Category: English

The anesthesia faded, replaced by a sharp, knifing pain in my abdomen. I was bleeding heavily, nurses rushing around me, but my husband Arthur was gone. My newborn daughter gave a faint cry. Arthur’s assistant rushed in, panicked. “Mrs. Ashford, Mr. Ashford sent me to get the young miss. Miss Reed is feeling down, and he thought the baby could cheer her up for a few days.” My voice broke as I grabbed his arm. “Does he know I’m hemorrhaging? That she was premature, in an incubator?” “He knows. He said you’re strong—an heiress. You’ll pull through. Miss Reed’s stream is struggling, and she’s fragile.” I asked if they’d bring my daughter back. His silent pity was answer enough. A final tear fell as I closed my eyes. My child was gone. The door opened. Jessica, my once-best friend, stood there, makeup perfect but eyes red. “Anna, you were always a fool. Next time, don’t fight me for him.” I opened my eyes. It was my engagement day again. This time, I wouldn’t fight. 1 The phantom agony of the C-section was so vivid that a cold sweat broke out on my forehead. My last conversation with Jessica from my past life echoed in my mind. As I lay dying, she had come to my bedside, her voice trembling. “Was it worth it, for Arthur? You’ll die, and he’ll be glad for it. But your child will grow up without a mother…” I coughed up blood, a bitter laugh escaping my lips. “Jess, I’m so sorry. If I hadn’t fought you for him back then…” “Don’t,” she cut me off. “I never truly blamed you. I just hate that we let a man destroy our friendship.” As my consciousness faded, I heard Arthur’s voice from the hallway, dripping with a tenderness he never showed me. “Sophie, my love, don’t be sad. I brought the baby. Look how precious she is.” Sophie’s voice was cloyingly sweet. “Arthur, you’re so good to me. Won’t Anna be upset?” “What does she have to be upset about?” Arthur chuckled, a sound devoid of warmth. “She was just a fixture, a piece of the family merger. You’re the one I want to spend my life with.” “Now that she’s dead, it’s perfect. The child is yours to raise, and no one can ever keep us apart again.” Only in that final moment did I understand. The man I had loved with my entire being never had a place for me in his heart. I blinked, and the harsh sunlight of my own bedroom assaulted my eyes. I was lying in my own bed. My phone screen was lit up with a message from Jessica: “Anna, the Ashfords just called. They want you at the estate to discuss the engagement. With Arthur.” I shot upright. There was no scar, no wound on my abdomen. The date on my phone was exactly one year before my daughter’s birth. I had been reborn. I snatched the phone and immediately called Jessica. “Jess, I’ll see you at the estate this afternoon. We need to talk.” Her voice had a hopeful lilt. “You’ve finally seen the light? I told you Arthur was no good for you…” “We’ll talk in person.” I ended the call, a cold, burning hatred swirling in my chest. This time, I would not be Arthur Ashford’s stepping stone. And I would never let my child suffer the same fate. That afternoon, the grand living room of the Ashford estate was filled with the powerful heads of our families. The Ashford patriarch sat at the head of the room. Arthur, dressed in an impeccable suit, kept glancing at his phone, obviously texting Sophie. “Anna. Jessica,” the old man began, his voice raspy with age. “You are both fine young women. Whomever the Ashfords join with, it will be an excellent match. Arthur, the choice is yours. Who will it be?” In my past life, I had stepped forward, eagerly offering myself up. Jessica’s eyes had filled with tears, and our friendship shattered that very day. I hesitated, wondering if I should tell her the truth. But then I saw it in her eyes—a flicker of hope, a desperate desire. I knew she hadn’t given up on Arthur. She wanted to gamble on him one last time. Before I could speak, Jessica stood up. “Grandfather, I’d like to try!” Arthur looked up, startled. He clearly hadn’t expected her to be so bold. My heart tightened, but I remained silent. If this was her choice, the only thing I could do was be there to catch her when she finally crashed and burned. The patriarch nodded slowly. “Very well. Since Jessica is willing, then it is settled. The wedding has been in the works for six months. It will take place in three days.” “Wait,” I said suddenly. All eyes turned to me. “Grandfather, I agree to Jessica’s engagement, but on one condition.” 2 The old man stared at me. “Speak.” “Until the wedding, Arthur is not to have any contact with Sophie Reed.” I fixed my gaze on Arthur. “After all, Jessica is his fiancée now. He owes her that basic respect.” Arthur’s face darkened instantly. “Anna, Sophie and I are just friends. Don’t overstep.” “Besides,” he added coolly, “this is between me and Jessica. You have no place interfering.” Jessica, always proud, let out a sharp, humorless laugh. “Friends? Arthur, can you honestly say she’s just a friend?” She took a breath, her chin held high. “But it doesn’t matter. I trust you’ll know where your priorities lie. Here’s to the rest of our lives.” She still wouldn’t give up. Looking at her was like looking at a reflection of my past self. A wave of sorrow washed over me. Just then, Arthur’s phone began vibrating frantically. His assistant burst into the room. “Mr. Ashford! It’s terrible! Miss Reed has been in an accident!” Arthur shot to his feet. “What happened?” The assistant’s face was ashen. “She was on her way to the estate when a truck rear-ended her car. She’s being rushed to the hospital now!” “What?” Arthur’s pupils contracted. He spun around and sprinted for the door. “Send me the address!” He didn’t even make it to the threshold before the patriarch’s roar stopped him in his tracks. “Stop right there! We are not finished discussing your wedding. What could possibly be more important than an Ashford marriage? Arthur, it seems you have forgotten your place!” Arthur turned back without hesitation, his knees hitting the marble floor with a sickening thud. “Grandfather, Sophie isn’t some outsider. She’s… she’s carrying my child!” “She’s pregnant. I have to go to her.” The word “friends” now hung in the air, a bitter, mocking lie. The color drained from Jessica’s face. She swayed, and I rushed to steady her. “Jess,” I whispered. “You heard him.” The old man slammed his fist on the table, his face purple with rage. “You insolent boy! This is madness!” But he was talking to an empty room. Arthur was already gone. When we arrived at the hospital, Sophie was lying in bed, a bandage wrapped around her forehead, tears streaming down her face like a tragic heroine. The moment she saw Arthur, she threw herself into his arms. “Arthur, my love, I was so scared! I thought the baby and I were going to die! I can’t believe I’m seeing you again…” “Shh, it’s okay. I’m here now. I won’t let anything happen to you.” Arthur held her tight, his eyes overflowing with a raw, protective love he had never once shown me. Then he turned, his gaze falling upon Jessica and me, and his expression turned to ice. “Which one of you did this!” Jessica stared at him, stunned. “What are you talking about?” Sobbing, Sophie pointed a trembling finger at Jessica. “Who else could it be? Before I left, I sent you a message. I told you I was pregnant with Arthur’s child and I wanted to talk. You refused, and you threatened me! You said you wouldn’t let me get away with it!” She held up her phone. On the screen was a message sent to Jessica: “I’m carrying Arthur’s child. We’re truly in love. Please, Miss Lynn, I’m begging you to let us be together…” Jessica’s reply was three simple words: “In your dreams.” I had known Jessica for years. That was the response of a proud woman who had been provoked, nothing more. If she had truly wanted to harm Sophie, she would never have wasted time with a text message. But Arthur wasn’t interested in logic. Jessica’s voice rose, desperate and cracking. “I didn’t send anyone to hit you! I was angry that you taunted me, but why would I ever hurt you or your child? I didn’t even know where you were!” “If it wasn’t you, then who was it?” Arthur’s voice was a low, vicious snarl. “Jessica, I never knew you were so vile. To marry into my family, you’d even resort to murder?” “I didn’t!” Tears streamed down Jessica’s face. “Arthur, please, just believe me this once. We’ve known each other for so long. Don’t you know the kind of person I am?” “I thought I did! That was my mistake!” Arthur roared. “You think I don’t know how jealous you’ve always been of Sophie? Now that she’s carrying my child, you’re desperate to clear the way before the wedding, so you decided to eliminate the ‘problem’!” “Jessica, you disgust me.” A bitter, self-mocking laugh escaped her lips. “I disgust you? Arthur, I have loved you for ten years. For you, I fought with my parents, I gave up my scholarship to study abroad, I even turned my back on my best friend. And all I get in return is that I disgust you?” “Yes!” The word was a weapon, sharp and immediate. “Compared to Sophie, you don’t even deserve to carry her shoes. Sophie is gentle and kind and never asks for anything. And you? Your mind is a labyrinth of schemes! If it weren’t for the Lynn family name, I would never have given you a second glance!” “Let me be perfectly clear. Even if we get married, I will never see you as my wife! You are just the public face of this merger. The woman I recognize, the only one in my heart, will always be Sophie.” His words were daggers, each one plunging deeper into Jessica’s heart. Her face turned a deathly gray, and her body trembled uncontrollably. The light in her eyes extinguished, flicker by painful flicker. 3 I held Jessica, my own body trembling with a rage that was both fresh and ancient. “Arthur, you have no proof. How can you accuse her like this? You believe every word Sophie says, but you won’t listen to a single thing from Jessica?” Arthur sneered. “Proof? Sophie’s word is all the proof I need. She would never lie to me. But you, Anna… you and Jessica are two of a kind. Don’t think I don’t know what you’re plotting.” “One of you drugs me, the other fakes a kidnapping. All this drama just to climb into my bed. You two really are best friends, aren’t you? Even your pathetic methods are the same.” The weight of my past life’s misery crashed down on me. I lifted my chin, my voice raw with fury. “I must have been blind to ever love a man like you, someone who can’t tell right from wrong! Arthur Ashford, mark my words. From this day forward, you and I are done.” Sophie, nestled in Arthur’s arms, glanced at us, a flicker of triumph in her eyes. Jessica grabbed my hand, her voice chillingly calm. “It doesn’t matter. Let him think what he wants.” “Anna, let’s go.” Once we were out of the room, Jessica could no longer hold it in. She collapsed against the hallway wall, sobbing uncontrollably. I rubbed her back, my own heart aching with the echoes of my past life’s pain. Her words were choked and broken. “I’m such an idiot. I knew he didn’t love me, but I just had to throw myself at him. And now… now I’m just some cheap, pathetic woman he thinks he can sleep with and discard.” “It’s not your fault,” I whispered. “He’s the one who’s blind.” I took a deep breath. “After all this, do you still want to marry him?” She shook her head, her body limp with defeat. “Anna, now I understand why you… in your last life… I regret it. I don’t want to marry him.” “But I have no way out. If I call off the wedding, my family offends the entire Ashford dynasty. It’s a gamble I can’t afford to take…” I looked down, an idea taking root in my mind. “I have a plan,” I said softly. “Let’s get you home first.” When we got back to her house, Jessica’s parents met us with grim faces. “Jessica, the Ashfords just called,” her father said, his voice heavy. “They said if we don’t issue a public apology, they’re pulling all their investments from Lynn Industries.” “The Ashfords hold all the power. One word from them and we’ll be ruined in this city. I told you not to chase after that boy, but you wouldn’t listen! Now our entire family has to pay for your mistake!” her mother cried, her eyes red and swollen. “What did you do?” Jessica froze, her face a mask of disbelief. “Make me apologize? I didn’t do anything wrong. Why should I apologize? If he’s not happy, he can just call off the wedding!” As the words left her mouth, her face went pale. Our eyes met. She understood. Sophie was, on the surface, just an influencer who had clawed her way up from nothing. To high society, she was a nobody, unsuitable for the role of an Ashford wife. No matter how much Arthur despised Jessica, he needed the Lynn family name. He would never let her go. “But we can’t afford to offend them!” her mother pleaded. “Lynn Industries is completely dependent on their investments. If they pull out, we’re finished! You need to call them and apologize right now. It doesn’t matter if it was your fault or not. We have to save the company!” My own parents arrived then, their expressions just as dark. “Anna, the Ashfords pressured us, too. They said if you keep helping Jessica, our family’s projects are finished.” Looking at our desperate parents, Jessica and I exchanged a look of shared defeat. We could sacrifice our own pride, but we couldn’t destroy our families. In the end, we were the ones who had fallen for Arthur. It was our mistake, and we had to be the ones to pay for it. Jessica wiped away her tears, her voice suddenly firm. “I’m not calling off the engagement.” She paused, then added, “But I’m not marrying him, either.” Our parents stared at us, utterly confused. I knew exactly what she meant. “That’s right,” I said. “We can just swap the bride.”

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My brother is the tragic second male lead in a novel. Right now, heartbroken over the heroine, he’s about to kill himself. I don’t try to talk him out of it. Instead, I lie down on a hotel bed and create a few fake hickeys on my neck. Then, I set up my phone to take a photo from a “boyfriend’s” point of view. Using the persona of some bleach-blond punk, I anonymously send the picture to my brother. “Ur sister is so hot. Decided im gonna marry her. I know im just some punk but ill make her happy. Can u just like, back off?” Then, a follow-up: “Also, shes so fine, my bae 4 life. Ill protect her forever. We gonna be makin out every day.” My brother, with the barrel of a gun pressed to his temple, sees the two messages. His vision goes black. He grits his teeth. With his left hand, he crushes his phone. With his right, he crumples the gun’s steel barrel. Suicide attempt: postponed. There’s a punk out there trying to mess with his sister. And he’s going to kill him. 1 I was an orphan, living on the streets. When I was six years old, a group of men grabbed me, took me to a sprawling mansion, and threw me at the feet of a young man named Sebastian Knight, an heir to one of the city’s most powerful families. That’s when I heard the voices—one was Sebastian’s, the other was something else entirely. The voice was cold and mechanical. “Sebastian Knight, she is the malicious supporting character. She will bring pain to the female lead. You must kill her now to protect the heroine.” I froze. I’m a what? A malicious… character? What does that even mean? Are they… going to kill me? Sebastian let out a lazy sigh and swiveled in his leather chair. A gun was in his hand. Our eyes met. He blinked, then let out a short, incredulous laugh. He pointed at me. “You can’t be serious,” he said to the empty air. “You’re telling me this six-year-old is the villain? What’s she gonna do, attack the heroine with a Barbie water pistol?” The System explained, “She is young now, but when she grows up, she will cause the heroine immense suffering.” They were talking so much. I was so hungry my head was spinning. I couldn’t focus on anything else. I tugged on the hem of Sebastian’s expensive trousers and looked up at him. “Brother,” I whispered, “I want to eat.” The System gasped. “As expected of the beautiful and cunning villainess! Such a powerful move! Truly terrifying! Sebastian, cover your eyes! Don’t let her cuteness sway you! Kill her!” Sebastian paused. “Tch, but she called me brother.” The System’s voice was grave. “Think of the heroine you love. Would you want to see her hurt?” At the mention of the heroine, Sebastian’s expression hardened. He raised the gun. But then, his gaze fell on my skinny, frail arms. He hesitated. “No rush,” he told the System. “Even prisoners on death row get a last meal. We can kill her after she’s eaten.” After I ate, I got sleepy. “Brother, I want to sleep.” The System sighed. “While it’s true she is rather cute, and pitifully small and thin… still! Sebastian, we cannot afford to be soft. Even if she calls us brother, we must not falter!” That set Sebastian off. “Hey, what’s this ‘we’? She only called me brother! Don’t you go getting a big head, you useless System!” They argued for a while. By the time they were done, I had curled up on the rug and fallen fast asleep. The System sighed again. “Let’s get back to business. Kill her quickly.” Sebastian looked down at my sleeping form. “No rush,” he said. “We’ll kill her after she wakes up. It’s bad manners to ambush someone in their sleep.” The System considered this. “True. And when she wakes up, she might even call us brother again… Er, I mean, it will be easier to kill her when she’s awake.” 2 Three months passed. Every single day, Sebastian and the System would plan my demise. And every single day, they’d decide, “No rush, no rush.” Finally, Sebastian declared that my education couldn’t be neglected. The System agreed that this was a valid point. And so, together, they gave me a new name, Aria, and enrolled me in the finest elementary school. From that day on, Sebastian stopped revolving his world around the heroine. Because now, he had to revolve it around my teachers. “Excuse me, teacher, why are two hairs missing from my Aria’s left eyebrow today? If anything happens to her, I will have this entire school razed to the ground!” “Teacher, in this class photo, why isn’t my Aria standing front and center?! For God’s sake, she’s clearly the most beautiful child here! Do you think I donate millions to this school every year for nothing?” The overbearing CEO in him was beginning to bloom. And the little devil in me was, too. The principal started calling Sebastian directly. “Mr. Knight, hello, yes. The thing is, today in class, Aria was caught hiding all the boys’ gym shorts. They’re quite upset.” Sebastian’s reply was deadpan. “Boys don’t need gym shorts. Tell them to stand still and let Aria have her fun.” The principal was speechless. Of course, when I got into too much trouble, Sebastian would try to discipline me. Like the time my teacher called him. “Mr. Knight, I saw Aria reading a book in class that wasn’t part of the curriculum. At first, I thought it was The Call of the Wild and was so pleased she was an admirer of classic literature. But then I looked closer… and it was The Call of the Wild Thing.” Sebastian was about to punish me, but that’s when the System would inevitably sigh in his head. “You know, she’s never had parents. She’s only ever had you.” “Go on, Sebastian. Yell at her. Look at her, just standing there, watching you. She’s not pitiful at all. Not one bit.” That was my cue. I’d look up at Sebastian, take his large hand in both of my small ones, and blink my big, innocent eyes. And just like that, his resolve would crumble. The 500-word apology essay he’d assigned me would become 300 words, then 100. Finally, he told me to just write five words. He was probably expecting “Brother, I am so sorry.” But when he opened the note, it read: “☆I love you, brother☆”. He and the System both gasped in unison. Tears welled up in their eyes, and they couldn’t bring themselves to say another harsh word to me. Heh. This young villainess has a few tricks up her sleeve. 3 I had, however, seen Sebastian truly angry once. He was on a date with the heroine, Seraphina Vale. It was supposed to be an important one. According to the plot, this was the date where he would fall completely in love with her. But just as he arrived, he got a call from my principal. “Mr. Knight, it’s a disaster! We had a school cooking activity today, and Aria’s green beans weren’t cooked all the way through! The entire class of thirty students is being rushed to the hospital! Your Aria… she’s turned into the school’s own Typhoid Mary!” Sebastian had to abandon his date with Seraphina to clean up my mess. I remember it so clearly. It was the first time he ever lost his temper in front of me. He stormed into the principal’s office and roared, “Idiots! They knew Aria was cooking! Why didn’t they think to take an antidote beforehand? Have they considered the psychological trauma this will inflict on my Aria? What if she’s too scared to eat now? She’s already so thin! And you people have the audacity to frighten her further!” The principal, drenched in a cold sweat, nodded furiously. “You’re absolutely right, Mr. Knight! These children today have no foresight! How could they not take an antidote? I’ll have a word with them! I do hope Miss Aria wasn’t too frightened. Please, don’t be angry…” Still, Sebastian was worried that the Great Green Bean Incident would make the other kids avoid me. So, he sent each of the thirty hospitalized students a little get-well gift: a deed to a condo in downtown Manhattan and the keys to a brand-new Rolls-Royce. Every single one of them woke up to find a property title and a car key on their bedside table. They were ecstatic. They asked each other if they had died and gone to heaven. In the end, not a single student held a grudge against me. In fact, many of them started begging me to be their personal chef and cook them some more undercooked green beans. Ever since I got my brother, life had been pretty great. I thought this as I dodged three classmates who were chasing me with empty bowls. 4 Time flew by. The year I turned sixteen, Sebastian was twenty-seven. One day, I was sitting in class when shimmering text started floating above the ceiling, visible only to me. [Such a shame. Is the devoted second male lead, Sebastian Knight, really about to be written out of the story?] [Yeah, the heroine just got engaged to the male lead. She invited Sebastian to the wedding and even rubbed it in his face, comparing him to her poor-but-proud fiancé. She told him, “Sebastian, your Rolex will never shine as brightly as the ambition in his eyes! I’m marrying him, and I hope I have your blessing.” Sebastian was literally shaking.] [The funny thing is, the poor guy’s ambition is to get rich enough to buy a Rolex. I don’t know what she’s on about.] [Never mind that, in twenty minutes, Sebastian is going to shoot himself. Ugh, he’s my favorite character. It’s so sad. After he dies, his business rivals will ruin his family, and his sister Aria will go from a princess to a pauper. So tragic.] My brother is going to kill himself?! I shot up from my desk and bolted out of the school. I couldn’t let him die. I had to find him! But where would he be? I tried calling, but he wasn’t picking up. The call didn’t go to voicemail; it was being rejected. In a flash of inspiration, I knew what I had to do. I would never make it to him in time, wherever he was. Time for some… unorthodox methods. I ran into a costume shop, bought a cheap, bleach-blond wig, and checked into a shady motel next door. I stuffed a towel inside the wig to give it the shape of a head and laid it on the bed. Then I lay down, pinched my neck to create a few angry-looking hickeys, and tore open the collar of my school uniform. I positioned the fake blond head on my chest, closed my eyes, and set my phone’s camera on a timer. Just like that, I had a scandalous-looking, post-coital selfie, taken from a lover’s perspective. In the photo, a girl with a tired expression sleeps, a glaring hickey on her neck. Her white uniform shirt is undone, and a man with shocking blond hair rests his head on her chest. I sent the photo to my brother from an anonymous number. “Ur sister is so hot. Decided im gonna marry her. I know im just some punk but ill make her happy. Can u just like, back off?” And the follow-up: “Also, shes so fine, my bae 4 life. Ill protect her forever. We gonna be makin out every day.” Less than a second later, a reply came through. “You bastard. Who are you?” “Touch her again, and I will kill you.” The text on the ceiling scrolled frantically. [Wait? Why isn’t the second male lead dying?] [I don’t know, he just started screaming something about a ‘bleach-blond punk’ and ‘I’ll kill you’ and then ran out.] I let out a long, shuddering breath and collapsed onto the bed. The knot of terror in my chest finally loosened, just a little. 5 I knew the show wasn’t over yet. I skipped my afternoon classes. That evening, I deliberately came home wearing high heels and a miniskirt. The massive foyer was dark, which was strange. I reached out and flicked on the lights. And there he was. Sebastian, sitting on the central sofa, with the entire household staff standing in two silent rows behind him. He sat on his throne-like chair, broad shoulders pressed against the red velvet, dark hair falling over his forehead. His narrow eyes were cold, his face an emotionless mask. I jumped. “Sebastian? What are you doing home so early?” He didn’t answer. His cold, dark eyes were locked on me, studying me for a long moment. It was late autumn, and I had a coat over my skirt, along with a thick, gray men’s scarf wrapped around my neck, conveniently hiding the hickeys. His voice was calm, almost unnervingly so. “You skipped class this afternoon. Where did you go?” “Um, I… I was out with friends.” “Friends?” His tone was glacial. “Can’t you find any friends who don’t have bleached-blond hair?” I looked down, hiding the guilt on my face, feeling like a student caught cheating by a teacher. Sebastian stood up. The staff immediately understood and filed out of the room, leaving the two of us alone in the cavernous mansion. He walked toward me, step by step, until he stood right in front of me, casting me completely in his shadow. I only came up to his collarbone, and the pressure was so intense I instinctively took a step back. His voice came from above me. “Take off the scarf.” It was strange. I hadn’t actually done anything wrong, so why did I feel so guilty? I forced a sweet smile and looked up at him. “Brother… wait, have you been busy lately? I missed you. Are you tired? Did you miss me?” He looked down at me, his voice cutting like glass. “Either you take it off, or I will.” Fine. There was no getting out of this. I lowered my head. “I’ll do it.” I moved as slowly as I possibly could, but eventually, the scarf came off. It had barely hit the floor before Sebastian kicked it away. In the next second, his cold fingers pressed down hard on the most prominent hickey. The touch made me shiver, but he didn’t pull away. He stared down at me. “What is this?” I said nothing. Sebastian’s jaw was clenched so tight I thought it might crack. “Aria, you’re sixteen, for fuck’s sake! How far did you go with him?” My face burned. I turned away. “It’s none of your business.” He straightened up, looking down at me from his full height, his voice dropping to absolute zero. “I’m going to ask you one last time. Are you going to tell me, or not?” I stared up at him, stunned. From the day he took me in, Sebastian had done nothing but spoil and protect me. I had caused every kind of trouble imaginable, but he had never, ever looked at me like this. His expression was terrifying. It made my blood run cold. If only the System were here. It might have been able to reason with him. But it was off on a mission in another world. I knew I had to keep the act going. Sebastian needed something to live for, something to be angry about. My body started to tremble. Then, I threw myself onto the floor and burst into tears. “I won’t tell you! Why do you keep grilling me like this? You can do anything for Seraphina because you love her! Well, I love my boyfriend, and I can do anything for him too! All I did was love him, what’s so wrong with that? Why are you interrogating me like a criminal? Get away from me!” After that passionate, unhinged, love-crazed monologue, the room fell silent. Sebastian’s expression didn’t change much, but his eyes lost their focus for a moment, as if something had just clicked into place in his mind. He froze, looking down at me, and muttered in disbelief, “Did you… learn this from me?” He stared at the weeping girl on the floor, and it seemed to become hard for him to breathe. Of course a child would grow up to be like the person who raised them. Her current love-crazed state was entirely his fault. He had given everything for Seraphina, so she had learned to do the same. She, too, would give everything for the one she loved, without a thought for the consequences. Even her own body.

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Since the Miscarriage, I started to become sensible. Never urged Julian to come home again, Didn’t mind him accompanying my best friend on vacation. Didn’t mind him being the father of my best friend’s son. Even now, I stepped on a few used Condoms in his car, Also face unchanged, casually threw into trash bag. Who knew Julian fiercely stepped on brakes, voice like a snapped string, “Me and Scarlett were intimate in the car… you just have this reaction?” I nodded, tone calm, “Hard to control feelings, I understand.” I finally became the sensible wife Julian wanted. Just he didn’t know, Those years I was most insensible, Really loved him. … Chapter 1 “Serena, you changed.” Julian’s voice somewhat trembling, “Before you wouldn’t be so indifferent.” I looked at street view flying past window, faintly responded, “That time insensible.” “Serena, I don’t need you so sensible, you can quarrel with me like before.” I pulled corner of mouth, gaze fell on my slightly curved pinky finger. That was last time I slapped Scarlett, pushed to ground by him, stepped broken by one foot. Seeing me silent, Julian unprecedentedly guaranteed to me, “Serena, after Christmas, I will cut clean with Scarlett, we start over.” One year ago if I heard such words, would definitely moved to tears. But now, I only feel ridiculous. Car drove all the way to Vance family old mansion, just entered door, I saw Scarlett wearing apron arranging plates, completely a hostess posture. Julian instantly panicked, “I didn’t know she would be here…” “Is I invited Scarlett to help.” Mother-in-law slanted eye at me, tone with thorns, “Christmas Eve, don’t be insensible make joke again.” This scene, exactly same as last year. That time Scarlett also like this entered house, left hand holding mother-in-law, right hand holding Julian. At reunion dinner table, I poured red wine in hand on her head. In Scarlett’s crying sound, Julian unhesitatingly splashed a basin of hot soup on my face. I subconsciously stroked faint scar on forehead corner, suddenly smiled, “Then hard work Scarlett.” Someone willing act virtuous, I happy to be free. Just turned want grab handful melon seeds, Julian but a grab me, voice suppressed disbelief, “Serena, you just let outsider spend Christmas with us?” I nodded smile, returned Julian’s words from last year exactly. “Scarlett alone taking child not easy, Big Christmas, can’t let them spend lonely.” “She is my best friend, I no opinion.” Speaking, Scarlett’s son suddenly rushed over, head hit on my lower abdomen. “Bad woman! Not allowed you rob my mom’s position!” Scarlett busy covered his mouth, “Kid watched too much cartoons, you don’t mind.” But in her eyes, no half apology. I quietly stood, abdomen remained dull pain. In this world already nothing can make me mind, Except that child I forever no chance born. Me and Julian were a pair envied by everyone in college, He remembered my every class time, when cold my thermos always warm. I knew he did experiment no time eat, pass cafeteria always brought his favorite ribs. We talked literature, also talked macroeconomics, were lovers, more soulmates. Graduation year Vance family bankrupt by opponent sniper, Father Vance overnight white hair, forced jump building by creditors. Julian forced drop out, took over astronomical debt. When I found him, he curled in corner of rental room, wrist knife cut hideous, blood flowed a ground. Father gone, mother sick, debt like mountain crushed him, he got severe depression. I approached him, he raised knife roar let me roll. Moment blade sank into my shoulder, he but suddenly sober, hugging me loud cry. Death all not afraid, still afraid living ma? I hid from family quit school, accompanied him carry together. Seven years, I pieced broken him back bit by bit. We set up stall, delivered food, took odd jobs, in countless early mornings check accounts together. Night paid off last debt, he used glass ring polished half year propose to me. Ring circle rough, but is most precious thing I wore. At wedding, he wept in front of everyone, “Serena, this life I absolutely not fail you.” After marriage, we loving sweet, only regret is no child. These years hard work overdrew our bodies, pregnancy for us abnormal difficult. Injections, egg retrieval, failure, try again… every time out from hospital, lower abdomen all heavy with cold pain. This time Scarlett brought child find me, We knew since childhood, her father rotten gambler, mother ran with someone when she very small. Parents pitied her, brought her home take care, we ate together lived together, until college separated. I smilingly stuffed a big red packet to child, blame her, “When married, also not tell me, let me prepare Dowry for you.” Her eyes dodged, suddenly said, “Remember junior year, I went find you? That time you guys rented a house.” I apologetic nod, “Those few days wronged you alone wait me in rental room, lab too busy, I also didn’t take you good stroll.” “One night, you didn’t come back,” She interrupted my words, voice very light, “He treated me as you.” She pushed child to my front, “This is Julian’s son.” I stood in place, tinnitus covered all sounds. Julian first reaction after knowing at home, was fiercely gave Scarlett a slap, then smoked on balcony whole night. Next day, he red eyes hugged me, “Serena, that night I drunk know nothing, I absolutely not recognize this child.” Day Paternity Test result out, mother-in-law hugged Leo laughed close not mouth. Julian but only cold face, “Except Serena’s child, others don’t think enter Vance family tree.” Scarlett cried sad, she said these years alone bring child not easy, if not desperate also absolutely impossible come find us. Julian impatient threw her a Check, let her forever disappear. Scarlett picked up check left, life seemed restored original. Julian still accompany me go hospital, considerate to me, hold my hand when injection, wipe tears when fail. I gradually put down heart knot, after all in this matter, Julian not know, and Scarlett also didn’t entangle too much. Three months later, IVF finally success. Just when I held prenatal check report, excited call Julian, across flowing road, I saw him. He one hand hold jumping Leo, other hand tight hug Scarlett waist. He lowered head, gentle kiss on Scarlett lip. I stood in place, paper in hand clenched deep wrinkles, finger calling phone trembling. I try hard keep voice calm, “Julian, where are you?” Voice on phone reveal hurried, “I meeting in company, go back accompany you later.” “Check result how? Success ma?” Success, but I rather not. See me silent, Julian thought failed again, comfort me, “It’s okay Serena, big deal we DINK, I won’t blame you.” Road opposite, Julian while call me, while rub Leo head, Scarlett smiling snuggle in his arms. Like extreme happy family of three. A tear smashed on back of hand, I pain to speak not out words, watch helplessly them disappear in my vision. Trance back home, finance sent report clearly missing $100 Million. Under question, other side stammer inform, “President Vance for new come Secretary Scarlett bid Sky Lantern bought sixty million gem ring, also bought villa car.” I in study, stare finance report sit till late night. Until door lock sound, Julian push door come in, bring a body cool air. “Why still not sleep?” He want hug me from behind, by me trace not leave dodged. “Angry?” He smiling hand a bunch rose, “Meeting dragged too late, sorry.” But he forgot remove thorns on rose, also forgot I don’t like rose, rose is Scarlett favorite flower. I turn computer screen to him. His smile stiff on face, but pretend calm, “Company recent new invest a project, need flow capital.” “What project need bid Sky Lantern, buy sixty million ring?” Julian Adam’s apple rolled once, “Do business, always need open some relations…” “Villa and car, all for open relations? I just know Scarlett relation so big.” “You all knew.” Room fall into dead silence. Half晌 (A while) later, Julian sighed, “Scarlett alone bring Leo live in rental room, she no work, living environment bad.” “Leo always my son, I can’t watch him suffer, I all for child.” I face cold indifferent, “So you use company money raise them?” Julian face sink, “Company is my Vance family asset, is I single hand make up, I have right decide how use!” I look him, suddenly feel incomparable stranger. “Julian Vance, you still remember company register day, register capital who paid?” He stunned. “Is I sold all inheritance jewelry, plus I worked three jobs saved money.” “Company first order, is I accompany client stomach bleeding exchange come.” “Most difficult time, is I mortgage grandpa left house then passed.” “Now you say, company is you single hand make up?” Julian face changed again change, finally turn into a kind irritable anger, “Yes, you paid, but I also gave you Mrs. Vance position, this still not enough?” “And Scarlett forever can’t get this title, I compensate her what wrong.” “Besides, yourself can’t pregnant child, could it be want my Vance family end heir?” Bruise left by ovulation injection still faintly pain, I laughed out tears. Sperm deformity rate greater than 98%, is main reason I always can’t pregnant. I took off that glass ring he hand polished, smashed pieces on ground. I sue Scarlett, want her spit out what ate in, Buy trending online expose her, let her ruin reputation. Scarlett didn’t live few days good life, then beaten back original shape, company also can’t stay. She use knife against throat, kneel on ground beg me, “Serena, I won’t rob your Mrs. Vance position, beg you let go us mother son.” She voice tear down, at Julian appear moment, wipe neck. Strength not heavy, look but very scary. Julian rush over fierce gave me a slap, pick up her just run hospital. Come back, he full eyes tired, “Serena, divorce ba, not for Scarlett, for Leo.” “You forced them no road to walk, I can only give them a title.” I coldly throw out prenatal check slip, State law, woman pregnancy period, husband cannot divorce. Based on what, I fight all strength born child born just no dad, and mistress illegitimate child but can step on my skeleton enjoy life. Julian look B-ultrasound image, face float a trace joy, no longer mention divorce. He seem change back that considerate husband. Until Scarlett son pushed down from third floor by someone, Leo wake up first thing, is in front police identify me, “Is Auntie Serena, push me down stairs.” “She said, I die, Dad just only belong her.” Company third floor monitor by human destroy, Only suspect person only me. Police investigate me, finally because evidence insufficient, give up prosecution. I used connection, ask best lawyer help me investigate truth. But Julian but decided is me, Day I out police station, he force choke my neck, eyes ice cold. “How you bear hand to child! You not worthy be human!” I pain to breath not up, hard easy then break free. That day start, Julian start whole night not home, say want redeem for me. I touch Scarlett once, he just twist break my wrist. I on net say a sentence truth, he just hold press conference reverse black white, accuse I am that third party. Public opinion reverse, netizens verbal attack pen punish me, scold my shameless. Parents help me explain, by netizens human flesh search, suffer poison beat. Scarlett a live stream after, parents brake line cut by someone, had car accident. In hospital pay money then find, my all accounts frozen by Julian. Find him time, he right with Scarlett entangle on bed, heat not disperse. “Leo want a sister.” He tone normal like saying weather. I whole body cold, only repeat, “My parents in hospital, need money.” “Apologize.” He button shirt button, eye also not lift, “Admit mistake to Scarlett, admit is you pushed Leo, money immediately arrive account.” “Julian Vance, that is person you called three years Mom Dad!” “Mom Dad?” He light laugh, “They give Scarlett eat left rice, as servant order time, but didn’t treat self as elder.” “If not they treat Scarlett harsh, Scarlett as to walk no road come find us ma.” These all Scarlett live stream rumor, Julian believed. I think of mother for Julian boil bowl bowl soup, father when he start business secretly stuff him bankbook. Also think childhood family poor, mother put new made cotton clothes wear on Scarlett body, and I wear Scarlett old clothes. Just when I bite teeth bow head to them, hospital notify bad news. Heaven spin earth turn, Scarlett block at door, “Haven’t apologize want go? Don’t want life saving money le?” I use all strength slap her a slap. Julian replace Scarlett return this slap, fierce push me. Lower abdomen hit cabinet corner, severe pain accompany warm wetness instant spread. Julian look full ground fresh blood, suddenly white face, crazy like pick up me rush hospital. Child not keep. Surgery light off time, Julian kneel bed side slap self face. I stare pale ceiling, there nothing have, like piece suddenly empty in my heart. At funeral I pain almost faint, but flow not a drop tear. Julian accompany me a long time, didn’t meet with Scarlett. He try like before chat with me, but I only quiet sit, not say a word. Later he stimulate me, deliberate loving with Scarlett, I also only feel numb. I seem no longer love Julian. Lawyer at this time gave me a investigation report. I flip material to end, fingertip ice cold, truth compare I thought more shocking. Back then Vance family bankrupt eve, biggest that loophole fund flow, end account holder is Scarlett father. Material inside also sandwich a paternity test report. Julian phone ring pull me from memory, He press speaker, Telephone inside voice clear explode in silent room, “Mr. Vance, third floor monitor repair success, Leo fall building complete process, filmed.”

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When Locke Foster ditched me again to chase Delphine across the Atlantic, I looked up at the endless stream of jets taking off and landing, and for the first time, I felt utterly, completely bored. This was supposed to be the best time of my life, yet I’d spent so many years stuck in his low-budget romantic drama. I tightened my grip on the plane ticket in my hand and boarded. Ten hours later, I landed. My phone buzzed with Locke’s text: “Ellie, listen, I’m so sorry. Can’t make Milan. Delphine and I worked things out. I’ll make it up to you when I get back.” He always did this, so casually, so openly treating me like his backup plan, always sure that I’d be there waiting. Later, when he inevitably came crawling back, disappointed and expecting me to pick him up at arrivals, he’d try to call, but my number would be blocked. He’d lift his head, and instead, he’d see me sprinting into the arms of a man in a pilot’s uniform, rising onto my toes to press a light kiss to his jaw. 1 Locke kept looking back at me as he approached the security checkpoint. He looked conflicted, wanting to say something, but not sure how to phrase the latest excuse. Finally, his friend, Brody, got fed up and shoved me hard toward Locke. “Come on, Locke, man up. Just break the news to your little spare tire.” Locke caught me, his lips pressed into a thin line. He knew he was in the wrong, and his voice was low, almost pleading. “Ellie, we’ll go to Milan next time, I promise. This time…” I tugged at the corner of my mouth, trying to flash the same easy smile I always used, the one that meant it’s okay, I understand. But the sound was stuck in my throat. Brody yanked me away and slapped Locke on the back. “Don’t sweat it, man. I’ll make sure the Consolation Prize gets home.” Locke started to speak to me again, but his phone rang. I watched him answer, his voice instantly shifting to a soft, cajoling tone. “Delphine, I told you I’ll be there in a few hours…” He walked through the security arch without a second thought, his back as straight and final as all the other times he’d abandoned me for Delphine. Brody scratched his head and grabbed my suitcase. “Alright, Little Spare, I’ll take you home.” I pressed my hand onto the handle of my luggage, shaking my head at his irritated expression. “I need a minute alone.” Brody smirked. “Don’t tell me you’re still thinking of chasing after him to France, are you? You haven’t figured out your role yet? Compared to Delphine, you’re on a totally different plane to him. You’re the ground floor.” When he couldn’t convince me, Brody left in a huff. I dragged my suitcase to the glass wall of the terminal and sat down, staring blankly as planes lifted and landed. I tried to pick out the flight that was supposed to have carried Locke and me to Milan today. This wasn’t the first time Locke had prioritized Delphine. It wasn’t the first time he’d broken our promise. But it was the first time I felt this heavy, soul-deep fatigue washing over me, pooling from my core to my fingertips. Suddenly, I was just so bored. 2 My hands were shaking as I boarded the flight, but the feeling was a strange mix of faint excitement and wild calm. Few people knew that I suffered from such severe acrophobia that the very idea of flying crippled me. Locke had known this about me since childhood. That’s why, after every family trip, he’d describe the breathtaking spectacle of the sky and the foreign landscapes in vivid detail. When he learned I dreamed of Milan, he’d gently run his hand over my hair and promise, “Ellie, I’ll take you. I promise we’ll see it together someday.” I believed him. From the time I was ten until I was eighteen. Then he threw himself into his turbulent, on-again, off-again relationship with Delphine. I silently played the understanding friend, distancing myself whenever they were together. But every time they split, Locke would inevitably come back to me, buy tickets, and say, “Let’s go, Ellie. I’ll finally take you to Milan.” I had a literal shoebox full of those wasted, expired tickets. I managed a self-deprecating smile. It took me until this moment to realize he’d been using that ticket as a dangling carrot, a cheap insurance policy, for years. 3 The plane started to taxi and pick up speed. My hands clenched the armrests, my body rigid against the seat back. The sense of lost gravity made my heart race, and cold sweat broke out on my forehead and back. Suddenly, the plane shuddered violently. I gasped, instinctively grasping the hand that was nearest to the armrest, shutting my eyes tight and trying to breathe. After what felt like an eternity, the hand I was white-knuckle gripping gently shifted its fingers. “Ma’am, are you okay?” I snapped my eyes open and turned my head. A handsome, smiling face was inches from mine. He held up our hands, which were still tightly clasped, and gave them a little shake. “Just a bit of expected air turbulence. It’s over now.” I realized I’d been squeezing his hand so hard it was pale, and I quickly let go, mumbling an embarrassed apology. He laughed softly, flexing his hand, and turned sideways to face me, instantly familiar. “Small girl, big grip. You’re afraid of flying, but you decided to come alone?” I stared at my still-trembling hands, remembering the name ‘Locke’ that had almost screamed itself from my mouth during the shake. A bitter ache rose from my fingers to my chest. I forced a tight smile. “I have to get over it. Being dependent on someone to conquer your fears is too heartbreaking.” He gave a slight, understanding nod and opened the window shade next to him. “Well, your bravery rewarded you with luck. Look, the sky is rarely this beautiful.” I blinked my stinging eyes and looked past him, out the window. The twilight was a brilliant, violent display of color, a bouquet of deep reds and hot oranges, blooming across the vast expanse of the sky. The sheer beauty of it shocked me, and tears streamed down my face. I couldn’t stop the silent, ugly sobs. What had I been doing all these years? What had I been waiting for? I had let someone convince me that my prime was secondary, that I didn’t deserve this kind of glorious, terrifying beauty. A jacket was gently placed over my head, shielding my moment of raw vulnerability. I finally felt it: I was free to let Locke go, completely and utterly. 4 When we deplaned, I learned the man was Miles Kennedy, a pilot who usually flew this route but was currently taking some time off. I nervously glanced at the jacket in his hand. “Captain Kennedy, thank you for the jacket.” Miles shrugged it off with a casual smile. Then, after a moment’s thought, he turned back to me. “As an apology for startling you, would you join me for lunch?” When I hesitated, he put on a look of mock distress. “There’s this one place I’ve wanted to try for ages, but eating alone seems so depressing. I keep missing it.” I’m still not sure how it happened. I had just resolved to enjoy a solo trip, yet the next thing I knew, I was sitting across from him in a chic Italian restaurant. Miles scanned the menu and asked if I had any dietary restrictions. I sadly shook my head. But all the sadness melted away when the beautifully plated food arrived. I took a few photos and, for the first time in ages, posted to social media: “The place I always dreamed of. Finally made it.” I wasn’t ready for the explosion. Brody, Locke’s obnoxious wingman, was the first to screenshot the post and tag both me and Locke in their group chat. “Locke, man, your Little Spare got smart? She’s playing mind games now, using reverse psychology.” “Wait, Little Spare, whose hand is in the fifth picture? That’s a dude’s hand, right?” Replies poured in: “She probably just found it online. Not even in the States. Bad lie, Ellie.” “Tsk. Tsk. Tsk. The Consolation Prize finally snapped. Been a doormat for too long.” Locke himself finally chimed in, tagging me: “Ellie, this is getting ridiculous.” “I messed up. I’ll bring you a gift when I get back.” I smiled thinly, calmly exited the group chat, and muted it entirely. Back in the chat, Brody’s jaw must have dropped: “The Little Spare went nuclear! She left the group!” Someone else posted: “Guys, this looks legit. I think that’s L’Osteria in Milan. And her backpack charm is visible.” Brody: “Photoshopped. She’s desperate. She’ll do anything.” Locke tagged Brody: “Did you take Ellie home like I told you to?” Brody: “…Yeah, man.” Locke: “Let her throw her fit. She’ll get over it. I’ll make it up to her when I’m back.” Brody: “What if it’s real, though?” Locke, stopped at the security gate in the Paris airport, took a deep breath and typed: “It can’t be. She has an issue. She can’t fly to Milan.” But as he sent the message, Locke felt a profound, chilling sense of anxiety, and the hand hovering over his screen trembled.

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After eight years in France, I returned with three PhDs and was invited onto a popular reality TV job-seeking show. Sitting in the audience, a female boss examined my resume, then smiled confidently. “I also studied in France,” she announced. “What a coincidence. Shall I test you?” Without waiting for a reply, she switched to fluent French and asked a brief question. Her words left me speechless. In the silence, whispers spread through the audience. The woman, introduced as Victoria, laughed first. She turned to the camera with a theatrical sigh. “It seems some overseas students aren’t quite what they claim to be. But it’s understandable—buying a foreign degree is trendy these days. There’s a world of difference between that and a true top student like me, who studied under the great Professor Olivier.” The host joined in, mocking, “Ms. Scott, you didn’t even understand? We may have to question your credentials.” Amid the laughter, I stared at the smug boss, completely baffled. It wasn’t that I didn’t understand. Her French was a grammatical disaster. And the professor she’d just named? He was my mentor, who supervised my research for eight years. I’d never once heard him mention a student named Victoria. 1 The host’s face was a mask of undisguised glee as he waited for me to crumble. I couldn’t let this farce continue, and I certainly wasn’t going to let my eight years of hard work be questioned by someone who could barely string together a coherent sentence in French. Taking a calming breath, I ignored the host’s predatory grin and addressed Victoria directly, speaking in the flawless, standard French I had used for nearly a decade. “My apologies, but I’m afraid I didn’t understand your question.” “However, if you wish to discuss my professional background, I am a graduate of the Sorbonne University in Paris. My academic history, research focus, and publications are detailed in my resume. I welcome any specific questions you may have regarding them.” I thought that would, at the very least, steer the conversation back to the actual purpose of the show: finding a job. Instead, the moment the words left my mouth, Victoria let out a short, sharp laugh. “Ms. Scott, forgive my bluntness, but your French has a very… heavy accent. If you try to communicate like that in Paris, I’m afraid you’ll be a laughingstock.” “Furthermore,” she continued, warming to her theme, “your sentence structure and word choice are completely stilted. Honestly, there were parts of that I couldn’t even decipher.” Standing on that stage, I almost laughed out of sheer disbelief. A heavy accent? Stilted? In my eight years in France, from my bachelor’s to my doctorates, not a single person had ever commented on my accent. French had become a second native tongue to me. And even if my French were the most awkward, textbook-recited version imaginable, it was still leagues better than the word salad she had just produced. I opened my mouth to retort, but the host eagerly cut me off, casting a look of pity in my direction. “Alright, alright, let’s put the language debate aside for now.” “Ms. Scott, let’s talk about your field of study, shall we? As a media professional myself, I’m practically a colleague. I’m especially curious about how one earns a PhD in Film Directing.” I frowned, confused. My resume was crystal clear, my objective stated in black and white: “Venture Capital and Strategic Analysis.” Film directing was completely irrelevant. Was the host illiterate, or was this a deliberate trap? Though the question was a bizarre pivot, I nodded politely, intending to briefly explain that the directing degree was a personal passion project. The moment I nodded, however, the host pounced like a shark that smells blood. “Excellent! Since you’re such an expert in directing, why don’t you tell us about a cinematic masterpiece!” He leaned forward, his eyes gleaming. “For example, tell us about Jean-Luc Godard’s classic, The 400 Blows.” I froze again, this time genuinely stunned. Had French film history been rewritten in the short time I’d been away? The sheer absurdity of the moment temporarily eclipsed my anger. After a moment’s hesitation, I decided to answer honestly. “I’m not familiar with a version of The 400 Blows directed by Godard. I have, however, seen his film Breathless, which I could discuss…” My words were cut off by the host’s exaggerated gasp. He stared at me, his eyes wide with theatrical shock. “You have a PhD in directing, and you haven’t seen it? How is that possible?” He turned to the audience, spreading his hands in a gesture of profound disappointment. “Ladies and gentlemen, I hate to be the one to call someone out on this stage, but Ms. Scott’s performance forces me to question just how much of her expertise is real!” “In fact,” he declared, his voice rising, “I’m beginning to question the authenticity of her degrees altogether!” Before I could defend myself, he signaled excitedly to a stagehand, who brought out the certified copies of my diplomas I had submitted. He passed them down to Victoria. “Victoria, you’re our resident authority on French education. Please, take a look at these and tell us what you make of Ms. Scott’s so-called doctorates!” Victoria accepted the documents, making a show of scrutinizing them for a long moment. A look of dawning comprehension spread across her face. “I don’t believe these can be considered graduation certificates,” she announced gravely. “The French higher education system is complex, you see. There are many short-term training courses. In my professional opinion, out of all these documents, perhaps only this one, the International Economics and Trade certificate, could be considered a real degree.” “The others,” she finished with a dismissive wave, “look more like certificates of completion from some vocational training program.” I couldn’t believe my ears. My official doctoral diplomas from the Sorbonne, one of the most prestigious universities in the world, were being dismissed as worthless pieces of paper from a trade school? The host fanned the flames, asking loudly and deliberately, “So, Victoria, in your view, what would Ms. Scott’s education be equivalent to here in our country? A bachelor’s degree, perhaps?” Victoria chuckled, the sound dripping with contempt. “A bachelor’s? Oh, no. I doubt it would even qualify as a proper community college degree. At best… a technical school certificate.” She fixed her gaze on me. “Ms. Scott, I have to ask, why would you bring these here to try and deceive us? You’re lucky I was here today. If none of the other bosses understood French education, you might have actually gotten away with it.” Her pronouncement sent a ripple of outrage through the other bosses on the panel. I could no longer contain my anger. “Victoria, you have absolutely no evidence to make such a malicious and defamatory claim about my education!” I shot back, my voice shaking with fury. “If you stand by that statement, I have no problem contacting my supervisor, Professor Olivier, and the administration at the Sorbonne right now. We can call them, live on camera, and verify my credentials!” At my forceful response, a flicker of unease crossed Victoria’s face. But the host saw it as a new opening. “Ms. Scott,” he said, his voice laced with condemnation, “you may not have learned much in the way of skills, but you certainly picked up the foreign habit of arguing senselessly. If you think Europe is so wonderful, why didn’t you stay there and get a high-paying job? Why come running back home to appear on our show?” His words struck me like a physical blow. He was trying to brand me as unpatriotic. If that label stuck, my job prospects wouldn’t just be damaged; my entire future in this country could be jeopardized. I forced myself to remain calm, meeting his malicious gaze head-on. “Where is that accusation coming from? I have never believed that things are better abroad. On the contrary, I chose to return precisely because I saw the incredible growth and energy here, a vitality that far surpasses what I saw in France.” “I believe my skills and knowledge can be of far greater value in my own country. That is how I choose to serve it.” I tried to keep my tone professional, but the host’s sneer was undisguised. “Is that so? Then why is it that throughout this entire conversation, I’ve felt a distinct chill coming from you?” He adopted a pained expression. “I rarely say things like, ‘I think our country is…’ It’s our home. Does it need such a formal, emphasized title? Your deliberate phrasing makes me question where your true loyalties lie.” A wave of helplessness washed over me. I gave up trying to follow his twisted logic and went straight for the flaw in his argument. “I’m not sure I follow. In a formal setting, isn’t using the country’s official name a sign of respect? It’s a common courtesy, just as I use formal titles when addressing you.” “Do you really refer to it as ‘my motherland’ in every single conversation? By your logic, is everyone who uses polite and formal language unpatriotic?” The host’s face tightened. He was clearly unprepared for me to turn his own absurd reasoning against him. He was momentarily speechless. After an awkward silence, he simply bulldozed past the point, shifting his attack to my attitude. “Ms. Scott, that tone you just used—there’s that chill again.” “From the moment you stepped onto this stage, you’ve approached every question with a kind of hostility. This is a job interview, not a debate competition!” I stared at him, incredulous. He was completely rewriting reality. From the very beginning, he and Victoria had been the ones setting traps, hurling insults, and dripping with aggression. “I honestly don’t know how to respond to that,” I said, my voice strained. “Perhaps you could enlighten me. Since I’ve been on this stage, how many of the questions you and Victoria have asked have had anything to do with my qualifications for a job?” “Aren’t you the ones who have been constantly interrupting me, questioning me, and trying to slander my name?” Seeing me challenge the show’s integrity, a flash of fury crossed the host’s eyes. He would not be questioned by a mere applicant. He suddenly raised his voice, drowning me out. “Alright! Ms. Scott, we have given you more than enough time! Your personal feelings are not the focus of this program! We have many other talented candidates waiting!” He turned to the panel. “And now, I ask our esteemed bosses to make their final choice for this… unprofessional overseas graduate!” Almost before he finished speaking, the lights on the bosses’ panels went out. One by one, with brutal, decisive clicks. The host turned back to me, a triumphant smirk plastered on his face. “What a shame, Ms. Scott. It seems no one is willing to make you an offer. Please exit the stage.” I left the studio in a daze, wondering if I had been insane to ever trust such a sham of a program. Fortunately, my actual qualifications and expertise spoke for themselves. I was soon hired by a top-tier international trade firm that dealt primarily with French markets. Within weeks, I had secured several major contracts, proving my worth with tangible results. The unpleasant memory of the show began to fade. Just as I thought the whole affair was behind me, a friendly colleague approached me, her face etched with concern. “Sophie,” she said, her voice full of sympathy. “You need to go online. Right now. I think… I think you’ve gone viral.”

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In the office, the boss was discussing with HR in Korean: “Let Vice President Willa resign voluntarily before International Women’s Day. It can save fifty dollars in holiday gifts.” “If she refuses to leave, block her reimbursements. Her grandfather has a tumor and needs money badly.” I clenched the contract in my hand. They didn’t know—I had taught myself Korean and had long reached level T5. Since they are so ruthless, I don’t need to be polite anymore. It’s time to take the core technology and start my own business… 1 After the morning meeting, I walked out of the boss’s office. Thinking back to how they discussed firing me in Korean right in front of me, treating me like a fool, they were probably still smug about tricking me, right? It’s laughable that they didn’t know I had already taught myself Korean to T5 level! I knew all their schemes. Passing by the break room, I suddenly heard people discussing me inside. “Director Lee from the tech department left to start his own business. Why didn’t he take Willa, whom he relied on the most?” “Why else? Willa has no ability and no value, right? The new company didn’t want her. Only our boss is kind enough to let her stay in the company and leech off.” Listening to the slander inside, anger rose in my heart, but I couldn’t refute it. Could I rush in and shout loudly: Director Lee invited me privately before he left, offering me a monthly salary of $5,000 and the position of tech director, but I rejected it? Then I heard them continue: “If she has no ability, why is she so aggressive every day? Daring to challenge the boss?” “That’s why she’s still single at 35. What man can stand her…” “Do you know what’s the funniest part? A few days ago, I heard from the HR director that Willa, a vice president, has been with the company for 6 years and her salary is only $1,500! Haha, the new employees I recruited this year have a monthly salary of $2,000.” $1,500? $2,000? Hearing this accidentally, I was furious. The company strictly prohibits employees from discussing salaries with each other. I have adhered to this rule for so many years, but I didn’t expect to be exploited by the boss to this extent! Thinking of the new employees in the tech department who knew nothing, only knew how to leech, yet had a higher monthly salary than me, a vice president, I couldn’t bear it anymore and wanted to rush to the boss’s office to question him. My angry steps suddenly stopped. After a long while, I sighed dejectedly and walked back to my desk with heavy steps. What’s the use of making a scene? The boss and directors had long suspected that I was a mole left by Director Lee and couldn’t wait to kick me out. But I didn’t want to leave this company. 2 Although I was ostracized after Director Lee left, and the boss cut my salary and suppressed me, this company had one advantage that other companies couldn’t match. Less than 500 meters east of here is the city’s most famous cancer hospital, where my grandfather is undergoing long-term treatment. It is the critical moment of treatment now, convenient for me to go over and take care of him after work. And I must ensure a fixed income, and I cannot let my grandfather know that I am about to lose my job, otherwise he will definitely refuse to accept the expensive treatment plan. This is why I didn’t leave with Director Lee when he invited me with a high salary. After Director Lee resigned, I took over the unfinished project team. From market research to planning to three sets of proposals, even the final event host script was written by me. The final draft submitted last week was unanimously approved by the board of directors. Once implemented, it can bring at least ten million in profit to the company. I thought these could win back the boss’s trust, and the value I created was enough to raise my salary partly. But today the boss discussed forcing me to resign with the HR director in Korean in front of me, just to save $50 in holiday fees! I have worked conscientiously for six years, bringing at least ten million in profit to the company, yet I don’t deserve a ridiculous $50! In that case, don’t blame me for being impolite. There are three days left before International Women’s Day, enough for me to prepare a big gift for them. Just as I was planning to counterattack the boss, I was called to the boss’s office again. “Willa, this is Dr. Zhao, who returned from overseas. He will be responsible for leading the overall work of the tech department in the future. He is not very familiar with our company yet, you have to cooperate with him well.” This is stealing my thunder! The project that no one was optimistic about after Director Lee left was thrown to me. I worked overtime alone for a month, and unexpectedly it passed the board’s decision and became the company’s leading project this year. Now that the plan is about to be implemented, I am suddenly kicked out and replaced? The boss spoke straightforwardly, not caring about my feelings at all, nor did he communicate with me, the vice president of the tech department, in advance. The grievances and exclusion I suffered in the past month surged into my heart instantly. I could endure their whispering and pointing behind my back, pretending not to know. I just played dumb when they created groups and established new R&D teams behind my back. They took away the planning proposal just passed, and I chose to swallow my pride seeing the situation was unclear. Now they are pushing their luck! Thinking I am a soft persimmon, they can manipulate me as they please, not treating me as a human at all. If this goes on, anyone can step on me. Losing power, my plan will be difficult to implement! 3 I said euphemistically: “Boss, since you think he is not familiar enough with the company, shouldn’t you not arrange him in the position of tech director?” “Technology leads the market! This is what you have emphasized repeatedly. The importance of the tech department is evident. Is it a bit trifling for you to let a 28-year-old young man who just came out of school be the tech director?” If the boss hired a tech director with qualifications far superior to mine from outside with a high salary, I would have nothing to say and step aside obediently. But Dr. Zhao is a novice, just because he is the boss’s nephew, he wants to stand on my head and dictate to me! Sorry, I can’t accept it! The boss was also annoyed by my questioning that didn’t give him face: “Little Zhao is a Ph.D. from Yale University, much more capable than you, a master from a domestic university! Little Zhao won many planning awards when he was still in school, with a flexible mind and extraordinary talent!” “I’m just notifying you about this, not asking for your opinion. Just cooperate well with the work! Get out.” I sneered. What gold content do school planning awards have? I also won a state-level design award during my school days. Anger surged, but after a while I held it back. For the plan in my heart, I can’t flip the table directly, can’t let the boss detect that he is about to lose all this. Yes, I didn’t plan to leave with resentment, but planned to make the boss and a group of parasites here get out in disgrace! Although I am not a top student from Harvard or MIT, my mentor is also a top figure in the field of food additives. Although retired, his students are everywhere. My senior fellow apprentice sister opened a food additive company—ZEUS, which became the industry leader with my mentor’s patented technology. It is the ZEUS Group President who is currently discussing acquisition with the boss. And I have long been promised by the senior sister to be the executive director of the branch company! Since the boss likes laying off staff before International Women’s Day so much, I will satisfy his last preference. Will he be very happy to receive the dismissal notice on International Women’s Day? 4 I stayed here to select talents for the establishment of the new company. Now this timing is suitable for me to see clearly the warmth and coldness of human feelings. Therefore, I absolutely cannot announce this news now. I pretended to compromise: “Boss, I have been with the company for 6 years, and I also led the planning of a big project this year. Can I get a raise?” The boss was stunned, seemingly not expecting me to make such a request: “Raise? Didn’t I raise your salary by $20 every year? Why didn’t I raise it for you this year? How did Little Liu handle things? Go call her!” Looking at the boss’s matter-of-fact look, I was angry enough to laugh. “Boss, you don’t think $20 a year is a lot, do you? Should I be grateful and devoted to you for this paltry sum?” “Don’t play dumb with me. Although it is strictly forbidden to inquire about other people’s salary income within the company, I still understand the general salary status of our food additive industry. I have been in the industry for 10 years and with you for 6 years. Asking for a salary of $2,500 is not excessive!” The boss laughed loudly: “$2,500? Based on you, an ordinary master’s student? Or based on you being the apprentice of a traitor? Weigh yourself piece by piece to see if you are worth this money! Do it if you want, get out if you don’t!” The boss’s straightforward “look down” made my face turn green and white. Dr. Zhao also looked me up and down with critical eyes. In their eyes, I seemed like a clown at this moment! I pretended to swallow my pride and left the office, but the boss misunderstood that I was afraid and laughed arrogantly behind my back. “Haha, still dare to clamor with me! Little Zhao, did you see? Dealing with such old employees requires being tough! A bunch of cowards who bully the weak and fear the strong!” “I suppressed her arrogance for you today. Arrange heavy and tiring work for her in the future. You just need to grasp the general direction! If she dares to disobey, tell me, I have plenty of ways to punish her!” “Just an old woman nobody wants. Her previous leader didn’t take her when he went out to open a company. I gave her a meal and she didn’t know how to be grateful, and dared to bark at me, humph!” Because of this scene, the whole company knew that I had become a marginalized person. Those who used to curry favor with me because of my outstanding ability retreated one after another, all pretending not to know me well, afraid of being implicated and leaving a bad impression in the boss’s heart. I sneered in my heart: A group of snobs! You tried every way to curry favor, but in the end your fate will be just like mine. Relationship hires can be parachuted in anytime! These people will not be within the selection scope of my new company. Just as I was sorting out the usual attendance and overtime records, finance suddenly called: “Little Wang, your reimbursement materials for last month are unqualified and cannot be reimbursed.” Little Wang? So I’m not Director Wang anymore? It seems that those hitting a person when they’re down have come. 5 Because of work reasons, the finance manager had many conflicts with me. Before, I was valued by the leadership and made him suffer many times. This time can be considered a turn of fortune. I took a deep breath and went to the finance office. “Manager Sun, where are the reimbursement materials unqualified? I’ll fix it.” The finance manager glanced at me and took my pile of reimbursement forms. “Logistics personnel do not have gas subsidies. Before, your tech department Director Lee abused his power and approved your gas fee reimbursement. From now on, everything will follow the rules and regulations, so this $50 gas fee cannot be reimbursed!” I said angrily: “This is the gas money I spent going to City K to deliver materials for the boss. It belongs to official business travel. Why can’t it be reimbursed?” The finance manager sneered: “You say it is, so it is? Who knows if you used the public car for private purposes?” I retorted: “I usually only ride an electric scooter to work! Besides, the key to the public car is in the administration’s hands. How do I have the chance to use it privately?” The finance manager threw the pile of reimbursement forms disdainfully. “I say it can’t be reimbursed means it can’t. If you have the ability, go find the boss to sign! Or… heh, your new tech director signing is also fine. Go back and fill out the reimbursement form again, hand it over before off work, no waiting after time!” After speaking, he looked at me mockingly, his eyes clearly saying: “I’m just making things difficult for you, what can you do to me? Who can you find to help you?” I went to find the boss angrily. Now the new company has not been established yet, and grandpa needs a large amount of medical expenses every day. Every penny of mine must be spent wisely. “Boss, please sign to reimburse the money for gas for my business trip last month.” The boss took the form and frowned: “What gas fee do you need to report? How come I don’t remember arranging a business trip for you?” I reminded him coldly: “Last Saturday of last month, I was accompanying my grandfather for chemotherapy in the hospital. You called me to immediately go to City K to deliver a document to the client! I drove there, and brought drunk you back at 12 am.” The boss suddenly realized: “Oh, there was such a thing.” Saying that, he picked up a pen and pretended to sign: “But Little Wang, I remember our company’s reimbursement rule is no overdue reimbursement, right? These are expenses from last month. Signing for you will make it difficult for finance.” I didn’t expect reimbursing a mere $50 expense would be so troublesome! At this moment, I completely gave up on this company and the boss, wishing to make him get lost immediately! The evidence I organized is enough to ruin his reputation. Presumably, he is still fantasizing about becoming a major shareholder of ZEUS Group, right? It doesn’t matter, there are three days left, I endure.

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After my mother passed away, I couldn’t move on for a long time. Until one day, I saw the diary she left behind. It read: “My dear daughter.” “If you don’t know how to live.” “Then let Mom help you one last time.” 1 After Mom passed away. I was listless for a long time. More than once, I wanted to jump off that mountain. But Mom was the wind before the mountain. Again and again, blowing me back to the safe zone. … At 1:00 AM, I arrived home. When I opened the door, Dad was the same as usual. Thumb and index finger weakly pinching a glass, pouring alcohol into his stomach. I couldn’t help but think, after Mom left. Besides me, the one who couldn’t move on was Dad. But neither of us learned how to hide our emotions. Just like now, he wanted to present the image of a playful dad welcoming his daughter home for the holidays. But what I saw was. A miserable man with tear streaks on his face, forcing a smile. He hung the corners of his mouth by his ears, smiling. Looking at me helplessly, waiting for a hug. I also forced a smile like him. Then put down my schoolbag, stepped forward, and hugged him tightly. He said: “Jenny, have you eaten?” “I’ll cook you a pack of noodles.” Saying that, he let go of me and went to the kitchen. Then reached out to open the top cabinet in the kitchen. I watched from afar; inside was a row of instant noodles. And by the induction cooker, there were a few wrappers and noodle crumbs. Thinking about it, all these days alone, he just made do like this. This is the first Christmas after Mom left. Too lonely, too bleak. Without her, we can’t live well at all. I couldn’t hold it back; tears dripped onto the floor like a faucet. And my dad seemed a bit drunk; not only did he not notice my emotions. He accidentally pulled down a stack of bowls and plates. The sound of shattering porcelain instantly scared my tears back. I ran to my dad; the back of his hand was scratched. Blood flowed onto… Flowed onto a diary. I was stunned. A diary? 2 My mom’s name was Connie. She graduated from elementary school. She knew quite a few words. But there were still typos. The names she noted in her contacts. Many were written phonetically. For example, Aunt Huiqin from the vegetable market. She wrote “Rotten Tree” (sounds like Huiqin in Chinese dialect, implying her vegetables are expensive). Aunt Xiuli from the supermarket. She wrote “Pig Heart” (sounds like Xiuli, noting she was fierce to Jenny, won’t buy from her again). Wang Guifang, whom she got along well with. She noted “Wang Beautiful” (Jenny likes her, I like her too). Every time I saw her contacts, I wanted to laugh. But every time I saw her note for me, I wanted to cry. She wrote: Jenny Miller “Connie’s Good Daughter” “My Favorite” At the very end, there were three little hearts. And now, I was holding a diary in my hand. It was all handwritten by her. On the cover was a paragraph. “To Jenny” “My dear daughter.” “If you don’t know how to live.” “Then let Mom help you one last time.” This diary was thick. I flipped through it roughly; every page was full. And the handwriting was very neat. No typos, no content crossed out by ink. She probably guessed that I always disliked messy notebooks. Naturally, I would like the diary to be clean and tidy too. So she secretly practiced for a long time. For a moment, my eyes stung unbearably. To control my emotions, I put the diary away. Then helped my dad to the living room. Bandaged his wound. 3 2:00 AM. My dad fell asleep in the living room. I lay in the bedroom. Never daring to open that diary. Finally, with no other way. I mimicked how Mom was when she was alive. Put on yellow rubber gloves, put on an apron. Cleaned the whole house from top to bottom. To distract myself. I remember, she did this every few days before Christmas. The sofa, she had to pull it out to clean the trash deep inside. Pots and pans, all had to be scrubbed. Bedding and covers, must change to clean, newly bought ones. She said new year, new atmosphere, everything must start anew. Whether annoying or happy. All left in the last year. The new year must welcome new changes. She also said. Whether sad or painful. Whether happy or lucky. We must accept it calmly. Everything must look forward. Yes. I have to accept the fact that she has left. After cleaning all this up. It was already morning. My dad hadn’t woken up yet. And I had already put on a thick coat and went to the supermarket. In previous years, Mom and I went to buy Spring Festival couplets (decorations) together. She always picked and chose, saying this meaning wasn’t as good as that one. Saying that one didn’t fit the artistic conception of next year. Every time, she would choose for half a day. But now, I stood in front of the grandpa selling couplets. Not knowing what to choose. They all looked the same. Glaring red. Especially the words “Family Reunion.” Even more glaring. Finally, just like I used to fudge my homework. Picked a pair randomly. After buying, I couldn’t help thinking of her again. This time with a bit of blame. I couldn’t help complaining in my heart. Look, Mom. I haven’t grown into an adult yet. Don’t even know how to choose couplets. Blame you, left too early. Didn’t have time to teach me. Later, when I walked around the market, I realized. Mom didn’t teach me more than just how to choose couplets. How to buy the sweetest watermelon in winter. How to buy the freshest vegetables in the market. How to bargain with those aunts and uncles. She didn’t teach me any of it. Even the fastest route home. She never mentioned it. Otherwise. Why is the road ahead getting blurrier the more I walk? 4 When I got home, Dad was still a bit hungover. He looked at me carrying big and small bags. Instantly sobered up. Without even putting on shoes properly, he took the things from my hands. After putting things away, he came back and stroked my hands frozen red with heartache. He said: “Blame me, drank too much again.” “Tired? Hungry? Daddy cook you a pack of noodles?” After speaking, guilt appeared in his eyes. I saw the corner of his mouth twitch. Then explained. “Sorry, Daddy only knows how to cook noodles.” I nodded. Yes. Dad only knows how to cook noodles and make money. Mom took care of us too well. So, after she left. Our sky. Collapsed. I shook my head, told Dad I ate at the market just now. Then went to the kitchen. Just like in the early morning. I picked up the apron. Imagining Mom’s appearance. Kneading dough. Chopping filling. Making dumplings. Trying to keep myself busy. Let myself forget the diary Mom left behind. That was my only thought. I wanted to wait for a solemn time to open it. Because it said. “To Jenny.” “My dear daughter.” “If you don’t know how to live.” “Then let Mom help you one last time.” I thought, I can’t disappoint Mom. I can’t let her know that I’m not living well. 5 (Note: Numbering restarted in source text, continuing sequentially here) But, I was a bit lousy. That solemn time. Came so lightly. After I failed to knead the dough countless times. I suddenly missed her like crazy. Why could she mix flour and water so harmoniously? While I made this pile of stuff look like rotten mud every time. Why could she do everything so well? And I can’t even knead dough. Do I not deserve to be her daughter? Should I be the one with cancer? Should that last diary be written by me? The more I thought, the more twisted my state of mind became. Until my eyes fell on the kitchen knife on the board. My red eyes widened instantly. Guess I was silent for a long time. My dad ran in. He came just in time. Blood hadn’t flowed too much yet. My consciousness was also clear enough. Could still hear him calling my name. Could also hear the sound of the ambulance. And. In a trance. I seemed to hear Mom say. “Silly child.” “Why so clumsy? Can’t even knead dough?” “Be good, Mom teach you.” 6 Yeah. Mom. I’m too clumsy. Come back and teach me. 7 The doctor pulled my dad to the hallway entrance. He said I had depression and suicidal tendencies. Then the doctor glanced at me guardedly. Pulled my dad into another room. They were discussing my condition. I imagined, would my dad collapse? Wife died of cancer. Daughter got depression. Would he find it harder to accept things? I imagined him crying and complaining in front of the doctor. But I suddenly couldn’t empathize. I only felt the birds outside the window were very free. I was a bit happy, then smiled. At dusk. I finally couldn’t bear the longing for her. Opened the first page of the diary. I was afraid, if I didn’t open it now. There would be no chance to open it.

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My mother was the neighborhood’s most celebrated stepmother. She treated my stepfather’s three children better than she ever treated me. It was a well-known fact. Once, when all four of us had the flu, she was so terrified of neighbor gossip that she only gave the medication to them, leaving me to suffer and shake it off on my own. She would smooth my hair back countless times, her eyes full of a pleading sadness. “Cass, being a stepmother is impossible. I can’t slight them, or the whole town will carve up my reputation.” “You understand your mother, don’t you?” I understood. So many times. And each time, I swallowed the humiliation down to the back of my throat, where it hardened into a stone. That stone finally cracked when we were caught in a torrential downpour and had to pull over to the side of the highway to avoid a ticket. Just like she always did, Mom told me to get out and wait for the rain to let up. I stood frozen. I couldn’t move, and she knew why. After my stepbrother Garrett hit me while reversing his truck, my leg had been permanently damaged. I couldn’t walk for more than half an hour without searing pain. Mom’s patience snapped. She yanked me by the arm, dragging me out of the vehicle. “Don’t be stubborn, Cass! Try to be reasonable for once!” “Find a spot to take cover. Wait for the rain to stop and then hurry home.” I stood paralyzed in the deluge. This house, this life, wasn’t what I wanted. The downpour didn’t stop. The street water had already risen to my knees. I stumbled again and again into the deep puddles. The city streetlights cast a blurry, weak glow on the pitch-black night. “Cass?” 1 “Cass?” As I fell into the churning water yet again, Mom—umbrella in hand—sprinted toward me. She was always like this. I couldn’t bring myself to fully love her. But I couldn’t bring myself to fully hate her either. Her small frame looked like a scrap of paper in the wild wind, and she was nearly blown over into the floodwater. Rain smeared my vision. It wasn’t until she reached my side that her face and voice snapped into clear focus. She struggled to pull me from the slick, icy water, recognizing the resentment etched on my face. With a familiar, weary sigh, she began her usual lecture. “I know you’re upset. But what choice do I have, honey?” “You’re my biological daughter. They’re not. If I show even the slightest bit of unfairness to them, the whole world will know. How am I supposed to live with that judgment?” “I know you’ve suffered. I’m so sorry.” Her voice cracked on the last two sentences. It was heavy with the frustration of being misunderstood and the inescapable burdens of a stepmother. I said nothing. She helped me hobble back to that house. The dinner table held only scraps and cold leftovers. Even the ginger tea Mom had made to ward off my cold had been entirely consumed. Worse, they had poured the last bit into the cat’s bowl, just to make sure none was left for me. My two stepsisters, Brielle and Delaney, and my stepbrother, Garrett, never liked me. To my face, they were vaguely polite, mostly indifferent. But behind my back, they called me a pathetic leech, a tolerated guest, only fit to be their cleaning lady—less important than the furniture. They didn’t particularly like my mother either, but they reveled in all the concessions she made for them. My stepfather, Malcolm Shaw, sat in the living room watching TV. He didn’t spare either of us a glance, only offering a perfunctory, “You’re back.” He was always polite to me—no fighting, no yelling, no questions asked. He treated me like a distant relative, an acquaintance. But my mother loved him. She loved him fiercely. Even through all the compromises and suffering, she saw it as the necessary friction of building a happy family. Her love for him was why she’d divorced my biological father, giving up everything and taking me with her, the moment she learned Malcolm’s first wife had passed. She always said Malcolm was her first love. If not for her parents’ disapproval, their romance wouldn’t have been so tumultuous. Her deep, enduring love for him was the reason she went to such extremes for his three children. Mom helped me into the bathroom to take a hot shower. She brought me a glass of hot water. My stomach was rumbling. I was about to open my mouth and say, Mom, I’m starving. But she spoke first. “It’s late, Cass. Drink this water to settle your stomach. Your sister, Delaney, has terrible anxiety and her room is right next to the kitchen.” “She can’t tolerate the slightest noise. I’ll wake up early tomorrow and make breakfast.” The words died on my tongue. Since becoming a stepmother, she was a master at considering every single person in the house. Except me. 2 Her devotion to her role, her fear of being judged, dictated everything. I had been accepted to a prestigious state university. But Brielle cut off the celebration with a single demand: “None of us went to college. If Cass goes, we each deserve to be compensated for what we missed out on. You owe us all a college fund payout.” “Otherwise, we’ll know you, the stepmother, are playing favorites!” It didn’t matter that my tuition didn’t require Malcolm’s money. Mom’s salary alone was enough to cover my schooling. But for the sake of “fairness,” and because she couldn’t afford Brielle’s demand, she came to me weeping, begging: “Cass, you’re so smart. You’ll make it even without a degree.” “You love writing, don’t you? Why not try writing your novel full-time? Maybe that’s your best path.” That was the first time I truly fought back. I broke down, screaming until my voice was raw: “They didn’t go to college because they weren’t smart enough to get in!” “Why can’t I use my own mother’s money to go? Even if you won’t help, I can take out student loans!” But no matter how much I pleaded, Mom only cried with that same helpless, defeated expression. She even fell to her knees, hitting herself across the face. That was when I learned Delaney’s cat had shredded my acceptance letter. Mom begged me not to make a scene, pleaded with me not to tear apart the fragile family unity she’d fought so hard to build. I never made it to college. And not long after, I lost my chance at a future, and I lost my leg. Even when Garrett, driving without a license, reversed right into me and shattered my leg, she wouldn’t let me report it. She was terrified I’d make a big deal of it, that Garrett would go to jail, and that her perfect family would crumble. She threatened to kill herself if I called the police. She called this family her entire life, claiming Garrett was practically her own flesh and blood. If he went to prison because of me, she said, not only would he hate her, but it would destroy her relationship with Malcolm. After that final, crushing despair, I realized the absolute truth: she wasn’t their stepmother. She had utterly and completely become mine. The next day, I woke up with a bad cold and a spiking fever. My limbs were weak and heavy. Mom briefly checked on me early in the morning. She hastily put a hot mug of milk and a omelette egg on my nightstand. Seeing how high my fever was, she added a bottle of Advil. She was in such a rush. So rushed that she didn’t even look me in the eye when she spoke. “Cass, I’m heading to work now. Try to sleep it off. The fever will break soon. The house is on you.” I was the only “idle” one at home. Since the accident, being disabled meant I couldn’t find a suitable job. So, aside from writing my novels, I was in charge of the entire family’s cooking, cleaning, and laundry. Around noon, my phone pinged with messages. In the family group chat, Delaney messaged first, tagging me: Hey, little sis. I’m craving those stuffed bell peppers tonight. Five minutes later, Brielle tagged me: Cassidy, can you make that roasted chicken dish? The one you made last time was actually decent. Half an hour after that, Garrett tagged me: Little sis, can you make the pot roast? And throw in a couple of side salads. Thanks. Working hard. He followed the message with a digital payment. It was always five dollars and an emoji—a measly amount that was meant to feel like a handout. This time, I knew it would be the same. I didn’t collect the money. I didn’t reply to anyone. After spending the morning researching urban areas, I booked the cheapest train ticket I could find to Riverton, a city three states away. The departure date was three mornings from now. I spent the entire afternoon writing a final, long letter to my mother. With every word I wrote, the bonds of family pulled at my heart, making my eyes sting with unshed tears. 3 When night fell, my fever spiked again. I huddled under my blankets, shivering uncontrollably. At some point, the front door opened. A torrent of complaints immediately flooded the small apartment. “Why is it pitch black in here? Is Cass not home?” “What time is it? The kitchen is cold and empty. No dinner made.” “What is this, a strike? Who managed to piss off the little princess this time?” Mom and Malcolm had returned. The complaints from the three siblings grew louder and more frantic. “I worked all day! I’m exhausted, and I can’t even get a hot meal!” “What is her problem? If she doesn’t want to do it, she should just say so!” “Isn’t she supposed to be a part of this family? We all have jobs! It’s her responsibility. She can’t even manage dinner!” Delaney’s voice suddenly grew shrill and furious: “The laundry isn’t done! The clothes aren’t washed, not even the delicates! You can’t leave underwear sitting that long; it’s unsanitary! Mom, you need to talk to your daughter! What is she trying to do?” “I just bought that new lace thong—thirty dollars—and only wore it once. Now how am I supposed to wear it?” Mom, ever the peacemaker, tried to soothe them with her usual soft voice: “Cass didn’t do it on purpose. She’s probably not feeling well. I’ll go check on her.” Malcolm also offered a performative, conciliatory line: “Alright, everyone, calm down.” Mom hurried into my cramped room. When she flipped the light switch, the sudden, harsh glare illuminated the dark room. I was still lying there, semiconscious from the fever. “Cassidy, what’s going on? Are you not feeling well?” Beneath her concern, I could hear a definite tone of accusation. She pulled back the blanket from my head and instinctively reached out to check my temperature. “You’re running a fever again. Did you take the medicine?” “Yes,” I answered flatly. Garrett’s voice carried clearly from the doorway: “Mom, what are we eating tonight? I’m starving.” The flicker of worry on Mom’s face vanished as she rushed to appease him: “What do you want? I’ll make it right now.” Brielle grumbled, “It’s already so late. We’ll be eating dinner at midnight if you cook now.” Mom quickly offered a placating suggestion: “Tell you what. How about we all go out for barbecue? Garrett, didn’t you say you were craving brisket? My treat tonight.” The tension in the air evaporated instantly. They all cheered up, eager to drag Mom out to a restaurant. Malcolm gave a token gesture of concern: “Cass, are you going to join us?” Delaney’s voice was dripping with passive aggression: “She’s not feeling well, is she? Sick people usually don’t have an appetite. If she wants to go out for barbecue, it means she’s faking it.” And so, I was abandoned again. An outsider. Unsuitable for their family dinner. My tears, uncooperative, soaked the pillow again. My mind couldn’t help but flash back to ten years ago, before Mom remarried, to the way she loved me then. She used to hold me in her palm, terrified of dropping me. She kept me so close, afraid I would melt away. I had to face the reality. She was no longer just my mother. They returned after eating their fill. My stomach ached from hunger, and I was curled up beneath my covers. Mom placed a mug of milk on my nightstand again. Perhaps anticipating my anger, she spoke in a soft, coaxing tone, like one might use for a difficult child: “Once you’re better, I’ll take you out for barbecue too.” It was always wait, wait, wait. Brielle fed the dried strawberries I bought to the dog; she said she’d buy me more next time. Delaney took the dress I saved my meager earnings to buy and wore it without asking; she said she’d buy me a replacement next time. Garrett took the laptop I bought for my writing and used it for gaming; he promised me a new one next time. But, Mom, your “next time” was always a hollow lie. 4 I didn’t speak. She reached through the blanket and gently stroked my head. “My own daughter is the best. You always understand me. My Cass, you’re so mature.” She paused, sighing with a sense of noble suffering: “Being a stepmother is so hard. I’m truly relieved you understand.” But for every ounce of relief you felt, Mom, I felt an equal measure of heartache. Two days later, my fever finally broke. I felt well enough to move. Tomorrow, I would be leaving. I looked at the few, old clothes in my closet. I realized I didn’t have much to pack. It was the weekend, and they were all home. They were in the living room, discussing Garrett’s impending wedding. I didn’t join them, but I sensed the heavy atmosphere. Malcolm was saying, “The down payment for the new house is at least sixty thousand. Your mother and I barely have enough saved to cover it.” “The ring and the dowry gifts are another forty thousand. You three are siblings, you should pitch in and help.” Brielle spoke up first: “I don’t have much saved up. I can only manage five thousand.” Delaney reluctantly followed: “I only have five thousand, too.” Then, she deliberately raised her voice, directing it toward my room: “Don’t we have a writer in the house? Tapping away at her keyboard all day. I’m sure she’s sitting on plenty of cash.” Her tone was utterly sarcastic. She was the one who previously mocked me, saying my writing income wasn’t even enough to pay for my cat food. Mom, swayed by her words, came into my room, tears welling up in her eyes. “Cass, being a stepmother is hard. I have to help Garrett with his wedding. You’re his sister, and we’re family.” “Could you spare some of your royalty money? We can consider it a loan. Please?” Every time she used my money to bail out the three of them, she called it a loan. She never paid it back. “I don’t have much in royalties. It’s barely two thousand a month, and it’s not stable. It’s barely enough for me.” “Little sis, we’re family. Stop hiding it. I don’t believe you only make two thousand a month. Unless you show us your accounts.” Brielle had materialized, leaning against the door frame. Malcolm and the others followed, their eyes all fixed on me, judging. To appease them, Mom looked me in the eye and demanded: “Show me your accounts.” To finally shut them down, I logged into my bank account and my publishing dashboard, showing them the numbers. Once they confirmed my income was indeed pitifully low, their eyes filled with scorn. Delaney jeered: “You don’t have the talent to make a living as a writer. Honestly, you’re just dreaming in broad daylight!” Since I was leaving permanently tomorrow, I didn’t waste my breath arguing. They went back to discussing Garrett’s finances. In the end, Mom and Malcolm decided to take out a twenty-thousand-dollar loan to bridge the gap. Next was the issue of the wedding jewelry. Mom went to a cabinet and pulled out the vintage gold bracelet my biological father had left me. She also took out a small, two-ounce gold ingot. My father had given them to me when I was thirteen. Mom had told me I was too young and promised to keep them safe until I was an adult. But now, she said: “We’ll take these to be traded for the new jewelry. Gold prices are high right now. Buying them new is too expensive.” A furious heat instantly rose in me. I scrambled forward to grab them back. “That’s what my father left me! You have no right to give my property to him!” Mom was stunned by my reaction and chastised me with an annoyed tone: “I’ll buy you new ones later, Cass. Your brother’s wedding is an emergency, a huge deal!” She didn’t give the gold back, handing it directly to Garrett. She rushed him: “Go trade these now! Hurry!” I lunged to snatch them back, but Mom pinned me down. “Cassidy Jennings, will you please just be sensible!” I completely shattered. All the stored-up resentment erupted into pure rage. I screamed at her through my tears: “You are not their stepmother, Elaine! You are mine!” “I hate you. If you give my father’s things to him today, you won’t have a daughter anymore!” Mom froze. Then, a heavy slap landed across my cheek, followed by a roar of pure fury: “Get out! Get out and never come back!” I didn’t hesitate. I grabbed my laptop bag and limped out the door. Behind me, I heard her final attempt to control me: “If you walk out that door, you’re never coming back!” She didn’t know: that was exactly my plan. It took three days for Mom to lose her composure and call my phone. The only reply was the standard “this number is out of service” message. She instantly panicked. At that moment, Malcolm rushed into the house, frantic: “There’s a girl hit by a car down at the complex entrance! They can’t make out her face, but she’s a—she’s on crutches, and everyone is saying it’s Cass! You need to go check, right now!”

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1 I was at the airport to pick up my husband when I ran into him: Preston Zhou, the man who’d left me at the altar two years ago to go see elephants in Africa with his adoptive sister. Even with my sunglasses on, he spotted me in the crowd instantly. “Arabella, I’m back. I’m here to marry you.” I feigned a moment of confusion. “I’m sorry, you are…?” He let out a weary, indulgent smile. “Come on, don’t be mad at me. I didn’t mean to run out for so long. After Mary saw the elephants, she wanted to do a whole photography project. She’s the only sister I’ve got, I had to spoil her a little.” “But look,” he said, spreading his arms wide, “the two-year shoot is done, and I came straight back to fulfill our engagement!” It was only then, seeing the flash of his startlingly white teeth against his sun-darkened skin, that I recognized the gaunt, skinny man in front of me. It was my ex-fiancé. Except… did no one tell him? The day he jilted me was the day I married his uncle. … The airport terminal was a river of people. Preston pushed a luggage cart with one hand while the other clutched a Chanel bag. Mary, several shades darker herself, was perched on top of a suitcase, letting Preston wheel her around. After two years in Africa, they looked less like they’d been on safari and more like they’d been working in a coal mine. They were both positively grimy. The Preston I remembered had been handsome, fair-skinned, and in great shape. Otherwise, I never would have agreed to the arranged marriage. But this version of him… Thank God he wasn’t my husband. I slid my sunglasses off and offered a polite, distant smile. “My apologies. It’s been a long time. You’ve both changed so much, I didn’t recognize you for a moment.” Mary, as always, dripped with sarcasm. “Don’t pretend you don’t recognize him. You’re obviously here to pick Preston up, aren’t you?” she sneered. “If we hadn’t tossed our SIM cards and cut off all contact with home, you probably would have chased us all the way to Africa!” She huffed and turned her head away. “I really don’t know what he sees in you. A woman who’s nothing but a pretty face.” Preston just ruffled her hair and tapped her nose with a fond, exasperated sigh. “Once Arabella and I are married, she’ll be your sister-in-law. You need to show her some respect. Otherwise, I won’t take you to Europe for your art tour next year.” After placating Mary, he turned to me with an explanatory smile. “She’s just got a childish temper. You know her father, my uncle’s driver, died in the car crash that almost killed me. He saved my life, but she lost her dad.” “When we’re married,” he continued, his tone earnest, “we’ll be a team. I hope you can help me look after her. Treat her like your own sister.” Did he hear the absolute nonsense coming out of his own mouth? I gave him an elegant eye-roll and flashed the wedding band on my left hand. “Preston, I can’t thank you enough for jilting me. It allowed me to marry a man a thousand times better than you. And please, don’t flatter yourself. I’m here today to pick up my husband.” Preston froze. He squinted at me for a long moment, then a smirk spread across his face. “Arabella, do you take me for a fool?” he scoffed. “Our families arranged this marriage. The wedding two years ago was the event of the season, the whole of the city’s elite was there. Everyone knows you’re my fiancée. I was wrong to run off and embarrass you, I admit it. But with your reputation ruined, what other family would possibly have you?” So that was it. The reason he’d felt so comfortable abandoning me was because he was sure I’d be a social pariah, a “jilted woman” with no choice but to take him back. He had seriously overestimated himself. And underestimated me. To clean up his son’s mess, the Zhou family patriarch had lost a son and a significant portion of company shares. To appease my family’s fury, the old man had offered to transfer the shares originally meant for Preston directly to me. Clearly, Preston had no idea. It made sense. He’d spent two years completely off the grid for Mary, not even a single phone call home. Of course he was out of the loop. I almost couldn’t wait for him to get back to the family estate tonight. I wondered if he’d still be smiling then. 2 When our marriage was first proposed, Preston had fought it tooth and nail. But the moment he met me, it was supposedly love at first sight, and he declared he would marry no one else. He pursued me shamelessly for over half a year. Seeing that he was clean-cut and didn’t play around, I finally agreed. Not long after, Mary, his new adoptive sister, entered the picture, and he treated her like a princess. On our wedding day, Preston got a call from her. “Preston,” she’d wailed, “remember your promise? To take me to Africa to see the elephants? I’m at the airport waiting. If you don’t come, I’ll jump off the terminal roof!” Preston had given me one apologetic look, dropped my hand without a second thought, and sprinted away, leaving me and a ballroom full of guests behind. I received two texts from him, and then his phone went dead. [Her father saved my life. Mary is his only daughter. I can’t let anything happen to her!] [Don’t worry. I’ll be back as soon as she sees the elephants. A week at most. We’ll finish the wedding and then go to the Maldives for our honeymoon.] The Zhou patriarch was incandescent with rage. To make it up to my family, he’d made me a promise. “Arabella, this is our family’s failure. Name your compensation, anything you want!” I had pointed to his youngest son, the current head of the Zhou family enterprise, Damian Zhou. “Then give me him,” I’d said. “This wedding is still short one groom.” And just like that, I married Preston’s uncle. Lost in thought, I glanced at the time. Damian’s flight should have landed by now. Just as I was about to check, a message popped up on my phone. [Sweetheart, flight’s delayed. Just boarded. Going to be very late. Don’t wait for me, just have Leo pick me up.] [Love you.] A huge heart emoji followed. A small smile touched my lips, and the tension in my brow eased. Even looking at my infuriating ex-fiancé-turned-nephew became a little more tolerable. Preston crossed his arms, a mocking smile playing on his lips as he eyed my phone. “Oh, who’s the actor you hired? ‘Hubby’? Flight delayed? Really creative.” He leaned in closer. “Arabella, don’t joke like that. You know I get jealous.” As he reached out to tuck a stray strand of my hair behind my ear, I took a sharp step back. His hand froze in mid-air. “I told you, I’m married. If you continue to harass me, you might find yourself with a broken leg when you get home tonight.” Preston laughed as if I’d told the funniest joke. He pointed to my neck. “That emerald pendant you’re wearing… Grandfather said that was to be passed down to the Zhou family brides. You’re wearing it right now and still trying to tell me you married someone else?” The pendant was indeed a gift from the patriarch. Except it wasn’t for his granddaughter-in-law. It was for his daughter-in-law. “I married—” Before I could finish, Mary interrupted. “Is that the Phoenix Emerald?” She hopped off the luggage cart and wedged herself between us. The moment she saw the pendant around my neck, her eyes reddened. She grabbed Preston’s arm, her voice trembling. “Preston, I’ve wanted that pendant for so long. Grandfather would never even let me touch it, and now he’s given it to an outsider. Does… does he not even think of me as part of the family?” Her voice cracked. “But what can I do? I’m just a driver’s daughter. I can’t compare to a blue-blooded heiress like Arabella. Even Grandfather plays favorites.” Preston’s face softened with guilt. He looked at me, a pleading expression in his eyes. “Mary’s young, and she’s had a hard life. She’s always insecure. Just… let her have this one.” “She likes the pendant, so give it to her. I’ll buy you a new one, imperial green jade, I promise. It’ll be even more beautiful, much better quality.” 3 I laughed. An actual, honest-to-god laugh of disbelief. “Preston, I suggest you get your head checked. If I remember correctly, Mary is twenty-five this year. A few months older than me, isn’t she?” “There are two things I can’t stand in this world: giant babies and manipulative little thieves who steal other people’s things. Coincidentally, she’s both.” At my words, Mary’s eyes welled up, tears streaming down her face on command. “Preston will spoil me no matter how old I am! You’re just jealous!” she shrieked. “You haven’t even married him yet! What right does an outsider like you have to wear a Zhou family heirloom? You’re the shameless one!” Technically, Mary was the family’s ward, but she had never been formally adopted, nor was her name in the official family records. Strictly speaking, she was the outsider living in the Zhou home. Preston had once thrown a tantrum, demanding she be made a true Zhou heiress, but the patriarch had flatly refused. Preston had felt guilty about it ever since. Seeing her cry now, his heart ached. He frowned at me. “Mary isn’t like you. She has no parents, only me. Grandfather wouldn’t let her be formally adopted, that’s why she’s so insecure…” I cut him off with a suggestion. “You want her in the family records? That’s easy.” “Marry her. If you do, I will gladly give her this pendant as a wedding gift. As the bride of a Zhou grandson, she would finally deserve to wear it.” I unclasped the emerald from my neck and held it out to Mary. Her eyes went wide with shock, then filled with an unconcealable, ecstatic glee. She reached for it immediately. “Don’t!” Preston snatched the pendant from my hand, his fist closing tightly around it. “What nonsense are you talking about? Mary is just… she’s my sister. You’re the one I want to spend my life with!” His gaze was intense, pleading. “You can be jealous of anyone, but not her.” “She is my family. You are my love. Stop saying things you don’t mean. Anymore of this, and I’ll actually get angry.” Being stared at by those supposedly deep, soulful eyes didn’t move me in the slightest. In fact, it made me want to gag. Done with the conversation, I turned and walked away, ignoring Preston’s voice calling after me. As I stepped out of the terminal, a discreet black Maybach pulled up to the curb. The driver, Leo, got out and opened the door for me. “Ma’am. Sir said he’ll be late and asked me to pick him up later. Should I take you home first?” Damian had been on a business trip for half a month. The patriarch knew he was returning today and had arranged for a family dinner at the estate. Suddenly, someone pushed past me and slid into the car. Mary settled into the leather seat and smirked. “I thought you were married? Still mooching rides from the Zhou family? Shouldn’t you be taking your husband’s car?” Mary recognized the Maybach. It belonged to Preston’s uncle, Damian. Preston recognized it too, and a flattered look crossed his face. After all, his uncle rarely bothered with such trivial matters. He sat down next to Mary, buckled her seatbelt, and then turned to me. “You can sit in the front. Mary’s used to sitting next to me. I’ll have the driver drop you at your family’s home first.” “No need. I have my own car. Leo, just take them to the estate. I have other plans.” I pulled out my keys and hit the unlock button. Across the lot, the headlights of a Lamborghini Veneno flashed twice. As I drove away in the supercar, I saw a flash of raw envy in Mary’s eyes. Preston sighed dramatically. “She came all this way just to pick me up. She must be angry I didn’t ride with her.” Then he turned to the driver. “Did my uncle send you to get me?” Leo answered truthfully. “No, sir. I was sent to pick up my boss.” The air in the car hung thick and silent for a few seconds. “…What a coincidence,” Preston finally said. “Where is my uncle, then?” “His flight was delayed.” I treated myself to a spa day, and then, seeing it was almost dinnertime, I drove to the family estate. The moment I got out of the car, I saw two figures kneeling ramrod straight at the main gate like a pair of wooden posts. Apparently, when Leo had dropped them off, the patriarch had heard it was Preston and Mary, and he’d thrown his cane in a rage and refused to let them in the door. “Get out! Why didn’t you just die in Africa? What did you come back for?” Preston, banking on his grandfather’s soft heart, had dropped to his knees at the gate. Mary, to show solidarity, knelt beside him. When he saw me, Preston scrambled to his feet, his dejected expression vanishing, replaced by a triumphant glow. “I knew it. I knew you couldn’t stay away.” His voice was filled with smug satisfaction. “Did you hear Grandfather was punishing me and rush right over?” I turned my face away in annoyance and tried to walk around him. He blocked my path again, his face a mask of faux concern. “Don’t go in. Grandfather’s still furious. I’m afraid he’ll take it out on you.” Mary had somehow appeared at his side. She pointed a finger at my nose. “You’re still holding a grudge because Preston left you for me, aren’t you?” she accused. “You’re the one who stirred this up! Grandfather adores Preston, he would never refuse to let him in!” “You just came here to laugh at us!” With a shriek, she lunged at me. I sidestepped, and she went sprawling, landing face-first on the gravel. Mary lay on the ground, her knee scraped and bleeding, tears instantly flooding her eyes. Preston’s lips thinned. The smile vanished from his face as he knelt to check her injury. Seeing it wasn’t serious, he scooped her up in a practiced princess-carry and cooed at her until her sobs turned into a watery smile. Only then did he remember me. He sighed. “Arabella, I hardly recognize you anymore.” His voice was laced with disappointment. “Mary never means what she says. If you’re going to marry me, you have to learn to be more forgiving.” “For now, just apologize to her and we’ll forget it. But in the future, I hope you’ll try to change that temper of yours.” What? My vision went dark for a second. “Should I offer some compensation, too?” I asked, my voice dripping with ice. “To soothe her fragile, glass-like heart?” A flicker of greed crossed Mary’s face. “I could use a new run-around car. That one you were driving today was… barely acceptable.” A Lamborghini Veneno. One of only three in the world. Worth twenty-three million dollars. The sheer audacity of it. Preston, of course, made the decision for me. “Since Mary likes it, just give it to her. Consider it compensation for her injury.” I stared at him. “When pigs fly.” “What?” he said, not understanding the idiom. “I said, not a chance in hell!” I shoved him aside and walked straight towards the house. “Stop right there!” Preston, realizing he’d been played, turned beet red. “Arabella, I’m telling you right now,” he threatened, his voice sharp with fury. “If you don’t apologize to Mary, you can forget about marrying me! You won’t take a single step into the Zhou family home!” WHACK! Suddenly, a dragon-headed cane flew through the air and connected squarely with Preston’s skull. From several yards away, the patriarch’s voice, clear and booming with rage, echoed for all to hear. “You little bastard! That’s your aunt!”

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I discovered my boss has a “split personality” that turns him from a ruthless CEO into a seductive nightclub host. Taking advantage of the fact that his “second personality” doesn’t know me, I book him every time I go to the club. To thank him for his “hard work” at night, I bring him homemade lunches during the day. This “night shift, day feed” arrangement worked perfectly until I went home with him and saw two identical men standing there… Boss: “Say hi to your sister-in-law.” The “Other Boss”: “Bro, you mean say hi to my girl.” Me, shocked and greedy: “Calling me sister-in-law by day and your girl by night isn’t impossible…” 1 After getting roasted by my toxic boss for “working without a brain” and “leaving faster than anyone,” I did exactly as he wished: I clocked out the second the clock struck five. I sprinted to the bar to start the 99th “I Hate My Job” conference of the month with my best friend, Chloe. “He says I’m lazy? Ha! Hard work costs extra.” “You get what you pay for. I’m gonna show this company what ‘cheap labor’ really means!” “I just want his money, but he wants my life.” “Slave away for pennies… I just want to be a trophy wife.” … As I vented, the bar’s atmosphere hit its peak. Hearing Chloe’s excited gasp, I followed her gaze to the center stage. Three men were dancing, but the one in the center—wearing a silver mask, a crisp white shirt, and messy-chic hair—was captivating. Every move, every glance, that waist… I gulped. “My morals are hanging on by the thread of my poverty.” Chloe: “I can’t imagine how morally bankrupt I’d be if I were rich.” True that. Me: “How much to book that guy?” Chloe: “A grand, at least?” “…” Poverty keeps us honest. I withdrew my gaze, drank my cheap beer, and accepted my fate as a corporate slave. At the bar, I only order the most cost-effective draft. Twenty-three years old, enjoying a twenty-four-year-old’s mediocre life. Damn this world! A few rounds later, the dancers had mingled into the crowd. My eyes unconsciously searched for the boy in the white shirt. He was sitting on a sofa nearby. Surrounded by people with bad intentions. The innocent boy was having his chin grabbed, alcohol forced down his throat. He looked reluctant but helpless. His eyes, glassy and unfocused, met mine. That look of vulnerability made my heart skip a beat. The romance novels I read in high school suddenly made sense. So this is the POV of the CEO seeing the poor heroine being bullied! I downed another beer, slammed the bottle, and stood up! Alcohol courage. Chloe grabbed me: “How much money you got? How much face you got?” In times like this, if you don’t have fists, you need cash. I sighed: “I’m at the age where I have to spend money.” “I don’t have a rich girl’s life, but I have a rich girl’s disease. I can’t stand bullying.” I walked over, feeling like a billionaire. Getting closer, I heard them jeering, telling the poor guy to shake for them. “Outrageous!” Man, I’m here to save you! I pushed through the crowd and saw them touching him. His shirt was messy, tie crooked. He looked at his tormentors pleadingly: “Sir, I can’t drink anymore.” This scene triggered both my protective instincts and my… baser instincts. He’s so good! Right now, he shouldn’t be in this dirty bar! He should be at my apartment at 21 Oak Street! I slapped a card on the table, channeling my inner CEO: “I’ll take him!” Later, Chloe told me I slapped my driver’s license on the table, was met with deafening silence, and then dragged him away after paying $250 cash from my wallet. Back in our booth, I sat on the sofa, feeling like a god: “You… belong to me for this hour.” “With me here, no one dares touch you.” Chloe: “…” Novel dialogue really works in real life? The boy took off his mask and rubbed his flushed face: “Thank you, sister.” The music changed, the lights brightened. I swirled my drink pretentiously: “No need…” Before I could finish “to thank me,” I saw his face. It was Caleb Vance. My boss. The slave driver. “Holy shit! Caleb Vance?!” The hand I had just placed on his thigh recoiled as if burned. I went from CEO to corporate dog instantly: “B-Boss, what a… nice hobby you have here haha…” My brain short-circuited. I was already drafting my resignation letter. I work to make money for him, and now I’m spending money on him? The iron-faced boss moonlighting as a seductive host? I’m gonna die. Even Chloe sat up straight, like she was meeting a parent. The “host” pointed at himself innocently: “Huh? Are you talking to me?” I suspected he was drunk. Me, trembling: “You don’t know me?” Him: “Should I know you, sister?” He tilted his head, puppy eyes staring at me, drunk but not drunk. Setting everything aside… isn’t he kinda wrong for this? Chloe nudged me: “Is he really your boss?” Must be! I might not recognize my own mother, but I’d recognize my boss even if he turned into ash! But he denied it: “My name is Flynn. Not whatever Caleb Vance boss you’re talking about.” “Sister, I’m Flynn. Like… free as a bird.” “If I were a boss, why would I be working here?” He looked down, pitifully: “To be honest, I’m poor. My family is struggling. I have a disabled brother to take care of.” Chloe whispered: “Gambling dad, sick mom, disabled brother, and broken him.” Me: “…” He denied being Caleb again. I mustered the courage to grab his chin and examine his face. His eyelashes fluttered, eyes misty, cheeks flushed. Just as I was about to be bewitched by his fragility, I saw the red string necklace. His mom got it for him at a temple. It is Caleb Vance! I shuddered and let go of his face like it was hot iron. He turned his head defenselessly, looking like I’d slapped him. Chloe mused: “CEOs usually have issues… stomach problems, insomnia… maybe your boss is so stressed he developed a split personality?” That would explain a lot. Otherwise, why would a billionaire be here? A reasonable explanation: Amnesia! Or dissociative identity disorder! I gained confidence: “You’re really not Caleb Vance?” Flynn shook his head: “I’m not, sister.” Chloe said usually the personalities don’t know what the other does. To verify, I steeled myself, cupped his face, and kissed him. If it were real, the germaphobe, woman-hating Caleb would have flipped me over. But Flynn didn’t. After the kiss, he just grabbed the sofa in panic: “Sister, I work here but I don’t do that…” “I’m not an escort.” Confirmed. This little cutie is the second personality. Flynn covered his face, looking at me pitifully: “I… I haven’t been kissed before… sister.” My lust blinded me. Coupled with work trauma, my twisted psyche exploded into a fearless desire for my handsome, rich boss. I hugged him and kissed him hard: “Okay, okay, I’ll take responsibility!” 2 Next day at work, the boss was his usual stone-faced self. Looks like he really doesn’t remember. But I remember. I remember using his tie to bind his hands… After the morning meeting, my face was burning red. Colleague: “You okay, Mia? Don’t stress about the KPI…” Me, in my own world: “I think my relationship with the boss is a bit ambiguous.” Colleague: “I think it’s a bit delusional.” I stared at his back. Office romance, here I come. If I can’t be family, I’ll be a lover. As long as he pays. Work has stripped me of my morals! Someone must have gossiped that I looked mental. Before leaving, the boss called me in for a “counseling session.” “I know the workload is heavy… but Mia, I see potential in you.” “I’ve brought you on every project. Think about how much you’ve learned.” “If you’re tired, take the weekend off. Come on a business trip with me Monday.” Me, muttering: “Tsk, this mouth is so cold now.” “Last night it was so hot…” He paused: “What did you say?” Emboldened by lust, I stepped forward and lifted his chin: “Caleb Vance…” Do you know how slutty you were last night… Last night he was wild, now he’s serious. Caleb turned away. To me, this was playing hard to get. Tsk, men. He said seriously: “Ms. Mia, we are at work. Be mindful.” I got it. His subtext: Flirt with me after work. I was lost in fantasy, vaguely hearing him ask: “Did you understand?” I had an epiphany. I patted his butt on the way out: “I’ll wait for you~” Invest now, live in a mansion later. Caleb: “…” I don’t know if the primary personality has daytime shame, but my reflex slap earned me a spreadsheet. Boss: “Finish before you leave.” Fine. Just wait until later. 3 One hour later, Club Elysium. I was at the bar for less than a minute before Flynn appeared. He leaned on me drunkenly: “Sister, why so late?” “I thought you forgot Flynn.” The audacity! If you didn’t give me that spreadsheet, would I be late? You clock out on time to come here and fool around with your second personality! I pushed him away, plotting torture. I need payback for the work trauma. Flynn: “You’re late. They made me drink a lot.” I gripped my glass, silent. He tugged my sleeve, shaking it gently, looking at me with puppy eyes: “Sister, don’t you feel bad for me?” Honestly? I did. But thinking of the empty office while I worked overtime? My heart was colder than a frozen fish. I pulled him close and poured my strong drink into his mouth. He coughed, red liquid running down his chin, over his adam’s apple, into his shirt. I couldn’t help it. I bit him. Metallic taste. DJ music pounding. I went crazy. Lipstick smeared, clothes messy. I pulled his crumpled collar, panting. He held me, licking the corner of my mouth with his bitten tongue. Voice raspy and obedient: “Sister, want me to drink more?” My anger vanished in the kiss. He looked like a succubus. If I didn’t have a shred of morality left, I’d be pouring more than alcohol down his throat. “Caleb Vance…” Him: “Sister, I’m not him.” “I’m Flynn. Not Caleb.” Before I could speak, he grabbed my waist and lifted me off the stool. I tasted a lot of alcohol on him. I was tipsy. Before I knew it, we were in a dark corner, my back against the wall. He kissed me fiercely. I was shocked. He was usually passive. Why today… I pushed the man burying his face in my neck: “Caleb…” His breath was hot, kiss urgent: “I don’t want to hear his name.” Okay, crazy second personality. Can’t tolerate the first. 4 Rest is short. I opened my eyes and was at the airport. 5 AM. Caleb stood there, fresh as a daisy. How does he do it? Work all day, host all night? I got home at 12 and slept less than 4 hours. Caleb: “What? Is there something on my face?” Me, yawning: “No, just curious. You sleep so late, how is your skin so good?” Caleb, taking my suitcase: “How do you know I sleep late?” Oops. Based on observation, they don’t know about each other. And Flynn hates Caleb. Does Caleb hate Flynn? Me: “Haha, boss is busy, must sleep late…” Wait, where is his assistant, Leo? He paused: “Just us this time.” “Oh.” Normally I’d fight for my suitcase, but I’m so intimate with his second personality now. Touched hands, kissed mouths, just missing the home run. I felt entitled. Same body, right? Leo booked the hotel. Only one suite left. Me: “Leo only booked one?” Caleb: “One is fine.” We spoke in unison. The receptionist smiled professionally and handed over one key card. Caleb took it. His ears looked red. Okay, Flynn is at 70% progress, now Caleb is grinding stats too? The suite had two rooms. Caleb gave me the bigger one with the bath: “More convenient for girls.” He pushed my luggage in: “Freshen up, then we eat downstairs.” Everything arranged perfectly. I didn’t feel like an employee at all. Is the trophy wife dream coming true? I texted Chloe: [Sis is transforming!] Chloe: [Moon Prism Power!] Me: [Some people dream, I achieve. Trophy wife era loading.] Chloe: [You drunk again?] I looked at the CEO in the suit next to me and smiled. [Wait till I’m rich, I’ll buy you the mall.] I sent a pic of the high-end restaurant and a “candid” of the boss. Chloe: [?] Chloe: [?] Chloe: [?] Chloe: [Sister! My only sister!] [I’m resigning to carry your shoes!] [Old servant is late!] Me: [Soon. Wait for it.] [If Flynn wasn’t dormant, we’d be in the hotel bed, not the restaurant.] Chloe: [Oh my. Attack, sister! Bed is ready, man is ready… Get him drunk! Maybe the broken personality will come out!] [Then this and that…] Phone vibrated with Chloe’s “instructional videos.” She really watches a lot. The meal made me hot and thirsty. After eating, I stood up dizzy. The wine bottle was empty. Caleb’s glass was still full. Damn. I got myself drunk. Caleb came to support me: “Drink moderately.” Only Caleb would say that. Flynn drinks like a fish and loves it. Elevator was crowded. I leaned into his arms. He was stiff. Very different from Flynn. My face was flushed. Drunk Caleb is such a gentleman. He walked me to my door: “Can you manage?” I didn’t speak. The moment he let go, I fell backward. He caught me by the waist and helped me to bed, tucking me in. He turned to leave. I grabbed his hand. Chloe’s videos played in my head. Alcohol blurred the lines between Flynn and Caleb. I pulled him down and kissed him. “Mia…” Caleb was stunned, mouth slightly open. Maybe the personalities react differently. The kiss felt different. “Why are your lips so cold?” Am I too hot? Caleb pushed me away: “Mia, you’re drunk.” Ears bleeding red. Just like Flynn. “Why haven’t you changed?” I poked his face. “I thought you’d come out at night.” So, what’s the trigger? Caleb: “Change what?” He kept a meter distance. If Flynn is a clingy puppy, Caleb is a high-and-mighty cat. The push fueled my conquest. I wrapped my arms around his neck: “We’re adults. You know what I mean.” Special treatment at work, eye contact at the club, business trip for two, one suite… I’ve figured both of them out. I kissed him for a long time. Finally, Caleb reacted. He cupped my face, responding tentatively. I was encouraged. Tonight is the night! I tried to undress him, then felt a familiar flow. Period. Early. I lay dead on the bed. Caleb knocked, bringing brown sugar ginger tea. Perfect temperature. I drank it. He gave me a hot water bottle. I tossed it aside and looked at him pitifully: “Caleb, my stomach hurts. Rub it?” He said okay. Strength and heat perfect. I slept until midnight, woke up hot. Caleb was still there. “You didn’t go?” My voice was hoarse. He changed the towel on my forehead: “You have a fever.” Physical cooling failed. He carried me to the hospital for an IV. He had meetings tomorrow, but cared for me all night. Eating the porridge he made, I asked: “What are we now?” He paused: “Might be rushed, but if you don’t mind… will you be my girlfriend?” I nodded. Just like that, a fever got me a boyfriend. But because of the fever, I could only look, not touch. Caleb was strictly “no-touch.”

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