Category: English

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

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Some trust-fund kid strolled into the amusement park and, not wanting to wait in line, offered to buy my best friend and me out of our spots near the front. When Mia heard the offer, she exploded. “Money can’t buy you everything! We may be poor, but we have dignity. You want our spots? Dream on!” She grabbed my arm, her voice a fierce whisper. “Leah, we worked hard for this day out. You’re not just going to give up our spots, right? We have to have some self-respect.” Her words almost convinced me to tell the guy to get lost. But then, a series of comments scrolled across my vision, like some kind of augmented reality feed: 【The main character is so naive. Last time, after she refused the rich heir, her ‘best friend’ immediately added him on social media behind her back, sold him the spots, and pocketed fifty grand.】 【Later, when the MC’s parents got sick and she needed money, that same ‘friend’ not only refused to lend her a dime but pretended she didn’t even know her. The MC ended up dying on the streets. A total tragedy.】 I froze, staring at the phantom text. Fifty grand? Just for giving up a spot in line? You should have led with that. 1 “We’ve been waiting since six this morning,” Mia hissed in my ear, a frantic buzz of indignation. “We stood in this line for over an hour. These rich jerks just love to humiliate people. Don’t you dare say yes.” My head was spinning, the phantom comments still scrolling through my vision. 【Come on, MC, don’t be an idiot. That’s fifty thousand dollars. Don’t listen to your trash friend and throw that away for ‘dignity’.】 Crude, but true. All I could see were dollar signs. Fifty. Thousand. Dollars. I graduated a little over a year ago. My salary is barely four grand a month. It would take me years to save that much money. Decision made. I walked over to the guy, who was starting to look impatient. “No problem, sir. Fifty thousand, you said? I’m actually getting tired of waiting anyway. The spot’s all yours.” “Your Venmo.” He pulled out his phone, flashing the screen at me. For a second, I thought it was a phone number, not a bank balance. “Leah, what are you doing?!” Mia shrieked, stomping her foot. “Have you no self-respect? Selling out for a little cash!” I ignored her, pulling out my own phone. 【What’s happening? Did the main character just get a brain? This isn’t how it’s supposed to go.】 【No, this is perfect. The male lead likes people who know how to adapt. Arguing with him gets you nowhere. He was in a bad mood today and just came to the park to unwind, and the original MC just made things worse by being difficult.】 A soft ding from my phone confirmed the transfer. $50,000.00 received. A jolt went through me, making the hair on my arms stand up. My family has never seen this much money in one place. I just earned it by standing around for an hour. Somebody pinch me. Or slap me. This feels too easy; I’m almost suspicious. “Sir,” I said, a brilliant idea striking me. “Since you’ve been so generous, let me make your day even better. What other rides do you want to hit? I’ll go save you a spot. No charge, it’s on the house.” The comments had mentioned he was in a bad mood. A guy like him wouldn’t just ride one roller coaster. He’d want the full VIP experience to blow off steam. He looked up, a flicker of what looked like approval in his eyes. He probably wasn’t used to people being this accommodating. “Alright,” he said. “Give me your number. I’ll text you the rides I want to go on. Share your location so I can find you.” “No way!” Mia lunged forward and snatched my phone. Her eyes were blazing. “Leah, have you lost your mind? You’re just going to let this rich asshole treat you like his personal servant?” My friendly demeanor vanished. “Give me back my phone, Mia. This is my business, not yours.” I held out my hand. Then, I turned back to the man. “What should I call you, sir?” “Reid. Share your location. I don’t want you taking the money and running.” The lights of the waiting area were dim, but his eyes seemed to glitter. I quickly looked away and started heading out of the line. Mia shouted my name a few times, but I didn’t look back. I practically sprinted, afraid she’d slow me down and I’d miss getting to the next ride in time. 2 Reid texted me his next target: the pirate ship. I pulled up the park map and hurried over. On the way, I passed a convenience store and ducked inside, grabbing a bottle of ice-cold water and a small, portable fan. “Leah, come with me right now. Stop this.” Mia had found me, and she grabbed my arm, trying to drag me out of the store. She was putting on her best ‘I’m so worried about you’ act. “What you’re doing… it’s no different from what those girls on the street do. You’re selling yourself.” I rolled my eyes so hard I felt a muscle pull. “Don’t be so dramatic. How is this any different from my office job? I sell my time and energy to my boss there, too, and he pays me a hell of a lot less.” “I’ll transfer you five hundred dollars,” I said, pulling away from her. “Get a cab and go home. If you still want to hang out, we can do it another time. Today’s not going to work.” “Five hundred?! He gave you fifty thousand!” she blurted out. And there it was. She wasn’t mad for my sake. She was mad because she wasn’t getting a cut. “Take it or leave it.” I pushed past her and headed for the door. The next second, she crumpled to the floor with a dramatic cry. “Ow, ow, ow! My leg! I think my old injury is acting up! Leah, you have to take me to the hospital, I can’t get up!” My first instinct was to rush over and check on her. But then, the comments flared to life again. 【She’s faking it. Don’t fall for it, MC. Her leg is perfectly fine.】 【The MC is too kind. Her so-called ‘best friend’ lied and said she broke her leg in a car crash while buying her a birthday present. The truth is, she wiped out on her boyfriend’s motorcycle and was too scared to tell her parents, so she used the MC as a cover story.】 What? I stared at the text, my brain screeching to a halt. Two years ago, on my birthday, Mia called me from the hospital, hysterical. She’d been in a car accident, she said, and had broken her leg. I rushed over, paid her medical bills, and felt wracked with guilt when she told me it happened while she was on her way to buy my birthday gift. I ended up canceling my own birthday plans to take care of her. It was all a lie? She was the one who had been playing me for a fool all along. “Leah, hurry up and help me! I can’t move!” Mia wailed from the floor. I turned to the store clerk. “I don’t really know her,” I said calmly. “She seems to be hurt. Could you please call an ambulance for her?” The clerk and a few other well-meaning customers immediately rushed to Mia’s side, surrounding her. With so many people watching, she couldn’t exactly jump up and say she was fine. She had no choice but to commit to the act. I slipped out the back door and made a beeline for the pirate ship. 3 By the time I was near the front of the line, Reid showed up. I handed him the cold water and switched on the mini-fan, aiming a pleasant breeze at his face. He visibly relaxed, his mood improving. With a grand wave of his hand, he sent another ten thousand dollars to my account. Once he seemed rested, I was off again, heading to the next attraction on his list. Luckily, I’d done my research before coming, planning out not just the best rides, but the best restaurants in the park too. By the end of the day, Reid was fed, thrilled, and actually smiling. As for me, I was exhausted, but my bank account had never been healthier. The final ride was the Ferris wheel. It was getting dark, and the park’s fireworks show was about to start. The top of the Ferris wheel was the best spot for photos, and the line was already massive. I skipped dinner to race over and secure a prime spot for my golden goose. Reid strolled over after a leisurely meal. As I was about to give him the spot, he tossed a takeout bag at me. “You’ve worked hard all day. Eat something.” I looked at the logo on the bag and felt a genuine pang of gratitude. I hadn’t eaten partly because I wanted to hold his spot, but mostly because the park food was ridiculously expensive. I had a pack of ramen in my backpack, and I was planning on finding some hot water for it later. But now, the boss was treating me. I grinned like a fool and started to step away to find a bench. “Eat here,” Reid said, stopping me. “You’re coming on with me.” I frowned. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. I only saved one spot.” He made an impatient sound and turned to the guy behind him in line. “Hey, buddy. A thousand bucks to let my friend have your spot.” The guy’s eyes lit up, and he agreed instantly. Hang on. Did anyone ask for my opinion? I wasn’t dying to ride the Ferris wheel. And getting into a small, private cabin with a guy I’d known for less than a day sounded… awkward. Reid seemed to read my mind. He gave me a light tap on the back of the head. “Don’t overthink it. Who’s going to take my picture if I go up alone?” Right. Sure. The bullet comments, however, had other ideas. 【Such a tsundere. He’s totally falling for her. She’s been a one-woman support crew all day—food when he’s hungry, drinks when he’s thirsty, disposable slippers when his feet hurt, and she even had bug spray when a mosquito bit him. Who wouldn’t fall for a girl like that?】 I kept my head down, ignoring them. I’d packed all that stuff for myself. Reid just got lucky. Besides, I treated my old boss at the office with the same level of service. Reid was just another client. And who in their right mind falls for their boss? 4 By the time we left the park, the sky was pitch black. I figured a guy like Reid drove himself, so I was about to say my goodbyes and head for the subway when a fleet of black cars pulled up to the curb. Even a broke girl like me could tell from the logos that they were obscenely expensive. A sharply dressed middle-aged woman stepped out of the lead car. She radiated power. “Did you have a good time, son? Let’s go home.” “How did you know I was here?” Reid’s voice was tight. “Did you have me followed again?” I hung back, trying to make myself invisible. This was family drama, and I wanted no part of it. The last train was leaving soon. “Young lady, wait a moment!” The woman—his mother, I presumed—spotted my escape attempt and called out to me. 【Quick, MC, go say hi! In the original story, the ‘best friend’ got her ticket into high society by sucking up to his mom!】 【Forget it. The MC is a total introvert. She sees a stranger and her first instinct is to bolt. Too bad. Mrs. Vance was so happy to see Reid enjoying himself, she was about to offer her a job as his personal companion. The pay is way better than her office job.】 The idea of marrying into a rich family held zero interest for me, but the word “job” made my ears perk up. I might be an introvert, but for the right price, I can be whatever you need me to be. I immediately shifted into work mode. “Yes, ma’am? How can I help you?” “I hear you spent the whole day with Reid. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen him this happy. Would you be willing to… continue spending time with him?” The wording was a little strange, but I went with it. “If Mr. Vance needs me, I’m available. I know all the best spots, not just amusement parks, but all sorts of attractions.” “That’s wonderful! I can’t stand seeing him cooped up at home playing video games all day. It would be a relief to know you’re getting him out of the house.” Reid, for his part, seemed to agree that I’d done a good job and didn’t object. Before I knew it, one of his mother’s assistants was taking down my information to draw up a contract for a “full-time companion,” complete with salary and benefits. Mrs. Vance even had one of the cars drive me home so I wouldn’t have to take the subway. My life was getting ridiculously, wonderfully better. The next morning, I quit my job. Then I took my parents to the hospital for a full set of check-ups—better to catch any problems early. Mrs. Vance had a car delivered to me, so I wouldn’t have to drag Reid around on public transport. And since I had a driver’s license, she gave me a second salary to act as his chauffeur. The bullet comments were having a field day, shipping me and Reid hard. 【Look at the way he looks at her! He’s totally in love. So sweet. This timeline is so much better.】 【Uh, does no one remember he has a childhood sweetheart? In his heart, she’s always going to be number one.】 A childhood sweetheart? I mentally shrugged. What does that have to do with me? I’m just here to do a job. A few days later, I drove to Reid’s house to pick him up for a hike. As I got out of the car, a stunningly beautiful woman blocked my path. “So you’re the ‘companion’ my aunt hired for Reid?” I was about to get a better look at her face when the comments started flying. 【Whoa, why is the childhood sweetheart back now?】 【She’s known him for fifteen years. Our MC has known him for fifteen days. The match is already decided.】 A friend of the boss is half a boss. I put on my most professional smile. “Hello. I’m Reid’s companion. My name is Leah.” She shot me a dismissive look. “You’re fired. Don’t come back.” Excuse me? Who did she think she was, trying to cut off my income stream just like that? My smile vanished. “I’m afraid that’s not your decision to make. I have a contract with Mr. Vance. If you want to fire me, you’ll have to go through the proper channels.” With that, I sidestepped her and walked toward the villa. “Didn’t you hear me? This isn’t a place you can just walk into! Get out!” She lunged at me, shoving me hard. I stumbled back, catching myself on the doorframe just before I fell. “Sienna, what the hell are you doing?!” Reid had come out just in time to see it. “Reid! This woman is deceiving you! She’s a gold digger who’s been targeting you from the start! You and your mother have both been fooled!” Sienna held up a stack of printed-out screenshots. They were supposedly chat logs, showing that I had spotted Reid and his expensive car at the park and had been plotting to seduce him the entire time. I saw the familiar profile picture and my heart sank.

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Every time we fought, Evan would take out his hearing aids. He wouldn’t listen, wouldn’t look at me, wouldn’t speak. Just a wall of impenetrable silence. Cold war. Our friends would always try to smooth it over. “He’s just so fragile, Clara. You have to be the one to be more patient.” “I mean, think about it. His world is so small. He only has you.” And I believed them. I was the one who always compromised, always folded, always begged for peace. Until I saw him with Chloe. She was his junior from grad school, also deaf since birth. I watched him coax her, make her laugh, and apologize first when they bickered. Seeing how well he knew how to love someone else was like a splash of ice water to the face. An epiphany. That night, I told him I wanted a divorce. In response, Evan’s face went cold as he reached up and pulled out his hearing aids. He didn’t hear me. The next morning, he opened the bedroom door with that same old air of condescending authority. “Alright, Clara, you can come in. I forgive you.” But this time, there were no grateful tears from me. The apartment was empty, hollow. The only thing that answered him was a piece of paper I’d taped to the door, fluttering in the draft from an open window. Evan, your world is small. But mine is still so big. I won’t be walking the rest of the way with you. 1 The moment I pushed open the door to the party, the room went quiet. Some people shot me nervous glances; others couldn’t meet my eyes at all. Because Evan was busy comforting a girl. The girl, Chloe, was deaf, just like him. She wore a pair of pale pink hearing aids. Right now, though, she had them out, her hands clamped over her ears, face crumpled on the verge of tears, refusing to listen to a word he said. Evan saw me. His eyes flickered toward me for a single, dismissive second before returning to her. He unwrapped a small cupcake from a paper box, his voice a low, patient murmur as he tried to coax her. It was the first time I’d ever seen Evan like this—soothing, gentle. Because of his deafness from a young age, his temper was a twisted, volatile thing. He was impossibly fragile, painfully sensitive. In the seven years we’d been together, that kind of tender, placating behavior was something reserved exclusively for me to perform for him. I stood frozen by the door. The girl seemed to sense the shift in the atmosphere. She turned her head and her eyes locked with mine. The tears that had been welling up finally spilled over, streaming down her cheeks. She shoved Evan away and ran out of the room. Without a moment’s hesitation, Evan was on his feet, chasing after her. He paused for a fraction of a second as he passed me, finally granting me a proper look. “Chloe’s deaf, and she doesn’t know anyone here in Boston,” he said, his voice clipped. “I’ll find her, make sure she’s safe, and then I’ll come home.” I said nothing. Evan was clearly agitated. “Clara, she could get hurt running off like that.” He frowned, reaching out to push me aside. “Be reasonable. If you want to start a fight, pick a better time.” I stumbled, my back hitting the wall. Evan didn’t even notice. He was already gone, his long strides carrying him down the hall and into the elevator without a single glance back. 2 The silence in the room was thick and suffocating. Finally, one of our friends stepped in to play peacemaker, just like always. “Clara, Chloe is just a student from his old department. They’re both deaf, so Evan feels like he needs to look out for her. It’s a big brother thing.” “Seriously, don’t get the wrong idea,” another one chimed in, nudging others to agree. “We can all vouch for him. He just sees her as a kid sister.” The room came back to life with a chorus of reassurances. “Yeah, we see it all the time.” “He just feels bad for her, a young girl coming all the way to Boston for school by herself.” “He’s just trying to help her out.” They talked and talked, trying to paint it as nothing, a trivial little moment. But all I could see was the image of Evan with her. The clumsy way he’d opened the little cupcake box. The care he took to hand her the tiny fork. When she’d pulled out her hearing aids in a huff, he knew she couldn’t hear him, but he kept speaking to her anyway, his voice soft and patient, trying to soothe her with the sheer force of his calm. I wondered if Evan even realized. Everything he had just done for Chloe… was exactly what I had done for him, countless times, for seven years. Every time we argued, he would pull out his hearing aids, his face a blank mask. He’d lock himself in our bedroom for the entire night. No listening, no talking, just silence. A war of attrition. His friends would always say to me: “Clara, you know how he is. He’s so fragile, so sensitive. He needs more patience, more unconditional love than most people.” “His world is so small, and in all these years, you’re the only one he’s ever let in.” “He really does love you. He just doesn’t know how to love.” And I believed them. So every time he locked himself away, I would sit outside that door all night long. I knew he couldn’t hear me, but I’d fight off sleep and, every so often, I’d tap lightly on the wood. What if he puts them back in just for a second? I’d think. What if he happens to hear me knocking? Then he’ll know I’m still out here, waiting for him. And maybe… maybe he won’t be angry anymore. But now, watching him, seeing how perfectly capable he was of loving someone… it was like a switch had flipped. Maybe he had never loved me. Or maybe he had, for a fleeting moment in our youth. Or maybe it was just that for all these years, I was the only one with enough patience to tolerate him. The only one willing to shrink my own world to fit inside his tiny, suffocating one. 3 I managed a small, tight smile. Just like I had a thousand times before. “I know,” I said softly to the anxious faces watching me. “I’ll just… I’ll go home and wait for him.” A collective sigh of relief seemed to pass through the room. Evan’s friends smiled, their warmth returning as they walked me to the elevator. As the doors were closing, I heard one of them on the phone. “She’s not mad, don’t worry about it.” A pause. “Dude, you’ve known her for years. You could burn down the city and she’d just smile and say you did a great job.” The doors slid shut, cutting off the voice. I looked up and saw my reflection in the polished steel. My face was pale, and the dress I was wearing suddenly looked drab and gray. The only spot of color on me was the wedding ring on my finger. There was a time when I used to shine, seated at a grand piano on a stage. After I married Evan, I became his assistant, his housekeeper, his secretary. My piano sat in the attic, gathering dust. My fingers, I realized, didn’t feel so nimble anymore. 4 Evan came home very late that night. He did what he always did, shrugging off his jacket and tie and holding them out for me to take. This time, I didn’t move. I stood under the living room light and saw it: a few tiny, pink rhinestones stuck to his black hearing aid. The same color as Chloe’s. He clutched the tie in his fist, his brow furrowing slightly—the first sign of his displeasure. Still, I didn’t step forward. His patience finally snapped. He tossed the clothes onto the sofa and fixed his gaze on me. “Clara. Are you throwing a tantrum?” I shook my head. I wasn’t throwing a tantrum. If I were screaming, crying, making a scene—that would mean I still cared. That would mean, deep down, I had no intention of actually leaving. “Chloe got hurt,” he said flatly. “She wasn’t wearing her aids and didn’t hear a car horn.” He raised a hand and adjusted his glasses. He had beautiful hands, long and elegant. It felt like a lifetime ago, but I used to be hopelessly in love with every part of him. “She’s all alone here. I can’t just ignore that. Clara, surely you’re not that devoid of empathy.” His brow was tight, his handsome face etched with a mix of exhaustion and irritation. He was never a man of many words, so this much of an explanation felt like a grand concession. A laugh escaped me, small and bitter. “What if it were me?” His eyes narrowed. “I have male friends from my conservatory days,” I continued. “What if I treated them the way you treated Chloe today?” Evan’s expression turned to ice. “Clara.” A cruel, mocking smile twisted his lips. “So that’s it. You’re regretting it. Regretting marrying a cripple like me. Missing out on all your ‘good friends’ from the conservatory?” My heart felt like burnt incense, collapsing into a pile of ash and scattering into nothing. It’s over, Clara. Just let it be over. I opened my mouth to tell him to wait, that I was going to get the divorce papers I’d already drawn up. But he had already turned his back on me, walking toward the bedroom. I watched him go. Even the line of his back seemed to radiate a cold distance. It felt like I’d spent years of my life just looking at his back. Before, it would have filled me with a familiar ache of sadness. Now, all I felt was a dull emptiness. “Evan.” I said his name, my voice soft. He stopped, his hand on the doorknob, and looked back over his shoulder. “Let’s get a divorce.” In the exact instant the words left my lips, he raised his hand and took out his hearing aid. Just like he had a thousand times before whenever there was a conflict, a disagreement. So he didn’t hear me. His eyes were cold. He gave me one last, freezing look, then turned away and went into the room. A soft click. Infinitely familiar. Evan had locked the door. 5 I stood there for a moment, but I didn’t linger. I walked to the entryway, slipped off my house slippers, and put on my shoes. My packed suitcase was sitting right there. Evan hadn’t seen it. Or maybe he had. And just hadn’t cared. I placed the signed divorce agreement on the console table by the door. As I pulled my suitcase behind me and stepped out of the apartment, I took a deep breath. And I felt, for the first time in a long time, incredibly light. I didn’t look back. I knew I never would. On the way to my old pre-marriage apartment, I saw a new post on Chloe’s Instagram feed. A picture of her pink hearing aid resting next to a black one. They looked like two small, kindred things, huddled together. The caption read: Only someone who has walked through the same storm can understand your deepest pain. And right below it, a single ‘like’ from Evan. My hand trembled. My vision blurred for a second. So many people had told me, so many times, “Clara, you saved him.” “You’re the only one who can understand his pain, his frustration.” “We’re his friends, and even we can’t imagine what would have happened to Evan if you hadn’t come along.” He had been so angry, so isolated. His social skills were a disaster. It had almost cost him his academic career. I used to believe I truly understood him. I used to believe, ridiculously, that I had redeemed him. But in that one moment, that one ‘like’ on Instagram turned the last seven years of my life into a joke. Of course. He and Chloe were the same. They had lost their hearing as children. They understood each other’s pain in a way I never could. And me? I was just the healthy girl with a perfectly sound body and mind who had insisted on inserting herself into someone else’s tragedy. I’d let my own life become a complete mess in the process. I scrolled past her post. I blocked Evan. And I blocked everyone in his orbit. His world really was small. So small it was suffocating. So I was leaving. 6 At four in the morning, Evan woke up. He got up for a glass of water, glanced at his watch, and then, on a strange impulse, put his hearing aids back in. He lay back down, closing his eyes, and waited. If things went as they always did, it wouldn’t be long now. A soft knock would come at the door. Just three taps. So quiet that if you weren’t listening for them, you’d miss them completely. It was Clara’s favorite little game. She thought he had no idea. But he’d known from the very beginning. He just never let on. For three years, he had savored this ritual. It filled him with a deep, reassuring sense of being loved by her. He lay in bed, counting silently in his head. A small smile played on his lips. Any second now. He held his breath, listening. He could hear his own heartbeat in the silent room. But he did not hear the soft, familiar knock on the door. 7 His eyes snapped open. He stared at the closed door in the dim, pre-dawn light. Did she fall asleep? It had happened before. She would cry so hard that she’d exhaust herself and fall asleep right there in the hallway. He’d open the door in the morning to find her curled up against it, sleeping soundly. It was their unspoken truce. Once the night was over, everything was forgiven. They would go back to how they were. He tried to close his eyes, to go back to sleep, but a strange unease prickled at him. After tossing and turning, he finally gave in, throwing back the covers. He didn’t even realize his own haste as he strode to the door and pulled it open. “Alright, Clara, you can come in. I forgive you.” But the hallway was empty, bathed in the cool, sterile light of dawn. The small, sleeping figure he expected to find slumped against his door wasn’t there. Evan felt his heart leap into his throat. He walked out, pushing open the door to every room. They were all empty, cold. The kitchen, the bathroom. Every corner. No sign of Clara. Finally, his eyes landed on the entryway. He saw her slippers. Her pink bunny slippers. He walked toward them slowly, his mind a jumble of thoughts. She put on her shoes, so she must have gone out. The farmer’s market? She’s always going on about buying fresh produce. His heart began to settle. Yes, that had to be it. Clara was always so worried about his health. Whenever she was home, she cooked every meal for him. But then he saw the note taped to the front door. A breeze from somewhere made it flutter. He let out a huge sigh of relief, a smile touching his lips. It must be a note from her, telling him she went out to buy groceries and would be back soon. Thinking this, he reached out and plucked the note from the door. The handwriting was hers. But the words were not at all what he expected. Evan, your world is small. But mine is still so big. Sorry, but I won’t be walking the rest of the way with you. The paper slipped from his fingers, drifting to the floor. Evan stared at it, bewildered. What did she mean by that? Not walking the rest of the way with you? He turned, flustered, to go find his phone, but his eyes caught something on the console table. A document. The words “Divorce Agreement,” in bold black letters, seared themselves into his vision. Evan stood frozen for a full minute, as if he’d forgotten how to read. How could it be a divorce agreement? Clara wouldn’t file for divorce. How could she dare to file for divorce? She had proposed to him seven times before he finally said yes. How could she possibly have the nerve to bring up divorce now? 8 Of course. She wouldn’t. She didn’t have it in her. He knew better than anyone how much Clara had loved him. Evan slowly composed himself. He didn’t even bother to open the thin stack of papers. He simply picked them up, tore them in half, and dropped them into the trash can, along with the note from the floor. If she wanted to throw a tantrum, fine. Let her. She’d come back on her own when she was done. It wasn’t the first time she’d stormed out. Once before, he’d simply had a friend mention to her that he hadn’t eaten a proper meal in two days. She was back before dinner. But what surprised Evan was that three full days passed without a single word from Clara. She didn’t come home. There were no calls, no texts. It was as if she had truly vanished. He even posted a picture on his Instagram story on purpose: an ashtray overflowing with cigarette butts next to an empty bottle of whiskey. She’s a hawk about smoking and drinking, he thought. If she sees this, she won’t be able to stand it for a second. And when she came storming back to lecture him, he’d make sure she understood just how he was going to punish her for disappearing for three days. 9 When Evan posted that story, I was having dinner with my friend Maya. We were discussing the division of assets for the divorce. I’d been a homemaker after we got married, fully supporting Evan’s career. He’d made a good amount of money in the last few years, and half of it was legally mine. I had blocked Evan, so I knew nothing about his post. Maya saw it on her phone and looked at me, a hesitant expression on her face. “What is it?” I asked. “Evan just posted something.” She held her phone out to me. “Do you… want to see?” “Whatever he posts has nothing to do with me.” I started to wave it away. But Maya was insistent. “Clara, don’t run from it. I need to be sure you’re serious about this divorce, that this isn’t just some fight you’re going to regret in three days.” “I won’t regret it.” “Good. Then look. Prove to me that you won’t feel sorry for him, that you won’t go soft. The last thing I need is to go into battle for you, only for you to turn around and get back together with him.” I looked at Maya’s exasperated face and felt a pang of guilt. She had spent years telling me I deserved better than Evan. My sudden decision to leave was, understandably, something she was still skeptical about. “Fine, I’ll look.” I took the phone. I saw the picture. Maya watched my face like a hawk. I felt a flicker of surprise, and then… nothing. I calmly handed the phone back to her. “Okay, I’ve seen it.” “You’re not sad? Not angry?” All our friends knew that while I let Evan get away with almost anything, smoking and drinking were the two things I absolutely forbade. I shrugged, mimicking a gesture Maya often made. “Is it any of my business? He’s my soon-to-be ex-husband.” Maya narrowed her eyes and pressed the back of her hand to my forehead. “You don’t have a fever.” “Maya, I’m serious,” I said, taking her hand. “I want a divorce. I am divorcing Evan. And I am going to start playing the piano again. I’m going to play all the way to Vienna.” “Clara!” Maya threw her arms around me, her own eyes turning red. “Do you know how long I’ve been dreaming of this day? I didn’t think it would ever actually happen.” I hugged her back tightly, a tear finally escaping and rolling down my cheek. “It’s okay,” I whispered. “I’m only twenty-six. There’s still time to cut my losses and start over.” 10 Maya had to leave for an emergency at her law firm. I stayed and ordered another glass of wine. By the time I left, I was pleasantly buzzed. I walked out of the restaurant and an elevator dinged open. A loud, laughing group of people stepped out. Leading the pack were Evan and Chloe. They were standing side-by-side, looking for all the world like a perfect couple. The moment they saw me, the laughter died. Evan’s eyes lit up for a split second when he saw me. Then he arched an eyebrow, a faint, smug smile spreading across his face. “Well, look who it is. Following me, Clara?” Before I could answer, Chloe sniffed and turned her head away. “Some people just don’t know when to quit.” “Hey, hey, what did I say?” one of the friends muttered, nudging her. Evan just chuckled and flicked Chloe’s forehead lightly. “Be nice.” Then his gaze drifted back to me. “You should at least call her by her name.” Chloe stomped her foot. “Evan!” She looked utterly betrayed, her eyes instantly welling up. “You know… you know perfectly well…” Her words trailed off, but the implication was clear. “Know what? You girls and your complicated feelings are a mystery to me,” Evan said with a light laugh. A tear slid down Chloe’s cheek. “Evan, you’re being mean to me again.” She was in love with him. The whole world knew it. Evan knew it, too. But he pretended not to. He just basked in the warmth of a young girl’s adoration. I was completely done with this soap opera. I turned to walk toward the other elevator bank. But I only made it two steps before Evan’s hand clamped around my arm. “Clara. Perfect timing.” I tried to shake him off, but his grip tightened. I winced. “Evan, let go. You’re hurting me.” “Hurting you?” he scoffed. “What about the injuries Chloe sustained?” “What does her getting hurt have to do with me?” I was baffled, and frankly, disgusted. Was he really going to try to pin Chloe’s accident on me? “It has everything to do with you,” Evan said, his eyes fixed on mine. “The driver who hit her was Alex’s former assistant. Don’t tell me that’s just a coincidence, Clara.” “Alex? My old mentor from the conservatory?” Evan sneered. “Yes, that Alex. The one who’s been pathetically pinning after you for years, the one who won’t date anyone else because of you. Are you going to tell me he didn’t orchestrate this whole thing just to get back at her for you?” 11 I stared at Evan, so stunned by the absurdity of his accusation that I actually laughed. Had his academic work turned his brain to mush? Or had that bottle of whiskey fried his last few brain cells? Alex was one of the top lawyers in the city. He was so busy he was constantly flying all over the world. The idea of him stooping to such a childish, petty act was ludicrous. “Besides,” Evan continued, his voice dripping with condescension, “he’s in love with you, so of course he’d do anything for you. But Chloe is innocent in all this. Whatever mistakes she might have made, she didn’t deserve this.” His gaze dropped to my left hand. My ring finger was bare. I had taken off my wedding ring. I wasn’t stupid enough to throw away a three-carat diamond, but I wasn’t wearing it, either. His eyes darkened. “Let’s do this, Clara,” he said, his tone shifting to one of magnanimous authority. “Alex is your friend. He did this for you. The least you can do is apologize to Chloe.” He held my wrist tightly, looking down at me. “You apologize, and we can put this all behind us. I’ll make sure Chloe doesn’t press charges.” Chloe sniffed, turning her nose up. “Well, I was going to press charges. Intentional injury is a serious crime.” She looked at me reluctantly. “Clara. I’m only accepting your apology for Evan’s sake. So you’d better make it sound like you mean it.”

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My brother is a superstar. On a family reality show, the host asked us to share a funny story about him. Charlotte went first: “He once bought out a whole store of blind boxes just so I could get the one I wanted.” Felicity giggled: “He tried to send a pic to our group chat and accidentally sent a nude.” Leo turned beet red: “Shut up!” The audience laughed. The host turned to me: “And you, the middle sister, did you save it?” I shrugged: “Nope. I’m not in the group chat.” The cheerful mood froze. The host tried to recover: “I’m sure he’s bought you plenty of blind boxes too.” I smiled shyly: “No, but he did give me a four-leaf clover necklace once.” A sigh of envy went through the crowd. Money, glamour, generosity. I blinked. “It was originally for Charlotte,” I continued softly. “But he gave it to me so I’d agree to move out.” “When she saw it on me, she called me a thief.” “Dad threw me in the pool to ‘clear my head.’ Later we found out it was all a misunderstanding. Isn’t that funny?” I looked at the silent audience. “Huh? Why isn’t anyone laughing?” 1 The show was broadcasting live. On the massive screen behind us, the live chat was scrolling at lightning speed: 【I smell tea. THIS IS THE GOOD STUFF.】 【Rich family drama? Secret scandals? SIGN ME UP.】 【OMG, get in here, you guys! @AbsForDays @LegsForYears】 【Wait, didn’t Leo Vance say he only had one older and one younger sister? Where did this one come from?】 【Just checked his Wikipedia page. The family section is totally missing a middle sister. What is going on?】 【She doesn’t look adopted. She has their mom’s eyes.】 The online detectives were sharp. I am, technically, a Vance. A daughter born of their blood, but a stranger in their hearts. My parents had four children in total: one boy, three girls. I was the second youngest. We all used to live in a small, sleepy seaside town. Then my uncle struck it rich in the city and offered to bring my parents into his business. The catch was, he could only secure school placements for three children. After a brief discussion, my parents decided to leave me behind. They paid one of my dad’s old coworkers, a man I barely knew, a meager fee each month to look after me. I didn’t rejoin the Vance family until I finished middle school. By then, they were living in a sprawling mansion. I only lived at home for a single semester of high school before I opted to board at my new school. I rarely came home, maybe once a month if that. I was a ghost in their family photos. It was no wonder the public had never seen me. If the show’s producers hadn’t happened to call while I was home for a rare visit, no one would have ever known the Vance family had another daughter. 2 【OMG! I know her! She was a total brainiac at Westwood High, graduated this year. We all knew she was smart, but a secret heiress? Wild.】 【Westwood?? A Vance kid at Westwood High? You’ve got to be kidding. All the rich kids go to Northwood Academy.】 【It’s true. She actually transferred from Northwood.】 【What? Why would anyone trade a mansion for a dorm room? That’s insane.】 Seeing the speculation dig deeper, I smiled sweetly at the camera. “Please, don’t misunderstand,” I said. “After they realized the truth, everyone apologized to me.” “We have very strong family values. My dad is a big believer in character education; he just got a little rough out of concern for his daughter.” I paused, letting the lie settle. “You need high moral standards to run a successful company, right?” “And my brother only wanted me to go to boarding school to foster my independence. It came from a good place.” “Besides,” I added, “after the misunderstanding was cleared up, Dad transferred me a huge sum of money as compensation.” The host’s eyes lit up. “Can you give us a number? Let us live vicariously.” I turned to my father. “Dad, how much was it again?” His face was a mask of stone. “$200,000.” “Wow!” A wave of envious gasps swept the studio. My father continued, warming to the topic. “Our family believes in clear consequences. Rewards for good behavior, punishments for mistakes. No nonsense. It’s the same principle I apply to my business…” The doubt in the live chat evaporated, replaced by a flood of praise: 【That’s a true industry titan for you. A man of principle.】 【Mr. Vance, you can throw me in a pool and then give me $200k anytime.】 【Ugh, I wish I had a brother like that.】 Amid the chorus of adulation, the show wrapped up smoothly. My father, beaming with pride, even invited me to ride home in his car. I glanced at Felicity, who was pouting, her arm wrapped around her Doberman. “It’s okay,” I said. “Shadow should have the space. He doesn’t like me getting too close.” Shadow was Felicity’s dog, and he was vicious. A pale, jagged scar on my calf was permanent proof of his temperament. My mother shot Felicity a look of mild disapproval. “Felicity, you’re so spoiled. Make room for your sister.” Felicity just nuzzled the dog’s head, her eyes flashing a challenge at me. “I can make room. The question is, would she dare to sit here?” “Oh, you,” my mother sighed, as if helpless, then turned to me. “Well, Nina, I guess you can just grab a cab to Saffron’s.” They’d made reservations for a late supper after the show. I, of course, hadn’t been included in the original headcount. I looked at Charlotte and Felicity, whose faces had simultaneously soured at the thought of my presence. I smiled. “I’m a bit tired. I think I’ll just go home.” My mother let out a quiet sigh of relief, though her words were laced with complaint. “You’re just so distant. You never join in on family activities, and then you’ll turn around and say I play favorites.” “Mom, please stop,” Leo interrupted, walking over and taking my arm. “Come on,” he said gently. “I’ll drive you home.” 3 In stark contrast to her coldness towards me, Felicity leaned out the car window, calling after Leo. “Hurry back, big brother! We’ll wait for you!” I tried to pull my arm away from his grasp. “I can get a cab. You don’t have to.” Leo’s grip didn’t loosen. “You’re my sister. It’s not a bother.” I raised an eyebrow in surprise. So, the great Leo Vance did know how to act human. Then I caught a glimpse of the fans lingering nearby, phones raised, snapping pictures. Ah. I understood. I complied, getting into the car and staring silently out the window as the city lights blurred past. At a red light, Leo spoke suddenly. “I’m surprised you still remember that.” I kept my gaze fixed outside, a small smile playing on my lips. He sighed. “Either way, thank you for today.” That was a first. The proud, untouchable superstar, thanking me. I was about to make a sarcastic remark when my phone buzzed with a text. 【DEPOSIT NOTIFICATION: $200,000.00 has been transferred to your account.】 【From Dad: Good performance today. This is your reward.】 I cashed it in, then showed the screen to Leo. “So, brother,” I said, my voice dripping with manufactured sweetness. “About that ‘thank you’… I prefer something a little more tangible.” Leo agreed instantly. “I’ve already ordered you the newest four-leaf clover necklace from their collection. It should arrive tomorrow.” My smile widened. “Thanks, big brother.” Leo looked a little uncomfortable. “Don’t mention it. I should have gotten it for you a long time ago.” He wasn’t wrong. In tenth grade, he’d used that necklace to bribe me into moving out to the dorms. The problem was, he never told Charlotte. When she saw her promised gift around my neck, she immediately branded me a thief. The entire family sided with her. My father, without a second thought, kicked me into the deep end of the pool. I couldn’t swim. I remember the shock of the cold water, the burning in my lungs as I swallowed mouthful after mouthful, thrashing in a desperate panic. They just stood on the edge, watching me. Luckily, Leo got home in time to pull me out. Charlotte stood there, clutching the necklace, her expression arrogant. “I don’t care. It was promised to me, so it’s mine.” My father tossed a few bills at my feet. “It’s just a necklace. If your sister likes it, let her have it. Go buy yourself something else.” The money amounted to $200. It was the first and only allowance I ever received after returning to the Vance family. The streetlights flashed across my face, and I narrowed my eyes. “It’s fine,” I murmured. “Better late than never, I guess.” 4 During the short drive, Felicity called him at least three times. Leo dropped me at the front gate and sped off. I took a long bath, and just as I was getting comfortable in bed, my phone lit up with a series of notifications. Charlotte had added me to the family group chat. 【Charlotte: Welcome, Nina. My mistake, I can’t believe I forgot to add you sooner.】 【Felicity: (Yawning emoji) We don’t really use this chat much anyway, so it doesn’t matter if she’s in it or not lol (Clown emoji)】 【Charlotte: (Smiling emoji) (Smiling emoji) (Smiling emoji)】 【Leo: Nina, want me to bring you anything? (Image) (Image) (Image)】 A stream of lavish food photos buried the previous messages. I was about to decline but changed my mind. 【Anything is fine. Thanks, brother.】 Leo sent back an “OK” emoji, and the chat went silent. I switched to another conversation and transferred the $200,000. 【Mr. Miller, the hospital in the city is all set. You and Mrs. Miller should take Jason for the prosthetic eye surgery next week. I’ll join you afterward.】 The “typing…” indicator blinked for a long time. Finally, a short message appeared: 【Be careful. We’ll be waiting for you.】 A lump formed in my throat, and a tear rolled down my cheek. Soon. It won’t be long now. 5 The next morning, my mother called me down for breakfast. Felicity winked at me. “Oh, Nina, you missed out last night. The king crab at Saffron’s was to die for.” Charlotte nudged a sleepy-looking Leo. “Brother, didn’t you say you were going to bring something back for Nina?” Leo froze, a guilty look washing over his face. “Oh… right. I’m so sorry, I forgot.” Before I could say a word, my mother set her bowl down with a sharp clink. “What is there to apologize for? She had the chance to go and she didn’t. No one is obligated to bring her food. We don’t tolerate princesses in this house.” I sighed, exhausted. “Mom, you’re overthinking it. I wasn’t expecting anything.” “Maybe not now, but that doesn’t mean you won’t later. I’m teaching you a lesson. Now, tell me you understand.” She continued, her voice rising. “You must have picked up that habit of talking back from the Millers. It’s been almost three years, and you’re still so unpolished. How am I supposed to present you to society like this?” “I was planning to introduce you to the Fords’ son, to see if you two could build a connection…” “Mom!” Leo cut her off. “Nina just graduated. She’s going to college. Why are you setting her up on blind dates?” “Oh, right,” Mom said, as if just remembering. She fixed her gaze on me. “Nina, what did you score on your finals? What university did you get into?” I kept my expression neutral. “Nothing special, way worse than Charlotte’s scores. Just a 650. I’m going to Westwood University.” My mother seemed to let out a breath she’d been holding. “Are you sure?” she asked, needing confirmation. “The acceptance letter is on my desk. Mrs. Gable probably saw it when she was cleaning.” Mom turned to the housekeeper standing nearby. Mrs. Gable nodded. The tension in my mother’s face melted away, her tone softening. “Well, 650 isn’t as good as your sister’s score, but it’s respectable. Westwood is a good school, just a bit far from home.” She added, “But with travel being so convenient these days, you can come back anytime.” I murmured in agreement, and she finally smiled. “Let’s eat before everything gets cold.” As I reached for a sausage, Felicity’s fork shot out and snatched it, dropping it on the floor for her Doberman. “I could never bear to be so far from home,” she chirped. “When I graduate next year, I’m going to the same university as Charlotte.” Charlotte smiled. “Perfect. You can take over as president of the student council when I leave.” The conversation shifted back to them. Only then did I realize a cold sweat had broken out on my back. If I hadn’t figured out early on that my mother despised me being more successful than her other daughters—if I hadn’t intentionally tanked my scores on the exams—I would be the one facing that god-awful blind date right now. The Fords’ son was a notorious local playboy who openly bragged about wanting a harem of wives and mistresses. No family with any self-respect would marry their daughter to him. Yet my mother was ready to throw me to the wolves. A metallic taste filled my throat. I washed it down with a sip of oatmeal. Leo placed a sausage in my bowl. “I’ll drive you to campus when the semester starts.” “Okay. Thanks, brother.” Charlotte smiled. “Any plans today, Nina? Want to come to the spa with us?” I rubbed my hands together, feigning bashfulness. “Oh, I’d love to, but I already made plans with Ethan. I can’t just bail on him.” Charlotte’s eyebrows rose, a knowing smile playing on her lips. “Oh. Well, have fun.” Leo glanced at me, his brow furrowed as if he wanted to say something, but he held his tongue. 6 Ethan and I were both avid cyclists. We took a long ride along the coastal path, the salty wind whipping through our hair, before stopping for a break under a grove of palm trees. “Here,” Ethan said, handing me a milk tea. It was Jasmine Pearl, my favorite. The irony wasn’t lost on me. My own family had no idea what I liked, but my neighbor knew my order by heart. “Thanks.” I took a sip, my gaze drifting out towards the vast, shimmering ocean. He followed my line of sight. “You love the ocean, don’t you?” “Yeah. I grew up by the sea. The town was nothing like this place, not nearly as glamorous, but I loved it.” Because the people who truly loved me were there. Mr. and Mrs. Miller. And their son, my brother, Jason. Ethan smiled, but then his expression turned serious. “Nina, there’s something I don’t think I should hide from you.” He pulled out his phone and opened a group chat named “The Garden (No Ninas Allowed).” “Yesterday, right before Charlotte added you to the main chat, she created this new one. You should see it for yourself.” He helpfully scrolled back to yesterday’s messages. 【Felicity: New chat! We’ll talk here from now on.】 【Charlotte: Got it.】 【Dad: Thumbs up】 【Mom: Thumbs up】 【Leo: …】 【Charlotte: We should probably still say something in the other group chat occasionally, so she doesn’t get suspicious.】 【Felicity: Easy. Mom can just forward a bunch of those inspirational videos. It’s not like Nina’s gonna watch them and then @ us for a discussion.】 【Mom: No, what if she actually replies? I won’t know what to say.】 【Felicity: @Dad, you should forward a bunch of those dense financial articles. She won’t understand a word.】 【Dad: Unnecessary. Her performance today was satisfactory. She’s clearly trying to get on my good side. The carrot has been offered; engaging further will only make her bolder.】 【Leo: Fine, fine. I’ll post something. Happy?】 【Charlotte: Thanks, big bro.】 【Felicity: Thanks, big bro.】 … I handed the phone back before I finished reading. “So,” I asked, my voice dangerously calm, “what are you trying to achieve by showing me this?” Ethan faltered for a second. “I just… I don’t think they should be deceiving you like this. Or mocking you. You’re a Vance, too. You deserve the same love they get.” I squeezed the plastic cup in my hand and let out a soft laugh. “Ethan, if you knew this would hurt me, why didn’t you just keep it to yourself?” “It wouldn’t have mattered if you never told me.” “So why did you have to?” I turned to face the handsome, bewildered boy beside me. “It’s just like before my college entrance exams. My brother, Jason, got into a car accident and injured his eyes. He didn’t tell me because he didn’t want it to affect my tests.” “But you,” I said, my smile never wavering, “you just happened to drag me to the hospital for a check-up the day before my exams. And we just happened to run into Mr. and Mrs. Miller there.” “You wanted me to be in pain, to be terrified. But why? Aren’t you my friend?” Ethan’s expression grew complicated. “Nina…” “Haha!” I suddenly burst out laughing. “Why the long face? I’m just kidding! Did you actually believe me? You’re my only friend. I would never suspect you. Right?” He looked lost, his mouth slightly agape, before finally managing a strained, gentle smile. “Right. I’m your only friend.” 7 Ethan had no idea. There was a time I truly had feelings for him. The day after I first moved in with the Vances, I had to register at Northwood Academy. My mother told me to ride with them. But when we got to the car, Felicity refused to let me in. “No way! She smells like fish from that disgusting town. Shadow hates the smell of fish.” She let her Doberman sprawl across the back seat, leaving no room. “Besides, the car’s full.” Charlotte was in the passenger seat, and my mother sat next to Felicity. None of them said a word as I stood there, humiliated. That’s when Ethan appeared. He offered me a ride in his family’s car. He even tried to comfort me. “Someone else’s love is a bonus,” he’d said. “But if you don’t have it, it’s not the end of the world. Loving yourself is what matters most.” I wrote that sentence on the first page of my diary. After that, he insisted on driving me to and from school. I felt bad always relying on him, so I bought a bicycle. The next day, he showed up with one too, becoming my cycling partner. He listened to my problems, offered advice, and even stood up to the bullies who targeted me. He took me hiking and to the beach, telling me to follow my heart wherever my eyes led me. I felt so lucky to have met someone so wonderful during the loneliest time of my life. I was a complete fool. It all unraveled during winter break of my freshman year. My grades were so high that my teachers praised me as a “gifted student.” I thought my parents would be proud. But my father didn’t care about my grades at all. And my mother, when she found out, her face soured. “Oh,” she’d said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “I see your precious Mr. Miller taught you well.” Without another word, she had me transferred to Westwood High, a school with a much poorer reputation. That’s when I understood. I could not be better than my sisters. My only path to a peaceful existence in that house was mediocrity. So I started controlling my scores. I couldn’t do better than Charlotte or Felicity, but I couldn’t do too poorly either, or I’d embarrass the family. It was an exhausting, soul-crushing balancing act. One day, I couldn’t take it anymore. I decided to tell Ethan my secret. I called him, but he said he was busy. I figured I’d wait. I wandered aimlessly through the neighborhood and ended up near a small park, where I heard his voice, and Charlotte’s. “Nina’s grades have dropped a lot this semester,” Charlotte was saying. “I have a feeling she’s doing it on purpose. Has she told you anything?” “No,” Ethan replied. “It seems normal to me. Westwood doesn’t have the same resources as Northwood.” “I’m still not convinced. Keep an eye on her for me. Make sure she doesn’t have too much time to study. If you have to, arrange for some people to cause a little trouble for her.” “Okay. I understand.” “And one more thing. If you dare to actually fall for her, I’ll make sure you never see me again.” “Charlotte, even if you don’t trust me, you should trust yourself. Nina… she’s not a thousandth of what you are.” I hid behind a tree, watching them embrace, then kiss. The blue sky, the golden sunset, the beautiful couple. A perfect picture. But in my eyes, the show was over. The sun was dying.

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Five years of marriage, undone by a fleck of paint. On the eve of our fifth anniversary, I took the portrait Isabella had painted of me to a conservator’s studio for routine maintenance. The specialist, a woman with eyes that missed nothing, was effusive in her praise. “She’s captured you perfectly,” she said, her voice echoing in the sterile white room. “Your wife has a tremendous gift.” Then, her practiced eye caught it. A tiny, almost imperceptible chip of crimson pigment flaking away at the canvas’s edge. She leaned closer, her breath misting the varnish. “Wait,” she murmured, more to herself than to me. “There’s a ghost under this canvas. Another painting.” With my permission, she subjected the piece to a specialized imaging process. What emerged from beneath my own staid, formal portrait was a revelation—an incandescent depiction of a reclining man, beautiful and raw. The studio fell silent. Even to my untrained eye, the power of the hidden piece was undeniable. It wasn’t just a painting; it was an act of worship. Every brushstroke hummed with a fierce, frantic passion, the kind of creative ecstasy an artist finds only once or twice in a lifetime. A shame, then, that this naked, saint-like figure was not me. I snapped a photo and sent it to Isabella. Who is he?! 1 “Come home, Alex. I’ll explain everything.” Her text was a cold stone in my gut. I drove back in a daze, the city lights blurring into meaningless streaks. In our bedroom, I sat on the edge of the bed we shared, my eyes fixed on the stark white rectangle on the wall where the painting had hung. Five years. For five years, the naked form of another man had watched over us in our most intimate space. And Isabella had put him there. The front door opened and closed, followed by the hurried click of her heels on the hardwood floor. She appeared in the doorway, her usual composure slightly frayed. “Alex,” she began, her voice tight. “I should have told you sooner.” She walked toward me, her hands clasped. “It’s a common practice for art students, recycling canvases to save money. That was just a practice piece from my academy days. It was thoughtless of me. I’m so sorry.” Did all art students paint their fiancés over their naked lovers? The question burned on my tongue, but I swallowed it. Seeing the storm still in my eyes, she knelt before me, her movements fluid and practiced. She cupped my face in her hands, her touch cool, and pressed a soft kiss to my forehead. “Don’t let your imagination run away with you,” she whispered, her voice a soothing balm I suddenly found toxic. “What we have now… it’s for the best.” Her gaze was so sincere, so convincing. I almost believed her. I didn’t want to tear our life apart over a ghost on a canvas, so I said nothing. But the next day, the unease was a physical sickness. Our marriage had been a merger, a union of the Sterling and Grant families. I knew the broad strokes of her past: a brilliant painter who’d traded her brushes for boardrooms to take over Sterling Corp. After our wedding, she had been a devoted, loving wife. I had never felt the need to dig deeper. Until now. That painting wasn’t a student’s exercise; it was a confession. I forwarded the photo to a friend from my college days, now a curator who’d attended the same art academy. The reply came back almost instantly. “Yeah, I remember him. A life model named Julian Vance.” A breath I didn’t realize I was holding escaped me. Just a model. But then, a second text arrived. “Look, since you’re asking… he was also her boyfriend back then.” The world went white. Isabella. My wife. Had hung a naked portrait of her ex-boyfriend in our bedroom for five years. I couldn’t hear the sound of my own ragged breathing. I mechanically ended the call, my fingers trembling as I texted her. 【Come home. We need to talk.】 When I arrived, the housekeeper handed me a courier box. “It was addressed with the madam’s phone number, so I signed for it,” she explained. “But the name on the label is strange. It says, ‘Belle.’” Belle. Her artist name from the academy. A name I’d never heard her use. A secret self. They were still in contact. I held my breath and opened Pandora’s box. Inside, nestled in black tissue paper, was a whisper of lace and silk—lingerie so outrageously provocative it felt like a scream in my hands. I pictured Isabella, my elegant, poised wife… and a surge of rage so profound it left me dizzy. 2 My fingers flew across my phone’s keyboard, searching for a private investigator. I needed to know everything. “You want me to tail Mrs. Sterling-Grant?” The P.I. on the other end of the line let out a low whistle. “Son, the Stirlings are untouchable.” He paused. “But the Grants aren’t small fry either. I’ll give you an address, on the house. Consider it a professional courtesy.” He knew. Even this stranger knew. My first instinct was to throw the lingerie in her face. But I knew her. She would have a thousand perfectly plausible, cuttingly rational explanations. I had to see for myself. I had just disposed of the box when she walked in, her face a mask of concern. “Alex, what is it? You look pale.” I turned my back, busying myself at the wet bar so she couldn’t see the fury in my eyes. “It’s handled.” She visibly relaxed. “The housekeeper mentioned a strange package?” My grip on the crystal tumbler tightened. “Addressed to a ‘Belle.’ Never heard of her. Must have been a mistake. I threw it out.” A flicker of panic crossed her face before she smoothed it away with a practiced smile. “That’s fine.” That night, she slid into bed and wrapped her arms around me from behind, her fingers tracing patterns on my skin. Her breathing grew shallow, urgent. But my eyes were fixed on that blank space on the wall, my mind flashing with images: the painted saint, the life model, the black lace. “I’m tired,” I said, my voice flat. She froze. The warmth of her body receded as she pulled her hand away and rolled onto her side, her back a rigid wall between us. After a long silence, she spoke to the darkness. “I have a business trip tomorrow. I’ll be gone for a week.” “Okay.” The next day, I drove to the address. It was a cobblestone alley in a gentrifying part of the city. I asked an elderly woman tending to her window box for directions. She scowled. “Oh, them,” she said, her voice thick with disapproval. “That artist pair. Have that little gallery, but they never sell a thing. Always all over each other, kissing and cuddling right on the street before they disappear into the back. Shameless.” My feet felt like lead as I walked deeper into the alley. And then I saw her. Isabella. Sitting under a willow tree, a paintbrush tucked behind her ear. Her hair was down, unbound from its usual perfect chignon. She wore a loose, paint-splattered men’s shirt, the top two buttons undone. This wasn’t Isabella, the CEO. This was Belle, the artist. As I watched, frozen, a man emerged from the shop. 3 I recognized him instantly. Julian Vance. He wore a similar white shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, the muscles of his chest visible through the thin cotton. He leaned down and whispered something in her ear. I could see the blush spread across her cheeks even from a distance. She laughed, a sound I hadn’t heard in years, and threw herself into his arms. She was electric, alive, a stray dog finding its master. As she buried her face in his neck, the collar of his shirt slipped, revealing a tell-tale sliver of black lace. He swept her up into his arms and carried her inside. The world tilted on its axis. I don’t know how long I stood there, rooted to the spot. When my limbs finally obeyed me again, I found myself inside the gallery. The walls were a shrine to him. Julian, everywhere. She had painted an entire gallery for him. In every portrait, he was adored, immortalized. Compared to this, my own portrait felt like a soulless corporate headshot. A pathetic joke. I moved toward the back. It was a live-work space. The living area was littered with their life—Polaroids taped to the walls, each with a handwritten caption. “He called after his car accident, a broken leg. But the night-blooming cereus was about to open. A once-a-year miracle. She missed his call.” “Our anniversary. She said she hates performing love. She ran away to me.” Before the tears could fall, I heard it. From the bedroom. The rhythmic, guttural sounds of passion. So this was her arrangement. The poised CEO by day, the debauched artist by night. I leaned against the wall, my body weak, my heart a trapped bird beating against my ribs. Pain, then rage, then a bitter, corrosive sense of injustice. I wanted to storm in there, to rip him away from her, to scream why? But what then? In a pause between their cries, I heard their voices. “Alex found the portrait,” Julian said. “Oh? He must hate me now,” she replied, her voice breathy. “I made something up. He’ll probably buy it. Even if he doesn’t, he’ll turn a blind eye. That’s our relationship. It’s a business deal. Honestly, sending him that painting was a childish act of spite… but when he found out, I can’t deny there was a little thrill of revenge.” She was wrong. I did love her. I did care. And you can’t turn a blind eye when a knife is being twisted in your heart. In that moment, whatever love I had for her died in that hallway. Julian sighed. “If it weren’t for me, maybe you could have accepted him. You wouldn’t be in so much pain.” “He’s a good man, Julian,” she murmured. “But I need… a release valve.” A good man. I laughed silently, bitterly. You cowardly, greedy woman, Isabella. You didn’t have the courage to defy your mother, so you took your anger out on me. I left and drove straight to the private estate where her mother was convalescing. “Your daughter is having an affair,” I said, my voice devoid of emotion. “You forced her into this.” She didn’t pause in her pruning of a prize-winning rose bush. She didn’t seem surprised. “It’s not an affair, Alex. It’s an arrangement,” she said coolly. “It was her condition for agreeing to the merger. That man is tucked away in his little shop. He doesn’t affect you. When Isabella is under pressure, she needs an… outlet. He absorbs some of that for you.” She finally turned, her eyes like chips of ice. “The company is at a critical juncture. Do not distract her. Do not bother her with this. Our families rise and fall together. And as the adopted son of the Grant family, your primary duty is gratitude. Let this go. I won’t tell her you came to see me.” An adopted son. A fool to be played with. I clenched my fists, then forced a calm I didn’t feel. “I understand, Mrs. Sterling.” 4 The moment I left, I called my sister, Cate. “Can you come home?” “What, did the old man finally decide he wants me to inherit his crumbling empire?” she shot back. “Tell him I’m doing better on my own.” A pause. “Wait. Your voice… have you been crying?” Cate had been the family rebel, escaping to Europe as a teenager. She hadn’t even come home for my wedding. My father, in a fit of rage, had disowned her. To the world, Catherine Grant was a ghost. “I’m being played, Cate.” “I’m on the next flight,” she said, her voice turning to steel. “Tell me what you need.” A week later, Isabella returned, flushed and almost giddy. “I have someone for you to meet,” she announced. “Now, promise me you won’t get angry.” Before I could respond, Julian Vance strolled into our living room, a smug, knowing smile playing on his lips. The audacity. Before I could explode, Isabella guided me to the sofa and knelt before me. “I know what you must think because of the painting. But this is purely business. I brought him here to help us secure funding from Cygnus Ventures. His sister knows their mysterious majority shareholder.” It was all my plan, of course. The mysterious shareholder was Cate. I just hadn’t anticipated this. “You’ve been in contact with him?” I asked, playing my part. Her excuse was ready. “A chance encounter on my trip. Cygnus is planning a major art exhibition, and they’re looking to invest in a promising firm. He told me all about it.” Julian stepped forward, oozing false sincerity. “Alex, for an artist, nudity is just form and shadow. When I posed for her, it was no different than a plaster cast. Please don’t let that old painting jeopardize Isabella’s work.” A plaster cast. I thought of the sounds from the back room of his shop. Isabella squeezed my hand, her face a mask of corporate focus. “There’s one more thing. I need him to stay here. In the guest room. This project is too sensitive. I can’t risk any leaks.” Her gaze was as sincere as ever. You must be exhausted, Isabella, after all these years of acting. “Of course,” I said, forcing a smile. “The business comes first.” They exchanged a look of triumphant relief. I swallowed the bitterness. In the days that followed, I became a ghost in my own home. A shared glance over the dinner table, a brush of fingers in the hallway… I saw it all. You must be finding this difficult, holding back, Isabella. Don’t worry. I’m about to give you everything you want. 5 I told her I had to stay overnight in the city for a client dinner. From my car, I pulled up the feed from the camera I’d installed in our bedroom. Isabella was lying in bed alone. After a few minutes, the door opened. It was Julian. He wrapped his arms around her, and she responded passionately. Then, as if remembering something, she went rigid and gently pushed him away. “Not tonight,” she whispered. “It’s my anniversary with Alex.” Julian pulled her back. “And what about him?” Isabella hesitated, her voice suddenly small and lost. “I… I don’t know.” A month later, the night of the exhibition arrived. Cygnus Ventures’ mysterious shareholder was set to announce which firm would receive their massive capital injection. In the preceding weeks, Isabella had gone on a ruthless acquisition spree. The media, fed a steady stream of leaks, was certain that with Julian’s connection, Sterling Corp was a lock. Even her mother had come out of retirement for the event. “This is how it should be,” she’d told me earlier. “Composed. Understanding the bigger picture.” All I saw was a woman gambling her family’s legacy to give her lover legitimacy. The gallery was buzzing. Isabella and Julian were the center of attention, accepting premature congratulations. No one seemed to remember the quiet husband nursing a scotch in the corner. “With Mr. Vance at your side, you’re unstoppable, Isabella!” “I remember at the academy, she only had eyes for him. A love story for the ages!” Julian just smiled and nodded, basking in the unearned glory. Feigning drunkenness, I stumbled toward them, spilling my drink all over his pristine shirt. Isabella’s face hardened. She grabbed my wrist. “Alex, stop it. This is just business.” You’re the one who thought this farce was real. I snatched the champagne flute from her other hand and was about to down it when strong arms encircled me, taking the glass away. I finally let myself break. The tears streamed down my face. “What took you so long?” I choked out.

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Everyone said Caleb Hayes was crazy about me. For years, we were the kind of love story that burns down buildings. He was the proudest man I knew, and I was the only one who ever saw him laugh until he cried, the only one for whom he would have broken every bone in his body. But in our seventh year, he met her. The one he said he was “truly meant for.” One spectacular fight, and we were over. Five years later, on the third day after his return to the States, he smashed my food truck to pieces in a public square, all to defend his new girl’s honor. I wasn’t feeling particularly charitable. I slapped her three times, hard enough to leave a mark. We both ended up at the precinct. I refused to reconcile. They locked me up. He posted bail that same day, paid her fine, and walked out with his arm around her. Three days later, an officer told me they needed to call a family member to come get me. “Don’t have any,” I said, my voice flat. “They’re all dead.” As if on cue, Caleb showed up with a crowd of his friends, all of them ready to enjoy the show. I grabbed the nearest heavy object—a fire extinguisher—and swung. That little stunt bought me a few more days in a cell. Later, a female cop looked at me, genuinely confused. “What’s with the temper?” I just stared back in silence. There was no point in explaining. When you’re already dying, you stop giving a damn about being polite. Besides, his brother was the one who killed my father. Another swing of that fire extinguisher would have been getting off easy. 1 It was three in the morning. The last of the late-night crowd had drifted away from the food truck, and I was shutting down the grill. A girl with bleached-blonde hair appeared out of the darkness, leaning over the counter to look at the menu. Trailing behind her was Leo, Caleb’s best friend. His eyes met mine, and he froze. “Jenna, maybe we should try somewhere else?” Leo whispered, his voice tight. Jenna just shook her head, her smile relentlessly cheerful. “At three a.m.? Where else are we going to go? Besides,” she said, her gaze flicking to me, “this place looks… authentic. And clean!” She finally looked me in the eye. “We’ll take one of everything. And go easy on the spice—my boyfriend can’t handle too much heat.” I mumbled an okay from behind my mask, my hand trembling slightly as I stoked the coals. It wasn’t fear. It wasn’t nerves. It was the body’s primal reaction to seeing a predator. “Leo, can you grab me a soda?” she chirped. “Caleb will be here any minute. We should have something to toast with, a little celebration for being back home.” Leo’s face was a stone mask. He didn’t answer. He knew perfectly well that as long as I was standing here, Caleb wouldn’t be celebrating anything. Jenna didn’t seem to notice. She unlocked her phone, the screen lighting up with a photo of two clasped hands. Caleb’s left hand was unmistakable. The missing half of his pinky finger was a stark, white scar against her skin. I was the one who did that, years ago, with a knife. Of course, he’d paid me back in full. The thin, silvery scar above my eyebrow was a permanent reminder of his shove, of my head meeting the corner of a marble coffee table. As if worried I might not be paying enough attention, Jenna switched her phone to speaker, her voice sickly sweet as she left a message. “Caleb, we’re at this little barbecue truck waiting for you! Hurry up, baby. I just sent you the location.” Five years, and she hadn’t developed a single new trick. Pathetic, that she thought this little performance would get under my skin. I sprinkled chili flakes over a skewer of lamb. My hand twitched. A little extra fell on. Might as well add some more. “Caleb! Over here!” Jenna suddenly shot to her feet, waving wildly at a figure emerging from the distant shadows. She ran to him, throwing her arms around his neck. Through the haze of grill smoke, Caleb’s eyes found mine. For a split second, he looked stunned. Jenna felt him stiffen and started to turn, but he caught her chin, tilting her head up and crushing his mouth to hers in a brutal, performative kiss. I looked away, squeezing another line of hot sauce onto a row of corn. The smoke billowed, thick and acrid, stinging my eyes. Leo shuffled up to the counter, his mouth opening and closing a few times before he finally managed to speak. “Sadie… please,” he stammered. “Don’t make this harder. They’ve been through so much to get here. It wasn’t easy, I…” His words were lost in a fit of coughing as the smoke washed over him. I ignored him, focusing on the fire. The heat was choking me, but it was a familiar burn. It kept me sharp. Just then, a voice I hadn’t heard in five years cut through the night. A voice I still heard in my nightmares. “Leave it on the grill longer,” Caleb said, not looking at me. “My girlfriend likes her food tender.” 2 Leo held his breath, watching me. I simply plated the skewers and set them on the counter. “Enjoy.” Jenna rested her chin in her hands, her eyes sparkling as she looked at Caleb. “Try it, baby. Does it taste like you remember?” Suddenly, the metal stool next to their table was yanked back. Two beefy guys, shirtless and draped in gold chains, sat down heavily. “Hey! Get us some ribs,” one of them barked. They cracked open a case of beer they’d brought with them and started chugging, tossing a handful of crumpled bills onto my counter. “Extra spicy,” the other one slurred. “If it ain’t got a kick, we ain’t paying.” A few minutes and several beers later, they were wasted, catcalling me from their table. “Hey, beautiful! How about some extra sausage? A guy’s gotta keep his strength up for later, you know?” While their table grew louder, Caleb’s was unnervingly silent. Leo tried to get up and leave several times, but Caleb held him in place with a look. His eyes followed my every move, a detached curiosity in his gaze. He was probably wondering what sequence of failures had led me from a penthouse apartment to a grimy food truck on a Tuesday night. I didn’t care. A customer was a customer. And God, I needed the money. One of the drunks told a filthy joke, and his table roared with laughter. Jenna, however, was not amused. She could have just left. Instead, she stood up, walked over, and poured her entire beer over the bald head of the guy with the neck tattoo. The sound of the plastic cup hitting his skull was a dull thud. Beer and foam dripped down his face. He exploded, slamming the table and lunging to his feet. Caleb instantly jumped up, pulling Jenna behind him. He yanked his wallet out, throwing a thick wad of cash onto their table. “That’s for the trouble. Now go find somewhere else to drink.” I let out a cold laugh. If they left, my money left with them. In a flash, I snatched the cash from the table. Then I grabbed a half-full bottle of water and dumped it squarely over Jenna’s head. “Ah! You… you bitch!” she shrieked. Maybe that trip abroad had damaged her memory. She should have known better than to call me that. I fisted the money in one hand and grabbed the front of her designer blouse with the other, stuffing the wet bills down her shirt. For good measure, I slapped her. Hard. “Keep that mouth of yours clean,” I said, my voice dangerously low. “Or I’ll be happy to sew it shut for you.” The world went silent, the only sound the crackle of the embers on the grill. “Sadie, are you insane…” Caleb started. I spun around and slapped him, too. He touched his lip, a slow, cruel smile spreading across his face. “You can hit me. But hitting my fiancée? That’s crossing a line. Jenna, baby, what do you say? How should we make her pay?” Jenna clutched her cheek, fat tears welling in her eyes. Caleb’s gaze swept over my small setup. “This is a nice little truck you’ve got here. How about we smash it up for you, Jenna? Would that make you feel better?” Before I could react, he went berserk, grabbing racks of food and hurling them to the ground, kicking over tables and chairs, sending my entire livelihood crashing onto the greasy pavement. The two drunks stared, mouths agape, looking from me to the enraged man demolishing my life. They scrambled away into the night. I stared at the wreckage. Something inside me finally snapped. I launched myself at Jenna, grabbing a fistful of her bleached hair and pulling. It took both Caleb and Leo to drag me off her. In the end, all four of us ended up at the precinct. As the cops put me in the car, I looked at the ruin of my truck. That was at least a thousand dollars in damages. Enough to cover a week of my chemo. This was literally killing me.

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The merman I’d raised from a pup betrayed me for a scholarship student. As punishment, I had 99 of his scales torn from his tail. The live comments exploded. They were all cursing me out. 【His tail is so beautiful! How could that evil bitch do that to him?】 【I can’t take it anymore! Run away, Caspian! Go find our sweet, kind-hearted Lily!】 A small, humorless laugh escaped my lips. I had the merman packaged up and delivered directly to the scholarship student’s doorstep. Then I got myself a handsome lop-eared rabbit boy. Two months later, my doorbell rang. It was the merman, awkwardly mumbling something about how he missed me. But from inside my room, the wet, sticky sound of a deep kiss could be heard, followed by a boy’s breathless whisper. “Mistress… is my kissing not good enough? Why are you distracted?” “Hush, darling. Pay him no mind.” 1 Two workers hoisted the tank containing Caspian onto the back of a truck. The old driver stood beside me, wringing his hands. “Miss… are you sure about this? Maybe you should reconsider.” My face was a mask of stone. “Do you reconsider when you take out the trash?” “That’s not what I meant. It’s just… that place is so poor and run-down. They’re lucky if they have running water, let alone a proper filtration system. Mermen are incredibly delicate. Will he even survive out there?” I stared at the familiar blue tank. I had decorated it myself, painstakingly applying each of the tiny, crushed diamonds that glittered on its surface. I could still remember the blisters on my fingers, the sharp sting of the glue. The memory was now just a bitter irony. Caspian was my bonded beastkin, my familiar. He had sworn an oath of eternal loyalty to me. But yesterday, when the school auditorium caught fire, he had shoved me aside without a second thought, scooping up that scholarship student and carrying her to safety. In the chaos, I had fallen. A nail had pierced my calf, and blood had gushed from the wound. In that moment, the chill in my heart was far more painful than the injury. Caspian knew he had done wrong. He had knelt before me that night, his head bowed. He admitted his guilt, but not his error. I had laughed, a raw, ugly sound from my wheelchair. I ordered my guards to pluck the scales from his tail. The iridescent, jewel-like scales, stained with his blood, fell one by one to the floor. His face was pale, his lips bloodless. But he kept repeating the same words, over and over. “If I had to do it again, I would still choose to save her.” “She’s not like you. She doesn’t have a powerful family, but she’s gentle and kind. She’s like a ray of sunshine in my life.” I gave a sarcastic twist of my lips. “So, you’re saying I’m a cruel, manipulative bitch. Is that it?” Caspian looked away. His silence was his answer. The night wind was cold. It made my fingers tremble. I am the eldest daughter of the main branch of the family. Everyone with a claim to the inheritance is watching me, waiting for me to fail. They would kill me if they could. There was a time when I was so paranoid, I even had cameras installed inside my refrigerator. If I hadn’t learned to be cunning, to play their games, I would never have survived. All these years, I had raised Caspian, given him the best of everything. And this was the thanks I got. I closed my eyes. The last flicker of sadness in my heart died out. “Fine,” I said. “I’m done with you, Caspian. Since you’re so fond of that scholarship student, go to her.” The truck’s engine roared to life. The sound seemed to jolt Caspian from his stupor. He struggled to sit up, his eyes finding mine. The driver, a kind old man, took pity on him. “You still have a chance, son. Just apologize to the young miss!” A faint, mocking smile touched Caspian’s pale lips. “I was wrong,” he said, his voice barely a whisper, yet filled with a proud, cutting sarcasm. “My only mistake was choosing such a selfish mistress.” 2 The moment Caspian was gone, I gave the order. I wanted a new bonded beastkin. I was rich, I was beautiful. Why should I waste my time grieving over a single beastkin? He wasn’t worth it. I was just about to head to the beastkin auction when I received a tip from a journalist I knew. My father’s illegitimate son, my dear half-brother, was in trouble. My heart soared. I immediately changed course. The scene in front of the filthy, dilapidated warehouse was pure chaos. It turned out my brother had been exposed for using beastkin in illegal drug trials. A group of pitiful, scarred creatures were being rescued. Without a second thought, I rolled up my sleeves and joined the volunteers. The reporters, seeing me, immediately turned their cameras in my direction. “Look, it’s the eldest daughter of the Morris family! So compassionate!” “And look at her brother… what a monster.” My brother’s glare could have set me on fire. I ducked my head to hide my triumphant smirk. Just then, a pale, slender hand reached out from a rusty cage and tugged on my sleeve. I froze and looked down. I was met by a pair of slate-gray eyes. Two long, floppy rabbit ears drooped in fear. The boy looked up at me, his voice a soft whisper. “Will… will you save me?” Lop-eared rabbits were notoriously timid. I crouched down, my voice gentle. “Yes. I will.” At my words, a shy smile lit up his face. The next moment, his eyes fluttered shut and he collapsed. It was only then that I noticed the dense cluster of needle marks on his neck. 3 Of all the beastkin rescued that day, the lop-eared rabbit was the most severely injured. Rabbits were ideal test subjects, and my dear brother had injected him with countless experimental drugs. The cost of his treatment would be far beyond what the volunteer organization could afford. Without hesitation, I announced that I would cover all his expenses. “Miss, the auction catalog has arrived,” my bodyguard said, opening the brochure. “Tonight’s main event is a fierce lion beastkin. There’s also a keen-witted wolf and a powerful bear that are highly rated…” “That won’t be necessary,” I interrupted. “Miss?” he asked, surprised. “The lop-eared rabbit we rescued today. He’ll do.” I looked towards the intensive care unit, my voice surprisingly calm. “The Morris heiress’s bonded beastkin is a creature she personally rescued. Think of the publicity. I’ll take him to the charity gala this year.” The bodyguard stared at me for a moment, then bowed his head. “Yes, Miss.” Inside the ICU, the lop-eared rabbit boy, as if sensing my gaze, suddenly looked up towards the glass window. The moment he saw me, his little rabbit ears shot up in excitement, then quickly drooped back down in a show of demureness. He gave me a shy, tentative wave. 4 I didn’t return his enthusiastic smile. I simply instructed the nurse to use the best medicine available and left. I had taken him in for the sake of my reputation. As long as he was by my side, everyone would be reminded of my brother’s atrocities. I had no illusions about him protecting me. Lop-eared rabbits were too timid. They could barely protect themselves, let alone anyone else. Because of my leg injury, I was confined to a wheelchair. In my spare time, I began physical therapy. The pain was excruciating, but I gritted my teeth and pushed through. I had a bright future ahead of me. I refused to be an invalid. Days turned into weeks, and I gradually forgot about the rabbit. One day, returning from the hospital, the door to my car slid open. Instead of my bodyguard, a pair of slender hands reached in and gently lifted me out. The sudden feeling of weightlessness startled me, and I instinctively wrapped my arms around his neck. I was met with the pleasant, unfamiliar scent of fresh grass. I looked up, confused, and saw a familiar face. At my stare, the two soft rabbit ears peeking out from his hair twitched, the tips turning a shy shade of pink. He carried me into the living room, gently placing me back in my wheelchair. He then knelt before me, adjusting the footrests. I looked down at him, my voice cool. “What are you doing here?” “The doctor said I’m all better. I’ve been discharged,” he said, looking up at me, his voice bright and eager. “I’m your beastkin. Of course, I’m here to take care of you. To protect you.” I was silent for a moment, trying to recall his name. Leo, I think. Leo Starr. A fitting name, for someone who was clearly a daydreamer. I shook my head. “My life is dangerous. I need a powerful beastkin to protect me. You’re just a rabbit. You’re not strong enough. All you need to do is be my arm candy at the gala. A pretty face.” “No!” he interrupted, his gray eyes wide. “I am strong! I know your last beastkin was a powerful merman, but trust me, I’m no less than him!” The mention of Caspian made my expression harden. I had no patience for this. I steered my wheelchair towards the elevator. Just before the doors closed, I tossed a careless challenge over my shoulder. “Then prove it.” 5 The next day at school, I ran into the scholarship student and the merman who had betrayed me. Lily was wearing a faded school uniform, a white jasmine clip in her hair. She was smiling up at Caspian as he walked beside her, silently carrying her pink teddy bear backpack. The look on his face was one of gentle affection. Until he saw me. The warmth in his eyes vanished, replaced by a glacial coldness. I sighed. How sad. He wasn’t dead yet. “Um… Jade Morris.” Lily’s voice, though soft, carried across the crowded school entrance. “Thank you… for letting Caspian go.” She peeked out from behind him, clutching his sleeve, and gave me a timid smile. Instantly, all eyes were on me. The live comments went wild. 【Our heroine is so brave! Talking to the evil bitch directly! This is the strong female lead content I signed up for!】 【Aww, the male lead looks so surprised! He probably didn’t expect our sweet Lily to stand up for him like that.】 【Daily prayer for the evil bitch to just die already.】 【Am I the only one who thinks that sounded a little passive-aggressive? Can I even say that?】 The comments scrolled past in a blur. The students around me whispered and giggled, their eyes darting towards me in my wheelchair. It was a humiliating situation. But I remained unfazed. I looked up at Lily and said, my voice clear and confident, “I was just throwing out the trash. If you want to pick it up, be my guest.” I turned to leave, but Lily rushed forward, blocking my path. “Jade, you’re angry, aren’t you?” “I just wanted to tell you, Caspian is so much happier now that he’s away from you. He smiles so much more.” She gave me a self-deprecating little laugh. “I’m just a simple person, I speak my mind. Don’t take it personally…” The saccharine sweetness was nauseating. I frowned and tried to push past her. Lily stumbled backward, landing perfectly in Caspian’s arms. He held her close, his eyes glaring at me with suspicion. “Jade, if you have a problem, take it up with me. Don’t you dare hurt Lily.” I was speechless. “Caspian, you really need to lay off the bad romance novels. Has Lily not been aerating your tank properly? Is your brain oxygen-deprived? In what universe did I just bully her?” “Jade, why do you always have to be so aggressive?” Caspian scowled. But then his gaze fell on my legs, uselessly curled in the wheelchair, and his voice softened. “That day… I ran to save Lily because the beam above her was about to fall. I couldn’t just watch her get hurt.” He lowered his voice. “I… I haven’t broken our bond. I… I’ve missed you.” I bit my lip. A flicker of something stirred in my chest. We had grown up together, after all. I opened my mouth to speak, but before I could, the roar of an engine cut through the air. A man in black on a motorcycle was speeding towards me, a dagger glinting in his hand. In my stunned silence, I heard Caspian’s frantic shout. “Mistress! Move!” Move? I almost laughed. I was in a wheelchair. How was I supposed to move? The dagger was inches from my face. The next second, a figure blurred in front of me. A swift, powerful kick. Bang! The heavy motorcycle crashed to the ground, its wheels still spinning. The assailant was thrown, his helmet scraping against the pavement with a shower of sparks. The man, now unmasked, scrambled backward on the ground, his eyes wide with terror. But there was no escape. The tall, broad-shouldered rabbit boy stalked towards him, bent down, and pressed the dagger to the man’s throat, drawing a single, crimson drop of blood. The boy’s eyes were cold, his expression grim. But his voice was soft, polite. “Sir. You shouldn’t have touched her.” I stared at Leo. I remembered his defiant words: “I am strong!” He hadn’t been lying. But I still felt a strange sense of being deceived. What had happened to my sweet, shy, easily flustered little rabbit? Why had he suddenly turned into Godzilla? 6 【On the surface, he’s a sweet, shy boy who blushes easily, but in reality, he’s a total badass with off-the-charts combat skills! Aww, why can’t a man like that be in love with our heroine?!】 【Sweet bunny, don’t help that evil psycho! Come to our Lily!】 【Um, isn’t the merman supposed to be the main love interest? Why is everyone going crazy over this rabbit?】 The comments were a chaotic mess. It was giving me a headache. The assailant was staring at Leo in terror, his hands raised in surrender. “Don’t… don’t kill me…” “You should have thought of the consequences when you decided to attack my mistress,” Leo said coolly. The man’s face went blank, then twisted in a snarl of frustration. “Impossible! I had everything planned! How was I supposed to know you’d show up out of nowhere? What’s your relationship with Jade Morris? I thought her beastkin was a merman! Since when is it a fucking rabbit?!” I couldn’t help but laugh. “It seems my brother’s intelligence is a bit outdated. I have a new bonded beastkin now.” Leo looked up at me, his eyes shining. He knew what those words meant. I had acknowledged him. He could finally, officially, be by my side. His ears perked up, and he puffed out his chest. If he had a tail, it would have been wagging like a helicopter blade. Well, the rabbit had turned into a puppy. I looked at him and sighed softly. Then I caught my reflection in a car window. My lips were curved into a small smile. I was… smiling at him? I quickly schooled my features back into a neutral expression. But I couldn’t stop replaying the moment he had rushed to protect me. My bodyguards finally arrived, surrounding me. “Our apologies, Miss. We were negligent. Please, let us escort you to safety.” Leo restrained the attacker, handing him over to my men. I prepared to leave. But a hand shot out and grabbed my sleeve. I looked up, annoyed. It was Caspian. The usually proud, aloof merman was now hunched over, his expression a mixture of shock and devastation. “You…” he stammered, his voice trembling. “How could you take a new beastkin? I haven’t broken our bond. I haven’t agreed to it…” I frowned, my voice as cold as ice. “I am your mistress. Since when do I need your permission to break our bond?” “But you promised! You promised I would be the only one!” “He’s a rabbit! He’s not as strong, or as fast, or as rare as I am…” Caspian’s eyes grew red, his voice dropping to a whisper. “You can’t choose him…” The live comments were in an uproar. 【What is happening? Why is the male lead begging the evil bitch? Is he jealous?】 【No way. After everything she did to him, he still has feelings for her?】 【Look at the heroine’s face… she looks so pitiful…】 Following the comments’ direction, I glanced at Lily. Yeah, no. I didn’t see pitiful. I saw a look so venomous, it could kill.

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The day I fitted the Obedience Earpiece into my daughter’s ear, I vowed she would live the most perfect life. She got into the university I chose and married the man I selected, all according to my plan. The day her own child was a month old, I removed her earpiece, my heart swelling with pride. “Now,” I said, “it’s your child’s turn.” She took it from my hand, her face a blank mask, but then her arm shot out and she pushed it into my own ear. Before I could even process what was happening, she spoke, each word a cold, hard stone. “Kill me.” And in the next instant, I snatched the fruit knife from the table and, without a second’s hesitation, plunged it straight into her heart. 1 It was the last day of summer break when I went to my daughter Amelia’s school for the middle school orientation. As soon as I walked into the classroom, I could hear the other parents buzzing about something called an “Obedience Earpiece.” “That thing is a miracle worker,” one woman gushed. “Our little terror of a dog used to chew up the whole house. Now? He hasn’t destroyed a thing. Last night he even fetched the remote for me.” “I heard the next version is for people,” another parent whispered. “Designed specifically for those wild kids you can’t control.” “Well, even if my little Jackson burned the house down, I’d never use one on him,” a third declared righteously. “All I want is for him to be happy and healthy. Who cares if he listens to every little thing I say?” I offered a polite smile and turned to look at Amelia, sitting silently beside me. The top button of her school uniform was fastened tight against her throat, and her hair was parted neatly down the middle and pulled into the low ponytail I required. For twelve years, she had been the perfect, obedient daughter. She’d never caused me a moment of worry. She would never need something like an earpiece. Just as I was thinking this, Amelia gave a soft tug on my sleeve. “Mom,” she began timidly, “Lily’s mom got her a Glimmerling for doing well on her exams. I did well too, so I was wondering if maybe…” “A what?” I snapped. She flinched, then pointed a trembling finger toward a grotesque, grinning doll perched on a desk in the front row. “That. It’s a limited edition, but… but I’d be happy with just a regular one.” I pulled out my phone and searched for the price. The cheapest one was thirty-five dollars. I shoved the screen in her face. “Do you see this?” She bit her lip, her fingers twisting the fabric of her uniform. I thought that was the end of it, but as the meeting concluded, this daughter of mine, who had never once defied me, actually clutched my arm. “Mom… please? Just this once?” A sudden, hot fury surged through me. I slammed my hands on the desk, sending it crashing over with a deafening clatter. I pointed a shaking finger at her and roared, “House Rule Number Seven! Recite it!” Like a soldier snapping to attention, she stood ramrod straight, her voice thick with tears. “House Rule Number Seven: No toy shall cost more than twenty dollars.” I grabbed her ear, twisting it hard, and hissed, “You know the rule perfectly well, so why are you pushing your luck?” The classroom fell silent. The parent from the front row approached, holding the ugly doll. “It’s what all the kids are into these days,” she said, trying to be helpful. “If she doesn’t have one, she might get left out.” “Since when is keeping up with the Joneses a good reason?” I scoffed. “She asks for a toy today. What’s next? Drugs? Should I give her those too?” I knelt to pick up the scattered books. As I did, a folded piece of pink construction paper fluttered out from between the pages. Scrawled on it were two words: I like you. A wave of teasing laughter rippled through the parents nearby. “Well, well! Looks like your daughter’s quite the popular one at school!” A roar filled my head. My hand flew up and I slapped her across the face. Amelia stumbled and fell, the cuff of her pants riding up to reveal a pair of bright pink socks. “What is House Rule Number One?!” I shrieked. “No… no dating,” she sobbed, her face a mess of tears and snot as another parent helped her up. “Mom, I swear I didn’t…” She looked at me with those big, pleading eyes. “I… I don’t know who wrote it. You have to believe me.” “Oh, I’m sure the note just grew legs and walked into your book all by itself! It’s not like you were encouraging anyone!” I grabbed her by the collar and started dragging her out of the classroom. “At your age, already acting like a little tramp. Just wait until we get home. I’ll beat this nonsense out of you!” 2 In the car, her crying was incessant. One sharp glare from me was all it took to reduce the loud sobs to choked, silent gasps. Back home, I threw her into her room and slammed the door. “I’m going to ask you one last time,” I said, my voice dangerously low. “Who was it?” Her eyes went wide, and she shook her head frantically. “No one, Mom, I promise, there’s no one…” “Such a violent reaction! You’re lying! So, you’ve learned to lie to me now, have you?” I stood up, snatched the scissors from my desk, and marched toward her. Before she could react, I grabbed her ponytail and hacked it off. Ignoring her struggles, I then bent down and ripped the pink socks right off her feet. That’s when she broke. A raw, guttural wail escaped her lips as she collapsed into a heap of apologies. “I’m sorry, Mom, I’m so sorry, I was wrong…” But it was too late. I didn’t believe a word she said. I tore open her closet and began pulling out every dress, every skirt, every last pink item she owned. I cut and ripped until a mountain of shredded fabric lay at my feet, and only then did the tight knot of rage in my chest finally loosen, just a little. “Clean this up before dinner,” I commanded, my voice cold and absolute. I towered over her, watching the light slowly die in her eyes. “From now on, your hair stays short. No more dresses. And no more pink.” A flicker of satisfaction ignited within me. I turned and went to the kitchen to start dinner. When the meal was ready, I opened her door to find her curled up in a tight ball under her covers. Clang. The ladle hit the floor. “Amelia Sullivan! You have three seconds to get out here and eat!” “Three!” My voice grew shriller with each count. “Two!” “One!” Silence. She didn’t move. I stormed over, ripped the covers off, and dragged her to the dining table. She just sat there, catatonic, as tears plopped one by one into her bowl. That simmering rage boiled over again. With a scream, I swept my arm across the table, sending plates and food crashing to the floor. “If you don’t want to eat, then you can go copy the House Rules one hundred times!” She flinched violently, the tears flowing faster now, but she didn’t make a sound. She simply turned and walked back to her room. Staring at the wreckage, a new wave of frustration washed over me. In twelve years, this was the first time she had ever defied me. But it didn’t matter. I had ways of dealing with this. I never imagined that the next day, she would start a hunger strike. 3 Her breakfast went cold, untouched. At lunch, she locked her door. By dinnertime, I had reached my limit. I grabbed a metal coat hanger and smashed the lock on her door, breaking it open. I found her just as she was, still curled up on the bed. I yanked her up by her hair. “Amelia! What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” I shook her, then slammed her head against the wall. Once, twice, three times. Her forehead was fine, but a trickle of crimson seeped from the corner of her mouth. She’d bitten through her own lip. My fury instantly evaporated, replaced by a surge of panic. I pried her mouth open to check the damage. It was just a cut, thank God. Tears streamed down my face as I pulled her into a hug, a belated wave of remorse washing over me. “Oh, my sweet Amelia, Mommy’s so sorry. I scared you, didn’t I?” I murmured, stroking her mangled hair. “Everything I do, I do for you. Do you have any idea how terrified I am that you’ll go down the wrong path?” “You’re my flesh and blood,” I whispered, rocking her gently. “I would never, ever hurt you.” I rambled on for what felt like an eternity, and eventually, she must have been moved by my words, because she gave my back a few soft pats. “I know, Mom,” she said, her voice hoarse. “But I’m really not dating anyone. Please… don’t be angry anymore, okay?” I pulled back, cupping her small face in my hands. “Okay, sweetie,” I said, my voice soft and gentle. “Mommy believes you.” And just like that, the rest of the summer passed in peace. But while I believed she wasn’t dating anyone now, the risk was always there as long as boys existed. To eliminate that risk at its source, I enrolled her in an all-girls boarding school. A month later, I drove to the school, bringing a thermos of her favorite beef stew to surprise her. I found her on the basketball court with a group of other girls. She was wearing a tank top and shorts, her exposed skin tanned a healthy golden-brown. I saw red. I sprinted across the field and hurled the thermos at her. It struck her on the head, and the hot stew splashed across her face. “Amelia Sullivan! Have you no shame?!” I shrieked, my voice echoing across the grounds. “A young lady playing basketball? Do you want to be a man?!” I spotted a high-pressure hose coiled on the lawn. Without thinking, I grabbed it, turned the nozzle on full blast, and aimed it directly at her. Her teammates tried to intervene, but one look from me sent them scattering. The force of the water blasted Amelia to her knees. She begged me to stop, but I felt no pity. I kept spraying until she was too weak to even plead anymore. Only then did I turn off the valve. “Go back to your dorm. Get cleaned up,” I commanded. Then I marched straight to the administration office and demanded she be transferred to a different class and a new dorm room. By the time I was finished, it was dark. Driving home, I couldn’t shake a lingering sense of unease. That’s when an ad popped up on my phone. [Obedience Earpiece 1.0 – Pet Use Only. Limited Time Offer.] I dialed the number immediately. The customer service representative began listing the disclaimers. “The current version has a nearly 100% command-override rate and is intended for domesticated pets only. Do not, under any circumstances, use on—” “Just ship it,” I interrupted, the image of Amelia on the basketball court flashing in my mind. “I need it now!” I hung up before he could say another word. That weekend, when Amelia came home from school, I greeted her with a warm smile and presented her with the earpiece. She touched it curiously, asking what it was. Once it was securely in her ear, I opened the app on my phone and typed in my first command: Drink the glass of bitter green juice on the table. Her eyes widened in horror, her fingers digging into the tabletop. For three long seconds, she fought it. Then, her expression went placid. She picked up the glass of bitter green juice—a drink she had always despised—and downed it without a single grimace. I stroked her head and smiled. This was my good girl. 4 The moment the glass was empty, she seemed to snap out of the trance, her hand trembling as it rose toward her ear. “Mom, what is this…?” “Don’t move!” I barked. She froze instantly, her arm suspended in mid-air as if someone had hit a pause button. I stepped closer, tilting her chin up so she was forced to look at me. “From now on,” I said, enunciating each word, “you will not remove this earpiece without my permission. Not for sleeping, not for showering. Not for anything. Understood?” A flicker of rebellion sparked in her eyes, but it was extinguished as quickly as it appeared. A stiff, unnatural smile stretched across her lips. “Yes, Mom.” That evening, my husband, Mark, returned from a business trip. I couldn’t wait to show him my success. I dragged Amelia in front of him. “Watch this. Show your father a trick.” Kneel down. Crawl in a circle three times. The dull thud of her knees hitting the tile floor sent a shiver of excitement through me. Suddenly, Mark exploded. He lunged forward and slapped the phone out of my hand. “What the hell are you doing? Is that a goddamn dog collar on our daughter?!” My good mood vanished. All this time, all the effort I’d poured into raising Amelia right, and he never once acknowledged it. All he ever did was criticize me. A thousand angry retorts died on my tongue, replaced by a single, cold sentence. “I’m doing what’s best for her. If you have a problem with it, we can get a divorce.” It was an empty threat, a bluff meant to make him back down and apologize. But instead, he smashed the glass he was holding against the wall. “Fine! Divorce it is!” he roared. “I’ve had enough of you and your twisted games!” Before I could even react, he had stormed out, slamming the door behind him. Hearing the commotion, Amelia asked, “Where did Dad go?” I grabbed a broom and started beating her across the back with the handle. “This is all your fault! If you weren’t so disobedient, I never would have had to do this! Your father wouldn’t have left me! It’s all your fault!” She didn’t cry out or try to dodge the blows. She just stood there, letting me vent my fury. When I was finally exhausted, she began to slap her own face, her voice a monotone chant. “It’s my fault… It’s all my fault… It’s my fault…” Seeing her so compliant, so understanding, soothed the raw edges of my anger. After the divorce, I got a job as an insurance agent. Every Sunday, before she left for school, Amelia would stand in the entryway and recite the House Rules. “Rule Number Nine: No fraternizing with members of the opposite sex.” … “Rule Number Twenty-One: Report daily itinerary in full.” … And before she walked out the door, I would always ask the same questions. “Have you memorized all the rules?” “Yes, I have.” “And what happens if you break a rule?” “All actions must comply with the House Rules. In the event of a violation, I will accept my punishment.” Only after receiving this perfect, programmed response would I allow her to leave for school. Under the earpiece’s watchful guidance, Amelia sailed through middle school and high school. On the day of her graduation, I dressed her in a high-necked, long-sleeved gown I had chosen. Three years ago, she’d rolled up her sleeves in gym class, and a boy had seen her forearms. I hadn’t let her show a single inch of her skin in public since. As I was fixing her hair, I noticed how much of it had fallen out lately. The stress of finals, I thought. I’ll make sure she eats better. She stepped onto the stage, a spotlight following her as she delivered the valedictorian speech. I watched, my eyes misting over, as her every movement, her every word, radiated flawless perfection. At the end of her speech, she paused for a moment, her gaze finding mine in the crowd. Her eyes were deep, unreadable pools. “The person I have to thank most in my life is my mother,” she said, her voice clear and steady. “Without her, I wouldn’t be who I am today.” She bowed deeply in my direction. I stood up, applauding wildly, basking in the envious and admiring glances from everyone around me. 5 “Amelia’s mom,” a voice whispered from behind me, “your daughter doesn’t look very happy. That smile… it seems so forced.” I glanced over at Amelia, who was posing for photos, her smile perfectly pleasant as she politely declined any picture requests that included boys—even young children or male teachers, just as I’d instructed. I pulled a sanitizing wipe from my purse and scrubbed at the spot on my shoulder where the other parent’s chin had brushed against me. “She’s just a serious girl,” I said coolly. “In this day and age, it’s better for a young woman to be reserved.” The parent to my right leaned forward, adjusting his glasses. “Is that one of those Obedience Earpieces she’s wearing? My nephew’s poodle has one…” “You’re mistaken,” I snapped, closing my purse with a loud click. “It’s a simple noise-canceling earbud.” I got up and walked away without another word. The divorce had taught me a valuable lesson: the earpiece had to remain my secret. On the day she had to declare her college major, Amelia’s fingers hovered over the keyboard for a long time. Finally, she summoned her courage. “Mom, the computer science program at CalTech…” “Absolutely not,” I cut her off, snatching the laptop and typing in the code for the state university’s teaching program. “That’s too far away. I can’t have you moving across the country by yourself.” I continued typing. “Besides, teachers get summers and holidays off. It will make it much easier for you to take care of your family someday.” The blue light on her earpiece blinked erratically for a few seconds, then settled into a steady glow. After starting university, she grew quieter, spending hours just staring out the window from the balcony. Clumps of her dark hair clogged the drain in the kitchen sink like wilted seaweed. One day, as if sensing my growing anxiety, she spoke, her voice devoid of emotion. “I’m fine, Mom. As long as you’re happy, I’m happy.” I was tallying up her medical bills for the month, and her words brought a lump to my throat. Such a thoughtful child, I thought. She understands how hard it is for a single mother. After she graduated, I moved with her into the teacher’s apartment complex provided by her new school. Her life was simple: she focused on her lesson plans, and I took care of everything else. During her breaks, she would either come with me to visit relatives or sit at home, resting her forehead against the wall as she stared into the sun. When she turned twenty-three, a matchmaker came knocking. It was then I realized that Amelia had reached a marriageable age. For years, I had forbidden her from interacting with any males besides the students in her class, so she’d never had the chance to date. But that was fine. I was here. I would find her a suitable husband. The day her child was a month old, I removed her earpiece, my heart swelling with pride. “Now,” I said, “it’s your child’s turn.” She took it from my hand, her face a blank mask, but then her arm shot out and she pushed it into my own ear. Before I could even process what was happening, she spoke, each word a cold, hard stone. “Kill me.” And in the next instant, I snatched the fruit knife from the table and, without a second’s hesitation, plunged it straight into her heart.

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To save a buck, I rented a notoriously haunted apartment. The first night, the faucet turned on by itself. I yelled into the empty air, “You’re paying the water bill!” The water shut off instantly. I thought that was just the beginning… I just never expected that the next day, I’d find a three-course meal waiting for me on the dining table. 01 The note was written in what looked like blood. Crimson, with a faint metallic tang in the air around it. The handwriting was sharp, elegant, radiating an air of non-negotiable, C-suite authority. I, Chloe, a perpetually broke optimist just trying to outrun my rent and bills in the big city, just stared at that slip of paper for a solid thirty seconds. My brain did a quick calculation. Three dishes and a soup. A perfect balance of meat and vegetables, plated beautifully, wafting a soul-snatching aroma. A meal like this from any restaurant would set me back at least fifty bucks. Going Dutch, that’s twenty-five. Worth it. What is fear, anyway? To someone who’d been living on instant noodles for three days straight, “fear” was just an adjective that couldn’t fill my stomach. I picked up my fork and speared a piece of glistening, braised short rib. I put it in my mouth. Rich but not greasy, it melted on my tongue. So good I nearly swallowed my own tongue. As I devoured the meal like a starved wolf, I mumbled at the air between mouthfuls. “I mean, seriously, Mr. Ghost? You’re a little cheap, don’t you think? You’re already dead, what’s with all the penny-pinching? Lighten up a little, will you?” The air was silent, filled only with the sound of my chewing. After I finished, I let out a satisfied burp. Staring at the greasy plates, my inner sloth took over. As a little test, I piled them in the sink and left them there. Consider it a little experiment to probe my new “roommate’s” boundaries. The next morning, I was woken by the faint clinking of pots and pans. I tiptoed to the kitchen doorway and peeked in. The dishes in the sink were sparkling clean, stacked in a perfectly neat pile, like a row of soldiers awaiting inspection. Next to them was another note. Not in blood this time, just a standard black pen. The handwriting was still impossibly elegant, but the message was ice-cold. “Dishwashing Fee: $5 per service. To be settled at the end of the month.” I burst out laughing. Unbelievable. Truly. I, Chloe, in my twenty-odd years of life, had never met a ghost with such a strict moral code. My competitive spirit was officially ignited. So, he wanted a battle of wills? Fine by me. Game on. I deliberately left a full garbage bag by the front door, blocking half the entryway. Let’s see you take this out, I thought. The next day, the garbage bag was gone. A sticky note was on the door: “Errand Fee: $10.” I came home late one night after working overtime, dragging my half-dead body through the door and fumbling for the light switch in the dark. Click. The living room lamp turned on by itself. It was a warm, gentle glow from the floor lamp, soft and easy on the eyes. For a moment, a corner of my heart softened. And then, a slip of paper fluttered down from the lampshade. “A light left on for you. Electricity bill to be calculated separately.” That tiny spark of warmth was instantly crushed by the words “ELECTRICITY BILL.” I rolled my eyes at the ceiling. This guy. A giant man-child whose corporate habits followed him even into the afterlife. The days trickled by in this ridiculous, comical “war.” I gradually started to figure out my ghost roommate’s personality. His name was Sebastian. That was the answer he finally gave me after I spent a week writing “What’s your name?” on sticky notes. Two elegant, blood-red words appeared beneath my question. Sebastian. He was a neat freak. If I shed a single hair on the floor, it would float its way into the trash can. He had OCD. If a single book on my shelf was out of height order, the entire thing would be perfectly reorganized by the next morning. He was a master chef but held a grudge like no one I’d ever met. I complained once that a dish was too salty, and he served me nothing but plain boiled vegetables for the next three days. He was also brutally honest. I bought a dress on sale and was twirling happily in front of the mirror. Words slowly condensed in the steam on the glass: “Questionable aesthetics, questionable taste, and an even more questionable wallet.” I stomped my foot in frustration, yelling at the air, “Who asked you? You’re a penny-pinching cheapskate who wants to go Dutch even in death!” The words on the mirror changed: “Right back at you.” I started getting used to his presence. I even started to enjoy it. At least I never had to eat instant noodles again. At least, in this cold, sprawling city, there was now a “person” who would leave a light on for me. Even if I had to pay for it. One day, my one and only best friend, Jessica, came to visit. I gave Sebastian a heads-up. “My best friend is coming over. She scares easily, so you behave yourself today, you hear me?” In the air, a magazine levitated off the couch and flipped open to a page with a giant “OK” printed on it. The second Jessica walked in, she took an exaggerated sniff. “Chloe, did you win the lottery? Did you hire a maid? This place is way too clean to be yours.” I let out a dry laugh. “Just turning over a new leaf.” As soon as the words left my mouth, the TV, which had been playing a reality show, suddenly flickered and switched to the business channel. A crisp, articulate male voice began analyzing stock market charts. Jessica jumped. “Where’s the remote?” “Probably… a loose connection,” I said, straight-faced, as I changed the channel back. We were chatting when the cup in front of Jessica slid a few inches across the table on its own. “Ah!” she shrieked, a sound that could shatter glass. “The cup! The cup just moved by itself!” I calmly slid the cup back and patted her shoulder. “Don’t worry. That’s just my roommate. He’s a bit of a prankster, but he makes great food.” Jessica stared at me in horror, her eyes screaming that she was looking at a crazy person. “Chloe…” Her lips trembled. “Are you… are you under too much stress? Are you hallucinating?” I sighed. I knew there was no explaining this. After sending a thoroughly spooked Jessica on her way, I slumped onto the couch, feeling a little dejected. See? An encounter like this was destined to be a lonely one. No one would ever believe me. The light in the living room dimmed slightly, becoming softer, warmer. I turned and looked toward the huge floor-to-ceiling window. The evening sun coated the glass in a layer of gold. And for the first time, the tall silhouette of a man in a white shirt appeared before my eyes, clearer than it had ever been. He was still translucent, like a walking mist, but I could make out his neat, short hair and his ramrod-straight back. He was holding a cloth, meticulously wiping a smudge on the window I’d missed that morning. His movements were focused, deliberate, with an almost obsessive elegance. Suddenly, my friend’s worry, the world’s disbelief… none of it mattered. In this massive, lonely city, I finally had a home. And a very, very unique family member. 02 The good times didn’t last. The cold winds of corporate downsizing finally blew their way to a low-level worker like me. Layoffs. A sterile email, a few lines of soulless corporate jargon, and just like that, the meager salary I endured a two-hour daily commute for was gone. I walked through the crowded streets, clutching a cardboard box of my personal belongings, feeling for the first time like a piece of discarded trash. Back home, I threw myself onto my bed and pulled the covers over my head. All the frustration and anxiety I’d been suppressing finally broke through. I cried my heart out, as if trying to purge every single hardship I’d endured in this city over the years. I don’t know how long I cried, but eventually, the faint, soaring melody of a classical piece drifted in from the living room. It was Dvořák’s “New World Symphony,” my favorite. I had mentioned it once over dinner, just talking to the air. “This piece is so beautiful. It makes you feel like you can get through anything.” I sniffled and dragged my heavy feet out of the bedroom. On the dining table sat a plate of steaming Coke-glazed chicken wings, my absolute favorite comfort food. Next to it, a note lay quietly. It had only two words. “On the house.” Tears, traitorous and hot, streamed down my face again, splashing onto the dark wood of the table. This time, they weren’t tears of self-pity. They were tears of warmth. I ate and cried, and for the first time, I spoke to the empty room with genuine sincerity. “Thank you, Sebastian.” It felt as if a faint sigh echoed in the air. With a full stomach came renewed strength. I wiped my tears, opened my laptop, and started blasting out my resume. Reality was harsher than I’d imagined. The resumes I sent vanished into a digital black hole. The few interviews I landed all ended in rejection after the final round. The number in my bank account dwindled daily. Rent, utilities, and Sebastian’s meticulously kept “ledger” of my debts felt like mountains pressing down on me, suffocating me. Anxiety gnawed at my nerves. I started having sleepless nights. Finally, I received an interview notice from a company I’d only dreamed of working for. It was the endgame in my career plan. I dug out the only decent suit I owned from the back of my closet, ironing it again and again, terrified of a single wrinkle. On the day of the interview, I woke up extra early. I was so nervous that when I bought breakfast at the coffee shop downstairs, my hand trembled, and I spilled an entire cup of scalding Americano all over my crisp white shirt. In that instant, my world collapsed. I ran home in a panic, threw the stained shirt on the sofa in despair, and stared at my red-eyed reflection in the mirror. I wanted to die. The interview was in an hour. There was no time to buy a new one. Was this it? Was I going to have to give up? I sank to the floor, defeated, tears welling in my eyes. Just then, I heard the low hum of the washing machine starting up in the laundry room. I froze. I scrambled over and saw my coffee-stained shirt tumbling inside the machine. Twenty minutes later, the wash cycle finished. The dryer kicked in. Another twenty minutes passed. A clean, warm shirt, smelling faintly of fresh linen, appeared on a hanger, dangling from my bedroom doorknob as if held by an invisible hand. I stared at the pristine shirt, feeling like I was in a dream. I threw it on and bolted out the door. The subway station was a nightmare of rush-hour traffic. I watched the seconds tick by, sweat beading on my forehead. Just as I was about to give up and try to fight my way onto a bus, the subway turnstile directly in front of me beeped, the light turning green as the gate swung open. I didn’t have time to think. I darted through. On the platform, the doors of my train were slowly sliding shut. It’s over, my heart sank. But just as the doors were about to meet, they seemed to catch on something. A harsh alarm blared, and they sprang open again. I practically fell onto the train. I gasped for air, my heart hammering against my ribs. It was all too much of a coincidence. A coincidence that felt like someone was clearing a path just for me. I arrived at the company five minutes before the interview was scheduled to start. Sitting in the conference room, every second I waited for the interviewers felt like an eternity. My turn. I took a deep breath and walked in. Four interviewers sat in a line, their expressions grim. My palms were sweating. The self-introduction I had practiced so many times completely vanished from my mind. My brain had just blue-screened. As I stood there, mortified and wishing the floor would swallow me whole, a black pen on the table suddenly rolled to a stop right next to my hand. I instinctively picked it up. The cool touch of the metal helped to calm my racing heart. I glanced down and saw a single, tiny but clear word meticulously carved into its side. Steady. My heart settled instantly. That one word was like a shot of adrenaline straight to my soul. I looked up, met the lead interviewer’s gaze, and offered a confident smile. “Good afternoon, everyone. My name is Chloe…” I have never aced an interview like that in my life. A week later, I got the offer. The day I got my first paycheck, I rushed to the supermarket, bought a good bottle of wine, and a ton of fresh ingredients. Back home, I cooked up a feast. I filled two glasses with wine, raised one to the empty living room, and declared loudly, “Sebastian, this one’s for you! Thank you for being my five-star support system!” In the air, the other wine glass trembled slightly, clinking against mine with a soft, clear sound, as if in response. I smiled, but my eyes were wet. I knew, without a doubt, that I wasn’t alone. I had an invisible guardian angel. 03 After landing the new job, my “cohabitation” with Sebastian entered an era of unprecedented harmony. I was the breadwinner, and he was… well, he was the one who kept the house in immaculate order while using his elite corporate logic to supervise my spending and plan my finances. I even started to savor this unique companionship. Coming home to a hot meal every day; having a “CFO” help budget my salary each month; finding relevant books and materials mysteriously appearing on my desk whenever I hit a wall at work. He was like a silent mentor, an all-powerful butler, a… a complete stranger I knew better than anyone. I knew nothing about his past. And as our silent partnership grew stronger, so did my curiosity. Sebastian, how did he actually die? The vague online news report said he died from an “accidental gas leak.” But it never sat right with me. A man with such intense OCD that he arranged books by color and height, a man obsessed with rules and order to a pathological degree… how could he make a rookie mistake like forgetting to turn off the gas? I tried to ask him. “Sebastian, how did you die?” The lights in the room flickered. The cup on the table vibrated. He seemed to be trying to communicate something, but it was as if some force was holding him back, preventing him from getting the message across clearly. The more violently he reacted, the more suspicious I became. I decided to start with the apartment itself. I found the real estate agent who had rented me the place, a man named Marcus. I asked to meet him at a nearby café, using the excuse of wanting to discuss renewing my lease. Marcus was the same as I remembered, warm and friendly, with sincere-looking crinkles around his eyes when he smiled. “Ms. Chloe! How are you settling in? I told you, didn’t I? Great location, great layout. It’s just… you know, what happened before. Not everyone can handle it. But you look so well, I knew you’d be fine,” he said, making easy small talk. “It’s been great,” I smiled, then casually brought it up. “I was just a little curious about what actually happened here. I looked it up online, but the news was so vague. Just said the owner passed away in an accident.” Marcus took a sip of his coffee. His eyes darted away for a fraction of a second. “Ah, well, that’s all in the past. Just an accident. You’re young, don’t dwell on things like that. Just enjoy the apartment. It’s actually got great feng shui, you know. Look at you, you haven’t been here long and you’ve already landed a better job. Your luck is turning around!” He expertly changed the subject, repeatedly advising me not to overthink it, not to dig into it. His friendliness, right now, felt jarringly off. A normal agent would only care about rent and contracts. Why was he so concerned with my “psychological well-being,” so insistent on stopping me from learning about the apartment’s history? The meeting, far from easing my doubts, sent my internal alarms screaming. That night, I had a dream that terrified me… In the dream, I was standing in a thick, white fog, unable to see anything around me. I heard two voices arguing fiercely. One was familiar, yet strangely different. It was Sebastian. His voice was laced with fury and disappointment. “…I treated you like a brother, and you touched that money! Marcus, are you insane?!” The other man’s voice was muffled, a mix of pleading and viciousness. “Sebastian, just help me one more time, just this once! I swear I’ll pay it all back!” “No! That’s client money! What you did is a crime!” “So you’re just going to let them destroy me?”

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1 A week before our wedding, I was designing e-vites on Mike’s laptop. My hand slipped as I typed “For now and for all our years to come,” accidentally opening his browser. [What if you’re about to marry someone but having second thoughts?] My fingers froze. Mike was on the sofa, frowning at his game. The AI chatbot replied: [Is this anxiety, dissatisfaction, or…] Mike typed again: [It’s neither. What if I met someone new and can’t stop thinking about her?] The AI concluded: [A true connection is rare. Don’t let it go.] I looked at him and asked steadily, “Are we rushing this? Are you sure you’re ready?” He put his phone down, voice tender: “How could you think that, Kate? I’ve waited ten years for this. It was always you.” His eyes returned to the screen. I looked down—a new message popped up: “Ugh, she asked if I was ready. I lied. What now?” … I sat in the study, the water in my cup trembling, sending ripples across its surface. We met when we were eight. Sixteen years of a storybook childhood friendship, followed by a ten-year marathon of love. I never, ever thought Mike would be the one to waver. I closed the laptop and walked over to him, casually taking his phone from his hands to browse through it. From food delivery orders to travel apps, from his social media follows to his direct messages—there was nothing. My face was his chat wallpaper. My photo was his profile banner. There were no restricted posts, no hidden friend lists. It was too clean. So clean it felt sterile. “What’s this? Hunting for a cheater?” He laughed, wrapping his arm around my waist and resting his head on my shoulder. “Find anything? Or did you just find the same loyal dog who’s been stuck to your side all these years?” I stared at his bright, open expression, a smile that was all charm and innocence. I wanted to smile back, but my lips wouldn’t move. “What if you meet someone else someday? Someone who makes your heart race more than I do?” He flinched, and a shadow fell over his eyes. “I don’t like jokes like that, Kate.” His voice was low, serious. “From the day I understood what love was, I knew I would only ever love you. Even if I met someone who seemed perfect, I would never, ever allow myself to do anything to betray you.” Looking at his earnest face, I felt a flicker of doubt in my own suspicion. He was the one who had pulled me from the deepest, darkest abyss of my life. He was the one who stayed by my side through it all. He had seen me at my most broken, my most unlovable, and he had still chosen me. Maybe everyone feels a flash of panic before their wedding. Maybe I was being too hard on him. He stood up and pressed a soft kiss to my forehead. “I’m going to take a shower,” he said, his smile returning, carefree. “You can keep searching. Let me know if you find anything.” He disappeared into the bathroom. I looked at the picture of us on his phone’s lock screen and felt my tense shoulders relax. I was about to put the phone down when a delayed payment notification popped up. It was a receipt for a returned portable charger, probably a glitch in the app sending it again. The charge was $12, for a rental period from 1 PM to 5 PM today. He was supposed to be in a company meeting at that time. The rental location was The Grandview Hotel. My breath caught in my throat. I dialed the hotel’s front desk. “Hello, I was a guest who checked in this afternoon around 1 PM. I seem to have misplaced a pair of diamond earrings. Could you please help me look for them?” I added, “I don’t remember the room number, but the guest name is Mike Archer. His ID number is…” After a moment of typing, the receptionist replied politely, “I’m sorry, ma’am, but I don’t see a guest by the name of Mike Archer who checked in at 1 PM today.” My heart, which had been hammering against my ribs, slowly began to settle. Maybe he was just passing by and needed to borrow a charger. He was always forgetting to charge his phone. But the receptionist’s next words made me freeze. “However, I do have a record of a Mr. Mike Archer with matching identification. He just didn’t check in this afternoon.” The frantic clatter of a keyboard echoed through the phone, and my own pulse raced to match it. Then, silence. “Here it is. He checked in six months ago. He booked a suite for an extended period. Room 328.” The phone slipped from my grasp and clattered onto the floor. The voice on the other end continued, tinny and distant. “Would you like me to have someone go up and check the room for you? Hello? Ma’am, are you still there?” I fumbled to pick up the phone, my voice trembling. “No, that’s alright. I found them.” The sound of the shower stopped. Mike leaned against the doorframe, his hair still damp, steam swirling around him. In the hazy light, his smile was audacious, almost reckless. “So? Did you find the other woman?” I forced down the wave of nausea and managed a weak smile. “Nothing. You’re clean.” He took the phone from my hand, and for a split second, I saw a flicker of smug triumph in his eyes. I knew that look. It was the same expression he wore when a business rival tried and failed to catch him in a mistake. I didn’t sleep a wink, staring into the darkness until dawn broke. The next morning, after making breakfast, Mike left for work, whistling, a spring in his step. I opened an app on my phone I’d never used before and watched as a small red dot began to move away from our apartment. It was a GPS tracker for the cat’s collar, but our little rascal, Mittens, refused to wear it, so I’d tossed it in the trunk of his car months ago. He never knew. The car stopped. I stared at the name on the map, a chilling coldness seeping into my bones. The Grandview Hotel. On the wall, our engagement photo mocked me, his loving, adoring gaze now feeling like a dagger piercing my heart. After a long moment, I dialed the number of a private investigator. “Jack, I need you to tail someone for me, 24/7. I want to know his every move and every woman he sees.” I sent him the hotel address and all the information. Then, I just sat at the table, alone, for a very long time. Until Jack’s first message came through. I had run through countless possibilities in my head. But I never, ever expected it to be her. Tessa. Mike’s most hated intern, the one who was “parachuted in.” “I can’t stand girls like Tessa,” he had complained to me six months ago. “These little princesses who think they can just waltz in and coast by because their family has connections.” For the past six months, he had portrayed their relationship as pure animosity, a constant war of wills, made worse by the fact that she had been assigned to his team. He despised her. At least, that’s the show he put on for me. I grabbed my car keys and sped to the location Jack sent. “Tessa Thorne, 22, fresh out of college,” Jack briefed me over the phone, his voice grim. “Her dad’s a major shareholder in a partner company, mom’s a doctor. A classic rich girl. Bubbly personality, gets along with everyone. The people at your boyfriend’s company love her.” He paused, and I could hear the pity in his voice. “Including your boyfriend.” “He even pulled strings to get her the lead on a multi-million dollar project, stepping back to act as her support.” My hand, resting on the binoculars, tightened. I leaned forward, focusing the lens on the window of the hotel room across the street. Tessa was sitting by the window. Mike came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her, his eyes filled with a tenderness so profound it made my stomach churn. The next second, the wind lifted the sheer curtain. And Mike leaned down and kissed her. It wasn’t a gentle kiss. It was hungry, fierce, like a teenager’s first taste of passion. Despair washed over me, drowning my reason. My hand fumbled in my purse, searching for my pill bottle. I shook out a few tablets and swallowed them dry. I could hear my own voice, strained and shaking despite my best efforts. “The camera, Jack! Do you have the camera!?” “Get every single second of it!” They stayed in that room all day. I followed them when they left the hotel. I watched them shop at a luxury mall. I sat in the same restaurant as they shared a romantic dinner. Mike gave her everything—material gifts, emotional validation, a perfect day. They ended the night with a late-night movie. I sat in the row directly behind them, hidden under a hat and a mask, a voyeur lurking in the shadows. Tessa nibbled on his earlobe, her voice a playful whisper. “Spending the whole day with me… aren’t you afraid that psycho will find out and have another one of her episodes?” She giggled. “What if I took a picture of us like this and sent it to her? Do you think she’d lose her mind and try to kill us?” Mike turned and gave her a hard, silencing kiss, taking her phone. “Don’t be ridiculous. I won’t let her hurt you.” He softened his tone. “But she’s… unstable. When she snaps, she’s not herself. Just be good and don’t provoke her.” He kissed her again, his voice a husky murmur. “Let’s go to the car after this, okay? I can’t wait…” Tessa leaned into his shoulder with a soft laugh, then slowly slid down, resting her head between his thighs. A moment later, Mike’s body tensed. He gripped the armrest, a sharp hiss escaping his lips. The movie blared on, the sound of explosions and dialogue covering their sordid exchange, but it couldn’t drown out the sound of my heart shattering into a million pieces. It was so loud, so clear. Ten years ago, he was the boy who dug me out from under a pile of rubble with his bare hands, who held me tight and promised he would love and protect me for the rest of his life. Now, that same boy was getting a blowjob from another woman while calling me a psycho. He knew. He knew my deepest wound was betrayal. He had been there for the most shameful moments of my past, had seen the ugliest of my scars. And now, he was choosing to destroy me in the exact same way. After a few minutes, Tessa sat up, her face flushed and her eyes hazy with desire. Mike couldn’t wait any longer. He pulled her into his arms and practically dragged her out of the theater. I started to get up, but Jack grabbed my arm, his face etched with concern. “Kate, don’t go down the same road your mother did. Sometimes, knowing too much just gets you hurt. Why tear yourself to pieces over this?” he pleaded. “Let me handle the rest. You go home.” My father’s affair. My mother, accused of being the mistress, beaten in the street until she lost an eye and was left with a permanent limp. She had died holding onto that hatred, never understanding why. I pulled my arm free, my body trembling uncontrollably. “It’s okay, Jack. I’m not my mother.” My voice was cold, distant. “She couldn’t bear the betrayal because she loved him. For me… the betrayal is the reason I will choose not to love.” “The deeper the pain cuts now, the less mercy I’ll show later.” In the parking garage, Mike’s back rose and fell as he moved over Tessa in the backseat of his car. Through the foggy window, I saw her say something. Mike paused, fumbling for his phone with his right hand. A second later, my phone rang. I took a deep, shuddering breath and answered. “Hey, Kate. Are you asleep yet?” Across the lot, the shadows in the car began to move again. A faint, breathy moan reached me through the phone. “No. I’m looking at our e-vites. When are you coming home?” There was a beat of silence on his end, then he spoke quickly. “I have to work late tonight. I won’t be back.” His breathing was heavy, each gasp a knife twisting in my heart, the pain so sharp it made my limbs go numb. I fought back a sob. “Mike… you promised you’d help me with the wedding favors. The wedding is so soon.” My voice cracked. “And the seating chart, and the final meeting with the planners, and…” I clamped my hand over my mouth, turning away, refusing to let him hear me break. He didn’t answer for a long time, but the rhythm in the car never stopped. My eyes blurred as Tessa suddenly bit down on his shoulder. I heard his sharp intake of breath, a pained grunt. “Ngh… Behave, don’t do that,” he growled into the phone, clearly not talking to me. Then he quickly covered, “Sorry, that was the assistant’s puppy. It just bit me. You should get some sleep. And don’t forget to take your medication.” The line went dead. Across the way, after a final, violent surge, the movement stopped. I raised a hand to my face and felt the wet tracks of tears on my cheeks. I turned to Jack, my expression numb. “Did you get their faces on camera?” Jack held up his camera, his eyes filled with a complicated mix of pity and respect. I gave a weak, absentminded nod. “Good. As long as you got their faces. It is for a wedding, after all. You need to see the happy couple.”

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