Category: English

I donated blood, pro bono, for a sick little girl. The doctor, a woman with tired eyes, glanced from the girl to me and murmured, “You two look so much alike.” On an absurd impulse, I plucked a single strand of hair from the girl’s head and sent it off for a DNA test. The results confirmed it. She was my biological daughter. But I had only given birth once, fifteen years ago. So then, whose son was the boy I had raised for over a decade? 01 I sat in my car, the DNA report spread flat on the passenger seat. 99.99% The memory of the hospital, just days ago, flashed in my mind, sharp and insistent. It had been a corporate wellness event—a voluntary blood drive. Lying on the cot next to mine was the recipient, a frail-looking girl named Annika Hayes. The nurse, pulling the needle from my arm and applying pressure to the gauze, took a casual look at us both. “Mrs. Harper,” she’d said, “you and this child are practically twins. The eyes especially—like they were stamped from the same mold.” I had simply smiled then, dismissing it. But as I stood to leave, the girl, Annie, looked up at me, her voice barely a whisper. “Thank you, Auntie.” I froze. Those eyes. The subtle curve of her brow. The stubborn set of her lips when she held them tight—it was a mirror image of my own youth. An utterly ridiculous thought, a monstrous, impossible whisper, took root and overwhelmed me. As I left the hospital, I’d pretended to brush a loose curl from her shoulder and, in the process, discreetly took a sample. Now, this report confirmed that the ridiculous thought was a bloody, life-altering truth. Annika Hayes was my biological daughter. But my only child, the boy I had raised for fifteen years, was Preston Sinclair. Fifteen years ago, I gave birth to Preston at St. Jude’s Private Hospital. It was a terrifying delivery; I hemorrhaged, went into shock, and was wheeled out in a hazy, barely conscious state. When I finally woke, my husband, Weston—Wes—was standing there, holding a swaddled blanket. His eyes were red, but he was smiling. “Jocelyn, it’s a boy. You did it. Our heir.” My mother-in-law, Beverly Sinclair, was beside herself. She snatched the baby from Wes, cooing about the “Sinclair legacy” and their “future Chairman.” She didn’t even glance at me. At the time, submerged in the joy of first motherhood and the exhaustion of surviving, I hadn’t thought twice. Now, the entire memory was a patchwork of gaping flaws. Wes’s eyes, I recalled, had held not just excitement, but a raw, barely contained panic. When I asked what was wrong, he’d simply attributed it to the stress of almost losing me. A pathetic lie that I had swallowed for fifteen years. And Preston. He never resembled me. All our friends and family commented that he was a carbon copy of Wes. I’d never doubted it. He was my husband, after all. He was the father. The air in the car thickened, pressing on my chest until I could barely breathe. This wasn’t a soap-opera mix-up at the hospital. This was a calculated, insidious theft—a robbery of my life and my bloodline. Outside the window, the city lights blurred, casting my reflection in fractured, dancing colors. I wasn’t crying. I was beyond tears. Only a freezing, terrifying certainty remained. I picked up my phone, my fingers white-knuckled around the case, and called my assistant, Amy. “Amy, I need two things done immediately,” my voice was unnervingly steady. “First, use all our resources. I want the archived staff records from the maternity ward at St. Jude’s Private Hospital, fifteen years ago. Every nurse, every orderly, and where they are now.” “Second, immediately file a motion with the bank to freeze every joint account, every fund, stock, and liquid asset held by Weston and myself.” “Ms. Harper, is everything alright?” Amy sounded concerned. “Just do it. Now.” I hung up and started the engine. The cold steering wheel anchored me to reality. Driving home, the familiar road felt foreign. The house I had painstakingly designed, every stone placed with my own heart, now looked like a magnificent cage—a stage for a fifteen-year farce. I unlocked the front door. Laughter echoed from the great room. “Dad, that move was weak!” “Watch it, kid, I’ve still got some magic left!” Wes was cross-legged on the silk rug, battling Preston in a virtual game on the 80-inch screen—a picture of perfect, loving fatherhood. Until today, this scene had been the bedrock of my life, the reward for every sacrifice. Now, it was utterly grotesque. 02 I walked past the leather sofa, bent down, and pulled the power cord from the wall. The explosive game audio died instantly, the enormous screen plunging into silence. “Mom! What the hell?” Preston shot to his feet, annoyed. “I was about to win!” Wes looked up, his face losing its easy smile. “Jocelyn? What’s wrong? You’re home early.” His residual grin made his pleasant demeanor look revoltingly false. Ignoring Preston, I walked straight to the coffee table and tossed the folded DNA report in front of Wes. “What’s this?” he asked, picking it up casually. But as his eyes registered the line, “Probability of Relationship: 99.99%,” and the names, Jocelyn Harper and Annika Hayes, the blood drained from his face with sickening speed. His usually composed, aristocratic features turned to a crumpled white mask. His first instinct was to ball the paper up, his hand shaking violently, trying to hide it. “W-where did you get this trash? It’s a fake! Jocelyn, this isn’t funny!” His transparent terror vaporized the last shred of my marital loyalty. I let out a single, cold laugh, pulled out my phone, and hit ‘play.’ “Hello, this is the Metropolitan Forensics Lab. How can I help you?” “Hello, I’m calling to confirm the results for case number XXXX.” “One moment… Confirmation: The client, Ms. Jocelyn Harper, and the tested subject, Annika Hayes, are confirmed as biological mother and daughter.” The clear, professional recording hammered the final nail into the silence of the room. Wes’s hand dropped, the crushed report tumbling onto the rug. He swayed, completely undone. “Jocelyn, listen to me, there has to be a mistake… a coincidence… I—” He was incoherent, his eyes darting everywhere but at me. Preston, wide-eyed and terrified, looked between us. “Mom? Dad? What are you talking about? Who is Annika Hayes?” I took a deep, steadying breath, suppressing the violent hatred in my core. I spoke to Preston with forced calm. “Preston, go to your room now. Your father and I need to have a private discussion.” Unwilling, but frightened by the palpable tension, he backed away and disappeared, closing the door softly. With just the two of us left, I cut through Wes’s pathetic attempts at defense. “I only have one question for you.” I waited for his frantic eyes to meet mine. “Where is my daughter?” His eyes swam, lips trembling, unable to form a single word of plausible denial. When silence failed him, he tried for emotion. He stepped toward me, reaching for my hand. “Jocelyn, all these years… our marriage… Don’t you trust me? I would never—” I recoiled violently, taking a step back to avoid his touch, my gaze full of raw disgust. “Don’t touch me. I feel contaminated.” The words struck him like a physical blow. I didn’t give him a chance to recover. From my designer handbag, I pulled out a second document—the asset freeze confirmation my attorney had just sent. “All our joint assets, funds, and stocks have been temporarily frozen since four o’clock this afternoon.” I watched his face contort with shock as I continued, each word a shard of ice. “This house? I bought it entirely before our marriage. My name is the only one on the deed.” “Now, get out of my home.” Wes stared at me, as if he were seeing me for the first time. The pliable, cooperative wife who always consulted him was gone, replaced by a cold, calculating stranger. “Jocelyn, you’re insane! You’re going to destroy our family for some flimsy, out-of-the-blue report?” he roared, the mask of the refined gentleman shattered. I walked to the front door, pulled it open, and let the chilly night air rush into the sterile living room. I pointed to the darkness outside. My voice was a frigid whisper. “Until you account for the location of my daughter, you’ll see zero benefit from the life you stole.” “Get out.” 03 The next morning, I was woken by a high-pitched, piercing wail from the front lawn. I didn’t need to look to know who it was. I put on my silk robe and slippers and descended the grand staircase. Beverly Sinclair was sitting on my spotless marble walkway, slapping the ground dramatically and howling like a banshee. Wes stood nearby, looking hollow and haggard, dark circles ringing his eyes—he hadn’t slept. When I opened the door, Beverly’s lament instantly ratcheted up in volume. “Oh, the shame! The tragedy! Why did the Sinclair name have to be cursed with such a malicious woman! How could you do this to my son? Kicking him out, freezing his money! You must have a lover, Jocelyn! You must have birthed some bastard and are now trying to frame my poor Weston to steal our legacy!” She shrieked her accusations, her eyes spitting venom, as if I were the betrayer. A few neighbors were already peeking out their windows. I leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching the pathetic theater unfold. I waited until she was breathless, her throat raw from the effort. Then, I spoke, flatly. “Are you done with your performance, Beverly?” The howling stopped abruptly. “If you are, please get up. The marble is cold. We need to keep you healthy, Mother, so you can watch the next act.” My quiet tone, devoid of warmth, made her flinch. She scrambled up, pointing a manicured finger at my face. “You vicious snake! You wish me ill!” Wes chimed in, stepping to her defense. “Jocelyn, you’ve gone too far. Let my mother inside, and let’s discuss this like adults.” “Discuss?” I smiled, a chilling expression. “This is my house, not yours. You have no authority to invite anyone in.” I focused on Beverly. Her reaction was too extreme. A normal mother-in-law, believing a simple fight was happening, would be focused on mediation. But she instantly launched into an aggressive, pre-emptive strike about “adultery” and “stealing the legacy.” It reeked of guilt. I stared into her flushed, agitated face. “Mother, why are you so upset? Is it the fear of the truth coming out, or are you trying to cover for your son’s crime?” Before she could counter, I reached inside and pulled a second envelope from the console table. This report had been rushed overnight by my security team. I withdrew the report and presented it to her. “This is the DNA profile for Weston Sinclair and Preston Sinclair.” “The result confirms they are father and son.” Both Wes and Beverly froze. I continued, my gaze dissecting Beverly’s face like a surgeon’s scalpel. “However, there is no biological relationship between me and Preston.” “Which means Weston had an affair, fathered a child, and then, fifteen years ago, brought that child home for me to raise.” I locked eyes with Beverly, asking the question I already knew the answer to. “You love this ‘grandson’ so much, Beverly. You must have known all along he wasn’t my son, didn’t you?” Her manic wails instantly ceased. The color drained from her face, leaving her sickly pale. Her eyes swam with panic and fury. She tried to speak, but her lips only twitched. Seeing his mother’s collapse, Wes rushed to steady her, screaming at me. “Jocelyn! Stop your slander! Don’t torment my mother!” I watched the exchange with cold detachment. Beverly’s response was entirely wrong for a woman who had just discovered her son was a cheat. She wasn’t angry at Wes; she was terrified of me. Her reaction wasn’t shock; it was the fury of a plan being exposed. In that moment, the vague, horrific suspicion in my mind solidified into certainty. This wasn’t just Weston’s idea. He was merely the executor. The true orchestrator, the architect of this monstrous lie, was the woman standing before me—the self-proclaimed pillar of the Sinclair family, now shaking with fear and exposure. 04 I closed the door, shutting out the disgusting scene. The sudden silence in the great room was deafening. I leaned against the door, the strength draining from my body. Worse than betrayal was the complete, meticulous calculation of it all. I pulled out my phone. The private investigator had already sent the address and file. High efficiency. I changed into simple clothes, skipping makeup. I had to see with my own eyes the life they had stolen from my daughter. The address was in the old, forgotten side of the city—a maze of low-income housing I’d never seen. I drove my sleek Mercedes through the narrow streets. The buildings were grime-caked tenements, the stucco flaking off in huge patches to expose the bare concrete beneath. The air was thick with the smell of damp rot, cheap oil, and stale garbage. I parked and looked up. Balconies were draped with faded, mismatched laundry, like distressed flags. My daughter. Living here? Following the unit number, I climbed to the fifth floor. The stairs were dim, unlit, the concrete steps sticky underfoot. I stopped before a dented metal door with a faded ‘Welcome’ magnet stuck crookedly to the corner. My heart hammered against my ribs, each beat sharp with agonizing pain. I raised my hand and knocked. After a long pause, the door cracked open. A woman with a waxy, numb-looking face peered out, her eyes wide with suspicion and alarm. It was her: Deidre, the woman from the PI’s photo. I didn’t speak. I simply shoved the door hard. Deidre stumbled back, trying to slam the door shut, but I wedged my shoulder into the frame, forcing my way in. The scene inside stole the air from my lungs. It was a single room, maybe three hundred square feet, all belongings visible: a worn mattress on a cheap frame, a battered chest of drawers, a tiny folding table. The room was dim, the single window half-blocked by the adjacent building. And there, at the small table, sat my daughter, Annika. She was wearing a thin, washed-out hoodie, doing homework under the glow of a small, cheap desk lamp. She was painfully thin, her wrists delicate, looking like a sickly sprout starved of light. On the table next to her textbook was a cup of watery instant ramen with a few pathetic shreds of green onion floating on top. That was her dinner. At the noise, Annie looked up. Her eyes, identical to mine, were filled with a raw mix of shyness and fear. My throat tightened. The grief was so overwhelming it felt like a seizure.

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On the sixth anniversary of our marriage, the junior colleague who had been secretly in love with my husband for eight years knelt before me. She told me that the world we were living in was nothing more than a novel. And that she and my husband were the destined main characters. Because of my interference, she claimed, the plot had gone off course, and our world was on the verge of collapse. Only by setting things right—by them holding a wedding—could everything be restored. I asked my husband, Paul, if he actually believed such a ridiculous story. His brow furrowed instantly, and his voice was raw. “This is just to fix the plot, Cici. Why are you making a scene?” I nodded, turned around, and handed him a divorce agreement. Attached was a corporate resolution to remove him from his position. 1 Our sixth wedding anniversary also happened to be my birthday. That evening, as I was in the kitchen preparing a celebratory dinner for Paul and me, I heard the front door open. “Paul, you’re home! Go wash your hands—” The rest of the words caught in my throat. Because Paul was standing there, hand in hand with Sophia, the junior colleague who had been obsessed with him for eight years, their fingers intertwined. The intimacy of the gesture stole my breath. The welcoming smile I hadn’t had time to retract froze on my face, making me look utterly foolish. “What… what is the meaning of this?” Paul looked down, about to speak, when Sophia suddenly dropped to her knees in front of me. “Cici, please, let me explain.” She held out a small, leather-bound book, her voice choked with emotion. “The truth is, our world isn’t real. We’re living inside a novel.” “And in this novel, Paul and I are the main characters. We’re the ones who are meant to be together.” “I never wanted to destroy your relationship, but the plot has deviated so much. If we don’t correct it, the world will collapse…” A wave of absurdity washed over me. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “What did you say? A novel?” I took the book from her and began to flip through it. To my shock, the story inside was a perfect reflection of the three of us. Even the most private, secret moments between Paul and me were documented in meticulous detail. The only difference was the ending. In the novel, Paul and Sophia lived happily ever after, while I remained unmarried for the rest of my life. On the very last page, a single paragraph was written in stark, bold letters. [WARNING: If the plot has been derailed, Paul must hold a wedding for Sophia and embark on a honeymoon with her, as a real married couple would.] [Failure to do so will result in the collapse of this world, and all will be annihilated.] I snapped the book shut, my fingers trembling uncontrollably. Paul looked at me, the love and deep affection that once filled his eyes now replaced by an endless, chilling indifference. His tone was cold enough to freeze water. “Cici, you have to accept reality.” “I have to marry Sophia. You and I… we were the mistake.” A fire ignited in my chest, scorching my insides until I could barely breathe. “Don’t tell me you actually believe this garbage.” I couldn’t stop myself from screaming. “Paul, have you lost your goddamn mind?” “Then you tell me!” he roared back, his voice suddenly sharp. “How else could every single private detail of our lives be written in here so perfectly?” I froze, unable to find a single word in my defense. Seeing my silence, Paul scoffed. He helped Sophia to her feet and wrapped a protective arm around her. “Whether you can accept it or not, this is the truth.” “Sophia is my fated wife.” He started to lead her toward the door. The simple action was like a tiny, sharp needle, plunging directly into my heart. “Paul!” I lurched forward, my voice a raw cry. “If you walk out that door with her today, I will divorce you!” He turned back, his gaze dark and heavy as he stared at me. Then, he spat out two words, cold and final. “You’re being completely irrational.” And with that, he left with Sophia, never once looking back. 2 I didn’t snap out of my daze until the smell of burning food drifted from the kitchen. A light rain had begun to fall outside. I walked to the window and looked down, just in time to see Paul carefully shielding Sophia from the rain as he helped her into his car. He treated her as if she were the most precious, fragile thing in the world. The sight made me dizzy. It seemed like only yesterday that he spoke of her with nothing but contempt. Sophia had been Paul’s protégé at the firm. She had chased him for eight long years. Even back in college, she was bold, declaring her love for him in any setting, regardless of who was around. She would wait for him outside his dorm every morning with breakfast. He never took it, but she was always there, a persistent annoyance he couldn’t shake. When he played basketball, her cheers were louder than mine, completely ignoring the stares of everyone around us. People used to mock her for throwing herself at him only to be rejected. She would just laugh it off, her voice ringing with conviction. “I love him. There’s nothing shameful about that.” Her brazen attitude completely disregarded my existence as his actual girlfriend. Back then, Paul would wrap his arm around my waist and sneer at her, “You have no shame.” That was the first time I ever saw Sophia cry. Her eyes were red, but she forced a defiant smile as tears streamed down her face. The wind tousled her hair, giving her a look of broken beauty. I remember Paul’s fingers tightening on my waist. At the time, I just thought he felt a flicker of guilt for making a young woman cry. But looking back now, perhaps that was the moment his heart began to soften for her, a seed of pity and affection taking root. I clutched my chest, a sharp pain radiating from its very core. I couldn’t understand how, in just a few short months, they could have become so close. Could it really be true? Could this world really be just a novel? My gaze fell upon the book, still lying discarded on the floor. I picked it up and started from the beginning, searching for clues. The early parts of the story were indeed a perfect match to our shared history. But it was the chapter detailing the shift in their relationship that made my blood run cold. According to the book, on Sophia’s 23rd birthday, she sent Paul a message. She asked him to meet her at a hotel, her words brutally direct, a plea dripping with desperate hope. [This is the fifth year I’ve been in love with you. I just want one dream to come true. Please, I’m begging you.] Two hours later, Paul replied with a single word: [Okay.] My entire body began to shake. I remembered that day all too well. It was the day I was rear-ended in a car accident. The day I had a miscarriage and was rushed to the hospital. I had called Paul over and over, but my calls went unanswered. He showed up later, his eyes red with feigned remorse, explaining that he would spend the rest of his life making it up to me, healing the damage done to my body. I never imagined the reason he didn’t answer my calls was because he was keeping an appointment with her. And his promises to be “better” weren’t born of love; they were a hollow penance for his guilt. By the time I reached the end of the book, I was sobbing, tears blurring the words on the page. The immense grief was like a thousand arrows piercing my heart. I don’t know how long I cried before I finally fell into a restless, exhausted sleep. 3 When I was woken by noises the next morning, the rain had long since stopped. Sunlight streamed through the window, bathing the world in a bright, clear light, free of shadows. For a fleeting moment, I almost believed that everything that had happened yesterday was just a terrible nightmare. But the sound of conversation from the other room shattered that illusion. I got out of bed and opened my door to see Sophia helping Paul pack a suitcase. When she saw me, she bit her lip, a picture of shy embarrassment, but her eyes couldn’t hide a flicker of triumph. “Oh, Cici. I’m so sorry, did we wake you?” “Paul is taking me on a destination wedding and honeymoon, so I came over to help him pack.” I stared at the suit she was holding—a suit I had personally chosen for him—and found myself speechless. Suddenly, Sophia’s eyes welled with tears. “Cici, did I upset you?” “I’m so sorry. What can I do to make you forgive me?” With that, she made a show of starting to kneel again. Instantly, Paul strode over, pulled her up, and wrapped her in his arms, pointing an accusing finger at me. “What the hell are you doing, Cici? Why are you bullying her like this?” “We are doing this to fix the plot, to stop the world from collapsing! What right do you have to make her kneel and apologize?!” “We haven’t done anything wrong!” His voice grew louder, each word a hammer blow to my heart. I stared at him, a heavy stone lodged in my chest, making it impossible to breathe. My eyes were sore and swollen, but it felt as though I had no tears left to cry. “Paul, from the moment I walked out here, I haven’t said a single word.” My voice was a raw, hoarse whisper, but I held my head high, refusing to let him see how broken I was. “Why are you screaming at me?” “Do you… feel even a shred of guilt towards me? Your wife?” He was silent for a long moment, but there was no pity in his eyes, only a cold, detached calm. “Cici, that title—wife—was something you stole in the first place.” “If anyone should feel ashamed, it’s you. You took the role that was always meant for Sophia.” A laugh, empty and broken, escaped my lips. I felt all my strength drain away, and I collapsed onto the sofa. I watched, numb, as they finished packing and left. A short while later, my phone buzzed. I picked it up and saw a notification from my bank. A charge from a high-end wedding planning agency. The amount was over a million dollars. My breath hitched. The dam of anger and grief finally broke, flooding me with a white-hot rage. I couldn’t take it anymore. I drove straight to the agency. I burst through the door just as Paul was about to sign the contract. I snatched the pen from his hand, my voice shaking with fury. “Paul, are you insane? This is our marital property!” “How can you spend this much money on a wedding for her?!” Before the staff could intervene, Paul shoved me aside. He was so strong that a sharp pain shot through my shoulder. I staggered back, nearly falling to the floor. “You’re just a housewife, Cici,” he sneered. “I earn all the money in this family. You have no right to tell me how to spend it!” His words were like daggers. My world seemed to stop. I couldn’t hear anything but the roaring in my ears, as a suffocating darkness enveloped me. The company, Langford Enterprises, was the legacy my father had left me. The year I graduated from college, my father passed away from a long illness, leaving me his entire business empire. During those dark days, I barely slept. It was only with the help of my father’s old friends on the board and the constant support of Paul that I managed to keep Langford Enterprises from crumbling. In our second year of marriage, I became pregnant. Paul convinced me to step back and focus on our family, to hand the reins of the company over to him. I never, ever imagined this was what he truly thought of me. Seeing me speechless, Paul let out a cold laugh. He ripped the pen from my hand and signed the contract with a flourish. Then, he took Sophia’s hand and walked straight past me, out the door, without a single backward glance. For the next month, Paul never contacted me. Then, on the last day, a package arrived. I opened it. It was filled with photographs. Wedding photos, travel photos, selfies. They all had one thing in common: the only two people in them were Paul and Sophia. And in every single one, their happiness was radiant, practically leaping off the page.

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My parents’ biological daughter, who was kidnapped seventeen years ago, came home. Mom held her in her arms, calling her sweetheart again and again. But she stared at me, feigning innocence: “Since I’m back, shouldn’t sister go back to her own home?” She thought I was a thief adopted to enjoy her privileged life. But she didn’t realize that after she said this, the house fell into instant silence. 1 Zoe is my parents’ biological daughter. She was kidnapped and sold to a remote mountainous area when she was young, and only returned home today. I just came back from baseball practice. As soon as I reached the door, I heard suppressed crying from inside the house. Walking in, I found my mom hugging a girl, crying uncontrollably. My dad stood beside them, a six-foot-tall man with red eyes. Mom’s voice was hoarse: “Mom has finally waited for you.” “You don’t know how much I regret leaving you alone with that nanny.” I instantly understood the girl’s identity. My parents had a biological daughter. At that time, they were starting a business and had no time to take care of her, so they hired a nanny. Both of them left early and returned late every day, spending little time even with their daughter, so naturally, they didn’t know the nanny was a habitual kidnapper. Later, when the child was four years old, she was sold by the nanny, and they couldn’t find her for many years. “Who is this?” A weak voice brought me back to reality. I looked up and found her staring at me. I frowned subconsciously; her gaze made me a bit uncomfortable. She reacted strongly, flinching and leaning closer into my mom’s arms. Mom patted her back soothingly and said with a smile, “Don’t be afraid, this is your sister.” Mom introduced me again: “Sophia, this is your sister, Zoe.” “But, I remember I don’t have a sister.” She hesitated for two seconds and looked at me timidly. Mom said: “Sophia is…” I smiled and took over: “I was adopted.” “Oh, so that’s it.” Her voice weakened, murmuring listlessly: “Mom and Dad already have a child.” Mom quickly hugged her heartache: “Zoe, having a sister isn’t a bad thing. There’s one more person in the family to love you.” Zoe looked gloomy, tears spilling from her eyes, “I thought Mom and Dad would only love me alone. Why share the love that belongs to me with my sister?” 2 Now I’m sure my discomfort wasn’t an illusion. She has full hostility towards me. But it’s understandable. She suffered so much outside before coming home. Seeing her biological parents meticulously raising another child, she naturally feels uncomfortable. I was just about to explain to her: “Sister Zoe, actually I am…” Zoe inadvertently amplified her crying: “Should I not have come back? Now I’m disturbing your life as a family of three?” My dad was anxious instantly: “Zoe, what nonsense are you talking about! Your mom and I have looked forward to this for so many years. We are too happy you are back. Which parents are willing to let their children suffer outside?” Zoe looked at my dad helplessly: “Really?” “Of course!” Receiving a positive answer, she smiled through tears, hugged my dad tightly, and leaned her head on him dependently. “Thank you, Dad.” Mom and Dad breathed a sigh of relief. The next second she suddenly suggested: “Since I’m back, shouldn’t sister go home?” The air instantly stilled, only the shallow breathing of everyone could be heard. She looked at my mom with expectant eyes. Mom subconsciously avoided it. Dad pretended to drink tea to avoid her gaze. She finally realized something was wrong, and panic appeared on her face: “Dad, did I say something wrong?” I saw the dissatisfaction flashing in her eyes and was slightly stunned. Dad coughed: “Two daughters in our family give Dad face when spread out. Let’s not change it.” Mom also chimed in: “Yes, you just came back. If you don’t understand anything, you can ask Sophia for help.” Zoe didn’t seem to expect this request to be rejected so decisively, and looked at me subconsciously. I hooked my lips at her: “Sure.” Taking my baseball bat, I turned and went out the door. Mom’s panicked voice came from behind: “Sophia, Sophia.” 3 I walked directly to the neighbor’s house next door. Unlocked it with my fingerprint and went straight in. This household lives my nominal aunt and uncle, actually my biological parents. That’s right, I was adopted by my current parents. So when Zoe showed hostility towards me, although I understood, I wouldn’t be cheap enough to think I owed her anything. You know, it was my aunt (current mom) who lost her daughter back then and begged my biological mom on her knees to adopt me in despair. My biological mom didn’t agree at first. She gave birth to three sons before expecting a daughter like me, so how could she give me away? But my aunt and uncle were willing to buy a house next to mine, and because they were going crazy looking for their daughter and looked inhumanly thin, my biological mom relented and agreed. My name is Sophia Shen, taking my biological mom’s surname. The middle name is my biological dad’s surname. This was the only request my biological mom made for my aunt to adopt me. So people outside who didn’t know spread rumors that my aunt and uncle were deeply in love and let their only daughter take her mother’s surname. Even Zoe thought I lived the privileged life that belonged to her and enjoyed the pampering and favoritism that belonged to her. But I should have been loved by thousands. To be honest, if I were raised by my biological parents, I would be ten thousand times happier than now. After all, I have a pair of chic and loving parents, a ruthless CEO big brother, a gentle and jade-like hospital director second brother, and a willful and flamboyant director third brother. I have many backers, and they are strong. Recalling the dissatisfaction and resentment in Zoe’s eyes towards me, I tutted lightly. The days ahead are afraid to be restless. The new cousin who came back is a “white lotus” (someone who pretends to be innocent but is actually manipulative). 4 Since I can remember, my biological parents and brothers haven’t ignored me. They even took excellent care of me when my aunt and uncle had work. They told me more than once that although I was adopted by my aunt, the family always welcomed me back. For this reason, they specially prepared a room for me, with my exclusive study and piano room. So I didn’t feel uncomfortable coming back at all, lying on the sofa eating the fruit cut by the maid leisurely. Rapid footsteps came from outside the door. My mom and dad rushed in: “Sophia, Sophia.” “What’s wrong?” Mom breathed a sigh of relief when she saw me and quickly cupped my face. “Baby Sophia has been wronged. Zoe is a bit sensitive just coming back, don’t be angry.” I asked back: “So I deserve to be unwelcome?” Dad was startled: “What are you saying?!” “We watched you grow from a little one into a big girl. You are our own daughter. Who dares not welcome you?” Mom also said: “Sophia, saying this really cuts Mom’s heart.” “Alright, then I don’t want to go back and hear her say such bad luck words. I’ll stay here for a few days.” Mom and Dad said in unison: “No, you go back with Mom. I’m worried about you.” One on the left and one on the right, one arm around the shoulder, one arm around the waist, took me back next door. This is afraid that I will stay at my biological parents’ house and never go back. It seems that they have not been completely occupied by Zoe. I lowered my eyes. The reason why I left so decisively was actually a test for them. Wanted to see if they really didn’t plan to want me after having their biological daughter. But now it seems that I worried too much, and some people thought too much. My gaze inadvertently swept across a window on the second floor, noticing a figure standing behind the curtain. I smiled. Zoe, I won this round. 5 Actually, I don’t have much malice towards Zoe. After all, she is my parents’ biological daughter, and actually my cousin. Although I am arrogant, I have always been protective of my own people. So when I first saw her, I felt some pity in my heart. Unfortunately, her act of wanting me to get out as soon as she arrived home turned me off instantly. Since she doesn’t want to recognize me as a sister, I won’t rush to befriend her. After returning home, Zoe didn’t provoke me on the surface, but there were many small actions behind the scenes. Deliberately showing intimacy with Mom in front of me, using a gentle face to befriend the servants at home. She tried to show her harmlessness and gentleness from various aspects, trying to highlight the difference from me. But I just watched coldly without any action. Only those who lack love since childhood will take love seriously. People like me who have received abundant love since childhood won’t take weak love to heart at all, nor do they have the chance to actively ask for love. Because even without making such efforts, I still know I am loved. So, I was too lazy to argue with her about a series of small actions she did. The means were really too clumsy. However, although I didn’t want to argue with her, it was too annoying to have someone dangling next to me every day. I called my big brother directly. The central idea was four words: Send money, spending. Big brother called back instantly. Listening to the sound next to him, it seemed he was still in a meeting, “Sophia, were you wronged?” I subconsciously acted coquettishly: “Yeah, Zoe is so annoying, picking on me every day.” My brother coaxed me: “Don’t be afraid, brother will back you up. When brother finishes his business trip, we will move your household registration back home.” I comforted: “Don’t worry brother, how could I suffer a loss.” Hanging up the phone, three million entered the card, note: Pocket money. I beamed with joy, changed clothes and planned to go shopping at the mall. 6 When going downstairs, I heard lively laughter in the living room. I saw Zoe snuggling docilely beside Mom, both smiling. Sensing movement, she looked up and gave me a provocative look. I sneered. Thought this would make me jealous? Passing the sofa, Mom saw I seemed to be going out and immediately took out her phone: “Sophia, don’t shortchange yourself when shopping. Mom will transfer you some money.” I hummed “Mm” and successfully saw Zoe’s face turn black. In her perception, the money in the family is all hers and shouldn’t be used for an outsider like me. Sometimes it’s quite interesting, like raising a little figurine that changes face. She suddenly spoke: “Can I go shopping, Mom? I haven’t visited a big city mall yet.” Mom immediately felt distressed. Thinking it was her first time, she said: “Of course, Mom will take you.” Mom looked at me again, tone affectionate: “Baby going to pick up the bag ordered last time today? Let Mom accompany you to shop, okay?” I knew she was afraid I would feel a gap in my heart seeing her taking Zoe to the mall alone. “No…” I didn’t want to agree at first, but seeing Zoe’s resentful expression out of the corner of my eye, I changed my mind. “Sure.” When getting in the car, Zoe sat next to my mom first. I glanced coldly and drove a Maserati straight out of the garage. Passing in front of them, seeing Zoe’s jealous and regretful expression, I slowly hooked my lips. The pattern is too small. You think I play such boring games with you? Naive. What I am best at is breaking the rules when I am not satisfied with them. But Zoe is quite tolerant and quickly restrained her expression. “Sister is really amazing, unlike me, seeing such a beautiful car for the first time.” I put on sunglasses and said lazily: “Since sister likes it, look at it a few more times.” I waved my hand, stepped on the gas and left directly. 7 Waited for them at the mall. Mom held my hand, voice gentle: “Let’s accompany you to get the bag first, okay? Sophia.” “Okay.” I readily agreed, holding my mom’s arm as usual. Zoe fell behind alone, seeming to be angry about what happened just now. At this moment, she didn’t fake a smile as usual, but pulled a long face. Suddenly, Zoe’s exasperated voice came from behind: “Mom! He won’t let me in.” Mom realized she was stopped outside by the security guard at the door. “Zoe, why did you go to the back.” Mom went over to bring her in. She threw herself into Mom’s arms crying. “Why did he stop me? Is it because sister doesn’t want me to follow you?” I watched her performance expressionlessly, had to say impressive. Am I some kind of cheap person? Can I be blamed for this kind of thing? Mom immediately vindicated me: “What are you saying, Zoe? It’s the security guard who doesn’t know you and wants you to line up.” Zoe had teary eyes: “Then why didn’t sister have to line up?” I laughed tears out: “I’m a VIP here, sister. Starting at three million a year.” I clearly saw Zoe stunned for a moment, then showed a jealous look. She said with a crying voice: “My family’s annual expenses were only two thousand dollars before.” Mom immediately felt distressed and hugged Zoe tightly. “Zoe, you suffered.” “It’s okay Mom, I’m already very happy to see you again.” I leaned aside, commenting in my heart: The little white lotus has a set of skills for pretending to be obedient and silly. However— I interrupted her lyricism and said with a half-smile: “Sister Zoe, you don’t have to work so hard now. Now the monthly pocket money has doubled many times.” Zoe looked righteous: “Sister, money is not the most important thing to me. Being together as a family neatly is what makes me happiest.” These words simply spoke into my mom’s heart. She looked at Zoe gently, with a face full of emotion and rejoicing. I turned my head and sighed: Fine, a highly skilled white lotus against a silly sweet girl who only knows buy buy buy, one hit one accuracy.

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I am Riley. I’m known as the walking, breathing, human bad omen. The kind of person whose bad luck is so potent, a stray dog will trip over its own shadow just passing me on the street. My best friend, Sadie, who I’d been attached to since kindergarten, got sweet-talked into a “crypto investment” scheme that turned out to be a Pig Butchering compound in Southeast Asia. She called me, crying, begging me to find a way to get her out. To save her, I walked straight into the lion’s den, offering myself up as the next mark. On my first day at the compound, The Apex, the small-time thug assigned to watch me slipped on a patch of dry concrete and shattered his kneecap. A compound fracture. The next day, the supervisor tried to force me into the server room to learn how to run the scam. The moment my finger touched the keyboard, the entire network system went dark, the main transformer blew sky-high, and the sky lit up with fire. On the third day, the sector boss, far from punishing me, decided to reward me. He’d barely dropped his trousers when the rusty ceiling fan above his head broke free and swung down, severing his… well, let’s just say it earned him an emergency trip to the med bay. In three short days, the compound was chaos—alarms blaring, walls crumbling, and everyone running around like headless chickens. A month later, the head of the whole operation called the international police hotline himself. I heard the sobbing on the line. “Officer, please! I’m begging you, come and get this walking disaster and her friend! We surrender! We confess!” … 1 Inside the main office of The Apex compound. Viper, the operation’s manager, gripped the phone receiver so hard his knuckles were white. His face was etched with sheer terror. “Hello?! Hello!! Don’t hang up! Sir! I’m serious!” “I am a scam artist! I’m trying to confess! I have two hundred victims locked up here! I’ll give you everything!” “I only have one condition: you need to send a private jet—no, send a rocket—to take the woman we call Riley, the Plague, off my hands!” “The faster the better! We’ll pay the travel expenses! Double the rate!!” A voice came through the receiver: “Sir, impersonating a wanted felon to report a false emergency is a crime.” “And try to make up a more believable story. A scammer offering to buy the victim’s ticket? Do you think we’re idiots?” The dial tone hummed. “Son of a—!!!” Viper slammed the desk phone onto the ground. Screeeech— A shard of the receiver bounced into a live socket. A flash of blue light, and the massive fish tank boomed, shattering. Several expensive Asian Arowana fish flopped desperately on the wet floor. Viper shrieked, scrambling onto the genuine leather sofa to escape the chaos. “See?” I took a slow sip of my tea, sitting calmly in the chair across from him. “I told you. I have the Jinx. A built-in, inverse causality engine. You didn’t believe me, and you tried to call the cops on yourselves.” “Now look. Even the authorities think you’re insulting their intelligence.” Viper spun around, his eyes shot through with red veins. In the past three days, I wanted ice water, the ice machine exploded; I needed to use the restroom, the sewage backed up and flooded the cafeteria; I wanted to watch the evening news, the satellite dish fell off the roof and crashed through the finance office. “Riley…” Viper gritted his teeth, his hand instinctively reaching for the pistol tucked into his waistband, but he hesitated, then drew it back. “Fine. You don’t want to leave, do you?” Viper took a deep, shuddering breath. “Then you won’t. Get her! Throw her in the Pit! The lowest level!” “That sub-level dungeon is nothing but mud and dead men. There is no way you can tear down the compound from there! Lock her up until she rots!!” The door slammed open. Rattler, a one-eyed enforcer limping on a crutch, stormed in with a few of his men. “Viper, she’s mine!” Rattler fixed his one good eye on me. “This bitch broke my leg! Before she goes to the Pit, I’m collecting some interest!” He advanced on me, swinging a leather whip embedded with steel barbs. “Rattler, don’t be stupid! Just take her…” Viper tried to warn him. I sighed, setting down my teacup. “Rattler, if I were you, I wouldn’t swing that whip.” “Shut your damn mouth! I’m going to carve that smug look right off your face!” Rattler swung his arm in a wide arc, the whip cutting the air as it screamed toward my face. I didn’t move. I counted to “Three.” Snap! The tip of the whip hooked onto the massive crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling. The hanging bracket instantly snapped. CRASH!! The chandelier plummeted, smashing directly onto Rattler’s head. Rattler didn’t even manage a cry. He was instantly buried under a mountain of broken glass and twisted metal. His exposed legs twitched twice, then went still. The office went silent. The lackeys stood frozen, mouths agape. Viper remained perched on the sofa, his face a ghostly white. “Get…” He pointed a frantic finger at the doorway. “Get her out of here… get her out now!! She is a goddamn monster!!” “Don’t touch her! Use the riot poles! Keep your distance!!” A chaotic struggle ensued. A squad in padded riot gear pushed me out of the office using two-meter-long poles. As I was being prodded away, I gave a small wave to Viper. “Oh, and… remember to fix the fish tank. That exposed wiring is a fire hazard.” “GET OUT!!!” Viper’s roar echoed behind me, followed by another muffled CRASH. … The Pit was located on the third sub-level. The iron door groaned open, and a wave of putrid stench washed over me. “Get in, you little freak!” A guard shoved me with a pole into the pitch-black, fetid water and quickly slammed the door shut. Splash! The dirty water rose past my knees. I found my footing, and from the darkest corner, I heard a faint whimper. “Riley…?” The voice was hauntingly familiar. I whipped my head around, using the dim hallway light filtering through the bars to make out the figure huddled in the corner. It was Sadie. Sadie, who was pathologically obsessed with her appearance, was huddled in the muck. She was covered in bruises, her face so swollen I barely recognized her, and she was desperately clutching half a piece of moldy bread. The fury inside me spiked to a boiling point. “Sadie!” My throat choked up. I rushed over and pulled her into a tight hug. “Why are you so stupid!” Sadie sobbed hysterically into my shoulder. “I told you to call the police! Why did you come here? They’ll kill you!” “I did call,” I said, stroking her back. “But the police said a cross-border raid takes time. I was afraid you wouldn’t last that long, so I came to check in.” “What good is checking in! This is a death wish!” Sadie cried harder. “It’s okay,” I wiped the mud from her face. “I have my little… thing. Remember?” Sadie paused, the memory of all the bizarre, unbelievable incidents that had surrounded me since childhood flashing through her mind. Like in middle school, when the teacher made me go on stage to read a poem, and the moment I opened my mouth, the entire stage collapsed. Or in high school, when I tried to sneak into a sketchy internet cafe for an all-nighter, but before I could even open the door, the police raided and shut the place down. “But… this is different. They have guns…” Sadie pointed desperately at the guards outside the iron bars. We weren’t the only ones in the Pit. There was a man with a broken leg, Ben, who was tricked into construction work. And a young college student with glasses, Trevor, locked up for failing to meet his coding quota. They watched me with dull, vacant eyes. “Save your breath, newbie,” Ben leaned against the wall, his voice a hoarse whisper. “Once you’re in the Pit, you’re just waiting to die. See those wires up there? If they feel like it, they’ll turn on the juice, and we all become grilled fish.” I looked up at the few frayed wires dangling precariously above the water. I sighed and spoke to Ben with complete sincerity. “Try not to be too pessimistic, man. In my experience, if they try to electrocute us, the transformer will most likely explode first, or the guard flipping the switch will be the one who gets shocked. The people who try to hurt me usually end up leaving faster.” Ben stared at me like I was a complete lunatic. The words had barely left my mouth. The iron door above the Pit was pulled open. A drunken guard, reeking of stale booze, unzipped his fly, ready to relieve himself down below. “Here you go, you little pigs! Drink the General’s holy water! Hahahahaha!” Ben and Trevor swallowed their rage, bowing their heads in humiliation. Sadie screamed, burrowing herself deeper into my arms. I frowned, a knot of pure disgust tightening in my stomach as I looked at the guard. The next second, a piercing scream sliced through the night. “AH!! It’s stuck!! It’s stuck!!!” The guard’s hand jerked, and the liquor bottle he was holding smashed onto his toe. He slipped on the wet floor and fell headfirst into the Pit. Plop! He landed right next to the drooping electric wires. The water splashed the wires, creating a shower of blue sparks. “Er-er-er-er…” The guard thrashed and convulsed wildly in the water, his eyes rolling back. Luckily, he landed far enough away that by the time the current reached us, we only felt a slight, buzzing tingle. Sadie and I were completely unharmed. The guard, however, started foaming at the mouth in seconds, passing out cold. His face was submerged in the sewage, bubbling faintly. The Pit went utterly silent. Ben’s jaw dropped, nearly dislocating. Trevor adjusted his bent glasses, pointing a trembling finger at me. “Th-that… was you too?” I shrugged, a look of innocence on my face. “He just wasn’t careful. See? Bad intent meets bad karma. That’s just how the universe works.” The unconscious guard in the water, while satisfying, also spelled serious trouble. Not long after, the changing shift noticed something was wrong and the alarm instantly blared. “Escape! An attempted escape!!” The piercing siren echoed throughout the compound. The iron door was brutally kicked open. A dozen powerful flashlights blinded us. This time, it wasn’t just thugs. The crowd parted, and a middle-aged man in a traditional Chinese-style jacket, spinning two iron walnuts in his hand, strolled in. Behind him were Viper and a company of heavily armed mercenaries. This was the compound’s true power, the actual behind-the-scenes boss: Silas Blackwood. Silas looked at the guard floating in the water, then at me, and grinned. “Interesting.” His voice was gravelly. “Pull the body out. As for the others, take them all to the main yard.” We were herded to the main courtyard. It was late at night, but the compound was lit up like a football stadium. Hundreds of “marks” were violently woken up and forced to stand around the perimeter to witness the execution. Silas sat on a massive armchair, idly toying with a golden Desert Eagle handgun. “I am a man who believes in fate the most, and yet, I believe in fate the least.” Silas pointed the muzzle of the gun at me. “I hear you’re the Walking Calamity? The jinx who killed several of my best men?” I stood in the cold wind, shielding the trembling Sadie behind me, meeting his gaze directly. “Mr. Blackwood, some things are better left believed than dismissed.” “Hahahahaha!” Silas roared with laughter, then instantly dropped his expression, his face darkening. “Go to hell with your bad luck! In this world, I am God! I am fate!” He made a sharp gesture. Two mercenaries rushed forward and grabbed Sadie. “Let go of me! Riley! Help me!!” Sadie struggled wildly. “Stop!” I tried to lunge forward, but two gun barrels were instantly pressed against my temples. Silas grabbed a fistful of Sadie’s hair, pressing the muzzle of the Desert Eagle against her temple. “Riley, is it?” Silas grinned viciously, his finger resting on the trigger. “You think you’re such a jinx? Come on! Jinx me now! Let’s see whose luck runs out faster—your bad mojo, or my bullet!” Sadie’s face was white, tears streaming silently down her cheeks. “Riley… don’t worry about me… run…” Watching this, I clenched my fists. “Silas.” I took a deep breath, forcing myself to remain calm. “I’m a jinx, not a monster. The debt is between you and me. You want to kill someone? Kill me. Let her go.” “You don’t get to bargain with me!” Silas roared, “Get on your knees!!” BANG! He fired a shot into the air. “Kneel! Or the next bullet blows her brains out!” Sadie shook her head frantically, her eyes full of pleading. “No… Riley, have some backbone… don’t kneel for this scum…” “Beat her!” Silas gave the command. A mercenary next to him slammed the butt of his rifle into Sadie’s back. Pugh! Sadie gasped, spitting out a mouthful of blood, collapsing limply to the ground. “Sadie!!” My eyes burned with fury. “I’ll kneel!” I ground my teeth, bending my knees. If it meant saving Sadie’s life, my pride was meaningless. But. I looked up, staring intently at Silas, my eyes icy cold. “Silas, I truly did not want to kneel.” “This bow is too heavy for you to bear.” “It’ll take years off your life.” My knees slammed hard onto the rough ground. In that moment. It felt like a shackle snapping. “Hahahahaha! Look, everyone! The Jinx is kneeling!” Silas roared with laughter. “What causality engine, what walking calamity? When faced with my gun, you’re all just dogs on a leash!” The surrounding mercenaries and thugs joined in the mocking laughter. “Silas, now that I’ve knelt, can we discuss…” I fought back the nausea in my throat, ready to negotiate her release. “Who told you you could speak?” Silas’s face twisted in rage. He lifted his foot, and his military boot drove hard into my shoulder. Thump! I was knocked off balance, sent sprawling onto the ground, my cheek scraping painfully against the rough dirt. Before I could get back up, the military boot was planted squarely on the side of my face. “You want to save her? Fine.” Silas looked down at me, the dirt from his sole grinding against my skin. “The kneeling was for my fallen men. Now, I want you to kowtow.” “Make it loud! You knock your head, and I’ll consider letting your little friend suffer a little less.” “Don’t! Riley! Don’t listen to him! He’s an animal! He won’t let us go!” Sadie’s voice was raw with crying, but two burly men held her down, unable to move. I was prone on the ground, my mouth full of the metallic tang of blood and the earthy stench of mud. But I looked at Sadie, bruised and bleeding nearby. Even knowing he was lying, I couldn’t risk the chance that he wasn’t. “Fine.” I pushed up with my hands, slowly lifting my torso, then slammed my head down hard. Dong! One. “Oh, that wasn’t loud enough! Didn’t you eat breakfast?” Silas mocked, digging a finger into his ear. DONG!! Two. A sharp pain exploded in my forehead. Blood traced a line down my brow bone, obscuring one eye. My vision was smeared red. “Hahahahaha! Keep going! Don’t stop! You don’t stop until I tell you to!” Silas laughed hysterically. He turned, waving to his men behind him. “What are you idiots waiting for? Take out your phones and record this! Send it to the outside world! Let those clueless marks see what happens when you cross me!” I mechanically repeated the motion of slamming my head down. Until— “Alright, this is boring.” Silas suddenly kicked my ribs. I heard a distinct crack. The shattering pain made me instantly curl into a fetal position. “I’m tired of playing.” Silas accepted a cigar, took a long drag, and then flicked the smoldering ash directly onto the back of my hand. Sizzzz— The smell of burning flesh hit the air. But I still didn’t make a sound, only staring intensely at him. That look made Silas deeply uncomfortable. “Damn, that gaze is bad luck.” Silas swore, his murderous intent fully ignited. “I thought about keeping you around for a bit, but it looks like you genuinely want to die.” He waved his hand. “Bring the oil drums.” “Since this bitch’s head is so hard, let’s light them up like lanterns. Give the others a show and warm things up.” Sadie had stopped crying. She closed her eyes in despair, seeming to accept her fate. Several mercenaries leered as they dragged over cans of gasoline. I struggled to prop myself up on one elbow, my breathing ragged with blood. The blood from my forehead ran into my mouth. But I smiled. “Silas…” My voice was a raw croak. “I just knocked my head nine times.” “Nine, the number of closure. I paid the cosmic debt.” “Now, it’s yours to settle.” Silas froze for a moment, then flew into a rage. “Still talking nonsense when you’re about to die! Pour the gas! Pour it all!!” Two mercenaries lifted the drums. WHOOSH! The acrid gasoline drenched me from head to toe, stinging my cuts. At the same time, to prevent any final resistance, dozens of mercenaries raised their guns. “Send them off!” Silas grinned, clicking his lighter. In that fraction of a second, with the lighter already ignited and flying toward us— My lips curled slightly. “See you in hell, you piece of trash.” The lighter in Silas’s hand traced an arc in the air, falling towards our gasoline-soaked bodies.

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1 I invited the underprivileged scholarship student I was sponsoring to our home for the holidays. The moment my husband saw her, his face went pale. He had heard her thoughts: “If I fail to conquer you, the system will erase me.” To save the girl’s life, my husband actually started to play along. He transferred my company shares to her. He signed over my favorite oceanfront villa to her. He even planned to throw her a wedding of the century… on our anniversary. When I asked him why, my eyes red with tears, he just looked at me with a face full of guilt. “Honey, she’s just a poor kid being controlled by a system. We have to be patient with her.” “Besides, money is just an object. What matters is that she’s alive.” I nodded slowly and spoke to my own system. “Did you hear that, System?” “He said money is just an object. So I suppose it won’t be a problem if I revoke the billionaire’s blessing I bestowed upon him, right?” … The system’s cold, mechanical voice echoed in my mind: [Host, once the revocation process begins, it is irreversible. Grant will lose all of his fortune and revert to the penniless nobody he once was.] [Do you wish to proceed?] I looked at Grant, who was gazing so tenderly at the girl, Renee. The last shred of hesitation in my heart vanished. “Yes. Begin.” [Executing revocation protocol… Progress: 1%. Estimated time to completion: 7 days.] Grant didn’t notice a thing. He was too busy carefully presenting a haute couture wedding gown, worth millions, to Renee. When he and I got married, we were so broke we couldn’t even afford a proper wedding. Grant promised me that for our tenth anniversary, he would give me the grandest ceremony imaginable. This gown was the one I had custom-ordered from a Parisian master for that very wedding, just seven days from now. And now, he was about to put it on Renee. “Honey, don’t look at Renee like that,” Grant said, his brow furrowed in my direction. “She’s just a kid, controlled by that damned system. Her life is on the line. We have the means to help her, so why shouldn’t we?” “It’s just a dress. You have a closet full of clothes; you don’t need this one.” Renee huddled in the corner of the sofa, wrapped in a silk pajama set I had bought just last week. She timidly raised her head, her eyes brimming with tears. “Grant… Is Isabelle angry with me?” “If she doesn’t want me to, I won’t wear it… even though the system says if I don’t wear the ‘Gown of True Love’ tonight, it will deduct ten years from my life…” She clutched her chest as she spoke, her face turning deathly pale as if in agony. Grant’s expression changed instantly. He dropped the gown and rushed to her side, pulling her into his arms. “Renee! Don’t be afraid, I’m here!” He whipped his head around to glare at me, his voice thick with blame. “Isabelle! Will you be happy only when you’ve pushed her to her death?” “It’s just a piece of clothing! This is a matter of life and death. Is your vanity really that important?” I sat on the sofa, watching the scene unfold, and found it utterly ridiculous. As a system user myself, I knew perfectly well that Grant wasn’t hearing her “thoughts.” This was just a poorly-acted drama Renee had concocted, a story of being “forced by a system to conquer the male lead.” And he fell for it. Not only did he fall for it, but he now saw himself as her savior. He believed that by fulfilling Renee’s every wish, he could rescue this poor, innocent girl from the clutches of an evil system. What a noble hero. Except he was playing the hero with my money. “Grant, that’s my wedding gown. The size won’t fit her.” He paused, then waved his hand impatiently. “So get it altered. Renee’s so slim, just take in the waist a little.” “Besides,” he added, “you bought this gown with my money. I have the right to decide what happens to it.” I laughed, a humorless sound. “Your money?” Years ago, Grant was a broke kid who couldn’t even afford his next meal. It was I who traveled to this world with my system, who, in order to save him, bound all of my own fortune to him. It was I who stood by him as he built his empire from nothing, sleeping in basements and living on instant noodles, step by step, until he became the richest man in the world. And now, he was calling it his money. “Fine. If you feel so strongly about saving Renee, then give it to her.” Grant breathed a sigh of relief, a look of gratitude in his eyes. “That’s my girl. Isabelle, I knew you were the kindest, most understanding woman in the world.” “Once Renee completes her mission and is free from the system, all of this will be yours again.” In his arms, Renee shot me a triumphant smirk. I glanced at the system in my mind. The revocation process was at 5%. I hope you’re still feeling this generous in a week, Grant. 2 The next morning, I got a call from the office. Grant was calling an emergency board meeting. By the time I arrived, the conference room was already full. Grant was seated at the head of the table, with Renee sitting right beside him. When he saw me enter, he gestured to a chair further down. “Have a seat.” I raised an eyebrow. That was the VP’s seat. As co-CEO, my place had always been next to him. Now, that place belonged to Renee. “I’ve called you all here today to announce something important,” Grant said, his voice leaving no room for argument as he scanned the room. “I have decided to transfer 5% of the company shares currently under Isabelle’s name to Ms. Renee, free of charge.” The room erupted. The board members exchanged bewildered glances, whispering amongst themselves. “Five percent? That’s hundreds of millions!” “Who is this girl? On what grounds?” I sat in my chair, spinning a pen in my fingers, saying nothing. Right on cue, Renee stood up and bowed to the room, her voice trembling. “I’m sorry, everyone. I… I don’t want this either…” “But… but if I don’t accept these shares, the system will register it as a mission failure, and it will punish me…” As she spoke, a violent tremor ran through her body, and she collapsed weakly into Grant’s arms. Grant was beside himself with worry. He patted her back while roaring at the board members. “All of you, shut up! What’s more important, money or a person’s life?” “Renee is doing this to survive! Are all of you so obsessed with money you can’t see that?” His outburst stunned them into silence. One of them looked to me. “Ms. Winslow, this…” Grant’s gaze fell on me too, his eyes demanding my compliance. “Isabelle, say something.” “You know what Renee is going through. Think of these shares as a charitable donation.” “The company is ours anyway. What does it matter who holds the shares? When Renee completes her mission, she’ll give them back.” I looked at him. This was the same man who, in the early days of our startup, would scour the entire city just to save a few dollars on materials. Now, for the sake of a clumsy lie, he was about to throw away hundreds of millions without a second thought. I smiled and tossed my pen onto the table. “Mr. Vaughn is right.” “Since this is a life-or-death matter, we shouldn’t delay.” “But why stop at shares? If this is a conquest mission, the system must value sincerity above all else.” Grant’s eyes lit up. “Isabelle, what do you suggest?” I spoke slowly, deliberately. “Why not remove me as well? Make Ms. Renee the co-CEO. Surely the system would see that as a huge leap in her progress. She might even clear the mission instantly.” The room fell deathly silent. The smile on Grant’s face froze. “Isabelle, don’t be sarcastic. The shares are an emergency measure. The CEO position is not negotiable.” “Since you agree, just sign the papers.” The document slid across the table to me. I picked up the pen and, without a moment’s hesitation, signed my name. [Revocation Progress: 15%.] The system’s voice echoed in my mind. [Host has proactively severed financial ties with the target. Revocation speed has increased.] Grant watched me sign, a wave of relief washing over him. “That’s the way. Isabelle, they’re just material possessions. No need to get so attached.” “When Renee is better, I’ll take you on a trip abroad.” Renee clutched the contract, her voice dripping with false gratitude. “Thank you, Isabelle… you’re so kind. I’ll be sure to repay you one day.” Repay me? I looked at the greed shining in her eyes. You won’t have to wait. Very soon, you’re going to find out just how hot that “gift” is to hold. 3 When I got home, I found my belongings packed in boxes in the living room. Several maids were busy moving furniture out of the master bedroom. Grant stood on the landing, directing the operation. “Get rid of that mattress, Renee doesn’t like it. Replace it with something softer.” “Change the curtains, too. Renee likes pink.” He saw me and waved me over. “Isabelle, you’re just in time.” “The feng shui master said the energy in the master bedroom is the most nurturing in the house.” “Renee’s been getting weaker these past few days. She needs to move in there to recuperate.” “To protect her, I’ll be staying in there with her for the time being.” I looked at the boxes piled haphazardly on the floor. My books, my clothes, our wedding photo. The glass on the frame was cracked, a jagged line running right between our smiling faces. “So where do I sleep?” I asked. Grant pointed to the ground floor. “The room next to the maid’s quarters is empty, isn’t it? Just clean it up a bit.” “It’s only temporary. As soon as Renee is better, you can move back.” That room had been intended for storage. It got no sunlight and was filled with junk. Now, for the sake of an outsider, Grant was telling me, the lady of the house, to move into the storeroom. Renee came running down the stairs, wearing my slippers. “Grant, is Isabelle upset?” “Maybe I should take the other room… although the system said if I don’t sleep in the master bedroom tonight, it will paralyze my legs…” She bit her lip, tears appearing on command. Grant immediately rushed to her side, his voice full of concern. “Don’t be ridiculous! As long as I’m here, no one is going to paralyze you.” He turned to me, his tone severe. “Isabelle, can you please be more considerate? Do you want to see Renee become a cripple?” “It’s just for a few nights! Why are you being so petty?” “We have such a good life now, we should be grateful for our blessings. Isn’t it good to do some charity work and build up some good karma?” Blessings? I almost laughed out loud. There were no blessings. There was only me, giving my life force to you. I looked at Grant’s self-righteous face, and the last flicker of emotion in my heart died. “Fine.” I nodded. “If she’s that fragile, let her have the room.” “But remember this, Grant.” “Some positions, once you give them up, you can never get them back.” He frowned, sensing a hidden meaning in my words, but his attention was quickly diverted by Renee’s whining. “Grant, I want a big jacuzzi tub in the bedroom, the kind with massage jets…” “Done! We’ll buy it all!” I dragged my boxes into the dark, damp storeroom. I closed the door, shutting out the sounds of their laughter. [Revocation Progress: 40%.] [Grant’s fortune is rapidly depleting. Host, starting tonight, his sleep quality will plummet, and he will be plagued by nightmares.] I made my bed on the hard floorboards and lay down. “Good.” “Let him have some nightmares. He needs to get used to his new life.” In the middle of the night, I was woken by a bloodcurdling scream from upstairs. I ignored it, rolled over, and went back to sleep. 4 The next few days were chaos. One minute, Renee was claiming the system was going to drain her blood; the next, it was going to make her go blind. Each time, her “symptoms” could only be alleviated by a sacrifice from me. Transferring my oceanfront villa to her name. Giving her all my jewelry to wear as a protective ward. Grant agreed to every demand. Until our tenth wedding anniversary. The day Grant had promised to throw Renee her “wedding of the century.” To build up the hype, he booked the most luxurious hotel in the city and even chartered a private jet to fly in fresh flowers. The guest list was a who’s who of the city’s elite. He even invited dozens of media outlets to livestream the event. In the dressing room, Renee sat before the mirror, wearing my altered wedding gown. She admired her reflection, her eyes gleaming with greed and triumph. “See, Isabelle? Grant is so good to me.” “He said he’d be willing to lose everything just to save me.” “Don’t you think he’s fallen in love with me?” I leaned against the wall, checking the time on my phone. Thirty minutes until the revocation was complete. “Maybe,” I said flatly. “After all, he was willing to lose his mind for you.” Her face fell. She was about to snap back when Grant walked in, dressed in a dashing white suit, looking radiant. He paused when he saw me, his eyes darting away for a second before he squared his shoulders with renewed self-importance. “Isabelle, when the ceremony starts, I want you to go up on stage as the… the witness, and say a few words.” He wanted me to officiate my own husband’s wedding to his mistress? “No.” Grant’s face darkened. “Isabelle! The entire media is out there. Don’t you dare embarrass me!” “If Renee fails this mission, the system will erase her! Just do it to save a life, can’t you?” “After today, I’ll throw you an even bigger wedding, how about that?” Renee walked over and clung to his arm, her voice a pathetic whimper. “Grant, does Isabelle hate me? If she’s not willing, then I might as well just die…” “The system said if I don’t receive her blessing, I’ll start bleeding from all seven orifices and die a horrible death…” That did it. Grant panicked. He grabbed my wrist, his grip shockingly strong. “Isabelle! Do you have any humanity? Are you going to force her to die?” “I am ordering you to get on that stage! And you will smile while you bless us!” “If you don’t, you can get out of my house and out of my company!” A sharp pain shot up my arm. I looked at the contorted, monstrous face of the man before me. Ten years of love, ten years of sacrifice, all turned to ash in this single moment. [Revocation Progress: 99%.] The countdown in my mind ticked into its final minute. Suddenly, I stopped struggling. I looked at him and smiled, the brightest smile I had given in days. “Alright.” “If you want my blessing so badly, then you shall have it.” I yanked my hand free and smoothed out my clothes. “Let’s go. It’s time.” Grant was taken aback, clearly not expecting me to agree so easily. He probably thought I was scared. He gave a cold snort and, taking Renee’s arm, walked out. The grand hall was a breathtaking spectacle of lights and flowers. Grant led Renee down the aisle to the sound of applause and envious murmurs. I stood in the wings, watching.

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“Guess which one of these beauties is my girlfriend?” My husband’s Instagram post went viral. In the photo, my mother-in-law is wearing a low-cut, tight dress, her arms wrapped around my husband’s neck, laughing joyfully. I, on the other hand, am dressed plainly, standing awkwardly in the background like a prop. 1 The moment the photo was posted, the comments section exploded. 【Teach me how to coexist peacefully with the ‘other woman’~】 【Bro, you’re winning at life~】 【Goals.】 Seeing the misunderstanding, my husband, Caleb, quickly posted a clarification about his mother’s identity. But that only made the internet go wilder. 【?! She’s fifty? I’m twenty and my blood pressure just spiked!】 【Gorgeous queen, drop the skincare routine!】 【Son, stop replying to comments and open the door for your new dad~】 Reading the sycophantic comments, my mother-in-law, Diana, couldn’t stop smiling at her phone. “Mom, dinner’s ready~” I had cooked a full meal, but Diana took her sweet time putting down her phone. “Ouch~ It’s cold~ Haley, get a fluffy cushion for this chair next time.” Diana’s mini-skirt offered zero protection against the cold wood chair. It was early spring, yet she was dressed for a Miami summer. I shot Caleb a subtle look, worried about her catching a cold. Caleb immediately picked up on it. “Mom, it’s chilly right now. Maybe wear something warmer at home? Save the skirts for summer.” Diana pouted, displeased. “Why are you so conservative, baby? It’s a waste to hide a body like mine. And I told you, call me Diana~” “Okay, okay, Diana. Eat up. Later, I’ll have Haley take you shopping for some warmer outfits.” “Thanks, baby~ Mwah~” Diana beamed instantly. I was the only one feeling a creeping sense of unease. 2 After dinner, Diana eagerly grabbed my hand to go shopping. She did her own makeup, styled herself in a trendy “pure lust” outfit, and even insisted on styling me. Before dragging me out the door, she shouted back to Caleb: “Us girls are going shopping! Remember to do the chores. I’m going to inspect your work when I get back~” Caleb agreed happily. At the mall, Diana flitted from store to store, spouting the latest Gen-Z slang. She found a boutique she liked, chatted up the sales associate, and took a mountain of clothes into the fitting room. The style wasn’t my thing, so I waited outside, guarding our bags. I was scrolling through TikTok when a familiar voice called out. “Haley, what are you doing here? This isn’t your vibe at all.” It was my work bestie, Lisa. I pointed to the fitting room and whispered, “Waiting for my mother-in-law~” Lisa covered her mouth to stifle a laugh. “Your trendy MIL? Honestly, sometimes I think she looks younger than you. It’s terrifying for us actual twenty-somethings. But—” Diana’s voice drifted out from behind the curtain, cutting Lisa off. “What are you girls whispering about? Come help me look~” Diana stepped out wearing a daring V-neck slip dress that hugged every curve. You couldn’t see a single sign of aging. Lisa immediately switched to flattery mode. “We were just praising you, gorgeous~ God, I envy Haley. My mother-in-law is driving me insane. I barely escaped to bring my baby out for a stroll~” I finally noticed the stroller behind her. A pink-cheeked baby was sleeping peacefully, but her nose scrunched up, signaling an incoming cry. Before Lisa could move, Diana swooped in, snatching the baby with practiced ease and rocking her gently. 3 The baby giggled in Diana’s arms. Overcome with affection, Diana kissed the baby’s cheek. But her lip gloss left a sticky mark all over the baby’s face. Lisa frowned slightly, unnoticed by Diana. “Mom~ The baby’s immune system is weak. Be careful with bacteria,” I urged gently. Diana planted a deep kiss on the baby’s lips before waving her hand dismissively. “Sorry, she’s just too cute. Looks exactly like my Caleb did when he was little.” To apologize, Diana treated us to lunch and bought the baby a pile of toys. Seeing how much the baby liked her, Lisa relaxed. While Diana played with the baby, Lisa went back to venting about her own mother-in-law. “You don’t know how old-fashioned she is. If my husband didn’t mediate, we’d be at war…” She looked enviously at Diana. “When you married Caleb, I was worried because he’s from a single-parent home. Mothers in those situations can be super possessive. But seeing how open-minded your MIL is, I guess I worried for nothing~ If only mine was half as cool~” I nodded in agreement. Diana was a bit spoiled, but she treated me well. Since the wedding, we were more like sisters. The family atmosphere was great. As for her possessiveness over Caleb? I understood it. He was her only son. Why would they need boundaries? 4 Back home, Diana threw herself into Caleb’s arms, demanding praise for her new dress. Caleb praised her, then insisted on taking photos for his followers, calling it “fan service” to capitalize on the trending topic. I laughed and agreed, finding the best angles to photograph them. Diana was addicted to the internet. She posted daily but never got much traction. Now that she had a taste of viral fame, she wasn’t letting go. She edited the photos, uploaded them, and shoved her phone into my hands. “Haley, you’re the pro at this. Help me get more followers, please~” My job is social media management, so I couldn’t say no. I took the phone, replying to comments to boost engagement. Many users found their way to Diana’s new post. Most were compliments, but some were… off. 【This daughter-in-law has the patience of a saint…】 【Judging by the photo, this guy has definitely been to ‘Sweet Home Alabama’.】 【Oedipus complex check-in~】 But they were quickly buried by requests for skincare routines, so I ignored them. When Diana finished her face mask, I advised her: “To grow the account, you need a niche. Since this topic went viral, let’s focus on your anti-aging secrets.” “Anti-aging… hmm…” Diana nodded thoughtfully. Seeing she was listening, I went to do my own thing. Although Diana always talked about making money as an influencer, Caleb and I earned enough to support her comfortably. We just wanted her to have a hobby. 5 That night after a shower, I was cuddling with Caleb. We were newlyweds, enjoying a quiet moment, when a knock came at the door. “Haley, are you asleep?” Caleb froze. The mood vanished instantly. I frowned, annoyed. Diana was really lacking boundaries tonight. I opened the door. Diana was wearing the slip dress she bought today, looking fidgety. “Um… Haley, I need to talk to Caleb about something tonight. Can you—” I pointed at the clock. “Mom, do you see the time? Can’t it wait until tomorrow?” Diana lowered her head, murmuring incoherently. “Haley, watch your tone with Mom,” Caleb said, coming to the door. Diana looked up, her eyes brimming with tears. The rims were red, and she looked so fragile that even I felt a pang of guilt. So, naturally, I was kicked out. Sleeping alone in the guest room, I listened to the muffled giggles from next door. Annoyed, I scrolled through my phone to calm down. Suddenly, a notification popped up. Someone I followed was trending locally. I clicked. It was Diana’s new post from today. I scrolled through, but the comments were no longer universally positive. The top comments were disturbing. 【The wife in this house would be great at playing a sleeping husband.】 【Gross.】 【Gross.】 【Gross.】 … 6 When I had her phone earlier, the comments were mostly positive. I remembered Diana gave me her login info to help manage the account. Curiosity, mixed with the resentment of being kicked out of my own bed, got the better of me. I logged in on my phone. Before I could find the new post, her drafts folder caught my eye. It was full. Several had been edited just minutes ago. I clicked one, and the blood rushed to my head. Diana wrote: 【By popular demand, here is my anti-aging secret—ta-da! It’s my darling son~】 【Men are a woman’s source of Yang energy. Absorbing enough Yang keeps you young forever. The energy between a mother and son is the most compatible, and the effect is best. Also, virgins are top-tier~】 The attached photo was of my master bed. Diana, shoulder bare, eyes heavy with lust, was lying on top of my husband. The dim lighting couldn’t hide the intimacy. I exploded! I stormed to the master bedroom and pounded on the door. “Caleb! Get out here!” There was shuffling inside, but no one opened the door. Separated by a single piece of wood, I could only imagine the depravity happening inside! 7 It felt like an eternity before Caleb finally opened the door. He was fully dressed, even his pajama hood perfectly arranged. Seeing me frozen in shock, Caleb pulled me into a hug, whispering gently: “Haley, baby, Mom just really wants to be famous. You know she gave up her career for me when she was young. Now that she has some heat, I have to support her. This is your field, you know how operations work better than I do.” Under his soothing words, my anger deflated slightly. Diana had always been clingy. And in the cutthroat world of social media, finding a niche was hard. She had stumbled into a weird, controversial lane, but it was working. These days, the more shameless the content, the more views it got. Once the money started rolling in, no one would care how she got famous. Plus, she claimed she wanted to help us financially. I sighed, leaning into him. “Fine, I trust you. You always know how to talk me down.” Caleb and I had been together since college. We rarely fought. He always had a way of smoothing things over. Friends used to envy me for finding such a perfect guy. After marriage, he was obedient, and Diana always took my side. My life was enviable. I should be more tolerant of their quirks. No one is perfect.

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My golden retriever boyfriend disappeared for three months. When I saw him again, he was the ruthless gang leader who kidnapped me. His face was dark, but his fingers tapped a Morse code message on the table: [Wife, I missed you to death.] Me: ? Does he have Dissociative Identity Disorder? 1 I tried to believe that this man—with a buzz cut, stubble on his jaw, and a dangerous aura—was the same sweet boyfriend who cuddled in my arms three months ago. The features were handsome, similar to his, but the vibe was completely different. I knelt on the floor, tapping my knee in response. [Are you Caleb Vance?] He expertly held a cigarette, took a deep drag, and slowly exhaled smoke rings, squinting through the haze. “Name?” The short question emphasized his hostility. But the hand resting on the table kept tapping out a message, contrasting sharply with his outward appearance. [It’s me, babe. Play along.] I was conflicted. Caleb didn’t smoke. But this man looked like a chainsmoker. I paused, looked at him, and said, “Zoe Zhou.” He got the answer, tossed the half-burnt cigarette aside, and slowly pulled a switchblade from his waistband. His knuckly fingers caressed the blade. He stood up and walked toward me, his gaze sharp. The room was filled with teenage henchmen, none older than 16 or 17. They looked at each other, terrified by his aura. I was terrified too. My heart pounded as he squatted in front of me, lifting my chin with the blade. The cold metal made me shiver. Is this really my puppy boyfriend? I looked at him warily, unable to hide my fear. He emotionlessly placed his other hand on my neck. Then—he tapped lightly on the side of my neck. Morse code: [Waist 22] He could state my waist measurement without touching my body. I believed him. He tapped again: [Undercover] I understood, looking at him with mixed feelings. My boyfriend disappeared for three months to become an undercover drug lord. … Caleb continued the interrogation, his voice lazy and raspy. “Where is your father, Victor Zhou?” I lifted my chin and spoke with difficulty. “I don’t know exactly where he is.” That was the truth. But this answer obviously wouldn’t satisfy a drug lord. So Caleb put away the knife, his expression hardening, setting the stage for the next step. A henchman quickly ran over like a loyal dog, lighting a cigarette. He offered a sneaky suggestion. “Women nowadays care about their looks. Boss, if you burn her face with this cigarette, she’ll definitely tell the truth.” Then he glanced at me warily, whispering in Caleb’s ear, “I know Boss doesn’t hit women. I’m just scaring her.” Before the cigarette even reached Caleb’s hand. I jumped the gun, widening my eyes in feigned terror. I grabbed Caleb’s pinky finger, acting fragile and broken. “No, please don’t. I’m not close with my dad. Let me call him. I’ll cooperate.” Another henchman ran over with a phone and handed it to Caleb. Caleb handed it to me with a cold, ruthless expression. I met his gaze. Everything was going according to our silent plan. I took the phone with trembling hands and dialed my dad’s number. It connected after three rings. My dad, who hadn’t called me in a year, picked up so fast. He must have been in on the plan with Caleb. On speakerphone, I wailed like a proper hostage. “Dad, Dad, save me.” “I’ve been kidnapped by drug dealers. I’m scared.” “Dad, I don’t want to die.” My dad paused strategically, then said with heartache: “Zoe, Dad is sorry…” Then he switched targets immediately. “Who is your leader? I want to speak to him.” Caleb took the phone, his voice deep. “Me.” “Give me a week. I’ll appear before you.” “On the condition that you don’t touch a hair on my daughter’s head.” Caleb smirked, chuckling dismissively. “Deal.” “Don’t be late. Or the eighth day will be your daughter’s death date.” I was speechless. The “bad boy boss” persona must be engraved in Caleb’s DNA. 2 Within two hours of the kidnapping, the drug lord and the hostage reached a happy ending. Caleb squatted in front of me, reluctant to leave, flirting with his eyes while keeping a cold face. Except for me, the henchmen only understood his cold face. They stood there stupidly, holding back yawns. I felt sorry for them and yawned for them. Caleb thought I was sleepy and finally, humanely, let them go to sleep. “Go back to your rooms.” Then, a henchman spoke up fearlessly. “Boss, I’ve never been with a woman. Can I…” Lust overrode his brain. “She’s a hostage anyway. When Victor Zhou is caught, she’s ours to deal with.” Coveting the boss’s woman? I sweated for him. Sure enough, Caleb’s handsome face instantly dropped to sub-zero temperatures. His gaze shot toward the guy like an ice dagger. Another henchman poked the lusty one in the waist, winking frantically. A silent exchange of expressions ensued. Savior Henchman raised his eyebrows three times in disbelief: Bro, are you crazy? He looked at me, then at Caleb: That woman is gorgeous. Boss hasn’t said anything yet, and you dare ask for her? Lusty Henchman gulped: Boss doesn’t like women, right? I thought he was glaring at her. Savior Henchman twitched his mouth: How did you survive this long with zero situational awareness? I watched with relish. Finally— Lusty Henchman turned pale and green, shaking like a leaf. “S-sorry, Boss. I was wrong.” Caleb, who looked terrifying to his underlings, withdrew his icy gaze. While taking a drag, he winked at me through the smoke. The hand holding the cigarette tapped a few times, shaking off ash. Morse code: [Come here] It didn’t look like anything good. I liked it. So I got up from the cold concrete floor, stumbled, and fell into Caleb’s arms. I called him sweetly, imitating the henchmen. “Boss~” Hearing this, Caleb’s perpetually cold brow relaxed slightly. It felt like a “Dominant Mafia Boss Pampers His Little Wife” trope. I looked up at him with a smile. He wrapped his arm around my waist, lowered his head possessively, and kissed me. Mixed with the faint smell of tobacco, his movements were gentle. I hummed involuntarily. He immediately looked up and swept a cold glance at the henchmen. The perceptive ones tripped over themselves to escape. The clueless ones were dragged out by the perceptive ones. After they left, Caleb withdrew his gaze with satisfaction, whispering intimately in my ear. “Wife, put on a show with me.” Me: ? He glanced at the door. Shadows flickered under the door gap. Walls have ears. I understood. Our eyes met. Caleb pressed his lips into a sexy curve, his Adam’s apple rolling slightly. “How about we do it for real?” I slapped the back of his head without mercy. “If you want to die, Caleb Vance.” He pouted pitifully, holding me tight without moving. After this and that, he turned and picked up a red brick from the corner. He rubbed some brick dust onto my arm, calling it “attention to detail.” After processing, he princess-carried me to open the door. I lay in his arms, pretending to be half-dead and weak. Five greenhorn henchmen squatting by the wall saw my “bruised and battered” state, their jaws dropping in shock. They scattered at Caleb’s command of “Get lost.” The next second, he looked down at me, his eyes softening. I giggled. “Caleb, I really envy your wife.” “She gets to experience the joy of two husbands at such a young age.” 3 “So do you like me as Boss Leo or Caleb?” Caleb put me on the bed, squatting in front of me. In his room, we didn’t need to pretend for now. “Wife, which one do you like?” He returned to his true self, eyes sparkling with clear wisdom (and stupidity), pressing me for an answer. The corners of his mouth turned up, revealing bright tiger teeth. The puppy expression clashed violently with his current tough-guy image in a tank top and cargo pants. But the badder the man, the more I loved it. I answered without thinking. “I like Boss Leo.” As soon as I said it, I met Caleb’s expectant gaze. Feeling it was inappropriate and afraid he’d be hurt, I quickly added. “Not that I don’t like Caleb. As long as it’s you, I like…” Before I could finish, Caleb grabbed my wrists and pinned them above my head. I fell back helplessly, following his force. His other hand lightly encircled my waist. His voice was low and seductive. “If I knew you liked bad boys…” “I wouldn’t have pretended.” …? Caleb is a bastard. The little puppy act was all a lie. I was angry, but touching his chest muscles, hard and developed after three months, and resting my head on his arm, I slept soundly. Instantly not angry anymore. Half-asleep, I heard him whispering in my ear. “Sorry, wifey.” “In the future… I won’t hide anything from you.” I mumbled a response. 4 “Dad, sob, save me.” “Daughter, don’t be afraid!” After a brief exchange, I obediently handed the phone to Caleb. “Boss Leo! If anything happens to my daughter, don’t think about catching me!” “Heh.” “I’ll only give you a week. Show me what you’ve got.” Phone hung up. Routine performance over. I collapsed into Caleb’s arms, stuffing green grapes into his mouth. Feeding him until his furrowed brows relaxed. The watching henchmen looked three parts incredulous, seven parts “prostrate in admiration.” The two familiar henchmen started their silent communication again. Lusty Henchman opened his mouth wide, giving Savior Henchman a stunned look: Is this woman a witch? Look at Boss, he’s bewitched silly. Savior Henchman pursed his lips, glancing at him: Not really, Boss knows what he’s doing. Lusty Henchman exaggerated his expression: Wait until she rips Boss’s heart out, then it’ll be too late. Savior Henchman: … Me: Reputation seriously damaged. Caleb suddenly spoke, interrupting their communication, his gaze slightly cold. “Rick, Mike, stop looking sneaky in front of me. It’s annoying.” “Get out.” Rick (Lusty) and Mike turned pale and quickly slipped out. I looked back at him with a smile. Did he notice them gossiping about me and stood up for me? Caleb tightened his arm around my waist, pulling me closer, whispering hoarsely in my ear. “Don’t look around in my arms.” “Look at me.” Before leaning in to kiss me, he looked up and coldly swept a glance at the other henchmen. They tactfully left, closing the door behind them. I reached up to smooth out the frown Caleb kept to maintain his persona, unable to suppress a laugh. “Boss~ Jealous?” “Very jealous.” His gaze was burning. Just as he curved his lips to kiss me, the door banged open. “Boss, new goods arrived!” Rick (Lusty Henchman) delivered the news at the worst time. Caleb took a deep breath, looking at the door with a hint of anger. “Get lost.” The door closed quickly. Caleb and I looked at each other. After adjusting his mood to continue. We heard Rick gossiping loudly outside. “Holy crap, Boss smiled. First time!” “He smiled so wide at that woman.” “How to put it… Boss is handsome, but his smile is weird… kinda gross.” The air froze for a second. Caleb put me down gently, cracking his knuckles as he walked to the door, his gaze grim. Well, hope Rick survives.

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My mother was the true heiress of the Hamilton family, but my grandparents and my father only ever had eyes for my aunt, the fake heiress. Today, Mother coughed up more than just phlegm. It was clots of deep, rusty red. I secretly called Dad, but he just scoffed: “Your grandparents and I are celebrating Victoria’s birthday. We don’t have time for your mother’s theatrics.” “Tell her to stop pretending to be sick—if she’s going to die, she should just get on with it.” The call ended with a cold click. I looked back, stunned, and found Mother standing right behind me. She was swaying, her face bone-white. That night, my mother never woke up again. Later, I stood in the stark, black-and-white silence of the funeral home, and Dad finally sauntered in. His eyes narrowed in shock. “What game is Caroline playing now?” I clung to the edge of the casket, my voice thick with sobs. “Daddy, Mommy turned into a star.” 1 That evening, Mother tucked me in as usual. But in the middle of the night, I woke up to a strange, heavy smell. I rushed to the kitchen. Oh, Mommy was so clumsy. She’d left the pill bottle scattered all over the floor. I got up on my little stool and started picking up the pills, just like I saw her do sometimes. Phew, good thing Maya was here to help. I tiptoed back to the bedroom, wanting a hug and a word of praise, but I tripped over something else scattered by the bed. I knew these pills. Mother took them when the coughing fits kept her up all night. I carefully picked up the tiny white capsules, one by one, and put them back in the bottle. Mommy finally got some sleep, so I shouldn’t wake her. Maya doesn’t have kindergarten tomorrow, so I have plenty of time to wait for her to wake up. I snuggled back beside her and played with my fingers. Her phone suddenly lit up. It was Dad! I snatched it up. His voice sounded slurred, a little drunk. “Caroline, I’m not coming home tonight, so don’t wait up for me.” Then Aunt Victoria’s voice cut in, sharp and sweet. “Oh, Gray, why explain? My sister is pathetic but dutiful. When we were at the Hamiltons’, she’d nod like a trained puppy to anything our parents said, let alone your request.” I didn’t like her one bit. She stole my grandparents, and now she always tried to steal Dad. I’d overheard the grown-ups before. Aunt Victoria was the fake Hamilton heiress—her parents were the ones who swapped Mother into a life of poverty. Mother wasn’t brought back until she was twelve. Everyone said Mother was obedient, but I knew she was just desperate for a family. That’s why she was so good to Dad; it wasn’t about the corporate marriage, it was about finally having a family of her own. I spoke into the phone screen. “Shhh, Daddy. Mommy’s sleeping. You have to whisper.” Dad must have had bad reception because he only got louder. “Your mother dares to ignore my call? Maya, put the phone to her ear!” I obediently held the phone against Mother’s cheek. A faint, mocking laugh came through the speaker. “Caroline Hamilton. I know you’re listening.” “You’ve gotten smarter, I’ll give you that. Trying to use the child as leverage to drag me home? A new low, even for you.” Victoria’s cooing voice followed: “Stop it, Sis. Using the kid to guilt-trip him isn’t a good look. Gray’s staying at my place tonight; just wanted to give you a heads-up.” Mother just lay still, silently sleeping. She didn’t answer them. Dad sounded frustrated by her lack of reaction and shouted even louder. I hung up the phone. Dad was too loud. Mother was tired and needed her rest. Feeling sleepy myself, I burrowed back into her arms. Mother felt cold, like ice. It was a good thing I was warm; I could hug her tight. The next morning, the front door burst open with a crash. I quickly tucked the blankets around Mother, then ran out to see. It was Dad. I habitually held my arms out. “Daddy, hug!” He looked down at me dismissively. “No shoes? Don’t you know you’ll catch a cold? Where’s your mother?” I pointed at the bedroom door. “Mommy’s sleeping!” Dad frowned and strode toward the room. 2 He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. “Caroline, it’s noon. Are you going to get up or not?” Mother was still lying on her side, only the dark, glossy back of her head visible. Dad gave a short, light laugh, trying to keep his temper. He spoke in her direction: “Caroline, are you jealous again?” I looked up. Dad had the faintest smirk on his face. He always seemed to enjoy seeing Mother miserable over him. “I told you, this was just a family merger. Don’t take it too personally.” “I’ll do what I want, and I’ll sleep with whomever I choose. You have absolutely no right to question me.” One second. Two seconds. The room remained silent. Mother didn’t cry tearfully, didn’t beg him to come back, as she usually did. Dad’s frown deepened. He took a few steps closer. “There’s a limit to your dramatics. I’m talking to you, didn’t you—” His phone rang, cutting him off. It was Aunt Victoria’s tearful voice: “Gray! I drank too much last night, and my head is killing me. Can you come stay with me? I’m scared to be alone…” Dad’s face instantly softened. He spoke to her in a soothing, gentle tone—the kind of tenderness he had never once shown Mother. The last time Dr. Wells came to see Mother, he said she was sick and gave her a whole drawer full of medicine. Mother hadn’t hidden the diagnosis from Dad, but what did he say then? It was something like: “Caroline, you think putting vitamins in a prescription bottle will fool me? Do you think I’m blind?” “And what about that doctor? Why is he so concerned about you? Answer me!” Mother’s face had been as pale then as it was now. After that, Dad often didn’t come home to sleep, and he always smelled of different perfumes. It was right after that when Mother’s health rapidly declined. Dad finished his call and rushed back out to the living room without even glancing at Mother again. I ran to him, grabbing his leg. “Daddy, don’t go! Can you stay with Mommy, please…” Mother loved Dad more than anything. Maybe if he stayed, she would wake up. A flicker of conflict crossed his eyes, but he quickly yanked his foot away without mercy. Before walking out the door, he pointed to a box on the counter. “Those are the Raspberry & White Chocolate Truffles she loves. I’ve extended an olive branch; she can deal with this herself.” With that, he hurried away. I stared blankly at the box, my stomach rumbling. I opened the truffles Dad left and ate two of them quickly. Mother once told me that if you eat fast enough, the tears won’t fall. “Mommy, can you wake up, please? Maya is getting scared now…” I held a truffle up to her mouth. The powdered sugar dusted her lips, making them look even paler. But she didn’t wake up, not even by evening. The truffles were gone, and I was still hungry. Suddenly, the doorbell rang. I thought it was Dad, so I rushed to open it. “Delivery. Your anniversary cake is here!” It wasn’t Dad. By the time I dragged a stool over and opened the door, the delivery man was gone, leaving only a small, elegant raspberry cake. I remembered! Mother had ordered it a few days ago. It was to celebrate her and Dad’s three-year wedding anniversary! Last week, Dad slept at home, and I lay between them, listening to them talk calmly for a rare moment. Mother had been so happy when she woke up that day. She ordered the cake and smiled, whispering to me, “Maya, he’s starting to treat me well. I might actually have a family… I have to try hard to live.” Mother had even started taking her medicine, and she coughed up less of the red stuff. But now, she was sleeping and wouldn’t talk to me. I lowered my head and rubbed my eyes. It was my fault. I shouldn’t have called Dad. I shouldn’t have let Mother hear that terrible conversation. It was all my fault. 3 Mommy must be angry with me, that’s why she’s sleeping so long. I opened the cake. “Mommy, open up. Maya will feed you.” Cream dribbled onto her face. I hastily reached out to wipe it off. But it was so strange. When I used to kiss Mother’s cheek, it was soft. Now, it was stiff. A sudden, unfamiliar panic flared in my chest. Trembling, I picked up the phone and called my grandparents. “Grandma and Grandpa, can you come see Mommy?” When Mother was hurting, she needed her own mommy and daddy to comfort her, right? Grandpa let out a heavy sigh, his voice stern. “Caroline Hamilton, what fit are you throwing now?” Grandma grabbed the phone. “Hello, sweet Maya. Tell your mother to stop this nonsense and pick up the phone.” I burst into tears. “Mommy has been sleeping for so long! Can you, can you come see her, please?” Silence hung on the line for a long moment. Finally, Grandpa’s voice returned. “Caroline Hamilton, I know you’re listening!” “I just spoke to Grayson. He says you’ve now resorted to using the child to gain attention!” “When will this stop? You always tried to steal Victoria’s things growing up, and now you have Gray. What more do we, the Hamiltons, owe you?” I cried uncontrollably. Mother never stole anything! She was the real heir; Aunt Victoria stole her parents… I wanted to call back, but the phone screen wouldn’t turn on. I ate the whole cake. The sun rose again, and finally, there was a knock on the door. It was Aunt Victoria, with Grandma and Grandpa. “Caroline Hamilton, open the door! No calls, no texts. Don’t think getting into the Sterling family makes you immune to us!” Grandpa was rapping urgently on the wood. In my memory, he was just like Dad—always impatient with Mother, but so kind to Aunt Victoria. Yet, Mother was his own flesh and blood. I opened the door. Aunt Victoria squeezed in first. “Ugh. Gray’s been gone for two days and the house is already a mess?” I kicked her leg. “Go away, bad woman! Mommy doesn’t want to see you!” Grandpa grabbed me, lifted me up, and tossed me aside. Aunt Victoria covered her nose and cautiously approached the bedroom. The moment she saw Mother, a short gasp sliced through the room. She bent down and, with a trembling finger, checked Mother’s breathing. Then, she pulled her mouth into an unbelievable, silent smirk. “Idiot.” I threw myself in front of Mother, shielding her. Grandpa heard the noise. He saw Mother on the bed and frowned deeply. “Caroline, your parents are here, and you’re still in bed? And the house stinks. You haven’t even taken out the trash. It’s unacceptable!” He started walking in. Aunt Victoria blocked him. Her smile didn’t reach her eyes. “Dad, Sister isn’t feeling well. Let’s not disturb her rest.” Grandpa huffed but didn’t press forward. “Caroline Hamilton, you’re looking for trouble. If only you were half as sensible as Victoria!” Grandma tried to step closer to see Mother, but Aunt Victoria quickly stopped her. “Mom, don’t go in. The room might have a virus. Let Sister sleep.” Grandma looked at the back of Mother’s head and sighed. “Oh, this child. Her temper gets worse every year. Why is she deliberately trying to upset us?” Aunt Victoria chuckled nervously. She even called Dad. “Hello, Gray? Yes, I brought Mom and Dad. We checked—she’s fine. Just napping.” “The kid? She’s fine too. Don’t worry. I’ll swing by now and then to check on them.” She shot a spiteful look at me and walked out with my grandparents. I chased after them, crying out: “Grandma, Grandpa, don’t leave! Mommy hasn’t woken up yet!” As the elevator doors began to close, I grabbed the corner of Grandma’s coat. “Grandma, you’re Mother’s real mother, her family! Can’t you just look at her one time, please?” At that, her fingers twitched, and she paused. 4 But in the end, her hesitation lasted only a moment, and then she was gone. I wiped my eyes with my sleeve. I didn’t understand why everyone always listened to Aunt Victoria. My grandparents would transfer Mother’s rightful shares to her because of one word from Victoria. Dad would leave Mother and me alone at a restaurant countless times because of one word from Victoria. What I hated most was that she always came just to argue with Mother. Mother would accuse her of being an interloper. Aunt Victoria would sneer that Mother was simply unlucky—that her birth parents didn’t love her, and her husband was just her leftovers. After every fight, Mother was sad for a long time. I remember wiping away her tears once and asking, in my innocent way, “Mommy, why don’t you go find your mommy?” In a child’s world, when you’re bullied, you go to your mother. Mother froze. The mist in her eyes grew thicker. I sat in her lap, dangling my feet. “Grandma and Grandpa are your mommy and daddy. Why do they like that bad aunt better?” Mother was silent for a very long time. Finally, she said, “Because, Maya, they are already her family.” But it was okay. I was Mother’s family! I sniffled and crawled back into bed beside Mother to sing her a lullaby. The night before last, she had sung to me. And through my sleepy haze, I heard her whisper, choked with tears: “Maya, no one loves Mommy. I truly… I don’t think I can keep going.” “I’m in so much pain, darling. That medicine isn’t vitamins—it’s real medicine. But your father won’t believe me.” “I’m scared to leave you alone in this world, Maya. Please don’t hate me…” I had been too sleepy then. But I wanted to tell her: How could Maya ever hate you? Maya will love you forever! That night, I finished the last of the cake and curled up in Mother’s embrace. She smelled heavy, a sweet, sickly scent, like flowers left too long in water. It must be my fault for not bathing. Mother should always smell fresh. The next morning, I woke up hungry again. Mother hadn’t eaten anything, so she must be even hungrier. Just as I was thinking about how to get food, the doorbell rang. I ran to open it. “Is that you, Daddy!” It was the maintenance man. Our neighbor, a tired woman, stood behind him, clutching her nose. “It’s this apartment! Since the middle of the night, there’s been this putrid, heavy smell. I nearly threw up!” The maintenance man saw me and knelt down. “Little one, where is your mother?” I told him Mother had been sleeping for a few days. A look of shock crossed his face. He quickly walked into the bedroom and nearly gagged. “Oh my god. Little one, where is your father?” I shook my head. “Daddy isn’t home.” The maintenance man picked up Mother’s phone, plugged it in, and called Dad. It rang a few times, unanswered. He slid his trembling finger to the emergency contacts and called my grandparents. Still no answer. The man cursed under his breath. “What kind of animals are they! Little one, does your mother have any other friends?” I thought for a moment and told him about Dr. Wells, the kind doctor who was very close to Mother. The call connected in seconds. Dr. Wells arrived quickly. He was almost shaking as he covered Mother with a white sheet. I held Mother’s hand underneath. His tears fell on my face, hotter than any tears Mother ever shed. After that, Mother was taken away in a car. I don’t know if I cried myself unconscious or fainted from hunger. When I next opened my eyes, I was in a hospital. My first reaction was to scream: “Where is Mommy? I want Mommy!” Dr. Wells’ eyes were painfully red. He took me to the black-and-white funeral home. Soon, Dad arrived. My grandparents and that awful Aunt Victoria came, too. Seeing the scene, Dad’s steps faltered, but he forced a defiant posture. “Ha. How fascinating. Caroline Hamilton, setting up this grim, theatrical spectacle just to get me to come home—it’s truly magnificent…” Seeing me, he demanded, “What game is your mother playing now!” I choked out my words. “Daddy, Mommy turned into a star.” He wouldn’t believe it. But then he was led inside and saw Mother. In that instant, all the color drained from his face.

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To save me, my twenty-five-year-old boyfriend was thrown from a skyscraper by his captors. When he opened his eyes again, he was a stranger, cold and distant. He claimed he was from ten years in the future, sent back to fix everything. He said that the thirty-five-year-old version of himself, Liam, would cheat on me with his childhood friend in the third year of our marriage. He said that they had grown to despise each other, bound together for a decade only because of their child. He said that he and the other woman, Sophie, also had a child together. And his first demand, now that he was back in his twenty-five-year-old body, was that I abort our unborn twins and divorce him. 1 The next morning, Liam discharged himself from the hospital and brought Sophie straight to our home. I was summoned by my in-laws, and when I rushed back, I found him holding Sophie’s hand, declaring to his parents, “Sophie and I grew up together. She’s the one who truly understands me, the one I can spend my life with. I have to marry her!” He glanced at me, his voice devoid of emotion. “As for Thea, I’ve wronged her. I’ll compensate her after the divorce.” His parents were livid, their faces pale with rage, muttering about what a disgrace this was to the family. My husband, always so devoted to his parents, was now defying them for another woman. I looked at him, a bitter taste filling my mouth. “Liam, were you serious last night?” He had been in a coma for nearly a month. When he woke up, it was like he was a different person, insisting he was the Liam from ten years in the future. I thought it was amnesia, that he was talking nonsense. I didn’t believe him. But now, seeing his resolve, my hope faltered. Liam’s gaze was just as it had been the night before—no love, no warmth, only a chilling emptiness. “Thea, how many times do I have to say it? I don’t have amnesia. I remember everything. But I really, truly don’t love you anymore.” The revulsion in his eyes was a physical blow. “But we just got married three months ago. You said you only loved me…” Before Liam could reply, Sophie dropped to her knees before my in-laws and me. “Thea, I know your family is better off than mine, that you’re a better match for Liam. I never meant to compete with you. But he loves me now. Please, I’m begging you, let us be together!” I suddenly remembered what Liam had told me. He said he would meet Sophie three years from now during a vice squad raid. He’d learn that after college, her family’s poverty made her an easy target for a group of wealthy men who assaulted her, and she’d ended up working in seedy clubs. His sympathy for her would blossom into love. But by then, I would have already given birth to his child. Because of that, both our families would refuse to let us divorce. We would be trapped in a miserable marriage for a decade. In the end, Sophie, in despair, would take their child and jump from the eighteenth floor. He was back now to prevent all of that from ever happening. I could pity Sophie’s story, but I couldn’t bring myself to like her. Liam helped her up, his eyes filled with tenderness, and then turned to his parents. “Mom, Dad, if you still don’t agree, I’ll quit my job and kill myself right now.” He was using his own life as a weapon. His parents had no choice but to concede. Liam immediately took Sophie and left, heading to her parents’ house to propose. After they were gone, my in-laws unleashed their fury on me. They demanded to know why Liam had changed, why their son’s heart had turned cold only three months after his wedding. I had no answer. How could I tell them? How could I explain that the Liam who had walked with me from college classrooms to the wedding altar was gone, and that his body was now inhabited by his thirty-five-year-old soul? And the thirty-five-year-old Liam didn’t love me. I stumbled out of the house. The early winter wind bit at my face, but none of it felt real. How could Liam not love me? We met at eighteen, in our freshman year of college. After a painting competition, he approached me, his face flushed, and asked for my number. I remember looking at his handsome profile and feeling my own ears burn. He’d quoted a line from a movie then, “Some people are like a rainbow. You don’t know they exist until they appear.” We started dating at twenty. We traveled to countless cities, and in every single one, he proposed to me. He said he’d keep proposing until we were a hundred, until I finally said yes. At twenty-four, we were on a snow-capped mountain when I collapsed from hypothermia. He covered me with his own clothes. When the rescue team found us, he was barely breathing, but his arms were still wrapped tightly around me. I finally agreed to marry him. He was so happy he spun me around a dozen times. The very next day, he was on a plane to meet my parents. At our wedding, he promised to love only me for the rest of his life. Even in the moments before our fall, as the kidnappers pushed us, he shielded me with his body and whispered, “Thea, if there’s a next life, let’s be together then, too.” I had walked away without a scratch. He had suffered multiple fractures. I had sworn that when he woke up, I would spend the rest of my life repaying his profound love. I never imagined that one day, Liam would tell me he didn’t love me. I wiped away a tear and started walking toward Sophie’s house. I didn’t believe it. I didn’t believe the man who loved me that much could ever cheat. I was going to get the thirty-five-year-old Liam out of his body and bring my husband back. 2 I heard them before I even reached the front porch—sounds of intimacy, moans and whispers that made my blood run cold. “…Liam, be gentle.” The door was ajar. I shoved it open. Liam was holding Sophie, one hand caressing her breast, the other tangled in her hair as he kissed her deeply. My vision narrowed. “Liam, what are you doing?” I couldn’t believe it. The self-controlled, dignified man I knew would never lose himself to his desires like this. Was this really the man I had known and loved for seven years? At the sound of my voice, Liam’s passion vanished. He turned to me, his expression icy. “What I do is none of your business. Get out.” I fought down the pain in my chest, forcing myself to meet those familiar but chillingly cold eyes. “This body belongs to my husband, and we are not divorced!” He scoffed. “And isn’t your husband me?” I shook my head stubbornly. “You’re not him. Give him back to me.” He finally released a blushing Sophie, whispering a few soothing words in her ear before grabbing my arm and dragging me outside. His grip was rough. I never thought the man who had treated me with such tenderness, who wanted to give me the world, would ever handle me this way. Even the thirty-five-year-old version of him wouldn’t be this cruel. Once we were outside, I spoke before he could. “Tell me, what do I have to do to get you out of his body? If you’re worried about Sophie, I can give her a large sum of money, send her abroad. I can guarantee she’ll never end up in the situation you described…” He was unmoved. “I came back to marry her. I want to grow old with Sophie.” Grow old together. He had used those exact words in our wedding vows just three months ago. The person he had sworn them to was me. The pain was so sharp I could barely breathe. I remembered the blessed charm for our union he had sought for us before the wedding. “You’re not Liam…” I insisted, my voice trembling. “Liam swore an oath at Azure Peak Monastery! He swore to be with me in this life and the next, to love only me! Please, I’m begging you, just let my husband come back. I’ll do anything you ask…” For a moment, his expression seemed to soften. But in the next, his voice was even more brutal. “Thea, I hate it most when you get all weepy like this. You don’t actually believe that if the twenty-five-year-old Liam came back, he would love you forever, do you?” “Everything I told you is true. Three years from now, I will fall in love with Sophie. I am the future Liam. All that’s happened is you’ve gotten a preview of how this marriage ends. Cutting our losses now is the best thing for both of us.” His words left me speechless. I knew, logically, that if he really was the Liam from ten years in the future, my resistance was meaningless. But I couldn’t accept it. It was easier to believe that my husband’s body had been possessed. I took a deep breath. “If you can get the twenty-five-year-old Liam to tell me himself that he doesn’t love me, I will leave without a fight. Otherwise, there’s nothing to discuss.” Liam stared at me for a long moment, then let out a derisive laugh. “You’re dreaming.” He pulled out a set of divorce papers and shoved them into my hands. “Sign these if you know what’s good for you. If not, I don’t mind dragging you through a messy court battle.” 3 Liam didn’t come home that night. I tossed and turned for hours before finally drifting into a restless sleep. In my dreams, I remembered what the master at the monastery had said. When Liam had gone to ask Master Kaelen for a blessed charm for our union, the old master had shaken his head. “The thread of fate between you two is short and fraught with hardship. It is better not to ask for it.” I didn’t care much for such things, but Liam was insistent. Finally, the master said that if he was truly sincere, he would consider it, but only if Liam completed a pilgrimage of three thousand steps to the monastery’s peak, kneeling in prayer with every three. I couldn’t bear the thought of him doing that, so I persuaded him to leave. Love was in our everyday lives; I could see it. I didn’t need a ritual to prove it. But the next night, a disheveled but beaming Liam appeared, holding the charm. “Honey! I did it!” I could only laugh and call him a fool. I woke with a start and sat in bed for a long time before dressing and heading for Azure Peak Monastery. I had to ask the master if he had foreseen something, if there was any way to fix this. The old master simply asked, “What is so wrong with severing a calamitous bond sooner rather than later?” I was about to argue when he gestured for me to look across the courtyard. One glance, and my blood boiled. Amidst the crowd of worshipers, Liam stood with his arm around Sophie, bowing before the statues. I forced down the tightness in my chest, reminding myself I was here for guidance. Master Kaelen looked at my pale face, sighed, and handed me a slip of paper with a prayer written on it. “Go home. Place this by your bed and sleep. Tomorrow, you will have your answer.” I did as he said. I placed the paper on my nightstand and fell into a long, deep dream. I dreamed I was seven months pregnant, on my way home from a check-up. Liam got a call from work and had to leave me to get home on my own. On the way, I was in a car accident. I went into premature labor. One of the twins didn’t survive. In the hospital, Liam held our dead child, his eyes red as he demanded to know why I hadn’t been more careful. I was drowning in my own grief. The loss became a wound between us that never healed. Later, our surviving daughter was diagnosed with autism at age three. Liam’s work became more demanding, and he came home less and less. I became a version of myself I didn’t recognize. I would secretly check his phone, show up at his precinct unannounced during his late nights, and whisper to our daughter, “Daddy doesn’t want us anymore.” Nearly every time he came home, we fought. “If you hadn’t had her, we wouldn’t be so miserable!” he’d roar before slamming the door. A month after one such fight, I found a movie ticket stub in the pocket of his uniform. It was for a love seat. My eyes burned. He had told me he was pulling an all-nighter interrogating a suspect. Things like that started happening more often. The scent of another woman’s perfume, a smudge of lipstick on his collar, the unlisted number that appeared frequently in his call log. I watched, scene by scene, as our marriage rotted from the inside out. Sophie had a son, bright and healthy. On our daughter’s fifth birthday, Liam promised to take her to the amusement park. But he never showed up. He had to take Sophie’s son to the hospital instead. My daughter cried, asking, “Mommy, does Daddy not like us at all?” We despised each other, but we stayed together for our child. The dream ended with a final, horrific image: Sophie standing on the edge of a rooftop with her son. She smiled at a frantic Liam below. “Liam, in our next life, I want to meet you sooner.” Then she jumped. The dream-Liam turned to me, his eyes like daggers. “Are you satisfied now, Thea?” I woke up with a gasp, drenched in a cold sweat. I touched my still-flat stomach, my mind in turmoil. Before, I couldn’t imagine how our love could ever sour so completely. But after seeing it unfold, watching our marriage decay step by agonizing step… I closed my eyes and, just as he wished, signed the divorce papers. After calling my parents to explain, I went to the hospital and scheduled the abortion.

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The day of the fire, they carried Lila, who only had a few superficial scrapes, down the stairs. They left me for dead, pinned beneath a burning rafter in the collapsing ruin. It was a miracle the firemen dug me out. I woke up three days later in the ICU. The day I was discharged, I had nowhere to go but back home. The moment I stepped through the front door, I saw my parents, Robert and Penelope Winters, and my sister, Delilah, gathered around a lavish, buttercream cake—a “Survival Celebration.” My mother, Penny, saw me, immediately shifted her body to shield the cake, and said, “Your sister is still shaken up. Don’t you dare cause a scene or ask for a piece.” Normally, I would have combusted. I would have screamed, thrown something, demanded to know why they hadn’t even checked the hospital’s discharge time. But this time, I just pulled the ghost of a smile across my face. I walked over and spoke in a tone of meek obedience they had never heard from me. “Mom, you worry too much,” I said. “I would never fight Lila for a piece. I’m just happy she’s safe.” I even picked up the silver cake knife myself, cut the largest slice, and offered it to Delilah with both hands. “Here, Sis. Eat this. You need to calm your nerves.” They all froze. My father, Rob, slowly lifted his head, his face a mask of suspicion. “You… you’re really not going to make a scene?” I nodded gently. “No. I won’t make a scene. From now on, I’ll do whatever you ask.” 1 Mom took the knife, her hand trembling. She stared at me for a long time, her eyes wide with a strange kind of panic. “Did the fire… did it fry your brain?” I shook my head, my smile a rigid, unsettling arc. “No. The doctors said my recovery was excellent.” My sister, Delilah, took a bite of the cake, then peered at me over the frosting. “Cassidy, you’re… you’re really not angry?” “Not at all.” My smile grew even softer, and I let my gaze linger on the faint scrape across her cheek. “I was so scared when I saw the blood on your face. I’m just relieved you’re okay.” The “blood” had been a tiny scrape she got from tripping on the lawn. I, on the other hand, had nearly been reduced to ash. At my words, Lila’s eyes immediately welled up. She dropped the fork and launched herself across the counter, throwing her arms around me. “Oh, Cassie, I’m so sorry! It was all my fault, I was just so scared…” Her warm, sweet-smelling body pressed against me, and I felt a chill of absolute revulsion. I lifted a hand and gave her a light, measured pat on the back. “It’s okay, Sis. Really.” My father stood nearby, his brows furrowed. He opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again. He finally settled on a strained, “Just… good to have you home. Go up and rest.” I nodded, turning toward the stairs. I had only taken two steps when he called out. “Cassidy, wait.” I turned back. He shuffled his feet, his gaze darting away, unable to meet my eyes. “Your sister is having nightmares since the trauma. Your south-facing room… it gets the most sun. Could you let her use it? We fixed up the utility closet for you. It’s small, but… you won’t die in there.” You won’t die in there. What a perfect phrase. Before, I would have thrown a fit. I would have cried and demanded to know why. Now, I simply nodded again, my voice flat, without a single ripple of emotion. “Of course. I’ll go pack up my things right now.” My father froze. My mother froze. Even Delilah’s tear-filled eyes widened in disbelief. I ignored their reactions and walked upstairs. My old room was exactly as I had left it in high school: concert posters on the walls, and a desk covered in academic awards—every single one brighter, more numerous, than Lila’s. In this house, they were worthless. I folded my clothes, piece by piece, and packed them into a single suitcase. Lila followed me, standing silently in the doorway. I turned to her. “Come in, Sis. Sit down. This is your room now.” She bit her lip. “Cassidy… do you… do you hate me?” “No.” I tucked the last shirt into the case. “You’re fragile. You deserve the best room.” Lila’s tears fell. “But…” “No buts.” I dragged the suitcase out, past her. As I brushed by, I could smell the cloying, sweet vanilla buttercream of the cake on her sweater, a scent that already felt alien to me. “I’m heading to the utility closet. Get some rest.” As I hauled the suitcase downstairs, I heard my parents’ low, worried whispers from the living room. “She’s really changed,” Mom’s voice was laced with a strange, sick awe. “Good,” Dad’s was tinged with relief. “That fire in her, that constant arguing—it was exhausting.” “But… I don’t know. There’s something wrong. I feel… cold when she looks at me.” I didn’t stop. I dragged the suitcase straight into the utility closet. It was smaller and grimmer than I’d imagined. Mold stained the corner walls, the window was the size of a paperback book, and the ancient cot creaked with every shift of weight. The air was a stale mix of dust and rot. I sat on the cot and stared at the spiderwebs stretching across the low ceiling. My phone rang. It was my grandmother, Patsy. “Cassidy, I heard you were discharged? Why aren’t you here with me?” My throat tightened, but the tears wouldn’t come—they seemed to have been incinerated on the day of the fire. “Grandma, I’m fine at home.” “Fine my ass! I heard everything!” Patsy’s voice instantly rose, furious. “You wait right there, I’m coming over now! I’m going to tear them limb from limb!” The line went dead. I lay back and quietly listened to the fine, tight aches radiating from my injuries. The doctor said I needed at least three months of physical recovery. But I knew I couldn’t wait three months. Bang! Bang! Bang! The front door suddenly rattled under a furious, drumming assault, followed by Grandma Patsy’s strong, angry voice echoing through the entire house. “Robert Winters! Open this door! What did you do to my granddaughter?!” 2 Grandma Patsy arrived with the speed of a cyclone. She marched in, carrying a thermal food container, and launched immediately into an attack. “What in God’s name kind of parents are you? Your daughter just got out of the hospital and you put her in a storage closet?! Are your hearts made of granite!” Mom gave a nervous, forced smile. “Mom, please don’t be angry. Cassidy volunteered for it.” “Volunteered my foot!” Grandma shoved past her and charged straight into the utility closet. When she saw me on the cot, her eyes immediately filled. “My sweet girl, why are you being such a fool?” I sat up. “Grandma, I’m okay.” She placed the thermal container by my head and pulled a thick wad of crumpled bills from her pocket. “This is my emergency savings. You take it. Don’t you dare stay here and let them make you suffer.” I looked at the wrinkled cash, feeling a sharp twist of pain in my chest. This was all she had in the world, and she wanted to give it to me. But I gently pushed the money back. “Grandma, I really am fine. Dad, Mom, and Lila are fine, too. You shouldn’t worry.” Patsy’s hand froze in mid-air. She stared at me as if she were seeing a stranger. “Cassidy, you…” “I really am okay.” I offered a small, unsettling smile. “You’re getting older. You need to keep that money for yourself.” Grandma Patsy’s tears flowed harder. She reached out a trembling hand to touch my cheek, and I instinctively flinched away. The small, involuntary movement utterly broke her. She whirled around and stormed back into the living room, screaming at my parents. “What have you done to my girl? She won’t even let me touch her! You’ve turned my good, fiery granddaughter into this… this ghost!” Mom whispered, “Mom, Cassidy is just growing up. She’s being mature…” “Mature?” Grandma scoffed. “This is a heart that’s dead!” She pointed a finger directly at Dad’s face. “Robert, do you remember when Cassidy was a child and you promised her the world? And now? You give the world to Delilah and treat Cassidy like… like garbage!” Dad’s face flushed a deep red. “Mom, don’t listen to gossip. I treat both my daughters equally.” “Equally?” Patsy shook with rage. “The moment the fire broke out, you grabbed Delilah and ran! You left Cassidy trapped in the flames! You call that equal?” The living room fell silent. I heard Lila’s soft, whimpering cries. “Grandma, I’m so sorry, it’s all my fault…” “You shut your mouth!” Patsy roared at her. “How many things have you stolen from Cassidy since you were a toddler? And now you wanted her life, too?” Lila’s sobs grew louder. Mom quickly put her arm around her. “Mom, watch what you say. Lila is your granddaughter too.” “I don’t recognize that one as mine,” Grandma said, her face cold. “I only claim Cassidy.” She came back into the utility closet and grabbed my hand. “Cassidy, you’re coming with me. You are not staying here to be insulted.” I gently pulled my hand back. “Grandma, I’m not going.” “You—” “I really am fine.” I cut her off. “Please go home. I need to rest.” Grandma looked at me, the devastation in her eyes nearly overwhelming. In the end, she said nothing more, just tucked the wad of cash under my pillow, and left. The moment the door closed, I heard her crying outside. It was a choked, desolate sound. I closed my eyes and pulled the blanket over my head. Good. Now, the only person who had ever loved me had been pushed away by my own hands. No more weak spots. 3 In the days that followed, I became the most agreeable person in the Winters house. Mom asked me to do the dishes; I did them. Dad told me to mop the floor; I mopped it. Lila saw a dress of mine she liked; I took it off and gave it to her. She rooted through my jewelry box; I told her to take whatever she wanted. One afternoon, Lila took my favorite necklace. It was a delicate silver chain Grandma Patsy had given me for my eighteenth birthday. Mom saw it and quietly said, “Lila, that’s your sister’s birthday gift…” “It’s okay,” I said with a light, airy laugh. “If Sis likes it, she should wear it. I barely use it anyway.” Lila held the necklace, struggling to suppress a triumphant smile. But quickly, she dropped her eyes and put on her usual mask of practiced guilt. “Cassidy, are you… are you really sure you don’t mind?” “Not at all.” She hesitated for a beat, then fastened the necklace around her neck. That evening, I heard my parents talking in their room. “Cassidy has been completely abnormal lately,” Mom said. “Abnormal how? I think it’s great,” Dad scoffed, relieved. “The old Cassidy, fighting with Lila every day. Now we finally have peace.” “But…” Mom paused. “The way she looks at us… it’s strange. There’s no warmth, no daughterly affection. She looks at us like we’re absolute strangers.” “You’re imagining things.” The next day, Lila took my design portfolio to her school. It was the result of a month’s work—a complete collection I’d planned to submit to the prestigious Juniper Design Fellowship. She’d found it while rummaging through my things, and her eyes had lit up. “Cassidy, did you draw this? It’s incredible!” I nodded. “Can I… can I borrow it? My school has a portfolio deadline, and I’ve been completely blocked…” “Take it.” Lila paused, stunned. “Really? I can?” “Yes.” She grabbed the portfolio and ran. Mom had watched from the side, looking utterly conflicted. “Cassidy, that was your submission…” “It’s fine. I can draw another one.” Mom opened her mouth, but ultimately said nothing. A week later, Delilah won first place in her school’s design competition. She came home clutching the certificate, bursting with excitement as she showed it to our parents. “Mom, Dad, look! I won!” Dad was ecstatic. “That’s my girl! So talented!” Mom also smiled, relieved. “Lila, you’re so wonderful.” Lila then looked over at me, a flicker of guilt in her eyes. “Cassidy, thank you…” “Don’t mention it,” I said. “I’m happy you won, Sis.” She bit her lip, then suddenly rushed over and hugged me. “You’re so good to me, little sister.” I said nothing, just patted her back gently. But in my mind, I thought, Don’t worry, Sis. I have so much more ‘goodness’ coming your way. That night, my school principal called. Someone had reported Lila’s winning design as plagiarism. My parents’ faces immediately went white. They dragged Lila into the living room and tore into her. “How could you copy someone?!” “You’ve ruined the Winters name!” Lila was sobbing hysterically. “I didn’t copy! It was Cassidy who gave it to me…” Both my parents turned to me. I stood up. “I gave it to her.” “Why?” Dad demanded. “Because I helped her create it,” I said calmly. “That’s what I told the Principal when they called.” The Principal had indeed called me earlier. I had admitted, in front of the entire class, that the work was an assignment I had completed on behalf of my sister. I’d heard the cruel sneers behind me: “The plagiarist’s little helper is just as trashy.” Everyone looked at me with contempt. But I didn’t care. I didn’t care about anything anymore. My parents sighed in a collective relief. “You scared us to death. We thought it was real plagiarism.” Lila wiped her tears, looking at me. The guilt in her eyes had just deepened into something heavier, and more agonizing. 4 The turning point came without warning. My school offered me a special, early admission scholarship. It was the Presidential Scholarship to the Parsons School of Design, the best design program in the country, and there was only one awarded each year. The Principal called while I was mopping the floor in the kitchen. “Cassidy Winters, congratulations. You’ve been selected.” I stood there, gripping the mop handle, frozen for a long moment. “Thank you, Principal.” I hung up and went back to scrubbing. The stains on the tile, like the dirt on my life for the last twenty years, just wouldn’t scrub out. Lila was standing on the stairs. She’d heard everything. Her face turned pale, her nails digging into her palms. But quickly, she dropped her gaze and loosened her grip. That evening, she started to panic. She slammed doors in her room, crying and yelling that it wasn’t fair. “Why her? Why not me?!” Mom rushed in to comfort her. “Lila, honey, don’t cry…” “I don’t care! I want to go to that school! Mom, you have to help me…” Mom came out, finding me standing outside the utility closet, her expression complicated. “Cassidy, honey, you’ve always been the sensible one. Your sister has her heart set on that school. I was wondering… could you… give her your scholarship spot?” I set the book I was holding down on the cot. “Sure.” Mom’s breath hitched. “You… you agree?” “Mm-hmm.” I nodded. “If Lila wants it, she should have it. I don’t care either way.” Mom’s eyes lit up, but then a shadow of doubt crossed her face. “Cassidy, are you certain? It’s a full scholarship, to Parsons…” “I’m certain.” The next day, I went to school and signed the waiver. The Principal was stunned. “Cassidy, do you understand what you’re doing? This opportunity is one in a million…” “I understand.” I held the pen, signing my name across the official document. “But my sister needs it more than I do.” The Principal watched me, his expression heavy with disappointment. “You will regret this.” I smiled faintly. “No, I won’t.” When I got home, Dad called me over. He was sitting on the sofa, his posture rigid. “Cassidy, come here.” I walked toward him. He stared at me for a long time, then suddenly asked: “Your sister said she wants you to drop out, get a job at the warehouse, and give her the $3,000 a month you’d make to pay for her four years of college. Are you… also willing to do that?” The air froze for a few seconds. I nodded. “Yes.” My voice was as calm and still as stagnant water. “If you ask it of me, I’ll go.” My father’s face instantly drained of color. He shot up from the sofa, his hands gripping my shoulders, his eyes bloodshot with sudden, raw terror. He roared, his voice thick with a guttural rasp: “Cassidy Winters, goddammit, go back to how you were! You cry! You scream! Where is the old you?!” I looked up at him. I stared at him calmly. “Dad, did you forget?” My voice was a quiet whisper. “Three years ago, I argued with Lila over a cupcake, and you slapped me and said: ‘If you could just be sensible and easy like your sister, this house would have peace.’” My father’s hands fell away. All the color had fled his face, leaving him utterly white. I continued: “I’m sensible now. I’m doing exactly what you wished. Why… why do you look so upset?” Dad stumbled backward two steps. His mouth was open, but no sound came out. He stared at me, his breathing shallow and frantic, his eyes full of absolute dread. Mom rushed out of the kitchen. “What’s wrong? What happened?” She looked at Dad’s terrified face, then at me. “Cassidy, what did you say to your father?” I didn’t answer. I turned and walked back into the utility closet. Behind me, I heard my mother’s rising shriek of panic. “Rob! What is it? Don’t scare me like this…”

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