. My days were filled with food, shopping, and packing. The day I moved out of our marital home, Wyatt sent me a text. Not even a phone call? Don’t you miss me? He’d taken Sadie on a trip. To “show the girl the world,” he’d said. Naughty, he sent next. Then, a photo. This place is nice. Maybe I’ll bring you here for our anniversary? I wanted to block him, just like I’d blocked Sadie. But I still had to go back to City Hall with him to finalize the divorce, so I held back. Over the next two weeks, I sold off my smaller pieces of jewelry and handbags. I went to the doctor for a check-up and confirmed I wasn’t pregnant. Finally, I gathered all the financial assets Wyatt had entrusted to my care over the years. The night before our appointment at City Hall, Wyatt came back. He called me. “Josie, you moved out?” 7 He was used to my silence on the phone and just chuckled to himself. “Josie, you’re so adorable. I told you it was just an act.” His voice was bright, clearly in a good mood. “Tell you what. Let’s take this act all the way. How about you come with me to City Hall tomorrow and we get the final papers?” I held the phone tightly. “Josie, don’t worry, it’s just…” “Okay,” I said. “Woooooah!” A wave of whoops and hollers erupted from his side of the call. I hung up and texted him the time. The next day, I was up early. Wyatt, however, was late. A faint, but deliberate, bite mark was visible on his lip, no doubt a parting gift from Sadie. He pretended not to notice. I did the same. The process was even quicker than the first time. In and out in five minutes. “Josie, I have a surprise for you tomorrow,” Wyatt said, gently nudging my leg with his foot. I tucked the divorce decree into my purse. “Wyatt, are you free tonight?” I looked at him directly. “There are some things I need to talk to you about.” Wyatt froze. Ever since we were married, I had only ever called him “honey.” A moment later, his charming eyes curved into a smile as he tapped the red document in his hand. “Sure.”

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My boyfriend was diagnosed with Dissociative Identity Disorder. When he “switched,” a new personality would take over and date other women. But every time he “woke up,” he’d be consumed with guilt, threatening self-harm or suicide because he felt so sorry for hurting me. My heart broke for his trauma, so I forgave him every time. I worked three jobs, saving every penny to afford the best psychiatrists for him. Until one day, I ran into him at a hotpot restaurant. From the private room next door, I heard his voice loud and clear, laughing. “I should go to Hollywood, honestly. Get myself an Oscar.” “My acting was too real. Hazel is such an idiot, she actually believes I have DID. Do you know how hard it is not to laugh in her face?” It turns out he wasn’t the sick one. I was. I was blind. It took me five years to realize I was loving a monster. 1 The hotpot place was packed on the weekend. I rubbed my aching back, just catching my breath when my manager, Sarah, told me we were short-staffed and needed help in the front. I agreed and pushed through the curtain. Immediately, I heard familiar male voices. “Caleb, does your girlfriend actually buy that crap?” “Bro, we saw it with our own eyes! Caleb just puts on that sad puppy face, maybe cuts his finger a little, and that woman loses her mind. She’d practically die for him!” “Dating his first love while keeping the girlfriend on the hook… we all need to take notes from Caleb.” I hid around the corner, unconsciously rubbing my wrinkled, water-logged hands. My heart plummeted. Amidst the laughter, I heard his voice. “I should go to Hollywood, honestly. Get myself an Oscar.” “My acting was too real. Hazel is such an idiot, she actually believes I have DID. Do you know how hard it is not to laugh in her face?” His tone was pure, unadulterated smugness. In front of me, he was always insecure, sensitive, and fragile. I never imagined he had this side. “You’re ruthless, man. Hazel really loves you.” “Oh, what do you know! If it wasn’t for her, Caleb and Luna wouldn’t have wasted so many years apart due to a misunderstanding. Now that the true queen is back, we gotta support our boy!” Caleb’s face was obscured by the steam from the pot. After a pause, I heard his low chuckle. “Whatever you say.” A customer nearby needed the bill. I led them to the counter. When I returned, there was a woman at their table. Big waves, off-the-shoulder sweater, fashionable and dazzling. I recognized her instantly. Caleb’s first love. Luna. She was standing in front of him, greeting everyone with a smile. When the guys called her “Sister-in-law,” Luna blushed and looked at the man beside her. Her tone was half-annoyed, half-shy: “Caleb, aren’t you going to correct them? They’re just calling me whatever they want.” Caleb smirked. “Their mouths are on their faces. I can’t control them.” Seeing Luna’s shyness, someone teased, “Caleb gave us the green light, so just accept it, sis!” “Yeah, Caleb even got a fake psych eval for you. If that’s not love, what is?” Under the cheers, the two locked eyes. Luna lifted her delicate face. “What about her? What are you going to do?” Caleb gently tied her hair back with a hair tie, raising an eyebrow. “You know where my heart is.” “Yes, she stayed by my side when my family fell apart, but that doesn’t mean anything. You can’t confuse gratitude with love.” “And I was selfish. We missed out on so many years because of her.” “So, I planned to break up with her on her birthday. Let her hit rock bottom and really feel what it’s like to lose everything.” “You’re so bad.” Luna laughed, playfully hitting his chest before leaning into his embrace. The atmosphere was thick with flirtation. And I stood in the middle of the bustling hall, staring at their backs, feeling cold to my bones. 2 “But I can’t wait. I came to find you the moment I got back to the States. You want me to wait until her birthday?” “I don’t care. Call her and dump her right now.” Caleb laughed, pinching the cheek of the whining woman, utterly doting. “I know you’re anxious, but what if she keeps clinging to me? I need to make her give up completely. Only then can I properly visit your parents.” Luna pushed his hand away, suspicious. “What if she keeps clinging? You won’t go soft, will you?” “After all, she suffered with you. Don’t they say men never forget the woman who was there at rock bottom?” Caleb tapped her forehead lightly. “Silly. Has anyone ever told you that most men don’t want their beloved to see them at their most pathetic?” “Really?” “Of course. I worked hard to build my career just so I could get your family’s approval when you came back.” “I heard you say the food abroad sucked, so I picked this hotpot place specially. You love spicy food, right? I can’t bear to see you hungry. Here, eat first. I’ll agree to anything you want later.” Caleb thoughtfully served food onto Luna’s plate. A guy at the table dropped his chopsticks and yelled, “Waiter! Need new chopsticks!” Everyone else was busy, so Sarah shouted my name. “Hazel! Go handle Table 10!” The guy’s face changed when he saw me. He winked frantically at the person across from him. When I walked over with the chopsticks, everyone froze. Caleb reacted first. He looked at me with confusion. “Why are you staring at me? Do we know each other?” Old trick. Every time he “switched,” he pretended not to know me. I tried to stay calm, but my eyes grew hot. “I heard everything.” “Is it fun, pretending to be sick to trick me?” The man in front of me darkened, pursing his lips into silence. Luna, on the other hand, looked me up and down and sneered. “Five years, and you haven’t improved at all. He even made up such a ridiculous lie to fool you, and you were stupid enough to believe it.” I glanced at my uniform, stained with water from washing dishes. My throat burned. “What right do you have to judge me? I made money to treat his illness. You were the one who abandoned him back then.” Hearing this, Caleb pulled a pale Luna behind him. He narrowed his eyes at me. “Get this straight, Hazel. I never asked you to be nice to me. You did all that because you wanted to.” “Do you really think my breakup with Luna had nothing to do with you?” “You thought you were protecting me, but you made me lose what mattered most. You forced Luna away.” “You stole five years from us.” I stood frozen, the chopsticks slipping from my hand and clattering to the floor. Caleb avoided my gaze, his tone flat. “I’ll pay you back for everything you spent. As for your birthday, I’ll still…” I cut him off. “Do it early.” Caleb paused, looking confused. “Do what early?” “I know what you planned for my birthday. Break up early. Today.” Caleb stared at me for a long time, then chuckled. “You said it. Don’t regret it tomorrow.” There was a hint of anger in his voice. I blinked away the tears to see his face clearly. “Yeah. That’s it.” I turned around, briefly explained the situation to Sarah, and fled the scene. I didn’t notice the gaze glued to my back as I left. 3 Actually, I should have noticed sooner. His premeditated departure was evident everywhere. While packing, I found a pile of empty picture frames in the closet. Some were dusty, some moldy. After five years together, Caleb and I didn’t have a single photo together. I was a photographer. Cameras were everywhere. But he never gave me the chance. “I hate photos. I’m just not photogenic.” “Babe, I want our first photo to be our wedding photo.” He had so many excuses. Back then, overwhelmed by love, I never questioned the truth behind them. Not worth it. Not necessary. I remembered our graduation photo from years ago. Caleb blushing, squeezing next to Luna. Love and indifference are so obvious. Suffocation clawed at my chest. I stumbled to the living room, grabbed a bottle of pills from the coffee table, and swallowed a fluoxetine with trembling hands. I slid down to the carpet. Soon, the side effects hit. I rushed to the bathroom and vomited until I was weak. Standing up, I looked in the mirror. Pale, haggard, tear-stained. No different from years ago. I was born into an unhappy family. Parents divorced early, dad left for work, and I lived with my aunt and uncle. Living under someone else’s roof, I survived by reading people’s moods. But I remembered my grandma’s words: education changes fate. So I endured until high school. I consistently ranked in the top ten, but secretly, I envied one person. Luna, from Class 8. She taught me how different destinies could be. Beautiful, rich, with tutors for every subject. It seemed she could have anything she wanted with a wave of her hand. Two people from different worlds. But in our senior year, we intersected. Because of Caleb. I first met him in a secluded corner of our complex’s garden. A thin boy sitting under a flower bed, covered in bruises, face swollen. Yet he smiled and said: “This is my turf. You gotta pay the toll to stay.” I searched my pockets and found a pack of band-aids. He looked up at me, eyes black as ink. After a long pause, he took them. After that, whenever I ran away to hide there, I’d find Caleb. I learned he was like me. Maybe even worse. Alcoholic dad, gambling mom. Full debuff build. “We’re really brothers in misery.” I froze, then held his bony hand. The warmth stayed with me. I thought we were just similar souls. I never thought he’d save me. One weekend, my uncle picked me up. As soon as we got out of the car, he dragged me into the woods. When he yanked my pants down, I screamed. Caleb appeared out of nowhere, tackling my uncle and beating him bloody. After returning from the police station, he got beaten by his dad and ended up in the hospital. After that, we bonded. He told me to protect myself, at least until graduation. But four months before the entrance exams, something happened to him. The teacher thought he and Luna were dating and called the parents. It blew up. Luna was taken home by her family and never came back. That night, police and ambulances swarmed our complex. Caleb’s mom was carried out covered in blood. His dad was arrested. When I found him the next day, he was lying in bed next to an empty pill bottle. After he survived, I hugged him and cried. “If you want, I’ll be your family from now on.” He agreed. As my boyfriend. I thought two broken hearts could heal each other. But now I realize: during all those years I looked forward to our future, he was counting down the days until he could leave me. 4 But Luna was wrong about one thing. I didn’t believe Caleb’s lies because I was stupid. I believed him because I was sick too. So I could empathize with the mental torture. It wasn’t strange for someone like Caleb, with his traumatic childhood, to develop mental illness after witnessing his parents destroy each other. The first time he “switched,” his acting wasn’t even good. Thinking back, the woman I saw him meeting looked a lot like Luna. Probably her sister. When he came back, he rushed into the shower like he’d just woken up from a nightmare. He stayed in there forever. When I went in, his wrists were covered in scratches. He knelt on the floor, face full of panic and pain. “Hazel, am I sick? I don’t know why I met that woman.” “I don’t like anyone else. Don’t be mad, don’t leave me, okay?” The tears in his eyes and the red water at his feet blurred my vision. My crumbling spirit rebuilt itself into pity. So later, when he used other women as a cover, I forgave him every time. He was actually meeting Luna’s sister most of the time. Keeping in touch. Only I was the fool. I believed the fake diagnosis. I read books on DID, researched pathology, worked three jobs to save for his treatment. I wanted him to get better. But now I realize the boy who once stood in front of me has rotted to the core. I washed my face with cold water. The daze faded. Strength returned to my limbs. When the movers arrived, I had packed everything and left it in the hallway. Only his laptop remained in the study. When I moved it, I knocked over the desk calendar. A photo fell out. A yellowed graduation photo, cropped to show only Caleb and Luna smiling. My scalp tingled. The dull ache in my chest slowed. Steadying my trembling hands, I put the photo back. I turned and left the place I once called “home.” In my daze, my mind was sharp. I remembered the doctor’s words: Humans are social animals. Especially me. You have to save yourself. So I decided to move into my friend’s apartment. Reconnecting with people, I forced myself to forget the mess. When my friend Lily heard about the breakup, she encouraged me: “Unlucky in love, lucky in money. Hazel, I believe in you.” While helping me move, she saw my portfolio. That night, she invited me to join her company. “I wanted to ask before, but I thought you were too busy. Are you sure you don’t need a break?” I smiled. “I’m sure. Say the word, I’ll be there tomorrow.” Only by staying busy, by exhausting my body, could I stop the depression from drowning me at night. Looking back, I am incredibly grateful for that decision.

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“The first name on the layoff list was mine.” Helen from HR slid the paper across the desk toward me. Her nail tapped the surface. “Lydia, just sign it. We’re giving you N+1 months’ pay. It’s more than fair.” I glanced down. Employee ID 0217, Lydia. Position: Highly replaceable. The project was worth over a million dollars. I had written all 470,000 lines of code myself. “Okay.” I picked up the pen and signed my name. Helen blinked, probably surprised by how easily I agreed. “Well… about the handover. Please get it done as soon as possible.” “Okay.” I stood up and smiled. What she didn’t know was this: all the code was on my machine. The variable names were in abbreviated Spanish. The comments were lines from obscure poetry. 1. When I joined the company three years ago, there were only two people on this project team. Me and Mark. Back then, Mark wasn’t the team lead. Our desks were next to each other. He handled the front-end, and I handled the back-end. The project was called the “CloudStow Warehouse System,” a major contract for the company. The client was the largest logistics firm in the region, and the deal was worth just over a million dollars. “Lydia, how’s your Java?” That was the first thing Mark ever asked me. “It’s alright.” “How alright is ‘alright’?” I thought for a moment. “I’ve probably written around two hundred thousand lines.” Mark’s eyes lit up. “Great. You take the core modules.” “And you?” “I’ll handle the product meetings, nail down the requirements.” At the time, it seemed perfect. He wasn’t great at coding, and I wasn’t great at dealing with people. We complemented each other. It was only later I understood that “complementing each other” was just another way of saying: you do the work, he takes the credit. In the first month, I wrote thirty thousand lines of code. Mark wrote a PowerPoint deck. The first slide read: CloudStow System Technical Architecture Report — Mark. I asked him, “Shouldn’t my name be on there too?” Mark said, “You’re so good at coding, the execs will definitely remember you. The PowerPoint is just a formality.” I believed him. The second month, the CTO came to check on our progress. Mark stood in front of the projector, speaking with animated enthusiasm. He threw around terms like “architecture decoupling,” “high-availability design,” and “microservices decomposition.” He said the words more smoothly than I ever could. When he finished, the CTO nodded. “Good work, Mark.” Then he turned to him. “Do you need more people on the technical side?” Mark said, “No need. I can handle it.” I was sitting right there. The CTO didn’t even glance in my direction. At the time, I thought, It’s fine. I’m a tech person. I don’t need the spotlight. As long as the code is good, that’s what matters. Looking back, I was so naive. The third month, the team expanded. Two new graduates joined us. HR told me, “Lydia, you’re our best developer. Could you mentor the new hires?” I said sure. Their names were Sam and Rick. Fresh out of college, they still had that spark in their eyes. Sam asked me, “Lydia, are you the lead on this project? The code is beautiful.” I smiled. “Not the lead. It’s a team effort.” “But I checked the Git history. You made 80% of the commits.” Mark happened to be walking by and overheard. He clapped Sam on the shoulder. “A lot of commits doesn’t mean a lot of contribution, understand? Writing code is the basic work. The hard part is the architectural design and project management.” Sam looked at him, then back at me, and didn’t say another word. The fourth month, the project went live. During the client acceptance meeting, Mark wore a suit and stood at the head of the conference room, confidently addressing a room full of people. I was in my plaid shirt, sitting in the back row, debugging the system. The client asked, “What happens if we see a huge spike in concurrent users?” Mark replied, “Don’t worry, we’ve implemented a comprehensive load-balancing design.” The client asked again, “What’s the data backup strategy?” Mark said, “Incremental backups with off-site disaster recovery.” Every single term he used was something I had written in the technical documentation. The night we got sign-off, the department went out for dinner. Our director raised his glass. “For this project, Mark’s contribution was indispensable.” Mark lifted his glass, all humility. “It was mainly good teamwork. I just did a bit of coordination.” No one mentioned my name. I drank a lot that night. On the way home, my roommate asked, “Why so much to drink? Did you get a promotion?” “No.” “A raise?” “No.” “Then what are you celebrating?” I stood under a streetlight, looking at my own shadow. “I don’t know.” The fifth month, the company went through a reorganization. Mark was promoted to team lead. The reason given was his “outstanding performance and management potential demonstrated on the CloudStow project.” He got his own office, a better desk, and an extra five hundred dollars a month in a management stipend. I was still in the same corner, at a desk not much bigger than an intern’s. HR sat me down for my annual review. “Lydia, your salary increase this year is 3%.” I asked, “What about Mark?” HR paused. “I’m… not at liberty to disclose that.” I later heard from Sam that Mark got a 12% raise. I wrote 80% of the code and got a 3% raise. He wrote 100% of the PowerPoints and got a 12% raise. Seemed fair. The sixth month, another new grad, Chris, joined. HR told me, “Lydia, you’re on.” So I mentored him. The first day, I showed him how to set up his development environment. The second day, I taught him how to read the codebase. The third day, he asked me, “Lydia, how much do you make?” I said, “Why do you ask?” “My offer was for $95k. I’m just curious what I can expect to make after three years.” I went quiet for a moment. I made $92k. A fresh graduate was making more than me. That night, for the first time, I couldn’t sleep. At three in the morning, staring at the ceiling, I asked myself: What am I even doing this for? I was the best programmer. I wrote the most code. I mentored the most people. But when it came to promotions, I was overlooked. For raises, I was forgotten. They didn’t even invite me to the team-building events. I remembered the team outing last week. Sam posted pictures on Instagram. A dozen people from the department at a barbecue joint in the countryside. Mark had his arm around a new intern, smiling broadly. I asked Mark about it. “Why wasn’t I invited to the team thing?” Mark said, “Weren’t you fixing that bug? I figured you were busy, so I didn’t want to bother you.” “Just let me know next time.” “Sure, sure. Next time, definitely.” Next time was always next time. 2. The seventh month was the annual performance review. Everyone had to write a year-end summary and present it to the entire department for ten minutes. I wrote an 8-slide deck. CloudStow Warehouse System core module development. 470,000 lines of code. 127 version iterations. 120,000 average daily orders processed. Mark wrote a 35-slide deck. The title was: From 0 to 1: How I Led a Team to Deliver a Million-Dollar Project. He stood on the stage, his delivery full of passion and emotion. “When this project first started, there were only two of us. Me and Lydia.” He said my name. I was a little surprised. “Lydia was responsible for the foundational code implementation, while I was responsible for the overall technical architecture and project management.” Foundational code implementation. He called 470,000 lines of code “foundational code implementation.” He continued, “We faced many challenges, but under my coordination, the team overcame every hurdle, one by one.” He said “my coordination” five times. He said “team collaboration” three times. He never mentioned my name again. The CTO listened, then nodded. “Mark, your management skills have improved significantly.” Then it was my turn. I stood on stage and got through my 8 slides in four minutes. The CTO asked, “Lydia, how are the coding standards?” I said, “Every function is commented, and all naming conventions follow camel case.” The CTO asked again, “What about unit test coverage?” I said, “82%.” The CTO nodded and said nothing more. When the final performance ratings came out, Mark got an ‘A’. I got a ‘B+’. “Lydia, your annual bonus multiplier is 1.2,” HR said. “And Mark’s?” HR didn’t answer. I found out later that Mark’s multiplier was 2.5. My bonus was $18,000. His was $50,000. Same project, same department, same year. He got $32,000 more than I did. That night, I sat alone at my desk until 11 PM. Sam messaged me. “Lydia, why are you still here?” I replied, “Fixing a bug.” “What bug?” “A bug in my head.” Sam sent back a question mark. I didn’t reply. The eighth month, the system had a major crash. At two in the morning, the client called. Thirty thousand orders had vanished from the database. My phone blew up. Mark called me: “Lydia, figure out what’s wrong!” The client called me: “Lydia, can the data be recovered?” The CTO called me: “This is a production incident! It has to be solved tonight!” I crawled out of bed and opened my laptop. I went through the logs line by line, checked the code block by block. At 3:30 AM, I found the cause. It was a configuration file Mark had changed last week. He’d entered the wrong parameter for the database connection pool. I took a screenshot, ready to post it in the group chat. Then I hesitated and deleted it. I spent the next two hours writing a data recovery script, pulling all thirty thousand orders from the backup database. At 5:30 AM, the data was fully restored. I messaged Mark: “It’s fixed.” He replied instantly: “Great! Thanks for your hard work.” Then he sent a message to the group chat: “Good morning, leadership. The incident from last night has been resolved. After investigation, it was a configuration conflict caused by a temporary server expansion. Lydia and I have completed the data recovery work together. We will optimize our deployment process to prevent similar issues in the future.” “Lydia and I together.” I had worked alone for three and a half hours. He had slept through the night. He called that “together.” The next day, the CTO praised him in the main company chat: “Regarding last night’s incident, Mark’s handling was decisive and minimized the losses.” Mark replied: “It was all thanks to great teamwork.” No one asked who was the person writing code at three in the morning. I sat at my desk, reading the messages, and suddenly felt so tired. Not physically tired. It was the kind of exhaustion that leaves a hollow space in your chest. Sam quietly asked me, “Lydia, why didn’t you tell them you did it all by yourself?” I said, “What good would that do?” “At least… management would know.” “And then what?” Sam fell silent. 3. The ninth month, a new project manager joined the company. Her name was Sarah. She was in her mid-thirties and had previously worked at a major tech firm. On her first day, she came over to talk to me. “You’re Lydia, right? I heard you wrote the CloudStow system.” I said, “Not just me. It was a team effort.” “I looked at the Git history. 80% of it is you.” I was taken aback. She smiled. “I judge people by their work, not their PowerPoints.” In that moment, I felt like I was going to cry. Three years. For the first time, someone actually saw me. But Sarah was just a project manager. She had no say in the engineering department. The tenth month, Phase Two of the CloudStow project was kicking off. The client added another $200,000 to the budget for a new intelligent scheduling system. In the planning meeting, Mark beat his chest. “My team can do this. Give me three months.” The CTO asked, “Who’s handling the technical design?” Mark said, “I’ll oversee it, and Lydia will be responsible for the specific implementation.” There it was again. He oversees, I implement. He presents, I work overtime. I said nothing. Back at my desk, I started writing the technical design document. Two weeks later, it was done. 42 pages. Mark glanced at it. “Looks good. I’ll just add some management perspective and then run it by the CTO.” His “management perspective” was changing “Lydia will be responsible for development” to “The technical team will be responsible for development.” And adding his name to the cover. I didn’t say a word. The eleventh month, Phase Two development was in full swing. That month, I worked 120 hours of overtime. An average of four extra hours every single day. My longest stretch was 38 consecutive hours. I slept on a cot at the office. And how many hours did Mark work? Eight. All of them were spent taking clients out to dinner. At the end of the month, the CTO came to check on our progress. Mark opened the Jira board. “Sir, as you can see, all tasks are proceeding according to plan.” The CTO asked, “Who wrote the algorithm for the intelligent scheduling?” Mark said, “I designed the framework, and the team implemented it together.” I sat nearby, typing on my keyboard, not saying a single word. The CTO glanced at me. “Lydia, how’s the coding coming along?” I said, “The core module is 80% complete.” “And the quality?” “Unit test coverage is at 85%. No production bugs so far.” The CTO nodded, saying nothing more. Then he looked back at Mark. “Mark, I’m recommending you for this year’s Employee of the Year award.” Mark smiled humbly. “Thank you, sir. It’s really all thanks to the team’s hard work.” That night, I sat alone at a convenience store downstairs until one in the morning. I bought a can of beer but never opened it. 4. The twelfth month, the year-end layoff list was released. Two spots from the engineering department. HR called me in for a talk. “Lydia, the company isn’t doing well right now, as you know.” “Are you saying you’re laying me off?” “It’s not a layoff, it’s a workforce optimization. We’re giving you N+1 months’ pay. It’s more than fair.” I looked at her face and suddenly wanted to laugh. “Why me?” “Lydia, it’s a tough economic climate. The company has no choice.” “I’m asking, why me.” HR hesitated. “Your position has been deemed… highly replaceable.” Highly replaceable. 470,000 lines of code. A million-dollar project. I was the only person in the entire company who could maintain it. “Highly replaceable.” “Who said that?” HR didn’t answer. She didn’t have to. I knew who it was. I went to find Mark. He was in his office, staring at his computer. I knocked. “Mark.” He looked up. His face held an expression I couldn’t quite place. “Lydia. You heard?” “I want to know why it was me.” Mark sighed, putting on a show of reluctance. “Lydia, I didn’t make the list. It came from upper management.” “Who submitted the recommendation list?” He was silent for a second. “It was a departmental discussion.” “And the result of this discussion was to lay off the person who wrote 80% of the code?” Mark’s tone shifted. “Lydia, don’t try to take all the credit. The code is a team product, not your personal achievement.” I stared into his eyes. “Then what about the team lead position? The 12% raise? The ‘A’ performance rating? Was that the team’s, or was it just yours?” He didn’t speak. “Three years, Mark. I was the one working overtime. I was the one fixing the bugs. I was the one writing the code. But the credit was yours, the bonus was yours, and the promotion was yours.” “And now, the layoff is mine.” Mark leaned back in his chair, his voice turning cold. “Lydia, I know you feel it’s unfair. But have you ever considered why you ended up in this position?” “Go on.” “Because you don’t know how to sell yourself.” He looked at me, enunciating every word. “What good is writing great code if management never sees it? Did you really think you could get promoted just by keeping your head down and working? You’re too naive.” “In this industry, there are tons of people who can do the work. The hard part? It’s making people see your value.” He stood up and patted my shoulder. “Lydia, I’m telling you this for your own good. You have the skills, but your communication, your presentation abilities… they need work.” I pushed his hand away. “Are you finished, Mark?” “Yes.” “Then let me tell you something.” I looked him straight in the eye, my voice perfectly calm. “The core code of the CloudStow system has no useful documentation.”

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The cold medicine Kellan gave me was burning a hole in my gut. Victoria, the eldest, a Chief of Surgery known as “The Top Scalpel of Manhattan,” declared I needed an immediate stomach pump. Aaliyah, my childhood sweetheart and fiancée, was screaming, her voice raw. “I just want my husband back!” My three sisters’ eyes were raw with unshed tears. “It’s okay, Dev. Sleep it off. We have the best doctors and the best meds right here.” In that moment of searing, agonizing pain, I was overwhelmingly grateful that the people who loved me were all around me. Then, as I waited for the anesthesia to kick in, I heard their voices just outside the door. Victoria’s tone carried a chilling, almost excited edge. “Devon is perfectly healthy, and his blood type and age are an exact match. This is a rare opportunity. We’ll just perform the heart transplant for Kellan while we’re at it.” Sasha, the CEO, agreed immediately. “I’ll make sure all the evidence is destroyed. Devon won’t ever know.” Elise, the pharmaceutical professor, chimed in, her voice clinical. “I’ll go back to the lab and formulate a highly potent suppressant. It will ensure Devon doesn’t suffer when we replace the faulty heart.” A long moment of silence passed before Aaliyah’s voice, thick with relief, cut through the quiet. “Kellan genuinely needs a strong heart to achieve his music dreams, and as for Devon… we can just shower him with compensation later… I’ll sign the surgical consent form now.” I felt as if my entire body had been plunged into an icy bath. My chest constricted, a phantom pain that felt as if someone had already gutted me and brutally ripped the organ out. At that moment, a familiar yet strangely detached electronic voice cut in: [ALERT! Monitoring a threat to the Host’s life force!] [Final confirmation: Are you truly willing to forfeit all rewards and remain in this world?] I laughed, a silent, internal sob. This time, their counterfeit love couldn’t hold me here anymore. … I tried to thrash and roll off the bed, but the nurse expertly shoved the intubation tube down my throat and nose as a massive dose of anesthetic flooded my system. Before my consciousness completely fractured into darkness, I saw him being wheeled in: Kellan, the cherished adopted younger brother who had poisoned me—my heart failure was meant to be his salvation. Victoria, scalpel in hand, gave the nurses a chilling instruction. “Forget about Devon for now. Prep his heart for Kellan’s transplant.” I felt the knife’s edge bite through layers of tissue, and in my last fragment of wakefulness, I heard Tori’s murmur. “Just hold on, Kellan. When you wake up, you’ll finally be able to shine on stage.” When I regained lucidity, my first thought was to confirm with the System. [If my physical body dies, I return to my original world, my heart condition cured, and I get a hundred million dollars, right?] [Confirmed.] The bitter irony of it was hilarious. I had agreed to cross over and “save” these four women fifteen years ago because I couldn’t afford to treat my own congenital heart disease. And now, the four women I spent fifteen years saving were trading my heart out for a sick one. I didn’t hesitate. I ripped the oxygen tube from my face. Breathing instantly became a desperate, agonizing struggle. My throat tightened as if it were being choked, and no amount of air would reach my lungs. My face went purple; I was seconds from suffocation. Yet, a faint, peaceful smile touched my lips. Death was a blessing. I wouldn’t have to live another day facing their exquisite lie of love. The heart monitor screamed a frantic, piercing alarm. My three sisters and Aaliyah burst through the door with a team of nurses. “Devon!” they screamed. Tori immediately performed CPR, saving my life. Once the oxygen mask was back in place, her eyes were bloodshot as she roared. “Are you insane? Why would you pull out your oxygen tube?” Aaliyah knelt by the bed, tears streaming down her face as she slapped herself repeatedly. “Blame me, Devon. It was my fault. I asked Kellan to bring you the medicine that day.” “I thought it was just for your cold. I didn’t realize you were severely allergic and that the toxins attacked your heart directly.” “But don’t worry, darling. Tori is the best doctor in the country. She’ll fix you.” She crawled toward me on her knees, desperately gripping my hand. “I’ve already had the consulting doctor punished—she’s been blacklisted from the industry. Don’t blame Kellan, and don’t do this to yourself. You have so many people who love you!” Seeing my silence, Sasha spoke, her voice strained. “She’s right, Dev. I’ve already contacted every hospital overseas. We’ll find a suitable donor heart for you, fast.” Elise gently patted my arm. “I’m heading back to the lab now. I’ll develop a customized treatment plan that will have you breathing easy and back to normal soon.” I felt a profound, chilling cold. How utterly pathetic. They thought a few flimsy lies would erase the fact that Kellan poisoned me, that they planned to steal my heart, and that they had already begun the surgical process. A mocking smile stretched across my lips as I looked at the four women surrounding my bed. “Where is Kellan? I want to ask him myself.” Tori’s brows furrowed. “You’re still going to blame Kellan? He had a massive heart episode from the guilt, and we barely saved him by rushing to find an emergency donor.” Elise, who had doted on me the most since I was a child, rushed to intervene. “Sweetheart, stop this now. Focus on getting well. Tori saved Kellan; she’ll fix you too.” I let out a soft, dry laugh. “How convenient. Surgery at the same time, my heart fails, and Kellan just happened to find a donor?” The room fell into a heavy, dead silence. “Devon…” Tori began, her face unreadable. I was too exhausted for their lies. I forced another small smile. “Just kidding. Go check on Kellan. I’m happy he’s better, too.” My sisters froze, wanting to argue, but I simply pulled the blanket over my head. When I uncovered my face, the sisters were gone, but Aaliyah remained, her eyes filled with guilt. I smiled blandly. “Go check on him for me, please. Tell me how my little brother is doing when you get back.” She finally turned and left, her steps quick and decisive. Finally alone, I slowly exhaled. My hand trembled as I unlocked my phone. Before the surgery, I had used the single wish the System owed me to retrieve two video clips. I watched the clips, my gaze fixed on the screen, compulsively replaying the moment they conspired to replace my heart. I watched Tori’s cold, professional removal of my heart and its careful placement into Kellan. The blood in my veins ran ice cold. I felt a sudden, fierce gratitude that I hadn’t died just yet. Because leaving them this easily would be too kind. During my hospitalization, they ensured one of them was with me every day, but they’d always rush off. I assumed they were truly busy. One day, needing the restroom, I found myself unattended. I unhooked my IV stand and slowly shuffled toward the bathroom. Passing a room, I glanced through the window and saw Aaliyah, who had rushed off to a crucial board meeting, carefully feeding a gourmet potsticker to Kellan. My three “swamped” sisters were also there, watching him with indulgent smiles. Tori’s voice, though firm, was loving. “Kellan, you can’t pig out just because you’re recovering. Those potstickers are too rich.” Kellan playfully tugged on her pristine lab coat and whined sweetly. “I can’t help it! Sasha’s cooking is the best.” He then complained. “It’s annoying having all of you hovering around me every day. I can’t even sneak any extra treats.” I dug my nails into my palm, forcing a self-deprecating smile. I had been eating bland, takeout congee for days. Kellan was getting gourmet meals, personally cooked by Sasha, surrounded by all of them. I turned stiffly to return to my room, only to overhear a hushed conversation between two nurses outside the station. “I heard the Maxwells’ actual son is the one I’m taking care of. Doctor Maxwell is ruthless—she specifically told me to keep him on a strict regimen of nutrient injections. She’s keeping him healthy to use as a walking blood bank, in case Master Kellan has a severe rejection reaction and needs a full-body blood exchange.” I froze mid-step. The incisions on my chest and abdomen felt like they were tearing open again. The pain was paralyzing. How did it come to this? I remember a time when a simple scrape would send Tori into a panic. She had gone to medical school specifically to ensure she could take better care of me. Sasha and Elise were no different. When I first arrived, my health was frail, and I was constantly sick. When I was near death once, they had walked up the steps of the city’s grandest cathedral on their knees, praying for my health and offering massive charitable donations for good karma. After I recovered, Sasha, who had been an aimless socialite, plunged into the business world, desperately building a fortune to pay for my treatments. Elise abandoned her art studies and switched to pharmacology, aiming to formulate a better, less bitter medication for me. To accrue more good fortune, they even rescued Aaliyah Stone, a brilliant but penniless orphan caught in a blizzard, and brought her into our lives. The entire city knew that Devon Maxwell was born under a lucky star, having three sisters who worshipped the ground he walked on and Aaliyah, the tech prodigy, who was his devoted fiancée. As an orphan, I had desperately clung to this overwhelming, intoxicating affection. After completing the System’s mission to “save” them, I refused the reward, choosing to stay with my sisters and Aaliyah. But then Kellan arrived. The day they brought him home, my three sisters hugged me and swore. “Devon, he just looks so much like Dad, and he has the same heart defect. We can’t just ignore him.” “Don’t worry, sweetheart. We’re adopting him to bring you good karma. You’re still our one and only center of the universe.” I believed them. I genuinely wanted to embrace him. To show my goodwill, I gave him my room. I always reminded the sisters to bring him a gift when they traveled. Feeling bad that his heart condition kept him from doing much, I even brought him along on most of Aaliyah’s and my dates. Gradually, Kellan cemented his place in the family. He’d proactively charm the sisters for favors and gifts. He’d playfully bicker with Aaliyah. But slowly, subtly, their attitude toward me began to shift. If Kellan stumbled near me, Tori would immediately snap, “Did you hurt Kellan?” Sasha, on the rare occasion she cooked, made only Kellan’s favorite spicy Sichuan dishes. Elise’s research priority shifted to creating a miracle cure for Kellan’s heart. Even Aaliyah, during an argument, snapped. “Why can’t you be more like your brother and just ask me for what you want?” And finally… they conspired to steal my heart for him. The emotional swell of pain returned, and it felt like my heart was being scooped out all over again. I wanted to escape the house of horrors, but moving too fast, I slipped. The surgical wounds on my chest and stomach tore open. In the blinding agony, I curled into a ball. My mind fractured, and I let out a desperate, instinctive whimper. “Sister…” Just before I blacked out, I saw my sisters and Aaliyah rushing toward me. Tori reached me first, hoisting me up, her voice sharp with anger. “Devon Maxwell! Did you see us with Kellan and decide to hurt yourself again just to get attention?!” I was discharged and placed under strict watch by a home nurse, forbidden from leaving or doing anything to harm myself. I was confined to a wheelchair, too weak to move, and dependent on help even for the bathroom. Meanwhile, Kellan was running and jumping with abandon. Aaliyah held her phone, taking a video of him. My sisters watched him, their faces glowing with proud, affectionate smiles. Bored and heavy-hearted, I tried to wheel myself away. “Ouch!” Thump. Kellan fell. “Kellan!” The four women rushed to him, helping him up immediately. He pointed a finger at a small metal lock that had fallen from my wheelchair onto the floor, his voice thick with tears. “Brother, I know you blame me for the medicine, and I know you’re jealous that my heart is fixed while yours is still failing, but…” He burst into sobs. “But I’m finally able to move around! How could you throw something down to trip me on purpose?” Tori quickly examined Kellan’s leg, gently rubbing his slightly scraped skin. Sasha’s face turned an ugly shade of gray, a vein throbbing in her forehead. “Devon Maxwell! What have we taught you? How could you become so malicious?” The others glared at me, their faces a mix of confusion and pure rage. My fractured heart felt like it had been stabbed twice more. I whispered. “I… I didn’t! That piece fell off the wheel yesterday…” “Don’t you dare try to lie your way out of this! We’ve indulged you too much!” Sasha’s fury was overwhelming. She raised her hand to strike me. Just as her hand flew toward my face, Aaliyah stepped in to block it. “Sasha, Devon has been through so much trauma lately. We need to give him time.” Elise pulled Sasha back gently. “Let it go. Kellan, didn’t you want to try that new French bistro? Let’s take you out to celebrate your recovery.” Her eyes turned cold as she looked at me. “As for you, go reflect on your behavior!” Aaliyah tried to stay, but Kellan rushed up and grabbed her hand right in front of me, shaking it pleadingly. “Aaliyah, please come with me! You promised to take me out to dinner if I was brave enough for the surgery!” Aaliyah’s face tightened. “I need to stay with your brother… he…” I stared at their hands, subtly intertwined, and spoke, my voice hoarse. “Since your brother wants you to go, then go.” Aaliyah patted my head gently. “I’ll be back soon, darling. Be good at home. I’ll bring you your favorite lobster bisque.” But I woke up at 3 AM. The side of the bed was empty. Aaliyah had not returned all night. The mansion was dark, except for the dim light spilling from Kellan’s room. His door was slightly ajar. As I wheeled closer, I heard a man’s and a woman’s voice. Aaliyah’s voice was low and breathless. “Easy, baby. Not so fast. You’re still recovering…” Kellan’s voice, thick with emotion, cut in. “My heart is fixed now. When are you finally going to divorce him? I met you first! You were always mine!” Aaliyah’s soft, velvety murmur followed. “You’re my true love, baby. But… Devon saved my life. I can’t abandon him, and besides, Tori needs his blood in case you have a rejection reaction.” I felt a bucket of ice water poured over my head, the chill sinking to my bones. My hand shook as I clutched my phone, leaning my head back against the cold wall, my eyes closed. The entire night, I listened to them—the laughter, the breathless entanglement, the declarations of twisted love. The next morning, my three sisters were about to leave for work and saw me leaning against Kellan’s door. “Devon, why are you out here?” I beckoned them closer, then burst into Kellan’s room. As the three sisters gasped in astonishment, I tore the duvet from the bed and took several rapid-fire photos of the two people naked and entangled beneath it. Aaliyah screamed, scrambling to cover Kellan, her face a mask of terror. “Devon Maxwell! What in God’s name are you doing!” I clutched my chest, gasping for air, and hissed. “What am I doing? What do you call lying naked in bed with my brother, my wife?” Aaliyah’s face changed. “Last night… there was a storm. Kellan was scared and asked me to stay.” Kellan’s face was deathly white. He wrapped the duvet around himself and knelt on the floor, grabbing my sleeve. “Brother, I’m so sorry. I was just… too terrified last night, so I reached out to Aaliyah.” Tori immediately pulled him up. “Aaliyah must have been drinking last night and walked into the wrong room by mistake.” Sasha instantly backed her up. “It’s normal. When Kellan was little and afraid, I used to sleep in his room, too.” I slowly turned to Elise. She laughed nervously. “They’re right, Dev. Kellan would never do this.” Why were they so blindly biased toward Kellan? I was shaking with helpless rage. I raised my phone. “I have the audio of your glorious night right here. Shall I play it for my sisters?” Kellan stared at the phone in horror, then suddenly turned pale, gasping for breath. “Sister… I can’t breathe.” “You are not going to fake it!” SMACK! Tori’s palm connected hard with my face, sending me sprawling to the floor. I covered my stinging cheek, looking up at Tori in disbelief. “Why are you looking at me like that? If you hadn’t agitated him, Kellan wouldn’t have collapsed!” She rushed Kellan to the family emergency room. “Hurry! Bring Devon in, too! We need his blood to save Kellan now!” Sasha and Elise dragged me into the sterile room. Panic washed over me. I thrashed and shivered uncontrollably, kicking my legs and trying to crawl backward. “Please, no… don’t…” Aaliyah held the large-gauge syringe, her expression unsettled. “Kellan is like this because you provoked him. Isn’t it the least you can do to give him some blood?” Sasha and Elise held me down tightly. Looking into their resolute, cold eyes, I realized the struggle was pointless. I closed my eyes in resignation and slowly extended my arm. My voice was quiet. “Take it. Draw every last drop from my body. Save your precious Kellan.” Elise quickly averted her gaze, covering my eyes. Her voice was weak. “Be a good boy, Devon. Just a little blood. It won’t hurt.” An hour later, Tori stabilized Kellan. The four women sighed in collective relief. Tori removed her mask, her voice cutting and cold. “Alright, Devon Maxwell. Now we can properly address the matter of you intentionally causing Kellan to collapse.” She turned to face me—and all four of them stopped dead. I was curled up on the adjacent gurney, unmoving. A surgical scalpel was plunged deep into my chest. The gushing blood had soaked the sheets and stained the clean tile floor crimson.

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