Category: English

The moment I stepped through the door, I heard vicious cursing echoing from the living room. “Eat! Hurry up and eat! This dog food costs more than anything you’ve eaten in your entire life. Don’t be ungrateful!” My heart tightened. I rushed into the living room and the scene before me made my blood boil. My father-in-law, who had just undergone heart bypass surgery, was curled up on the cold floor, his face deathly pale. The butler my wife Isabelle had hired at great expense, Marcus Snow, was wearing my clothes, one foot pressing down on my father-in-law’s shoulder, holding a reeking dog bowl and forcefully shoving it at the old man’s mouth. “Marcus! Are you insane!” I immediately rushed over and knocked the dog bowl out of his hands. The foul-smelling dog food splattered all over him. Marcus jumped up in rage, pointing at my nose and cursing. “What’s your problem? How dare you splash me?” He brushed at the stains on his clothes with disgust, then glanced contemptuously at my father-in-law collapsed on the floor. “I was just teaching this old country bumpkin some manners! Your wife said I’m in charge of this house! These crude country folk are full of bad habits. Letting him eat dog food is already doing him a huge favor!” His face was full of contempt, without a shred of guilt. In fact, he seemed to think his actions were perfectly justified. I trembled with rage, my nails digging into my palms. My father-in-law was Victor Sterling, one of the top financial powers in the capital, and Isabelle’s biological father! Normally, Isabelle didn’t even dare breathe loudly in front of him. Now he was being stepped on and force-fed dog food by a butler!

I was about to explain my father-in-law’s identity when Marcus sneered and kicked him hard in the chest. “Stop pretending! You haven’t finished mopping the floor!” The kick was brutal. My father-in-law grunted, clutching his chest. His face instantly turned from white to purple. His throat made wheezing sounds like a broken bellows as he curled into a ball in agony, unable to form a complete sentence. “Victor!” I threw myself forward and grabbed hold of my father-in-law. His heart couldn’t handle this kind of shock. His whole body was convulsing violently. I frantically searched his pockets for his emergency heart pills. But Marcus grabbed my hair and yanked me backward: “Stop putting on this sob story for me! You country people love drama. Trying to scam us, are you?” He pulled out his phone and started recording me and my father-in-law: “Hey everyone, you won’t believe what I’m dealing with today. This is the poor husband who married up to Miss Sterling. Not only is he covered in germs, but now he’s learned to fake illness to extort money.” When Isabelle married me years ago, a penniless country boy, her whole family objected. After the wedding, my status in this mansion was lower than a servant’s. Even the butler dared to lord over me. I endured the tearing pain in my scalp and slapped Marcus hard across the face. “Smack!” The crisp sound echoed through the living room. “Shut up! If something happens to him, even Isabelle can’t save you!” Marcus held his rapidly swelling cheek, his eyes turning venomous: “How dare you, you worthless freeloader! Guards! Throw these two beggars out!” Two burly bodyguards immediately rushed in from outside. These were men Isabelle had specifically assigned to Marcus, supposedly to protect her lifesaver. Isabelle trusted this butler to her core, even giving him authority over the household security. “Let go of me! Are you blind! Look carefully at who he is!” I struggled desperately, but the bodyguards pinned me to the ground on both sides. The head bodyguard sneered without even glancing at my father-in-law: “Mr. Mitchell, Miss Sterling instructed us that all household rules follow Mr. Snow’s orders.” They roughly hauled up my ailing father-in-law. His head lolled limply, his lips already turning dark blue. “You’ll regret this! When Isabelle comes back and sees how you treated him, she’ll make you wish you were dead!” I screamed in despair. Marcus walked up to me and ground the pointed toe of his leather shoe into the back of my hand. The piercing pain made me gasp. ” Mitchell, do you really think you’re some kind of wealthy son-in-law? Isabelle already told me—you’re just a useless waste taking up space. Once I fully gain Isabelle’s trust, you and your poor old man will both be sent back to the countryside to farm.” He kicked my hand away contemptuously and waved at the bodyguards: “Drag this old bastard to the outdoor pool! Today I’ll teach you both a lesson on behalf of Miss Sterling!”

“Touch him and see what happens! I’ll fight you all today!” Like a crazed beast, I broke free from the bodyguards’ grip and bit down hard on the head bodyguard’s wrist. The taste of blood instantly filled my mouth. The bodyguard cried out in pain and backhanded me with a punch, knocking me to the ground. My mouth hit the edge of the coffee table, blood seeping from the corner of my lips. “What are you waiting for? Lock these two paupers in the backyard. No one opens that door without my permission!” Marcus shrieked furiously. The two bodyguards stopped being polite. They dragged and hauled me and my father-in-law to the outdoor pool in the backyard. With a heavy thud, the thick double glass door was locked tight. It was December in the capital. Outside, heavy snow was falling, and the temperature was near ten degrees below zero. My father-in-law was only wearing thin house clothes. Now he was curled into a ball, shaking like a leaf in autumn wind. “Nathan, my… my chest hurts so much…” My father-in-law weakly extended his bony hand and gripped my clothes tightly. His voice was so faint it was barely audible, his breathing growing more rapid. I hurriedly stripped off my down jacket and wrapped it tightly around my father-in-law. “Victor, hang on. I’ll call an ambulance right away!” I fumbled with trembling hands for the phone in my pocket. It was empty. I jerked my head up. Through the transparent glass door, Marcus was smugly waving my phone. Inside, the heat was set to seventy-nine degrees. He wore designer house clothes stolen from my closet, lounging comfortably on the sofa. “Want your phone? Beg me.” He pressed the intercom button. His mocking voice rang out over the backyard: “Nathan, where’s that backbone you had when you hit me? Didn’t you say Isabelle would kill me when she got back? I’d like to see who freezes to death tonight.” I rushed to the glass door and pounded on the frame: “Marcus! Please, I’m begging you! Give me the phone! My father-in-law really has heart disease. He’ll die!” I pounded until my hands were red. Marcus leisurely peeled an imported cherry and popped it in his mouth: “Heart disease? Pretty convincing act. You old bastards from the sticks are tougher than cockroaches. One night in the cold won’t kill you.” My father-in-law’s face had turned from dark blue to deathly pale. His eyes were rolling back. His hand clutching his chest gradually loosened, his body sliding down limply. “Victor! Victor, wake up!” I completely broke down. I turned to the intercom and screamed: “Marcus! The medicine is in the black bag on the living room sofa! Give me the medicine! Whatever you want, I’ll agree to it!” Marcus paused for a moment. He walked to the sofa, pulled out the black bag, and took out a white medicine bottle. “Well, well. There really is medicine.” He shook the bottle through the glass, his lips curling into a malicious smile: “If you want the medicine, it’s not impossible. Kneel down now. and shout ‘I’m a country bumpkin’ three times. Then I’ll slide the medicine through the door crack.” I looked at my dying father-in-law. Without any hesitation, I dropped to my knees on the freezing tiles. My knees hit the hard ice, the pain piercing. But I couldn’t care about that. Bang! Bang! Bang! “I’m a country bumpkin! I’m a country bumpkin! I’m a country bumpkin!” I shouted at the top of my lungs, my voice especially desolate in the wind and snow. “Can you give me the medicine now?” I stared hopefully at the medicine bottle in Marcus’s hand. But Marcus suddenly clutched his stomach and burst out laughing. He laughed so hard he was nearly in tears: “Nathan, you really are an obedient dog. Too bad—I suddenly changed my mind.” Right in front of me, he unscrewed the cap of the medicine bottle. Under my confused and horrified gaze, he poured the entire bottle of life-saving emergency heart pills into the nearby trash can. “Oops, my hand slipped.” Marcus covered his mouth affectedly. “You country people are tough. You can survive a night in the cold, right?”

“Isabelle, you’re finally back! Nathan’s poor father brought an infectious disease and even hit me!” The door suddenly burst open. Isabelle walked in, bringing a blast of cold air with her. Marcus immediately dropped his arrogant expression. Covering his swollen cheek, he hurried forward, “I just asked his father to take a bath, and his father…” He stopped mid-sentence deliberately, looked down at the barely visible red mark on his hand, and forced a bitter smile: “Forget it. I shouldn’t have meddled. After all, I’m just a butler. Getting hit is my own fault.” Isabelle was the only daughter of the Sterling family. Years ago, she rejected all the wealthy young men in the capital to marry me, a penniless nobody. After moving into the Sterling family mansion, my status plummeted while her need to control the household grew daily. My already desperate heart suddenly sparked with a glimmer of hope at the sight of Isabelle. I frantically pounded on the glass door, making dull thuds. “Isabelle! Open the door! Save Victor! He’s having a heart attack!” I dragged my father-in-law, numb from the cold, to the door, trying to let Isabelle see his face clearly. But the glass was covered with thick frost. She couldn’t see the figure outside at all. She didn’t even turn her head, looking at Marcus with distress in her eyes. “What happened? Who hit you?” Marcus lowered his eyes, his voice hoarse: “It’s nothing, Isabelle. Really nothing. Just broke the skin a little. Not worth getting upset over.” My eyes widened as I stared at the barely visible red mark on Marcus’s finger. It was clearly from when he’d accidentally scratched himself on a cherry pit earlier. Isabelle’s expression instantly darkened, her eyes filled with murderous intent. She turned toward the backyard, her gaze as cold as a poisoned blade: “Nathan, I usually tolerate you out of marital consideration, but you actually brought your poor father here to cause trouble? And you dared to hurt Marcus?” I shook my head frantically, my voice already hoarse from shouting: “Isabelle, are you blind! That’s not my father—that’s your real father, Victor Sterling! He just had heart surgery. He’s dying. Please open the door!” Isabelle laughed mockingly, as if she’d heard the joke of the century. She pressed the intercom, her voice dripping with disdain: “Nathan, if you’re going to lie, at least make it believable. My father is recuperating in Switzerland. How could he possibly appear here dressed like a beggar? To protect your poor father, you’d tell such a lie. You disgust me.” She turned to the bodyguards behind her, her tone ice-cold: “Open the door.” I thought she was finally going to let us in. I was about to breathe a sigh of relief. But Isabelle’s next words plunged me into hell. “Throw these two paupers into the snow outside. Don’t let their poverty stink up my carpet.” The bodyguards immediately opened the door. A bone-chilling wind mixed with snowflakes rushed into the living room. They roughly grabbed my arms and dragged me and my father-in-law toward the front door. “No! Isabelle, you can’t do this!” I clung desperately to the doorframe, my nails leaving bloody scratches on the wood. “If you throw him out today, you’ll regret it for the rest of your life!” Isabelle held Marcus close, looking down at me without a trace of warmth in her eyes: “The biggest regret of my life was marrying you, this disgraceful country man. Marcus is my lifesaver. Anyone who dares touch a hair on his head—I’ll take their life.” The bodyguard gave a hard shove and kicked me into the snow. My father-in-law was thrown down beside me. The iron gate slammed shut in front of us. I crawled over and held my father-in-law. His body was already stiff, his breathing barely perceptible. The snow fell harder and harder, quickly piling thick layers on us. Through the mansion’s enormous floor-to-ceiling windows, I could see Isabelle carefully putting a band-aid on Marcus’s finger. Marcus let her fuss over him. His gaze passed through the glass and landed on me, his lips curling into a malicious, cold smile. I held my father-in-law tightly, my heart feeling as though an invisible hand had crushed it. “Isabelle, you threw him in the snow today. Tomorrow you’ll be begging on your knees for him to live.”

“Still howling like ghosts out there? Pour cold water on him! Wake him up!” Isabelle’s cruel voice came through the yard’s loudspeaker. Immediately after, two bodyguards appeared on the second-floor balcony. A basin of dirty water mixed with ice chunks poured down from above, landing precisely on me and my father-in-law. With a tremendous splash, the ice water instantly stole what little body heat we had left. My father-in-law’s body convulsed violently, then his head lolled to one side. He went completely still. “Victor! Victor!” I shook my father-in-law frantically, but he kept his eyes closed. Even his faint breathing had disappeared. His heartbeat had stopped. In that moment, something in my brain snapped completely. I suddenly stood up, grabbed a decorative brick from the snow, and smashed it frantically at the smart lock by the front door. Sparks flew. The alarm shrieked through the night. The bodyguards inside were startled. They instinctively opened the door to stop me. I seized the opportunity and rammed my head into a bodyguard’s chest, snatching his walkie-talkie and backup phone. With trembling hands, I dialed emergency services and hoarsely screamed out the address. “Come save someone! The patient has no heartbeat! Hurry!” Ten minutes later, an ambulance screeched to a stop in front of the mansion. A paramedic grabbed a defibrillator and rushed out. “Where’s the patient?” I crawled and stumbled toward them, pointing at my father-in-law in the snow: “Over here! Please save him!” The doctor was about to crouch down to examine him when the mansion door opened again. Isabelle walked out with Marcus, her face dark. “Who gave you permission to come in?” Isabelle strode forward and blocked the paramedic: “Doctor, check Marcus’s hand first. He just had a shock and his finger is bleeding. It needs immediate treatment.” The doctor glanced at Marcus’s finger with its cartoon band-aid, completely speechless: “Ma’am, that elderly gentleman is in cardiac arrest! This is a life-or-death situation!” Isabelle snorted coldly, glancing dismissively at my father-in-law in the snow: “Some country old man. If he dies, he dies. How precious can he be? I’m the young mistress of Sterling Group. I order you to examine Marcus immediately!” Just as the doctor hesitated and I prepared to fight Isabelle, a deafening roar suddenly came from the night sky. Three black helicopters bearing the Sterling family crest tore through the wind and snow, circling above the mansion. The powerful airflow made the surrounding tree branches sway wildly. Isabelle paused, then her face filled with smugness. She thought this was the high-end private medical service she’d specially booked to please Marcus. “Marcus, look. The helicopter I called for you is here.” Isabelle took Marcus’s hand and walked proudly toward where the helicopter was landing. Marcus was even more excited, his face flushed. He glanced at me arrogantly: “Nathan, see that? This is what wealth looks like. A poor man like you will never experience it in your lifetime.” The helicopter landed steadily. The cabin door opened. A team of fully armed black-clad bodyguards and top medical experts in white coats filed out. Isabelle eagerly stepped forward, pointing at Marcus: “Thank you all for coming. The patient is—” She didn’t finish her sentence. From my father-in-law’s inner pocket, I pulled out the dark jade thumb ring that represented absolute power in the Sterling family. I stood up. Facing the helicopter’s blinding searchlight, I held the ring up before Isabelle’s eyes. “Isabelle, open your eyes and look carefully at who you just threw out!”

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I was born to inherit a criminal empire, but through a bizarre twist of fate, I was “reclaimed” by the Wentworths—a family of old-money aristocrats who thought they were doing me a favor. Back at the Wentworth estate, I was the “real” daughter who felt like a ghost in my own home. Meanwhile, they had Madison. Madison was the “fake” daughter they’d raised in my absence—a girl who played the part of the fragile, wide-eyed porcelain doll to perfection. Madison had a fiancé, Tyler. To help her secure her spot and drive me out, Tyler decided to seduce me. It was a classic trap. I played along. I leaned into the role of the naive girl from the streets, letting myself get tangled up in his web. I wanted to see how far he’d go. I didn’t have to wait long. He took our most private, intimate photos and put them up for sale at an underground auction house, intending to incinerate my reputation and leave me with nothing but ashes. When the news leaked, I became the city’s favorite target. My name was dragged through the mud. But the Wentworths? They didn’t protect me. Instead, they turned on each other, using me as the ammunition. “I told you nothing good comes from the gutter! Why did we even bring her back?” my father barked. “She’s your flesh and blood, isn’t she? Don’t you dare pin this on me!” my mother shrieked back. Madison sat there, dabbing at fake tears, playing the peacemaker. “Poor Lexi… she’s just from a different world. She doesn’t understand our values. She’ll learn, eventually.” That was the final straw. I was kicked out of the Wentworth mansion that night, and like clockwork, Tyler and Madison’s engagement was reinstated. With nowhere else to go—or so they thought—I went back to the only life that ever made sense. I stepped back into the family business and took over the very underground auction house Tyler thought he was using to destroy me. The night of the grand auction arrived. Madison and Tyler showed up, dressed to the nines, likely expecting to watch my public execution from the VIP lounge. They froze when they saw me standing on that stage, gavel in hand, bathed in the spotlight. I cleared my throat, the microphone carrying my voice to every corner of the darkened room. “Our next lot is titled ‘The Counterfeits.’ We have a collection of explicit, unfiltered photos of our very own ‘Prince Charming,’ Tyler, and the Wentworths’ darling Madison.” “Standard rules apply. Highest bidder takes the prize.” … 1 I had just hung up on my biological father—a man who ran the city’s shadows and had been begging me to come home—when I headed over to Tyler’s place for a date. I was smiling, playing the part, until I reached the door and heard voices from inside. “Tyler, look at what she did! Lexi is so… animalistic. How could she leave these marks on you?” It was Madison. She was pointing at the dark, bruised hickeys and bite marks on Tyler’s neck, her voice trembling with performative heartbreak. Tyler’s handsome face flushed. He tried to adjust his collar, coughing awkwardly before pulling Madison into a gentle embrace. “It’s okay, Maddy. If this is what it takes to get her out of the house so you can keep your place as the only Wentworth daughter, I’ll endure it. It’s a small sacrifice.” He paused, his ears turning a deep crimson. “The marks… they’ll fade. Stop crying, babe.” Madison buried her face in his chest, her voice dropping into a hiss. “Promise me you won’t fall for her. You’re mine.” I leaned against the doorframe, biting back a cold laugh. This counterfeit girl had spent years basking in the wealth and love that belonged to me, and even now, she felt entitled to every scrap of it. Tyler agreed immediately. His lack of hesitation sent a sharp, sudden pang through my chest. So, all that effort? All the sweet words and the calculated seduction? It was all for her. He was a martyr for his little princess. Then, he pulled out a USB drive and handed it to her. He stroked her hair, his voice dripping with faux-chivalry. “Every photo is in here. Whether you want to blackmail her into leaving or just burn her world down publicly, I’m with you. I’d do anything to make you happy, Maddy.” My hand tightened on the doorknob. My blood felt like it was turning into shards of ice. Last night, we were “intimate.” Today, he was handing over the knife to slit my throat. Rage and humiliation warred in my gut, sharp as a blade. I was ready to burst in and end them both right there, but Madison’s next words stopped me cold. “Tyler, I want to send these to The Onyx—the underground auction. We can tip off the press, build the hype… Lexi won’t just be gone. She’ll be buried.” The Onyx. The underground auction house my father gave me for my eighteenth birthday. Madison looked up at him, eyes wide with hope. Tyler hesitated for a second. “Do you think I’m evil?” she whispered, clutching his sleeve. “If we don’t do this, she’s the one who marries you. I can’t lose you.” She lowered her head, a sob catching in her throat. “Some white-trash girl from the middle of nowhere comes in and steals my life, my name… even my fiancé. I just want to be your wife, Tyler.” Tyler’s heart clearly melted. He pulled her closer. “Fine. Whatever you want. I’ll help you.” By that evening, the rumor mill in the city was on fire. Word had spread that “The Lost Wentworth Daughter” was the star of an upcoming erotic auction at The Onyx. My phone wouldn’t stop ringing. The manager of the auction house was sweating through his suit when he finally got me on the line. “The files are already in our system, Boss. Do you want me to scrub it? If the Big Man finds out your photos are being circulated in our own house, he’ll have my head. Please, save me!” I smiled, a cold, sharp expression. “Why are you scared? I’m right here.” “But… the photos—” “Don’t scrub them,” I interrupted. “In fact, fan the flames. Make sure the whole world is watching. I want this bridge to burn bright enough to see from space.” 2 When I walked into the Wentworth dining room that evening, the air was thick enough to choke on. I sat down and started eating as if it were any other Tuesday. My father slammed his glass onto the table, the wine splashing onto the white linen like blood. “You disgrace! How dare you show your face here?” Madison smirked almost imperceptibly before dropping her fork to rub my father’s back. “Dad, please, your heart…” She turned to me, her eyes flashing with a cruel triumph masked as moral outrage. “Lexi, don’t you have any dignity? Think of your fiancé! Think of the family! How could you be so… desperate? To let yourself be filmed like that?” “Since when does a counterfeit get to lecture me?” I asked quietly. Before Madison could squeeze out a tear, my mother jumped up. She hovered over Madison like a protective hen, glaring at me with pure loathing. “She has been my daughter for twenty years! She is a princess in this house! You have no right to speak to her like that!” She spat the word “daughter” at me, emphasizing that my blood meant nothing compared to the bond she shared with Madison. I looked at them—these people who were supposed to be my parents. My heart felt like a lump of cold iron. Faced with a scandal that could ruin my life, they had zero questions, zero desire to help. Just blame. I picked up my knife and fork, pushed a shard of broken glass aside, and calmly cut into my steak. My father and mother were vibrating with rage at being ignored. They started shouting at each other instead. “I told you! You can’t take the ‘street’ out of a girl. Why did you insist on bringing this mess into our lives?” “She came out of your womb, didn’t she? Don’t blame me for her trashy genes!” Madison watched me, looking like she’d already won. A moment later, Tyler stormed in, his face a mask of righteous fury. “Lexi! How could you do this to me?” He stared at me, his voice trembling with “betrayal.” “How many other men have been in your bed? Was it someone from your old life? Or someone new?” I looked at the faint marks on his neck—marks I had left there—and the irony was almost too much to bear. He was such a good actor. He really leaned into the role of the scorned lover. But why? Why did I have to be the sacrifice for his grand romance with Madison? When I didn’t answer, he seemed to get even angrier. He lunged forward, grabbing my arm, his voice actually shaking now. “Why aren’t you defending yourself? Is it true? Are you really—” Madison cut him off. “Since Tyler is here, Mom, Dad… I think the family owes him an explanation. And a solution.” Her eyes were shining. Tyler stiffened, slowly letting go of my arm. The scandal was the perfect excuse. My mother glared at me one last time before turning to Tyler, her voice softening into an apologetic coo. “Tyler, dear, we are so sorry. You know… Lexi might be our biological child, but she’s been a wild animal for years. She has habits we can’t break. It breaks our hearts, really.” “Wild animal.” The words stung. They were the ones who lost me. I was seven years old, wandering the streets alone, terrified, until Frank found me and brought me into the Syndicate. I still have nightmares about those nights. And now, they used it as an insult. I gritted my teeth, swallowing the bitterness. My father spoke up then. “Lexi is too manipulative, too stained for a man like you. Tyler, you’ve been wronged. As an apology… we’d like to reinstate the original arrangement. The engagement will pass back to Madison. There will only be one Wentworth daughter from now on. As for Lexi… we are done with her.” Madison beamed, looking at Tyler with pure adoration. But Tyler’s gaze lingered on the marks on his neck for a split second, and his expression darkened. He looked at me. “Do you have anything to say?” What was there to say? Right then, my phone vibrated. I stood up and walked toward the door. As I stepped into the hall, I heard Tyler’s voice behind me, cold and final. “I agree. The engagement is with Madison.” I stopped in my tracks. I hit ‘accept’ on the call. “Boss,” the voice on the other end said urgently. “We found it. Everything.” 3 The rumor that my private photos were being auctioned was the final nail in the coffin. By kicking me out, the Wentworths had essentially confirmed it was true. The internet was a cesspool. People called me every name in the book. I even got DMs asking for my “hourly rate.” I didn’t stay silent. I posted one sentence on my socials: Tomorrow night at The Onyx, I’m auctioning off ‘The Counterfeit Couple’—the private collection of Tyler Blackwood and Madison Wentworth. Don’t miss the show. Tyler was the first to hit back, tagging me from his official account: Delusion is a sad look, Lexi. You’re the one who betrayed us. Don’t try to drag Madison into your mess. The Wentworths didn’t stay quiet either. They put out a three-page press release “vouching” for Madison’s purity and threatening me with a defamation lawsuit. The public was firmly on their side. Perfect. I needed them to feel safe. I needed them to show up. If the whole cast wasn’t there, the finale wouldn’t be nearly as satisfying. The next night, The Onyx was packed. The energy was electric, a mix of high-society voyeurism and dark-web cruelty. Tyler arrived looking grim, followed by a phalanx of security guards carrying briefcases of cash. My auction house had a “cash only” rule—an old tradition I kept because I liked the weight of it. Madison and the Wentworths arrived through the private entrance, also carrying several cases. They were here to buy my silence, to bury whatever I thought I had. When I stepped out onto the stage in a sleek, black silk dress, the room went silent. I felt every predatory eye on me. I welcomed them. My biological parents charged toward the stage. My father raised his hand to slap me, but before he could connect, my manager—a man who had seen more blood than a surgeon—intercepted him. He caught my father’s wrist in a grip that looked like it might snap bone. “You forgot the rules? Should I have my men show you the exit?” Madison stepped forward, looking like a wilted flower. “Dad is just emotional, please. Lexi… why are you doing this to me?” She looked at me, tears welling up. “Why are you so cruel?” The manager looked at me. I gave him a tiny nod, and he let go, backing away with a final warning. They couldn’t touch me on stage, so they resorted to psychological warfare. My mother stepped closer, her voice a hushed, manipulative whisper. “Lexi, honey, stop this. You can’t play with Madison’s reputation like this. You’re sisters. I know you’ve had a hard life, and you’re worried about the inheritance, but this is beneath you.” She leaned in, her eyes cold. “If you come down now, tell everyone this was a prank born out of jealousy, and get the manager to cancel the lot… we’ll let you come home.” I looked at her, tilting my head. “You’ve been around this world long enough to know the rules, Mother. If I cancel an auction after the gavel is up, the house takes my hands or my feet. Is that what you want?” My mother’s face paled for a second before she masked it with a shrug. “Oh, surely they wouldn’t do that to a girl. They’re just… being dramatic, right?” Madison’s face twisted with spite. “It’s what you deserve for being a snake!” I got it. They wanted me to gamble my limbs to save Madison’s “good name.” They didn’t care if I bled out in the alleyway as long as their precious princess remained untarnished. It was hilarious. Truly. I didn’t waste another breath. I walked to the center of the stage and picked up the heavy, silver-plated gavel. “Our first item tonight,” I announced, my voice amplified throughout the hall, “is a collection from ‘The Counterfeit Couple’—starring our very own fraud, Tyler Blackwood, and the fake heiress, Madison Wentworth.” “Standard rules. High bidder wins.” 4 The room erupted. The Onyx didn’t hire “auctioneers.” They had a reputation for being ruthless and honest. The fact that I was the one holding the gavel changed everything. But it was my phrasing—”Fake Tyler”—that sent the crowd into a frenzy. Tyler Blackwood was the sole heir to the Blackwood shipping empire. And I had just called him a fraud. Tyler stormed the stage, grabbing my wrist. “Lexi! You’ve fallen so low you’re working in a place like this? Get your things. We’re leaving.” I used my free hand to deliver a slap that echoed like a gunshot. “Who do you think you’re talking to?” I hissed. “You’re just a piece of meat I decided to play with. Did you really think you meant something to me?” I leaned into the mic. “Or are you just nervous, Tyler? Afraid of what’s in the vault?” Tyler gritted his teeth, his eyes burning with hate. “Fine. If you want to rot in the mud, be my guest. Don’t crawl back to me when you’re nothing.” He walked off the stage. I smiled and slammed the gavel down. “Lot One: A series of candid photos of Tyler Blackwood. Starting bid: Ten cents.” It was an insult. A starting bid that low for a man of his stature was a slap in the face. And because it was an anonymous auction, the rich socialites in the room didn’t mind humiliating him. The price climbed quickly. A group of wealthy cougars pushed it to three million. Tyler, looking like he wanted to murder everyone in the room, finally bid thirty million just to shut them up. Sold. I did the same with Madison’s photos. Before the Wentworths could even open their mouths, Tyler dropped another thirty million to save her. He was playing the hero, basking in the pity of the crowd. But then, I dropped the real bomb. “Next lot: Evidence of the Wentworth family’s systemic tax evasion and offshore money laundering. Starting bid: One hundred million dollars.” The room went dead silent. The Onyx only auctioned verified items. If it was on the block, it was real. This was a bomb that would level the Wentworth legacy. The family panicked. They started bidding against themselves, but they didn’t have the liquid cash. Madison turned to Tyler, begging him to use the Blackwood accounts. But I wasn’t done. “And for a combined lot,” I said, a predatory grin spreading across my face, “we have the ultimate secret: The identity of the real Blackwood heir.” “Starting bid: Ten billion dollars.” I reached back, and a tall, shadow-dressed man stepped through the velvet curtains.

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The day I transferred to my new class, everyone looked at me with pity. Because my desk mate was the school’s notoriously vicious, unrestrained bad boy. The girl sitting in front of me was a famously arrogant, domineering rich heiress. And the guy sitting behind me was a ridiculously popular teen idol who barely ever showed up to class. It’s worth mentioning that these three made up the most stable triangle in the entire school—ranking dead last, second to last, and third to last in every exam. But starting today, they wouldn’t have to hang their heads in shame over their terrible grades anymore. Because their god had arrived. 01 On my first day at my new school, I walked into the classroom wearing faded, washed-out jeans and slightly cracked sneakers. Everyone looked at me with pity. Probably because I looked completely out of place in this elite, private prep school. My assigned seat was in the far back corner. After the teacher pointed to my desk, the class’s pity turned into sheer sympathy. I didn’t understand why until I got to my desk. My desk mate was a guy with an absolute mess of spiky, alternative hair. He wasn’t wearing the school uniform. Instead, he wore a black tank top under a black leather jacket covered in studs. He looked like someone you absolutely did not want to mess with. My desk’s cubby was also completely stuffed with his junk. Gaming consoles, decks of cards, and a massive hoard of snacks—it honestly looked like a convenience store exploded inside my desk. This punk-rock desk mate loudly chewed his gum and warned me in a low voice: “If you want to survive at this school, keep your mouth shut and sit somewhere else.” There were actually a few empty seats further back, but they were too far from the chalkboard. I wouldn’t be able to read anything. “Are you deaf? I said move. You don’t deserve to sit next to me.” The moment the words left his mouth, I started pulling everything out of my cubby, dumping it all onto the top of my desk. “Wow! Are all these welcome gifts for me?! Thank you so much! You are so sweet!” “Bullshit! Who said those were for you?!” He lunged forward to grab his stuff, but I dodged. “Oh, if they aren’t for me, did you bring them from home? Wait, doesn’t the school rulebook say we can’t bring these things to class?” The teacher at the front of the room frowned deeply, glaring at him. “Liam? What is going on? Haven’t I told you countless times that gaming consoles are strictly prohibited on school grounds?” Seeing the teacher marching down the aisle to confiscate his stash, Liam panicked and forcefully shoved the entire pile toward me. “No, Mr. Davis! These are… these are all welcome gifts for the new student!” Liam glared at me, gritting his teeth as he hissed, “After all, a broke charity case like you has probably never seen nice things like this in your entire life, right?” He didn’t hold back his insults. Unfortunately for him, if someone throws mud at me… I pick it up, shove it in their mouth, and insult their entire bloodline. “Thank you so much! You’re right, I really haven’t seen things like this before! Back in my rural village, I only ever saw pigs that ran around in the mud. This is my very first time seeing one that speaks English!” Liam’s eyes went wide. Just as he was about to explode, I quickly pointed at a sheet of Peppa Pig stickers sitting in the pile, smiling innocently to show I totally meant no offense. The teacher interrupted us, rushing me to sit down so class could start. The second I sat down, Liam threatened me: “I’m going to remember this. Just you wait. I’m going to make your life a living hell. You’re gonna eat it.” Hearing that, I excitedly pulled a plastic grocery bag out of my pocket. “Oh, perfect! Can I get it to-go?” I had heard the cafeteria food at this prep school was incredible. I had fought tooth and nail through a brutal national academic competition, catching the principal’s eye, which earned me a full-ride scholarship to get in here. But apparently, on my very first day, I had provoked the exact wrong person. 02 As soon as the bell rang, Liam got a phone call and stormed out. The girl sitting in front of me turned around, looked me up and down, and rolled her eyes. “You’re so ugly. You pissed off Liam. Your good days are officially over.” That was when a nearby student whispered to me that Liam was the school’s most notorious bad boy. His family was incredibly wealthy and powerful, so no one dared to cross him. The girl in front of me flipped her long, wavy hair, letting out an ambiguous, mocking scoff. I looked at her, examining her face, and then said with absolute sincerity: “You are so beautiful.” I wasn’t lying. I had genuinely never seen a girl this pretty in real life. I subtly glanced at the name written on her notebook. Chloe Sterling. Even her name sounded expensive. Hearing my genuine praise, Chloe paused. But a second later, she put her arrogant, nose-in-the-air mask back on. “Save the flattery. Don’t think complimenting me means I’m going to protect you.” That reminded me—I probably needed to start thinking about my personal safety. “So… what exactly is he going to do to me?” Drag me outside and beat me up? A one-on-one fight, or getting jumped by a whole gang? No one answered my question. Aside from the arrogant heiress, everyone else just looked at me with deep pity. But I got my answer very soon. Right after school ended, I was “politely escorted” to the basketball gym. Four or five guys surrounded me. Liam sat on the bleachers a few feet away, smiling smugly. “Well? It’s not too late to get on your knees and apologize.” I cautiously backed up, trying to reason with them first. “Come on, guys. Deep down, we’re all the same kind of people.” One of the guys cracked his knuckles, the sound echoing loudly in the gym. He gave a terrifying grin. “Who the hell is the same kind of person as you?” I nodded frantically in panic. “Seriously! Aren’t we all just young, patriotic Americans pursuing the American Dream?” The entire gym fell dead silent. By the time they processed what I said, I had already bolted out the gym doors. The guys yelled, “Don’t let her get away!” and sprinted after me. An epic campus chase sequence officially began. I bolted straight into the principal’s office, scaring the poor man so badly he choked on his coffee. “Chloe?! What are you… hey! Don’t jump!” I had scrambled straight onto the window ledge, half my body hanging outside the building. The principal let out a shrill, panic-stricken scream. The guys chasing me barged in and froze. Liam, especially, stood rooted to the floor, his eyes bulging like saucers. I gripped the window frame tightly. Whenever anyone took a step forward, I leaned further out, terrifying the principal into playing a high-stakes game of Red Light, Green Light. “Chloe! Let’s talk this out! Just come down first, okay?!” I huddled against the window frame, refusing to move. “They’re bullying me! I want my mom!” The principal was sweating bullets. “We can fix this! You’re our top scholarship student! How about this—I’ll call your mom right now, okay?” “My mom is a little hard to reach.” “It’s fine! I’m the principal, I can reach anyone! Just tell me how to contact her!” I thought for a second, then said slowly, “Well, you’ll need to prepare some candles, incense, and maybe an Ouija board… and wait until midnight… Or I could just jump out this window and go see her right now!” I made a sudden movement toward the edge, and the principal literally dropped to his knees in terror. Now, not only was I stunned, but the guys behind me were completely petrified. “Chloe, let’s just talk! Tell me exactly who was bullying you!” I didn’t say a word. I just stared dead at Liam. The principal finally stood up, turned around, and roared at him: “I am calling your father RIGHT NOW!” 03 Half an hour later, a sleek black Mercedes pulled up to the school gates. Liam’s father had arrived. After hearing the whole story, he didn’t hold back, furiously ripping into Liam in front of everyone. “Who gave you the right to act like a mafia boss at school?! Fighting and bullying little girls like some street thug—is that what makes you a man?!” Liam, who had been so arrogant earlier, didn’t dare utter a single syllable. He just stood in the corner, taking the verbal beating. After he finished yelling at Liam, the man walked over to me. “You must be Chloe. I am so incredibly sorry. My son is an immature idiot. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive him.” I gave a silent nod. Liam’s father grabbed Liam by the collar and yanked him forward. “Apologize to her properly! And when her parents get here, you are going to apologize to them too!” “You don’t need to do that, sir. My mom can’t come.” When calling parents, the principal had only called Liam’s dad. The man had vaguely heard about my background from the school board and quickly guessed the answer. “And your father?” “He can’t come either.” The principal quickly stepped in to smooth things over. “Chloe’s family situation is a bit complicated. Both of her parents have passed away.” Hearing that, Liam’s father took a sharp breath, a look of profound guilt washing over his face. After the principal finally coaxed me down from the window and urged me to head home, I was just about to leave when I heard Liam getting chewed out again. “This poor girl has had such a hard life, and you have the nerve to lay your hands on her?! Look at your grades! You are permanently dead last in your class!” “Do you have any idea how much your mother and I have sacrificed for you?! We hire tutors that charge $500 an hour, and this is the garbage report card you bring home?!” “Let me make this clear: if you rank dead last again on the midterm, don’t even bother coming home!” Hearing the words “$500 an hour,” I instantly slammed on the brakes. I waited until the man left. When Liam finally walked out of the office, he spotted me immediately, crouching in the hallway corner. He glared at me, his tone incredibly impatient. “Why haven’t you left yet? Do you want to fight me again?” I violently shook my head, plastering on the most sycophantic, eager smile I could muster, and scurried up to him. “Um… do you need a tutor? I can tutor you! And I don’t charge $500 an hour! $50 is plenty!” Liam rolled his eyes, completely ignoring me, and kept walking. I scampered right behind him, aggressively pitching my services. “I’m serious! Trust me, I guarantee I can get you out of dead last place on the midterm!” “That’s hilarious. Do you have any idea how elite the tutors my parents hire are? They couldn’t fix me. You think you can?” “What if I can?” Liam scoffed, shoving his hands in his pockets, walking with a careless swagger. “Don’t waste my time, and don’t waste yours. I can’t study. Even memorizing a single vocabulary word is a massive struggle for me.” “Then do you believe I can make you memorize a vocabulary word in under 60 seconds?” Liam finally stopped walking. He turned around and glared at me fiercely. “Why are you so annoying?! What do you even get out of this?” His yelling startled me. I instantly put on a deeply tragic, heartbroken expression. “You know… I used to have a boyfriend who I loved very much. But he forgot all about me.” Liam froze in place. After a long silence, he slowly raised a finger and pointed at himself. “It wasn’t… me, was it? That’s impossible. You’re lying.” “Of course I’m lying! The word is ‘Forget.’ F-O-R-G-E-T. To fail to remember. Memorize that word, it’s definitely going to be on the midterm.” The moment I said that, Liam’s face contorted violently. “Dammit. The knowledge just entered my brain in the most toxic, non-consensual way possible.” 04 But the very next day, Liam walked up to my desk and threw $500 in cash right in front of me. “Starting today, you’re my tutor.” I snatched the cash instantly and gave him an ironclad guarantee. “No problem! I promise you won’t be dead last on the midterm!” And so, I began crafting a highly customized curriculum for Liam. Since I was getting paid, I was going to be professional. I designed the entire lesson plan specifically tailored to his abysmal baseline. But Liam made one thing clear: his secret, desperate grind session absolutely could not be discovered by anyone else. So, every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday after school, we met in secret at the basketball gym. But despite our best efforts, people eventually found out. Not long after, a girl came up to me and started fishing for info. “Are you and Liam getting really close lately? I saw him waiting for you after school the other day.” I looked at the girl. She looked somewhat familiar, but I couldn’t remember her name to save my life. I gave a neutral, non-committal answer. “We’re alright.” The moment I said that, a loud bang erupted from the front row. Chloe slammed her hands on my desk, standing up furiously. “What exactly is your relationship with Liam right now?” The girl who was questioning me quickly pulled Chloe down to sit, then shot me a venomous glare. “Do you have any idea that Chloe and Liam have been childhood sweethearts forever?! Don’t even think about trying to seduce him.” “Wait, no, I’m not!” I desperately wanted to explain, looking at Chloe with profound, maternal disappointment. Such a beautiful, delicate flower. Why on earth is she obsessed with that spiky-haired pile of manure? Chloe completely missed the pity in my eyes. She just glared at me harder. “I don’t care what your relationship is. Just stay the hell away from him.” I felt incredibly conflicted. Just yesterday, Liam had tossed another $2,000 at me to keep tutoring him. According to him, the last English pop quiz was the first time in his entire life he had managed to translate every single sentence without staring blankly at the paper. Seeing my silence, Chloe angrily kicked my desk. Unfortunately for her, the desks at this prep school were built like tanks. The desk didn’t budge an inch, but her face twisted in agonizing pain. Seeing her get hurt, the girl next to her immediately started comforting her, while shooting me an icy, threatening look over her shoulder. “You’re dead. Wait for me after school.” I didn’t have to tutor today, and I was originally planning to go to my part-time job. Right before leaving school, I went to the restroom. The moment I walked out of the stall, a group of girls cornered me. I rubbed my temples and gave a bitter laugh. Seriously? What kind of garbage school is this? People are constantly forming fight clubs every single day. Does the administration literally do nothing?! “Hey! Who gave you the nerve to try and seduce Liam?” The girls backed me into a corner, hurling insults one after another. “So shameless. All she knows how to do is play the pathetic victim.” “Exactly. Let’s beat the crap out of her, that’ll teach her a lesson.” Standing on the edge of the group, I spotted the girl who had been hovering around Chloe earlier today. She seemed to be the ringleader. Another girl next to her asked nervously, “Hey, what if Chloe finds out we did this? She explicitly told us not to…” “Shut up! Everyone knows she likes Liam! We’re just helping her out!” With that, the ringleader gave the signal, and the group rolled up their sleeves and marched toward me. I glanced around the room, then immediately ducked into the janitor’s closet. “If you mess with me, you are kicking a literal steel plate!” I grabbed a wet mop and dunked it directly into the nearest toilet bowl. The girls’ eyes went wide in sheer horror, and they scrambled backward. As the ancient proverb says: A mop dipped in toilet water makes you an invincible god of war. Today, they were going to taste my wrath. Just as the epic battle was about to erupt, someone suddenly burst into the restroom. “STOP! What are you doing?! Who told you to bully her?!” 05 Chloe shoved her way to the front, shielding me behind her, and screamed at the ringleader. “Didn’t I tell you explicitly NOT to bother her?! Sarah, what the hell is this?!” The girl named Sarah shrank back nervously. “I… I was just trying to help you! You saw how close she was getting to Liam. What are you supposed to do? We just wanted to warn her to stay away from him.” “I told you I don’t need your help! If I have to win a guy through cheap bullying, I don’t fucking want him!” I quietly poked my head out from behind Chloe’s back, studying her expression. Damn, sister. That was badass! “If I like him, I’ll pursue him myself. But who he chooses to like is his own business.” “Most importantly, I will absolutely not allow you to use my name as an excuse to bully someone else.” With that, Chloe grabbed my wrist and dragged me out of the restroom, leaving the group of girls standing there, too terrified to follow. Once we were out in the hallway, Chloe finally apologized to me. “I’m sorry. I had no idea they were going to do that to you. I asked Liam about it—he said you guys are just tutoring. You should go home now.” I checked the time. It was too late to make it to my part-time job anyway. My shift was far from school, and it took a 20-minute bus ride just to get there. Honestly, tutoring was way more lucrative. My eyes darted around, looking at Chloe, and a bold idea suddenly flashed in my mind. “Um… have you ever thought about getting a tutor?” “Me?” “Yeah! Yeah! I heard you’re ranked second to last in the grade. Don’t you want to reconsider?” Chloe rolled her eyes. “So what if I’m second to last? I only stayed at the bottom to be closer to him.” “But he’s getting tutored by me now! I promised him that after the midterms, he absolutely won’t be dead last anymore. When his rank goes up, won’t you just be further away from him?” Chloe instantly fell silent, clearly processing my logic. I quickly doubled down on my sales pitch. “Seriously, just hire me to tutor you too! I promise I won’t play favorites. You guys just listen to my lessons, try your best on the exam, and I guarantee your rankings will be right next to each other!” Hearing that, Chloe agreed on the spot. So, my new schedule began: tutoring Liam on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays; tutoring Chloe on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays; taking Sundays off. Neither of them hesitated when it came to paying my tutoring fees. In less than half a month, my bank account was absolutely overflowing. Even though their academic foundations were horrifyingly terrible, I had the energy and the ruthless methods to fix them. With money in my pocket, my eyes started drifting toward the various shops around the school. There was a bakery that always wafted the smell of fresh bread right when school ended. Every time I smelled it, I practically lost the ability to walk. After tutoring today, I finally worked up the courage to walk into the bakery and buy a strawberry shortcake slice. But as I bought it, the cashier kept giving me a really strange look, making my chest tighten. Is there something wrong with this cake? It was my first time buying a fancy cake in my life, so I was incredibly cautious. I verified the price three separate times before handing over my cash. As I turned around to grab my cake, I heard the cashiers whispering. “Stalker fans are so terrifying these days!” “Seriously. I can’t believe they followed him all the way to his school.” I was still completely confused. Holding my freshly bought cake, I walked out the door—and bumped straight into a tall guy wearing a baseball cap and a black surgical mask. He turned back to look at me, and when he saw the strawberry cake in my hand, his eyes filled with intense irritation. “Do you stalker fans seriously have nothing better to do? What do you want from me?” 06 I looked left. I looked right. Seeing no one else around, I finally realized he was talking to me. The guy talking was incredibly tall. With the cap and mask, I couldn’t see his face, but the absolute disgust in his eyes was impossible to hide. I stared back at him, utterly bewildered. “Bro… who even are you?” If he had persecution paranoia, I highly suggested he seek professional therapy immediately. “Hmph, stop acting dumb. You followed me all the way to my school, didn’t you? You just saw me buy a strawberry cake, so you immediately bought the exact same one.” “Can you please get a life of your own? Stop following me, okay?” Before I could even process what was happening, the guy dropped a “Don’t follow me” and stormed off. Seriously, who the hell was that guy? Why was he acting like such an arrogant prick? The incident stuck in my mind, but I never expected to run into him at school the very next day. I had been at this school for almost a month, and the guy assigned to the desk directly behind me—who had never shown up once—finally made an appearance. I heard he was a teen idol who debuted early and was currently a massively popular boyband member. Because his schedule was so packed, he was practically a ghost, spending most of his time on a leave of absence. I walked into the classroom with my backpack. When I got a clear look at his face, I stopped in my tracks. It was an incredibly gorgeous face. His features were sharp and flawless, looking exactly like someone who had just stepped out of a manga. But just as I stepped closer to get a better look at his face, he made eye contact with me, and his expression instantly darkened. “Are you stalker fans ever going to quit?! How did you even get enrolled in this school?! Does the administration do absolutely nothing?!” His loud outburst made the entire class turn and stare at us. Liam, who had been dead asleep on his desk, woke up groggily and lifted his head. Chloe quickly rushed over and shielded me behind her back. “Noah, what the hell are you saying? This is our new transfer student, Chloe.” Liam instantly backed me up too. “Yeah, back off. She’s our private tutor now. I’m relying entirely on her to get me out of dead last.” Hearing that, Noah finally realized he had made a massive mistake. But after a brief, awkward silence, his response was basically no response at all. “Oh. I see.” He turned his head and refused to look at me, clearly not intending to apologize for falsely accusing me twice. Since I hadn’t actually suffered any real damage, I couldn’t be bothered to argue with him. I had to tutor Liam after school today anyway. We stayed in the basketball gym until it was pitch black outside. Finally, he finished the last question, threw his pen down, and let out a massive sigh of relief. I looked over his completed practice exam, extremely satisfied. I packed up my things to leave. Just as I walked out of the gym, I heard rapid footsteps behind me. “Hold on, wait for me.” Noah suddenly popped out from some dark corner and quickly blocked my path. “Are you seriously tutoring Liam and Chloe right now?” I nodded, looking at him in confusion. Seeing me confirm it, Noah looked like he was having a full-blown panic attack, frantically scratching his head. “Does that mean… they’re never going to be dead last and second to last ever again?!” This time, I nodded even faster. Are you kidding? Under my intensive, hyper-focused training, those two were guaranteed to break into the top 500 on the midterms at the very least. Noah’s eyes went wide, and his fists clenched tightly at his sides. I stared at the bulging veins on the back of his hands and slowly took a step back. What is this guy trying to do? Is he trying to sabotage my paycheck? Suddenly, Noah let go of his fists, rummaged frantically through his designer backpack, and pulled out his phone. “Pull up your Venmo QR code. I’m paying you right now. Starting today, you have to tutor me too.” 07 It turned out, Noah was the legendary “Third to Last” in our grade. He, Liam, and Chloe had formed a stable, unbreakable alliance, permanently occupying the bottom three ranks of the entire school. More importantly, if Liam and Chloe improved their grades, Noah would be automatically bumped down to dead last. And for a massively popular teen idol, being ranked dead last academically was a career-ending PR disaster. “So you have to tutor me. I absolutely cannot be dead last.” I was completely speechless. Because I genuinely couldn’t comprehend how being “third to last” was somehow not a PR disaster. But the moment Noah transferred the money, and I saw the string of zeros hit my account balance, I flashed my brightest smile. Anyone who turns down easy money is an absolute idiot. I instantly restructured my curriculum. Starting today: Noah on Mondays and Wednesdays, Chloe on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and Liam on Fridays and Saturdays. There was exactly one week left until midterms. I unleashed a brutal, all-encompassing academic bootcamp on all three of them. Right before the exam, I hammered my final test-taking strategies into their brains: “Remember: If three answers are long and one is short, pick the shortest! If three are short and one is long, pick the longest! If they’re all random lengths, just pick C!” “For the fill-in-the-blank math questions, if you don’t know it, guess 1 or 0! And any number inside a square root is absolutely going to be a perfect integer!” I had prepared a set of high-yield crash-course study guides and forced them to memorize them purely through brute force. A week later, the midterms finally ended. The results came out quickly. Liam and Chloe didn’t disappoint—they smashed their way straight into the top 500. And Noah successfully avoided the dead-last spot, jumping up over a hundred ranks. When they received their report cards, all three of them were absolutely stunned. Liam immediately pulled out his phone to call his dad and brag. “Chloe, you are a literal god! From now on, I will not allow anyone in this school to raise their voice at you!” “I never in my wildest dreams thought I could get grades like this.” “Thank God. I can finally give my manager a decent update,” Noah sighed in relief. The three of them took turns praising me until my ego was practically in orbit. According to Liam, he had barely eaten or slept leading up to the exams. Because the parent-teacher conferences were scheduled right after the exams, he was absolutely terrified that the second the conference ended, his dad would treat him to a “leather belt massage.” Since I didn’t have any family to attend, while everyone else’s parents filled the classroom, I sat alone at my desk. Under the pitying, sympathetic gaze of the homeroom teacher, I swaggered out of the classroom like a boss. Is not having parents attend really that terrifying? I looked back into the classroom. Liam was standing next to his dad, too terrified to even breathe loudly. Until his dad finally looked up from the report card and broke into a massive, proud smile. “Not bad at all! I knew you had it in you, kid!” Liam nodded excitedly. “I know, right, Dad?! You have no idea how hard I grinded for this.” Looking further back, Noah’s parents hadn’t shown up. Surprisingly, his manager was sitting at his desk. The manager looked at his test scores with an equally thrilled expression. “Finally, some actual improvement! Keep pushing, work a little harder, and we can finally start marketing you as the ‘Genius Scholar Idol’!” Everyone was laughing and celebrating. I was just about to leave when I suddenly heard a sharp, harsh voice: “You barely improved your grades a tiny bit, what are you looking so smug about?!” I turned toward the sound. Chloe’s mother was holding her test paper, flipping it over casually before tossing it aside. “It’s just pure luck. Don’t forget you’ve been second to last your entire life.” Chloe stood next to her. The usually arrogant, domineering heiress was currently gripping the hem of her skirt, trembling with anxiety. “But I scored higher than my little brother this time…” “Why are you comparing yourself to your brother?! Can you even compare to him?! Your brother is brilliant, well-behaved, and mature. You scored higher than him on one single test, what gives you the right to compare yourself to him?!”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “440979”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

The atmosphere at the high school reunion wedding was electric, the kind of forced joy that usually comes with an open bar and old rivalries. It was all fine until the MC grabbed the mic, grinning as he announced that whoever caught the bouquet would be the next one to find their “happily ever after.” In a moment of sheer, desperate impulse, I lunged forward. I didn’t just catch it; I fought for it, elbowing my way to the front until the silk ribbons were crushed in my palm. Breathless and beaming, I turned toward him, shouting his name over the music. “Daniel! Look! I got the bouquet!” But the reaction I’d rehearsed in my head—the smile, the kiss, the whispered promise—never came. Daniel didn’t even look at the flowers. He just turned his back on me and walked straight toward Sophie, his first love, who was standing a few yards away. The whispers started instantly, sharp as glass shards. “Who is she? She practically tackled that girl for the flowers. Is she that desperate to get a ring?” “That’s Daniel Thorne’s girlfriend. Apparently, she’s been hounding him to propose since they graduated med school. He’s clearly dragging his feet. Doesn’t she get the hint?” “The woman she pushed is Sophie—his high school sweetheart. She’s a single mom now. Imagine getting shoved by your ex’s desperate girlfriend. Talk about bad luck.” I looked down at the bouquet. Suddenly, the flowers felt like glowing coals. Throwing them felt like admitting defeat; holding them felt like a slow burn. Daniel was already on the lounge sofa, lifting Sophie’s foot onto his lap with a tenderness I hadn’t seen in years. … “Does it still hurt?” he asked, his voice a low murmur. “I’m okay, really,” Sophie replied, her voice that specific brand of soft that makes every man in the room want to be a hero. The snickers from our former classmates grew louder. “Man, Daniel really hasn’t changed. He’s still got it bad for the one that got away. Look at him. It’s like the rest of the room doesn’t exist.” “His girlfriend is a piece of work, though. Fighting for a bouquet like it’s a Black Friday sale. She’s lost all her dignity just to get a wedding. If he doesn’t marry her soon, she’ll probably stage a kidnapping.” The laughter cut through me like a serrated blade. I tightened my grip on the stems and walked over to him. “I didn’t push her, Daniel.” He didn’t look up. He was focused on Sophie’s swollen ankle, cleaning a scratch with a precision he usually reserved for the ER. He moved with a practiced ease, his touch light but firm. Finally, he raised his head. His eyes were cold. “Go find out if there’s a shop nearby that’s still open. She can’t walk in those heels. Size six. Get her some flats.” I bit my lip so hard I tasted copper. My knuckles were white against the bouquet. “Do you even know what size I wear, Daniel?” He hesitated, a flicker of confusion crossing his face. “It doesn’t matter,” I said, a hollow laugh escaping my throat. “I could tell you a hundred times, and you’d still forget.” The judgmental stares followed me like spotlights. Sophie made a half-hearted attempt to stand, her face a mask of concern. “I’m so sorry, Hannah. It’s not what you think. Daniel, please, your girlfriend is upset. I can handle this myself.” But he gently pressed her back down into the cushions, murmuring instructions on how to keep the foot elevated. I couldn’t breathe. I turned and bolted out of the hotel lobby, the humid night air hitting me like a physical blow. I waited. I stood by the curb, half-expecting—praying—that he would chase after me. I waited until the Uber pulled up. He never came. My phone buzzed as I sat in the backseat. A text: I’m taking her to the hospital just to be safe. Stop making a scene, Hannah. It’s embarrassing for everyone. A tear fell, splashing onto the screen, blurring his words. Seven years. We had been together for seven years, not seven days. How had my desire for a life with him become a punchline? Every woman I knew—girls younger than me, couples who had started dating years after us—was already married. I had watched them all walk down the aisle, one by one. And every single time, they asked the same question: “Hannah, when is it your turn?” I always said, “Soon. We’re just waiting for the right time.” I told myself he was busy with his residency, that he needed to establish his career. But I had waited seven years. When my grandfather was dying, his last wish was to see me in a white dress. He never did. That regret would haunt me forever. Tonight was the wake-up call I had been ignoring. This man didn’t love me. He certainly didn’t want to marry me. He didn’t get home until dusk the next day. I had been sitting on the sofa for five hours, staring at nothing. “When are your parents coming into town?” I asked, my voice thin and exhausted. “I need to make the dinner reservations.” I gripped the hem of my shirt. Every time I brought up wedding planning at dinner, he found a way to deflect. My parents were starting to look like fools, constantly being stood up or brushed off. He paused, not meeting my eyes, and headed for the bathroom. “Don’t bother with a reservation.” “Just get some rest,” he added over his shoulder. “You have work tomorrow.” “I’m quitting,” I said. He stopped in his tracks. “My parents found me a job back home. They also found someone they want me to meet. A setup. I saw his picture—six-foot-two, handsome, a doctor just like you. If things go well, I could be married by next year.” He spun around, his eyes flashing with a sudden, sharp anger. He grabbed my shoulders, his grip tight. “Are you really that desperate? You’re going to blackmail me into a proposal by threatening to marry some stranger?” “Yes! I’m thirty, Daniel! Not twenty-three, not twenty. Thirty.” My voice broke. “Do you have any idea what that means? If I waste another two years on you, the doctors will be writing ‘geriatric pregnancy’ on my charts before we even pick a venue. I gave you the best seven years of my life, and no matter how hard I try, I can’t compete with the ghost of Sophie.” His brow furrowed. He reached out as if to touch my face, then pulled back, his hand hovering in mid-air. “Sophie and I… it’s not what you think.” A loud knock interrupted us. A man’s head poked through the doorway—one of Daniel’s med school friends. “Hey, man! You ready? We’re heading to the after-party. You coming?” “Get out,” Daniel snapped. “I’m not going.” The friend hesitated. “Sophie’s there… some of the guys from the old crowd are cornering her, trying to get her to do shots. She looks pretty overwhelmed. You sure?” The change in Daniel’s face was instantaneous. The anger he’d felt toward me vanished, replaced by a sharp, focused anxiety. He looked at me, as if waiting for me to give him permission—or perhaps just waiting for me to get out of his way. “Go,” I said, the word tasting like ash. “Go before your precious Sophie gets her feelings hurt.” He didn’t hesitate. He grabbed his keys and headed for the door. “Go to sleep,” he said. “Stop overthinking everything.” The roar of his engine faded into the night. He hadn’t loved me in a long time. I was just the only person in the world who refused to admit it. I tossed and turned all night, finally succumbing to a chemical sleep after two Ambien. When I woke up the next morning, the table was set with breakfast. Daniel was in the kitchen, wearing an apron. He walked over and slid a small, navy-blue folder across the table toward me. His birth certificate and social security card. “Let’s do it,” he said. “Let’s get married.” For seven years, I had prayed for those words. Now, my heart just felt heavy. “I know your favorite food is honey-glazed salmon,” he said softly. “I know you wear a size six shoe. I know you prefer leggings to jeans because you hate being restricted. I know you don’t wear perfume because you’re allergic to most florals.” So, he did know. He had always known. Maybe I had pushed him too hard yesterday. Maybe this was his way of finally choosing me. His phone buzzed. He glanced at it, then quickly stripped off the apron. “There’s an emergency surgery at the hospital. Wait for me. As soon as I’m out of the OR, we’ll head to City Hall and get the license.” I had waited so long for this. Seven years of history was too much to just throw away. I spent the afternoon doing my makeup, picking out my most elegant white dress, and I arrived at City Hall early. I waited until the clerks started clearing their desks. I watched the sun dip below the skyline. “Ma’am?” the security guard asked. “We’re closing in five minutes. Are you waiting for someone?” Numbly, I pulled out my phone and dialed his number. It rang and rang. Finally, someone picked up. But it wasn’t Daniel. It was a woman. “Dr. Thorne is busy right now. Is there a message I can take?” Daniel hated anyone touching his phone. And I knew that voice. It was Sophie. “I…” The words died in my throat. I hung up. Walking out of City Hall, the evening chill seeped into my bones. But it was nothing compared to the sharp, sudden cramp in my abdomen. My vision went black, and the pavement rushed up to meet me. When I woke up, I was in a sterile hospital room. A young nurse beamed at me. “Good news, honey. You’re pregnant.” Later, as I walked past the neonatal unit, I stared through the glass at the tiny, fragile lives in the incubators. So small. So innocent. I remembered asking Daniel once if he wanted kids. He had pulled me close, his chin resting on the top of my head, and whispered, “Let’s have two. One that looks like you, and one that has my stubborn streak.” But now, carrying his child, I didn’t feel joy. I felt a cold, paralyzing fear. At the end of the hallway, I saw a familiar white coat. Daniel. He was holding the hand of a small boy, walking toward me. Sophie was at his side. Looking at them, they didn’t look like a doctor and a patient’s family. They looked like a family. If Sophie hadn’t left the country all those years ago, she would have been the one in the white dress today. I was just the placeholder. “Daddy Daniel, when I’m all better, can we go to Disney World?” the little boy chirped. My heart stopped. Daddy? Daniel finally saw me. He let go of the boy’s hand, his brow knitting together. “What are you doing here?” I looked him dead in the eye. “Since when do you have a son?” A flicker of guilt crossed his face, but Sophie stepped forward before he could speak. “Hannah, please don’t be mad at Daniel. I’m divorced, and my son is just very attached to him. He calls him that because… well, because Daniel has been so wonderful to us.” She looked back at the boy and lowered her voice. “He has a congenital blood disorder. Daniel didn’t tell you because he didn’t want you to worry. Today was his surgery. Daniel hasn’t left his side.” I looked at Daniel. He stood there, silent. He could have explained. He could have sent a text. A single sentence would have saved me hours of agonizing at City Hall. But he chose to let her be the one to tell me. I looked at the thin, pale boy hiding behind Sophie’s skirt, his arm wrapped in gauze. My anger flickered, replaced by a hollow ache. To make it up to me, Daniel invited my parents to a private dinner at a high-end steakhouse. The table was filled with my favorite dishes, the atmosphere forced but polite. But every time the conversation drifted toward the wedding, his phone would vibrate. Finally, he answered. It was Sophie, her voice a frantic, sobbing mess that bled through the receiver. “Daniel, I’m scared! His father is here—he’s trying to take him! He hit me, Daniel! Please, I don’t know what to do!” Daniel surged to his feet. I grabbed his hand, using every ounce of my strength to hold him back. “My parents are here, Daniel. You promised. You said you wouldn’t walk out today.” He looked down at me, then gently but firmly pried my fingers off his arm. “I have to go. This is an emergency, Hannah. I’ll come back as soon as it’s settled and apologize to your parents. I promise.” The door swung shut behind him. My mother sat in stunned silence. My father’s wine glass remained suspended in mid-air. I looked at my empty palm and realized how pathetic I looked. Worried about his safety—or perhaps just needing to see the truth for myself—I followed him. His car was parked in front of a luxury townhouse I recognized. It was the house we had toured six months ago. We were supposed to move in after we got married. Now, the windows glowed with a warm, inviting light. Sophie and her son were already living in my dream. In the driveway, Daniel was in a heated scuffle with a man. Daniel’s knuckles were bloody—the hands of a surgeon, now bruised for a woman who wasn’t his. He pinned the man against a car. The man spat on the ground and laughed. “Fine! You want me to leave them alone? Give me twenty grand a month. Or I’ll keep coming back. You can’t protect them forever.” Daniel kicked the man’s legs out from under him, pulled a gold card from his wallet, and threw it at his face. “Take the card and get the hell out of here!” Sophie threw herself into Daniel’s arms, sobbing into his chest. I stood in the shadows, watching them. I felt like an intruder in someone else’s life. My phone rang. It was my mother. “Hannah, that man is not reliable. Seven years, and he treats us like an afterthought. You’re not a girl anymore. Don’t waste another second.” “That setup your father mentioned? I called him. He’s successful, kind, and he wants to meet you. Hannah…” “Mom,” I interrupted, my voice sounding like a stranger’s. “Set it up. I’ll meet him.” The next day, I went to Daniel’s office to return the navy folder. The room was empty. As I turned to leave, Sophie’s son appeared in the doorway. “Are you the Mean Lady Mom talked about?” The Mean Lady? My heart tightened. He raised a toy water gun and squirted it directly into my face, laughing. “Bang! You’re dead, Mean Lady! You can’t have my Daddy! My Mom and Daddy belong together!” Water dripped down my forehead, soaking my hair. I stepped forward to take the toy away from him, but the second I moved, he let out a piercing shriek. Daniel and Sophie burst into the room. “What happened?” Sophie cried, rushing to her son. The boy pointed a trembling finger at me. “She said I don’t have a daddy! She tried to hit me!” Sophie’s eyes welled with tears. “Hannah, if you think Daniel and I are too close, I’ll stay away. But please, don’t take your bitterness out on my son. He’s sick. Do you have any idea what this stress does to him?” I opened my mouth to defend myself, but Daniel grabbed my wrist, his eyes burning with a dark, primal rage. “What the hell is wrong with you?” he hissed. “I told you I’d marry you! What more do you want? Do you need to destroy a child just to feel secure?” He gripped me so hard that the bandage on his own hand began to seep blood. I couldn’t find the words. Sophie screamed. “Daniel! He’s turning pale! Help him!” Daniel shoved me aside to get to the boy. The force was so sudden that I stumbled back, the small of my back slamming into the sharp corner of his mahogany desk. A white-hot pain exploded in my spine. I doubled over, clutching my stomach as my vision blurred. “Daniel… it hurts…” He didn’t turn around. I looked down. A dark, crimson stain was blooming across the skirt of my pale dress. I collapsed onto the floor, the world fading to gray. When I woke up, the doctor’s face told me everything before he even spoke. “I’m so sorry, Hannah. We couldn’t save the baby. You’re young, though. You’ll be able to try again.” I touched my flat stomach. I felt nothing. No tears, no anger. Just a profound sense of relief. The last thread tying me to Daniel had finally snapped. My parents helped me pack. My mother’s eyes were full of pity as we loaded the last of my boxes into the car. “Are you sure about this, Hannah? Once we leave, we aren’t coming back.” I took one last look at the apartment. Seven years of memories, seven years of building a life for a man who didn’t exist. I checked my phone one last time. A notification from Sophie’s Instagram popped up. A photo of Daniel’s hand—wearing the watch I had bought him for his birthday—holding hers. The caption: No matter what happens, you’re always by my side. I forced a smile. “I’m sure, Mom. I’m staying with you and Dad from now on.” As the car pulled away, I took out my SIM card and tossed it out the window. That night, back at the hospital, Daniel developed a nagging cough. He reached for the drawer where I always kept his medicine, but it was empty. He realized he’d been too harsh with me. He realized he’d stood up my parents. Again. He sighed and reached for his phone to call me. There was a knock on the door. A young nurse walked in, holding a chart. “Dr. Thorne? Your girlfriend, Hannah… she was admitted earlier. She had a miscarriage. The doctor said she needs to be very careful with her recovery.” Daniel froze. The world around him seemed to stop breathing.

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My system gave me one month to say goodbye to this world. I finally became the magnanimous wife and gentle mother I was supposed to be. I no longer felt jealous of Evan’s lingering feelings for the female lead, nor did I mind our son constantly clamoring for her to be his mother. But these warm and harmonious days didn’t last long. Evan became unaccustomed to it. When he was about to leave again in the middle of the night because of a single phone call from the female lead, I proactively handed him the car keys. His gaze froze, his eyes turning red: “Chloe, do you not love me anymore?” Yeah. I don’t love you anymore. Not even our son. I don’t love either of you anymore. 01 Stella called Evan at 1 AM, crying that she was afraid of the thunder. Evan didn’t hesitate for a second, immediately springing out of bed. I got up too. “Chloe, stopping me won’t work! Stella has been afraid of thunder since we were kids; I have to go!” Evan scolded me with a dark expression. In the past, I definitely would have caused a scene. But not anymore. I just quietly handed him the car keys: “Drive safe.” Evan was stunned. He looked at me in disbelief. “Hurry up, Stella is waiting for you,” I smiled slightly. A flicker of dark, unreadable emotion flashed in Evan’s eyes, but he didn’t linger. He hurried out the door. I knew he wouldn’t be coming back tonight. Before, I would have spent the night tossing and turning. Worrying that he and Stella would rekindle their old flame. But now, there was no need. Because in one month, I’ll be leaving this world. 02 I’m a “Transmigrator,” tasked with completing a mission. My target was the deeply devoted second male lead in this novel, Evan Hayes. According to the plot, Evan was supposed to fall into a severe depression and commit suicide three years after the female lead, Stella, married the male lead. My mission was to change the tragic fate of the second male lead and ensure he lived a good life. Now, the mission is finally over. The system detected that Evan no longer had suicidal tendencies and told me I could go home. Considering that I had married Evan and even had a child with him, the system said I could choose whether to stay or go back. In the past, maybe I would have hesitated. But Stella returned from abroad half a month ago. Evan, who had finally developed some feelings for me, immediately shifted all his focus and attention back to her. Even the son I raised so painstakingly took a massive liking to Stella the very first time they met. He even innocently whispered in my ear: “I wish Aunt Stella was my mom.” So, I had no reason to stay. The system gave me one month to say goodbye to this world. Because once I leave, we’ll truly be separated by life and death, never to see each other again. 03 At 7:30 AM. I prepared breakfast and woke my son up. Leo is 6 years old this year. Just started first grade. The reason Evan and I got married and had Leo was because on the night of Stella’s birthday, Evan got drunk and mistook me for her. He didn’t plan on taking responsibility. But unfortunately, I got pregnant. I played a few tricks and had his family pressure him into marrying me. For the first few years of our marriage, Evan was incredibly cold to me. Later, as Stella’s relationship with the male lead grew stronger, and she even moved abroad with him after they got married, Evan finally started looking at me. Plus, we had Leo. Because of our inextricably tangled relationship, I could clearly feel his attitude towards me changing. But all of that ended when Stella suddenly returned to the country. She came back alone. The very night she returned, she called Evan. I don’t know what they talked about. I only saw a panic in Evan I had never seen before, and then he drove off without looking back to see her. Since then, Stella has frequently appeared in our lives. 04 Stella’s reappearance made me irritable, anxious, and even terrified. I was worried Evan still had feelings for her, but according to the plot, Stella didn’t like Evan at all. I was afraid that in the end, Evan’s depression would relapse because of Stella, and he would commit suicide. So I desperately tried to stop Evan from seeing Stella. Pushed to the brink, I even slit my wrists in front of him. But it didn’t do any good; it only made Evan despise me more. Even Leo would say: “Mom, why can’t you be emotionally stable like Aunt Stella?” But thankfully… The system suddenly told me I could go home. Evan wouldn’t fall into depression anymore. It’s actually quite ironic. I spent ten years on Evan, but in the end, it was the female lead who cured him. As soon as Stella returned, all of Evan’s illnesses vanished. I called Leo again. Leo yelled impatiently: “I want to sleep, leave me alone! Aunt Stella said school isn’t everything! I don’t want to go to school!” I didn’t bother him again. After throwing away all the breakfast I made, I left the house. I had just ordered a coffee and sat down. When I received a call from Evan: “Chloe, what are you doing? Why didn’t you take Leo to school? His homeroom teacher just called me!” 05 I wasn’t surprised the teacher called him. Because she had just called me, and I didn’t answer. Since I’ve already decided to let go, anything regarding Leo should be handled by Evan. “I called Leo, and he said you disappeared first thing in the morning! Chloe, enough is enough. You were so magnanimous last night, and now you’re throwing this kind of tantrum today. It’s really annoying.” Evan’s tone was full of disgust. “Leo said he didn’t want to go to class today, he wanted to sleep, so I didn’t bother him. Isn’t this what you said too? Let kids be kids, don’t force them?” My tone was light. In the past, I disciplined Leo, set rules for him, taught him manners, and cultivated good habits. But in Evan’s eyes, this was all unnecessary. Even when Leo threw bad tantrums, Evan would blame me: “Chloe, Leo is your son, not your doll. Can you stop being so controlling with everyone?” With Evan backing him up, Leo always went against me. But thankfully, Evan was always busy, and I spent much more time with Leo, so most of the time, he was relatively obedient. But ever since interacting with Stella, Leo’s rebellious genes had awakened, and he opposed me at every turn. He said: “Mom, Aunt Stella and Dad have the same ideas, so you are wrong. You’re suppressing my true nature. I wish Aunt Stella could be my mom.” After that. I decided to respect all of them. “Chloe, do you have to be so passive-aggressive?” Evan said coldly: “Since you can’t take good care of Leo, then don’t. It just so happens Stella is feeling lonely living alone right now, so I’ll take Leo to keep her company.” “Okay,” I agreed immediately. “Since you agreed, don’t cause a scene later. I don’t want things to get too ugly between us,” Evan confirmed. He was afraid I would regret it and go bother him again. “Don’t worry.” Evan hung up the phone. I continued drinking my coffee, watching the people coming and going on the street. I’ve been here for ten whole years, and I’ve never really taken the time to experience this world. Wow, the sky can be so blue! 06 After Leo went to stay with Stella. Stella became visibly happier. This was mainly evident on her Instagram. I don’t remember when I added Stella. I probably initiated it. Back when I was trying to win Evan over, I shamelessly tried to befriend her. I watched as Stella religiously posted about Leo’s daily life, three meals a day, without fail. I found it somewhat amusing. Especially today’s post: [Leo suddenly said today that he wants to live with me forever and wants me to be his mom. But I sternly reprimanded him. Saying things like that will break his mom’s heart.] Knowing full well it would hurt me, she deliberately posted it for everyone to see. I couldn’t help but laugh out loud. “What are you laughing at?” Evan asked me, frowning. It was very rare; Evan actually came straight home after work today to have dinner with me. But I only cooked a portion for myself. So, he ordered takeout. “Nothing.” I casually “liked” the post and put my phone down. “Did you suddenly come back because you need something?” I asked him calmly. “Do I need a reason to come back?” Evan suddenly got very angry. I had no idea why he was losing his temper. I wasn’t interfering with his life at all right now. “Chloe, let’s see how long you can keep up this stubbornness!” Evan suddenly put down his chopsticks. It seemed the takeout didn’t suit his taste. Evan left the table. I continued eating my dinner. “Chloe, this Saturday is Leo’s birthday.” Evan finally got to the point: “Don’t forget.” “Okay,” I nodded. I had planned Leo’s 6th birthday a long time ago. I booked the best themed hotel in the city to celebrate. But now, I didn’t know if we’d still be using it. “You still handle the arrangements, but Stella will also be there. In front of our relatives and friends, don’t give her a hard time,” Evan reminded me. “Okay,” I continued to nod. Evan looked at me several times, and only seemed relieved when he saw I didn’t have any particular reaction. But then he took a phone call, and his expression changed again. 07 “Chloe, how long are you going to keep throwing this tantrum?” Evan roared at me. I was baffled. I mean, what am I not doing right now? “Do you know you made Stella cry!” Evan accused me. “What did I do?” “What did you just do on Instagram?” “I ‘liked’ her post. So what?” “You were deliberately being passive-aggressive, weren’t you? You deliberately wanted to embarrass her! Knowing we have so many mutual friends, you still did it!” Evan’s face turned red with anger. I still didn’t understand: “What exactly did I do to her?” “Why did you ‘like’ her post?” “Didn’t she post it to get ‘likes’?” “Anyone else can, but you can’t!” Evan said self-righteously. “…So, am I supposed to be invisible?” I asked Evan carefully. “Do you have to be so aggressive? I told you, there’s nothing going on between Stella and me. I’m just looking out for her. Do you really need to insult her like this?” I was speechless. Deep in thought. Falling into self-doubt. “I originally wanted to spend some quality time with you tonight, but it looks like you don’t need it!” Evan dropped that sentence and slammed the door as he left. Watching him leave, I truly found it baffling. Of course. It didn’t matter anymore. They were all irrelevant people. Not worth wasting my time trying to figure out his thoughts. 08 On the day of Leo’s birthday, I went to the party venue early. The large private room was crowded. Very lively. Leo arrived with Evan and Stella. The moment he saw me, he couldn’t hide the joy on his face. He’s only 6 after all. Not at an age where he can hide his feelings. And we had been separated for 10 days. It was perfectly normal for him to miss me when we suddenly saw each other. “Mom!” Leo called out to me loudly. At that moment, he was about to pull away from Stella’s hand to come to me. I saw Stella crouch down, looking at Leo somewhat sadly. She said: “Didn’t you promise me you’d stay with me the whole time today? You said you wouldn’t leave me alone, right?” Leo looked torn. But he still nodded obediently. Stella smiled beautifully: “I knew you were the best to me.” Her voice even carried a hint of a whine. Like she was acting spoiled. When the female lead acts spoiled, it is naturally flawless and beautiful. It doesn’t feel artificial or fake at all. No wonder men can’t resist. I didn’t bother them either. When the birthday party started, Leo took the microphone to give a speech. With his childish voice, he said: “Thank you everyone for coming to my 6th birthday party. Thank you to Dad and Mom for carefully preparing this birthday party for me…” He paused, then said loudly: “A special thanks to Aunt Stella. Aunt Stella is really good to me. My birthday wish is that she stays young and beautiful forever.” Stella was standing not far from me. There were tears of emotion in her eyes, moving to anyone who saw it. In that moment, I saw Evan’s hand gently pat Stella’s shoulder. And also in that moment. Evan’s gaze shifted to me. I quickly looked away. Afraid of intruding. After Leo finished speaking, everyone started eating. The party was a buffet. Just as I was leaving the food area holding a glass of red wine, I bumped right into Stella. The red wine spilled all over Stella’s white dress. Every last drop. “Chloe, why would you do this to me? Did I do something wrong?” Stella’s eyes turned red as she pitifully accused me. Before I could even speak. Evan quickly rushed in front of me, shielding Stella tightly behind him: “Chloe, enough! I’ve put up with you long enough lately!”

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The day the baby was born, I was so hollowed out I didn’t even have the breath to speak. Connor, however, looked like a man who had finally set down a heavy burden. He leaned in, his voice casual, and confessed everything. He told me that the person who had spent the last year destroying my life was my best friend. “We just got back from the motel. She’s still sleeping it off,” he said, not a trace of guilt in his eyes. “This past six months, you having her ‘keep an eye’ on me? It just made things easier for us.” But the blow that truly shattered me was his next admission: my own mother had known all along. “She didn’t want you to lose it while you were pregnant. We did it for your own good, Paige,” he murmured, his attention already shifting to the squirming infant in his arms. He poked at the baby’s cheek with a callous indifference. “Actually, Tiffany deserves some credit. Without her, I’m not sure this kid would have made it to full term.” Then, he threw out a choice so cruel it felt like a serrated blade to the throat: “So, you decide. Does she become the godmother, or do I just make her the legal mother?” My mind flashed back to the moment I first suspected him. He was away on that high-security engineering project, and I’d found the evidence of another woman. I hadn’t screamed. I hadn’t made a scene. I had simply handed him the positive pregnancy test and gave him two options: we get a divorce, or he cuts her out of his life forever. He had stared at the two pink lines for a long time before choosing us. Or so I thought. From that day on, he was the perfect husband. He reported his every move. Even Tiffany, my closest confidante, spent every lunch break telling me how lucky I was that he’d changed. I had let my guard down. I had chosen to believe in the redemption of our marriage. I never could have imagined it was all an elaborate, coordinated performance. … As the epidural began to wear off, a searing, white-hot pain radiated from my lower body. But no physical agony could compare to the rot spreading through my chest. I gripped the hospital sheets until my knuckles turned white, forcing the words out through a constricted throat. “Why… why did you wait until the baby was here to tell me?” Before he could answer, the door swung open. A group of Connor’s colleagues and former frat brothers burst in, laughing and smelling of cheap beer. “You lost the bet, Tiff! Paige didn’t cry!” one of them shouted. “That means the ‘work wife’ gets a victory kiss from the Lead Engineer!” “Come on!” another chimed in. “Tiffany spent time in London—those Europeans are way more open-minded. Show him what he’s been missing!” Tiffany laughed, a light, melodic sound that used to bring me comfort. She feigned a blush, swatting at them. “Shut up, guys. If HR hears you talking like that, they’ll have my head for being the ‘other woman’ before I even get my desk nameplate changed.” My pupils contracted. The term “work wife”—the way they said it—sounded like a title she’d already officially claimed. Seeing the raw horror on my face, Connor offered a flat, clinical explanation. “We had a wager. If you cried when you found out about Tiffany and me, I’d have to post a public apology on the company bulletin board. If you stayed stoic, Tiffany and I get to go public without the drama.” He spoke as if he were discussing a project deadline. He tilted his head, a smirk playing on his lips. “Oh, I guess you didn’t know. Tiffany and I are actually the ones with the valid marriage license.” “Then what was our wedding?” my voice cracked, tears finally spilling over. “What was that ceremony? The papers we signed?” In an instant, the room went quiet, but it wasn’t a respectful silence. It was the silence of people watching a car crash. “Paige, sweetie, you really didn’t realize?” one of the guys whispered, his eyes dancing with malice. “The license you signed with Connor was a prop. He filed the real paperwork with Tiffany months ago.” Tiffany stepped toward the bed, reaching out to take my hand with a mock-sympathetic smile. “Paige, we didn’t tell you for your own sake. We wanted the baby to have a stress-free environment.” It was the exact same script Connor had used. My blood turned to ice. Ten months ago, when I ran to my mother with my suspicions, she had looked me in the eye and said, “If you leave now, you’re just handing him to the other woman. Men stray, Paige. It’s what they do. But I can tell, Connor truly loves you.” She had talked me into staying. She had talked me into silence. And Tiffany… my best friend. She had volunteered to be my informant. She told me every detail of Connor’s schedule. She even “complained” to me about how tired she was from working late nights at the office with him. I felt so bad for her that I’d buy her expensive coffee and give her my spa gift cards, thinking she was burning the candle at both ends for our family’s future. Even last week, she’d sat by my bed and told me that after the baby was born, I needed to “reclaim my power” and be an independent woman. Now I realized she was the woman I’d been hunting. While I was struggling through every night of pregnancy—the nausea, the swollen ankles, the crushing loneliness—they were together. They were laughing at me. I began to shake so violently that the IV in my arm dislodged. Blood began to bloom across the white tape, dripping onto the linoleum floor. I didn’t care. Suddenly, every cold look from my mother-in-law made sense. Every time Connor’s students treated me like an outsider while doting on Tiffany like she was the Queen of the Department. I was the only one who didn’t know the joke was on me. The sight of my own blood finally jolted me back to reality. “What are you doing? You’re in recovery, you need to be careful,” Connor said, his voice suddenly shifting back to that terrifyingly gentle husband-persona. He pressed a hand over the puncture wound in my arm while holding a cup of lukewarm broth to my lips. I looked at him, my eyes burning. “Connor, why?” “Why the lies? The fake marriage? The career? What part of us was real?” My chest heaved. I was spiraling. Connor set the broth down, his eyes—the eyes I used to think were full of warmth—turning to cold, hard flint. “You might have forgotten five years ago, Paige. But I didn’t.” He stood up, looking down at me with a dark sense of triumph. “Five years ago, when the company went under and I was facing that federal investigation, when I was sick and broke and losing everything… Tiffany was the one who sold her car and took a night job to pay for my legal defense and my meds. You? You were too busy trying to distance yourself so your ‘reputation’ wouldn’t be tarnished.” He leaned in closer, his voice a lethal whisper. “But you didn’t get away clean, did you? You got exactly what you deserved that night in the city.” I froze. A chill that had nothing to do with the hospital AC settled in my marrow. Five years ago, Tiffany was the one who had been terrified of the scandal. She was the one who told me she knew some “investors” who could help Connor, but they were dangerous men. She had lured me to that hotel, promising they had the evidence to clear his name. I went there for him. I endured three hours of hell at the hands of those men because I thought it was the only way to save Connor’s life. When I finally escaped and found Connor, I was covered in bruises, clutching the “files” Tiffany said would help. But instead of a savior, I found him with the police and his lawyers. “Paige, what have you been doing?” he had spat back then, looking at my torn clothes with pure disgust. “You’re out here sleeping with low-lifes while I’m fighting for my life?” He had never let me explain. He told me he never wanted to hear about that night again. But he actually believed Tiffany was the one who saved him. “If you think I’m such a coward,” I whispered, “then why stay? Why the five years of pretending?” Connor wiped a stray drop of blood from my arm, his gaze drifting toward Tiffany, who was laughing by the door. “Tiffany can’t have children because of the ‘stress’ she went through helping me back then,” he said, his voice hardening. “I owed her a child. And you? You owed me a debt.” He paused, his expression curdling into loathing. “I tried to move past it. But every time I looked at you, I thought about Tiffany’s sacrifice and then I thought about you… getting caught in a hotel with those thugs. It made me sick. You made me sick.” I started to laugh. It was a jagged, hysterical sound that tore at my stitches. For five years, I had subjected myself to every experimental fertility treatment, every painful hormone injection, every “miracle” diet, all because I thought I was difficult to impregnate. I had scarred my body and my mind to give a child to the man I loved. And the whole time, I was just a surrogate for a lie. Connor reached out to wipe my tears, his touch clinical. “Don’t cry. It’s not like I’m going to stop supporting you. You can stay in the guest house. You’ll still be the ‘Mrs. Sterling’ everyone sees at the charity galas. Just… give the baby to Tiffany. Let her raise him.” The dam finally broke. I sat up, ignoring the agonizing pull in my abdomen, and screamed. “In your dreams! This is fraud, Connor! I will take this to the board! I will go to the police! I will ruin both of you!” Connor didn’t even flinch. He just looked at me with pity. “Go ahead. Report me. But just know, if you do, you’ll never see that baby again. I have the resources, Paige. You have nothing.” I didn’t believe him. Not at first. I tried to reach out to our “friends” in the gated community, people who had toasted to our happiness for years. But one by one, the doors closed. Some said they were too busy; others told me flat out they didn’t want to get involved in “Connor’s private business.” By that afternoon, I was moved out of my private suite and onto a gurney in a crowded, noisy hallway. Connor’s doing. I could handle the humiliation, but the baby couldn’t. He cried incessantly for an hour. People walking by glared at me, muttering about “irresponsible mothers.” One woman, frustrated by the noise, actually knocked a cup of hot coffee onto my bed and told me to “shut that brat up or get out.” When Connor finally returned, he saw me slumped over the edge of the bed, my gown soaked in blood and cold coffee. “The regional board is coming through the hospital today for an inspection,” he said, adjusting his tie. “I’ll be introducing Tiffany as my wife to the directors. Stay quiet, Paige. Don’t make a scene.” He gave me a perfunctory pat on the shoulder, promised he’d “keep me safe” if I cooperated, and then took the baby away to be fed. I collapsed. My entire life had been a carefully constructed trap. Connor was the brilliant “Golden Boy” of the tech world. To marry me, he’d supposedly defied his wealthy parents, enduring their disapproval for years. He’d bought me the designer bags, the Volvo, the house in the suburbs. He’d used his influence to get me a position at the city’s top arts foundation. At every gala, he’d bragged about my talent. When I’d had a health scare a few years back, he’d stayed by my side, crying, telling the doctors he’d give everything he owned to save me. It was all a lie. Five years of a meticulously crafted fiction designed to keep me in place until I could produce a child for Tiffany. But they weren’t just taking the baby. They were stripping me of my dignity, my career, and my sanity to make room for her. Connor eventually brought the baby back, seemingly wanting to watch me suffer a little longer. I gritted my teeth. I needed money. I needed to get to the Foundation and withdraw my year-end bonus so I could run. But when I called the office, they told me I’d been replaced. My bonus and my seat on the board for the upcoming gala had been handed to Tiffany. I was blacklisted. The baby started crying again. I begged Connor’s aunt, who was passing by, to help me soothe him. She just looked at me with cold eyes. “Paige, your ‘services’ aren’t worth a tenth of what Connor brings to this family. I’m not lifting a finger.” Desperate, I tried to check back into a room, but the nurse just shook her head. “Mr. Sterling withdrew the payment. If you want a bed, you’ll have to pay the private rate upfront.” I had thirty dollars in my pocket. With my legs shaking and my body still reeling from the birth, I tucked the baby into his carrier and began the long walk home. The front door to our house was ajar. My heart hammered against my ribs—I thought we’d been robbed. But then I heard the voices coming from the master bedroom. “Connor… what if Paige finds us?” It was Tiffany. I pushed the door open. They were on the bed—our bed. Tiffany was beneath him, the rhythmic creak of the mattress a sickening metronome. When they saw me standing there, pale and trembling, Connor didn’t pull away. He just looked over his shoulder and smirked. “What’s the matter, Paige? You’ve been watching for a while. Want to join in?” I felt the bile rise in my throat. I shielded the baby’s eyes, but Tiffany just laughed. “Paige, your own mother told me… she said I was your best friend, and if I could satisfy Connor’s needs while you were ‘out of commission,’ it was better than him going to a stranger. She’s the one who pushed us together.” The room spun. I turned and ran out of the house, screaming at the top of my lungs for the neighbors to hear. “Everyone! Look at him! Look at the great Connor Sterling! He’s a fraud! He’s been married to this woman the whole time! They’ve been lying to everyone! He’s using his position to threaten me and take my child!” I was hysterical, my face flushed with a desperate, suicidal rage. “Have you had enough?” Connor asked, stepping onto the porch with Tiffany, both of them fully dressed now. “You’re making a fool of yourself in front of the whole neighborhood.” I didn’t care. If I was going down, I was taking them with me. But before I could speak again, Tiffany stepped forward and slapped me across the face so hard my ears rang. “Paige! I treated you like a sister, and you’re trying to seduce my husband?” she cried, her eyes instantly welling with fake tears. “The board members are on their way here! Everyone knows how hard Connor works for this community, and you’re trying to destroy him because you’re mentally unstable?” The neighbors, people I’d hosted for dinner parties, started to gather. “She’s always been trouble,” one woman hissed. “I heard about what happened five years ago. Once a tramp, always a tramp.” “Connor is a saint for putting up with her,” another added. “Get her out of here! She’s a disgrace to the neighborhood!” Connor sighed, playing the part of the grieving, exhausted husband. “Everyone, I didn’t want it to come to this. But for the sake of the truth… I swear, I have never been unfaithful to the values of this community. Paige’s claims are the delusions of a woman who’s been obsessed with me since I tried to help her out of the gutter.” My heart shattered. I looked at the crowd. I saw the woman whose son I’d helped find when he got lost at the mall. I saw the kids I’d bought expensive chocolates for. They were all looking at me with disgust. “Slut!” someone yelled. A stone—or maybe a piece of gravel—caught me in the forehead. The physical assault began. Not with fists at first, but with shoves. My hair was pulled. I felt my postpartum bandages shift, the scent of blood and sweat filling the air. Tiffany looked at me with pure revulsion. “Oh my god, Paige. Did you just leak on the driveway? That’s disgusting.” The crowd backed away as if I were a leper. “Keep that filth away from us!” I curled around the baby, shielding him with my broken body. I don’t know how long it lasted. I felt my clothes tear, felt the sting of spit on my skin. Connor finally walked over, looking down at me with mock pity. “I’ll give you one last chance, Paige. Admit who you really are. Admit the truth.” I looked at my shoes, my vision blurring. Suddenly, Tiffany lunged forward and snatched the baby from my arms. “Are you even a mother? The baby is choking and you’re just sitting there!” “Give him back!” I shrieked, reaching for my son. Tiffany put her hand around the baby’s neck, her eyes cold as a snake’s. “Stay back, or I swear, you’ll watch him take his last breath.” I froze. My heart stopped beating. I watched, paralyzed, as Tiffany told the crowd that I had been abusing the child, that I had attacked her. “Paige, you’re insane! You’d hurt your own son just to get back at me?” Connor shouted. He kicked me in the side, sending me sprawling into the dirt, before picking Tiffany up and carrying her into the house. I tried to crawl after them, but someone grabbed my collar. A sharp pain exploded at the back of my head. The world went black. When I opened my eyes, I was lying in a secluded patch of woods on the edge of town. My clothes were rags. Panic surged through me. “Who’s there? Where’s Connor?” A group of men—the kind of men Connor’s “security” team usually handled—were standing around me. One of them reached out and touched my leg, his eyes gleaming with a sick hunger. “You don’t know? Your man sold you to us. Said we could have our way as long as you didn’t come back.” Sold? My body began to convulse with tremors. “No. Connor… he wouldn’t. Not even him…” But then, the truth hit me like a freight train.

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I accidentally stumbled upon my husband’s search history on his phone. The top query read: “How to make your wife die accidentally during childbirth?” I touched my seven-month pregnant belly, a cold sweat breaking out across my back. 01 It was evening, and my husband was taking a shower. I was in the living room, putting together my hospital bag. My phone was dead, so I instinctively picked up his to look up some labor preparation tips. But I accidentally swiped into his search history. Two queries instantly grabbed my attention: “How to make a pregnant woman die accidentally during childbirth?” “Inheritance order after the accidental death of a spouse?” I froze on the spot, thinking my eyes were playing tricks on me. I checked again and again, but it was real. He had actually searched for this. But why? Why would he search for something like this? I rubbed my seven-month pregnant belly, a chilling wave creeping up my spine. “Honey, I forgot my towel! It’s in the cabinet, can you grab it for me?” my husband yelled from the bathroom. I hesitated for a second, then quickly deleted those two search queries before setting his phone down. I got up and fetched his towel. The moment he stepped out of the bathroom, he immediately picked up his phone and checked it. I saw a visible wave of relief wash over his face. He rubbed his hair with the towel and asked, “Honey, are you washing your hair tonight? I can help you.” “N-no… no thanks,” I cleared my throat. “I feel a little chilled. I think I’m just going to go to bed.” With that, I got up and walked toward the bedroom. Hearing that I felt chilled, he immediately followed me, asking a dozen concerned questions. He reminded me that I was in my third trimester and needed to be extra careful with my health. Looking at this incredibly attentive, thoughtful man in front of me, I couldn’t possibly connect him to the horrifying search history on his phone… 02 My name is Chloe, and I’ve been married to Mark for almost two years. It’s his second marriage; he has a six-year-old son from his previous marriage who lives with his ex-wife. This is my first marriage, and I’m currently seven months pregnant. Perhaps because it was his second marriage, he treated me exceptionally well. He never let me do any chores; he even hand-washed my underwear. Since I got pregnant, he’s taken care of me meticulously. Now that I’m in my third trimester, my whole body is swollen, and I can’t even bend over. Every day, he brings me a basin of warm water to wash my face and feet. All our friends and relatives envy me for finding such a good husband. He even insisted on scheduling a C-section for my delivery because he was terrified of me being in pain, and he already booked a luxury postpartum care center for me… I couldn’t understand it. Why would a universally praised “perfect husband” secretly search for something so sinister? I couldn’t sleep at all that night. Once I was absolutely certain he was in a deep sleep, I slipped his phone out from under his pillow. I opened the browser again, only to find that his entire search history had been wiped clean, and the browser was now set to incognito mode. When I used his phone earlier, it definitely wasn’t in incognito mode. He must have changed the settings right after his shower. I combed through all his social media apps, transaction histories, emails, photo albums, and even his food delivery apps. I found absolutely nothing suspicious. It was too clean. It was as clean as a brand-new phone. The cleaner it was, the more paranoid I became. As I put his phone down, I suddenly remembered an article I read a few days ago about how many modern smartphones have a “Dual Space” or hidden operating system feature. I quickly grabbed my own phone and searched for his specific phone model. Following the online tutorial, I typed in the shortcut, and sure enough, a completely different operating system login screen appeared. But it required a password. 03 Mark and I had always shared the same phone passcode. He always said husband and wife shouldn’t have secrets. And I had always believed him. But right now, staring at the hidden system on his phone, I felt completely helpless. I didn’t know the password. I tried his birthday, my birthday, our anniversary… all incorrect. One more wrong attempt and it would lock me out for half an hour. Suddenly, a string of numbers flashed through my mind. I typed them in, and to my shock, it worked. With a soft ding, the phone unlocked. And I saw a completely different Mark. This system looked like the one he actually used every day. It was filled with traces of his real life: photos, texts, social media chats… I saw that he was still in constant contact with his ex-wife, frequently transferring money to her. His ex-wife kept reminding him to make absolutely sure I had a C-section, because once I was on the operating table, they could easily manipulate the situation… I saw his chat logs with an online lawyer, asking to confirm that if a wife dies, the husband is the primary inheritor of her estate… I saw him sending pictures of the massive life insurance policy he bought for me a year ago, calculating exactly how much payout he would get when I died… In an instant, everything made sense. A year ago, Mark suddenly bought two massive life insurance policies—one for him, one for me, naming each other as the sole beneficiaries. He said at the time, “Honey, I’m always on the road for sales, constantly taking flights and trains. I need to make sure you’re protected.” I remember crying and stopping him, telling him not to say such stupid things, that we would be together forever, for a long, long time. Tears blurred my vision. With trembling hands, I scrolled further down. Finally, his ex-wife asked him: [What if the baby in her stomach survives the birth? Are you going to get soft-hearted?] He swore up and down that absolutely wouldn’t happen, claiming that his only child in this lifetime would be Leo. Leo. His six-year-old son with his ex-wife. The password I just used to unlock this hidden system was Leo’s birthday. They were the real family of three. And I? I was just their stepping stone to a wealthy life in the city. I had a house, a car, and premium urban residency status… “Honey, what are you looking at?” Just as I was completely absorbed in the messages, the person next to me shifted. Mark was awake. 04 He propped himself up on his elbow, instinctively leaning over to see my screen. In that split second, a million horrifying scenarios flashed through my mind. If he realized I had discovered his secret, would he snap and try to kill me right here, right now? I was heavily pregnant; I stood absolutely zero chance against him in a physical fight. Over the two years of our marriage, he had meticulously won the absolute trust of all my friends and family, building an impenetrable “perfect husband” persona. If I died tonight, no one would even suspect him. “Honey, my stomach is really acting up,” I said, putting one hand on my belly while my other hand quickly held down the power button on his phone to shut it off. “Your phone died. Can you help me find mine?” As long as his phone was off, he wouldn’t know I had accessed the hidden system. He pulled my phone out from under my pillow. “Why is your stomach hurting? You’re only seven months along. Did you eat something bad?” “I need to go to the bathroom,” I said, snatching my phone from him and waddling as fast as I could to the master bathroom. I quickly locked the door. Trembling, I sent a text to my younger brother: “Come pick me up right now. Don’t ask questions. Don’t call me. Just come. NOW.” Just as I hit send, a knock sounded on the bathroom door. “Honey, are you okay? Does it still hurt?” I wiped the cold sweat from my forehead and tried to sound as normal as possible. “Honey, I suddenly have a huge craving for those spring rolls from that 24-hour diner outside the neighborhood. Could you go buy some for me?” It was a diner we used to sneak out to for late-night snacks all the time. He hesitated for a second, but agreed. I listened to him rustling around, putting on his clothes, and then heard the distinct sound of the front door closing. I didn’t leave the bathroom immediately. I waited another minute to make sure he was gone, then stood on my tiptoes to peek out the frosted bathroom window. I saw him wearing a baseball cap, jogging toward the neighborhood entrance. I let out a massive breath of relief, unlocked the door, and hurried out. I called my brother while riding the elevator down. But the moment I stepped out of the elevator into the lobby, a tall shadow blocked my path. “Honey, where are you going?” It was Mark. He hadn’t left at all. He had been waiting for me in the lobby the whole time. 05 It was dead silent. Even the streetlights outside had flickered off. I took a deep breath and carefully studied his expression. I didn’t see any obvious hostility or suspicion. I forced myself to smile, walking up and looping my arm through his, just like I normally would. “Honey, I was so hungry, and you were taking forever, so I just came down to find you.” He looked at me with a helpless, doting smile. “You little glutton. Who told you to skip dinner? I forgot my wallet upstairs, I was just about to go back up and get it.” “I brought my phone, I can pay. Let’s go,” I said, steering us toward the neighborhood gate. The diner owner greeted us warmly, just like usual. While we were waiting for the spring rolls, my brother, Tyler, pulled up in his truck. I rushed over to him before Mark could react. “Is Dad okay? Is his heart acting up again? I’ll come home with you right now.” Tyler looked at me, completely confused. Mark had already walked over. “What’s wrong? What happened to your dad?” I answered quickly, “It’s nothing serious, just his old chronic issue acting up again. Honey, I’m gonna go stay at my parents’ house with my brother tonight. You go home and get some sleep, you have work tomorrow.” Saying that, I quickly climbed into the passenger seat of Tyler’s truck. “Honey, it’s so late, let me come with you,” Mark said, reaching for the door handle. I quickly stopped him. “It’s fine! It’s just Dad’s usual flair-up, I just need to check on him. Tyler’s driving, what are you worried about?” Mark thought for a second, then nodded. “Alright. I’ll come pick you up after work tomorrow.” As the truck pulled away, I watched Mark’s figure shrink in the rearview mirror. Only then did I finally let myself breathe. 06 On the drive, Tyler demanded to know what the hell was going on. Calling him in the middle of the night, telling him not to speak… I hesitated, but finally told him everything I had found in Mark’s hidden phone system. Hearing it all, Tyler instinctively slammed on the brakes, pulling over to the side of the road. “Chloe, are you sure you’re not mistaken? Mark treats you like a queen. How could he possibly do something like this? Is there a misunderstanding?” See? Even my own brother didn’t believe it. Mark’s “perfect husband” facade was flawless. If I died, absolutely no one would suspect him. “Do you think I’d joke about my own life?” I asked him. Tyler looked at my face, finally realizing the gravity of the situation. He gripped the steering wheel tight. “I’m going to go find that bastard right now and beat him half to death.” I quickly stopped him. “Tyler, don’t be stupid! We don’t have any hard evidence right now. The chat logs are in his phone, he can delete them the second he suspects anything.” “Then what do we do? We go to the cops.” “It’s useless. Without proof, they won’t believe a pregnant woman claiming her husband is plotting to kill her. Tyler, take me home first. We need to plan this out carefully, and we can’t tell Mom and Dad yet.” Tyler agreed and drove me to my parents’ house. Early the next morning, he sent me a link. It was a fake online legal consultation website he had a programmer friend build overnight. “Doesn’t Mark love consulting lawyers online? Find a way to get him to visit this site. As long as he uses it, I can track his keystrokes and secure the evidence.” I was impressed by my brother’s speed. Using my marketing background, I ran a targeted ad for the website, then anonymously emailed the link to Mark’s private inbox. Then, I had Tyler take me to my current hospital. I requested copies of all my prenatal records and immediately booked my delivery at a different, private hospital across town. Just as I finished the paperwork, I saw Mark’s ex-wife, Sarah, walking into the hospital. She was holding Leo’s hand as the kid skipped along happily. Behind them was a middle-aged man I didn’t recognize. 07 Mark’s ex-wife, Sarah, was actually a moderately famous mommy vlogger. She gained a massive following by documenting her daily life raising her son. Her son supposedly suffered from congenital heart disease, and she built her entire brand around the persona of a “strong, independent single mother holding up the sky for her sick child.” If I hadn’t seen those monstrous chat logs with my own eyes last night, I probably would have been moved by her brave, resilient mother persona too. Thinking of this, I instinctively pulled out my phone and recorded a video of the three of them walking into the pediatrics wing together. I followed them discreetly. They left shortly after getting Leo a routine check-up. Once they were gone, Tyler and I slipped a nurse a hundred bucks to get a copy of Leo’s medical report. The report showed he was perfectly healthy. Leo didn’t have any heart condition whatsoever. I tucked the report into my bag, planning to post it anonymously online later. When I got back to my parents’ house, Mark was already there. He looked like he had just gotten off work, still wearing his company polo, carrying two expensive gift boxes. He looked like the picture of a polite, respectful son-in-law. That was exactly how he had fooled me. That polished, gentlemanly facade. I had demanded no ring, no house, and no car, marrying this divorced man purely out of love. When he walked in, he greeted my dad warmly, then pulled a bag of spring rolls from his pocket. “Honey, I know you were craving these last night, so I brought you some fresh ones.” Then, he smoothly rolled up his sleeves and went into the kitchen to help my mom cook. Tyler was glaring at him with such intense hatred I had to drag him into a bedroom. I pulled two bottles of expensive liquor from my dad’s cabinet. “Whether we get the evidence today depends entirely on you.” Tyler immediately understood the assignment. During dinner, Tyler relentlessly poured drinks for Mark. Tyler works in corporate sales; his alcohol tolerance is legendary. He once drank an entire table of clients under the table. Under Tyler’s relentless assault, Mark quickly surrendered, passing out face-down on the dining table. I grabbed his phone, unlocked the hidden system, and quickly AirDropped all the evidence files to my laptop. Just as I was about to put the phone back, Tyler snatched it from me. “Just getting his chat logs isn’t enough. Let me leave him a little present.” He typed furiously on Mark’s phone, handed it back to me, and then installed an app on my phone. When I opened the app, I could see a live mirror of Mark’s phone screen. He had installed spyware. 08 “A buddy of mine developed it. Just leave him a five-star review on the app store when this is over,” Tyler explained. While we were doing all this, my parents were in the living room, completely unaware of what we were up to, so they didn’t ask any questions. With everything secured, I compiled the medical report I got today, along with a covert audio recording of a pediatric cardiologist confirming the kid was healthy, into a video. I posted it anonymously to a gossip forum. Sarah was a well-known influencer. A video exposing her fake “sick child” grift instantly went viral. People started digging through her old videos, pointing out massive inconsistencies. The backlash was brutal. People accused her of being a sociopathic scammer, cursing her own child just for engagement and donations… Customers who bought the products she promoted started demanding refunds, threatening to sue her for fraud… In a matter of hours, her comment section became an absolute warzone. I sat in my old bedroom, scrolling through the comments and waiting. Sure enough, in the middle of the night, Mark’s phone lit up in the guest room. It was Sarah. She was crying hysterically, begging him to look at the trending topics and asking what she should do. Mark panicked. He told her not to worry and that he was coming over immediately. The second Mark left my parents’ house, I woke Tyler up, wanting him to drive me to follow Mark. “Chloe, you’re heavily pregnant. It’s too dangerous. I’ll go alone. You stay here and monitor his phone screen.” With that, Tyler grabbed his keys and rushed out the door. I went back to my room, my eyes glued to the phone screen. Aside from Mark opening his chat app to scroll through his old messages with me, he didn’t do anything suspicious. As dawn approached, I still hadn’t heard from Tyler. I was starting to get worried and was just about to call him when I heard a heavy thud from the living room. It sounded like something large had collapsed onto the floor. I threw my door open and gasped. My dad was lying flat on his back on the hardwood floor. His eyes were wide open, staring blankly at the ceiling, his limbs twitching sporadically. “Dad! Dad, what’s wrong?!” I screamed, rushing over to him. My dad’s eyes darted toward the phone lying next to his hand. His trembling finger pointed at the screen. It was playing Sarah’s newest video. She looked pitiful, tears streaming down her face, holding up a stack of (forged) medical documents. She claimed she never lied, that Leo really did have a severe heart condition when he was younger, and that it had only recently been cured through surgery. She then claimed she knew exactly who was behind the “vicious smear campaign.” And then, she displayed a photo of Mark and me. She stated that I was the homewrecker who destroyed her family, stole her husband, and now, jealous of her success online, was trying to ruin her life. She even leaked heavily edited chat logs between Mark and me from back when she and Mark were still legally married… Finally. She sobbed into the camera: [Chloe, you’re younger than me, you’re prettier than me. When you stole my husband and destroyed my family, I knew I couldn’t compete. I wanted to die. Leo was the only reason I kept living. I only have him left. I don’t have an education, I don’t know how to speak eloquently, I just make silly little videos to earn enough to feed my son. Why won’t you let us go? Chloe, I’m begging you, for the love of God, please spare us. I’ll get on my knees for you, I’ll beg you…] She literally got on her knees and bowed to the camera, crying hysterically, painting me as a demonic, sociopathic villain… The internet mob instantly turned on me. They cursed me for being a shameless homewrecker, wishing death on me and my unborn child… My dad had seen the video, suffered a massive stroke from the shock, and collapsed. “Dad, it’s a lie, it’s not what you think. Please don’t panic, I’m calling an ambulance right now.” I cried, grabbing my phone to dial 911. Just then, the front door clicked open. I thought it was Tyler coming back. I looked up, asking for help, but froze. Standing in the doorway was Mark. His face was darker than I had ever seen it. His pitch-black eyes churned with a terrifying, murderous rage. “You posted the video exposing Leo, didn’t you?” he asked, stepping inside and locking the front door behind him. 09 “I don’t know what you’re talking about! My dad just had a stroke because of the video your ex-wife posted! I have to get him to the hospital!” I yelled, trying to support my dad’s head while dialing 911. But Mark violently snatched the phone from my hand. “I asked you a question, Chloe. I want an explanation. Why are you framing Sarah?” He towered over me, looking down with cold, dead eyes. His gentle, caring husband persona was completely gone, replaced by the face of a violent stranger. I could clearly see the murderous intent in his eyes… Thinking about the chat logs where they plotted my death, I scrambled backward in sheer terror. “M-Mark…” “What’s going on? Chloe, what happened?” My mom heard the commotion and hurried out of the master bedroom, pulling a cardigan over her shoulders. When she saw my dad twitching on the floor, her legs gave out. “Oh my god! Honey! What happened to you?!” Seeing my mom, the demonic look on Mark’s face instantly vanished, replaced by his usual calm demeanor. He cleared his throat. “It looks like a stroke. Let’s get him to the hospital.” He stepped forward, reaching out to help lift my dad, but I subtly blocked his hands. “N-no need. I already called an ambulance.” The paramedics arrived quickly, and my dad was rushed to the ER. Thank God we got him there in time. After emergency treatment, he was stabilized, but he remained paralyzed on his right side and needed to stay in the ICU for observation. Mark stayed by my side the entire time. He ran around paying the hospital fees, handling the paperwork, and comforting my weeping mother. Watching him, I almost convinced myself that the terrifying monster I saw in the apartment was just a hallucination. But only almost. I knew exactly how terrifying this man truly was. Tyler rushed into the hospital shortly after. When he saw Mark, he froze for a second. “How’s Dad? He was perfectly fine yesterday, how did he suddenly have a stroke?” he asked me. “He’s stabilized, but the doctor said the recovery will be brutal. He might be in a wheelchair for the rest of his life,” I sobbed, unable to hold back the tears. Tyler swayed on his feet. He shot a dark glare at Mark, then asked me, “What caused it?” I didn’t hold back. I told him everything about Sarah’s retaliation video. The moment Tyler heard the full story, he spun around and delivered a brutal right hook directly to Mark’s jaw. “You son of a bitch! Is this how you treat my sister?! Are you and your psycho ex-wife ever going to stop?!” Mark stumbled backward from the force of the punch. “Tyler, what gives you the right to hit me?! You framed Leo first! Sarah was just giving you a taste of your own medicine!” “Whether your ‘son’ is sick or not, or whether your ex-wife is a scamming fraud, YOU fucking know the truth better than anyone! You absolute piece of garbage! My sister was blind to ever marry you!” Tyler roared, launching a vicious kick at Mark’s ribs. Mark hit the floor hard. He scrambled up, raising his fists to fight back, but I quickly grabbed Tyler’s arm. “Stop it. Go home, Mark. Tyler is furious right now, don’t push him.” Tyler shoved Mark toward the elevator. “Get the hell out of here before I kill you.” Mark cursed under his breath, wiped the blood from his lip, and stormed off. Once he was completely gone, Tyler pulled a thick stack of printed documents from his jacket. “This is what I found today.” He explained that after he left the house at dawn, he tailed Mark all the way to Sarah’s luxury apartment complex. But because he didn’t have a resident pass, security wouldn’t let him in. While he was pacing outside taking photos, trying to figure out how to sneak in, he spotted a middle-aged man pacing near the gate too. It was the same man we had seen with Sarah at the hospital. The man was clearly trying to see Sarah, but he was also being blocked by security. Tyler used his connections to run a background check on the guy. The man’s last name was Miller. He was a wealthy real estate contractor. Turns out, he had been sleeping with Sarah long before she ever married Mark. Even after Sarah married Mark, she never broke it off with Miller. They had been carrying on an affair the entire time. After Sarah and Mark divorced, she and Miller practically moved in together. And Mark? He had absolutely zero clue this man even existed. “Leo’s paternity is highly questionable,” I blurted out instinctively.

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I had been married to Pierce for five years, and for five years, he had been as cold as a tomb. When his mother pulled me aside that afternoon and pressed a small, discreet package into my hand—a “little help” to spark the fire, she’d whispered—I actually felt a flicker of hope. That night, when he was “sent” to my room by her decree, I was naive enough to believe our hollow marriage was finally turning a corner. I was wrong. I found the pinhole camera while I was showering, tucked into a dark corner of the marble tiles, its tiny lens shimmering like a predatory eye. By the next morning, the footage was everywhere. It wasn’t just leaked; it was being auctioned off as a “Mystery Box” on a private, high-stakes streaming site. I stood outside his study, the door cracked just enough for the bile-slicked laughter of his friends to pour out. They were crowded around a monitor, their words a jagged edge against my skin. “Damn, Pierce,” one of them chuckled, clapping him on the shoulder. “You’re really putting Norma up as a public service? First the shower show, and now a raffle? You’re actually going to let some random stranger have a go at her?” Pierce leaned back, a cloud of expensive cigar smoke curling around his head. His lip curled in a smirk that tasted of pure disdain. “I promised Mallory years ago I’d never touch Norma. It’s her own fault for being desperate enough to crawl into my bed last night. If she wants to be ‘satisfied’ so badly, I’m just letting her enjoy the experience.” … The roar of laughter that followed nearly took the roof off. “The Ice Queen is actually a closet slut! Who knew?” “But for real, Pierce—when the ‘Mystery Box’ winner shows up to claim the prize, it’s going to be full contact. You’re not worried she’ll make a scene?” Pierce flicked an ash, his expression bored. “She brought this on herself. If she hadn’t forced this marriage on me, Mallory wouldn’t have fled to Paris in a heartbreak. Mallory hasn’t called me once in five years because of her.” He leaned forward, his voice dropping to a confidential, cruel conspiratorial tone. “And you guys don’t see it. I’ve caught her taking matters into her own hands more than once. She’s like a parched garden; she’ll take whatever water she can get. A woman that hungry won’t fight. She’ll probably thank us.” The room erupted again, a chorus of predatory agreement. “Serves her right for thinking she could replace Mallory. Now that Mallory’s back from her ‘exile,’ it’s time Norma learned where she actually fits in the food chain.” I felt like I was drowning in a wave of cold, black ink. Since our wedding night, Pierce and I had been strangers in the same house. We slept in separate wings. I had watched the other women in our social circle announce pregnancies, throw lavish baby showers, and build lives. I had tried to fight for us once. I had demanded to know why he wouldn’t even look at me. He had unbuckled his belt in front of me that night, his eyes burning with a terrifying, icy rage. “Look at me, Norma,” he’d spat. “I feel absolutely nothing when I look at you. Not even a spark. Have some self-respect and stay in your own room.” He’d practically thrown me out of the master suite, naked and shivering, while the house staff pretended not to hear my humilation. I spent years thinking I was the problem. I took hormones that made me sick; I underwent countless tests until my arms were a roadmap of needle bruises. I carried the reputation of the “Cold Wife,” the woman who couldn’t keep her husband’s interest. And all this time, his “low libido” was just a shrine he’d built for Mallory. The absurdity of it was staggering. My mind drifted back to our wedding night, when his mother, Margaret, had sat me down in the library. “He and Mallory are just childhood friends, Norma. Give it time. Once you’re married, his heart will open to you.” Seeing my hesitation, she had offered a deal. A five-year contract. If, after five years, Pierce still hadn’t accepted me as his wife, I could leave with my dignity and a settlement. I hadn’t cared about the money. I had cared about him. But after five years of pouring myself into a void, he was selling me to the highest bidder. My heart felt like it was being crushed by a phantom hand. My phone buzzed incessantly in my pocket—notifications from the dark corners of the internet, comments tearing my dignity to shreds. With trembling fingers, I dialed Margaret. “The five-year mark is up,” I whispered into the receiver. “Please. Let me go.” I returned to the house in a daze. For the first time in years, Pierce was waiting for me. He handed me a glass of milk, his eyes uncharacteristically soft. He pointed to the bed, which was covered in a collection of silk ties and adult toys that made my blood run cold. He wrapped his arms around me from behind, his breath hot against my ear. “I’ve been too distant, Norma,” he murmured. “Let’s start slow. Just us and some toys. Don’t you want that?” I drank the milk, my brain fuddled by exhaustion and grief. But as his hands moved over me, I remembered the laughter in his study. I pushed him away. “Not tonight. I’m tired.” His face transformed instantly, the mask of affection slipping to reveal the jagged stone beneath. “You’ve been begging for a child for five years, Norma. Now that I’m offering to ‘help’ you, you’re playing hard to get?” He stripped me and shoved me onto the bed, but he didn’t stay. He took a call and walked out, locking the door behind him. I tried to get up, but my limbs felt like lead. My vision blurred. Through the haze, I saw the door open. Two figures entered—Pierce and Mallory. “You’re a genius,” Mallory giggled, her voice like wind chimes. “Drugged and surrounded by toys… the photos will be way more lucrative than the shower video. The ‘Mystery Box’ sales are going to skyrocket.” “I promised you, Mal,” Pierce said, his voice tender in a way it never was with me. “I’ll never touch her. She’s just the product.” I lay there, paralyzed, as hired “security” posed my limp body for the camera. I couldn’t scream. I couldn’t move. I could only watch the flashes of light explode against my skin like tiny, silent bombs. “I’ve always wondered what the Ice Queen looked like under those silk suits,” one of the guards muttered, his hand lingering too long on my hip. “Easy there,” another laughed. “Save it for the raffle. Buy a ticket like everyone else. I hear they’re even using that ‘compliance’ serum for the winner. It’s going to be a hell of a show.” Tears leaked from the corners of my eyes, the only part of me still under my control. Eventually, the room went dark. I don’t know how much time passed before Pierce kicked my foot with his designer shoe to wake me. “I told you to wait for me,” he said, his voice thick with feigned annoyance. “You fell asleep.” My body ached with a deep, systemic throb. Looking at his calm, handsome face, I almost doubted my own memory. He tossed my clothes at me as if touching them would contaminate him. Even after I layered up in a heavy sweater, the chill wouldn’t leave my bones. Pierce checked his phone, a frown creasing his brow. “My mother is flying back early. I wonder what’s up.” I looked away. “Maybe it’s just business.” He grunted, satisfied with that, and set his phone on the nightstand while he went to get a glass of water. The phone exploded with notifications. I reached for it. The group chat was a nightmare of scrolling text. “Those shots are filthier than I expected. Everyone knows she’s a total wreck now.” “The stream sales just cleared three hundred thousand. People are going to go feral for the raffle!” “The ‘Wife’ is still a looker, but after tonight, she’ll be too broken for anyone to want, even for free. Haha!” My mind went white. I looked toward the wastebasket. There, resting on top, were several used wrappers. The memory wasn’t a hallucination. While I was drifting in and out of a drug-induced stupor, Pierce and Mallory had used my bedroom—and my presence—as a backdrop for their own reunion. Pierce walked back in, seeing my tears. He rushed over, his face a mask of concern. “Norma? Baby, what’s wrong?” As he “comforted” me with one hand, I saw him glance at the phone with the other, a smirk ghosting across his lips before he hid it. He handed me the water, his voice casual. “You know Mallory is back, right? We’re throwing her a ‘Welcome Home’ dinner tomorrow at The Gilded Lily. You should come. Wear something… revealing.” At the mention of her name, my hand shook. The glass shattered on the floor. “I’m not going. I need to rest.” Pierce’s expression turned venomous. “I married you, and it drove her away for five years. Don’t you feel a shred of guilt? You’re going. I’m not letting you embarrass me by moping at home. It’s settled.” He didn’t see me as a person. I was a scapegoat, a product, and a prop. The next night, the VIP lounge at The Gilded Lily was packed with his “brothers” and Mallory. They looked like the elite of the city, all tailored suits and expensive watches, but their eyes were hungry as they tracked me. “Norma! Come sit over here,” one of the guys said, grabbing my arm and trying to pull me onto his lap. I recoiled as if he were a leper, terror vibrating through my marrow. Mallory let out a performative pout. “Stop it, you guys. Norma’s a ‘virtuous’ wife. I heard she only just ‘found herself’ recently. She’s sensitive.” The table erupted in knowing smirks. Pierce sat on the velvet sofa, sipping bourbon, looking at Mallory with pure adoration. “I’m leaving,” I whispered, my throat tight. “My friends are being nice to you,” Pierce’s voice cut through the air, cold as a razor. “Don’t be a ‘dead fish.’ Sit down.” I gritted my teeth. “Pierce, I am your wife.” He didn’t even blink. Mallory stood up, her silk dress shimmering, and draped an arm around my shoulders. “Norma, honey, sit with me. Pierce is just grumpy. He’s got a… sharp tongue… but he doesn’t mean it.” She and Pierce exchanged a look that dripped with a foul, shared secret. Mallory picked up a glass of champagne. “Look, I was immature before I left. I almost ruined your wedding. Let me apologize. Drink this, and let’s be friends.” I saw the bubbles dancing in the glass. My skin crawled. “I don’t drink.” Pierce sat up, his eyes darkening. “Don’t be ungrateful. She’s trying to be the bigger person. Drink it.” I stared him down, refusing to touch the glass. “Oh, don’t scare her, Pierce!” Mallory chirped. She swapped the champagne for a cup of steaming tea. “Just some hot water, then? For the nerves?” She winked at me, a playful, terrifying gesture. I looked at the expectant faces around the table. “I don’t want anything.” As I pushed the cup back, Mallory “tripped.” The hot water splashed onto the floor, and she let out a piercing shriek, clutching her arm and collapsing into Pierce’s chest. “Norma! I know you hate me, but you didn’t have to scald me!” she sobbed. Pierce lost it. “That is enough!” He gave a sharp nod. Before I could move, a heavy, wet cloth was clamped over my mouth and nose from behind. “Thought she might be jumpy,” a voice hissed in my ear. “Good thing we had the backup ready. The ‘Mystery Box’ event is live in ten minutes.” The chemical scent filled my lungs. My insides felt like they were being eaten by ants. I looked at Pierce, trying to scream through the fabric. Pierce, what are you doing? He avoided my eyes, stroking Mallory’s hair. “You love being touched, don’t you? As your husband, I’m just making sure you get exactly what you want tonight. Enjoy yourself, Norma.” The world began to tilt. “The participants are waiting,” Pierce told the men, checking his watch. “Move fast.” Hands began to roam over me. “Don’t worry, Boss. The penthouse suite is ready. It’s going to be a show they’ll never forget.” They threw me over a shoulder like a sack of grain. As they carried me toward the elevator, I glared at Pierce with every ounce of soul I had left. “You… will… regret… this,” I croaked. The elevator doors hissed shut. In the penthouse, they forced a pill down my throat. I thrashed on the floor, my screams turning into ragged gasps. Outside the door, I heard muffled footsteps. Pierce’s voice sounded momentarily hesitant. “I gave her the ‘compliance’ drop,” his friend said. “She won’t remember a single thing that happens tonight. Relax.” I lay on the floor, a broken doll waiting for the storm. Suddenly, the door burst open. Not a raffle winner. Not a stranger. “Pierce, you absolute monster! How could you do this to your own wife?” Margaret stood there, her face a mask of cold fury. I sobbed, a broken, visceral sound. With the last of my strength, I reached for the legal folder she held out. I signed the contract. Margaret’s security team swarmed the room, shielding me. They whisked me out through the service entrance. Back in the lounge, Pierce gave the signal to start the stream. “We’ve got thirty million viewers in the lobby!” his friend shouted. “The ‘Wife’ is the biggest draw we’ve ever had! Let’s see who wins the prize!” The chat was a blur of filth. The “draw” button was clicked. Pierce watched the screen, waiting for the feed from the penthouse to go live. But the room on the monitor was empty. “Where is she?” Pierce demanded. A voice like a whip-crack came from behind him. “Don’t bother looking, Pierce. Norma is no longer your wife.”

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Determined to study hard for my grad school entrance exams, I posted: [I’m dying. Quitting the game. Don’t look for me.] A few days later, I heard that a famous actor went crazy, mistaking a netizen for the love of his life. Later, by some twist of fate, I ended up in the entertainment industry. To steal resources, a two-faced actress intentionally set me up on a live reality show to disrespect the actor’s “dead” love. But it seems that “dead” love is… me? I’m still alive. What do I do now… 01 It was exam prep season again, and once more, I was screaming in frustration at my own laziness. My best friend, Chloe, rolled her eyes at me. “Audrey, if you don’t quit that game, you can forget about grad school. Keep dreaming.” I threw my phone down and started sulking. “What, still waiting for your gaming buddy?” Chloe patted my back. I stayed silent, just being stubborn. Even though my gaming buddy hadn’t been online for days, I wasn’t going to admit it. “Let it go. You’re just a random netizen to him. Focusing on your exams is what’s important,” she said. Ouch… This girl’s ability to stab me right in the heart is as strong as ever. Stabbing me right where it hurts the most. But I’m known for being stubborn to the bitter end. So I said, “It’s not because of him. I’m just addicted to the game.” “Fine, I’ll help you quit,” she said with an eye roll. I laughed. “Alright, if you can make it so I never log into that game again, I’ll admit you’re the boss.” “You said it, Audrey,” she said, grabbing my phone and frantically tapping away. A moment later, she tossed the phone back to me. “Done. I guarantee you’ll never dare log into this account again.” I had a bad feeling about this. I looked at the screen. My gaming profile had a new status update: AudreyA: [I’m dying. Quitting the game. Don’t look for me.] Then, all my cosmetic items—except for one limited-edition skin and the ones bound to my gaming buddy that couldn’t be gifted—were given away (mostly to Chloe herself, of course). My virtual pet, the cute little thing I always called my “daughter,” was transferred to my gaming buddy. She even left a message: [Take good care of our daughter.] Watching the DMs popping up one after another, my vision went dark, and I immediately logged off. She was right. I’d never dare log into this account again. Just pretend I’m dead. Socially dead. Later, I heard a rumor that a rising star, an actor who was quickly becoming an A-lister, suddenly went crazy. He completely abandoned his “single and available” image, risking his entire career, to search the world for the love of his life. And that love was a netizen he had never even met. Of course, I only heard passing mentions of this and didn’t know the details. At that time, I had already moved back to my hometown. A family member had fallen seriously ill. I was overwhelmed and had no time for anything else. Eventually, my family member recovered. I didn’t end up taking the grad school exams. Instead, through a bizarre twist of fate, I entered the entertainment industry, becoming an absolute nobody. Right now, I’m on my way to a live reality show. The famous actor, Liam Hayes, will also be there. A couple of days ago, a talented fan editor created a romantic montage of Liam and me, and a lot of netizens thought it was amazing. Liam’s team even reached out to my agency to discuss a potential collaboration. This reality show is basically a warm-up and a test run. Liam Hayes is that same rising star who went “crazy” before. He successfully became an A-lister. 02 “Audrey, remember, Liam is easy to talk to, but he has one absolute taboo: his dead first love.” In the car, my manager, Sarah, twisted my ear and lectured me. Liam’s “first love” stayed with him through his darkest times before he became famous. Back then, Liam had offended someone and was suppressed at every turn. He had no acting jobs; it was the darkest period of his life. But just when he finally achieved success, she died. Over the past year or so, countless women have tried to capitalize on his “first love” story, and they all met terrible ends. “This is your chance to make it big. Don’t screw it up,” Sarah said, poking my forehead. I nodded like a woodpecker and said, “Mission understood!” “Oh, and that two-faced Mia is also going to be there. Be careful,” Sarah added as I was getting out of the car. That woman, Mia, has been targeting me ever since I entered the industry. She’s stolen countless opportunities from me, pretended to be my best friend only to “accidentally” say things that got me tons of hate, and even paid for smear campaigns against me. She’s like gum stuck to the bottom of a shoe—annoying and impossible to get rid of. Thinking about her, I made a gagging face and got out of the car. … What I didn’t know was that a few hours ago… Mia was clinging to someone’s arm, saying, “David, you promised me. You have to make this happen.” “David” kissed her and said, “Don’t worry, it’s a done deal. Tonight, there will be an after-dinner game segment. I’ve arranged for Liam to draw the prompt to play ‘Elysium,’ the game he used to play with his dead first love.” “I’ve checked, and Audrey said she’s never played Elysium. Since her name is Audrey, I’ll have someone subtly suggest she use the username ‘Audrey.’ We’ll manipulate her into doing something that looks like she’s copying his first love’s old username, ‘AudreyA.’ I guarantee Liam will have her blacklisted from the industry by tomorrow.” “Also, you’ll play Elysium too. Remember, your persona in Elysium is the ‘skilled gamer.’ You need to criticize Audrey at the right moment. That way, both Liam and his fans will like you, and you can step over Audrey to get the collaboration opportunity.” Mia beamed with joy and sweetly said, “David~ You’re the best~” And then… … Of course, I knew none of this. Right now, I had just stepped out of the car, and the first person I saw was Liam. He is incredibly handsome. Perhaps because I knew about his tragic love story, he seemed to carry a unique, melancholic beauty. He stood there, casually waving hello. His dark eyes seemed filled with an impenetrable mist. For some reason, I suddenly felt a sense of familiarity. I shook my head. Am I crazy? I’ve only been in the industry for six months, and this is the first time I’ve met him. What familiarity? Audrey, you can’t just look at a handsome guy and think you knew him in a past life. With that thought, I adjusted my attitude and walked up to him with a bright smile. I said, “Hello, Liam. I’m Audrey Miller. You can just call me Audrey.” For some reason, he seemed to think of something and paused for a moment. I looked at him curiously. After about a second, he slightly lowered his eyes, his gaze focusing on me. He nodded, his voice clean and clear: “Hello.” 03 His voice also felt very familiar, but I figured I must have heard it on TV before. Totally normal. Audrey, keep it together. Just as I was thinking this, Mia’s voice called out from behind, “Liam, Audrey, wait for me!” I immediately rolled my eyes. What a buzzkill. Whatever, focus on the mission first. Today’s main objective: successfully cling to Liam’s coattails! So, during the live reality show, I worked incredibly hard. When Liam needed water, I was the first to pour it— “Water for you, Liam. If you need anything, just call for Audrey. I’m at your beck and call, guaranteed~” When it was time for tasks, I took the lead, rushing forward to grab all the chores— “I got this, Liam. My specialty is being physically fit. I’ve hardly ever been sick since I was a kid!” When we failed a mini-game and had to face a penalty, I stepped right up— “Don’t panic, I’m Liam’s designated stunt double. I’ll take the penalty. Our goal is: protect Liam from any harm!” … Sucking up, that’s what I do! Kissing ass, that’s my game! Kiss enough ass, and eventually, you’ll have it all! Slurp~ Let’s go, let’s go! Mia was also trying hard, but she cared too much about her image to compete with me. So, she resorted to passive-aggressive remarks from the sidelines: “Audrey, aren’t you afraid Liam’s fans will hate you for clinging to him like this?” I replied nonchalantly, “It’s fine, right? I’m not trying to push a romantic angle.” She’s the one trying to force a romantic narrative with Liam. When her first plan failed, she tried another: “But the way you’re acting, it looks like you’re just kissing his ass…” I chuckled: “No need to doubt it, I am kissing his ass. I want to be Liam’s right-hand man!” Saying this, I even looked directly at the camera: “Main quest: cling to Liam’s coattails, strive to be his most loyal sidekick, and pledge unwavering loyalty to Liam!” I finished with a fist pump. Then, ignoring Mia’s almost broken expression, I walked away with swagger. Netizens clipped this segment together with all my other kiss-ass moments from the day, and paired it with Mia’s almost broken expression. It instantly skyrocketed to the top of the trending list. [Hahaha, Mia’s expression, I’m dying of laughter.] [I don’t care, I want to be Liam’s most loyal sidekick too!] [Pledge unwavering loyalty to Liam!] … [Don’t laugh too soon. Audrey isn’t innocent. I actually think Mia is right, Audrey is clinging to Liam. There have been other female celebrities who played the ‘bro/sidekick’ card before, and they all ended up trying to leech off Liam’s fame later. Disgusting.] [+1 to the comment above.] [+My bank account number.] … My phone had been confiscated, so I didn’t know about the heated debates online. I only knew that this busy day was finally coming to an end. While shoveling food into my mouth, I sneaked glances at Liam. When his water glass was empty, I refilled it. Whatever he needed, I provided. Seeing him smile from time to time, I figured he must be pretty satisfied. Of course he is. Even I’m impressed by my level of service. Audrey, you’re the best! But when I suddenly looked up, I caught Mia’s sinister glare. It startled me so much I almost choked. Too scary. Just eat, ignore her. After dinner came the final activity before bed: drawing lots for a mini-game. I glanced at the crumpled pieces of paper. Singing, hide-and-seek, things like that were all there. I didn’t see all of them before a staff member put them into a box. “Liam, why don’t you draw?” the staff member said. “Whatever you pick, everyone will definitely be happy with.” Liam nodded modestly, reached in, and pulled out a piece of paper. The moment he opened it, he froze, his lips pressed tightly together. Little Qin, standing next to him, leaned over while talking: “What did you get? Liam, your expression is haha…” But before he could finish his “haha,” his expression changed drastically. He went completely silent. His eyes wide as saucers. Everyone was very curious, and so was I, but I didn’t dare look. Finally, Little Qin said, “Why don’t you draw another one?” But Liam said, “No need, this one is fine.” Then he flattened the piece of paper on the table. I took a look— “Elysium Map Race.” 04 The corners of my mouth twitched slightly. Dead memories suddenly attacked me. Oh no, this feels like heartburn. I was reminded of what my best friend did over a year ago. From that day until now, I haven’t played Elysium once. For some reason, besides my awkwardness, no one else spoke either. The atmosphere was incredibly weird. And everyone kept stealing glances at Liam. I was the least famous person there, so I didn’t dare make a sound. Right then, Mia suddenly spoke up: “Audrey, you’ve never played Elysium, right? Whoever teams up with you this time is going to suffer, haha.” She paused slightly, then looked at Liam and said, “Liam, I’m super good at Elysium. Let’s team up.” I instantly went on high alert. This two-faced Mia was waiting for this! She wants to show off her gaming skills to win Liam over and steal my opportunities again? Impossible! Absolutely impossible! I’ve been kissing up to Liam all day; I refuse to let someone else steal the fruit of my labor! Thinking this, I patted my chest and looked at Liam: “No, I’m super good. Liam, let’s team up!” I am a recognized pro at Elysium. Back in the day, I carried my gaming buddy across the map, flying through the skies and exploring every corner. Before Liam could say anything, Mia’s mocking voice came again— “Audrey, if you don’t know how to play, just admit it. You can’t lie just to team up with Liam. It wouldn’t be good if you dragged him down.” What I didn’t know was that online, someone had dug up an interview video of me from a month ago. In that video, the host asked me— “Audrey, have you played the popular game Elysium recently?” And the me on screen shook my head frantically: “No, absolutely not. I don’t know how to play that game at all.” The live chat had already exploded— [A month ago she said she’s never played, doesn’t know how, absolutely not. Now she dares to say she’s a pro? Is this a joke!] [Yeah, she probably hasn’t even leveled up much in a month. So funny. I used to think she was genuine, but now it seems she’s no different from the other women.] [Disgusting. Audrey, stay away from our Liam! Audrey get out of the entertainment industry!] … While the internet was blowing up, back at the reality show set. I’m someone who can’t stand a challenge, especially when Mia is being specifically malicious. Combining old grudges with new resentment, I had to win. “The game hasn’t even started, why are you already talking trash?” I said, instantly changing my expression and looking at Liam with a flattering smile. “Liam, pick me, pick me! Your loyal sidekick is your most reliable teammate! If you like this game, we can play it together all the time! I’m super good!” I even impressed myself with how fast I could change my tune. After all, with my skills, I could definitely carry Liam and make the game a breeze for him. Liam looked at my eager expression and, for some reason, seemed a bit stunned. He looked at me, but his dark eyes lacked focus. It was as if he was looking at something through me. Is there a problem? I used to act like this in the game when begging high-level players to carry me. Back then, I had another “sidekick” with me, and the high-level players were always happy to carry us. “Audrey, look, Liam hasn’t even said anything. He…” “Okay.” Before Mia could finish her mocking sentence, Liam agreed. Everyone around us was stunned. The internet exploded even more, because for the past year or so, Liam hadn’t teamed up with any female players. On the islands of Elysium, people often saw Liam taking a cute, pink virtual pet to travel across mountains, rivers, and oceans. Rumor had it that the virtual pet was the “daughter” previously raised by “AudreyA.” More and more people were hating on me online, but I didn’t know. I was happily taking a phone from a staff member. Create a new account or log into my old one? Definitely the old one. A new account wouldn’t have any levels; how could I beat anyone? If I want to carry the boss, I need to bring my absolute peak skills! Clenching fists.jpg Besides, that happened a year and a half ago. Surely no one remembers it anymore… Surely… Thinking this, I expertly entered my ID and password. After logging in, the familiar colorful interface washed over me. Long time no see.

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I am a ghost from ten years ago, anchored to this timeline by a single, desperate mission: save Alexander West. If I can win him back—if I can make him love me again—his younger self will be spared the tragedy that broke him. The accident that left the man before me paralyzed in a wheelchair will be erased from history. But if I fail, he vanishes. In every timeline, in every memory, Alexander West will simply cease to exist. This is my final shot. It’s why I’ve endured his venom, his public humiliations, and the way he sneers at me as if I’m something he found on the bottom of his shoe. To everyone else, I’m the toxic ex who doesn’t know when to quit. A social climber trying to claw her way back into the life of the man she once threw away. They don’t understand that I’m fighting for his life. Last night, the cruelty hit a new peak. During a high-stakes “Truth or Dare” at a charity gala, we were locked in a “Pulse Room”—a sensory-deprivation chamber where the door only unlocks if you whisper the name of the person you love and your heart rate hits a specific, undeniable frequency. Alexander didn’t hesitate. Without a glance in my direction, he breathed a single name: “Lydia.” Lydia. The bright, bubbly pharmaceutical rep who treats him like a wounded bird. His “Little Sunshine.” The door buzzed open. I stared at him, my chest aching as if he’d physically struck me. He just leaned back in his wheelchair, a mocking glint in his dark eyes. “It’s just a game, Iris,” he’d said. “Don’t tell me you actually took it to heart.” Then, his voice dropped, turning into a low, dangerous velvet. He told me that if I stayed in that dark room alone all night as a ‘penalty,’ he’d grant me one minute of being his girlfriend again. A sixty-second consolation prize. I just looked at him, feeling the last fraying thread of my hope snap. “Don’t bother, Alexander,” I whispered. “It doesn’t matter anymore.” 1 “Think carefully, Iris. This might be the only chance you have left to—” Alexander cut himself off, his jaw tightening as he processed my words. For a fleeting second, a crack appeared in his icy mask. “What did you just say? You’re turning it down?” He narrowed his eyes, searching my face for the lie. “What’s the angle this time? Playing hard to get? Trying to make me chase you?” I met his gaze, forcing down the acidic burn in my throat. I kept my voice flat, devoid of the desperation that usually defined us. “I’ll take the penalty. I’ll stay the night.” I took a breath, the air in the room feeling thin. “But the rest of it? The ‘getting back together’ thing? There’s no point.” The smirk he’d been wearing froze. His knuckles turned white as he gripped the armrests of his wheelchair, his frame tense with a sudden, inexplicable fury. “Fine,” he spat, his voice trembling with a dark, suppressed emotion. “What’s the catch? What’s the new price?” “Do you want me to take you back to that trailer park in Haven Cove? Or do you have some new, pathetic excuse for why you vanished ten years ago?” He leaned forward, his eyes burning. “I don’t get it, Iris. You’re the one who walked out. You’re the one who left me bleeding out in the rain. Why do you always act like the goddamn martyr?” I bit my lip so hard I tasted copper, staring at the ceiling to force back the tears. This was my third life. My third attempt to fix this. In the first life, I tried to prove my devotion by literally throwing myself into the line of fire for him. When he stood over my hospital bed, he didn’t weep. He just said, “You always were dramatic.” In the second life, I brought him to my old professors, showed him the records, tried to explain that I never went to Europe for a better life—that I left to protect him. He didn’t believe me. Instead, he used his influence to ruin the people who tried to speak for me. In this life, I told him the truth from day one. I told him that our reconciliation was the only thing that could heal his legs, the only thing that could save his soul. He just laughed. He pointed to the miracle drugs Lydia was developing for him. “I’m not the naive kid from the docks anymore, Iris. You think your ‘love’ is going to make me walk? Listen to yourself. It’s pathetic.” Looking at the sheer loathing in his eyes now, I felt a bone-deep exhaustion settle over me. But then I looked at his legs, and the memory of him at eighteen flashed through my mind—how he’d worked three jobs to pay for my tuition, how he’d taken a lead pipe to the knees from a debt collector just so I wouldn’t have to worry. My eyes drifted to the EKG monitor on the wall of the Pulse Room. Even though he claimed to find Lydia annoying, his heart rate had spiked the moment her name left his lips. I gave a small, bitter laugh. “I don’t want anything from you anymore, Alexander,” I said. “For the last time: I never abandoned you. I never wanted the money. I was trying to save you. Truly.” I wiped a stray tear away before it could fall. Alexander looked stunned, a flicker of doubt crossing his face. The tension was shattered when the door was flung open. A figure blurred through the light, throwing herself into Alexander’s lap. “Are you okay?” Lydia asked, her voice trembling with manufactured concern. She looked up at him with wide, watery eyes. “You know you hate the dark. Why did you let her drag you into this stupid game?” “Let’s go home,” she whispered, then threw a sharp, territorial glare in my direction. She looked exactly the way I used to—standing as a shield between Alexander and the world. When the wheelchair didn’t move immediately, Lydia followed Alexander’s gaze to the EKG monitor. Seeing the recorded spike in his heart rate from earlier, she beamed. “She’ll be fine, Alexander,” Lydia said, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness. “She’s not that scared little girl who used to hide in your arms anymore. She’s tougher than she looks.” The cold aura around Alexander seemed to soften slightly at her touch. He looked at me one last time, as if trying to convince himself of something. “One night, Iris,” he muttered. “Survive the night, and maybe I’ll give you one more chance to explain yourself tomorrow.” I watched Lydia wheel him away, the heavy steel door groaning shut behind them. The darkness rushed in, thick and suffocating. The old, familiar terror began to claw at my throat. He’d forgotten. Or maybe he just didn’t care anymore. He was the one who pulled me out of the darkness all those years ago when my parents locked me away. He knew the dark was my cage. I curled into a ball on the cold floor, burying my face in my knees. The tears came then, hot and heavy. My mind drifted back to the eighteen-year-old Alexander—the boy who was still waiting for me to come home in the past. Then, the cold, mechanical chime of the Directive echoed in my mind. [Warning: Host’s will to continue is critically low. Abandonment detected. Calculating failure parameters.] 2 [Confirmation required: Does the Host wish to forfeit the mission?] I bit my lip until the metallic tang of blood filled my mouth. I was ready to nod. I was ready to let the void take me. Suddenly, the last dim light in the room died with a sharp pop. Total darkness. The air felt like wet wool. I could hear the echoes of my father’s drunken shouting from my childhood, the sound of the cellar door locking. I tried to cover my ears, my breath coming in ragged, shallow gasps. I opened my mouth to scream the word Yes to the Directive, to end it all— BANG. The door was kicked off its hinges. A silhouette stood framed in the blinding light of the hallway. For a second, the outline of the man matched the lean, hungry shape of the boy I loved. A smile broke through my terror. He came back. He still cares. The Directive’s question faded into the back of my mind. I must have fainted, because when I opened my eyes, I was dreaming. In the dream, I was back in Haven Cove. We were kids. Alexander was the town’s stray, the orphan everyone whispered about. The first time I ever spoke to him was after a group of local bullies had cracked his forehead open with a rock. I’d saved my lunch money for weeks. I used it to take him to the small clinic in town. I remembered him sitting on the exam table, his ribs showing through his skin, looking away from me. “I’ll pay you back,” he’d said, his voice a gravelly rasp. I’d just shook my head. “Don’t worry about it. Just… next time you go to the city, can you take me with you?” I wanted to learn. I wanted to see the world. My parents wouldn’t pay for school, so I had to be smart. I had to find a way out. We became inseparable. By the time I was eighteen, I held an acceptance letter to a university in the city, but my parents tore it into confetti. They wanted to marry me off to a man three times my age to settle a gambling debt. I tried to run, but Haven Cove was a trap. They caught me. They locked me in the shed behind the house for three months. No light. Barely any food. Alexander was the one who found me. He nearly died pulling me out of there, taking a beating that should have killed him. After we escaped, he worked two shifts at the docks to put me through school. When I tried to tell him no, he just pinched my cheek and laughed. “Just graduate, Iris. Then we’ll get married. You’re the only reason I want a better life.” That Alexander loved me with every fiber of his being. So when the Directive appeared to me ten years ago, offering a deal—go to the future, save the man he becomes, and fix the tragedy of his accident—I didn’t hesitate. Even the eighteen-year-old Alexander had encouraged me. “The future me won’t need a mission to love you,” he’d joked. But as I left, he’d gripped my hand, his eyes serious. “Iris, if the man I become ever breaks your heart… just walk away. I’m promising you right now, I’d rather die than be the reason you cry.” The dream started to dissolve. I reached out for his hand, screaming his name as I lurched awake. But I wasn’t in Alexander’s arms. I was in a hospital bed, and Lydia was standing over me with a smirk that made my skin crawl. “You really thought it was him, didn’t you?” she asked, her voice dripping with mockery. She pulled out her phone and played a video. It was security footage of the Pulse Room. It wasn’t Alexander who had kicked the door in; it was a panicked security guard. “The staff didn’t want a lawsuit,” Lydia laughed. “Did you really think a little ‘damsel in distress’ act would work on him? Alexander has spent ten years hating you. You think a dark room changes that?” She leaned in closer, her voice a sharp whisper. “I’m the leading lady of this story now, Iris. Why did you have to come back? You’re a ghost. Stay dead.” Before I could respond, she let out a piercing scream and threw herself onto the floor. The tray of hot soup she’d brought—supposedly as a peace offering—shattered, the scalding liquid splashing over her arms. Right on cue, Alexander rolled into the room. Lydia looked up at him, tears streaming down her face. “Iris, I only came here to check on you! Why would you do this?” She sobbed, clutching Alexander’s hand. “It’s my fault, really. I just told her that the new treatment was working, that you were going to walk again… and she snapped. She kept saying that only she could save you.” I watched her performance with a cold, hollow feeling in my chest. I looked past her, straight into Alexander’s eyes. “You were standing right outside the door,” I said quietly. “You saw what happened. Didn’t you?” 3 Lydia’s eyes widened in fake terror. “Alexander, no, she’s lying…” I waited. I waited for the man who used to know my soul to look at the physics of the spill, to see the calculation in Lydia’s eyes. I waited for him to protect me. Instead, his voice was like dry ice. “I could call the police, Iris. I could have you charged with assault.” He looked at me as if I were a stranger—a nuisance to be cleared away. Lydia pressed closer to his side, her face glowing with triumph. “Can’t take it?” Alexander sneered, his lip curling. “This is a fraction of the pain I’ve lived with for a decade. I was building a life for us in Everglade City. I was finally making it. And then you vanished without a word.” “Now I’m the man everyone wants to know. I’m the ‘New Money’ king of the coast. And suddenly, you’re back, crawling around, trying to get a piece of it.” His eyes were bloodshot, his voice trembling with a decade of fermented rage. “What makes you think I’d wait for you? What makes you think your ‘devotion’ means anything to me now?” The silence in the room was heavy, suffocating. The dam finally broke. “I didn’t leave because I wanted to!” I screamed, the words tearing out of me. “Then why?” Alexander yelled back. “Give me one reason! Tell me why you let me think you were dead!” I opened my mouth, but the Directive’s invisible weight clamped down on my vocal cords. I couldn’t speak the truth of the system. I couldn’t explain the time-slip. I closed my eyes, my shoulders slumping. “I can’t tell you the ‘why.’ But Alexander, I never stopped trying to get back to you. Everything I’ve done was to make sure you’d walk again.” I saw the flicker of “Here we go again” in his eyes. He didn’t believe a word. He pulled out his phone to dial the police. Suddenly, the door swung open again. A young woman with a round, friendly face froze at the sight of the chaos. “Iris? Oh my god, Iris! It is you!” She rushed in, ignoring Alexander. “Where have you been? When you turned down the Fulbright scholarship and disappeared from campus, the Dean was devastated! We all thought something terrible happened. You left everything behind—your clothes, your books… it was like you just evaporated.” The room went silent. Alexander’s hand froze on his phone. He turned his chair toward the girl, his voice a low growl. “She didn’t go to Europe?” The girl frowned. “Europe? No. She never even picked up her plane tickets. She vanished the night before the flight.” Lydia tried to cut in, her voice frantic. “Alexander, this is obviously an actress. Iris is just trying to manipulate you—” Alexander ignored her. He grabbed my wrist, his grip bruising. “Is she telling the truth? You never left the country?” I pulled my arm back, my heart feeling like lead. I looked at Lydia, then back at Alexander. “I’ll look into this,” Alexander muttered, his voice shaken. He turned to Lydia, his tone turning sharp. “Get out, Lydia. You’ve overstepped.” “But Alexander—” “Go,” he barked. Lydia scrambled to grab her bag and fled, her face pale. I didn’t say a word. I sat on the edge of the bed, feeling a strange numbness. I looked down at my hands and gasped. My fingertips were becoming translucent. I was starting to fade. I looked up, wanting to call out to him, but Alexander was already rolling out the door, his mind clearly miles away. I let out a long, shaky sigh. “Whatever,” I whispered to the empty room. Three days later, Alexander appeared at my door. He looked exhausted. He rolled to my bedside and pulled a small, velvet box from his pocket. Inside was a ring—a simple gold band, worn and slightly tarnished. “I bought this ten years ago,” he said, his voice raw. “I carried it every day for a year. Iris… if I asked you now, would it be too late?” I looked at the ring, then at him. “What about Lydia?” He didn’t answer. He just took my hand and slid the ring onto my finger. 4 After that day, Lydia’s name was never mentioned. It was as if she’d been erased from our lives. But the “proposal” didn’t lead to a wedding. It didn’t lead to anything. We just fell back into a hollow version of our old rhythm. He would kiss my forehead, he would bring me flowers, he would act like the man I used to know. One afternoon, I couldn’t take it anymore. “Are we actually together, Alexander? Does this mean I succeeded?” He didn’t look at me. “Just focus on getting better, Iris. We’ll talk about the rest later.” That evening, he brought me a vanilla cone—my favorite treat from Haven Cove. I reached out to take it, but my hand passed right through the wafer. The cone hit the floor, splattering across the tiles. I stared at my hand in horror. It was almost completely see-through now. Alexander didn’t say a word. He just quietly leaned down, cleaning the mess with a paper towel. “It’s okay,” he whispered. He looked so sad, so devoted. If I hadn’t seen the photos Lydia had DM’d me an hour earlier—photos of him and her at a bridal boutique, picking out her gown—I might have believed him. “I guess people’s tastes change over ten years,” Alexander said, his voice laced with a strange, hidden meaning. The anger finally surged, hot and blinding. “Stop it!” I grabbed my phone and shoved the wedding photos in his face. “Enough with the mind games, Alexander! Why the ring? Why the fake affection? Why pretend we’re okay while you’re planning a wedding with her?” Alexander went still. Then, he began to laugh. A cold, dry sound that had no joy in it. He looked at me, his eyes twin pits of ice. “You finally caught on. I was wondering how long you’d let me play with you.” Then, to my absolute shock, he gripped the arms of his wheelchair and stood up. He rose slowly, towering over me, his legs steady and strong. “That ‘actress’ you hired? The one who said you never went to Europe? Nice touch, Iris. But it wasn’t enough.” “You said only you could save me. But look at me. I’m standing. I’m fine.” He sneered, looking down at me. “Are you disappointed? Is your little ‘mission’ ruined because I didn’t need you to be whole?” I couldn’t breathe. “I did it on purpose,” he whispered. “Lydia’s company developed the treatment that put me back on my feet. I’m marrying her because she actually gave me a future, while you just gave me a decade of ghosts.” He sat back down, checking his watch. His phone buzzed—a call from Lydia. “If you want to come to the wedding and make a scene, go for it,” he said, his voice devoid of emotion. “Maybe I’ll give you a severance check for your time.” He looked at his legs with pride. “I’m going to my engagement party now. To start my real life.” “Alexander, wait!” I cried as he reached the door. “If you marry her, you’ll die! The mission—if it fails, you disappear!” He didn’t even turn around. The door clicked shut. Then, the Directive’s voice boomed in my skull. [Mission Failure Confirmed. Commencing Host Extraction. Returning to Year Zero.] [Host will remain in this timeline until physical transparency reaches 100%.] Across town, in the middle of a grand ballroom, Alexander West stood up from his wheelchair to the roar of applause. He held Lydia in his arms, his eyes scanning the crowd, looking for a face he claimed to hate. But I wasn’t there. As the music swelled, a sudden, violent jolt racked his body. His legs buckled. He collapsed, the world spinning into a blur of screams and camera flashes. As he lay on the floor, he felt his heart stutter, his very life force being pulled out of him like water through a sieve. In the darkness of his closing eyes, a single line of crimson text burned: [WARNING: TARGET TERMINATION IN PROGRESS. MISSION FORFEITED BY IRIS.]

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