Category: English

I put a bullet in my boyfriend, the city’s most feared crime boss. And I got a medal for it. The next second, I saw him again. Eighteen years old, cornered in an alley by a pack of thugs, his face a bloody mess. I grabbed the nearest brick and charged. To save him? No. To claim him all over again. This time, I decided on a different way to be a hero— I would mold him into a model citizen, a straight-arrow. And if the little wolf cub misbehaved? I’d hold him when he cried, kiss him until he surrendered, and lock him away to teach him slowly. Still not enough? Then I’d rip his clothes to shreds, throw him onto the bed, and show him who was in charge… 1. When Aiden fell, his eyes were locked on mine. There was no hatred in them, no fury. Just a dead, hollow void and a flicker of understanding. It was as if he’d always known this day would come. That look burned me, so hot my hand holding the gun began to tremble. The medal of honor pinned to my chest felt like a shard of ice against my skin. 2. When I opened my eyes again, I wasn’t blinded by the flashbulbs of a press conference. I was assaulted by the greasy stench of garbage, the acrid sting of cheap cigarettes, and the sickening, wet thud of fists hitting flesh. “Fuck! This little bastard’s tougher than he looks!” “Shit, where’s the money? Can’t pay up? Then we’ll beat it out of you!” A filthy back alley. In the dim, failing light, a group of thugs circled a crumpled figure on the ground. He was painfully thin, his tangled mess of straw-blond hair matted with grime and blood. He was curled up, protecting his head, his body convulsing silently with each brutal impact. The air froze in my lungs. That face… It was Aiden. A younger Aiden? 3. My mind was a blank slate. But my body moved faster than my thoughts. The instincts from my years undercover were etched into my very bones. I snatched half a brick from the filthy ground and lunged. The brick connected with the back of the lead thug’s neck with a sickening thud. He went down without a sound, his body folding like a puppet with its strings cut. “Who the hell is this kid?” the others snarled, spinning around in shock and rage. I didn’t stop. Block, elbow strike, knee to the gut. My movements were a blur of instinct, fueled by a reckless, desperate ferocity. There was only one thought in my head: They hurt Aiden. They all deserve to die. Chaos. Fists and feet flying. A sharp, searing pain shot up my arm. I was hit, but the fire of it only fueled me. They were worse off. Stunned by my kamikaze attack and with one of their own down for the count, they scrambled, cursing as they dragged their unconscious friend away. “Dammit, what a waste of time! You got lucky, you little shit. Next time, you’re dead.” The alley fell silent, the only sound our ragged, desperate breaths. 4. I stood there, chest heaving, trying to catch my breath. The brick slipped from my grasp, clattering onto the pavement. Only then did the stinging pain in my arm and on my cheek register. But I couldn’t care less. My eyes were fixed on the blond kid on the ground. He was still curled into a ball, like a wounded animal on the verge of death. Blood from a gash on his temple mixed with dirt, streaking down his face. His tattered t-shirt was torn open, revealing a cage of ribs covered in fresh, angry bruises. He looked nothing like the fearsome crime lord whose name made the city tremble—Aiden. So, did I… travel back in time? A huge, peeling poster on the alley wall caught my eye. A date was printed in bold numbers: September 1, 2015. I was ten years in the past. I glanced down at myself. I was wearing a standard-issue blue and white uniform from Northwood High, complete with a pin for Class 12-B. I was back in my senior year. I was eighteen again. Which meant Aiden was only eighteen, too. Eighteen. Perfect. So young. So weak he couldn’t even win a back-alley brawl. So… manageable. I walked over and crouched down beside him, reaching out to touch him. He flinched. He tried to push himself up, the movement pulling at his wounds. A sharp hiss of pain escaped his lips. His eyes, like those of a cornered wolf cub, shot up to meet mine—fierce, wary, and full of raw distrust. “Who are you?” he rasped, his voice thick with hostility. “You looking to die, sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong?” Such a ferocious little wolf. Too bad I wasn’t afraid of him. He tried to scramble away, but I wrapped my arms around him, holding him tight. “What the f—” He never finished the word. Because my mouth was on his. 5. The little wolf in my arms instantly froze, turning to stone. He thrashed violently, but the more he fought, the harder I kissed him. I had to admit, even at eighteen, as ferocious as he was, Aiden’s lips were incredibly soft. Kissable. I kissed him until he was breathless, until the coppery taste of his blood filled my mouth. Only then did I pull away. He stared at me, dumbfounded. “You… you… you…” “Me what?” I wiped the blood from my lips with the back of my hand. “Want another one?” I leaned in as if to kiss him again. He scrambled backward, his eyes wide with panic. “Are you insane? Who the hell are you?” “I’m your future husband.” 6. “Hus… Husband? You’re a psycho.” Aiden spat the words, glaring at me with utter disgust. He shoved me aside and tried to bolt. But he’d been beaten too badly, and at eighteen, he was so poor he was lucky to eat once every three days. He was no match for me. I caught him easily, wrapping my arms around him from behind. He was warm. Alive. He was really, truly alive. A gut-wrenching sob tore from my throat. I started bawling. “Come with me, or I swear I’ll cry myself to death right here in your arms.” “Let go—” He struggled, jabbing an elbow back into my ribs. Pain shot through me. But I only held on tighter, burying my face in the sweat-and-blood-soaked fabric of his shirt, my wails growing louder. My high-pitched shrieks attracted attention. One by one, curious onlookers started wandering into the alley. Aiden hated being stared at; I could feel his body tense. I tightened my grip on his shirt, my voice rising to a new level of theatrical despair. “You wore me out so bad last night the bed nearly broke, and then you had the nerve to blame me for your three-second performance! And now you’re running off to find some other girl? Oh, the injustice! The cruelty! Waaaah!” “I gave you my everything at eighteen, I followed you, and you promised you’d love me forever! It hasn’t even been a day and you’re already sick of me! I… I…” Tears streamed down my face like a broken faucet, soaking his thin, ragged t-shirt. The murmuring crowd went dead silent. You could have heard a pin drop. They looked like they’d just stumbled upon the scandal of the century, their eyes practically popping out of their heads. Aiden’s lips were trembling. He was so furious he was literally speechless. It was clear the eighteen-year-old Aiden had never encountered someone as utterly shameless as me. “You told me love knows no gender, no age! You said you’d love me until the end of time! I skipped school for you, and this is how you repay me? By running off with someone else? You… you…” I punctuated my cries with little punches against his chest, playing the part of the heartbroken lover to perfection. But the truth was, I really did want to cry. In my last life, I was torn between the man I loved and the country I served. I had no choice. I had to… The truth is, in that life, Aiden knew I was an undercover agent. He knew, and he had started trying to change for me. He was shutting down his criminal enterprises one by one, moving into legitimate businesses. He even started collaborating with the police, acting as an informant. But once you’ve walked that dark path, how can you ever truly wash yourself clean? He wanted out, but his so-called “brothers” would have rather dragged him back into the mud with them. That last shot… he begged me to take it. I… “Wait, aren’t those two boys?” someone in the crowd whispered loudly. “My eyes aren’t deceiving me, are they?” “They are! Two boys… together? This is… this is shameless! What is the world coming to?” “Tsk, tsk. So young and already all over each other in public.” “Exactly! And look, the one crying is wearing a Northwood High uniform. Does anyone have the number for the school? Someone should call a teacher.” The chatter grew louder, the judgment harsher. I could feel Aiden’s entire body go rigid with humiliation. Just as I was about to launch into another tirade, Aiden’s voice, tight and seething, cut through the air. “Shut up. I’ll go with you. Just stop talking.” 7. Suddenly, blinding headlights flooded the alley entrance. A group of men in sharp black suits marched in, their footsteps echoing off the brick walls. They quickly and efficiently dispersed the crowd of gawkers. “Master Ross? Is that really you? Oh my god, what happened? Are you hurt? Your clothes are torn! Which son of a bitch dared to lay a hand on you? I’ll… I’ll…” It was Arthur, my family’s loyal and long-suffering driver. He must have gotten worried after I was gone for so long. At eighteen, I was still Ross Croft, the pampered young master of the Croft family. My clothes were always immaculate, every button fastened, every hair perfectly in place. I was the picture of clean-cut, privileged youth. But now, here I was, hair a mess, uniform dirty and torn, face streaked with tears and suspicious bloodstains… clinging for dear life to a blond-haired thug who screamed “trouble.” The color drained from Arthur’s face. He looked like he was about to have a heart attack. “What are you all standing there for?” he yelled at the suited men. “Get Master Ross away from him! My poor boy, did this hoodlum hurt you?” The bodyguards, assuming Aiden was the aggressor, surged forward to grab him. I wiped my tears away with the back of my hand and stepped in front of Aiden. “Arthur. I’m fine. This… this is Aiden. He’s my friend.” 8. Ten minutes later, I was sitting in the plush leather backseat of a Rolls-Royce, filthy from head to toe. Next to me, pressed against the opposite door like a cornered animal, was Aiden. He radiated a “stay the hell away from me” aura, looking as out of place as a dirty dishrag on a silk pillow. His eyes darted around the car’s luxurious interior before landing on me, his expression a mixture of suspicion and profound contempt. He was probably thinking, What asylum did this psycho rich kid escape from? Arthur, in the front seat, kept shooting nervous glances at Aiden in the rearview mirror, as if expecting him to pull a knife at any moment. When we arrived at the villa, Arthur pulled me aside. “Master Ross, you have too soft a heart. You can’t just bring a street punk like that home with you. Your parents will be furious if they find out. Why don’t we let him stay in my quarters? Please, don’t bring him into the main house. I’ve heard about these types… they’re violent, unpredictable. You’re so fragile, what if he—” “Arthur,” I cut in calmly. “I like him. I’m pursuing him. He’s my future husband. He won’t hurt me, I promise.” Arthur stared at me for a solid thirty seconds, then grabbed my hand, his eyes bulging. “Master Ross, have you lost your mind? That… that hoodlum is a boy! You’re a boy! Or have your eyes gone bad? Did you not notice he’s a—” “I know he’s a boy, Arthur. And you can relax. The whole world could turn against me, but he never would.” I was anxious to get Aiden inside. He was probably hurt worse than he was letting on. I brushed past Arthur and hurried into the house. I pushed Aiden into a guest room on the ground floor, one with its own bathroom. “You’re filthy. Go clean up. There are clothes for you inside.” I pointed to a fresh set of pajamas and loungewear I’d laid out. He didn’t move. He leaned against the doorframe, his wet blond hair dripping a mixture of water and blood down his neck. He smirked, a bitter, mocking twist of his lips. “Heh… If you rich kids have a screw loose, you should see a doctor. Don’t play this ‘saving the troubled youth’ game with me. I don’t need your charity.” I couldn’t help it. I laughed. “Troubled youth? What, did you get yourself into some real trouble? Did you—” “Get out!” He shoved me out of the room. The door slammed shut with a deafening bang. Little wolf cub has quite the temper. Saving the troubled youth? Please. I don’t have time for that. I’m just saving my future husband from taking a bullet. And saving him is just the first step. If he doesn’t cooperate, I’ll just lock him up and teach him. The process doesn’t matter, as long as I get the result I want. 9. This villa was a gift from my mother. To be more precise, it was something she bought for me just before she died. She passed away in an accident when I was fifteen. Not two months later, my father remarried. My new stepmother came with a slow-witted son of her own. I couldn’t stand living with them, so I moved here. Arthur had been my mother’s driver, brought over from my grandfather’s estate. He came with me when I moved. My stepmother was furious. She’d whine that her son, who was my age, didn’t have a thousand dollars to his name while I had an entire villa. She demanded my father transfer the deed to her son. Luckily, my father wasn’t completely senile yet and refused. But from that day on, my stepmother hated me. She was always trying to cause trouble, from trying to poison my food to leaving snakes in my room. It drove Arthur to tears more than once. I didn’t care. I just threw the snakes back into her room and slipped the poison into her son’s bowl. As my father got older, though, his mind started to slip. He began to believe my stepmother’s lies—that I was mentally unstable and needed to be sent to a psychiatric hospital. Fed up, I joined the military. I came back a few years later with a police uniform on my back. Arthur was so proud he told everyone he met that I was a man of the state now, a public servant. Someone untouchable. After that, my stepmother didn’t dare say a word to me. I thought that was how my life would be. But then I went undercover, and somehow, I ended up in Aiden’s bed. It wasn’t my fault. Some intel you can only get up close and personal. I got the intel. And Aiden got a bullet from my gun. 10. “Arthur! Get Dr. Evans over here with his medical kit, now!” I called out. “Master Ross, are you hurt? Oh, my goodness, what do we do? I’ll call him right away!” Arthur panicked, slapping his thigh with one hand while fumbling for his phone with the other. I quickly posted a job listing online: top-tier one-on-one private tutors wanted, high salary. After that, I opened the app for the city’s most exclusive restaurant. Aiden had a heavy palate—he loved spicy food, but his stomach was sensitive. I ordered: • Nourishing Stomach-Soothing Soup x2 • Spicy Crab (his favorite) x2 • Sichuan Boiled Beef (extra spicy, extra numbing) x2 • Sautéed Seasonal Greens x1 • Braised Pork Belly x1 • Crab Roe Soup Dumplings x2 baskets. • Note: RUSH DELIVERY! Dr. Evans arrived quickly. But Aiden wasn’t cooperating. He’d locked himself in the guest room. I retrieved a thin piece of wire from my secret stash. A few deft twists, and the lock clicked open. Arthur and Dr. Evans exchanged a wide-eyed look. They clearly had no idea their well-behaved young master was skilled in the art of lock-picking. Inside, Aiden had managed to quickly wash himself. He’d thrown on the gray cotton pants I’d left for him but was shirtless, his lean torso exposed. He was frowning at his reflection in the mirror, examining the bruises on his back and shoulders. When the door swung open, he whipped around. “Get out,” he growled. “Dr. Evans, examine him. Treat his wounds,” I commanded, ignoring his fury. “I don’t need it!” Aiden grabbed his dirty, damp t-shirt, but the movement pulled at his injuries, making him wince. “Bodyguards, hold him down,” I said, my voice flat. Two of my men stepped forward. Aiden reacted instantly, swinging a fist. But he was injured and exhausted, and my men were professionals. In seconds, they had his arms pinned behind his back, forcing him to sit on the edge of the bed. “Which mental hospital did you escape from? Are you sick in the head? Do I even know you? Why are you doing all this—” He couldn’t finish his sentence. Because I was kissing him again. I bit his lip, kissing him so thoroughly his eyes went wide with shock. Dr. Evans leaned over to Arthur and whispered, “Is this some new game Master Ross is playing?” Arthur sighed. “I have no idea. I’m sure that blond hoodlum must have corrupted him. Our Master Ross is such a good boy.” Dr. Evans nodded gravely. “Indeed.” “You ungrateful little— my master saves your life, and you—” Arthur started. I broke the kiss. “That’s enough, Arthur. You can go. Dr. Evans, you can stay.” Aiden looked like he was about to start cursing again. I smiled. “Keep struggling, and I’ll kiss you again. And this time, I’ll have my men take pictures. We can send them to all your little friends.” Aiden fell silent. He stopped fighting. But as he stilled, a deep blush crept up his neck, turning his ears a shade redder than a tomato. It was kind of cute.

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Three years we’d been together when Isabella’s kidneys gave out. Acute renal failure, they called it, a cruel consequence of a life lived too fast. I gave her one of mine without a second thought. She wept, she held me, she promised me forever. She would marry me, she said, and take care of me for the rest of our lives. But on our wedding day, on the Fourth of July, I called the whole thing off in front of everyone. Why? Because I’d lived this life before. In that other life, her ex-boyfriend, Roger, died in a car crash on his way to our wedding. And somehow, in the twisted logic of her grief, it was my fault. She dedicated herself to my destruction, a slow, meticulous revenge that left me a skeletal wreck. A year later, on the anniversary of Roger’s death, she led me to the boiler room of an old factory. She staged an “accident.” I remember the searing heat, the hiss of steam, the world turning white-hot before it went black. I was scalded alive. Now, I’m back. And this time, I’m not playing her game. This time, I’ll let them have their undying, tragic love story. 1 “Leo and I have decided to get married on the last day of the Fourth of July weekend!” Isabella’s announcement sent a ripple of cheers through the crowded living room. Our friends erupted in applause, shouting congratulations, wishing us a lifetime of happiness. Only Roger, Isabella’s first love, remained silent. He lifted his glass of whiskey, downed it in one smooth motion, and fixed me with a smirk laced with venom. “Well, congratulations, Leo. You bought your way into her life with a kidney, and it finally paid off.” I was in the kitchen, turning steaks on the grill pan, the scent of sizzling meat and warm spices filling the air. It should have felt cozy, a perfect summer evening. But all I could think about was the searing end to my last life. Two years ago, Isabella had been knocking on death’s door. Her family members weren’t a match. Roger, her beloved ex, had booked a one-way ticket out of the country the night he got the news. I was the only one who matched. I loved her. The thought of her dying so young was unbearable. So I gave her a piece of myself. She was so moved she cried for an hour straight, promising right then and there, before the surgery, that she would be my wife. She would cherish me forever. But when Roger died, that love curdled into a corrosive hatred that ended with me screaming in a boiler room. A sharp, stabbing pain twisted in my gut. The sound of the sizzling steaks was a violent echo of my past, and I couldn’t stop it. A wave of nausea hit me hard, and I doubled over the counter, gagging. Roger froze. Isabella, however, rushed over, her face a mask of disgust. “What the hell is wrong with you? Can’t you even cook without making a scene? If my cooking wasn’t so terrible, you wouldn’t even be touching the food for Roger!” She scowled. “You’re useless. Just hurry up so you don’t ruin everyone’s appetite.” Roger glanced at me with disdain before turning a charming smile on Isabella. “Bella, darling, I can cook. Let me take over.” A blush crept up Isabella’s cheeks. “Absolutely not,” she cooed, her voice soft. “Your hands are for the piano, Roger. They don’t belong in a kitchen. You go relax. There’s only one more dish. We’ll let him finish it. Come on.” She gently pushed him back toward the living room, but not before throwing a final, cutting remark over her shoulder at me. “I know you gave me a kidney, Leo, but can you stop using it as an excuse to be so fragile all the time? It’s not like it affects your ability to flip a damn steak, is it?” The chatter in the living room died down. I could feel the sympathetic stares of our friends, but I ignored them. A cold sweat broke out on my forehead as a flash of agony, a memory of fire, shot through me. I watched Isabella laughing with Roger, her head tilted just so, her eyes sparkling. My expression hardened, the pain solidifying into a cold, clear resolve. I am alive again. And I will not be the collateral damage of their love story this time. Slowly, I straightened up, finished the last of the vegetables, and brought the platter to the table. Most of the guests were Isabella’s friends. They all knew the epic story of her and Roger. One of them pointed at the cute cartoon Band-Aid on the back of Roger’s hand. “No way, man,” he laughed. “You’re a grown man. You scraped your hand on the corner of the table and you’re wearing a Band-Aid?” Roger shot a pointed look in my direction. “I have someone who worries about me. Even the smallest scratch, and she can’t help but care.” He then turned to me, his face a caricature of apology. “Sorry, Leo. No offense intended. But I guess with you missing a whole organ, Bella’s got bigger things to worry about.” I sat down, my voice flat and cold. “I’m missing a kidney because I love Isabella. Unlike you, who, when she needed a donor, bolted for the hills faster than anyone I’ve ever seen.” “How dare you twist it like that?” Roger snapped, his face contorting as if I’d stepped on his tail. He immediately turned to Isabella, his eyes red and welling with tears. “Bella, you know why I had to leave! My cousin was in an accident overseas. I had to go, otherwise I would have stayed by your side through everything. He never would have had the chance.” He choked back a sob. “If I had known you’d marry him just for a kidney, I would have stayed. God, I… I’ve regretted it every single day.” The mood in the room shifted. Everyone exchanged uncertain glances. Isabella’s eyes filled with tears of pure, unadulterated emotion. I watched them from the sidelines, my heart a placid lake. A bitter laugh almost escaped my lips. I’d given her a vital organ, and I’d never seen this much emotion from her. Roger says he regrets leaving, and she looks at him like he hung the moon. How could I have been so stupid in my last life? How could I have ever believed my devotion could win her heart? Suddenly, Roger’s act reached its crescendo. He crumpled to the floor, his body twitching faintly, a bit of white foam appearing at the corner of his mouth. Isabella shrieked, dropping to her knees and pulling him into her arms. “Roger! What’s happening? Don’t scare me!” she cried, her voice trembling with panic. Gasping for air, Roger managed to speak, his voice weak. “It’s nothing… an old problem. Side effect from the sleeping pills. These last two years… I was so worried about you, I couldn’t sleep. They were the only thing that got me through.” He looked past her, his gaze locking with mine. “Leo thinks I did this on purpose. But I didn’t. It’s always been you, Bella. It’s always been you in my heart.” He took another shaky breath. “I just hope… even after you’re married, we can still be close. If you’ve misunderstood my feelings… I’d rather just die right now.” It was a performance so clumsy it wouldn’t fool a toddler, but any sane adult could see right through it. Isabella, however, bought it hook, line, and sinker. She began to sob uncontrollably. “Oh, Roger, you idiot! Of course, I believe you! You don’t have to prove anything to me like this.” She clutched him tighter. “And it doesn’t matter if I’m married or not. Nothing will ever change how I feel about you. No one can ever change that!” A faint, tragic smile touched Roger’s lips. “As long as you know that, I can rest easy.” And with that, he passed out. Just before his eyes fluttered shut, I caught a flicker of a triumphant, sly smirk on his face. Isabella fumbled for her phone, frantically dialing 911. Only then did she finally look at me, her eyes burning with pure hatred. “I already agreed to marry you, Leo! Why did you have to say those things to him?” she hissed. “If anything happens to Roger because of you, I swear, I will make you regret it for the rest of your life!” 2 Her furious expression sent a phantom ache through my chest. Anyone in that room could see Roger was acting, but she was completely blind to it. Even one of her own friends couldn’t help but speak up. “Isabella, that’s a bit harsh. If it wasn’t for Leo, who knows where you’d be right now.” “Besides,” another friend added quietly, “he really did leave you when you needed him most.” Isabella’s rage only intensified. “All Leo did was donate a kidney! That doesn’t give him the right to act so high and mighty!” she shot back. “Roger had a family emergency! If he had been here, he would have done anything to save me! I’m already marrying you because of the kidney, Leo. What more do you want?” I let out a soft, humorless laugh and glanced at the man playing dead on the floor. “Really? He loves you that much, but his cousin was more important than your life?” My words only seemed to disgust her further. “That’s enough! I won’t let you say another bad word about him! That was his cousin, Leo! Was he just supposed to ignore that? Have you lost your heart completely?!” Seeing her, so utterly lost in her delusion, I saw a reflection of my past self. I remembered how I used to plead with her, trying to explain that I didn’t give her my kidney as a bargaining chip for marriage. I did it because I loved her, and I hoped she would marry me because she loved me back. She agreed to marry me, yet she resented me for it, torturing me until my last breath. I was just as blind as she is now. Thank God that’s over. A small pang of regret hit me. If only I could have been reborn just a little bit earlier. I never would have given her the kidney in the first place. The paramedics arrived quickly. Without a second thought, Isabella jumped into the ambulance alongside them, her hand clutching Roger’s the entire time. The party was over. I spent the next few days recovering at home. And I spent some money. I hired an investigator to dig up everything there was to know about Roger Vance, especially what he’d been up to abroad for the past two years. It turned out Roger’s private life was as dramatic as a Hollywood blockbuster. Yet here he was, professing his undying love for Isabella. Pathetic. I couldn’t wait to see the look on Isabella’s face when she found out. But first, I had to make sure they were shackled together for good. That would be the best revenge. A flicker of anticipation sparked within me. A few days later, Isabella stormed back into my apartment, her eyes blazing. “Leo, Roger almost died because of you! Even my father went to the hospital to see him. Aren’t you going to go and apologize?!” I pulled on a jacket, ready to go with her. On the way to the hospital, I looked at her exhausted face. She was clearly worn out from worry, her eyes puffy from lack of sleep. I’d never seen her this concerned, not even when I was recovering from surgery. Roger fakes a fainting spell, and she’s a wreck. I couldn’t help but ask, “I’ve been so good to you. I gave you a piece of myself. Does all of that still not measure up to a single hair on Roger’s head?” Isabella hesitated for a second, then her face hardened with irritation. “No one compares to Roger. I won’t lie to you, Leo. I love him. Only him. We were childhood sweethearts. You can’t possibly compete with that.” She sighed, a long, weary sound. “But don’t worry. You saved my life, and I’ll keep my promise. I’ll marry you. I don’t want to disappoint my parents, and I don’t want people talking. When we get to the hospital, you will apologize to Roger properly. I don’t want him to be upset.” I looked at her determined expression and finally understood. It all made sense now. Why she hated me so much after Roger died in my previous life. To her, Roger was everything. And I was just a doormat she could walk all over. When we arrived at the hospital, Roger was propped up in bed, tearfully recounting his years of longing for Isabella to an older man sitting by his bedside—her father. As we walked in, his eyes immediately found Isabella, and his expression softened into one of deep, soulful affection, as if he wanted to melt right into her. “Bella, you’re here.” She gazed back at him, her own eyes filled with a matching tenderness. I ignored their silent, passionate exchange and turned to her father. “Sir, I need to discuss something with you. Could we step outside for a moment?” Mr. Bell nodded, but as we headed for the door, Isabella blocked our path, her face flushed with anger. “Leo, are you trying to tattle on me to my dad?” she demanded. “If you have a complaint about me and Roger, you can say it right here! You don’t have to be so sneaky!” “I have other things to discuss,” I said calmly. She clearly didn’t believe me. “I was harsh with you, and now you’re upset, I get it. But this is between us. Don’t drag Roger into it. He’s innocent! Just say what you have to say. I’m listening!” I looked at her father, then gestured toward Isabella, who was glaring at me as if I were her sworn enemy. “Sir, you see it too. You see how deep Miss Bell’s feelings for Mr. Vance are. I don’t want to be the villain in their story. I’m willing to step aside and let them be happy.” I took a breath and delivered the final blow. “The wedding we planned for the Fourth of July… I think we should call it off. Effective immediately.”

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The day I returned to my birth parents, the fake heiress held a knife to her throat. “I’m a person, not your puppet! Stop controlling me! Do you need me dead to be happy?” she screamed. “Force me into marriage again, and I’ll make you front-page news!” She spun dramatically, pausing near me. “Now that your real daughter’s back, go suck the life out of her!” Furious, my father slammed a leather document on the table: The Beaumont Legacy Agreement. “To be our daughter,” he growled, “sign this lifetime contract.” My hands shook as I read it: I. Tai Chi with Grandpa at 6 AM. Reward: $10,000/session. II. Never speak to unsavory people near parents. Reward: $1M/day. III. Compliment your brother 10 times daily. Reward: $10,000/each. Isabelle laughed from the doorway. “You actually want this puppet life—” I snatched a pen and signed boldly. “Ten compliments? How about a hundred? I’ll even throw some in for Mom, Dad, and Grandpa!” 1 “Are you insane? That’s an indenture contract! Once you sign it, you’ll never be able to leave the Beaumont family!” Isabelle whirled back around, shocked by my sycophantic tone. “I’ve already lived twenty years in this suffocating prison,” she declared. “And you people won’t even spare your own flesh and blood, who just got here? Are you monsters?!” With that, she snatched the papers from my hand and ripped them to shreds with a vicious shrrriiip. My heart sank. Judging by her tortured expression, you’d think her life for the past eighteen years had been worse than mine—and I’d spent them scrounging through trash cans. My father slammed his fist on the table with a deafening crack. My mother looked at Isabelle, her face etched with pain. “You wear Chanel, you’re driven in a Rolls-Royce, you dine on foie gras and lobster, and your monthly allowance is five million dollars. I want you to look me in the eye and tell me that your life is ‘suffocating’.” Isabelle rolled her eyes, retorting without a shred of gratitude, “Did I ask for any of that? You forced it all on me. Do you really think I’ve been happy all these years?” Grandfather struck the marble floor with his cane. “Get out! If you insist on leaving with this gutter rat, then from this day on, the Beaumont family no longer has a daughter named Isabelle!” The “gutter rat” in question, a boy named Leo, clenched his fists, his eyes burning with humiliation. “What’s that supposed to mean? You think you’re better than me?” My brother let out a cold snort. That only enraged Leo further, but before he could launch into some cliché speech about the poor rising up against the rich, the security guards arrived and began escorting him out. Isabelle threw herself in front of him. “What are you doing? Leo can go wherever he wants! This is a violation of his personal freedom!” “Isabelle, let’s go,” Leo said, grabbing her arm. “One day, they’ll regret what they did today!” As he pulled her away, she made one last appeal to me. “Aren’t you coming? Are you really going to sell your freedom for a little bit of dirty money? To become a pawn in their marriage games?” All eyes in the room turned to me. Terrified my new sugar daddies might misunderstand, I immediately declared my allegiance. “Isabelle, you have no idea what you’re talking about. This family raised you with everything you could ever want, and you throw it back in their faces. If anyone’s suffocating here, it’s Mom, Dad, my brother, and Grandpa!” Isabelle trembled with rage, pointing a finger at my nose. “I try to help you, and this is the thanks I get.” “Aurora Beaumont! You’ll regret not listening to me!” 2 I watched her leave with a blank expression, but inside, I was mourning the one million dollars she’d just torn to pieces. My mother dabbed the corner of her eye and slipped a lustrous jade bracelet from her own wrist. “My dear child,” she said softly. “We were just so frightened by Isabelle’s behavior. We never truly intended to force you to sign anything.” She placed the heavy, cool bracelet on my wrist. “This is a welcome home gift from your mother. Please, keep it.” My father waved his hand dismissively and handed me a black card. “Take it. Spend what you want. Just don’t end up like that ungrateful brat.” My brother produced a stack of property deeds and several sets of luxury car keys. Not to be outdone, Grandfather had the butler bring out a prepared portfolio of stock transfer agreements. I stared at the mountain of wealth in my hands, and my eyes began to well up. They were completely caught off guard by my reaction, and panic flickered across their faces. Mother immediately turned on Father. “This is all your fault! Did you have to shove a contract in her face? Look, you’ve scared our daughter to tears!” Father shot her a wounded look but wisely kept his mouth shut. My brother asked nervously, “Do you… do you feel suffocated too?” I quickly shook my head, wiping my eyes. “No, it’s not Dad’s fault. I just… I never imagined you would all be so kind to me…” The tears started falling again. All those years I was lost, I had grown used to fighting. Fighting for a bite of meat. Fighting for a new set of underwear. Fighting for the chance to learn. I had never dreamed that there were things in this world you didn’t have to fight for, things your family would simply place in your hands. And Isabelle… she had enjoyed the life that should have been mine for twenty years, and now she had the audacity to claim she had suffered in my place. Fine. Let’s just see how long her precious “freedom” lasts. 3 Perhaps because I grew up starved for affection, any small kindness shown to me made me want to repay it tenfold. I decided to use the money I had saved over the years to buy them all gifts. But in my excitement, I accidentally sent a link for an online group buy to the family group chat. Oh, god. They’re going to think I’m so tacky. I was about to retract the message, but in the next second, my bank account balance exploded with new zeroes. Grandfather: [My dear granddaughter wants to start a business? Here’s a hundred million to practice with.] The others immediately followed suit, wiring me staggering amounts of money. My jaw dropped. They were definitely my real family. Still, I transferred the money back, trying to explain my embarrassing mistake. That only made them send even more. Mother: [Such a good girl. Definitely our blood. That other one… we raised her for twenty years and never saw a dime back.] She then sent a video. I opened it to see my father, bundled up in his blankets, sobbing his eyes out. I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. These were my people. I settled in quickly. I no longer had to worry about where my next meal was coming from or fight with anyone over scraps. I was like a sponge, soaking up all the knowledge my family and the tutors they hired could provide. My only job was to learn. They paved the way for everything else. Mother personally coached me in etiquette and social graces. Father cultivated my taste in the finer things. In just one month, I transformed from an ugly duckling into a swan. Isabelle, who had somehow gotten my number, kept trying to convince me to leave. When she learned that the family was pouring all their resources into my education, she just scoffed. [So naive. You think they’re doing this for your own good? They’re just fattening you up for slaughter, getting a better price for you on the marriage market!] I ignored her, but the family found out about the messages. Terrified I would misunderstand, Mother called an emergency family meeting. Father tripped over himself to explain. Grandfather was ready to call off the engagement on the spot. My brother insisted that my opinion was the only one that mattered. But I knew this marriage was about more than just me; it was a long-term strategic alliance between two powerful families. More importantly, I trusted my family. They weren’t the monsters Isabelle made them out to be. “I’m willing,” I said, my voice clear and steady. “I trust Mom and Dad’s judgment.” My compliance only seemed to deepen their guilt. And as a result, my dowry grew even larger. 4 Before the wedding, my brother took me to a high-end jeweler to add to my dowry. An endless sea of glittering gems was laid out before me, all for the choosing. Even after a month of immersion in this new world, my eyes instinctively darted to the price tags. So. Many. Zeros. The old me couldn’t have afforded a single one of these even if I collected plastic bottles for three hundred years. Just then, Isabelle’s shrill voice cut through the quiet elegance of the boutique. “What do you mean I can’t just take it? I always used to!” The sales associate maintained her professional smile with visible effort. “Miss Beaumont, previously your purchases were billed directly to the Beaumont estate. However, Mr. Beaumont personally called last week to cancel the account.” “Your total comes to one hundred and fifty-six thousand dollars. Will that be cash or card?” Isabelle froze. To make matters worse, she was surrounded by the very same socialites she used to compete with. “Well, well, look how the mighty have fallen.” “I heard she gave up her position as the Beaumont heiress voluntarily. I bet she’s regretting it now.” Isabelle’s face flushed a deep, humiliated crimson. To save face, she turned to Leo, her voice a desperate whine. “Honey, I haven’t been able to dress up at all since I left with you. Won’t you buy this for me?” Leo glanced at the price tag, and his face paled. He forced a smile and patted her head. “Sweetheart, you don’t need to dress up. You’re the most beautiful woman in the world to me. These are just useless rocks. They’re not worth the price. Only an idiot would buy them!” Isabelle’s face fell, a look of confusion in her eyes. “$156,000 is a lot? I never used to look at prices when I shopped.” The more she thought about it, the more she wanted it. As if to prove to her old friends that she was still doing just fine, she planted herself in front of the counter and refused to move. Then, she spotted us. Her eyes lit up. “Brother! What are you doing here?” She latched onto his arm, reverting to her old habits. “Brother, they’re all laughing at me! I want this! Pay for it!” My brother coolly detached her hand from his arm. “Isabelle, you are no longer my sister. Aurora is my only sister.” She stared at him, stunned. She couldn’t seem to comprehend that the brother who had doted on her for twenty years could say something so cold. Leo pulled Isabelle to his side. “Ignore him. Who does he think he is with all his money? We don’t need him.” Isabelle pouted. “But I want it~” Unable to reason with her, Leo pulled out his phone, took a picture of the necklace, and ordered a cheap knock-off from an app. “There. Happy now?” “That’s not the same! Forget it, my brother adores me. He’ll buy it!” She turned back to my brother. “Brother, I’m being the bigger person and talking to you, and you’re still mad? If you keep this up, I’ll really disown you! Now, hurry up and pay for this, or I’ll never speak to you again!” My brother just laughed. “We’ve already severed ties. What you want has nothing to do with me.” Isabelle glared at him, her face a mask of disbelief. “You’re really going to be this cruel? Are you using this to try and force me to come home? Well, I won’t give in!” “Think whatever you want.” My brother walked past her and turned to me, his voice warm again. “Aurora, if you can’t decide, we’ll just have the staff pack up all of them.” I maintained a graceful smile, but inside I was screaming. AAAAAAAH! THIS IS INSANE! 5 My fiancé, the crown prince of the city’s elite circle, Damian Sterling, was a workaholic. His startup had just gone public, and he was so busy he didn’t even have time to meet his own wife-to-be. I didn’t mind one bit. Not only was he drop-dead gorgeous, but he was more than willing to flex his financial muscle. My walk-in closet was overflowing with priceless jewelry, designer clothes, and handbags. I secretly hoped he would work overtime every day. Somehow, news of our unconventional romance leaked and went viral. The internet was buzzing with envy over our “fairytale” love story. Naturally, Isabelle found out. She called me immediately, her voice dripping with pity. “Aurora, this is all my fault. My selfish decision to run away has condemned you to this fate. Don’t worry, I will save you!” Her nonsensical declaration left me so baffled that I immediately went online and ordered several spiritual cleansing kits. But she was relentless, haunting me right up until my wedding day. On the day of my wedding, Isabelle was also getting married. I have no idea where she got the money, but she rented a small hall right next to our grand ballroom. Across the corridor, I saw her in a wedding dress that was yellowing with age. I stood in my custom-made haute couture gown. She showed no signs of shame, only looking at me with pity, as if she was certain my life was a living hell. Just as Damian and I were about to exchange rings, she burst into the room, a strange man in tow. “Stop this wedding!” The dreamy music screeched to a halt. All heads turned to her. Isabelle pointed an accusatory finger at my parents. “This wedding is nothing but a business transaction! They are sacrificing their own daughter’s happiness for profit!” “They only brought Aurora back because I refused to be their pawn! All they care about is money, not family!” She turned to me, her voice ringing with passion. “Aurora, we women deserve to be free! To marry the person we love!” As she spoke, she managed to squeeze out a few tears for dramatic effect. Our guests were too high-class to gossip openly, but the damage was done. We were a laughingstock. Grandfather clutched his chest, sinking into his chair. My parents’ faces were ashen. Before they could speak, Isabelle pushed a red-haired punk in front of me. “You and your boyfriend deserve to be happy together. Don’t worry about me. Go, run away and find your true love!” Wait, since when was this guy my boyfriend? I looked at her self-sacrificing expression, as if this pock-faced redhead, who was shorter than me even with lifts in his shoes, was some kind of prize. “Let’s go, Aurora,” the redhead said, reaching for me with a hand covered in some unidentifiable grime. “I’ll take care of you from now on.” “Who are you? Do I know you?” I said, desperate to distance myself from him before my billionaire husband got the wrong idea. But Isabelle seemed deaf, lost in her own heroic fantasy. “Aurora, you don’t have to pretend to be strong anymore. This is all my fault. I am willing to take your place in this gilded cage!” She ripped the million-dollar pearls from my veil, sending them scattering across the floor like marbles. She snatched the microphone from the officiant. “Everyone here is a witness!” she declared. “Damian Sterling, all you want is the Beaumont family’s shipping port shares, right? It doesn’t matter who you marry!” She took a deep breath, as if steeling herself for a great sacrifice. “Fine, Damian Sterling, you win!” she shouted. “I agree to marry you!”

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My son had a febrile seizure from a high fever. I rushed home to find the apartment at 115°F. The nanny, claiming to be cold-sensitive, had refused to use the AC. My son was rushed to the ICU. I slapped her, paid her severance, and fired her. That night, my husband Michael came home accusing me: “Lara! Was it worth giving Nina a chill by running the AC? She’s now hospitalized because of you!” I shoved the video of our son’s resuscitation in his face. “It might not kill me, but it could’ve killed our son! If a grown woman can’t handle 38 minutes of AC, why is she a nanny?!” Michael softened instantly. “Okay, you’re right. My fault.” Everything seemed normal until our son’s fever spiked again. Michael pretended to take us to the hospital but flew us via private helicopter and dumped us in the Arctic. With his arm around Nina, he laughed down at me: “Cold air helps fever, right? Play doctor today! Enjoy the climate!” Calmly, I texted the only number that mattered: 【Come take out the trash.】 1 The message had barely been sent when one of Michael’s goons let out a triumphant shout. “Boss, she did it again! Just like you said, she’s texting her brother. Good thing we brought the signal jammer!” Michael glanced at my screen and sneered. “Lara, when are you going to grow out of this pathetic habit of running to your big brother every time there’s a problem? It’s disgusting, you know that?” He mocked the words on my screen. “‘Come take out the trash!’ Ooh, so tough. I’m so scared.” His cronies pointed at me, howling with laughter. “You’re gonna listen to the boss today! With this jammer on, you can’t even send a period!” Michael looked pleased. He draped a lavish fur coat over Nina’s shoulders and glared down at me, huddled with our son. “Lara, have you learned your lesson yet?” I was only in a thin silk nightgown. The -50 degree air was already making my body convulse with shivers. My son’s lips were turning a frightening shade of blue, his tiny body trembling violently in my arms. I clutched him tighter. “Michael, what lesson is there to learn?!” I shrieked, my voice raw against the wind. “It’s my house! My AC! Our son was having a seizure! He could have died! I showed you the ICU video, are you blind?!” A gust of wind tore across the ice, feeling like a thousand tiny knives on my exposed skin. My son let out a piercing, agonized wail. I stumbled toward the helicopter, waving my arms frantically. “Michael, you know his condition! If he keeps crying like this, you know what will happen!” His expression flickered. His reckless lifestyle before we had a child had resulted in our son being born with a congenital lung defect. The doctors had warned us repeatedly to keep him from crying excessively, as it posed a risk of suffocation. Michael had even quit drinking and smoking for him. He’d once beaten a previous nanny and put her in the hospital just for letting our son cry for two minutes during a diaper change. And now? For Nina, he was willing to risk our son’s life. Seeing his hesitation, I pressed on. “Michael, please…” “Michael, honey, let’s just bring her up,” Nina interrupted, her voice a delicate murmur. She snuggled deeper into his arms, her eyes glistening with fake tears. “I’m fine. So what if I almost collapsed from a chill? It’s not important. We shouldn’t let Lara and the baby suffer because of me…” She paused, then added slyly, “Besides, you shouldn’t worry too much, Michael. I saw the nanny cam footage from that day. The baby was in that air-conditioned room for hours, and even though he was crying later, probably because he got cold, nothing bad happened…” Almost collapsed? Crying for hours? She had practically sprinted out of my apartment that day. And I had rushed my son to the hospital the second she was gone. “She’s lying, Michael! The security app is on your phone! You can check the footage right now!” But before I could finish, his face hardened. He lowered the rope ladder, his voice a low growl. “Go! Strip them both! This woman can’t speak a single word of truth. Today, I’m going to teach her a real lesson!” The helicopter descended slightly, and Michael immediately pulled Nina into a protective embrace, fussing over her coat. “You lied about our son’s condition too, didn’t you?” he spat at me. “You’d even use your own child just to get attention! You make me sick, Lara. You keep making things worse for yourself. If you don’t start begging for forgiveness, you can stay down there and rot!” He then turned to Nina, cupping her face with a look of profound tenderness. “Nina, as long as I’m here, I will never let anyone hurt you. Don’t be afraid.” 2 The moment Michael had Nina settled, his goons swarmed me. They leered, their eyes raking over my body before one of them ripped away my thin robe. I scrambled backward, clutching my son, but I was no match for them. They shoved me to the ground, tore my son from my arms, and ripped off his last layer of clothing, tossing his naked body onto the ice. A heart-wrenching scream tore through the air, but it was already weaker, thinner than before. Panic seized me. I started crawling toward him, ignoring the searing pain as my bare skin froze to the ice, tearing away with every movement. A long, crimson trail marked my path. My son was also frozen to the surface, and every attempt to lift him only made him cry harder. I huddled over him, trying to use my own body heat to melt the ice beneath him, whispering soothing words as my own blood pooled around us. Minutes later, Michael must have noticed the growing sea of red. He pushed Nina aside and leaned down for a better look. Before he could speak, Nina slid down the ladder. “Lara, just apologize! A man has his pride. All his friends are here today. If you don’t apologize, how can he face them?” I lunged, grabbing the collar of her coat. “Why should I apologize?! My son was in the ICU because of you! Do you dare let Michael check the security footage right now?! Only an idiot like him would fall for your pathetic lies!” I screamed. “You said you collapsed? Show me your hospital report!” Michael had followed her down. My words made him look at Nina with a flicker of doubt. But in that instant, Nina tore off her own fur coat and dropped to her knees beside me with a thud. She started slapping her own face, hard. “Michael, it’s all my fault! Please, just take Lara and go home! Don’t fight with her because of me…” she sobbed. “But… Michael, I swear I wasn’t lying. I’ll just kneel here. In a few hours, when I collapse from the cold, then you’ll believe me…” The doubt in Michael’s eyes melted into pure adoration. He rushed to her side, helping her up with a look of utter devotion. Then he turned to me, his eyes like ice. “Lara! You have a real talent for twisting the truth. If I wasn’t here to protect her, you’d eat a sweet girl like Nina alive! Since you insist on this attitude, don’t blame me for what happens next!” He turned and barked an order. “Go! Open the cage and let the polar bear out! Let him have some fun!” A chorus of whoops and cheers erupted from the helicopter. “Whoa, never seen a polar bear play with a human before! Thanks for the show, Mrs. Cole!” They scrambled toward a large iron cage. Just as they were about to open it, a young woman’s timid voice piped up from behind. “Boss… my dad saw a polar bear on an expedition once. He said they’re incredibly aggressive. If they smell blood, they’ll… they’ll actually eat people. Look, Mrs. Cole and the baby are covered in it. If you let it out, someone might actually die…” Michael motioned for the man at the cage to pause. He was about to speak when Nina let out a faint, pained whimper. “Michael, never mind. I’m not afraid of collapsing. I’m just… I’m worried about the baby in my belly…” she whispered. “And that day… I had just found out I was pregnant when Lara threw me out. Maybe… maybe that’s why she’s so angry…” I didn’t even know the bitch was pregnant! But I had no chance to defend myself. Michael’s face became a mask of cold fury. “Open the cage!” he roared. The next second, the seven-foot-tall beast was charging directly at us. Michael hauled Nina onto the helicopter and watched me scramble away with my son, roaring with laughter. “Lara! Let’s see how tough you are now! You tried to harm Nina, and you tried to harm her unborn child! You deserve everything that’s coming to you!” 3 I ran, my lungs burning, my feet slipping on the ice. The young woman who had spoken up before tried to intervene again, but Michael cut her off. “Not another word. I have a medevac on standby. Nothing fatal will happen. But if you say one more thing, you can go down there and join her!” The girl shrank back, terrified into silence. The bear, true to her warning, was driven into a frenzy by the scent of blood. I desperately scooped up snow and rubbed it on our bodies, trying to mask the smell, but every step I took left a fresh, bloody footprint. The massive animal followed my trail, its roars echoing across the frozen wasteland. The extreme cold and blood loss made the world swim. Finally, my legs gave out. As I collapsed, I saw the bear lunging. In a last, desperate act, I rolled over, shielding my son with my own body. The bear’s paw, bigger than my head, slammed into my back. A sickening tearing sound filled my ears. I felt its claws scrape against my spine, and a river of hot blood streamed down my back. I arched my body, trying to let the warmth of my blood cover my son, hoping for some small sign of life, a whimper, a stir. Nothing. I reached up a trembling hand and placed it under his nose. There was no breath. Scrambling forward on my hands and knees, I screamed at the helicopter, a raw, animalistic sound of pure agony. “Michael! He’s not breathing! Even a monster doesn’t eat its own young! You’re a beast! We’ll haunt you from our graves!” My scream seemed to stun him. He ordered the pilot to descend. When he saw the vast, bloody slush on the ice below, the color drained from his face. Before he could speak, one of his men rushed forward. “Boss, we got a reply to that text she sent! It says… it says in one hour, we’ll all be meeting our maker…” That message sent Michael into a full-blown panic. He pointed a shaking finger at me. “Lara! What did you do?! The jammer was on! How could you get a reply?!” I stared back, my eyes burning with hatred. “What’s the matter, you coward? Scared now?! It doesn’t matter how I did it. The message is right! In less than an hour, you’re all going to hell! Every last one of you monsters!” Fear warred with fury in Michael’s eyes. He fell silent, but Nina stepped forward, pointing at me with a trembling finger. “Lara, what are you doing? I brought that equipment myself! It’s impossible to get a signal through it! You and Michael are family! Why would you try to scare him like this?!” She turned and clutched Michael’s arm. “Michael, let’s just bring her up. I’ll forget you ever promised to protect me. My feelings don’t matter. As long as you’re okay…” Her words reignited his rage. He turned to his men, his voice dripping with venom. “You guys like to play with knives, right? Use her as a target. Anyone who hits her gets ten million dollars, on the spot!” “Bring the chopper in closer! Let’s make this interesting!” A deafening cheer went up. The next second, a hail of blades rained down from the sky. My back was mangled; I couldn’t get to my feet. I could only roll on the ice, trying to shield my son’s body. But my movements were clumsy, and within seconds, five knives had embedded themselves in my legs and ribs. A blackish tint immediately spread from the wounds. The knives were poisoned. As I rolled, one of the knives in my ribs was driven deeper, tearing through my stomach and into my son’s back. A sharp, piercing cry erupted from the bundle in my arms. Seeing my son’s body, now covered in his own blood, I finally broke. “Michael! Pull me up! Get us to a hospital! The knives are poisoned! My son… he’s really not going to make it!” The raw terror in my voice seemed to cut through his rage. He grabbed a pair of binoculars and looked down. The sight of the black blood spreading across the ice made him lose his composure completely. He grabbed one of his men, shaking him violently. “You said it would just be a few scratches! What the hell is this?! Call the medevac! Call them now!” 4 The man looked at him helplessly. “Boss, Nina was in charge of the medevac. Only she has the contact number…” Michael grabbed Nina’s wrist, his voice trembling. “Nina, now! Call the rescue team! Save Lara! Save our son!” Nina, startled by his intensity, fumbled for her phone. But just as she raised it, she paused. “Michael, I can’t make the call. The signal jammer is still on. If we turn it off, her brother will get the message for sure…” Michael hesitated for a split second, then grabbed a walkie-talkie. “Fly to the nearest hospital! Now!” Before he could finish, Nina snatched the device from his hand. “Michael, she hasn’t even apologized yet. That’s the whole reason we came out here. If we just go back now, how will you look your friends in the eye…?” she cooed. “I’m just thinking of you, Michael. I don’t have any selfish motives…” He immediately switched off the radio. He looked down at me, curled in a pool of my own blood, and screamed, “Lara! Just apologize! Say you’re sorry and I’ll take you to the hospital!” His voice cracked. “I’m worried about him too! For our son’s sake, just give in! Please! I’m begging you!” The poison was making my vision blur. I pointed a bloody finger at him and used my last ounce of strength to scream, “You are a monster, Michael! Take us to a hospital now! Or when my brother gets here, I swear to God I will have him kill you!” Nina feigned a look of panicked concern. “Lara, stop being so stubborn! Your brother is not going to get that message! Just pretend to apologize and we can all go to the hospital, okay?” Michael was pacing frantically. He grabbed a megaphone and pleaded into it. “Lara, please! I’m on my knees here! Just say you’re sorry! It’s the only way to save our son! No one else can help you! Your brother is not coming!” The last word had barely left his lips when a single gunshot blew the megaphone out of his hand. Suddenly, the sky was filled with the thrum of rotor blades. Dozens of helicopters swarmed above us. “Her brother is here!”

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Five years. That’s how long it had been since we’d torn our lives apart. In that time, Ethan Hayes had become a titan, his name synonymous with success. So, when the host of a live televised interview announced a special segment—dialing a random number from his phone—I never imagined my screen would light up. But it did. And I froze. On the television, I saw Ethan’s gaze fall on the selected number. The blood drained from his face, his composure cracking for a fraction of a second. The host, blissfully unaware, prattled on as the phone rang and rang, unanswered. A wave of relief washed over Ethan’s features. He thought he was safe. But in that moment, a reckless impulse took hold of me. I answered. “Long time no see, Mr. Hayes.” On screen, Ethan’s expression morphed into a mask of cold fury. The host stammered, quickly fabricating an excuse to end the call. 1 The line went dead. I tossed my phone aside and stared at the row of empty prescription bottles lined up on the counter. A silent monument to a battle already lost. That’s right. I was dying. The same year Ethan and I divorced, I was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. The doctors gave me five years, tops. So I vanished from Crestwood City, erasing myself from the world he inhabited. He must have assumed I was already gone, a ghost from a life he’d successfully buried. This call, this proof that I was still breathing, must have been a bitter disappointment. I swept the empty bottles into the trash and walked to the balcony, wrapping my thin arms around myself. Sunlight washed over me, but all I felt was a profound, soul-deep chill. The doctor’s latest verdict echoed in my mind. Three months. That’s all I had left. 2 I never expected to see her at the hospital pharmacy. Tiffany Cole, the woman Ethan cherished, the treasure he kept locked in the palm of his hand. I tried to hurry past, a ghost in the bustling hallway, but her voice snagged me. “Elara? It is you, isn’t it?” I froze for a heartbeat, my back still to her. I pulled my face mask up higher, my only thought to run. But it was too late. She was already standing in front of me. Sighing, I lowered the mask, mustering a weak, shoulder-shrugging smile. “Miss Cole. Fancy seeing you here.” Her eyes widened in shock as she took in my gaunt face. “It really is you.” Her gaze darted instinctively to the large paper bag of medications in my hand. “Are you sick? Why do you need so much medicine?” The bag was opaque; she couldn’t see the labels. But I didn’t believe for a second that Ethan hadn’t told her. He adored her. I was the obstacle, the painful memory between them. Telling her I was dying of cancer would have been a relief, a gift. I had no desire to linger. I took a step to leave, but she moved to block my path, her face a whirlwind of a thousand unasked questions. “Excuse me, Miss Cole.” “Can we just talk for a minute?” I ignored her, sidestepping her and walking away. I’d only taken a few steps when a soft thud echoed behind me. I turned. My breath hitched in my throat. “Miss Cole!” “Ma’am!” Two bodyguards rushed forward, kneeling to help the woman who had collapsed on the polished floor. I stood rooted to the spot, my eyes drawn to the tall, imposing figure striding down the hall. The air crackled around him, thick with an authority that suffocated everything else. “Mr. Hayes, Miss Cole has fainted,” one of the bodyguards reported, looking up. “Get her back to her room. Now,” the man—Ethan—commanded, his voice sharp as broken glass. The bodyguards hastily lifted Tiffany and carried her off. Suddenly, the corridor was empty, save for the two of us. I felt like all the air had been vacuumed from my lungs. No one could command a space like Ethan Hayes. “I didn’t touch her,” I said, my voice thin. “She fainted on her own.” His eyes, cold and dark, narrowed on me. “She’s been perfectly fine. Then she runs into you, and suddenly she collapses out of nowhere?” “She has a heart condition, doesn’t she? Isn’t fainting a possibility?” That struck a nerve. The wrong one. “Five years,” he hissed, his voice a low, dangerous growl. “And you’re still alive. I have to admit, I’m surprised. You’re more resilient than I gave you credit for.” My hands clenched into fists at my sides, nails digging into my palms. “My doctor just told me I’m set to live a long and healthy life. Sorry to disappoint you, Mr. Hayes.” I turned my back on him and walked away, not daring to look back. His voice followed me, a chilling promise. “Elara. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll disappear from Crestwood. I’ll pretend today never happened.” A sliver of ice traced its way down my spine. 3 By the time I returned home from a late grocery run, evening had settled over the city. A small cluster of neighbors was gathered by my apartment door, their hushed whispers ceasing as I approached. A knot of dread tightened in my stomach. I broke into a run. The door was ajar. Inside, my world had been annihilated. Everything—furniture, dishes, memories—was smashed, shattered, and destroyed. The bag of groceries slipped from my numb fingers, scattering across the floor. I bit down on my lip, hard, tasting blood. Drawing a shaky breath, I stepped into the kitchen. The refrigerator door hung open, and on the floor, amid a sea of broken glass, lay the shattered vials of my insulin. For a moment, I couldn’t breathe. The world tilted, and my knees gave out, sending me down into the glittering shards. A presence behind me made me look up. A man in a dark suit stood in the doorway. “Miss Flynn,” he said, his tone devoid of emotion. “Mr. Hayes asked me to remind you that you were the one who broke the agreement by returning to Crestwood.” He paused. “This is just a warning.” He turned to leave. My eyes, burning and red, fixed on his back. “Give him a message for me,” I choked out, my voice raw. “Tell him to bring whatever he’s got. Roots run deep. I’ll die in this city, right where I belong.” 4 Three days later, I found myself at Crestwood’s most prestigious cemetery, picking out a prime plot with a view. The agent was drawing up the contract when a flash of movement caught my eye. A small, injured cat tumbled from the top of the stone wall, landing in a heap near the foundation. I walked over and gently scooped it into my arms. Its tiny body trembled. “Shh, it’s okay,” I whispered. “As soon as I’m done here, I’ll take you to a vet.” “Mr. Hayes, our director is waiting for you upstairs.” My head snapped up. My gaze collided with Ethan’s. His eyes narrowed, a flicker of confusion in them. “What is she doing here?” he asked the manager guiding him. The manager, eager to please, answered immediately. “This young lady is here to purchase a plot, sir. She’s just chosen one.” “Don’t—” The word died in my throat, too late. A slow, cruel smirk spread across Ethan’s lips. “Is that so? In that case, I’m afraid there are no plots left to sell her.” He didn’t even look at me. “Cancel that contract. I’ll speak to your boss personally.” I clutched the small cat to my chest, a hollow ache spreading through me. “Ethan,” I called out, my voice shaking. “When I die, I have to be buried somewhere.” He paused on the stairs, just for a moment. “Miss Flynn,” he said, without turning around. “How you’re buried is no concern of mine.” My vision blurred. A symptom of the advanced cancer—temporary blindness. It usually passed quickly. “Don’t you feel any guilt, stealing a grave from a dying woman?” “No,” he answered, sharp and final, before continuing up the stairs and out of sight. As I walked out of the cemetery, the world was a hazy, indistinct blur. A man followed me out. He was one of the groundskeepers. “Miss,” he said quietly. “I know a place. They still sell plots there.” 5 Three hours later, I stood on a small hill on the outskirts of Crestwood, looking down at a simple, rectangular hole dug into the earth. It was remote, but the afternoon sun poured into the pit, making the soil itself seem warm and inviting. “This is my family’s land,” the groundskeeper explained. “We do traditional burials out here. Just dig a hole, and fill it back in.” He hesitated. “It’s not fancy, I know. But it’s cheap.” “How much?” “How about three hundred dollars?” I transferred him fifteen hundred. The extra was for a promise: that when the time came, he would be the one to cover me with that warm earth. He agreed instantly. 6 The pages of my calendar dwindled, one by one. Looking at the remaining balance in my bank account—money my parents had left me long ago—I decided on one last act of defiance. I took a cab to the most exclusive club downtown. I booked the largest private suite and ordered a half-dozen male models, all sharp jaws and broad shoulders. If I was going to die unloved, why not have a little fun first? I don’t know how long he’d been standing there, watching us play our drinking games, a silent, judgmental shadow in the open doorway. It was Ethan. One look at his thunderous face, and the half-bottle of champagne I’d consumed might as well have been water. His lips twisted into a sneer as he took in the scene. His assistant, Leo, stood just behind him, phone raised, recording everything. “Having fun, Miss Flynn?” he drawled, his voice dripping with contempt. “Finally showing your true colors, are we?” A sharp pain lanced through my chest. That tone—always so distant, so mocking. The undisguised pleasure he took in finding my breaking point. But what was I even doing? Still letting his cold indifference hurt me? I was a fool. I forced a breezy smile. “Absolutely! It’s a blast. Care to join us, Mr. Hayes?” He recoiled as if I’d offered him poison. “No, thank you. This isn’t my scene,” he said, his voice clipped. “Enjoy yourself.” He turned and strode away. Over his shoulder, I heard him instruct his assistant. “Send that to my grandmother. Let her see the ‘gentle and well-mannered’ daughter-in-law she was always so fond of.” 7 The party was over. I dismissed everyone but one of the young men, asking him to wait with me in the suite. The lights were dim, and I sat wrapped in the shadows, my mind a complete blank. “Achoo!” The air conditioning was blasting, and I hugged myself, shivering. Only I knew that in the darkness, tears were streaming down my face. The man I loved—the man I still loved, God help me—hated me to his very core. I eventually led the young model out of the club, right as Ethan and his entourage were preparing to leave. Their laughter died as they saw us. Ethan was the last to look over, his face an unreadable mask. “Taking him home with you?” he asked, his voice flat. I lifted my chin, tightening my grip on the young man’s hand. “Yes. I’m quite pleased with him.” I expected another sarcastic jab, another cruel remark. Instead, he just stared at me, his eyes dark and intense. I held my breath, then led the model to a waiting car and disappeared into the night. 8 When I woke up, the first thing I saw was the harsh, sterile white of a hospital ceiling. The sun was blinding. I tried to pull the sheet over my head, but a hand yanked it back down. “Hiding now, are we?” a nurse scolded. “Didn’t think about this when you were out drinking, did you? Forgetting you’re a patient?” I managed a weak, guilty smile. “Lesson learned. I’ll never do it again.” Days ago, not long after leaving the club, I had started vomiting blood. The terrified taxi driver had diverted straight to the ER. 9 After days of lying in bed, I felt strong enough to walk. I decided to stretch my legs, wandering the quiet hospital floors. As I passed a VIP suite, I heard voices and paused. “Ethan, can’t I go home yet? I’m so bored of this place.” It was Tiffany. “The doctor said you’re still a bit anemic. Just a couple more days of observation.” Ethan’s voice was gentle, soothing. Tiffany pouted. “Everyone’s a little anemic. It’s not a big deal.” My feet felt glued to the floor. Through the crack in the door, I saw Ethan reach out and gently stroke her hair. “Be good. Trust me. Just two more days.” She stuck her tongue out playfully. “Okay. By the way… is Elara really… dying?” “Yes,” he confirmed. “I had someone look into her case file. A month, maybe a little more. That’s it.” I watched his face, searching for any flicker of emotion. But there was nothing. He was a man of immense self-control, a fortress of secrets, but as he spoke of my death, his expression was placid. His breathing was even. My life, my death—it truly meant nothing to him. “But she really loved you,” Tiffany said softly. “I heard Alex and the guys talking about it. Once, they were playing a game, and they joked that you needed a liver transplant. Without a second of hesitation, she said she’d give you half of hers.” She looked down. “When they asked me, I hesitated. I was scared it would hurt.” Tears welled in her eyes. Ethan sat on the edge of the bed and pulled her into his arms. “Silly girl,” he murmured. “I love you. You don’t have to do anything for me. If it ever came to that, I’d be the one making the sacrifice for you.” I turned and walked away, my legs carrying me to the end of another, deserted corridor. The world outside the window was bathed in the hazy, melancholic light of dusk. All these years, the doomed connection between us… it was as simple as this: I loved Ethan Hayes. And he didn’t love me. My love hadn’t just been unrequited; it had curdled, transforming his indifference into a deep, abiding hatred. A hatred so profound, he was now patiently waiting for me to die. 10 Sunlight broke through the clouds. I was packing my small bag, determined to leave. “What do you think you’re doing?” I turned to face the young nurse, Nurse Miller. I shrugged. “Going home. This bed is killing my back.” Her eyes widened in disbelief. She snatched the bag from my hand and threw it back onto the bed. “Go home? Are you insane? Look at yourself! You’re in no condition to be discharged.” She put her hands on her hips. “Don’t you know? The Grim Reaper can come for you at 3 AM, but a hospital can keep him waiting a few extra days. You go home, and he can take you whenever he damn well pleases.” We stared each other down for a long moment. Finally, my strength gave out. I sank to the floor, hot tears splashing onto the linoleum. “But I don’t want to live any longer, Nurse Miller,” I whispered, my hand clutching the hem of her scrubs. “Please, just let me go.” She looked stunned. “But… what about your family? You have to think of them.” I shook my head. “I’ve been an orphan since I was a little girl.” She gasped. “Then… isn’t there anyone in this world you care about?” I shook my head again. “Not anymore.” This time, it was her eyes that filled with tears. “No wonder,” she murmured, her voice thick with emotion. “You were unconscious for days. Not a single visitor came.” She knelt beside me and wrapped me in a tight, fierce hug. Then, she told me she would handle my discharge papers. As dusk fell, I walked out of the hospital. Ethan and Tiffany remained inside, the hospital walls separating us into two different worlds. This time, as I left, it felt different. I felt lighter. Like I had finally, truly let something go. 11 The calendar on my wall had only one month left. I booked a flight. A final trip. I never could have anticipated the cruel twist of fate. As the plane was about to take off, the last passenger to board was Ethan Hayes. And his seat was right next to mine. I stared in disbelief. After the hospital, I thought I’d never have to see him again. He noticed me at the same time. As he stowed his luggage in the overhead bin, I quickly put on an eye mask, shutting out the world. He was annoyed by my presence, and I had no desire to see him, let alone invite more humiliation. The first-class seats were spacious, designed for sleeping. I feigned sleep for almost the entire flight, my hair probably a tangled mess against the headrest. Beside me, I could hear the quiet, steady tapping of a keyboard. He was working. Only when the pilot announced our final descent did I sit up and remove the mask. I accepted a small snack from the flight attendant, needing the energy. “Where are you headed?” I looked up, surprised. He was talking to me. I took a sip of milk. “Isn’t everyone on this plane going to Veridia?” His expression tightened. “I mean, where in Veridia?” “Are you concerned about me?” I asked, a hint of disbelief in my voice. He gave me a look that screamed, Are you an idiot? Just then, the plane touched down. Of course he wasn’t concerned. He was terrified we’d run into each other again. I stood up and grabbed my bag from the bin. “It’s a big state, Ethan,” I said, not answering his question. “We won’t see each other again.” I was the first one off the plane. I’m done loving you. 12 Three days later, we ran into each other in the lobby of the Grand Veridian Hotel. Apparently, great minds—or at least, people with money—thought alike. A part of me knew our paths were fated to cross one last time. “Elara.” I had already walked past him, but his voice stopped me in my tracks. I took a deep breath before turning around. “Is there a problem? There are plenty of other hotels in this city, Mr. Hayes. You’re free to change yours.” “Judging by your attitude, I take it you’ve finally come to your senses.” I wasn’t expecting that. “I have,” I said, the words feeling surprisingly true. “I’ve let it go. I wish you and Miss Cole a lifetime of happiness.” “Thank you,” he replied, his tone even. “And I hope your remaining days are… peaceful.” My hand clenched into a fist. “They will be.” I was about to walk away for good. “Mr. Hayes, I have the laptop. We can head to the meeting now.” Ethan’s assistant, Leo, had just joined us. It happened in a flash. A man with a knife burst from the crowd, shoving past me, his eyes fixed on the man behind me. “Ethan, look out!” The warning barely left my lips before the man was on him. But I had already moved, throwing myself between them. A searing, white-hot pain exploded in my abdomen. “Get the hell off him!” “You crazy bitch!” The world devolved into a chaotic blur of shouting and motion. I felt a strange disconnect, as if the blood pouring from my body wasn’t mine. But I refused to let go, my fingers a vise grip on the attacker’s arm. So much blood. It hurt… my grip was slipping… Then Ethan was there, a blur of controlled violence. He kicked the attacker to the ground, sent the knife skittering across the marble floor, and his eyes—his eyes landed on me. For the first time, I saw them widen with an emotion I couldn’t name. It looked like terror. “Elara.” He’d never said my name with such softness. He dropped to his knees, catching me as my legs gave out. Leo was pinning the attacker down, shouting into his phone. “This… Miss Flynn?” Ethan roared, a sound of pure primal fury. “What are you staring at? Call an ambulance!” I tried to speak, but only blood gurgled from my lips. I clamped my mouth shut. “Don’t talk,” he commanded, his voice shaking as he gently wiped the blood from the corner of my mouth. “We’re almost at the hospital. Just hold on.”

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The pop-up bloomed on my husband’s laptop screen like a toxic flower. I’d been using his desktop in the home office to stream a show, a moment of quiet indulgence, when the AI assistant he was developing for the company made its presence known. [Hey there, boss man 😉 Time to log off. We need you rested for our main event tonight… 🔥] The font was a bubbly, almost childish script, framed by an explosion of digital pink hearts. I stared, the sound from my show fading into a dull roar in my ears. A single screenshot was all it took. I found him across town, charming a client over lunch at a rooftop restaurant. I didn’t wait for their small talk to conclude. I simply walked up to the table, phone in hand, and slid it in front of him. The screenshot glowed. “Care to explain?” Julian’s smile faltered for only a fraction of a second. Then, it returned, wider and more indulgent than before. He reached out and pinched my cheek, a gesture meant to be endearing that felt deeply condescending. “Sweetheart, relax. It’s just the in-house beta for a new AI companion. I’m running the final tests myself.” I held his gaze, my expression unreadable. “I see.” I nodded calmly, retrieved my phone, and turned to leave. Before I was even out of the restaurant, I was on a call to a trusted contact in our IT department. The IP address behind that “virtual girlfriend” was in my hands less than an hour later. I posted it in the company-wide executive channel, a digital space normally reserved for quarterly reports and market analysis. [Whoever this belongs to has one hour to come forward. Consider this your only chance at a graceful exit.] If you’re going to play me for a fool with my own money, you’d better be prepared for a very public, very ugly ruin. Chapter 1 The executive channel, usually buzzing with activity, fell into a dead, watchful silence. Five minutes later, the door to my office burst open. Julian. His forehead was beaded with sweat, his breathing ragged. He looked genuinely panicked. “Eleanor, please. It’s just a program. A test. You have to believe me.” He hadn’t come alone. A few of the company’s senior staff, the old guard loyal to him, trailed in his wake, ready to close ranks. “He’s right, Mrs. Croft,” our Head of Development said earnestly. “It’s a closed-loop internal beta. There’s no live operator on the other end.” “The dialogue is all pre-scripted,” another added, her tone placating. “Just placeholder content to test user engagement metrics.” Our Director of Technology, a man I’d known for years, even produced meeting minutes, pointing to a specific line item. “See, Eleanor? ‘AI Companion Dialogue Templates.’ We all brainstormed them. The goal was to increase user affinity and… stickiness.” He winced at the corporate jargon, knowing how I hated it. “Julian was just doing his due diligence for the team’s project. It would kill us to think you’d misunderstand his commitment.” Their words were a carefully constructed wall of defense, brick after brick laid to protect him. Julian took my hand, his eyes wide with the sincerity that had once been my undoing. “Honey, I am so sorry this upset you. I hate that it made you unhappy for even a second. If you don’t like it, I’ll pull the plug on the test right now. I’ll never touch it again.” He knew just how to wield that earnestness. It was the same look he’d given me when he was a brilliant, broke nobody with a world-changing idea. I hadn’t invested in the idea; I’d invested in him, in that unwavering belief in his eyes. I remembered the nights he’d slept at the office for two weeks straight, trying to make his first venture profitable. I never once questioned his dedication, just kept our home a sanctuary for him to return to. When he needed capital, I went to my father and not only secured the seed money but negotiated a deal where Julian would retain all profits for the first five years. That first business failed. I didn’t blame him. I told him he’d earned a priceless education in entrepreneurship and used my influence to bring him into my father’s company, Vance Sterling. The day he was promoted to President, at a party thrown in his honor, he proposed to me for the second time. He swore his love would remain as pure and fierce as it was in the beginning, that I would always be the only one. Every year on our anniversary, he would propose again, a ritual to prove, he said, that his heart had never strayed. By all accounts, his loyalty should have been forged in steel. I pressed my fingers to my temples, a wave of exhaustion washing over me. “I understand,” I said, waving them away. “I won’t pursue it any further.” A collective sigh of relief filled the room as they filed out. Julian’s shoulders slumped as he let out his own breath. He moved to embrace me, but I held up a hand, stopping him. I had already seen the full chat logs. The AI assistant messaged him every half hour. While most were benign reminders about his schedule or the weather, the language was cloyingly intimate, sometimes bordering on suggestive. And then there were the stickers—a custom set of reaction GIFs, all featuring the same woman, her face always artfully obscured. The curve of her neck, the line of her jaw, a hand brushing back a strand of hair. It was unmistakably the same person. Doubt, once planted, is a weed that grows in the dark. I had to know. Feigning a headache, I excused myself to the restroom. From the cool, quiet of the marble stall, I forwarded the IP address to a different contact—someone whose loyalty was to my family, not to my husband. The response came back in minutes. The user was located inside the Vance Sterling building. Cross-referencing the IP with HR network assignments took another ten minutes. And then I had a name. Chloe. A new intern in the Operations department. A sharp, acidic pang shot through my chest. No live operator, they had said. A chorus of liars, all of them. And now I had her name, her file, her face. The elevator ride down to the fourteenth floor felt like a slow, cold descent. I saw her immediately. In a sea of employees focused on their screens, she was the only one with a reality show playing in full-screen mode on her monitor. Her desk was an island of luxury: a row of expensive hand creams, imported snacks, and a personal humidifier humming softly, puffing a cloud of scented mist just for her. I walked into the open-plan office. Her eyes flickered towards me, a flash of recognition or perhaps alarm. In a single, swift motion, she slapped a small, framed photo on her desk face down. Chapter 2 As I approached her desk, she paused her show with a lazy click of the mouse. My hands tightened into fists at my sides. Had Julian given her this… this bubble of privilege? “Excuse me,” I began, my voice even and cool. “Is your workload so light that you have time for television?” Chloe glanced up at me, an unimpressed look on her young face. “I take a break when I’m tired. What’s it to you? Are you from facilities? Paper recycling is down the hall.” The employee at the next desk looked like she wanted to melt into the floor, but she managed a choked whisper. “Chloe… that’s Mrs. Croft. The founder’s daughter. The President’s wife.” Chloe’s eyes widened in feigned innocence. “Oh, my God, I’m so sorry. I just… I always pictured the President’s wife as being so glamorous. The thought never even crossed my mind. My mistake.” Rage, hot and blinding, surged through me. Before I could speak, Chloe’s gaze darted to a point somewhere behind me, and her eyes instantly welled with tears. Her voice became a fragile whisper. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Croft… I’ll get back to work right away…” “What’s going on here?” Julian’s voice, sharp and commanding, cut through the office quiet from behind me. Instantly, the previously silent employees swarmed, their voices a chorus of concerned chatter. “Mrs. Croft was criticizing Chloe’s work ethic. The poor girl got so upset.” “Chloe finished all her tasks for the day. Her team lead said she could take a break. Mrs. Croft is being a little harsh.” I was stunned. Just moments ago, these people were silent, terrified of being caught in the crossfire. The second Julian appeared, they found their courage—all of it aimed squarely at me, in defense of her. “Enough,” Julian snapped. He pointed a stern finger at Chloe. “You. My office. Tomorrow morning. You’ll be reporting your work progress directly to me from now on.” Chloe lowered her head in submission, but I saw it—the ghost of a triumphant smirk on her lips. My heart twisted. Was it a punishment, or an invitation for a private rendezvous? I composed myself, raising my voice to address the entire department. “Actually, I’m not here to monitor productivity. I’m here to announce a corporate-wide hardware upgrade, starting with this department. Every computer is being replaced, effective immediately.” A wave of surprised excitement rippled through the staff. Only Chloe pouted. “That’s so sudden. I’m used to my computer. Can I opt out?” “No,” Julian said, his tone final. He then turned to me, a placating smile on his face. “My wife speaks for me on this. You will all follow her lead.” Chloe stared at him, her face flushing with disbelief and anger. I didn’t spare her another glance. I told Julian I was heading home and left without waiting for him. He came home early that evening, looking for all the world like a remorseful husband. In one hand, he held a cake from my favorite bakery; in the other, the designer handbag I’d admired a few weeks ago. His face was a mask of guilt. “Eleanor, I’m sorry. The AI beta test has been reassigned. I promise I will never again engage with anything that makes you doubt me.” I accepted the gifts, my voice flat. “It was for work. I understand.” He sighed, pulling me into an embrace I did not return. His voice was thick with manufactured pain. “I know I’ve been neglecting you. I’m sorry. My phone password is your birthday. You can check it anytime you want. I have nothing to hide.” I nodded against his chest, saying nothing. Later, while he was in the shower, I opened his phone. It was pristine. Spotless. No suspicious apps, no hidden folders. And then, a notification lit up the screen. A text from a delivery service. [Your order from The Daily Grind has been delivered. Enjoy the hot beverage!] He’d ordered it for her. For her cramps, a little voice in my head whispered. Before coming home to apologize to me with cakes and handbags, he had made sure his mistress was comfortable. My hand trembled, the phone suddenly feeling impossibly heavy. I almost dropped it. He had become a stranger who wore my husband’s face. Chapter 3 I slept in the guest room. Sleep, however, never came. By morning, the tech team had replaced every computer in the Operations department. I located the tower that had belonged to Chloe and had my specialist retrieve it. Within hours, he had recovered the entire hard drive. Her machine also had a client for the AI assistant. And just as I suspected, the chat logs were all there. She was the AI, Julian’s “virtual girlfriend.” The theory I had wrestled with all night was now a cold, hard fact. A tremor ran through my hands. He had mobilized company resources, coerced senior employees into lying for him, all to protect this… affair. With a shaking hand, I clicked open the chat history. I saw now that the logs on his computer had been heavily edited. Hers told the full story. Julian, the doting lover, was a character I had never known. To buy her a single latte without raising suspicion, he’d ordered coffee for her entire fifty-person department. To ensure her internship was a breeze, he lowered the performance quotas for everyone on her team. He asked her what color stockings she was wearing. What style of underwear. They had a place. A meeting spot they called their “nest.” Just last week, they had planned to meet there. She had asked if she should bring a morning-after pill. His reply was simple: No need. Followed by another message. [Our baby would be stronger than anything she could ever carry.] The words on the screen blurred. I felt as if lightning had struck the base of my spine. Last year, I was pregnant with his child. Our child. He came home one night after a client dinner, drunk. He called me to open the garage door for him, and in his stupor, he hit the accelerator instead of the brake. He pinned me against the wall. The baby was gone. When he sobered up, he fell to his knees, sobbing, begging for forgiveness. He swore he would pray for our lost child’s soul every single day. I had forgiven him. For us, for our future, I had buried the pain and forgiven him. And now this. The man who killed our child was telling another woman that I was too weak to be a mother. A tremor, violent and cold, seized my entire body. I gripped the mouse so hard I thought the plastic might crack. I sat there in the dark, the screen’s glow illuminating my face, until the city lights outside my window began to blur into the dawn. My life, thirty years of it, felt like it was fracturing at the seams. I saved everything, every file, every chat log. Then I drove to the office to find Julian, who had texted me to say he was working late. I saw his car in his designated VIP spot in the underground garage, its lights flashing once as he unlocked it. And then I saw them. He and Chloe, emerging from two different elevator banks, their paths converging at his black sedan. I shrank back into the shadows behind a concrete pillar. They didn’t even make it into the car. The moment they reached each other, they fell into a desperate, hungry kiss, like two lovers who had been starved of each other for years. When the kiss finally broke, Julian framed her face with his hands, his voice a low, intense murmur. “Just wait. As soon as I’m named Chairman tomorrow, I’ll find a way to make Eleanor… disappear. Then we can be together, forever.” Chloe gazed up at him, her eyes shining with adoration. “I know you’ve been planning this for years, Julian. I’ll wait. I know you’ll succeed.” A chill so profound it felt like ice water flooding my veins shot up my spine. My knees buckled, and I had to brace myself against the pillar to keep from collapsing. My heart felt like it was being shredded. This wasn’t just an affair. It was a long con. My entire life with him, our marriage, his career… it was all a stepping stone. He had used me. He had used my family. He had used our dead child. I waited until their taillights vanished up the ramp before I stumbled out of the darkness. I didn’t go home that night. Julian called and texted, a frantic barrage of feigned concern. I sent him a single reply: [See you at the shareholder meeting tomorrow.] That was all it took. He immediately relaxed, texting back a simple, “Sleep well, honey,” not even bothering to ask where I was. The next day, I walked into the boardroom precisely on time. Julian’s face lit up when he saw me. He rushed over with the proxy voting form. As the majority shareholder, I usually delegated my voting rights to him. Today was his coronation, the day he would leverage my shares to secure the Chairmanship of my father’s company. My 40% stake would guarantee his victory. I signed the document. As I handed it back, I glanced across the room and saw Chloe, standing proudly among the employee representatives, a smug smile on her face.

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In college, I was the most popular girl on campus, and I fell in love with a boy in worn-out Converse. For the twelve years of our marriage, we were the couple everyone looked up to, the one our friends called “goals.” I supported him every step of the way, from a broke kid with a dream to a CEO with a seven-figure income. Lately, however, I’d discovered he was in love with a forty-year-old receptionist at his company. When I asked my husband about it, he just said, “Let’s get a divorce.” He blamed me. Said that while I had fulfilled his physical needs, I had neglected his spiritual world, that I was too focused on our child. Excuse me? Was he a three-year-old? Did he need to be breastfed? A grown man in his thirties was coming to me for his “spiritual needs”? And what about my spiritual needs? Who was supposed to fulfill those? Should I go out and find some old boy toy to keep me company? It’s true what they say: when a man is starving, he’ll eat anything. Fine. Divorce it is. 1 When Leo saw the divorce papers on his desk, he didn’t say a word. The terms were simple: the house, the cars, and our son all went to me. He would pay me a one-time settlement of twenty million dollars for alimony and child support. After that, we would not contact each other again. He was in the middle of a conference call. He glanced down, and I saw his expression flicker for a fraction of a second at the words “Divorce Agreement.” He then gave a slight nod, acknowledging he’d seen it. I left his home office and closed the door. To save us both time, I began packing all of his clothes and belongings. It took three large suitcases. Not wanting to miss anything, I even went up to the attic and found a box of his childhood photos to put inside. The last thing I saw was our wedding photo, tucked away in a corner. In it, Leo was impossibly handsome, and my smile was radiant. We were wrapped in each other’s arms, bathed in sunlight. I could almost hear his voice, a constant whisper in my ear back then: “I love you so much, Stella.” “I’m the luckiest man in the world.” I met Leo in college. When we met, he was a scholarship kid in frayed jeans and tattered sneakers. Plenty of guys were after me back then, but I only had eyes for him. He was calm, kind, and beautiful. He had a quiet strength I admired. We got married right after graduation. He started a company with a friend, and after I got pregnant, I became a full-time mother. I poured everything I had into taking care of Leo, our son, and our home. As the business grew, so did Leo’s networking dinners and late nights. I carved out time between school runs and household chores to stay in shape, to learn about makeup and fashion. And Leo, to his credit, was a model husband. No matter how busy he was, he always came home and helped with our son, helped with dinner, and always took my side in any disagreement with his mother. To the outside world, we were the perfect couple. I don’t know when it started, but slowly, the meetings began to shift to the evenings. Sometimes, he’d pull an all-nighter at the office. A friend once joked that I should keep a closer eye on him. I laughed it off, but a seed of doubt had been planted. A few times, I brought late-night food to the office for him and his team. There was never anything out of the ordinary. Just a group of people in a conference room, working late. And the receptionist would be there, waiting quietly at her desk. Her name was Diane. She was in her forties, not very tall, thin, with short, unassuming hair. But her voice was gentle, almost melodic, a stark contrast to her plain appearance. She always smiled and greeted me warmly. For years, I had braced myself for the possibility of this day. I’d imagined a beautiful young assistant, a bright-eyed intern, or a sharp, powerful female executive he worked with. I had never, not once, considered the receptionist. I’d heard she was divorced; her husband had cheated on her. This was her first job in years, and she was grateful for it. She came in early, memorized everyone’s coffee order, and occasionally brought in homemade pastries. Some of the employees even paid her to make their lunch every day. When I heard about it, I’d told Leo that she must be struggling and that he should look out for her. He’d been dismissive. “The office isn’t a charity, Stella. I’ve already told her to stop conducting personal business at work.” At the time, I’d teased him for being a heartless CEO. Looking back now, he was probably just upset that Diane had to go home and cook for his employees after a long day. As for why Leo chose today to ask for a divorce… it was because I made him his usual hangover remedy this morning. He’d stared at the bowl, sighed, and pushed it slightly away. After a long silence, he looked up at me, his eyes full of exhaustion, and asked if we could get a divorce. He confessed everything. The affair had been going on for six months. Every time he said he was working late, he was really sneaking away to a hotel with her. My heart shattered into a million pieces. I fought to keep my voice steady. I asked him who it was. When he said Diane’s name, I thought I’d misheard him. A wave of profound powerlessness washed over me. I felt so cold. 2 By the time Leo finished his call and came out of the office, I had finished dinner, cleaned the kitchen, and was sitting on the sofa, watching a TV show. As if nothing had happened. He went to take a shower. Halfway through, I heard him call out instinctively. “Stella, where’s my towel?” I didn’t turn around. “I packed it. You can use mine if you want. I’ll just throw it out after you’re done.” The only response was a long, heavy silence. When Leo came out, he finally saw the three suitcases by the front door. He sat down across from me and pushed the divorce agreement back in my direction. “For the child support, I can give you fifteen million now, and the rest in monthly…” I cut him off. “No. A one-time payment. A clean break.” I met his gaze. “I don’t imagine she would want you to have any more contact with me.” He looked confused. “He’s not just your son, Stella. I have a right to be a part of his life. I know this is my fault, and I’m willing to compensate you, but you don’t need to use our son to punish me.” I paused the show and looked at him, my expression serious. “Cheating was your mistake. Paying alimony and child support is the legal and moral consequence. Considering your assets, taking the house and cars is hardly asking for too much.” “As for our son, I am the one who has raised him since the day he was born. He is a highly sensitive child who needs consistency and attention. Tell me, Leo, between your work and your new romance, how much energy do you honestly have to give him? Being a part of his life is about more than money. It’s about time.” He was speechless. Finally, he said, “I’m not paying twenty million dollars to be cut out of my son’s life.” I opened the document. “The twenty million is alimony and child support. If you wish to provide additional emotional support, you can transfer funds directly to our son’s account. I’ll set one up for him.” Leo suddenly laughed, a bitter, humorless sound. “You know, Stella, I never realized how much you loved money. It’s all you can talk about.” “What else is there to talk about? Is loving you worth anything anymore?” That shut him up. His face hardened. He took a pen and signed the papers with a sharp, angry stroke, then scheduled a time for us to go to the courthouse tomorrow. He called his driver to pick him up. I finished my show and went to bed. When I woke up, Leo was gone. My son ran out of his room and hugged me, chattering excitedly about a happy dream he’d had. As I listened, I gently told him that Daddy was very busy at work and might have to be away on a business trip for a long time. Normally, he would whine and ask to call Leo, demanding to know when he was coming home. This time, he just said, “Oh.” He thought for a moment. “That’s okay. As long as I have you, Mommy.” That’s when I broke. Tears streamed down my face. I made an excuse and ran to the bathroom to compose myself. The deepest pain of this divorce wasn’t the betrayal; it was the guilt of not being able to give my son a complete family. But I knew, with absolute certainty, that this was not my fault. I dropped my son off at school, then met Leo at the courthouse. We filed the initial paperwork. There was a mandatory 30-day cooling-off period. After that, it would be final. Back in my car, I circled the date on my calendar. Divorce countdown: 30 days. 3 I debated whether to tell my parents. I had grown up in this city; all our friends and family were here. My parents were retired teachers, and I was their only child. They were open-minded, but my father’s health had been poor the last couple of years. I decided to wait. Two days later, Leo called me. He rarely called; he preferred to text because I always replied immediately. I had deleted and blocked his number last night. I answered. His voice was casual, as if nothing had changed. “Stella, your mom just called me. She’s made a big dinner and wants us to come over tonight.” He paused. “I know your dad isn’t well. I think… maybe we should wait to tell them about the divorce, until he’s stronger. What time should we go?” He added, “And his birthday is next Sunday. I should probably go with you to that, too.” Any hesitation I had about telling them vanished. “That won’t be necessary,” I said. “You don’t have to be stubborn about this, Stella. Their health is what’s important.” My voice was flat. “If you really cared about my father’s health, you wouldn’t have chosen this moment to cheat on me and end our marriage. My father may be unwell, but his mind is sharp. I don’t think he’d want me to stay in a marriage with a man who is unfaithful.” “Leo.” “Yes?” “Don’t call me again. If you want to see our son, follow the agreement. Once a week.” His tone shifted, the pretense of negotiation gone. “Stella, I’ll say it again. He is my son, too. My family…” “But you’re the one who abandoned his family, aren’t you?” I heard him slam something down on his desk on the other end. I hung up and took a moment to pull myself together. Then, I drove to the mall. I was going to replace everything in the house that he liked—the bedding, the sofa, all of it. And I wanted it delivered today. After the new furniture arrived, I cleaned the entire house from top to bottom. Then, I went to my parents’ place. When my mom saw me arrive alone, she assumed Leo was busy. I was silent for a moment, then my voice came out as a quiet, nervous, “Mom.” She immediately knew something was wrong. She stopped what she was doing, looked at me for a long moment, and then simply pulled me into her arms. I didn’t have to say a word. She could feel my pain. I told her everything, my voice as steady as I could make it. When I was done, she handed me a tissue. Her voice was soft. “It’s okay. Divorce is common these days. He was the one who was unfaithful. It’s better to know now. It’s over.” She took my hand, her eyes glistening. “Stella, I only ask one thing of you.” “Once this is done, no matter what happens, you never, ever go back to him.” “I promise,” I sobbed. Later, my mom and dad talked in their room for a long time. When my dad came out, he handed me a large check. He said today was a new beginning, worthy of a celebration. “I hope my baby girl,” he said, his voice thick with emotion, “will be happy and free, always.” I cried in my car for a long time after leaving their house. I had been so afraid of disappointing them. They had been married for forty years and barely ever argued. When I chose to marry Leo, a boy with nothing, they had respected my decision. Now that he was a success and everyone envied me, they were supporting my decision to leave him. I wiped my tears and looked at the calendar. Divorce countdown: 28 days. 4 When I picked my son up from school, he told me that Grandpa had called and invited him to stay over for a week. He was so excited; they had made a plan to fly a new drone together. After dropping him off, my mom walked me back to my car. “Go out, Stella. Have some fun. Be happy.” She stood on the curb, watching me until I drove away. I looked at myself in the rearview mirror. My face was pale, my eyes were dull. I took out my makeup bag and put on a bright, defiant red lipstick. I went home, packed a bag, and went on a road trip for a week. I saw new places, met new people, and listened to their stories. When I came back, I felt like myself again. I looked at the calendar. Divorce countdown: 21 days. It was time for my father’s birthday party. They had booked a room at a hotel and invited a few tables of our closest friends and family. Many of them asked where Leo was. My parents deflected the questions. Just before dinner, my father stood up to give a toast. At that exact moment, Leo walked in. He was impeccably dressed, carrying several expensive-looking gift bags and a thick envelope. Our relatives greeted him warmly. He waited for my father to finish his speech, then walked over. “Dad,” he said, handing him the envelope. “Happy birthday.” 5 My father glanced at him, his expression neutral. “Mr. Chen, you’re too kind. But we can’t accept this. After all, you and Stella are divorced now. We wouldn’t want to impose.” Leo’s smile froze on his face. The room, which had been buzzing with chatter, fell completely silent. His voice was barely a whisper. “We’re still in the process…” My father shook his head. “It’s the same thing.” He turned and began to greet other guests. Leo stood there, frozen. My mother politely took the gift bags and handed them back to him. He didn’t stay. After he left, no one mentioned his name again. It was a relief. I was healing, accepting, and slowly shedding the identity of “Mrs. Chen.” I was becoming Stella again. Even the staff in my apartment building, having heard the news from somewhere, started calling me Ms. Lin instead of Mrs. Chen. I decided I needed to get busy. I was going to open a coffee shop. I found a place that was for sale, already beautifully renovated and in a great location. I signed the lease immediately. The staff agreed to stay on, so I could keep the doors open while I spent some time refining the menu and rebranding. I spent the whole day at the shop, planning. As I got in my car to head home, I glanced at the calendar. Divorce countdown: 15 days.

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1 On our fifth anniversary, I found an old phone in Tim’s safe. The password was his first love’s birthday. Inside, it chronicled every sweet moment of their past. Meanwhile, his current photo album didn’t contain a single picture of me. “Find anything interesting, Kate? Prying into other people’s privacy?” I turned to face the man standing in the doorway. I didn’t shout, didn’t make a scene. I just said, calmly, “Let’s get a divorce.” Tim formatted the phone right in front of me, his expression so detached it was impossible to read. “Is that better?” he asked. “Still want a divorce?” I nodded, my resolve firm. “Yes.” … “Alright, that’s enough. Don’t be dramatic.” Tim’s brow furrowed with a familiar impatience. “Be good,” he said, his voice softening into a practiced, placating tone. “Once the year-end project is done, I’ll make time to take you to Aspen to see the snow, okay?” When I didn’t respond, a ghost of a smile touched his lips. With his usual careless grace, he tapped a finger against my forehead. “I’m not kidding this time. I mean it.” I almost laughed. I’m not kidding this time. So he knew. He knew he’d been kidding all the other times. The trip to Aspen had been a promise he’d postponed year after year. The movie dates where I’d wait alone at the theater entrance until the film started without him. The times he’d sworn he was on his way to pick me up, only to leave me stranded in a downpour, his car never appearing. Tim always broke his promises to me. And now, he thought dangling this one again was some grand gesture, a reward. “No, thank you,” I said, taking a deep breath and repeating myself with unwavering clarity. “Tim, I want a divorce.” This time, the warmth vanished from his eyes, his patience finally snapping. “Kate, you’re being completely unreasonable.” “Go to Aspen or don’t. I’ve given you a way out.” “Just don’t come crying to me later, saying I didn’t keep my word.” With that, he grabbed his coat from the sofa and turned to leave, not even glancing at the dinner I had so carefully prepared to his tastes. I remained silent. For the first time, I didn’t try to make him stay, not even for another minute. He paused at the door, his footsteps faltering for a fraction of a second as he looked back. I had already sat down at the table, picked up my chopsticks, and begun to eat alone. He slammed the door on his way out, the sound echoing with an unvented rage. My heart didn’t ache anymore. There was nothing left but a barren wasteland. I used to think that a man like Tim, so far above it all, would never be touched by ordinary, domestic things. But the phone had shown me otherwise. It showed him cooking for the girl he loved. How a single word of her praise made the cuts on his hands and the blisters from the hot pan feel like badges of honor. He had even whispered such childish, sweet things: “Cooking for the person you love is true happiness.” “I’m going to cook for Isabelle for the rest of our lives. Keep her so happy and well-fed that she’ll never want to leave me.” Reading those entries was the first time I truly understood what a complete and utter joke I was. The next day, I met my best friend, a lawyer, at a coffee shop and asked her to draft the divorce papers. “What happened between you two? Is it really that serious this time?” she asked, her face etched with surprise. She knew better than anyone how much I loved Tim. In the past, our fights never went beyond a few days of cold silence. “I’m just so tired,” I said, gazing out at the traffic. “And… she’s back.” That one pronoun was enough. My friend understood immediately. Isabelle. Tim’s unforgettable first love. Her name was like a tiny needle embedded in my heart. It drew no blood, but it never stopped pricking me with pain. I had never even met her, yet her ghost had haunted my marriage for five years. Tim insisted on his privacy, yet he and Isabelle had shared a music streaming account. Tim hated exposing his life online, yet his old social media was a shrine to her. The art exhibits he took me to were always by her favorite painters. He claimed shopping with me was a waste of time, yet he had once spent weeks exploring every antique market in the city with her. Two years of dating, three years of marriage, and Tim had never once removed her from his heart. I was nothing more than a placeholder, a comfortable habit to fill the empty space she’d left behind. A second choice. “Okay. I’ll handle the papers. I’ll make sure you don’t get screwed over,” my friend promised, her expression worried. “But Kate… are you absolutely sure?” “I told you from the start, he wasn’t right for you. He never cleared out his heart before letting you in. You’ve been torturing yourself by being with him.” “But you just dove in headfirst and wouldn’t listen to anyone.” I stirred my coffee, my eyes downcast. “Some walls you just have to smash your head against until you’re bloody before you’re willing to turn around.” 2 The sky was a dreary gray, and the rain started without warning. My friend’s husband showed up to get her. “I told you not to come,” she chided gently. “And let my queen get wet? Not a chance,” he grinned. “Hey Kate, you want a ride? We can drop you off.” I smiled and shook my head. “You two go ahead. I’ll just sit for a bit longer.” I used to be so envious of their easy affection, the genuine care that flowed between them. Why was it that Tim and I, also husband and wife, always had an invisible wall between us? Why? The answer was simple. He didn’t love me enough. And I had been lying to myself for so long, pretending it was just his nature, that he didn’t know how to love. When the rain lessened, I stepped outside. Just then, a familiar Audi pulled up to the curb. In the passenger seat was a woman in a cream-colored dress, her hair in soft waves, exuding an air of gentle elegance. Tim got out from the driver’s side and started walking toward the coffee shop, likely just passing through. When he saw me, his expression didn’t change, save for a slight arch of his eyebrow. He probably expected me to greet him, but I just looked down at my phone, checking my rideshare app. Distracted, I missed a step and my ankle twisted beneath me. Tim shot me another indifferent glance, his brow furrowing slightly before he disappeared inside. He didn’t help me. I gritted my teeth against the shooting pain in my ankle and continued to wait by the curb. A few minutes later, Tim emerged with two coffees. “Let’s go,” he said, his tone cool and impatient. “Isn’t this what you wanted? For me to give you a ride?” “…I didn’t.” He didn’t bother arguing, simply pulling me toward the car and pushing me into the back seat. He placed one of the coffees beside me. I didn’t take it. The drive was silent, the atmosphere thick with tension. Suddenly, Isabelle pressed a hand to her forehead. “Tim, I think my blood sugar is dropping. Do you have any candy?” Without missing a beat, Tim reached into the glove compartment and handed her a piece of chocolate. “How many times do I have to remind you? You never learn.” Isabelle took it with a small, sweet smile. “I always forget when I get busy. Good thing I have you.” They fell into easy conversation, talking about old times, mutual friends, and shared memories. Their words were woven with an effortless intimacy. I sat in the back, an invisible, unwelcome audience. The scenery blurred past the window. We passed the city park, where the giant Ferris wheel turned slowly. It was where Tim and I had our first date. Legend has it that couples who kiss at the very top will be happy forever. I had stolen a kiss from him then. He had stared at me for a long moment, stunned. I thought it was one of our few shared, sweet memories. Only later did I learn that Tim’s greatest regret was never having brought Isabelle to ride that same Ferris wheel. Flashes of the past flickered through my weary mind—mostly my one-sided hopes and his dismissive responses. I closed my eyes and let sleep take me. When I woke, we were parked in front of our apartment building. Isabelle was gone. Tim unbuckled his seatbelt and turned to look at my swollen ankle, his brow deeply creased. “Kate,” his voice was low, “do you really have to do this?” I looked up, confused. “If you wanted me to pick you up, you could have just said so. Did you have to resort to such a stupid trick to get my attention?” His tone was steady, but it was threaded with an irritation he couldn’t hide. I didn’t know what he was so annoyed about. Maybe I had interrupted his precious time alone with his first love. “You’re overthinking it, Tim.” “I didn’t ask you for a ride.” He probably thought I was just being stubborn. He scoffed. “Oh? And what were you planning to do? Crawl home?” “I could have taken a cab,” I said, looking him straight in the eye. “I’m not helpless without you, Tim. I clung to you because I loved you. It doesn’t mean I’m useless on my own.” “Useless? Kate, you’re welcome to try leaving. Let’s see if I come crawling back to you.” The man’s eyes darkened again. I had no desire to argue with him. Soon enough, the divorce papers would be on his desk. Then he would know. This time, I wasn’t throwing a tantrum. I was serious. 3 I pushed open the car door, trying to get out on my own. But he was faster. He got out, came around, and swept me into his arms. It wasn’t gentle, but he didn’t let me fall. Inside, he found the first-aid kit and inexpertly sprayed my ankle with a cooling spray, his expression still cold. “Don’t do this again.” I watched him in silence. This was Tim’s way. A slap, then a piece of candy. Hot and cold, leaving me in a state of perpetual confusion. Did he have any genuine feelings for me at all? Worrying about whether someone loves you is a fool’s game, and I had been a fool for five years. It was time to wake up. Done trying to read his mind, I simply said, “Thank you.” He stood by the sofa, unmoving. “Is there anything else?” I asked. Tim’s lips thinned. “Don’t you have anything you want to ask me?” I shook my head calmly. The truth was, I’d already seen Isabelle’s social media. The day before, she had posted a photo from the airport. The caption was a single word: “Waiting.” I had scoured the comments. There was no like or reply from Tim. But I knew he would go. And he did. “I’m tired. I want to sleep,” I said, getting to my feet. “I’ll take the guest room tonight.” He grabbed my wrist. “Kate!” For the first time ever, he actually tried to explain himself. “It’s not what you think with Isabelle. I only picked her up because she just got back to the country and doesn’t know her way around. I was just helping out.” “Mm-hmm,” I said. “You should.” He studied my face, searching for any sign that I was faking my indifference. “Kate, it was over between us a long time ago. We’re just friends now.” I nodded, my disinterest genuine. “I know.” He pulled me into his arms, a rare, unprompted attempt at a kiss. His warmth seeped through my clothes, a sensation I had once craved more than anything. He knew I loved physical affection. He thought a simple kiss would fix everything. But I turned my head, and his lips met the air. Tim froze, clearly stunned by my rejection. His face hardened. “Kate, my patience has its limits. You’d better not push it too far.” We slept in separate rooms that night. He left the master bedroom for me. When I woke the next morning, the house was silent. He was already gone. I felt nothing. I went to the office and handed in my resignation. If I was leaving, I was leaving completely. I had only taken this job to be with him, to have more time together. But at the office, he insisted we keep our marriage a secret, saying it would be “unprofessional.” He deliberately kept his distance. Whenever he needed a subordinate to accompany him on a business trip, he never chose me. During meetings, he treated me like I was invisible. Even when I single-handedly closed a major project, I never received a word of praise from him. His coldness was so pronounced that our colleagues whispered, wondering if he had a personal grudge against me. The HR manager was one of the few people who knew about us. “You’re leaving?” she asked, surprised. “But Mr. Sinclair only said you were being demoted, not let go…” I stared at her. “Demoted?” She nodded, her eyes full of pity. “Your position was filled by a new hire, someone from overseas. Mr. Sinclair arranged it himself.” A chill spread through my chest. My voice trembled as I asked, “Is her name… Isabelle?” “Yes, that’s her.” I had to grip the desk to keep from falling. Even though I was already leaving, the news hit me like an earthquake, a crushing wave of defeat. Tim had never given me any special treatment at this company. I had earned my way to the director position through my own hard work and talent. And just like that, he gave it all away to her.

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On a road trip through the Rockies, my brother Mark and his wife Jess urged their son Leo to feed Flamin’ Hot Cheetos to a grizzly bear. They roared with laughter at the bear’s clumsy reaction to the spice and posted the video online. It went viral overnight, gaining over a million views. Suddenly dreaming of becoming influencers, they actively sought out grizzlies to feed the next day. To my horror, I realized the “docile, bumbling” bear entertaining them was the exact same one from yesterday. Peering through the car window, I saw the grizzly chomping snacks, slobber dripping. Its goofy manner stood out, captivating my brother’s family as they filmed endlessly. After more chips, the bear waved its paws, mouth open and tongue out—absurdly cute, sending them into giggles again. Mark repositioned for a better angle: “Leo, get closer! Big smile!” Jess added, “Give it another. We need more footage from different angles to edit later.” We’d stopped to feed this bear multiple times without issue, but dread tightened in my stomach. I rewatched last night’s video on my phone: This grizzly was unique—not just its mannerisms, but the distinct silver-gray patch on its neck matched perfectly. There was no doubt. It was the same bear. Yesterday, it had been the same routine. The grizzly had stared intently at my brother’s family, eagerly accepting any and all snacks, chewing with a sloppy gusto as drool pooled on the ground. The comment section was flooded. “I’ve never seen a grizzly with such a case of the munchies!” “This bear is such a glutton! So adorable!” Perhaps my stare was too intense. After gulping down another handful of crackers, the bear’s two beady black eyes swiveled in my direction. A jolt of fear shot through me. I quickly rolled up the window, turned away, and pressed my back against the seat, taking a deep breath. Just to be safe, I locked the doors again. Something was off about this grizzly. It was behaving… too harmlessly. It was like a well-trained circus animal performing for a crowd, knowing exactly which expressions and movements would delight its human audience. I turned to our guide. “Cody, how much farther to the next campsite?” Cody glanced back from the driver’s seat. “Not far. Maybe another thirty miles.” “What? That close? You don’t think… these bears will follow us, do you?” My panicked tone seemed to amuse him, and he let out a hearty laugh. “No way. Grizzlies only chase prey for a hundred feet, tops. They give up pretty quick.” Seeing the worry still etched on my face, he added, “Relax. The site is perfectly safe. I’ve taken dozens of groups there. Never had a single problem.” I did a quick search on my phone. Grizzlies can sprint over 30 miles per hour, with a home range that can exceed 600 square miles. Cody was right; they rarely engage in prolonged pursuits of prey. If their target escapes that initial short-range burst, they usually lose interest. But what if this bear was different? We’d seen plenty of other wildlife on this trip. Food didn’t seem to be scarce for the bear population here. So why would this one follow us for a full day and night, over such a distance, just for a few bags of junk food? No, that couldn’t be it. Human food might be an easy meal, but for a seven-foot-tall grizzly, it was barely an appetizer. Plenty of tourists driving through these parks stop to feed the bears. There was no reason for it to single us out. Unless… we weren’t just a source of snacks. Unless we were the prey it was stalking. After my persistent urging, my brother and his family finally, reluctantly, got back in the car. The moment he was inside, Leo kicked my seat. “What’s the rush? It’s your fault! I wasn’t done feeding the bear!” Jess shot me a contemptuous look over the seat. “What’s the matter, Rachel? Jealous that we’re finally getting some attention?” She then turned to my brother with a dramatic pout. “Honey, you know who hates to see you succeed? The people you think are closest to you. They just can’t stand to see you doing better than them.” I opened my mouth to explain, but Mark cut me off. “Rachel, can’t you just be happy for me for once? Have you already forgotten who defended you when that bigger kid from down the street used to bully you?” Of course, I hadn’t forgotten. But his memory was selective. He’d conveniently forgotten that the kid only bullied me because Mark had stolen his new toy in the first place. This wasn’t the time to argue about the past, however. I quickly explained my discovery about the bear. They brushed it off, accusing me of making a big deal out of nothing. Cody, our guide, did lean over to glance at the comparison photos on my phone. “Huh, they do look alike. But there are a lot of grizzlies around here. It’s not crazy to think a couple of them might look similar.” Seeing that no one believed me, I made a direct appeal. “For safety’s sake, I think we should cancel the stargazing campout tonight. I checked the map—there’s a lodge about a hundred and fifty miles from here.” Jess shrieked. “No way! The stargazing campout is the one thing I’ve been looking forward to on this whole trip. We are not canceling it.” Mark scowled at me. “You’re always making things difficult. The professional guide says it’s fine. You think you, a first-timer out here, know better than him?” That’s when Leo completely lost it. He twisted around in his seat and, before I could react, grabbed a fistful of my hair. “We’re going camping! You useless leech! You used our money for this trip, and now you’re trying to ruin it! Why don’t you just die!” The little monster was stronger than he looked. The sudden, sharp pain as he nearly ripped my hair from my scalp was the last straw. A flood of frustration from the entire trip, stimulated by the pain, surged through me. I let out a roar and dug my nails deep into his arm, finally breaking his grip. Leo stared at me, his eyes wide with shock at my bloodshot glare, the pain in his arm registering a second later. He burst into tears. Jess, who had been ignoring the whole thing, instantly wrapped her arms around her son, turning on me. “He’s just a child! How could you, a grown woman, get into a fight with a kid?” she screeched. “What kind of an aunt are you? You have such a cruel heart, attacking an eight-year-old boy like that. Are you even human?” Her voice cracked with faux tears as she continued her tirade. “I never lay a hand on him, not even when he misbehaves, and you just attack him! Honey, look! She practically tore the skin off his arm!” From the passenger seat, my brother turned and glared at me, his eyes burning with rage. If Cody hadn’t been between us, I’m sure he would have hit me. “Rachel, I swear, if Leo is seriously hurt, I’ll make you regret it.” This trip had been my idea, a naive attempt to mend my fractured relationship with my brother and his wife. But it had been nothing but a string of conflicts. The thought of our parents, however, always made me back down, made me swallow my pride. But this time, I decided to respect their choices, and their fate. “If you’re not going to the lodge, then I’ll go by myself.” Mark immediately shut me down. “No. We only have one car. How would that work?” “You could have Cody drop you all at the campsite, then he can take me to the lodge and come back for you.” “That’s not happening either!” Jess snapped. “After the campout, we’re heading to the next scenic spot, which is in the opposite direction of your lodge. And why should we waste all that time just because of you?” Her tone shifted to one of suspicion. “The place you picked is so far from the campsite. What if the car doesn’t come back? What are the three of us supposed to do, stranded in the middle of nowhere?” She glared at me, her voice dripping with venom. “I see what you’re doing. You’re hoping something happens to us, aren’t you? What is wrong with you? I knew it! Inviting us on this trip… it was like a wolf in sheep’s clothing. You had an ulterior motive all along.” In the end, it was three against one. I was forced to go with them to the campsite. But I refused to get out of the car. I locked the doors, clutched my backpack, and stayed put in the driver’s seat. The night sky over the Rockies was, admittedly, breathtaking. Tonight, my brother’s livestream was more popular than ever. A photo of Leo feeding the grizzly spicy chips was trending. They regaled their audience with tales of their “tame” grizzly friend, inspiring a wave of wannabe adventurers. Some viewers were already planning their own trips. “The Rockies are so beautiful! I can’t wait, I’m booking my flight tomorrow to find my own grizzly buddy!” “Wait for me, baby grizzly! Auntie is coming to the Rockies tomorrow with lots of yummy treats!” I frantically typed in the comments, pleading with people not to take the risk, reminding them that grizzlies are omnivores and that attacks in the region were not uncommon. I begged them not to feed wild animals. But my warnings were quickly drowned out by a tide of mockery and praise for my brother’s “bravery.” Exhausted after a long night of performing for their online audience, the three of them finally retired to their tent and fell into a deep sleep. The wilderness fell silent around me. As I gazed up at the star-dusted canvas above, my own eyelids grew heavy. Just then, the car’s headlights flashed twice. Someone had pressed the lock button on the key fob. I sat bolt upright. There were only two keys to this SUV. One was in Mark’s pocket; the other was with Cody, our guide. Neither of them would play a childish prank like this. The only person who would was Leo. I peered through the window toward their tent. It was silent and dark beside the dying embers of the campfire. If it had been Leo, he wouldn’t have been able to resist gloating by now. Click. It was the sound of a door handle being pulled. The door held, but only because it was locked. A terrifying premonition washed over me. I pressed my thumb down hard on the lock button on the armrest, while silently sliding my body down into the footwell of the driver’s seat. Click. Another soft sound. My heart hammered against my ribs. I stabbed the lock button again. Someone had just used the key to unlock the car, and the interior light had flicked on. The person outside tried the driver’s side door again. It didn’t open. Suddenly, a grizzly’s face pressed flat against the window, its beady black eyes scanning the car’s interior. Huddled beneath the steering wheel, shielded only by my backpack, my heart threatened to beat its way out of my chest. I prayed the bear hadn’t seen me. I sent a quick text to both my brother and our guide, Cody. 【BE CAREFUL. BEAR OUTSIDE THE TENT!】 Ding! Doo-doop! Two distinct notification sounds chirped in the dead silence of the night. One came from the direction of the tent. My brother’s phone. The other came from just outside the car, in the opposite direction of the tent. Cody’s. My hand tightened around my phone as the screen went dark. The last flicker of hope died within me. When I’d heard those strange locking and unlocking sounds, I’d suspected Cody might be in trouble. I hadn’t seen him since late evening and had just assumed he was resting in his own tent. Who would have guessed that the most experienced member of our group, the local guide, would be the first to fall? I had clung to a sliver of hope that maybe he’d just dropped the key and a bear had found it. Now, there was no other possibility. The same grizzly was now on the hood of the car. A colossal shadow blotted out the windshield. The bear was perched right there, peering inside. I curled myself into an even tighter ball beneath the steering wheel, not daring to move a muscle. Just then, voices came from the tent. My brother and sister-in-law had spotted the bear outside. But their reaction wasn’t fear. It was excitement. Jess’s distinct, high-pitched voice cut through the night air. “Honey, this is perfect! I can’t believe there’s a grizzly here, too. We’ve got more content!” she squealed. “We can shoot a ‘Bonfire Party with a Grizzly Under the Stars’ video! I bet you anything that if we post this, it’ll blow up.” The thought of her future as a wealthy influencer made her voice tremble with excitement. She urged Leo to open all the snack bags and lure the bear closer to the campfire. Their successful, consequence-free interactions with the bear all day had made them forget a fundamental truth: bears are apex predators. For the sake of a viral video, they were casually discarding their own safety, getting dangerously close. They had no idea what a fatal decision they were making. Catching the scent of the snacks, the bear by the tent first lifted its nose to the air, then began to move clumsily, hesitantly, toward them. The campfire seemed to make it cautious. Its tentative approach only made my brother’s family laugh harder. “It’s okay, big guy, we won’t hurt you,” Jess cooed. Leo even pulled out a piece of beef jerky, holding it out toward the bear. “Here, bear bear! Come get the yummy food!” The commotion over there caught the attention of the bear on my car. It hopped off the hood and began to sneak up behind my brother, who had his back to us, trying to find the perfect angle to film Jess and Leo. They were in extreme danger. I immediately called Mark’s phone, wanting to scream at them to get to the car. He declined the call and kept filming. And then, it happened.

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Jack was insatiable in bed, so I did the only thing I could: I broke his heart and ended it. The next second, a rear-end collision wiped my memory clean. Gone was the memory of Jack’s relentless stamina, of being pushed to my limits night after night. Gone was the vow I’d made to myself: I’d rather date a boring, vanilla guy than ever get back with Jack. Later, when friends and family came to visit me in the hospital, Jack was among them. The moment he walked into the room, I gripped my best friend’s arm, my heart hammering against my ribs. “Oh, crap,” I whispered. “That one’s definitely my type.” 1 When I woke up in the hospital, my mind was a perfect, pristine blank. It took ten minutes of questioning the woman at my bedside—who claimed to be my best friend—to learn that a car accident had landed me here. She pointed at her own chest, her expression a mask of disbelief. “It’s me, Anna! Your best friend! You seriously don’t remember me?” I shook my head. I didn’t even remember my own name, let alone hers. The doctor assured us my health was fine and suggested Anna fill me in on my past. He said the memories might just click back into place one day. Anna, ever the woman of action, immediately pulled a chair up to my bed. “Okay, so: You’re Lillian Hayes. Your parents are scientists—super busy, as you’ve probably guessed, since they haven’t rushed here yet. “We’ve been best friends since high school. Oh, and you have a boyfriend. His name is Jack Vance. I’ve already called him.” Jack Vance. I rolled the name over in my mind, but it sparked nothing. Not a single flicker of recognition. By the time night fell, this Jack Anna had told me about still hadn’t shown up. “What the hell is Jack’s deal?” Anna grumbled, pacing the small room. “You were in a car crash! I mean, yeah, it wasn’t life-threatening, but he’s your boyfriend. He should at least come see you, right?” She threw her hands up. “He always acted so completely obsessed with you before!” Her words meant nothing to me. With no memories, I had no basis for judgment. My phone had been totaled in the wreck, so I couldn’t even try to contact him myself. For the next few days, Anna was my rock, my sole caretaker at the hospital. Through her stories, I started piecing together a mosaic of my past self. I learned that Jack and I had been together for three years, and our relationship had always been passionate. “You have no idea, Lily,” she said, her eyes wide. “The guy was like a human octopus, completely touch-starved. He was always all over you. All our friends were sick of your PDA. “I remember this one time you hid out at my place for days just to get a break, and when Jack finally found you, his eyes were bloodshot…” Seeing my spirits dip, Anna quickly tried to reassure me. “Hey, don’t worry. I’m sure he’s just tied up with something important. I’ll give him another call and see what’s up.” But I’d overheard her call to him yesterday. I had heard Jack’s voice, cold and sharp through the speaker. “Lillian and I are over. Her life has nothing to do with me anymore. Please tell her to stop trying to contact me.” Anna was probably just trying to protect my feelings by not telling me. 2 I had no idea why Jack and I would have broken up. Even my closest friend didn’t seem to know. But hey, there are plenty of fish in the sea. I decided not to dwell on it. The day before I was discharged, a group of friends and family arranged to visit. As a crowd of unfamiliar faces drifted toward my bed, all I could do was offer a weak smile and a nod. I didn’t recognize a single one of them. Then, a man appeared at the back of the group, a man whose good looks weren’t just about vibe or style. He was the kind of handsome that would stop you in your tracks, even in a plain white shirt. It was a raw, undeniable beauty that pulled your gaze and held it captive. I dug my nails into Anna’s arm. “I’m screwed,” I breathed. “I really, really like that one.” Anna shot me a look that was a complicated mix of pity and exasperation. “Well, that proves it. You’ve definitely lost your memory.” I blinked, confused. “What do you mean?” She sighed, a heavy, world-weary sound. “That’s Jack.” My world crumbled. Sure, there were plenty of men out there, but my heart had just zeroed in on him and him alone. Jack was here, but he didn’t approach me, didn’t say a single word. He hung back, a silent, brooding statue. My frustration simmered. When he stepped out to take a call, I slipped out of bed and followed him. From down the hallway, I could faintly hear him talking about something taking too long, mentioning medication as a solution… I waited until he hung up, then rushed over, forcing a bright smile. “Hi! Anna told me you’re my boyfriend?” Jack’s gaze locked onto mine, his eyes cold. “Wrong,” he corrected flatly. “Ex-boyfriend.” “Haha.” The laugh was dry and brittle in my throat. “No way. If you were my ex, why would you even be here at the hospital?” At that, a flicker of pure derision crossed his face. “What kind of game are you playing now, Lily?” “Huh?” What was he talking about? “You must have heard,” I said, my voice softer. “I don’t have any of my old memories.” I took a small step closer. “But I feel like… if I had a boyfriend who looked like you, I probably wouldn’t break up with him unless it was for a really good reason.” I mumbled the last part, unsure if he even heard me. Gaining a bit of courage, I reached for his hand. “So… can we get back together?” The next second, he jerked his hand away as if my touch had burned him. He let out a short, harsh laugh. “Lillian, what kind of man do you take me for?” He turned to leave. I scrambled to block his path. “Then at least tell me why we broke up!” My question seemed to ignite something in him. He looked even angrier, his jaw clenching so tight I could see the muscles flex. For a long moment, he just glared, a storm brewing in his eyes, but not a single word escaped his lips. 3 A terrible thought began to form in my mind. Jack had refused to see me after the accident. He only showed up, putting on this show of concern, after he heard I had amnesia. My voice was tight with suspicion. “It was because I found out you were cheating, wasn’t it? That’s why I broke up with you.” Jack froze for a second, then laughed. It wasn’t a sound of amusement; it was the sound of something breaking. He ground out the words through clenched teeth. “I wish it were that simple.” “What?” Could it be… that I was the one who cheated? Looking at the raw, barely-contained fury on his face, the flicker of hatred in his eyes, a wave of guilt washed over me. “Uh… sorry. My mistake. Never mind.” I scurried back to my room. The next day, Anna helped me check out of the hospital. In the car, she finally spoke, her voice hesitant. “So, uh… Jack called me last night. He said you should come by and pick up your things when you have time.” So he was really eager to cut all ties. It seemed more and more likely that I was the one at fault. I had to ask. “Anna, was I getting close to any other guys recently? Besides Jack?” Anna thought for a moment, then her face lit up with recognition. “Well, there was your senior from college, Leo.” I didn’t dare ask any more questions. 4 That evening, when I went to Jack’s apartment to pack my things, he was sitting on the sofa, a dark cloud hanging over him. But even with that grim expression, his handsome face was still enough to make my head spin. Does anyone understand this specific kind of despair? Finally finding your perfect type, only to wake up and discover he’s already your ex-boyfriend? I couldn’t hold it in anymore. I threw myself at him, wrapping my arms around his neck and bursting into tears. “I’m so sorry! I was wrong!” I sobbed into his shoulder. “Jack, please forgive me, okay? I’ll never do it again! “I swear, no other man out there is half as good as you. Please, let’s not be broken up, okay?” I lifted my tear-streaked face to look at him. His expression was a mask of strained control. He stared into my eyes for a long, searching moment, as if trying to decipher if my words were real or just another performance. I sniffled pathetically, tightening my arms around him. “Jack, just give me one more chance, please? I promise, I’ll only love you from now on.” But before he could answer, the front door, which had been left ajar, swung open. A beautiful woman in a white dress stood in the doorway. “Jack,” she said, her voice soft. My eyes shot to Jack, and I caught the flash of panic in his gaze. My heart plummeted into an icy abyss. It looked like Jack had already moved on. So what did that make me? A desperate, pathetic fool. Shame washed over me in a hot wave, and I scrambled off his lap. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know…” My voice was a choked whisper. “I’m so sorry to bother you. I won’t come back again.” With that, I covered my face and fled. It wasn’t until I was downstairs that I remembered what I’d come for. My stuff was still up there. I glanced up at his window. Two silhouettes stood close together. As I watched, their shadows drew closer, finally melting into one. The sight was a dagger to my eyes. I wrenched my gaze away. Forget the stuff. Did I really want to humiliate myself any further? I climbed back into Anna’s car, sobbing. Seeing me empty-handed and my eyes swollen shut, Anna assumed Jack had been cruel to me. She started rolling up her sleeves, ready for battle. “That’s it, he’s gone too far! You’re broken up, does he really need to be such a jerk about it?” I grabbed her arm. “No, it’s not like that. He didn’t do anything to me.” “Then what is it? Just tell me!” Anna’s patience was wearing thin. I wiped my face, resigned to the truth. “It’s me,” I said quietly. “I think I’m still in love with him. Seeing him with his new girlfriend… it just really hurt.” Anna’s jaw dropped. “What? You just broke up and he already has a replacement? Are you sure he wasn’t cheating on you the whole time?” “That’s what I thought at first,” I mumbled. “But with my memory gone, I have no way of knowing the real reason we broke up.” All I knew was that my mind, and my heart, were a complete mess. 5 Seeing me mope around for days, Anna dragged me to a bar to lift my spirits. I ordered a round of shots, ready to drink myself into oblivion, but Anna snatched the glass from my hand. “Not so fast,” she said with a mysterious grin. “Someone else is coming.” The person she was talking about was a mild-mannered guy with glasses. I stared at him for a long moment, but his face drew a complete blank. Anna slapped her forehead. “God, my brain! I keep forgetting about the amnesia.” She gestured to him. “Lily, this is Leo, your senior from college. He helped us out a ton back in the day.” I quickly stood up to greet him. “Leo, I’m so sorry, I really don’t remember.” Leo took my hand, his smile warm and reassuring. “I heard about your accident. Don’t worry about it, of course I understand.” But not long after we sat down, I started to notice Leo’s gaze lingering on me a little too often. A knot of anxiety tightened in my stomach. Oh God, did I already have something going on with him? But even with amnesia, I was still me. And looking at Leo, I felt… nothing. Absolutely nothing. Surely the old me wouldn’t have been that clueless, right? As my mind spiraled, Anna nudged me with her elbow. “Well, look who it is.” I followed her gaze. Jack and a group of his friends were walking into the bar. The woman in the white dress was with him. My mood instantly soured. Anna, ever the loyal best friend, read my mind. Her expression shifted to one of disgust. “Wow, he’s not even trying to hide it anymore. What a pig.” She leaned in, her eyes glinting with mischief. “Hey, bestie. You feel like getting a little revenge? Rattle his cage a bit?” I slumped onto the table, my head in my arms. “How? He obviously doesn’t care about me anymore.” “You don’t know that until you try.” A wicked smile spread across her face. She grabbed my hand and Leo’s and pulled us toward the dance floor. Leo seemed to understand her plan perfectly, staying close to me, his body a warm shield against the crowd. I tried to escape a few times, but Anna held me firm. “You wanted to know if he still has feelings for you, right?” she whispered in my ear. “If he does, seeing you this close to another guy will drive him insane.” So I stayed. I forced myself to dance, feeling awkward and exposed, but Jack’s group never once glanced in our direction. A wave of defeat washed over me. In that moment, I knew. He really, truly didn’t care anymore. The spark of hope I’d been clinging to died out. I excused myself to go to the restroom and left the dance floor. 6 I splashed cold water on my face, the shock of it clearing my head slightly. As I stared at my reflection, a bitter laugh escaped my lips. I was such an idiot. I decided then and there: I was done with Jack Vance. But as I walked out of the restroom, a hand shot out, grabbing my arm and shoving me into a dark corner by the wall. I opened my mouth to scream, but a familiar voice cut through the air from above me. “Stay away from Leo.” I looked up. Jack. His face was a thundercloud, his eyes blazing with a barely suppressed rage. What was his problem? One minute he’s ignoring me, the next he’s cornering me and giving me warnings? Was he afraid his new girlfriend would see and get jealous? A surge of anger propelled my words. “Why should I? Leo is a perfect gentleman. He’s kind and considerate. I like him. What business is it of yours?” Jack’s gaze lingered on my face for a moment before he let me go. He pulled out his phone, swiped a few times, and then held the screen up for me to see. “Leo. Kicked out of college for his ‘chaotic private life.’ Juggled multiple girls at once. The one who exposed him was pregnant with his child, and he bullied her into dropping out.” He lowered the phone. “This stuff isn’t just online. You could ask any of our old classmates, and they’d tell you the same thing. You wouldn’t be singing his praises if you knew the truth.” How could this be? The articles on his screen confirmed everything he said. I bit my lip, shame and humiliation burning my cheeks. But I didn’t want to lose. I wanted to win. “And what about you?” I shot back. “Ditching your new girlfriend to come lecture your ex? How does that make you any different from him?” Jack looked at me as if I were a complete stranger. He took a half-step back. “Lillian,” he said, his voice laced with a new kind of coldness. “I shouldn’t have bothered.” My eyes stung with unshed tears, but my voice remained hard. “Who asked you to? Keep your pity for yourself. Since you’ve chosen someone else, you should be treating her right, not breaking her heart.” His face was a mask of disappointment. “So, you’re still going to be with him?” “Whether I am or not,” I declared, “has nothing to do with you.” 7 “Jack.” As the tension between us crackled in the air, the woman from that night appeared. She walked right up to Jack and gently offered him a tissue. “You’ve got some sweat on your temple. Here, wipe it off.” Jack snapped back to reality and took the tissue. Standing together, they looked so perfectly matched. A handsome couple. Looking closer, they even resembled each other a bit. I lowered my head. No wonder he chose her. Her emotional intelligence alone was something I could probably never hope to achieve. Jack didn’t look at me again. He put his arm around the woman and started to lead her away. But then, she stopped and turned to walk toward me. In the few seconds it took for her to cross the distance, my mind raced through half a dozen dramatic confrontation scenarios. I’d heard about people like this—they seem nice on the surface, but they’re masters of passive aggression. Fearing I was no match for her, I clenched my fists, ready to bolt. But her first words were, “I think we’ve met a few times before, but you don’t seem to recognize me?” So they did know each other before. He worked fast. Jack was a real piece of work. “Sorry,” I said, my tone dripping with sarcasm. “I have face blindness. I don’t really remember people I haven’t seen much.” The woman simply nodded. “My name is Isabelle,” she said politely. “I hope you’ll remember me next time we meet.” That was it. I broke. How could she be so… so damn graceful? I was supposed to be her rival! I had lost. Utterly and completely. I ran. I fled from the bar like a coward. “Waaahhh…” I clung to Anna, crying so hard I could barely breathe. She hovered over me, completely helpless. “Lily, you have to tell me what’s wrong! How am I supposed to comfort you if I don’t know what happened?” I couldn’t speak. I just wailed. There was no way I was telling her about my total and complete humiliation. Anna, out of ideas, suggested that Leo take me home and try to console me. At the mention of his name, something clicked. I immediately refused. I wiped my tears and forced a cheerful tone. “Suddenly, I feel much better!” Leo, to his credit, didn’t press the issue. He just smiled his gentle smile. “Alright then. You two be careful. Call me when you get home.”

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