Category: English

The day he cut off my father’s hand was my birthday. Sebastian Croft did it right in front of me. When my father’s men retaliated, taking his leg, Sebastian just looked up, his smile stained crimson in the moonlight. “Kill me,” he dared them, his voice a rasp. “Because if you leave me breathing, the next time he lays a hand on her, I’ll take his other goddamn leg myself. Try me.” From that day on, my stepfather never touched me again. Sebastian said gardenias shouldn’t be stained with blood. He took the knife from my hand and, with one clean stroke, severed my father’s illegitimate sons from their inheritance. Everyone says Sebastian Croft is drenched in blood. But he never let a single drop touch his wife. Only I knew the truth. Only I had seen the thousand-plus pages of his private journals, where one name was written over and over, an obsessive prayer. The name of a woman as pure and flawless as a gardenia. The day I threw my wedding ring at his feet, he looked as if he’d been woken from a long dream. He lit the journals on fire, his laughter laced with a sorrow so deep it was terrifying. “Don’t worry,” he said, the pages curling into black ash. “She and I… that ship sailed a long time ago.” I slid the divorce papers across the table. “It can sail back.” He laughed and tore them to shreds. “For you and me, Audrina? It’s one bed for life, one coffin for eternity.” 1 The divorce papers burned, too. So that was it. For me and Sebastian Croft, it was one bed for life, one coffin for eternity. Even in death, our caskets would be pried open just enough to face each other, the first and last thing we’d ever see. The only thing we’d ever see. It was the vow we’d made at our wedding. He walked away, grinding the ashes of my petition under his heel without a backward glance. The next time I saw him was on the evening news. It was a night dark as ink, pouring rain, and against the gloom, a girl on a flight of steps was the only spot of white in the entire world. White dress, pale skin. A natural blush dusting the corners of her eyes. The moment the camera flash went off, Sebastian yanked her into his arms, pulling her under the umbrella so forcefully that only his own jawline was visible. That, and the girl’s bare legs as he swept her up onto his hip. He never allowed his face to be photographed by the press. And he sure as hell wasn’t going to let them get a picture of his girl. Because he knew I’d be looking. Even from that fleeting glimpse, I got the screenshot. I sent it to my people. But there was nothing. Not a single face in any global database matched the girl. The best they could find was a potential student ID photo from an Ivy League university, but her face was obscured by a thick black redaction bar. Sebastian was protecting her. When I went back to find a replay of the news segment, it was gone. Scrubbed from the internet. All I had left was that one screenshot. The image of a girl with fear shimmering in her eyes, staring at the camera like a fawn caught in headlights as she burrowed into Sebastian’s chest. The veins on the back of Sebastian’s hand were bulging. I’d only ever seen him hold a woman that tightly twice. The first time was after our rivals murdered my mother and my uncles, dumping their bodies in the river. I was the one who dragged them out, one by one, from the bloody water. As the sun set, turning the sky to gore, the boy standing on the bank had held me just like that. He’d pressed his body against mine again and again, trying to warm my frozen limbs, his tears streaming as he begged me not to close my eyes. The second time was now, in front of a camera, terrified that the girl in his arms would be exposed. That she would fall into my hands. When he finally came home, I slid the photo across the marble tabletop. It stopped right in front of him. I sat opposite, staring out the window, and blew a slow, deliberate ring of smoke. “It’s never going to happen between her and me,” he said, his voice flat. He palmed the photograph, hiding it from view. I asked only one question. “The journal. A thousand pages. Who was she, and when?” “You don’t want to know.” His tone was devoid of any emotion. Moonlight spilled across the marble, but it couldn’t illuminate the expressions on our faces. The only sounds were the soft rustle of new divorce papers being pushed toward him, followed by the sharp, metallic click of a round being chambered. I lit another cigarette, the brief flare of the lighter catching my face. “Sign it.” A gust of wind billowed the curtains, scattering the papers. In the next instant, he was on me, his hand tearing at the silk of my dress. The fabric ripped away, revealing the gleam of moonlight on my polished steel prosthesis. “Audrina.” He plucked the cigarette from my lips. The silver of our two artificial limbs reflected the same cold light. “There is no one else on this earth,” he murmured, his voice low and intense, “who is a better match for you and me.” Sebastian didn’t sign the papers. For the next week, there wasn’t a single new lead on the girl. Only a name, gleaned from the charred remnants of his journal. Stella. But the girl herself couldn’t wait. She showed up at my door. Same white dress, same pale skin as the photograph. But this time, the natural blush at her eyes was overshadowed by the angry red love bites scattered across her neck and chest. “I’m pregnant,” she announced, her delicate hand resting on a barely-there swell. “It’s his.” My pen stopped moving across the financial report. She sat down in the visitor’s chair opposite my desk as if she owned the place. “You’ve probably seen the news. And you must know my name was in his journals long before he ever met you. He loves me, not you. If you can’t accept that, I’ll just have my private medical team move in here. With me being pregnant, who do you think Sebastian will kick out, Audrina? You, or me?” The heavy chair hit the floor with a muffled thud. The only sounds that followed were the girl’s gasp and the sharp, clean crack of my palm against her cheek. “You hit me!” Her eyes, already pink-tinged, went crimson with shock and disbelief. I smiled. Sebastian had kept her so well protected. This fall, this slap… it was probably the worst thing that had ever happened to her. “No wonder you had the guts to show up here alone,” I said, advancing on her. She scrambled backward on the floor, terror finally dawning in her eyes. “No… stay away!” Her whimper struck a nerve. I loomed over her, watching the tears well up, and suddenly, the overwhelming sense of familiarity I’d felt since she walked in clicked into place. She was me. She was the eighteen-year-old me, the girl in the blood-soaked white dress, stumbling to the ground, begging them to stay away on the day my family was slaughtered. “Ah!” I grabbed a fistful of her hair, and her scream was a perfect echo of my own from all those years ago. The motion pulled her head back, exposing the delicate skin of her neck. And the butterfly-shaped birthmark, clear as day. Sebastian… he’d found another me.

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Ten years. Ten years of living in a different city—a different world—from my husband, and we still couldn’t have the one thing we wanted most: a child. To finally make my husband’s long-held dream of being a father come true, I did the unthinkable. At the absolute peak of my career, I quit. I walked away from it all to come home, to him. But the moment I pushed open the door to our house, a seven-year-old boy, a miniature version of my husband, came laughing and barreling out into the hall. My heart stopped. I grabbed the arm of the cleaning lady who was passing by, my voice tight. “Excuse me, is this the Walker residence? Eric Walker’s house?” “It is,” she said, her eyes flicking to the gifts in my hands. “I hear his wife bought him the house. Everyone on the block knows it.” She smiled warmly. “Are you here for the party? They’re celebrating some good news.” 1. My eyes drifted past her to the backyard, where I saw a woman with a swollen, pregnant belly. The little boy who looked so much like Eric ran laughing toward her. In a flash, Eric’s face tightened with alarm and he lunged forward. Just as the boy was about to collide with the woman, Eric threw out his arms, catching his reckless son. “Leo, you’re about to be a big brother, and you’re still acting like this? What if you’d hurt your mom and the baby?” The boy made a face, grinning. “But I want a little sister.” Eric ruffled his son’s hair, the affection in his eyes so thick it practically spilled over. Eric’s parents hurried over, gently scolding the boy. “You can’t be so rough from now on, sweetie. You could have caused a terrible accident.” I stood frozen, watching this perfect picture of a happy family, and the cold truth finally dawned on me. They all knew. They all knew about this little family, and I was the only one left in the dark. But… every time I came home, he was always so passionate, as if we were newlyweds. He’d hold me until dawn, whispering how much he’d missed me. Because of that, even after eight years without a child, I never questioned us. I never once doubted his love. Before I boarded my flight, I’d texted him that I had a surprise. He’d replied, “Can’t wait.” That was only a few hours ago. How could everything have changed so completely? My gaze found Eric. His eyes scanned my face for a long moment before landing on the gift box still clutched in my hand. His voice was a raw, barely audible rasp. “What are you doing back?” He saw me staring at the pregnant woman beside him and quickly dropped the hand that had been resting on her waist. Suddenly, all the small, ignored details from our eight-year marriage exploded in my mind. The way he’d always cut our video calls short, blaming a bad connection. The gifts I’d sent home, always returned with the excuse that “the storage closets are full.” The way he’d shot down my idea to take a vacation last month, insisting that “work is just too crazy right now.” “A surprise,” I said, my lips pulling into a grim parody of a smile. My throat felt like sandpaper. “Weren’t you the one who said you couldn’t wait?” The woman took half a step forward, subtly positioning herself in front of him. “Excuse me, do we know each other?” I ignored her, my eyes glued to Eric’s face. “Aren’t you going to introduce us?” Eric snapped out of his trance, forcing a brittle smile. “This is Claire,” he said. “The mother of my children.” He then gestured toward me, and for a split second, he hesitated. I didn’t give him the chance to lie. I held out my hand. “I’m Mia. Eric’s wife.” Claire didn’t move. My hand hung there, stiff and awkward in the cold air between us. The color drained from Eric’s face. He tugged at Claire’s sleeve. “Mom, Dad, why don’t you take Leo inside?” Claire gave me a long, meaningful look as Eric’s parents quickly ushered the boy away, their coaxing voices fading into the house. Once they were gone, Eric’s entire demeanor shifted. His eyes reddened, and his face crumpled with a look of profound betrayal. “Why would you just show up like this? Are you checking up on me?” I held myself together, my voice miraculously steady. “I quit my job.” Eric’s head snapped up. “What?” I knew exactly what that “what” meant. My salary, earned from years of grinding away overseas, was more than enough to support his entire family in luxury. My quitting meant that lavish lifestyle was over. It meant the gravy train had come to a screeching halt. I had given up years of progress, my entire network, to come back and start from scratch. For years, he’d grown accustomed to a life of ease funded by my hard work. Now, facing a sudden fall from that paradise, he couldn’t handle it. “You always said I didn’t spend enough time with you,” I said, the words tasting like ash. “So I quit. I gave up everything over there because I thought we could finally start our life together, for real.” “I wanted to tell you the good news in person, so I came straight from the airport with your gifts.” It was as if he was only just now noticing the pile of shopping bags at my feet. I had rushed here, not even stopping for a sip of water, and my clothes were damp with sweat. He beckoned to a housekeeper I didn’t recognize, a flicker of guilt in his voice. “Could you help take these gifts inside? And show… show this lady to a guest room.” He turned back to me, avoiding my eyes. “I’m taking Claire for a check-up. Just tell the housekeeper what you want for dinner.” And with that, he guided Claire out the door, as if this whole catastrophic reveal had never happened. As if he owed me, his actual wife, no explanation at all. I watched them go, a lump forming in my throat. This was my house. He was my husband. Those were my in-laws. But here I was, being sent to a guest room. An intruder in my own home. I couldn’t help but wonder… if our baby had survived all those years ago, would our family have been this happy, this whole? 2. Getting married to Eric had been a dream. Everything was so easy, so perfect. From meeting his parents to the engagement party, they had always looked at me with such genuine approval, telling everyone how lucky their son was to have found such a hardworking, dedicated woman. I still remember my first time at their house. Eric’s father, after three glasses of whiskey, had clapped me on the shoulder and boomed, “Mia, you marrying our Eric means you’re our daughter now. We’ll treat you like our own.” Back then, Eric was always by my side, his eyes filled with a nervous energy as he’d try to block me from drinking too much, secretly squeezing my hand under the table and mouthing, “Take it easy.” He told me he loved quiet, peaceful places, so I took all my savings and bought this sprawling house, a place worth millions. Eric was ecstatic. He insisted on decorating it exactly how I liked. I didn’t really care about the details, so I let him have free rein. But he involved me in everything. He ran around tirelessly, picking out deep blue curtains because he knew it was my favorite color, insisting on a durable gray couch, and even choosing the wedding photo for the main wall—the one where he said I had the goofiest, most beautiful smile. “This is our home now,” he’d said, his fingers tracing the edge of the picture frame, his eyes shining. “Once you’re settled in your job overseas, I’ll come join you.” But when I finally secured a permanent contract with the company, he changed his tune. “My parents are getting older, Mia. If I leave, there’ll be no one to look after them,” he’d said over a crackling phone line. “Besides, I just got promoted to department head. It’s a terrible time to quit. Just wait a little longer. I’ll come over as soon as I finish this big project.” And I believed him. I used to think that distance was no match for love, that as long as our hearts were connected, we could overcome anything. I threw myself into my work, sending him the majority of my paycheck so he could buy supplements for his parents and nice clothes for himself. Every time he received the money, he’d laugh and say, “It’s more than enough,” but then a package would arrive at my apartment with cured sausages from our hometown. “Don’t you dare neglect yourself out there,” the note would read. Thinking back on it now, maybe he wasn’t the one who made them. Just like his “bad connection” during our video calls was probably just an excuse to hide the sound of a crying baby. And the gifts I sent, returned because the “storage closets are full,” weren’t full at all—he just didn’t want another woman’s belongings in his house. Even every rushed “I miss you” might not have been born from longing, but from a desperate need to cover something up. I stood in the living room of my own house, staring at the large family portrait hanging on the wall. Eric was leaning against Claire, and their son, Leo, sat between them. All three were smiling, their happiness a blinding glare. The frame holding the picture was the birthday gift I had sent him last year. He’d told me it was “too expensive, too precious to use.” It wasn’t that he couldn’t bear to use it. He just didn’t want a gift from me hanging in their home. Footsteps echoed on the stairs. Eric’s mother came down carrying a platter of fruit, her smile strained. “Mia, dear, have some fruit. It’s all your old favorites.” I didn’t move. I looked her straight in the eye. “Leo… is he Eric’s son?” I wasn’t blind. I knew the answer. But a weak, cowardly part of me still wanted to believe that all those beautiful memories weren’t just a carefully constructed lie, a performance put on by his entire family just for me. Her hand trembled, and a grape rolled off the plate, tumbling onto the floor. She scrambled to pick it up, her voice muffled. “The children… they’re both very well-behaved…” I closed my eyes. “He’s seven.” The pain was like a fist squeezing my heart. “That means he was born the year after I went abroad.” She froze, her head snapping up. The panic in her eyes was impossible to hide. “Mia, let me explain…” “Explain what?” I laughed, a tight, strangled sound. “Explain how your entire family lied to me for eight years while I worked myself to the bone, sending my money back like an idiot to support another woman’s husband and child? Or explain who he was thinking of every time I came home and he held me, telling me he loved me?” Eric’s father emerged from his study and pulled his wife behind him, his face stern. “Mia, it’s too late for all that now. Eric can’t live like this anymore. You two… you should just get a divorce.” “A divorce?” I repeated the word, a bitter taste in my mouth. I suddenly remembered my wedding day, eight years ago, when this same man had stood before me, smiling, and said, “You take good care of my boy.” How could a heart change so much in just eight years? “Claire was Eric’s high school sweetheart,” his father said with a sigh, his tone laced with a bizarre sort of sympathy. “After you went abroad, Eric was all alone, and he went through a lot. Claire was the one who was there for him. They… they couldn’t help it.” Couldn’t help it? And what about me? All my struggles abroad, all the sleepless nights, all the days and years I spent counting down until I could come home—what was all that for? I snatched a fruit knife from the table, not to hurt anyone, but just to have something solid to grip. The cold steel bit into my palm, but it did nothing to quell the fire raging inside me. Just then, the sound of a car engine cut through the silence from the garden. Eric and Claire were back. 3. They walked into the living room, and Claire’s face went white when she saw the knife in my hand. “Mia, what are you doing?” Eric immediately stepped in front of her, his brow furrowed. “Let’s just talk, okay? Don’t scare Claire.” “Scare her?” I looked at her swollen belly, and the whole scene felt like a twisted, surreal nightmare. “Don’t you think I’m the one who should be scared?” I turned my glare back to him. “Eric, tell me, in all these eight years, was there ever a single second you felt even a shred of guilt?” He bit his lip, tears welling in his eyes. “I’m sorry…” “And that’s it? ‘Sorry’ makes it all go away?” I slammed the knife down on the coffee table. The sharp clang echoed in the tense silence. “I quit my job, threw away my future, and came back to build a home with you, only to find out you’ve been playing house with someone else for eight years! What did you take me for, Eric?” Leo came running down the stairs, saw the knife, and burst into tears, throwing himself into Eric’s arms and crying for his mom. Eric hugged the boy, his back to me, his shoulders shaking as he gently patted his son’s back. Claire walked over and slid a document in front of me. “There’s a saying, Mia. The one who isn’t loved is the third wheel. This is a divorce agreement. Let’s just end this gracefully.” I didn’t even glance at the papers. My eyes were fixed on Eric’s back. He never turned around. So those nights that felt like a second honeymoon were just an act. That “can’t wait” text was probably meant for Claire, sent to me by mistake. I was a clown, performing in his twisted play for eight years, only realizing I’d been written out of the script when I finally pushed open the door myself. The gift box I’d been holding had fallen to the floor at some point. The necklace inside had spilled out, its diamonds catching the light with a cold, indifferent sparkle. I had gone to three different jewelers to find it, a piece that was supposed to bring good luck. I heard the sound of paper being ripped, followed by what sounded like a slap. Then came Eric’s broken, desperate cry. “Who said anything about a divorce? Since when do you get to make decisions in this house?!” He screamed my name, his voice thick with tears. I felt dazed, turning and walking toward the door, leaving the wreckage behind me. Some debts can’t be settled with a simple “I’m sorry.” And some homes, once shattered, can never be put back together. 4. I went to my mom’s house. I’d been away for so long that my rare visits home were mostly spent with Eric. My parents, always so understanding, would tell me, “You have so little time. Of course you should be with your husband.” Looking at the gray that now peppered their hair, I was struck by the sudden, painful realization that I had been a terrible daughter. I had poured all my money, my love, and my energy into Eric and my career, rarely sparing a thought for them. I tried to pull myself together, to act like nothing was wrong. But my mom saw through it instantly. “Did you and Eric have a fight? You haven’t been home in so long, honey. Why would you argue now?” she murmured, her brow furrowed with worry. “Men have their pride. Don’t be too hard on him. It hasn’t been easy for him either, waiting all these years.” My dad came out of the kitchen, wiping his hands on his apron. “Alright, let her be. The girl just got home. Let’s have a nice meal, get some rest. Whatever it is, it can wait.” He looked at me, his eyes soft. “She’s tired and hungry. Don’t pester her.” Their gentle words were the final straw. The dam inside me broke. As I served myself rice, tears began to fall, one after another, splashing onto the table. Dinner was silent after that. Neither of them asked another question. They just kept quietly placing more food on my plate. That night, lying in my old bed, I could hear them talking through the thin walls of the old house. “Go buy her favorite snacks tomorrow,” my dad said. “Good food and a full stomach can solve half of life’s problems.” “I’ll talk to Eric,” my mom replied. “Married couples fight. It’s never as serious as it seems. They’ll make up.” I curled up under the covers, a fresh wave of tears soaking my pillow. If Eric had just told me he didn’t love me anymore, I would have let go. I wasn’t the type to cling. But he hadn’t. He and his entire family had conspired to build a separate life in the house I paid for, right under my nose. I tossed and turned, sleep eluding me until the early hours of the morning. I was jolted awake by the sound of cheerful laughter from the living room. It sounded like… Eric. Dazed, I scrambled out of bed and threw open my door. And there he was. Eric, sitting on my parents’ couch with Claire and their son. How dare he? How dare he bring his mistress and his illegitimate child into my parents’ home? My chest tightened, and I couldn’t breathe. Before I could say a word, Eric spoke, his voice breezy and casual. “You’re awake! We were just saying, with Claire due any day now, maybe we should work on giving you two a playmate. It would be nice for them to be in-laws, right? We all know each other so well.” He even had the audacity to wink at me. My mouth opened, but no words came out. What could I say? Could I call him a liar in front of my parents? Tell them that Leo wasn’t just Claire’s son, but my husband’s too? Tell them that my perfect husband had cheated on me the year after we were married? How could I possibly… I had to admit, Eric knew me perfectly. He had me completely trapped. I looked around the room. Everyone was smiling, laughing, a perfect portrait of familial bliss. Everyone except me. I was an outsider, separated from their happiness by an invisible wall. Claire smiled sweetly at my parents. “Mia has always been so busy with her career, flying everywhere. I already told Eric, when Mia has her own baby, I’ll be there to help take care of everything. You two won’t have to worry about a thing.” She looked at me, her eyes glinting with a hidden, mocking light, and I suddenly felt exhausted. If the rest of my life was going to be this charade, then I wanted out. Now. I took a deep breath. “Well, I don’t think we’ll be in-laws, seeing as the two children are—” Before I could finish, Eric shot up from the couch and grabbed my arm. “Mia, didn’t you say you were taking Claire to her appointment? We’re going to be late. Mom, Dad, we’ll be back soon. You guys chat.”

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In the third year of the Scorch, the ozone layer had vanished, forcing all of humanity into the subterranean Citadel. As a primary investor in the Citadel, my husband and I lived on the privileged Level Two. Then one day, he brought a girl back from the Warrens of Level Three, a fragile thing wasting away from sickness. “Rory,” he said, his voice urgent as he rushed past me, the girl cradled in his arms. “Life on Level Three is brutal. Anya is sick. I couldn’t just leave her to die.” I watched him go, my gaze dropping to the polished floor. “You haven’t forgotten the population caps, have you?” I reminded him quietly. “Level Two has strict limits. One resident per registered slot.” He didn’t even spare me a glance, his tone dripping with self-righteousness. “I know. That’s why you’ll have to take Anya’s place in the Warrens for a while. Just until she’s better. Then I’ll bring you back.” The words hit me like a physical blow. I stood frozen, rooted to the spot. Once he had disappeared into the guest room, I stepped out onto our private balcony, my hand trembling as I dialed the secure line to Level One. “I’ve made my decision,” I said, my voice shaking despite my best efforts. “I want to join the Apocalypse Recovery Project.” … 1 The voice on the other end was electric with excitement. “Aurora, that’s fantastic news! Level One needs talent like yours!” The Citadel was a three-tiered world. Level One was the top-secret heart of the Citadel, home to our best scientists and engineers, the core of our entire civilization, completely sealed off from the rest. Level Two was the residential zone for the Citadel’s founders and benefactors. And Level Three, over the years, had degenerated into the Warrens—the Citadel’s dark, lawless underbelly. I had just hung up when Lucas emerged from the room. He rubbed his temples, a weary look on his face. “Anya’s very ill. She needs medical supplies, urgently.” “So what are you going to do?” I asked without turning, terrified that if I faced him, the tears would finally fall. Lucas’s voice was low, determined. “Cure her, of course. Whatever it takes. I’ve already called for a doctor.” Three years into the Scorch, medical resources were more precious than gold. Each family was allotted only one doctor’s visit per year. A month ago, when my own fever had spiked to 104 degrees, leaving me dizzy and seeing black spots, I’d gritted my teeth and endured it, unwilling to use our one chance. But now, for a girl he just met, Lucas was squandering it without a second thought. He was completely oblivious to the storm raging inside me. “Rory,” he said, his tone still maddeningly calm, “I’ve arranged for a transport. They’ll be here in three days to take you to the Warrens to assume Anya’s residency slot.” I squeezed my eyes shut. When I turned to face him, my fingertips darted to the corner of my eye, swiping away a single, traitorous tear. “Lucas, did you even think about me in all of this?” His response was just as cold. “Rory, you know I can’t stand by and watch someone suffer. It’s not who I am.” A bitter, humorless smile twisted my lips. There were thousands of people suffering. Why was it always her? He must have seen the look on my face, because he pressed on. “I was passing through Level Three the other day, and I saw her. She was like an angel, Rory, singing for the children in the Warrens. How could I let a light like that be extinguished?” I took a step back, the trembling in my voice impossible to hide now. “So you sacrifice me instead? You trade me away to the Warrens?” Level Three wasn’t just poor; it was a chaotic hellscape teeming with the desperate and the violent. There was no guarantee I would even survive down there. Lucas’s brow furrowed in annoyance. “Don’t be so dramatic, Aurora. It’s not a sacrifice. It’s a temporary arrangement.” Just then, a knock echoed at the door. The doctor. Lucas hurried to let him in, leaving me standing there, forgotten once again. I leaned against the sofa for support, my body suddenly weak. Through the crack in the bedroom door, I could see the girl on the bed, her lips pale, her breath coming in ragged, shallow gasps. A sudden, hacking cough erupted from the room. Lucas practically dragged the doctor inside, his focus entirely on her. There was no wind in the Citadel, but a bone-deep chill had settled over me. It was late, long past midnight, when the doctor finally left. Lucas, in a brief moment of acknowledging my existence, found time to deliver his final command. “You see how sick she is. She needs absolute quiet to recover. In three days, you have to go. If you’re still here when the Level Two Wardens do their next population check, we’ll all be in trouble.” I lifted my exhausted eyes to meet his, a bitter taste filling my mouth. At that exact moment, my phone buzzed with a new message. [Ms. Shepherd, a liaison will arrive in three days to escort you to Level One. Welcome to the project.] 2 I silently blanked the screen and forced a brittle smile. “Fine. I’ll leave.” Where I was going, however, was no longer his decision to make. He let out a sigh of relief and leaned in to place a quick, dry peck on my forehead. “I knew you’d understand, Rory. Don’t worry, I’ll have you back before you know it.” I subtly wiped the spot his lips had touched. That night, Lucas stayed by Anya’s bedside, a devoted sentinel. I sat on the living room sofa, sleep evading me as memories, sharp as broken glass, tormented me through the long, quiet hours. Lucas had been a scholarship student my father sponsored. He was so brilliant that my father paid for him to study abroad with me in California. Back then, he was the boy who would cross half of Los Angeles just to buy me a specific piece of cake, the boy who would wait outside my dorm every night with a warm container of food because he knew I hated the campus cafeteria. Now, Lucas couldn’t bear the thought of a “pure, white jasmine flower” like Anya being crushed in the wasteland. But he’d forgotten. He’d forgotten the promise he made seven years ago, at my father’s deathbed. He had sworn to protect me, to ensure that the Shepherd family’s rose would never wither. The Scorch hadn’t come yet. His vows were meant to last an eternity. Now, those same vows had grown thorns, each one piercing my heart. How could someone who was once so good turn so rotten, so suddenly? I couldn’t understand it. But I understood one thing with chilling clarity: whatever path lay ahead, I would be walking it alone. The next morning, Lucas was in the kitchen at dawn, a rare sight. He was simmering a nutrient-rich broth for Anya. I ignored him completely, walking into my study and pulling out my suitcase. The small noises must have woken Anya. After a night of medical care, she was conscious. Her eyes met mine. And then, she went berserk. She scrambled off the bed and threw herself at my feet, banging her head on the floor like a terrified, cornered animal. “Please, don’t hit me! I-I’ll be good, I swear! I’m very quiet, please don’t hit me!” I stared at her, stunned. A frantic rush of footsteps sounded behind me. “Rory! What are you doing to her?!” Lucas stormed into the room, scooping the trembling girl into his arms. His eyes, fixed on me, were bloodshot with fury. He had never lost his composure like this. Not even three years ago, when the Scorch began and our own child was lost in the chaos of the evacuation. He had remained a pillar of stoic grief. But now, for a girl he barely knew, he was turning on me. Anya clung to him, tears streaming down her face. “Please… please don’t send me back to the Warrens… I can sing for you…” Lucas held her tighter, his voice a low, gentle murmur. “Shh, it’s okay. I’m here. Lucas is here.” Then he turned his head, his words for me laced with steel. “She was horribly abused on Level Three, Rory. Don’t you dare try to intimidate her!” I let out a long, slow breath, a wave of profound exhaustion washing over me. “I used to think you were blind, Lucas. Now I see I was the one who couldn’t see.” Blind enough to waste my entire youth on a man like him. For a moment, he looked stunned, a flicker of some unreadable emotion in his eyes. I didn’t wait for him to process it. I turned and walked away. It turns out, when you’re hurt enough, you don’t even have the energy left to fight. Back in my study, I opened an old silver locket. Inside was a photo of the three of us: him, me, and our daughter. The sight of our brilliant, long-lost smiles stung my eyes. The day of the great migration into the Citadel, our daughter had slipped, falling into a fissure that split the earth. There was nothing left to bury. I had cried until my throat was raw and my tears ran dry, and only then did Lucas finally show up. The memory sent a fresh wave of sharp, familiar pain through my chest. Just then, the door creaked open. It was Lucas. He saw me caressing the locket, his expression complicated. “It was an accident, Rory. If our daughter were still here, she wouldn’t want you to be so sad.” He held out a bowl of the broth. “Here, eat something. Your stomach is always giving you trouble.” I snapped the locket shut, a self-mocking smile on my face. “Don’t bring me Anya’s leftovers.” Seeing his peace offering rejected, Lucas’s patience snapped. He slammed the bowl down on my desk. “For God’s sake, Rory, I’m just asking you to stay in the Warrens for a few months! Are you going to hold this grudge forever? Anya is a delicate girl, and she survived down there for three years. Why can’t you?” I slowly raised my heavy eyelids. “Then why don’t you go?” He blinked, not comprehending at first. When my words registered, his face flushed with anger. “I’m the head of this household! If I leave, what kind of a home would this be?” He leaned in, his voice a low threat. “Let me remind you, Rory. If you dare make things difficult for that poor girl, don’t expect me to ever come get you.” He stormed out, slamming the door behind him. I walked to my bookshelf and let out a cold, hollow laugh. Three years in the apocalypse, and he still didn’t get it. Lucas, have you forgotten? Without me, you wouldn’t even have the right to breathe the recycled air of Level Two. 3 Before the Scorch, I was a lead researcher at Caltech. A rising star. For Lucas, I gave up a guaranteed spot on Level One, choosing instead to bring him with me to the relative comfort of Level Two. Not only had my family’s money funded a significant portion of the Citadel’s construction, but without my credentials, he wouldn’t have even qualified for a slot in the Warrens. Of course, in this new world, talent was the most valuable currency of all. On my second-to-last night, I was organizing my research files deep into the night when a sound pulled me from my work. A soft, rhythmic creaking from the bedroom, followed by her breathless sighs and his low murmurs. The sounds of intimacy, a sound I hadn’t shared with him in years. My fingers trembled. Fighting back a wave of nausea, I walked out of the study. The sounds grew clearer, painting a vivid, sickening picture in my mind. Then, I heard Lucas’s voice, thick and husky. “Anya… give me a child…” My hand froze on the doorknob. After our daughter died, the Citadel Directorate had granted us a special procreation permit to help repopulate. But what had Lucas said back then? He’d said our daughter was his only child, that he would never have another. So, it wasn’t that he didn’t want another child. It was that he wanted to give that chance—my chance to be a mother again—to Anya. The realization hit me, and all the remaining warmth in my heart turned to ash. I walked back to the study like a zombie, the last vestiges of my love for him finally, irrevocably gone. At dawn, Anya came to my study, her face a mask of doe-eyed apology. “Rory… I hope we didn’t disturb you last night?” “Get out,” I said, my voice flat and cold. Her eyes instantly welled with tears. “I-I didn’t mean to be so loud… I could sing for you, to make up for it? My specialty is—” I didn’t want to hear another word. I stood up and physically pushed her toward the door. As we struggled, a small, laminated photo slipped from her pocket and fluttered to the floor. I picked it up. It was a signed promotional photo. I vaguely recognized her now; before the Scorch, Anya had been a minor pop star. She smiled, a picture of innocence. “Do you want me to sign something for you, too? Lucas used to love coming to my shows!” A frown creased my brow. I flipped the photo over. On the back was a candid snapshot of Anya and Lucas, laughing together. And at the bottom, a date was neatly inscribed: March 21, 2060.

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The car crash landed me in the hospital. Hannah rushed over, but only long enough to sign a consent form before disappearing. “Something came up at home,” she’d said, leaving me—the guy with the freshly broken leg—all alone. Hours later, after I was out of surgery, I saw a new post from her stepbrother, Leo. It was on his Instagram story. “Just landed and she’s the first person I see. That’s what I call family.” The picture was of Hannah, beaming at the arrivals gate of the airport in the next city over. He’d even forwarded it to the family group chat, a blatant challenge to me, her actual boyfriend. I almost laughed. I typed back a cheerful reply. “What’s a little family bonding between… well, family. Guess that makes you two really close.” 1 I don’t have any family. For seven years, I’d been in New York with Hannah, just the two of us against the world. When she hurried in to sign my surgical consent, a warmth flooded my chest. For a moment, I felt like I had a family, too. Then, in the next breath, she was gone. “Something came up at home,” she’d tossed over her shoulder, not even sparing a glance for me or my injuries. Before I could say a word, she had vanished down the chaotic hospital corridor. When I was wheeled out of the operating room, my first instinct was to call and tell her I was okay. But the first thing I saw was Leo’s post in the group chat. Hannah, holding a huge bouquet of yellow lilies, waving with a brilliant smile at the airport arrivals gate. And his caption: “Just landed and she’s the first person I see. That’s what I call family.” I instinctively tried to shift my right leg, now encased in a heavy plaster cast. The anesthesia was wearing off, and a deep, throbbing ache was setting in. The anger and pain boiled over, and I called her. We fought. Her voice was sharp with impatience, just like every other time we’d argued. “Leo is my brother, Alex! Can you stop being so unreasonable?” “It was a minor accident, for god’s sake. Can’t you be a man and tough it out?” In the background, I could hear Leo’s smug laughter. “Hannah, we’re having a family dinner. Stop taking calls from outsiders.” The words, “He’s not even your blood relative,” died on my tongue as Hannah coldly hung up. A dull ache settled in my chest, heavy and suffocating. I went to my contacts and blocked her number. I didn’t want to bother my friends, so I swallowed my pride and hired a private nurse. I spent the next two and a half weeks in the hospital, enduring the curious whispers and pitying looks from the other patients in my shared room. The day before my discharge, a message came through from one of our mutual friends, clearly on Hannah’s behalf. “Alex, honey, can I come pick you up tomorrow?” It was her signal for a truce. In the ten years we’d been together, this was her pattern. She would hurt me with reckless abandon, then act as if nothing had happened, showering me with affection to smooth things over. And I, who had always treated her like a princess, had never held it against her. I never brought up the past. So she never cared whether her barbs left scars. She knew I would always be there with a smile, ready to forgive and forget. But this time was different. I was done. I had poured all my hopes for a family into her, desperately clinging to any scrap of warmth she offered. But in the end, I was just an outsider. I unblocked her number and sent a simple reply with my discharge time and room number. She replied instantly, a rare occurrence. “I’ll be there on time tomorrow, I promise! Mwah.” “And I’ll bring you some of my homemade chicken soup, okay?” Before, a reply that fast would have had me glowing, already online shopping for a gift to celebrate us making up. This time, I didn’t even have the energy to respond. I just turned off my phone and went to sleep. 2 My discharge was scheduled for ten in the morning. I sat on the edge of the hospital bed and waited. Ten o’clock came and went. Then eleven. Then noon. No sign of Hannah. The nurse on her rounds looked surprised to see me still there. “Alex, I thought you were heading home today?” I forced a weak smile. “Just waiting for a friend to pick me up.” The prying eyes of the other patients were becoming unbearable. I tried calling Hannah. No answer. I waited until after three in the afternoon. Still no Hannah. No message, no call. The nurse came back, looking apologetic. “I’m sorry, Alex, but we have a new patient who needs this bed.” I managed a bitter laugh. “Right. Sorry. I’ll be on my way.” Leaning heavily on my crutches, I’d just made it to the hospital entrance when I saw Hannah rushing in, breathless. “I’m so sorry, honey! I had to drive Leo to a job interview in the next city over, I just got back…” I cut her off with a soft chuckle. “It’s fine.” Hannah froze, a frown creasing her brow. A flicker of anger crossed her face. “You’re mad. You’re blaming me for being late, aren’t you? Leo and I are…” “I’m not mad.” I sidestepped her attempt to take my arm. “Let’s just go home. I’m tired.” “Alex.” She planted herself in front of me, her eyes narrowed. “Where did you learn to be so passive-aggressive? You’ve never been like this.” “Like what?” I met her glare with a calm, almost amused look. “Is it wrong for me to be understanding now?” “I…” She faltered, looking flustered. “Whatever. Let’s just go home.” I maneuvered myself into the back seat of the car. Hannah shot me a glare over her shoulder, clearly annoyed. I beat her to it. “More legroom back here.” She pressed her lips into a thin line but didn’t argue. The exhaustion of the day finally caught up to me, and I drifted off, my head resting against the cool glass of the window. I didn’t wake until the sound of Hannah’s phone shattered the quiet. 3 “Hannah! I got the job!” Leo’s triumphant voice boomed from the car’s speakers. Hannah, who was driving, had put him on speakerphone. She glanced nervously at me in the rearview mirror. Seeing my eyes were still closed, she quickly lowered the volume, a wave of relief washing over her face. “I’m just picking Alex up from the hospital,” she said, her voice a little too casual. “Guess where I am!” Leo laughed, and the sound of howling wind grew louder, more piercing through the phone. The color drained from Hannah’s face. She slammed on the brakes, the sudden stop nearly throwing me from my seat. She paid me no mind, her voice a shrill cry. “Leo! Are you street racing again?!” “Have you forgotten you just got back, that you’re supposed to be recovering? Do you have a death wish?!” “Where are you right now?!” “You know where,” Leo’s voice floated back, light and careless, before he hung up with a laugh. Hannah’s hands were already on the wheel, ready to spin the car around, when her eyes met mine in the rearview mirror. She finally remembered I was there. “Honey…” she started, her expression torn. I knew what was coming. Some flimsy excuse about how Leo’s reckless behavior was more dangerous, how he needed her more than I did, now that I was safely out of the hospital. Before she could even start spinning her story, I made it easy for her. I tapped on the window. “Just let me out here.” “I can grab a cab.” Hannah stared at me, searching my face for any sign of jealousy, but her fingers had already betrayed her, flicking the switch to unlock the doors. I smiled. The soft click of the lock felt like a final, tolling bell in my heart. I dragged my casted leg out of the car. I watched as her car, without a moment’s hesitation, made a sharp U-turn and sped off toward the highway, back toward the next city over. She didn’t even seem to notice that she’d dropped me on a quiet side road, the kind where cabs are a rare sight. I was leaning on my crutches by the curb when my phone rang. It was Jake. “Buddy, listen up. The company’s sending a senior programmer to the States for a special program on the West Coast. I put your name forward.” Jake was a VP at the company and my senior from college. Every time an opportunity like this came up, I was the first person he thought of. And every time, I’d turned him down, using the excuse that I couldn’t leave Hannah, that I wasn’t cut out for life somewhere new. Before I could speak, Jake cut me off. “And don’t you dare give me that crap about not wanting to leave your girlfriend. This is a once-in-a-lifetime shot!” “It’s not like you’re going to outer space. If you can’t survive a year of long-distance, then you need to ditch the girl! I’ll find you someone better, I swear!” I let out a genuine laugh. Hannah and I had been high school sweethearts. Three years of high school, four of college, and three more since graduation. Ten years. A decade where I was almost never apart from her. The day we graduated from college, she came with me to visit my parents’ graves. I remember whispering my prayer to the quiet stones. “I want to be with Hannah forever. I want a family.” Back then, Hannah had squeezed my hand tight, her voice full of conviction. “Alex, I am your family.” That was before her mother remarried, and her stepbrother, Leo, entered our lives. I had loved her for a decade. And in my most vulnerable moment, she had abandoned me. First in a hospital, then on a deserted street. All my devotion, all my hope… it was all just a bad investment. “When do I leave?” I asked, my voice steady. Jake was ecstatic. “Attaboy! You finally came to your senses! This is going to change everything for you, your whole career!” “Send me your resume right now, I’ll forward it to the team in California!” I looked up at the darkening sky. Still no sign of a cab. A dry laugh escaped my lips. “Jake? Could you do me a favor first? Come pick me up? My leg’s not exactly cooperating right now.”

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I turned the shower on full blast to drown out my laptop, leaving the door slightly ajar. Serena pressed against it, tearful. “Let me in, Cole. I’ll do what they do—” I wiped her smeared lipstick away. “Too late. Tonight’s for new talent only.” It began with a promise: meeting at a concert after four years apart. When I arrived, the tickets were already claimed. I spotted Serena holding hands with another man in line. He played innocent, accusing me of scalping. To my horror, Serena joined in, letting the crowd turn on me. After the beating, she finally called, casually explaining she’d given my ticket to a heartbroken classmate. “Buy another ticket and visit me?” she purred. “We’ll marry after graduation.” I said “Okay,” then booked a train home—alone. 1 “Cole, I checked. The train line you usually take has seats available. Get one now. It’s too loud here with everyone leaving the stadium, I’m hanging up.” I sat in the cold, sterile waiting room of the station, the phone dead in my hand. A bitter laugh escaped me, pulling at the fresh cut on my lip. After she’d thrown me to the wolves, I had stormed off to the station, intending to leave immediately. But a foolish part of me clung to the hope that there was some explanation, some terrible misunderstanding. I’d waited all night. And all I got was an excuse about some lovesick freshman. That was her reason for holding another man’s hand? For joining him in a lie that got me beaten by a mob? Her university was in Florida. To get there from my snowy hometown, you either flew or took the one train line that involved a seven-hour ferry crossing. She knew I got violently seasick. The trip always left me pale and sick for days. The old Serena would have stayed up all night fighting for a plane ticket for me. If she failed, she would have called me in tears, apologizing over and over. Now, she didn’t even care. Just “buy a train ticket.” Her indifference was a shard of ice in my heart. I didn’t hesitate any longer. I bought a ticket for the next train heading north, back to the cold embrace of home. It was leaving in twenty minutes. Three stops into the journey, deep in the dead of night, she called again. “Jules and I are heading out of town for that summer project. We’ll be gone for at least a week. When you get to campus, just find a hotel or something. Give you a chance to heal up.” Just before she hung up, I could hear Julian’s syrupy voice in the background. “Serena, I’ve got the whole trip planned out—” My eyes burned with sarcasm. At least she bothered to invent a cover story for her vacation with Julian. At least she remembered that her lie had left me bruised and bleeding at the hands of an outraged crowd. The image of her standing by, watching with cold detachment as people screamed at me, still sent a chill down my spine. I opened my messaging app, about to tell her I wasn’t coming. That’s when a friend request popped up from a user named “Jules_S.” I froze. Serena’s username was “Serena_Loves_J.” The request message read: “Hey man, sorry about that. You just look a lot like the guy who stole my last girlfriend, and I guess I just saw red. I just wanted to get you to leave, didn’t think everyone would get the wrong idea and jump you. Serena made me apologize!” He then sent me a five-dollar transfer. “For your medical bills. Get yourself some ointment or something. Keep the change.” It was Julian. Every word was a backhanded slap, dripping with condescending victory. Before today, I’d never met him. He was just a name in Serena’s stories. At first, she’d complained about a “dumb freshman” in her study group. Then, when I’d ask what she was up to, it was always, “having dinner with Julian,” “playing tennis with Julian.” She even started calling him “Jules.” I got jealous. I told her I wanted to see what this “Jules” looked like. She deflected. “He’s nothing special. Not as handsome as you. Besides, he has a girlfriend. Don’t be so possessive!” Once, I was feeling down after missing out on a scholarship and video-called her. She was in the lab but picked up anyway. Seeing I was upset, she put on a goofy puppy-face filter to cheer me up. But then Julian deliberately leaned into the frame, snatched her phone, and swapped it for some stupid kitten filter. “That filter sucks, Serena. This one’s way better. The one I picked.” She laughed and scolded him for being a pest as they playfully fought over the phone, the filters flickering wildly between them. I just watched, an awkward, silent third wheel. Finally, with the kitten filter Julian had chosen still on, she smiled at the screen. “Jules is so silly. Cole? Why are you so quiet?” A bitter, unnameable feeling rose in my throat, choking me. She must have sensed I didn’t like him, because she stopped mentioning him as much. Until the concert. Now, I could finally put a face to the name. He was good-looking, I guess. But not as good-looking as me. What he had, though, was a swagger—the unshakeable confidence of a man who knows he’s backed by the woman he desires. I didn’t have that. Suddenly, the whole thing felt pathetic. Pointless. I ignored his message, blocked his account, and put my phone away. I stared out the window as the black of night bled into the soft gray of dawn. I’d taken this trip hundreds of times over the years, but I’d never noticed how beautiful the scenery was. I was always in such a rush, counting the minutes until I could see Serena. The next morning at 7 a.m., I arrived home. I tried to slip in quietly, but my parents were already awake. They were in the living room, studying a set of LED letters that spelled out L-O-V-E. They looked up at me, their faces a mixture of confusion and shock. “Son, what happened to your face?” “Why are you back so soon? Weren’t you going to see the concert with Serena? And propose? We were just about to decorate the house to surprise her… Where is Serena?” My hand instinctively went to my pocket, to the small, velvet ring box. I had bought a diamond ring, ready to ask her to be my wife as the music swelled around us. Instead, I had become a joke. The ring would never be given. Faced with their concern, the dam of my composure finally broke. A wave of humiliation and sorrow washed over me. I placed the ring box on the coffee table. My voice was a raw whisper. “Return these. The wedding is off.” I fled to my room, unable to face them. We’d been together for seven years, since high school. My parents already saw her as their daughter. I didn’t know how to explain this to them. They must have understood. They didn’t bother me until lunchtime. “Son,” my dad said, knocking gently. “Come out and eat.” The table was filled with my favorite foods. Halfway through the meal, there was a knock at the front door. “Hey, Martha! Can I borrow your car for a bit?” It was a familiar voice. Serena’s mom. Our families were next-door neighbors, always helping each other out. My mom opened the door. Serena’s mother saw me and froze. “Weren’t you two supposed to come back together?” I was just as confused as she was. She looked at me, puzzled. “Serena called and said she was coming home today. She asked me to pick her up from the station!” 2 I was stunned. I thought she was on vacation with Julian. Serena’s mom, oblivious to the truth, smiled. “Well, since you’re here, Cole, you can just come with me to get her.” I didn’t want to worry our parents with our drama, so I just nodded. At the station, I smoked two cigarettes, trying to compose myself for a calm, rational conversation. But my resolve shattered when I saw them. Two figures, walking hand-in-hand out of the arrivals gate, leaning into each other. The moment Serena saw our car, she dropped his hand. Her mom’s brow furrowed. “Serena, who is this with you?!” Serena didn’t look at her mother. She stared right at me, her voice sharp and defensive. “He’s a freshman from my program. It’s too hot back at his place, and he doesn’t have money to travel. What’s the big deal if I bring him home for the summer?” I didn’t say a word. I just flicked my cigarette to the pavement, ground it out with my boot, and slid into the driver’s seat. Serena’s mom smacked her on the back. “What a way to talk! You’re lucky Cole spoils you so much; no one else would put up with your attitude!” Humiliated, Serena stormed over and banged on my window, her eyes flashing with anger. “Cole, what is this, are you stalking me? I told you to go to my school!” Her mom shot back for me. “He got home this morning. How could he have been stalking you?” The logic seemed to cool Serena’s hot head. She realized the timeline didn’t add up. Her lips parted, then pressed into a thin line as she pulled Julian into the back seat. The ride home was heavy with a strange, suffocating silence. When we parked, Serena’s mom, trying to diffuse the tension, suggested our families have dinner together. It was a tradition. I had no reason to refuse. That evening, our parents, as always, had saved two adjacent seats for Serena and me. But Serena walked right past them, pulling Julian into the seat next to hers. A ripple of unease went through the table. All eyes were on me. I kept my expression neutral and simply found an empty chair. Julian shot me a smug, sidelong glance and then launched into a loud conversation with Serena about campus inside jokes I couldn’t understand, the two of them laughing hysterically. The sight of it turned my stomach. I excused myself halfway through the meal and went upstairs to my room. To my surprise, he followed me. He walked straight to my desk, and with a sweep of his hand, knocked the framed photo of Serena and me from our high school graduation—the one where we were making a heart shape with our hands—onto the floor. The glass shattered. I turned and looked at him, my voice devoid of emotion. “Wandering around someone else’s house, breaking their things. Is that what they taught you at home?” Julian just smirked, pulling a piece of paper from his pocket and slapping it on the desk. “Cut the act, Cole. You really think she’s going to spend her life with you in this… snow globe of a town?” “Hate to break it to you, but Serena’s already been accepted into the grad program at our university. She’s staying to take care of me, make sure I adjust to senior year. But hey, if you want to keep clinging to her like a pathetic leech, you can have another three years of long-distance.” On the desk was a graduate school application form. It was all filled out, with Serena’s signature at the bottom. My chest tightened. I remembered Serena, years ago, crying as she promised me, “Cole, just give me four years. The second I graduate, I’m coming home. Even if I go to grad school, I’ll apply to one near us!” The last ember of hope in my heart died. A cynical laugh escaped me. “You want a new mommy to take care of you at school? Fine. No one’s stopping you. But don’t worry, I have no interest in being your ‘daddy’.” Julian’s face flushed with rage, his finger pointing at me, speechless. Suddenly, the soft sound of footsteps came from the stairs. His ears twitched. He deliberately shoved me hard. Caught off guard, I stumbled back against the desk. He seized the opportunity, grabbing my head and slamming it against the sharp corner. As I lost my balance, my hand flailed out, grabbing the desk lamp and pulling it down with me in a crash of metal and shattered plastic. Serena rushed in to see me on the floor, my head bleeding.

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I’m bound to a dating-sim system. If I can successfully win over the male lead, I’ll get a massive payout. So, I’ve been grinding, trying to rack up affinity points like my life depends on it. Which, you know, it kind of does. But there’s a problem. The male lead’s obsessive, dangerously possessive younger sister has started looking at me… differently. It all came to a head when she cornered me by the lockers, her lip trembling as she looked up at me with wide, wounded eyes. “Alyshia,” she whispered, “do you really have to be in love with my brother?” … I was isekai’d into a cheesy high school romance novel as the main character, and slapped with a system designed to make me conquer the male lead. Only by making him fall for me can I escape this fictional world. During study hall, I chewed on the end of my pen, pretending to puzzle over a calculus problem. In reality, my brain was a looping playlist of TikTok dating advice. “Three little phrases that’ll make a man drop a grand on you.” “Be a damsel in distress, and he’ll be your knight in shining armor.” “The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.” Through his stomach… My eyes slid sideways to the desk behind me, where Jasper sat. His head was bent, fingers curled around a pen as he meticulously worked through an equation, the very picture of a model student. Do model students like homemade lunches? That night, I swung by a 7-Eleven and picked up a pack of sushi. The next morning, I carefully heated it up—just a little—and packed it into a sleek, insulated lunch box. Hey, I wasn’t being lazy; I was being efficient. Time is a resource best spent on the important stuff. For the final, masterful touch, I stuck a little pastel-pink sticky note on the lid. “A little something I made just for you. ♡” I could already picture it: Jasper finding the breakfast, his affinity for me skyrocketing. But the moment my hand placed the box on his desk, a voice, cold as ice, sliced through the morning air from behind me. “What are you doing?” I jumped, spinning around to meet a pair of shadowed, intense eyes. A girl stood there, seemingly having materialized out of thin air. Her features were sharp and defined, her skin a stark, pale white, like a meticulously carved marble statue. Her dark hair fell across her face, half-shrouding her eyes and casting an eerie, unsettling shadow that made her stunning beauty feel… creepy. Just then, my system chimed in with a helpful, albeit belated, notification. Warning, Host. This is Violet, Jasper’s half-sister. Every girl who has confessed her feelings for the male lead has met with a… suspicious accident, eventually forcing them to transfer schools. I ground my teeth, firing back a silent, furious message to the system. Couldn’t you have told me this, oh, I don’t know, BEFORE I was about to get murdered? The system, in an act of pure cowardice, went silent. … Violet’s chilling gaze was fixed on me. She took a single step forward. I instinctively took one back, my leg bumping hard against a desk with a loud thud. Her jaw was clenched, her shadowed eyes burning into me. “An-swer-me,” she bit out, each word a block of ice. The veins on her forearms stood out, taut and blue beneath her pale skin. A primal instinct screamed at me that if I didn’t say something, anything, those hands would be around my neck. Tomorrow’s school news would be my obituary. So, I did the only thing I could. I lied. “It’s not for him.” She stared, silent, waiting for me to continue. Her gaze was so unnerving I had to look away. I swallowed hard, my heart hammering against my ribs, and went all in. “Actually! It’s… it’s for you!” I thrust the lunch box towards her. For a split second, she just stared at it, completely dazed. The fierce hostility in her eyes seemed to dissolve, the sharp, dangerous edge to her presence softening into something… vulnerable. “For me?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper. I tried to look calm, collected. “Y-yeah. Of course. Who else?” I then ducked my head, channeling every ounce of shy, bashful energy I could muster, and scuffed my shoe on the floor like a nervous character in a bad rom-com. “But… but I was too embarrassed to give it to you myself, so I was going to ask Jasper to pass it along.” To sell the lie, I started reading the note aloud, my voice saccharine sweet. “A little something I made just for my dear—” “Shut up.” Her voice was sharp, but her ears were blazing red. She snatched the lunch box from my hands. “Don’t… don’t read it out loud.” I blinked at her. Sensing my gaze, she shot me a flustered glare, then nervously bit her lower lip. It took her a moment to force out the words. “Th-thanks.” She bought it. A wave of relief washed over me. “Violet, what are you doing here?” The newcomer was Jasper. He was walking over from the classroom door, carrying two bags of breakfast, his eyes flicking between me and his sister. “I—” I started. “Nothing!” Violet cut me off. Realizing she’d sounded too aggressive, she turned to Jasper, her voice softening. “Hey, Jasper. I’m not having the breakfast you brought today. I’m gonna head back to class.” Before Jasper could even reply, she was gone, clutching the lunch box to her chest as she bolted from the room. … Jasper’s gaze lingered on his sister’s retreating form for a moment before turning back to me. Our eyes met, and a warm, easy smile spread across his face. “Alyshia, I hope Violet didn’t give you any trouble.” Remembering the near-death experience I’d just had, I managed a strained laugh. “Of course not.” He sighed, a knowing look on his face. “She’s been spoiled by our family,” he said apologetically. “I’m really sorry if she came off as rude. Please forgive her.” He held out one of the breakfast bags he was carrying. “Here, let me make it up to you. This is for you.” “Oh, you really don’t have to,” I said, my words polite but my hands moving with shameless speed. The second my fingers closed around the bag, a cheerful electronic voice pinged in my head. + 5 Affinity. Congratulations, Host. Jasper’s smile was gentle. He noticed me staring and touched his face. “Is there something on my face?” He was handsome, in that effortlessly bright, boyish way that seemed to radiate pure sunshine. I meant to shake my head, but a cheesy pick-up line tumbled out of my mouth before my brain could stop it. “Yeah. A little something called handsome.” Oh god. Kill me now. My toes curled in my shoes from sheer embarrassment, and I desperately wished the floor would swallow me whole. But then, the system pinged again. +10 Affinity. Congratulations, Host. I looked up to see Jasper scratching the back of his neck, a bashful, pleased look on his face. It suddenly dawned on me that maybe, just maybe, I’d been underestimating how simple this guy was. The school bell rang, saving me from further embarrassment. I gave Jasper a stiff, polite smile and quickly retreated to my seat. Excellent work, Host, the system chirped, for once offering praise. “Yeah, thanks a million,” I muttered under my breath. You are most welcome, Host. Instilling you with confidence is my primary function. The system was completely oblivious to my sarcasm, sounding almost… proud of itself. But I couldn’t complain. My mood was soaring. Seeing that affinity score jump so quickly gave me a rush. Winning over some guy? Piece of cake. … The moment the teacher turned to write on the board, I devoured the breakfast Jasper had given me in three bites. The monotonous drone of the lecture, mixed with the low hum of student chatter, was a potent lullaby. My eyelids felt like they were weighted down. I must have dozed off, because the next thing I knew, a wave of noise snapped me awake. A glance at the clock showed that class had been over for three minutes. Through the window, I saw a large crowd of students gathered on the field. I squinted, my eyes focusing on the figures in the center of the circle. Jasper. I yawned, grabbed an unopened bottle of water from my desk, and wandered out to join the throng. Even among the other players on the court, Jasper was the main event. He wore a basketball jersey, a bright, confident smile plastered on his face. As the game started, the energy of the crowd swelled, the air growing thick with excitement. I found a shady spot on the edge of the crowd and squatted down, offering up a lazy cheer every now and then. “Jasper is so hot. I wish he was my boyfriend.” “Dream on. You want to deal with his psycho sister?” That comment cut through my sleepy haze like a shot of espresso. I scooted closer to the girls who were talking, putting on my most innocent, clueless expression. “Jasper has a sister?” One of the girls saw my “uninformed” face, and her gossip-loving heart ignited. She pulled me closer, glanced around conspiratorially, and lowered her voice. “Girl, you haven’t heard? It’s all over the school.” “Jasper has this seriously unhinged sister. Anyone who confesses to him, she finds a way to get them transferred.” I gasped dramatically, covering my mouth. “For real?” The girl puffed out her chest. “One hundred percent! And it’s not just the psycho sister. There’s this other group of girls, too. If they see anyone getting even a little too close to Jasper, they drag them into the bathroom for a beatdown. They’re even scarier than Violet.” My eyebrows shot up. Now that was a piece of intel the system had conveniently left out. “Honestly, I kind of feel bad for Jasper,” the girl continued with a sigh. “His dad is super strict, controls every single one of his grades. He got a bad score on a test once and came to school the next day with a handprint on his face… Hey, I also heard that…” A sudden, deafening roar from the crowd drowned out the rest of her sentence. Jasper was popular, and a decent player. Every basket he made was met with a chorus of shrieks. My new gossip buddy’s eyes lit up, and she abandoned our conversation to scream “Go, Jasper!” at the top of her lungs. I squeezed the plastic water bottle in my hand. Suddenly, this mission felt a lot more complicated. … The moment the final whistle blew, I grabbed my water and started towards Jasper. I hadn’t even taken a full step before a familiar, icy voice stopped me dead in my tracks, sending a chill down my spine. “Where do you think you’re going?” My body went rigid. I turned my head with the slow, creaky movement of a rusty robot. Violet. She’d appeared at my side, her big, dark eyes locked on the bottle of water in my hand. Violet was undeniably beautiful, but her deathly pale complexion and the aggressive intensity of her gaze gave her a vaguely menacing aura. Standing there with the sun at her back, she was a statue-like silhouette, perfectly still, just… staring. The intensity of her gaze made my skin crawl. I forced a smile, the muscles in my face protesting, and took a reluctant step towards her. She didn’t move, but her eyes tracked me until I was standing right in front of her. Taking a deep breath, I shoved the water bottle into her hand, plastered on my sweetest smile, and deployed my now-perfected lie. “I was just looking for you, actually. I knew you’d be around here somewhere, and I brought you some water.” As her fingers closed around the bottle I’d pushed on her, the cold tension in her body seemed to evaporate. “You… you knew I’d be here?” I paused for a beat, then answered as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Of course. I knew you’d come to watch Jasper play basketball. It’s so hot today, so I got this water specifically for you.” I put extra emphasis on the word specifically and watched her expression. Her lips, which had been slightly chapped, pressed together. “Oh,” was all she said. Seeing that she believed me, I let out a silent sigh of relief. I needed to get a copy of Violet’s class schedule. That way, I could perfectly avoid— That will not work, Host, the system interrupted coldly, helpfully explaining, Violet skipped her class specifically to come to the court and watch Jasper play. … I looked at Violet with a complex mix of emotions. Such a pretty girl. What a shame her brain was completely broken. … I was still lamenting her tragic case of insanity in my head when a sharp voice cut through my thoughts. “Look out!” Violet suddenly yanked my shoulder. I stumbled forward, crashing into her. At the exact same moment, a basketball whizzed through the air where my head had just been. My face was buried in the curve of her neck, my hand pressed against her collarbone for balance. A faint, delicate scent filled my nose—something like an unknown flower, very subtle. My reaction was instantaneous and reflexive. I shoved her away. My heart was pounding, a wild, frantic rhythm against my ribs. I coughed twice, clearing my throat. “Thanks for that.” “Mm,” she grunted, clutching the water bottle I’d given her, and walked away without another word. I guessed the near-miss with the ball had scared me more than I thought. My heart wouldn’t stop racing. The image of Violet’s dark, brooding face from a moment ago sent a fresh wave of goosebumps across my skin. My mission to deliver water to the male lead had been intercepted, and I’d lost all interest in watching the game. I snuck back to the empty classroom alone. I was intensely curious about the root of Violet’s obsession with Jasper, but unfortunately, the original author of this novel had abandoned the story after only a few chapters. If I wanted answers, I’d have to get them from the NPCs in this world. I had just sat down when a gust of wind blew the curtains open, and a pen on my desk rolled onto the floor. I bent down to pick it up and, through the gap between the desks, I saw it: a thick, leather-bound journal lying under Jasper’s desk. Snooping through someone’s private things wasn’t exactly noble, but my gut told me this journal might hold some answers. I walked over to Jasper’s desk, knelt, and picked it up. Worried the owner would notice it had been moved, I decided to stay where I was, crouched on the floor, and read it right there. … I opened it to the first page. The paper was yellowed with age; this journal had clearly been around for a while. On the page was a child’s drawing. The lines were clumsy, and I could faintly see the smudged traces of an eraser that hadn’t quite done its job. I guessed the artist was very young when they drew this. The picture was crude, but I could make out a small girl cowering in a corner while a slightly larger boy stood in front of her, shielding her. Facing the boy were masses of chaotic, scribbled lines. Unfortunately, child psychology wasn’t my major, so I couldn’t glean much from this abstract piece. I turned the page. Two words, scrawled in angry red ink, nearly filled the entire sheet. GO DIE! GO DIE! The author had pressed down so hard that the final stroke had torn through the paper. A shiver went down my spine. I turned to the third page. The style seemed to have matured, and I realized this must be a diary. Monday. I went back to school today. I didn’t have lunch. I’m so hungry. Tuesday. The mean boys in class called me a bad seed, so I stole his sandwich. It was good. Wednesday. The teacher said she’s going to call my parents, but Dad won’t come. The diary chronicled a daily struggle at school, and as time went on, the problems escalated. Dead rats in her desk, being dragged into the bathroom and doused with dirty water… The calm, matter-of-fact way it was all written made it hard for me to breathe. I looked up from the diary, taking a deep, shaky breath to calm myself before turning the page. They say I’m a natural-born bad kid, that I should just die. But I’m studying hard. I’m not making trouble for Dad or my brother. Why? WHY?! This page was crumpled, and a large chunk of the bottom left corner had been ripped away. The following entries were all damaged in some way. Some were torn, and the words that remained were often scribbled over with a pen, rendered illegible. I flipped through the pages quickly, until, finally, the entries became clear again. This page had only a few words on it. My brother is so good… I want to be with him forever… … My fingertips trembled. I glanced at the clock; class was about to end. I closed the journal, carefully placed it back where I’d found it, and returned to my seat as if nothing had happened. A journal, found under Jasper’s desk. It had to be Violet’s. Did she leave it there on purpose, hoping her brother would find it? Natural-born bad kid, bullying… The mysteries were tangling together like a knotted ball of yarn, squeezing the air from my lungs. I thought back to Violet’s stunned, almost grateful reaction whenever I showed her the slightest bit of kindness. Suddenly, a wave of pity for her washed over me. For the rest of the afternoon, I juggled my thoughts about Violet’s diary with my primary mission: charming Jasper. He seemed to have a real weakness for cheesy pick-up lines. I spent the afternoon wracking my brain, dredging up every corny line I’d ever heard. By the end of the day, I’d managed to push his affinity score all the way to seventy. “Alyshia, you’re really something else,” Jasper said, looking down shyly as he handed me a piece of candy. “This gummy is really sweet.” I took it from him, tilted my head back to gaze dreamily at the ceiling, and said with deep emotion, “But… you’re sweeter.” His head dropped even lower. At the same time, the system chimed in. +5 Affinity. Congratulations, Host. My confidence surged. I sat up straighter, already searching my mental database for more lines. Just then, a boy ran up to our desks, grabbing Jasper by the arm. “Come on, the teacher’s looking for you!” he said breathlessly. Jasper looked confused but let himself be dragged out of the classroom. The second he was out the door, a girl from our class approached my desk with a bright smile. “Alyshia, could you come to the restroom with me? There’s something I want to talk to you about.” … I raised an eyebrow, suspicious, but she just gave me a friendly, disarming smile and asked again, “Can you?” I ended up agreeing. She linked her arm through mine affectionately and pulled me towards the door. “So, what did you want to tell me?” I asked. She squinted her eyes, her smile turning into a smirk. “You’ll find out soon enough.” The moment I stepped into the restroom, someone shoved me hard from behind. The floor was wet, and my feet slipped out from under me. I went down hard, landing in a puddle of grimy water that instantly soaked through my pants, clinging coldly to my skin. Click. The lock on the bathroom door turned behind me. Several girls surrounded me. The “friendly” one from class walked slowly towards me and crouched down, her fingers gripping my chin. She let out a sharp, mocking laugh. “Tsk, you idiot. You really think your little act could fool anyone but that moron, Violet?” My eyes widened. This had to be them. The ones the girl on the field had mentioned, the ones who were “even scarier than Violet.” The leader of the group suddenly raised her hand. I tried to dodge, but two other girls grabbed my shoulders, holding me in place. I had no choice but to take the slap. A fiery sting exploded across my cheek. I clenched my jaw, the pressure on my shoulders intensifying. Fighting back was pointless; I was outnumbered and outmatched. A drop of cold sweat trickled down my temple. This was bad. System, help me, I pleaded silently, my voice trembling in my head. The cold, mechanical voice replied. I am here, Host. What do I do? I think this is it for me. The system paused for a moment before answering. Host, this is part of your mission. I am unable to intervene. … The girl who slapped me let out a derisive snort, patting my cheek condescendingly. “You really think you’re worthy of Jasper?” I looked at her face, twisted with jealousy, and shrank back. Ugly, I thought. Seeing my lack of reaction, she assumed I was terrified into silence and raised her hand to slap me again. I bit down hard, forcing myself to stay calm, to not give her the satisfaction of a reaction. Her friends jeered, their eyes filled with malice. “Hey, why don’t we strip her down and take a few videos?” “Hahaha, you’re so bad! We can send them to Jasper and see what he thinks…” At that, they actually started pulling out their phones. A pack of vicious hyenas. Fear, cold and sharp, pierced through me. I couldn’t let them do this. I could feel sweat trickling down my back, my shirt sticking to my skin. I dug my nails into my palm, the sharp sting helping to clear my head. I scanned my surroundings for a weapon, anything I could use. Nothing. With two of them pinning my shoulders, my chances of fighting my way out were zero. As my mind raced, a deafening BOOM echoed from the bathroom door. “Shit!” the leader cursed, startled. The person outside started kicking the door, each impact a thunderous, relentless crash that shook the entire room. The girls exchanged panicked glances. Before the door could be kicked off its hinges, one of them scrambled to unlock it. The door flew open and a figure strode in, her gaze sweeping over the group before landing on me, crumpled on the floor. My eyes met hers, and my breath caught. Violet? “What do you want?” the leader demanded, but her voice lacked its earlier bravado. She sounded… nervous. There’s an unwritten rule in the social jungle of high school: you can pick on the quiet kids, but you never, ever mess with the crazy ones. As much as these girls acted like they owned the place, even they knew to give Violet a wide berth. Violet let out a strange, humorless laugh. “I was just coming to use the restroom,” she said. She was tall, a full head taller than any of the girls in the circle. They swallowed nervously. One of them, trying to act tough, stepped in front of me. “Well, your timing sucks. Get out.” Violet sneered and closed the distance between them in a single, fluid motion. The next second, she had kicked the girl squarely in the stomach, grabbed a handful of her hair, and shoved her face-first into a sink, cranking the faucet to full blast. “Why don’t you take a moment to cool off,” Violet hissed, her voice dripping with venom, “and think about who really needs to get out.” Water gushed from the tap, overflowing the sink and spilling onto the floor. Bullies always pick the weakest target. Faced with someone who fought back harder, they faltered. Violet’s brutal efficiency had stunned the others into silence. I peeked up through my lashes and found her looking right at me. I was suddenly, intensely aware of how pathetic I must look. The moment our eyes met, I dropped my gaze, staring at the grimy floor. For some reason, I didn’t want her to see me like this. Violet must have seen the red mark on my cheek, because her expression turned murderous as she looked at the girl who had hit me. “You did this?” The girl flinched. “I-I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she stammered. “It was her,” I said suddenly, my voice quiet but clear. The girl shot me a look of pure hatred, but with Violet standing over her, she tried to bluff her way out. “So what if it was? I was doing you a favor! You have no idea, this snake pretends to be nice to you, but the person she really likes is—” SLAP. The sharp crack of a hand hitting a cheek cut her off. Violet’s face was a dark storm cloud. “Don’t you dare presume to know what other people are thinking,” she snarled. “I don’t need you to tell me anything.” “You!” the girl cried, clutching her face, tears welling in her eyes. SLAP. Another slap, harder this time, sent the girl stumbling back, sobbing openly. Violet grabbed her by the collar, slamming her against the wall. “From now on,” she warned, her voice a low, dangerous growl, “you will not touch her. You will not look at her. You will not even think about her.” She let go abruptly. The girl slid to the floor in a heap. Her friends scrambled to pull her up, practically dragging her out of the bathroom as they fled. … The chaotic restroom was suddenly silent. It was just the two of us. Violet’s menacing aura dissipated. She held out a hand to me. “Get up.” I placed my hand in hers, and she gently pulled me to my feet. “Why didn’t you fight back?” she asked. I managed a small smile. Seeing her look so serious was a novelty, and a wicked little impulse took root in my mind. I decided to tease her. I let my body go limp, falling against her and pressing my lips close to her ear. “Because I can’t fight,” I whispered. “But that’s okay… you came.” Her body went stiff. She turned her head away with a soft “Hmph.” She didn’t say anything, but I could feel her heart hammering against her chest, a fast, frantic rhythm. Thump-thump-thump. It seemed she was just as shaken as I was. In silence, she took off her school jacket and tied it around my waist, hiding my wet pants. She stood there for a long moment, just looking at me. In her eyes, those glass-like orbs that were usually so dark and shadowed, a strange new emotion seemed to flicker. For the first time, I saw her smile. It was a small, fleeting thing, but it was there. “Useless,” she said, her voice laced with an odd sort of affection. After that day, things settled down. I kept the system’s mission in mind, dutifully feeding Jasper a daily dose of cheesy lines. But his affinity gains slowed to a crawl, the numbers inching up by pathetic increments of 0.01. It was like trying to get a discount on Temu. My confidence began to wane. True to Violet’s word, the bullies never bothered me again. But her attitude towards me… changed. It grew subtle, yet insistent. She started seeking me out, stuffing my pockets with snacks and candy. She’d walk with me to the restroom between every class, claiming she was worried I’d get into trouble again. I always told her she was being paranoid, but she would just look at me with that strange, intense gaze, bite her lip, and say nothing. It was almost as if her object of affection had shifted from Jasper to me. But that was impossible. I knew who she loved. It had always been Jasper. As Violet and I grew closer, the missing pieces of that diary I’d found finally clicked into place. … “My mother was my father’s old flame,” she told me one afternoon, her voice flat. “She swore she would never see that heartless bastard again.” “But she had no one, and she got sick. Really sick. I was just a little kid. In the end, she had no choice. She went to him, crying, begging him to take me in.” “He’s a cold man, but because of some inconvenient blood tie, he let me stay.” “So I took his last name and entered the Vance family.” “He had just divorced Jasper’s mother at the time, so my arrival… it made people talk.” “Gossip is a powerful weapon,” she said, a bitter edge to her voice. “They called me the other woman’s child. A born bad seed.” I understood completely. At an age where a moral compass is still forming, kids will always find a target for their self-righteous cruelty. I remembered the words in her diary, the fear-filled school days, and a pang of sympathy went through me. Violet gave a self-deprecating smile. “But then, right when everyone was against me, Jasper stood up for me. He stood in front of them and shouted, ‘Violet is not a bad seed! She’ll always be my sister!’” “Everyone else laughed at me, hated me. But my brother… he was different.” She looked down, fiddling with her fingers. “When you’re lost in the dark, you tend to romanticize any light you find. I was no different.” She lifted her eyes to meet mine. “Back then, my brother was my entire world. That’s why… I didn’t want anyone to take him from me.” Even though I’d pieced most of it together, hearing it from her directly was still affecting. “Violet…” “But after I met you,” she cut in, her tone shifting as a bright smile broke across her face, “I realized… you’re a really, really good person. You’re so good that… I almost want to keep you all to myself.” Our eyes met. I froze. She just laughed, a light, easy sound. “I’m kidding. As long as you’re happy, that’s all that matters.” Her words left me speechless. She only felt this way because of a series of accidental misunderstandings on my part. I bit my lip, unsure how to respond. She reached out and playfully ruffled my hair. “From now on,” she said softly, “I’ll only be this good to you.” I turned my head away. “You give up on your convictions pretty easily.” She didn’t answer, just smiled.

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Friday. A torrential downpour. Cows seek shelter, horses head for the stables, but the corporate drones… we find a way to get to the office, no matter what. I slid into the office right on time, swiping my keycard just as the boss, Kellan, walked by. He shot me a look of displeasure. It was probably my dripping umbrella, dirtying his pristine marble floors. I managed to survive until quitting time, only for my supervisor to announce mandatory overtime. Seething with resentment, I turned my head and saw him standing right behind me. Kellan’s face was a perfect mask of indifference. [Yes! A few more hours with Lily.] Who said that? 1 It was bizarre. The office was dead silent, yet I’d clearly heard a man’s voice. Just a moment ago, I was ranting to my coworker, Jenna. “This soulless corporation is always demanding overtime. If they didn’t pay so well, I’d have quit ages ago.” “I know, right?” she whispered back. “And why is it always you? You’re always the first one to finish your work.” It was true. I clocked more overtime than anyone else in the company. My supervisor called it “the burden of competence,” always giving me this strange, meaningful look. “I was supposed to see a movie with a friend tonight,” I grumbled. “So much for that.” Jenna ignored me, her eyes widening as she frantically signaled at something behind me. I knew that look. The boss was on patrol. I spun around to find Kellan Sterling standing there, tall and immaculate in his tailored suit. And he was looking at me. Again. I was pretty sure Kellan hated me. If I spoke too loudly in the office, he’d stare. If I shared snacks with a coworker, he’d stare. If I even thought about sneaking out early, he’d materialize with a look of stern disapproval. I’d often wondered, if he despised me so much, why did he even hire me? To make it worse, he was the reason for most of my overtime, summoning me to his office for the most trivial matters. I swear, I made more trips to the CEO’s office in a day than a delivery boy. I was convinced he was singling me out. Just like now, standing silently behind me like some corporate specter. “There are some minor details in that proposal that need to be reviewed,” he said, his tone flat, his eyes sweeping over me. “You’ll need to stay. We’ll go over them together.” You blood-sucking capitalist. It’s Friday night. Who in their right mind wants to slave away for you? No. This time, I would fight back! I know my rights! “Mr. Sterling, I have plans this evening. Does this proposal absolutely have to be reviewed right now?” I thought I sounded firm and resolute, but my voice came out with the unmistakable, pathetic whine of a wage slave. “Yes. I appreciate your trouble. I’ll see to it that your bonus is doubled this month.” My eyes lit up like a pinball machine. For the money… I forgive you. And right then, I heard it again: [Yes! A few more hours with Lily.] What the hell? It was his voice. Lily? Who’s Lily? I scanned the office. There was no one named… oh, wait. My name is Lily. Lily Graham. I glanced back at the boss. He still had that same stone-faced expression, as if that little burst of cheerful excitement had nothing to do with him. Maybe I was just hearing things. [Lily’s looking at me!] [Is there something wrong with my outfit today? The stylist picked this one out. It should be fine.] It wasn’t a hallucination. I looked at him again. [She’s looking at me again. Her eyes are so round. Like a little kitten.] Hearing that, my carefully composed expression started to crack. I was about to lose my mind. 2 By eight o’clock, the office was a ghost town. It was just me and Kellan. I was meticulously presenting the proposal I’d submitted a few days ago. On the surface, Kellan was the picture of professionalism. But his inner monologue was a different story. [Lily’s voice is so nice to listen to.] [She’s so brilliant. How does she come up with such amazing proposals?] [Aw, she’s done talking. I wish I could listen to her speak a little longer.] Now it was my turn to be expressionless. Ever since I’d started hearing his thoughts this afternoon, I’d realized Kellan was not the prim and proper man he appeared to be. He seemed to have some… indescribable feelings for me. At lunch, he’d deliberately gotten the exact same meal as me. [Yes! Eating the same thing as Lily.] During meetings, he’d always sit directly across from me. [Wow, I can look at Lily the whole time. My eyes feel so much better.] When I’d hugged Jenna goodbye at the end of the day, he’d been watching from the sidelines, his gaze dark and heavy. [Sob. Lily has never hugged me.] It was settled. Kellan Sterling had a crush on me. “Mr. Sterling, I’ve finished my presentation. Do you have any further comments?” “No further comments. We’ll make the changes you suggested. Your ideas are excellent.” He maintained his elite, business-like facade, giving no hint of the thoughts swirling in his head. “In that case, may I leave now?” The clock on the wall was nearing nine. Kellan glanced at it, a shadow of disappointment crossing his features. [How did it get so late? I barely got any time with Lily.] [Now I have to wait until next week to see her again.] I tensed. Don’t you dare try to keep me here longer, Kellan! I’ve had enough! “You may,” he said. I let out a breath of relief. Thank God, he was still human. Just then, a loud clap of thunder rattled the windows, and the rain started pouring down again. My heart sank. The universe itself was conspiring to make my life difficult. [It’s raining! This is my chance! I can offer to drive Lily home!] His voice was practically bouncing with excitement. “Lily,” he said, his voice smooth and professional. “Let me give you a ride home. It’s raining, and you were working late for the company’s benefit. It’s only right that I see you get home safely.” Under the office lights, his eyes seemed deep and dark, but I could have sworn I saw a flicker of thrilled excitement in them. I rolled my eyes internally. What a sanctimonious liar. But hey, a free ride is a free ride. A cab from here would cost me at least twenty bucks. “Well, thank you, Mr. Sterling.” “Of course. Let’s go.” [Yes! I get to go home with Lily today!] I nearly tripped over my own feet. Just what exactly was he imagining? 3 I slept in the next day. When I woke up, I saw a missed call from my parents. I didn’t need to guess what it was about. It was the same old story: find a boyfriend, get married, settle down. Sometimes, I found them ridiculous. When I was a child, they were ashamed I was a girl, telling anyone who would listen what a burden I was. Now, every other sentence was about how they were only “thinking of my own good,” constantly fretting over my future. My phone buzzed with a new message. My mom, again. She’d sent me a contact card. [This is your aunt’s son. He went to a top university, has a great career, he’s loyal, family-oriented. You should meet him. If you could marry him, you’d be set for life.] It was followed by a series of long voice messages, undoubtedly more lectures. Whatever. I’ll add him and then make it clear I’m not interested later. Just then, another notification popped up. The avatar was a cartoon cat. The contact name was Apex. A smile spread across my face. This was my gaming buddy. We’d known each other for three years, and his skills were insane. He was the only reason I’d ever managed to rank up. [Whatcha doin?] he messaged, along with a gif of a spinning kitten. [Dealing with my family’s marriage pressure. It’s so annoying.] We were close, but this was the first time I’d ever shared anything personal with him. For some reason, I felt like he’d understand. [You don’t want to get married?] [I don’t want to marry some ugly, broke, scheming man.] My mom had a habit of setting me up with the sons of her friends and relatives. Not a single one of them had been normal. He seemed to be typing for a long time on his end. Finally, a single message came through: [I’m not.] Huh? What was that supposed to mean? I ignored it and continued my rant: [And I think someone at my company likes me. I always thought he hated me. It’s a really weird feeling.] This time, the silence on his end was even longer. [Who is it?] Why did that sound so intense? [You don’t think I’m just making it up?] I asked, deflecting his question. After all, mind-reading sounded completely insane. [You’re an amazing person. It’s normal for someone to like you.] [Hahaha, you’re so smooth. You must have had a lot of girlfriends.] I was surprised. The usually cool and distant Apex was being quite the charmer. [No. I don’t have a girlfriend.] Whoa. A guy with his skills and personality was single? For some reason, hearing that made me happy. So, I sent Apex an invitation for a duo queue. He happily accepted. 4 Monday. Back to being a corporate drone. I dragged my lifeless body to the office, once again running into Kellan as I was clocking in. I instinctively tried to duck away, but his inner monologue caught me. [Sniffle. I finally get to see Lily again. Two days without seeing her felt like an eternity.] [Lily’s wearing a skirt today. Her legs are so beautiful. I want to kiss them.] [Why is Lily glaring at me? Did I do something to upset her?] Pervert! I cursed him in my head. How could Kellan be so cool and composed on the outside, but so shameless on the inside? He was shattering my image of the elite, untouchable CEO. Throughout the day, I felt his eyes on me. Little details that I’d previously ignored now made sense. Kellan would deliberately walk past my desk on his way to the break room. During meetings, when asking for suggestions, his gaze would land on me first. The afternoon tea that was delivered to the office was my favorite blueberry scone. I thought back to why I’d believed he was targeting me. It all started after that one presentation where I accidentally projected my laptop screen for the whole conference room to see. Displayed in giant letters was my private chat with Apex, complaining about the constant overtime and how I just wanted to play games. I remember several managers snickering, and Kellan, sitting in the center, looked absolutely furious. After that, he started appearing everywhere, always assigning me overtime, always calling on me for tasks. But the truth was… he was just trying to get my attention? Creating opportunities to be around me? Oh, my God. What kind of man pursues a woman like that? If I weren’t so greedy for that bonus money, I would have quit long ago! Jenna was secretly messaging me. “Lily, I think Mr. Sterling has been paying a lot of attention to the guys in our department today.” “Why would he do that?” “I don’t know. I heard from the team lead that he specifically asked which ones were single.” “Don’t try to guess what the boss is thinking. You’ll never figure it out.” Actually, I could. For instance, right now, Kellan was thinking: [Lily and Jenna are standing so close. When will Lily ever stand that close to me?] I swear, this man was a lovesick fool. [No, I can’t stand it. I’m too jealous. I have to call her over.] “Lily, my office. Now.” I rolled my eyes and went in. “There’s a business gala this Friday. You’ll be my date.” “Don’t you have a secretary for that?” I said, my usual sycophantic tone completely gone. Kellan glanced at me. “They’re all busy.” And I’m not? “I’ll have accounting triple your overtime pay for the night.” “Of course, Mr. Sterling,” I replied, plastering on a fake, professional smile. [Another chance to spend more time with Lily this week.] [That gown will look stunning on her. I can’t wait.] [I wonder if people will think she’s my girlfriend.] That last thought was tinged with a hopeful excitement. Seriously? I wanted to shake him. A man with his resources, and he’s resorting to a secret crush? What did I do to deserve this?

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After being reborn as the tragic heroine of a romance novel, I accidentally picked up the wrong script—the one where I’m deeply in love with the second female lead. When she tripped and fell, I tore into my A-list actor boyfriend. “A whole person falls down right in front of you, and you just stand there? Are you just decorative?!” When she was getting attacked by online trolls, I grabbed my phone and single-handedly launched a counter-offensive. When she posted a photo with my boyfriend, I commented: “You have such terrible taste in men. Let me set you up with someone decent.” My Boyfriend: “…” The Other Woman: “…” Later, my boyfriend had me blacklisted from the industry. But the girl he did it for, the supposed “other woman,” spent the entire night comforting me. “So you’re blacklisted? Big deal,” she said, her voice fierce. “If it comes to it, I’ll quit the industry with you!” That was the night the system, which had been frozen since my arrival, finally came online. [Bzzzt—! Host, aren’t you supposed to be suffering a tragic miscarriage right now? Why are you getting all lovey-dovey with the second female lead?] 1 I took my best friend and my boyfriend hiking. They teamed up to push me off a cliff. The good news: I was caught by the park staff. The bad news: One was wearing all black, the other all white. They looked suspiciously like the Grim Reaper’s interns. They told me I’d lived a good life, so I was due for a great reincarnation. Before they could finish, I was whisked away. I had transmigrated. The bad news: There was an accident during the transfer. The system crashed and went offline. The good news: Before it died, it managed to toss me the script. This whole whirlwind of events left me speechless. I opened the script, and the first page had only one sentence in a massive, bold font: [UNCONDITIONALLY PROTECT THE FEMALE LEAD: JULES SONG.] The good news: Jules Song and I were filming the same reality TV show. The bad news: She had just fallen down right next to me. The top star, Liam Riverwood, was standing right in front of her. From his angle, all he could see was the picture of delicate distress: Jules, clutching her knee, brow furrowed, biting her lip, looking utterly pitiful. And then there was me, standing beside her like an idiot. Her eyes, shimmering with tears, flickered towards me. “Julia, you…” Her tone was loaded with meaning. Every head swiveled in my direction. The most piercing gaze belonged to my secret boyfriend, Liam. I used the few brain cells I had left to analyze the situation and then pointed my finger squarely at him. “A whole human being managed to fall over right in front of you. Are you just paid to stand there and look pretty?” 2 The live stream chat exploded. [Uh? What? Why is she blaming Liam?] [Is this woman insane?] [Wow, shifting blame much? Pathetic.] Liam himself was stunned, clearly not expecting me to say that. I pointed at Jules on the ground. “You were standing face-to-face with her. I was standing to her side. Geometrically speaking, you had a much clearer view. Not only did you fail to catch her, but you just stood there like a statue after she fell! What, were you waiting for her to bounce back up?” Hearing this, Jules tried to push herself up. “It has nothing to do with Liam, I was just being clumsy.” I rushed to help her, but the moment my hand touched her, she let out a sharp cry of pain. Liam panicked. He shoved me aside and swooped in to lift Jules into his arms. A pang of pain shot through my heart. …Except he couldn’t lift her. He tried again, grunting with effort. Good news: he got her off the ground. Bad news: he threw out his back. Even worse news: he dropped her. A shriek escaped my lips. “My God! With a spine as fragile as a sparrow’s fart, what possessed you to even attempt a princess carry?!” Liam’s face turned black. I swiftly scooped Jules out of his failed embrace and gently set her down on a nearby chair. For a moment, a look of sheer disbelief crossed everyone’s face. “Is Julia… having a breakdown?” Of course I wasn’t. I just didn’t want to fail my mission. Yes. That had to be it. I successfully brainwashed myself. I turned to get the first-aid kit. When I looked back, Liam had already moved Jules just outside the camera’s frame. He was kneeling in front of her, blowing gently on her scraped knee. “Is that better?” Jules smiled faintly. “Mm-hm.” His voice was laced with a sort of weary fondness. “You’re still so careless when you walk.” Another pang. Sharper this time. Jules started to say something else but then she saw me. She gave Liam a little push. “Julia’s here.” Liam glanced at me, a flicker of discomfort on his face. I knew why. According to the script, I had been with him since he was a nobody. We had survived on instant ramen and shared single chicken wings. Back then, the most sincere thing he ever said was: The day I make it big, I’m going to tell the whole world I have the best girlfriend ever. But when he finally made it, he found a new girl. And another. And another. Jules was just the latest in a long line, though she might be the last. She was the prettiest, the most understanding. Thinking of this, I asked him, “If I hadn’t come over, were you planning to keep blowing on her knee all day?” Jules looked nervous and reached for Liam’s arm. The other cast members and the crew started looking over. His voice was a low warning. “Julia, don’t push it.” That set me off. “I’m pushing it? Liam, are you an absolute moron? Do you have any idea how disgusting your mouth is? It’s a petri dish for bacteria, and you’re blowing it all over her open wound! What if it gets infected?” The entire set went silent. Then, a few people failed to stifle their laughter. Liam’s face burned with humiliation. “You… you…” “‘You, you, you’ what? Bad back, and a bad brain to match.” Liam stormed off in a rage. I grinned, kneeling in front of Jules with a cotton swab. “The Neanderthal’s gone. Don’t worry, I’ll disinfect this for you!” 3 Because Jules was injured, the rest of the day’s activities were scrapped in favor of a cozy fireside chat. Aside from Liam, who was forcing a smile, everyone else seemed to be in good spirits. The producer threw out a question. “What’s the most unforgettable hateful comment you’ve ever received online?” Jules was the first to speak. She glanced at Liam, then said softly: “In all my years in this industry, the thing that stuck with me the most was from three years ago, when my fantasy drama aired. Someone called me a thief.” I froze. If I remembered correctly, I was originally cast as the female lead in that drama. The day before filming started, I was replaced by Jules. Coincidentally, the male lead was also swapped out… for Liam. Thanks to his star power and promotion, the show became a minor hit, and Jules gained a million followers overnight. The live chat started buzzing again. [I remember that! Jules got so much hate, Julia’s fans were brutal.] [Well, Jules did steal Julia’s role. People are allowed to be mad.] [You all called Julia a has-been before, now you’re calling her fans crazy. Make up your minds.] [Lmao, cyberbullies always find a way to justify themselves.] Jules continued to recount her experience with the online mob, but I couldn’t listen anymore. I pulled out my phone and started scrolling. “Back then, every morning I’d wake up and my DMs would be full of people cursing me out, telling my whole family to die…” She was crying now, her eyes red and swollen. Liam moved to wipe her tears, but then he noticed me, head down, engrossed in my phone. “Julia, is this your idea of respect?” I had just looked up when he snatched the phone out of my hands. Ethan Siegel, another A-list actor on the show, saw Liam defending Jules and quietly looked away. Liam slammed my phone down on the table. “Since your phone is so fascinating, let’s all have a look, shall we?” He was furious, and the crew didn’t dare intervene. All the cameras zoomed in on my phone screen. Even though I knew this show was basically created for Jules, having my privacy exposed like this still stung. Liam opened the social media app I was on. The notifications tab was a sea of red, with a “99+” badge. He tapped on it. And froze. Troll_101: [Am I the only one who thinks Jules is a total fake?] Jules’sKnightInShiningArmor: [Yes. You are the only one. You are special. You are a unique little star. You are the light, the truth, and the one true myth.] Hater_4_Life: [Jules isn’t even that pretty. Why do so many people like her?] Jules’sKnightInShiningArmor: [Life is dull and full of pain, so a toad critiques a human.] RandomUser89: [Idk, Jules seems kinda basic.] Jules’sKnightInShiningArmor: [Oh, unlike you, I suppose. You’re like a goat that farted a sheep’s fart—both gassy and pretentious.] I had decided that replying to them one by one wasn’t efficient enough, so I’d made my own post. [Feel free to list all your complaints about Jules Song here. Get it all out of your system. I’ll be deleting all of it shortly. How dare you disrespect my queen? I am on the internet for one reason: to make Jules an empress. Those who follow me will prosper; those who oppose me will perish. Those who dare criticize me to my face will have their bloodline cursed for nine generations. Those who petition me online will face extreme punishment. Those who slander me in public and have it reach my ears will be gifted a vial of poison and told to do the honorable thing.] The set was dead silent for a long moment. Finally, Ethan Siegel spoke up. “Julia… this ‘Jules’sKnightInShiningArmor’… that wouldn’t happen to be you, would it?” I looked down and picked at my fingernails. “Is that a problem?” 4 The system’s script told me to unconditionally protect Jules, and I was doing a fantastic job. Maybe too fantastic. Fans online were starting to suspect we were secretly dating. And we weren’t the only ones caught up in shipping rumors. So was Ethan. He was Liam’s senior in the industry, a respected actor who’d never had a single scandal. But during today’s live streams, he had looked visibly dejected four separate times. Each time was right after Liam and Jules had a close moment. While the producers held an emergency meeting, I cornered him in the hallway. “Ethan, have you seen the trending topics online?” He shot back, “Julia, have you seen the ship name the fans have given you two?” Because our names both started with a ‘J’, fans had started calling us ‘J-Squared’. “I seem to recall… you and your junior colleague Liam aren’t exactly close.” “And I seem to recall you and Jules weren’t exactly close either.” Our eyes met. We suddenly lunged forward and hugged each other. “We’re two lonely souls in the same boat!” “I can’t believe I found a comrade here!” After our reunion, I asked him. “What’s your mission?” He sighed. “The system crashed the second I got here. It only had time to throw the script at me. My role is the tragic protagonist of a romance novel. The other protagonist… is Liam.” For the love of God, why did that sound so familiar? “Pardon my asking, but what’s your system’s ID number?” Ethan calmly stated three digits. “250.” For the love of God, it was the same one! The system was truly as idiotic as its ID suggested. This raised a question. “But seriously, why are our roles so weird? I’m Liam’s girlfriend, but I have to protect Jules. You’re his senior colleague, but you’re supposed to be tortured by him…” A thought flashed through my mind. “I’ve got it!” A spark of hope ignited in Ethan’s eyes. I stated my theory with grave seriousness. “Liam’s bisexual!” 5 The spark died. I don’t know if other people believe in the light, but in that moment, I saw it get extinguished from Ethan’s eyes. The disappointment was palpable. “So you’re saying… Liam and I are in love, but he’s fallen for Jules? And for her sake, he abandons me and ignores me, over and over, until I fall into a deep depression and die, at which point he finally realizes that I was the one he loved all along?” I snapped my fingers. “As expected of an award-winning actor! Your ability to piece together a plot is top-notch.” He frowned. “But you’re his official girlfriend!” I tutted. “You just don’t get it, do you? Me, Jules… we’re just pawns in your twisted game of angsty love.” “Tsk, this is juicy. You love Liam, but Liam is all over Jules. And me, his secret girlfriend, not only am I not mad, I’m actively trying to steal Jules away. Wow. Who wrote this stuff? It’s wild.” Ethan rubbed his temples. “So what I need to do now is… act like the heartbroken original partner whose boyfriend is cheating on him?” I gave him a sympathetic look. Ethan had been in the business for over a decade, playing countless iconic roles. This would be his first time playing a man whose boyfriend was cheating on him. The thought of such an elegant, handsome man having to play a tragic lover made me shiver on his behalf. I patted his shoulder. “Look on the bright side. You’re in your thirties. Prime time for a career challenge.” Ethan sighed, and his gaze suddenly shifted to something behind me. My heart skipped a beat. I whipped around to see Liam standing in the doorway, his expression unreadable. Behind him stood Jules, her face a mask of disbelief. She looked exactly like someone who had just caught her boyfriend cheating. I yanked my hand off Ethan’s shoulder. Jules bit her lip and ran off. I instinctively moved to follow her but was blocked by Liam, who adSiegeld on me step by step. He sneered at Ethan. “I never knew you had a hobby of hitting on other people’s girlfriends, Ethan.” Ethan’s face was a portrait of grief. “There’s a lot you don’t know, isn’t there?” “I’m the one whose girlfriend is being hit on. Why do you look so heartbroken, Ethan?” Ethan just stared at him. I stared at him too. Liam looked confused. “What? Why are you both looking at me?” A faint redness crept into Ethan’s eyes. “Do you really not know what you’ve done?” Liam: “?” “What did I do?” Ethan didn’t answer. He just turned and walked away. Liam turned his bewildered gaze back to me. “What did I do?” I was still lost in admiration for Ethan’s superb acting, so I ignored him too. Liam exploded. “SERIOUSLY, WHAT THE HELL DID I DO?!”

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On the day we honored my father’s memory, my wife’s childhood sweetheart “accidentally” pushed my mother off a cliff. Her scream echoed before vanishing—no body was found. Grief-stricken, I reached for my phone, but Seraphina stopped me, gripping our son Leo by the throat. “Take the blame,” she hissed. “A few years in prison won’t kill you. But Adrian? He’s a lawyer—he can’t have a record.” She dangled Leo over the cliff, his small body bruised. “Choose: confess or I drop him.” I confessed. In prison, chains pierced my collarbones. Brine-soaked lashes split my skin nightly. Inmates used me. But thoughts of Leo kept me alive. When released, I found them—Seraphina and Adrian entwined on the couch, their newborn nearby. “You expected loyalty?” she sneered. “From a prison whore?” Leo recoiled from my touch. “I hate you! Only Uncle Adrian is my dad!” Their perfect family, built on my ruin, shattered me. Five years of hell—for this. Black hatred swallowed me whole. 1 My eyes burned, but not a single tear would fall. I suppose when you reach the absolute depths of despair, even crying becomes a luxury you can’t afford. But I couldn’t give up. I had to stay near my son. So I swallowed my pride, chewing on the jagged edges of my humiliation. “What do you want to do about… us?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper. Seraphina nonchalantly flicked a strand of hair from her face. “As long as you know your place, I don’t mind keeping a well-behaved dog around.” She paused, her gaze raking over my tattered clothes and scarred body. “Consider it compensation for the five years you lost. Don’t be ungrateful.” Her words were like needles, piercing straight through my heart. I lifted my head, my eyes finding my son. The moment our gazes met, he whipped his head away, as if the mere sight of me would contaminate him. A fine, sharp pain spread from my chest through my entire body. I couldn’t believe it. This was my sweet, obedient boy, now looking at me with nothing but resentment. To save him, I had been dragged to prison before I could even bury my own mother. How many times had I been beaten unconscious, only to be jolted back to life by the single, burning hope of seeing him again? And my sacrifice had only paved the way for someone else’s happiness. My lips twitched into a pained smile. I tried to sound dignified, but my voice trembled uncontrollably. “Seraphina… let’s get a divorce.” At that, she let out a short, sharp laugh. It was followed by the stinging crack of a slap across my face. I stood there, stunned, the imprint of her hand burning on my cheek. Her voice was laced with venom. “A worthless piece of trash like you wants to divorce me?” she spat. “You’re a freak nobody would even pay to fuck! You’d just come crawling back, begging me to take you in!” I stared at her, the woman I once loved, now a stranger spitting poison. My voice dropped to a plea. “Seraphina, I don’t want anything. Just… just give me back my son.” My words seemed to ignite something not in her, but in Leo. He scrambled backward, clinging to Adrian’s leg as if for dear life. “I hate you!” he shrieked. “I don’t want to go with you! I hate dirty things! I want to stay with Daddy Adrian forever!” The innocent words of a child, yet they sliced me to the bone. Adrian patted Leo’s back reassuringly, his other hand sliding possessively around Seraphina’s waist. He looked at me with the smug air of a victor. “Finn, my friend,” he said with a soft chuckle. “Forgive him. I’m afraid I’ve spoiled him a bit these last few years. Don’t take it to heart.” He adjusted his glasses. “While you were away, I took good care of Sera and Leo. You can rest easy.” I opened my mouth, but the words “thank you” felt like ash on my tongue. As if remembering something, Adrian pulled a check from his wallet and held it out to me. A check for five thousand dollars. “I hear it’s tough finding work after… you know. Think of this as a little something from me to you.” His fingers went limp, and the check fluttered to the floor like a dead leaf. His eyes gleamed with undisguised provocation. A vein throbbed in my temple. I exhaled slowly and bent down to pick it up. Before my fingers could touch the paper, a small shoe stomped down on my hand, grinding it into the floor. 2 “Don’t you dare touch my Daddy Adrian’s money!” “Get out of my house, you stinking beggar!” Leo’s face was red with fury as he stomped his foot again and again. I gritted my teeth against the searing pain in my hand, forcing a smile. “Leo, you’ve grown so much. Dad missed you.” Tears welled in my eyes, whether from longing or guilt, I couldn’t tell. “I know you’re angry I was gone for so long. That’s my fault.” This face, the one that had appeared in my dreams every single night, was finally right in front of me. I couldn’t stop myself. I reached out, wanting to pull him into a hug. He scrambled away in terror. “The murderer is trying to grab me!” he screamed. “Dad, save me!” His high-pitched cries were like daggers, leaving me shredded and bleeding. My hand hung in the air, useless, as I watched my son flee into the arms of another man. Seraphina’s face darkened. She lunged forward and kicked me squarely in the chest. “You think a monster like you deserves to be Leo’s father?” she snarled. “You’re a filthy animal! You should have rotted in that cell!” I stumbled backward and fell, the impact jarring my bones. A trickle of blood ran from the corner of my mouth, dripping onto the plush carpet. I felt nothing. I mechanically picked up the check. Looking at the insultingly small sum, I let out a laugh that was closer to a sob. Five years of my freedom, a lifetime of my innocence, and this is all it was worth to them. I pushed myself to my feet and, right in front of them, tore the check into tiny pieces. “I don’t need your pity.” Seraphina’s expression turned thunderous. She snatched a heavy glass ashtray from the coffee table and hurled it at my head. “You ungrateful bastard!” she screamed. “I’m going to teach you a lesson today!” The ashtray shattered against my temple. Warm blood instantly blurred my vision. Agony ripped through me, but I clamped my jaw shut, refusing to cry out. Leo clapped his hands, cheering. “Good job, Mommy! The bad man is bleeding!” Adrian watched the show for a long moment before stepping in, his concern as fake as his smile. “Sera, that’s enough,” he said softly, putting a hand on her arm. “Finn just got back. He doesn’t know the rules yet. Let him learn his lesson the hard way.” He glanced at Leo. “Besides, he is the boy’s biological father. This isn’t good for the child.” Seraphina, panting, gave me another two kicks for good measure before she relented. “If Adrian hadn’t spoken up for you, I wouldn’t have let you off so easily! Now get on your knees and thank him!” Adrian shook his head, pulling a silk handkerchief from his breast pocket and offering it to me. “Wipe the blood. You’re scaring the boy.” I swatted his hand away. He didn’t seem to mind. “Now that you’re back, we’re all one big family,” he said smoothly. “Let’s not have any bad blood between us.” He paused, pushing his gold-rimmed glasses up his nose, a flicker of malice in his eyes. “We don’t have a spare room at the moment. I’m afraid you’ll have to make do with the doghouse for now.” The rage that had been simmering inside me boiled over. I clenched my fists. “Adrian, don’t push me too far!” I growled. “Or are you not afraid of me telling them what really happened that day…” “He has a place to sleep, and that’s more than he deserves!” Seraphina’s shriek cut me off. “One more word out of you and you can get out! You’ll never see your son again!” I looked at Leo, who was watching the scene with a disturbing excitement on his face. The fight drained out of me. I just nodded. Seraphina pinched her nose in disgust and threw a filthy blanket at me. “Go wash up! You stink. The smell is giving me a headache.” The blanket, matted with dog hair and mud, felt like a shroud of shame. Leo giggled and clapped. “The bad man has to use the same things as the doggy! Serves you right!” I limped towards the backyard, every step a fresh wave of pain. A sudden downpour began, the cold rain washing over me, mingling with my blood, but it couldn’t wash away the humiliation that clung to me like a second skin. I curled up in the damp, mildew-scented blanket, pulling it tight around me, trying to hold on to the last shred of my dignity. 3 The night grew cold. I was shivering uncontrollably in the dark. Suddenly, a blinding light hit my face, forcing my eyes open. Adrian stood over me, holding a flashlight. At his side, his Doberman snarled, baring its teeth. “Sorry, Finn,” Adrian said, his voice dripping with false sympathy. “It seems Cerberus here wants his bed back.” He paused, his gaze flicking towards the open sewer grate nearby. He was waiting for me to break. My body trembled, but this time with rage. “Adrian, you’ve gone too far! Aren’t you afraid of retribution? Of a little thing called karma?” He let out a short, contemptuous laugh and squatted down, his voice a low, venomous whisper. “Retribution? I’m sleeping with your wife, I’ve claimed your son, and I control your family’s fortune. Does that sound like retribution to you?” He leaned closer. “Finn, a man this pathetic might as well be dead.” With a roar, I lunged, grabbing the front of his designer shirt. “You think I won’t tell everyone you’re the one who framed me?!” Adrian burst out laughing, easily shoving me off. “You really are an idiot!” he sneered. “There were no cameras on that mountain. Your mother’s body was never found. Who’s going to prove I did anything?” I stared at him, my throat tight, my eyes burning with helpless fury. He grabbed a fistful of my hair, his voice turning icy. “Besides, who in their right mind would believe a convicted murderer?” It was like being struck by lightning. The blood in my veins turned to ice. It was all a trap. A carefully constructed nightmare designed just for me. “You bastard!” I screamed, throwing myself at him again. He sidestepped, and I crashed to my knees on the concrete. The sharp pain was nothing compared to the agony in my soul. “Give me back my son!” I howled into the rain. Just then, a sharp voice cut through the storm. “What do you think you’re doing?!” Seraphina rushed over, shoved me aside, and shielded Adrian, her eyes wide with a concern that made my stomach churn. Behind her, Leo, like a furious little lion, charged at me and sank his teeth into my wrist. The pain was so sharp it made my scalp tingle. He pummeled my chest with his small fists. “You big bully! Don’t you hurt my daddy! I’ll kill you!” My whole body shaking, I tried to embrace him, but he picked up a rock and threw it, hitting me squarely on the forehead. Blood poured into my eyes, hot and sticky. I fought through the pain, my voice a strangled sob. “Leo… Dad didn’t kill anyone.” “Shut up!” Seraphina’s shriek pierced the night. She lunged and punched me hard across the face. “If you spout that nonsense again, I’ll rip your tongue out!” The blow sent me sprawling. My head cracked against the stone steps, and my vision swam with black spots. The cold rain mixed with my blood, seeping into my clothes, a bone-deep chill that had nothing to do with the weather. I lay helpless in a growing pool of my own blood, my gaze fixed on my son. “Leo…” I rasped. “Dad… is not a bad man.” His response was the cruelest blow of all. “Cerberus! Get him! Avenge my daddy!” His childish voice was filled with a terrifying glee that ripped my soul to shreds. The Doberman, with its gleaming white fangs, leaped. Its teeth sank into my calf, and a jolt of pure agony made my body convulse. Leo jumped up and down, pointing. “That’s what you get for bullying my dad! Bite him! Kill him!” The beast tore at my leg, its claws digging deep, bloody gouges into my arms as I curled into a ball, protecting my vital organs but offering no resistance. Blood snaked across the wet concrete. And in that moment, I finally understood. The sharpest blade in the world isn’t the torture of an enemy. It’s the hatred of a loved one, plunged directly into your heart.

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1 When I married William Lowe, he had nothing but debt. For five years, I worked three jobs to pay it off while raising our son, Aster—never complaining, believing our struggles would lead to happiness. Last week, his company secured massive funding. We celebrated, thinking our good days had arrived. Then I saw him on financial news: dressed in a tailored suit, introduced as the “sole heir to a billion-dollar empire,” laughing with his “investor”—socialite Celeste Cheng. The headline read: Lowe Heir Completes Five-Year “Poverty Trial,” Proving His Mettle to the Board. At home, Aster played with a limited-edition robot—one I’d designed during sleepless nights for freelance cash. He looked up, his eyes cold. “Daddy told me everything. You failed the test, Mommy. You love money too much.” My throat tightened. “Aster… what?” “A noble woman doesn’t count pennies,” he recited. “You have a ‘small-minded perspective.’ Your love is cheap.” Every sacrifice—the burns from late shifts, the overtime dizziness—meant nothing to them. I reached for him, but he pulled away. “Don’t touch my robot. You can’t afford it.” On the table lay a divorce agreement. William’s signature was already on it, a flamboyant scrawl, as triumphant as his image on the news. Next to it was a check. My “severance pay” for five years of my youth, three jobs, and countless sleepless nights. The irony was that just last week, we had been celebrating in this very spot. “Anna,” he had said, “the hard days are over. I’m going to make you the happiest woman in the world.” Looking back, it was just the final line of his script before the test ended. My phone rang, the word “Hubby” flashing on the screen. I answered, numb. “You saw it?” William’s voice came through the receiver, devoid of any warmth. “Anna, our ‘poverty trial’ is over. Congratulations on making it to the end. But unfortunately, you’ve been eliminated.” “…A test?” I finally found my voice, but it was as dry as sandpaper. “Yes, a test,” he chuckled, the sound dripping with mockery. “I needed to prove to the board that I could attract a loyal partner and build a business from nothing, even at my lowest point. Celeste is my investor and my real fiancée. You were just a randomly selected ‘wife’ to complete this social experiment.” “So, the tens of millions in debt…” “Oh, that was just another way of saying ‘startup capital.’ How else could I test someone’s character under extreme pressure?” “William,” I said, each word precise, my nails digging into my palms, “you’re a monster.” “Am I? But this ‘monster’ is now the heir to a multi-billion-dollar fortune. Anna, take the check and leave with some dignity. Don’t make me lose the last shred of respect I have for you.” He paused, then added a crueler blow. “By the way, Aster isn’t your son. He’s the product of an IVF procedure between Celeste and me. Your embryo was replaced. You were just an actor playing a role in his ‘social upbringing.’ Now, the real mistress of the house is coming home. Please move out of this ‘Lowe family’ house immediately.” “You told me the IVF failed because of exhaustion…” I felt as if I’d been plunged into an icy abyss. “Celeste and the Lowe family’s legal team will be there in half an hour to handle the handover. Remember, be graceful about it.” He wasn’t even listening. The line went dead. I held the phone like a red-hot iron. “Social upbringing”… So, even my right to be a mother was something they had given me, and then taken away. 2 I didn’t move. I wasn’t going to leave just like that. What was mine, I would take back, piece by piece, with my own two hands. The doorbell rang ten minutes earlier than William had said. They were impatient. I opened the door. Standing there was the same smiling socialite from the news, Celeste Cheng. Behind her were two men in suits, presumably from the Lowe family’s legal team. “Ms. Stone, hello.” Celeste’s voice was a velvet-wrapped knife. She didn’t act superior; instead, she looked at me with a sort of pity. “It must have been so hard on you these past five years. To be honest, you did a better job than I expected. Your acting was… very convincing.” She walked past me into the living room as if she owned the place. “Aster, darling, Mommy Celeste is here.” Aster immediately dropped his robot and ran into her arms like a kitten. “Mommy Celeste! You’re here!” Celeste expertly pulled a small box of Swiss candies from her Chanel bag, unwrapped one, and popped it into Aster’s mouth. “Of course, darling. Mommy Celeste promised you that as soon as Daddy’s ‘game’ was over, I’d come take you home. We’re going to Disneyland in Japan this weekend, how does that sound?” “Yay! I love Mommy Celeste the most!” Their intimate, natural interaction made them look like a real family. I was just an extra who had finished her scene and was supposed to exit the stage. My heart was too numb to feel any more pain. Holding Aster, Celeste glanced around the room, her gaze landing on the second-hand fabric sofa I had found at a flea market. She frowned slightly, as if she had seen something dirty. “William is too much. How could he let you live in a place like this, with such cheap furniture? This stuff is beneath him.” She turned to the lawyer behind her. “Mr. Lee, take a note. Have a cleaning company come later and throw all of this out. Nothing cheap belongs in William’s home.” “Of course, Ms. Cheng.” Every word she spoke was a precise negation of my entire five years of effort. I had scrimped and saved for our shared “future.” In her eyes, it was all just “cheap junk” that sullied her fiancé’s noble status. The lawyer, Mr. Lee, stepped forward and handed me a pen. “Ms. Stone, please sign the divorce agreement. A compensation of five million is the highest industry standard for a five-year ‘role-playing’ project. Mr. Lowe and Ms. Cheng are being very generous.” “Highest industry standard?” I repeated the words, the absurdity of it all hitting me. They had turned my life into a business transaction with a price tag. “Yes,” Mr. Lee said, pushing up his glasses. “Also, Ms. Cheng, in her kindness, has advised me to remind you not to cause any trouble. Any entanglement will be viewed by our legal department as a malicious provocation against the entire Lowe family. I trust you wouldn’t want to see those consequences.” His words were an undisguised threat. Celeste walked over, still holding Aster, a perfect smile on her face. “Ms. Stone, don’t misunderstand. We’re not threatening you. You’re a smart woman. You know how to make the right choice, don’t you?” She looked down at Aster. “Sweetheart, say goodbye to this… auntie. She’s leaving our home now.” Aster peeked out from her embrace. The eyes that once looked at me with such dependence were now filled with impatience and a chilling distance. “Mommy Celeste, can we go now? I don’t want to see her. Daddy says her poor-person smell will rub off on me.” Poor-person smell. Those words shattered the last shred of warmth in my heart. I looked at them, and suddenly, I laughed. 3 My laughter startled Celeste and Mr. Lee. They had probably expected tears, screams, hysterical curses, or pathetic begging. They had not expected laughter. “What are you laughing at?” Celeste’s brow furrowed again. “Nothing,” I said, my laughter dying down, my face as still as a stagnant pond. “I was just thinking, you two are very good actors as well.” I turned and went into the bedroom, pulling several storage boxes out from under the bed. I had bought them a few days ago, planning to organize our clothes for the new season, to welcome our “new life” after the hardship. “Well, well. Finally came to your senses? Ready to pack up and get out?” Celeste leaned against the doorframe, her arms crossed, her voice dripping with scorn. I ignored her. Systematically, one by one, I began to organize my “evidence” from the past five years. Every bank statement from my three jobs over five years, printed out. My own credit card bills, and every single transaction detail from William’s “debt-ridden” supplementary card. Celeste’s expression shifted from mockery to confusion, and then to a sliver of alarm. “Anna, what on earth are you doing? You can’t possibly think you can extort more money with this pile of scrap paper? Let me tell you, it’s useless. We have the best legal team in the country.” I still said nothing. From a separate folder, I took out a thick stack of receipts. Then, I took out the final item: the purchase record and invoice for Aster’s limited-edition robot. The invoice was in my name. The payment was from my salary card. I placed the invoice gently on top of all the other evidence, like a final, damning seal on my five years of absurdity. When I was done, I closed the lids on the boxes. Three large boxes in total. There wasn’t a single piece of clothing, a single pair of shoes, or a single bottle of makeup inside. Only five years of my blood, sweat, time, and a life that had been trampled into worthlessness. I looked up at Celeste and Mr. Lee. “I’m taking these with me.” Mr. Lee clearly found my behavior incomprehensible. “Ms. Stone, these are records of shared household expenses. You have no right to take them unilaterally. And they cannot be used as a basis for demanding more compensation.” “Who said I was demanding more compensation?” I retorted. I looked at Celeste. She was staring at me as if I were insane, her lips curled in an undisguised sneer. “Incorrigible. Still only care about money. Anna, you’re a lost cause.” “Yes,” I nodded, admitting it frankly. “I am incorrigible. I do only care about money.” Because in this world, only money would never betray me. I dragged the heavy boxes of “scrap paper” to the entryway and put on my shoes. From beginning to end, I never looked at Aster again. I only took my ID, passport, bank cards, and these boxes, which were now more important to me than my own life. As I opened the door, ready to leave the “home” I had poured five years of my heart into, Celeste’s voice, not loud but clear enough for me to hear, drifted from behind me. “See, sweetheart? Mommy Celeste was right. A woman like that is not fit to be your mother. Her world revolves around money.” The moment the door closed, I heard their laughter.

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