Category: English

I’m a cocktail waitress in a seedy bar, squeezed into a bunny costume that was more humiliation than fabric. In the VIP booth, the tycoon’s son, Sean, was arguing with his one true love, a black card pinched between his fingers. “Five million on this card. Are you sure you don’t want it?” The girl, dressed in a janitor’s uniform, sneered at him from behind her mop. “My money is clean! You think being rich makes you special? Go on, ask anyone. Who would ever love a person like you?” Furious, Sean grabbed me. “The card is yours. Do you dare to love me?” I took the card. “I dare.” Later, the girl had regrets. And Sean? He came back to me. “Seraphina is bothered by our past,” he’d said. “Maybe you should date someone else for a while.” “Fine,” I’d replied. … The sky was already dark when I left the hospital after visiting my grandmother. I hopped on my e-scooter and raced toward the bar where I worked. Halfway there, the rain started pouring. For a split second, I was distracted, and my wheels skidded on the slick pavement. Of course, I had to crash into a Maybach. A rear-end collision in the rain. I was completely at fault. A door opened and a man stepped out, unfurling a black umbrella. He tilted it kindly in my direction. As he got closer, I saw he was around my age, but with a refined, almost delicate beauty. Fair skin, a high-bridged nose, and sharp, elegant eyes that tilted up at the corners. His suit, though brandless, was impeccably tailored, making him look even more coolly aristocratic in the rain. I moved my aching arm and scrambled to my feet, apologizing profusely. “I’m so sorry, the rain was too heavy, my scooter slipped, I’m really so sorry…” A pathetic little whimper escaped my lips, brimming with self-pity. I held up my scraped arm, rubbing at my eyes. If I was going to play the victim card, now was the time. I was a student by day and a worker by night. Medical bills, tuition, living expenses—I was short on everything. There was no way I could afford to fix his car. I’d heard stories of rich car owners magnanimously forgiving broke commoners. A desperate prayer formed in my mind: Please let him be a kind, wealthy man who doesn’t care about the money. A familiar female voice cut through the rain, sharp with impatience. “Sean, hurry up! Don’t make me late for work!” Work? A high-society heiress who takes a Maybach to her part-time job? A pale, oval face appeared in the car window. It was Seraphina, the scholarship student from the class next to mine. Sean pushed the umbrella into my hand and helped me right my scooter. He sighed, a note of resignation in his voice. “Forget it. Just go. Be careful on the road.” I thanked him profusely, terrified he would change his mind, and sped off into the rain. As I left, I heard Seraphina complain, “What a hassle. I’m never riding in your car again.” I recognized him then. Sean. The old-money heir from the campus forums. He was the sole heir to the Sterling Corporation, and he was hopelessly in love with the scholarship student, Seraphina. The whole school knew he was pursuing her. He’d showered her with luxury gifts and arranged internships, all of which she had publicly refused. The last time, he’d staged a massive drone light show confession outside the women’s dorms. Seraphina had finally appeared, looking distressed, begging him to “stop putting her on the spot,” insisting she didn’t want his “charity” and that she wanted to “make her own way in life.” I thought their tragic love story had finally ended, but here he was, still trying. I suppose it made sense. Everyone praised Seraphina for her integrity and backbone. I’d even heard girls getting lectured by their boyfriends when they asked for birthday presents. “Look at Seraphina. She never spends a man’s money.” In the bar’s staff room, I shivered as I changed into the bunny costume. The skirt was scandalously short, barely covering anything. I pulled on two pairs of thick tights and pinned the neckline higher. My manager knew my situation. “You get a 15% commission on drinks,” she’d told me. “As long as the customers don’t get out of hand, don’t turn your nose up at the money.” I nodded. A week’s pay as a bunny girl could cover several more days of my grandmother’s hospital stay. The door at the end of the hall opened. I froze. Seraphina? She was wearing an oversized janitor’s uniform, her hair pulled back in a ponytail, struggling with a heavy water bucket. Our eyes met. A flash of surprise crossed her face, quickly replaced by a look of derision. “You work here too?” “Yeah. You? Janitor?” “The hourly wage is higher here,” she said, straightening her back. “And it’s clean.” I glanced at her washed-out sneakers and almost laughed. What was the difference between being a janitor here and anywhere else? You were still scrubbing floors. Or was she implying that, compared to my job, hers was infinitely cleaner? We weren’t close, so we didn’t speak further. I carried a tray of drinks into a private room to make a sale. The room was thick with smoke. Sean and his circle of rich friends were lounging on the sofas. A shattered bottle of Ace of Spades lay on the floor, its contents pooling on the carpet. Seraphina was called in to clean it up. “Isn’t that the girl Sean’s after?” someone whispered. The guy next to her quickly took the mop. “Here, let me get that for you.” Seraphina’s head snapped up, her eyes like ice. “No need! You break a bottle to force me to serve you, and now you’re playing the nice guy?” The room fell silent. Sean’s face darkened. “What’s that supposed to mean?” “It means,” Seraphina said, standing up straight, “that I earn my money honestly. Not like some people!” “Seraphina!” Sean cut her off, pulling a black card from his wallet. “Just listen to me. Think of it as a sponsorship. You don’t have to work in a place like this.” I stood to the side, a silent observer. For people like us, a “place like this” was the best opportunity we could get. Seraphina was trembling with rage. “Sean!” she shrieked. “I’m not for sale!” Every eye in the room swiveled to me. Me, in my bunny costume with its barely-there skirt. Someone coughed awkwardly. “Hey, don’t mind her. She didn’t mean it like that.” I bit the inside of my cheek so hard I tasted blood. My nails dug into my palms. I was afraid if I let go, I would lunge at her and pull her hair. Who the hell was she to judge me? She preached about making her own way, yet she was secretly benefiting from the extra scholarship money Sean had arranged for her. And from her moral high ground, she had the audacity to mock those of us who were truly struggling in the mud. “Last time I’m asking. Five million on this card,” Sean said, slapping the black card on the coffee table. “Are you sure you don’t want it?” Seraphina sneered. “I earn my money honestly! You think being rich makes you special? Go on, ask anyone. Who would ever love a person like you?” The room went quiet again. A humorless laugh escaped Sean’s lips. He grabbed my wrist. “What about you? The card is yours. Do you dare to love me?” The black card gleamed under the dim lights. I thought of the IV needle buried in my grandmother’s wrist. I thought of the mountain of tuition and fees that were about to crush me. Dignity? That was a luxury only the rich could afford. “I dare,” I said without hesitation, taking the card from his hand. Seraphina’s expression froze. She stared at me, her gaze dropping to Sean’s hand, which was now wrapped possessively around my waist. “You’re pathetic,” she spat at me. Then, for Sean’s benefit, she added, “You’ll regret this.” She stalked out, mop in hand, her head held high. Sean’s friends, however, burst into cheers. “Out with the old, in with the new!” “It’s about time you moved on, man! What’s the point of chasing someone who just throws it back in your face?” “She’s addicted to playing the victim! Turning down good money just to suffer.” “Yeah, this one is much sweeter!” Yes, I was pathetic. So pathetic that I could see the truth she refused to acknowledge. The special “underprivileged student” spot that magically appeared in last semester’s international competition. The extra TA position in the science lab that the professor had hand-picked her for. I wanted those unseen advantages and privileges, too. She wanted to be a saint. Fine. I hope she enjoys her sainthood. After that night, I became Sean’s official girlfriend. He told me to spend the five million on the card as I pleased, and to let him know if I needed more. I used his card to pay for my grandmother’s hospital stay, pre-loading her account with two million. It would be more than enough. The moment the transaction notification popped up on my phone, for the first time, I felt the frantic, spinning top of my life begin to slow down. Before this, every day had been a struggle. Two meals a day: a bun and an egg for breakfast, rice and one vegetable dish for lunch. The egg was my only protein. The vegetables were the cheapest on offer at the cafeteria. One day, I was in line at the cafeteria, deciding to splurge on a meat dish. A short burst of laughter erupted behind me. It was Seraphina and her friends, whispering to each other. Their eyes were fixed on the designer cashmere scarf Sean had given me. It was, undoubtedly, evidence of my gold-digging ways. When I went to the logistics office to quit my campus jobs, the manager gave me a pointed look. “A young girl like you should focus on being practical.” At the elevator for my weekend English class, I ran into the top student from my department. “You’re in the summer intensive course, too?” The moment I nodded, I heard whispers from behind me. “She’s just buying her way in with her boyfriend’s money.” They were right. But I was going to use this shortcut to build my own path. With money in my pocket, my hostility toward the world began to soften. Of course, every time I used the card, Sean got a notification on his phone. One night, he called me to pick him up from a bar. As I approached the room, I heard his friends talking. “Not bad, Sean. This new one actually knows how to spend money. A lot better than the last one!” Sean jabbed him in the ribs with his elbow. “Careful what you wish for,” another friend slurred, drunk. “You just got rid of one extreme. Don’t end up with a money-sucking vampire on the other end.” Sean slipped his phone back into his pocket. He’d been looking at the transaction alerts. They were all from the hospital, the cafeteria, tutoring centers. A low chuckle rumbled in his throat. “She’s spending it well,” he said, downing his drink in one gulp. “Better than letting it sit in my account like a savings passbook.” When I pushed the door open, they all straightened up, respectfully calling me “sister-in-law.” The title was absurd. At best, I was his arm candy, a soulless gift-receiving machine. Sean seemed addicted to giving me things. The latest Chanel collection, priceless pearl earrings, a crocodile Birkin bag, entire sets of luxury skincare. “Dress the part, and people will listen to what you have to say,” he told me. He had said the same thing to Seraphina once. She had thrown the coat he’d given her back at him, muttering that it was “too flashy.” Then she’d worn her faded, old jacket to a job interview and came back complaining that they hadn’t even bothered to look at her resume because she looked too young. My intimacy with Sean was limited to holding hands and an arm around my waist. It was as if he just needed someone by his side who knew how to spend money, to complete the picture. And I just happened to desperately need money. One weekend, while we were out shopping, we ran into Seraphina at the mall. She saw the shopping bags hooked on my arm. This time, there was no disdain in her eyes. Only envy. Sean awkwardly let go of my hand, as if he wanted to explain something, but the hatred in her eyes silenced him. Three days later, I heard Seraphina had applied for the student exchange program. Sean was at a street food stall with me when he got the call from his advisor. He’d been patiently peeling crayfish for me. For a while, the great heir to the Sterling Corporation had been happily slumming it with me at night markets and food stalls. The red oil from the crayfish had splattered on his white shirt cuff, and I felt a pang of guilt. After he hung up, he didn’t say anything. He just kept peeling the crayfish and piling them on my plate. Everything seemed normal. But in the middle of the night, his friend called me. “Sean’s at his downtown condo. He’s locked himself in. We’re a little worried. Can you go check on him?” The moment I opened the door, the thick stench of alcohol hit me. The floor-to-ceiling windows were wide open, the curtains whipping violently in the night wind. Sean was curled up on the rug. He heard me and looked up. His eyes were alarmingly red. His usually straight back was slumped, as if all the strength had been drained from him. “She’s gone,” he said, his voice so hoarse it made my own throat ache. “I used to tell her she was a fool for working so hard to save money. But yesterday… she transferred me some money. She said… she said it was a travel fund we’d saved up together when we were both working part-time.” He suddenly laughed, a sound mixed with a sob. “Why is she so stubborn? I wish she were more like you.” But I knew the truth. If she were like me, Sean wouldn’t love her. I didn’t know how to comfort him. I cleaned up the apartment and helped him to bed. As I was about to leave, he grabbed my hand. “You’re leaving, too?” “You said you would love me.” I hadn’t realized he remembered what I’d said in the VIP room that night. In the moment I hesitated, he pulled me into his arms, and I fell onto the bed. When he kissed me, even though I had prepared myself to be a sugar baby, I was still scared. I turned my head, and the kiss landed on my cheek. His fingers traced the side of my face, his voice a soft, patient coaxing. “Don’t hide from me, Ava. You’re mine.” The night dissolved into a blur. After that, physical intimacy became a constant between us, a feverish habit he couldn’t get enough of. One day, he insisted I dress up as a bunny girl for him. I snuggled against his shoulder, a rare moment of coquettishness. “Not today. Next time.” He pinched my waist, always leaving his marks on me, fingerprints and bruises from his kisses. “It’s always ‘next time,’ isn’t it?” He kissed my cheek. “My timid little bunny.” Later, as we were both scrolling through our phones, I saw in the alumni group chat that Seraphina was coming back to the country. I’m sure he saw it, too. His phone rang. “Sean, Seraphina’s back. She’s throwing a welcome home party. Are you coming?” He shot me a guilty look and snapped into the phone, “Don’t bother me!” I pretended not to care. “You should go if you want to.” I don’t know if it was my timing, or if my feigned magnanimity had struck a nerve. The smile vanished from his lips. I wrapped the sheet around myself and reached for my clothes on the floor. “I’m heading back to campus.” “Okay,” he said distractedly. I couldn’t focus in the library. I put on my headphones and logged into a burner account on a game. And then I heard it. His friend’s voice, clear as day through the game’s voice chat. “So, if Seraphina is willing to give you a shot, what about Ava?” Sean’s voice was cool and distant. “What about her?” “I mean, she’s been your girlfriend for two years.” I held my breath. In the game, my character had already been killed. He sighed. “We’ll break up. I can’t be with two people at once, can I? Besides, I’ve been more than generous with her these past two years.” His friend agreed. “True. It’s a shame, though. We’ve all gotten used to having Ava around.” “That’s enough. Not a word about this in front of Seraphina.” The one who isn’t loved is always the third wheel. I understood. I quit the game. Suddenly, the last two years with Sean felt completely meaningless. But tears still fell onto my phone screen. My fingers trembled as I typed out the words. It was better to make a graceful exit now than to wait for him to deliver the sentence. “Sean, Seraphina’s back. Let’s break up. I hope you get everything you’ve ever wanted.” I waited a long time. The “typing…” bubble appeared and disappeared. Sean hated texting. He always said, “Why waste time texting when you can clear things up with a two-minute phone call?” A “ding” signaled a new message. “Okay. If you ever need anything, just ask.” When things were good, I had dared to hope he might love me. Now that we were breaking up, I finally understood my place. I was just the opportunistic clown who had taken advantage of a situation. “Seraphina has always had a misunderstanding about you. I hope you two can avoid each other in the future.” I understood that message, too. He was afraid I would use some cheap trick to hurt his precious white moonlight. He was warning me. The past two years had given me the illusion that we were equals. Now that we were breaking up, I realized that he had always had the right to look down on me. I froze, my hand gripping the phone. “Okay. Understood,” I typed back. I moved out of the dorm immediately and started at the internship I had already arranged. That night, there was a welcome dinner for the new interns. Of all places, it was at the same bar where I used to work. The moment I walked in, I saw Seraphina on Sean’s arm. I quickly ducked into the next room. As I was about to leave, someone stopped me. I recognized him. A VIP at the bar named Marcus. I had met him once with Sean. I remembered they didn’t seem to like each other. His eyes raked over me. “Sean’s girlfriend?” I frowned. “Sorry, wrong room.” He smirked, a lecherous look in his eyes, and tilted my chin up with his fingers.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “393817”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

For three years, my wife, Victoria, was a fixture in the headlines. This time, the story was: “Z-LIST ACTOR’S SHAMELESS THEATER FLING WITH MARRIED HEIRESS. HE KNEW.” A reporter ambushed her. “Doesn’t your husband get angry?” She answered with regal disdain. “He’s just the man who married into my money. He’s hardly fit to be seen.” Later, she would kneel in the snow, begging me to come back. “Leo, forgive me! Don’t you love me?” I threw her own words back at her. “I’m just a kept man who isn’t fit to be seen. How could I ever be worthy?” 1 【Riverton Cinema, 10 PM tonight.】 It was a rare weekend off, but one text from Evan, and I was clocking in for my other job. Evan had been coasting on Victoria’s money in the entertainment industry for three years. With mediocre talent and even worse luck, he was firmly cemented as a Z-list actor. But that didn’t matter. What mattered was that Victoria, as part of my marital duties, had forced me to be his assistant. And he, in turn, paid my salary. He was notorious for calling me at all hours. Last New Year’s Eve, on one of the few nights Victoria was actually home, Evan called to demand I bring him cold medicine. Snow was falling in a dizzying white curtain as I delivered both the pills and myself to his doorstep. I was happy. And a little desolate. At the cinema, a cluster of young students were whispering excitedly. “I think I just saw Evan!” “My source says he booked a whole VIP theater for his married rich-lady girlfriend.” “The whole theater? Can you imagine? I bet it gets wild in there.” … I felt the corner of my mouth twitch. These kids were bold. They might actually try to sneak in and walk right into the middle of Victoria and Evan’s… tender moment. In Victoria’s eyes, Evan was a pure, innocent angel with a handsome face and a great body. She wouldn’t mind him getting photographed or dragged through the mud online; she’d just blame me for not doing my job properly. And a furious Evan would dock my pay. So, I slipped past the students and had a word with the theater staff. Leveraging Victoria’s name, I had a few extra security guards posted at the entrance. Once I was sure the fortress was secure, I went inside. The screen was playing a newly released blockbuster, a film Victoria had poured money into just to get Evan a bit part as some eye candy. Yes, eye candy. For all his masculine posturing, the best a pretty boy like him could do with a sugar mama was be a living ornament. In the fifth row, the prime viewing spot, Victoria was tipping Evan’s chin up, giving him a feather-light kiss. I had to admit, Victoria was stunning. Even next to a fresh-faced actor like Evan, her powerful aura was undeniable. I casually snapped a photo. It was, in a way, a beautiful picture. A notification popped up on my phone. It was Evan. 【Are you here yet?】 It seemed he was getting anxious to officially marry into the family fortune. I didn’t reply, continuing my surveillance. Annoyed that his attention was on his phone, Victoria grabbed his chin and pulled him into a more heated kiss. I rolled my eyes. Some things you just can’t unsee. Did he really think that forcing me to watch a live stream of him seducing my wife would make me so heartbroken I’d demand a divorce? The truth was, Victoria was the one who had forced me into this marriage, grinding my dignity into the dust. She wasn’t done torturing me yet. She wouldn’t let me go that easily. Suddenly, the whole charade felt pointless. I replied to Evan: 【Mr. Hayes, my apologies, I’m taking a sick day. Lucy will be there shortly.】 Lucy was Evan’s other assistant, a young girl who looked up to me. Message sent. I turned off my phone, refusing to listen to his inevitable tantrum. Leaving the theater, I walked along the riverbank, hoisting myself up onto the railing to feel the wind on my face. I used to love Victoria. She was a strong, brilliant, formidable woman. For her, it was love at first sight, and she pursued me with a fiery passion that defied convention. Weighed down by my own baggage, I rejected her time and again, but she was relentless. What finally broke through my defenses was the day I came to work with a raging fever, and she forced water and medicine past my lips with her own hands. It’s a shame her devotion had such a short shelf life. But maybe that was for the best. 2 The next morning, my phone’s ringing jolted me awake. It was Lucy. “Leo! It’s all over the internet! There’s a video of Evan with Victoria… they’re saying he’s a homewrecker! The story is blowing up, and I don’t know how to get it off the trending list… But he totally deserves it! God, Leo, you’re incredible. I don’t know how you work for him and stay so calm watching him pull all this crap.” Lucy, bless her righteous young heart, was vehemently cursing out her own boss. I was touched. “Don’t worry, Lucy. I’ll handle it.” After hanging up, I clicked the link she’d sent me. The video was two minutes long, starting with the light kiss I’d witnessed and escalating from there. In the final shot, Victoria’s hand was resting on Evan’s lower back. The implication was obvious. The comments section was brutal. 【The only thing they didn’t do was take their clothes off. And he still pretends to be so innocent, saying his mom won’t let him show his abs. LMAO.】 【CANCEL HIM!】 【Get Evan Hayes out of showbiz!】 … The article also included the picture of me sitting on the riverbank railing, under a salacious headline: “Z-LIST ACTOR’S SHAMELESS THEATER FLING WITH MARRIED HEIRESS. A KNOWING HOMWRECKER, PUSHING THE HUSBAND TO THE BRINK.” Someone had been following me? That was… unsettling. I scrolled through the comments. The top ones were a mix of people trashing Evan and Victoria, and others doing deep dives into Victoria’s family background and Evan’s less-than-honorable climb up the ladder. Me, the “husband on the brink,” was barely mentioned. This leak felt like it was about more than just Evan. Was it one of Victoria’s business rivals? After a moment’s hesitation, I forwarded the article and my suspicions to Victoria. She didn’t reply. She probably didn’t care. I wasn’t in a hurry either. I started drafting a crisis PR statement for Evan. As I was working, a text from Evan himself came through, dripping with provocation: 【Leo, I checked the cinema’s security footage. I saw you there. Jealous watching Victoria all over me? Ha. I thought you were clueless, but it turns out you’re just a coward who can take it. She doesn’t love you. Do yourself a favor, take off the horns, and divorce her!】 My patience, already thin, snapped. I forwarded him the link to the viral article. 【Evan, from where I was sitting, I couldn’t have possibly shot a video that clear.】 3 After a quick shower, I video-called Lucy. We worked until noon before things were finally under control. Throughout the morning, Evan called me repeatedly. I could perfectly picture his pathetic, frantic face. I used the excuse of being busy to ignore his tirades. He didn’t need my comfort. After double-checking the statement we’d issued, I went back to the original viral post, studying it again. Finally, I decided to contact the blogger who broke the story to ask about the video’s source. My private message went unanswered, like a stone dropped into the sea. Whatever. Time for a break. I was coming down with a cold. I quickly boiled some dumplings, ate them, and collapsed into bed to catch up on sleep. I’m a light sleeper. The roar of Victoria’s sports car pulling up to the house woke me. By the time she stormed upstairs and burst through my bedroom door, I was already dressed. “Leo, do you really think that by destroying Evan, I won’t just find another Evan? A new pretty face to replace him?” she snarled. When she was chasing me, she’d fret over the slightest frown on my face, showering me with concern and gifts. And now? Now she looked like she wanted me dead. “I’m not that naive,” I said, my hand in my pocket, secretly turning on my voice recorder. “And I know you. You might like Evan, but you’d never throw away the career you fought so hard for just for him. You’ve been investing in him for years; you expect a return. In this movie, his role is small but charming. It could have been his big break. This scandal affects his marketability, maybe even your company’s stock. That’s why you’re so angry, isn’t it?” Every time she wanted to provoke me, she either shamed me for being the man who married into her money or threw cash at Evan to spite me. She probably didn’t realize that neither of those things could hurt me anymore. All I wanted was a peaceful divorce. Victoria looked slightly taken aback, but she doubled down. “Glad you know your place!” I pressed on with my negotiation. “I couldn’t find the truth you wanted me to find all those years ago. But I’ve been your husband for three years. You’ve had lovers, you’ve ruined my career, and you’ve forced me to be Evan’s glorified gofer. You’ve seen it—my life is a miserable, chaotic mess, and I’m barely making any money. Your anger should be satisfied by now, right? Don’t get me wrong, I’m not asking for your forgiveness. I want to make a deal. If you agree, I will do everything in my power to clean up Evan’s image and help you salvage yours.” Victoria’s voice was ice. “Your terms.” “I want a divorce. Don’t worry, I won’t take any of your assets, we’ll stick to the prenup. Evan has to pay me my outstanding salary, and you will give me a substantial sum for my silence.” She sneered. “You’re dreaming!” Just then, her phone began vibrating violently. Victoria shot me a glare and went out to the balcony to take the call. When she returned, her face was a mask of grudging acceptance. “Fine. I agree.” I clicked the button to save the recording. “Pay the deposit first. Then I’m at your disposal.” To her credit, Victoria was generous. A hundred thousand dollars appeared in my account almost instantly. “Get changed,” she commanded. “Put on a decent suit. You’re coming with me to the office.” “Fine,” I said, playing my part. I took a quick shower and put on my most expensive suit. Victoria’s face was a mask of impatience. “You’re not young and cute like Evan. What’s taking you so long to change a damn shirt?” I grit my teeth and said nothing. Her eyes then fell on the jacket I had just taken off. “Did you go to the river on purpose?” Had she found the recorder? 4 I forced myself to remain calm. “The media is a beast. Why would I risk making things worse? You can check my phone. Evan’s scandal has nothing to do with me.” At my words, Victoria snatched my phone from the nightstand, unlocked it with a practiced flick of her thumb, and began to search it. My password was her birthday. A small performance to maintain the illusion of the devoted, dependent husband. The day we divorce, if I don’t change it, I’m a dog. After two minutes, she tossed the phone back at me. “You’d better not be playing games with me,” she warned. “You know I wouldn’t dare,” I said placatingly. “You’d better be right,” she hissed, her anger simmering again. “If you don’t fix this, I won’t even bother to collect your corpse.” …I swear she has some kind of rage disorder. Honestly, why can’t she just chill out? “Don’t worry,” I said. “I’ll make sure to die far, far away.” Besides, when you’re dead, you’re dead. I couldn’t care less what happens after. I made an excuse to tidy the room, using the opportunity to pocket the voice recorder. “Stop fussing,” Victoria snapped, slapping my arm. “I want to see your plan.” “Right.” I sent her the draft Lucy and I had worked on all morning. Seeing her displeased expression, I explained, “Right now, all we can do is suppress the story. Do you have any public events coming up?” “The Zhao family’s charity gala. In three days.” I nodded. “Should I go with you? I can play my part, follow your lead completely.” “Fine.” Victoria closed the document, her eyes scanning me from head to toe. “Let’s go,” she said, her tone imperious. “Okay.” In the car, I tried contacting the blogger again. Still nothing. Just as we pulled up to her office building, I received an anonymous text. 【Are you sure you want to help Victoria? She’s been unfaithful.】 I instinctively called the number. No answer. Just as I was about to text back, I heard Victoria’s voice, uncharacteristically gentle. “What are you so busy with?” I looked up to see her standing by the luxury car, clearly waiting for me to open her door. The performance had begun. I hurried to open it for her. She gave me a radiant smile. “Thank you, darling.” I played the dutiful husband at her company event, and then she came home with me, watching me work like a hawk. I had no chance to export the audio from the recorder or even think about who sent the anonymous text. Late that night, a call from Evan finally lured her away. Only then did I reply to the number: 【I have to help her.】 The reply was instantaneous: 【I want to see you.】 My guard went up immediately. 【Who are you?】 Could this be the person who had somehow bypassed my security measures and filmed Victoria and Evan in the theater? The person insisted: 【I want to see you.】 5 Lucy had been complaining to me just an hour before that killing the story was proving incredibly difficult. Now I knew why. This person was likely behind it. Still, what was there to fear? I was a grown man. The money was what mattered. So, I asked the mysterious figure: 【Meet now?】 Again, an instant reply: 【The viral post has been deleted.】 I immediately checked my bookmarked link. It was dead. This person was for real. I quickly asked for a meeting place. Half an hour later, I arrived at the designated private room in a high-end club. A young man at the door handed me a blindfold. I put it on without protest. Once I was led inside the room, my eyes quickly adjusted to the blackness behind the blindfold. “Who are you?” I asked into the darkness. “Can you tell?” It was a woman’s voice, melodious and soft. I had assumed it was a man playing games, but my mystery helper was a woman. I have a good memory for voices, and I was certain I’d never heard hers before. “I don’t know you,” I replied. She guided me to a seat. “Then we’ll get acquainted later.” “Why are you helping me?” I asked. She didn’t answer, instead busying herself with making tea. I was baffled but didn’t want to anger her, so I just sat there, numbly compliant. She must have put something in the air, or the tea. I actually fell asleep. When I woke with a start, my first instinct was to tear off the blindfold, but a warm, smooth hand pressed gently on mine. “Don’t.” She was still here. “Sorry, I fell asleep.” “It’s fine.” I sat up straight. “You won’t interfere with me clearing Evan’s name anymore, will you?” “I’ll help you.” “And Victoria’s company?” After a long silence, she said, “I’ll help with that, too.” When the young man helped me remove the blindfold, I realized it was already dawn. I walked to a nearby breakfast spot and ordered crab-filled soup dumplings and a bowl of sweet soy milk. As I ate, I checked the online situation. She worked fast. Searching for Evan’s name no longer brought up any negative keywords. I specifically checked his social media pages; all the hateful comments were gone. Fed and watered, I drove home. Victoria was sitting in the living room, her face taut with anger. The moment she saw me, she sneered, “Leo, which little tramp were you out seeing all night?” The hypocrisy. Did she forget that she was the one who ran off to see Evan in the middle of the night, giving me the window to do my own thing? But she was the client now. I couldn’t provoke her. “I was busy dealing with the online mess,” I explained. “Check for yourself if you don’t believe me. Only a few die-hards are still yelling about Evan, and new trending topics are popping up. Their attention will shift.” This only made her angrier. She snatched a manila envelope from the coffee table and hurled it at me. “Leo, why don’t you explain this!”

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On our wedding eve, Princess Hayley was caught with another man in the hunting lodge. The King, fearing my family would withdraw support, was furious. She remained calm. “Henry won’t leave me,” she said smugly. “He’s too infatuated.” The King seethed. “This isn’t a game! You’ll end things with Julian—now!” Behind the tapestry, my heart stalled. So, she’d only agreed to marry me to be with him. Hayley scoffed and left. I stepped out. The King sighed. “I tried to reason with her, but—” I shook my head. “A gentleman doesn’t steal love. If the alliance matters, consider your sister, Vanessa.” 1 My proposal left the King utterly stunned. “Henry, you can’t be serious. Vanessa… she’s a widow. You wouldn’t mind that?” “The Duchess and I are of a similar age,” I replied smoothly. “She should not be condemned to a life of hollow mourning for a husband she never even met, who passed so young. It is no life for a woman in her prime.” After a tense negotiation, the King finally consented to the match between me and his sister, Vanessa. When it came down to it, if Hayley’s scandal became public, it would be an unbearable stain on the royal family’s honor. “Your Majesty, these are the tributes from the Khergit envoys.” Handing the ledger to the King, I took my leave and made my way to Princess Hayley’s residence. It was almost laughable. For years, I had bent to her every whim, done everything in my power to earn a single glance of affection. I had come to the palace today hoping to impress my future father-in-law, only to stumble upon this… revelation. The moment I stepped into her opulent villa, a flicker of panic crossed Hayley’s face, swiftly replaced by a blaze of fury. “Henry Valerius! Who gave you permission to enter my home as you please?!” she snapped. “I’m warning you, one more disrespectful move and I’ll tell my father the wedding is off! Don’t think a royal decree means I’m chained to you!” In the past, my jealousy over Julian had made me obsessive. I’d followed her, constantly seeking reassurance, my mind a frantic mess of suspicion and anxiety. I had debased myself, all for the chance to marry her. Her current reaction, I supposed, was to be expected. “Good,” I said, my voice flat. “Because as it happens, you’re not the one I want to marry anymore.” Hayley let out a cold, mocking laugh. “Oh, stop posturing. You think I don’t know you? You groveled at my feet for months, wrote me endless letters, followed me around like a pathetic lapdog I couldn’t shake off!” I knew then that arguing was pointless. She was utterly convinced, deep in her bones, that I would never, ever give up on our marriage. As I turned to leave, my eyes caught a tell-tale mark on her throat, a flush of crimson just below her ear. The King’s words from the study echoed in my mind. There was only one explanation. It was from Julian. A woman of her station was meant to guard her reputation fiercely; a princess, even more so. Yet for Julian, Hayley was willing to cast aside all decorum, all honor. It was clear she loved him to the point of madness. Even knowing I would never marry her, a bitter resentment churned in my gut. An acidic burn rose in my throat, choking back the accusations I longed to hurl. I turned back, my gaze locking onto hers, searching, pleading for a flicker of shame, of guilt. She must have misinterpreted my stare. She snatched a porcelain teacup from the table and threw it at me. It shattered at my feet. “Staring at a lady’s neck? Is that the famed Valerius etiquette you’re so proud of?!” she shrieked. “Don’t think I don’t know what filthy thoughts are running through your head! Let me tell you something—even if we do get married, if you ever dare to force yourself on me, I’ll have my father ruin your entire house!” My expression turned to ice. A humorless smile touched my lips. “Rest assured, Princess. I have absolutely no interest in you.” “Don’t you lie to me! The only reason you’re so desperate to marry me is for what’s between my legs, isn’t it?” For some reason, her words were a physical blow. A sharp, brutal pang shot through my chest, the bitterness flooding from my mouth straight to my heart. So, that’s all I was to her. Defeated, with nothing left to say, I turned and walked away. 2 For several days, there was nothing but silence from Hayley. Then, tonight, she appeared at my door, a drunken Julian leaning heavily on her. “Julian’s father is being investigated by the Crown’s inquisitors. He needs to lay low at your estate for a few days.” Before I could even think of refusing, she had already guided him into a guest chamber. And then, the Princess of the realm became a common servant. She bustled about, tending to him with a frantic energy. She brewed a sobering tonic, sponged his face and chest, and even helped him out of his shirt and into a fresh linen one. I remembered last year. To prove myself worthy of a princess, I’d spent my nights at banquets with corrupt officials, gathering evidence against them, and had worked myself into a feverish illness. She never once visited, never once asked after me. In fact, she’d mocked me for it. “Look at you, a sickly wreck. And you think you’re worthy of me? What a joke.” As I passed the guest room, I saw her. Julian had pulled her into his arms, holding her tight. Her lips were swollen and red, and on her neck was another fresh, damning mark. She looked up, her eyes meeting mine. She scrambled to her feet, flustered. “Henry, it’s not what you think. Don’t get the wrong idea.” Her reaction told me she was, at least, aware of the shame of her premarital affair. It just didn’t stop her. I gave a cold, detached curl of my lip. “Your Highness, I understand perfectly. I shall take my leave.” I returned to my own chambers without waiting for her reply, but to my surprise, she followed me in. “I know you’re upset. You don’t have to bottle it up. Just say what’s on your mind,” she said, her tone almost reasonable. “But I need you to know that nothing happened between Julian and me. We are innocent.” She said it with such conviction, her words ringing with self-righteousness. I found it utterly laughable. “Innocent?” I finally shot back. “Princess, you and Julian were discovered in the Royal Gardens, your clothes in disarray, by a member of the King’s own council. Is that your definition of innocent?” She froze, her face paling. It took her a long moment to recover. “A bug… a bug fell into my dress. I asked Julian to help me get it out,” she stammered. “We didn’t do anything.” Lies. One after another. In the past, I would have argued, fought her on every point, but it never led anywhere. My silence seemed to convince her she’d won. She summoned a servant, who brought in a long, velvet-lined box. She presented it to me. “Alright, then. I know how much you enjoy your swordsmanship. Consider this an early wedding gift.” I stared at the dueling saber inside the box. I was stunned. She had forgotten. Or perhaps she never knew. Since the day I’d saved her from a fall as a child, my health had been fragile. I had a lingering weakness that made any sort of rigorous martial training impossible. As for a love of swordsmanship… that was Julian’s passion, not mine. He was the brute, the brawler. But of course, she wouldn’t remember my preferences. Her world revolved around Julian. Seeing my hesitation, her patience wore thin. “I promise,” she said, her voice sharp, “if you stop making a fuss, I will marry you. You will be my husband, at least in name.” Her words piqued a morbid curiosity in me. “In name only? What does that mean?” “It means I will not share your bed. And if you try to force me, then I won’t marry you at all.” So, you won’t share my bed, but you’ll share Julian’s. The thought was cold and clear. She was so certain that I would agree to anything, any humiliation, just to have her. “It’s late, Princess. You should leave.” I ignored her protests and moved to close the door. She seemed ready to argue further, but a sudden clap of thunder rattled the windows. A panicked shout came from the guest room. Julian. Her face immediately flooded with worry. “I have to check on Julian. I’ll come back and talk to you after he’s asleep.” She turned and hurried away. Half an hour passed. It wasn’t Hayley who came to my door. It was Julian. He showed no signs of being drunk. Instead, he radiated a smug, post-coital languor. He gave me a lazy, triumphant smirk. “The Princess has fallen asleep in the guest chamber,” he said, his voice a low drawl. “Regarding tonight’s… events. I trust a man of your stature knows how to be discreet, yes?” I looked at him, and to my own surprise, I felt a profound, unnerving calm. It was as if she had finally, truly been excised from my heart. Meeting his gaze, I offered a polite, placid smile. “Of course. You can count on my discretion.” 3 When I returned from my duties at the ministry the next day, I found Hayley in my main hall. She looked momentarily awkward upon seeing me. “I was so tired last night, I ended up just sleeping here.” I just smiled and said nothing. She picked up a bowl of porridge from the table and, with a sudden and startling attentiveness, held a spoonful to my lips. “Here, try this. I woke up at dawn to make it.” What a marvel. The princess, whose hands had never touched a pot or pan in her life, waking at dawn to cook. I took the spoon and tasted it. “It’s quite good.” The words were barely out of my mouth before she snatched the bowl back. A delighted, childlike grin spread across her face. “Wonderful! If a man with a palate as refined as yours approves, then Julian will surely love it!” she chirped, already turning and heading towards his room. Watching her go, so full of giddy excitement, I felt a sudden, hollowing emptiness. It made sense, I suppose. In all our years together, she had never once cooked for me. It was always me catering to her, learning her tastes, preparing her meals, hoping for a crumb of her affection. “Julian, my love, time to wake up and have your breakfast!” Hayley’s sweet, cloying voice pulled me from my thoughts. I turned away, heading for my study. I had no desire to witness their saccharine display. By the time I finished my work, Hayley was gone, but Julian remained. He greeted me with that same infuriatingly cheerful grin. “Henry, my friend! Hayley went out to fetch some medicine for me. Come, join me for a meal.” I was hungry, so I didn’t refuse. The moment I sat down, he placed a piece of meat in my bowl. “You know, Henry,” he began, his tone dripping with false sympathy, “I almost admire you. To wear the horns so proudly and still insist on marrying her.” He leaned in, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Tell me, are you truly that blind, or are you just… pathetic?” This was his favorite tactic: enrage me, make me lose my composure in front of Hayley. But I no longer cared about Hayley. And I certainly had no intention of wasting another moment on a man like him. 4 I rose from the table and went to my study to pack. After my wedding to Vanessa, I was to be dispatched to the Sunstone Coast to serve as the regional governor. It was time to get my affairs in order. But when I opened the cabinet in my study, I found it empty. My mother’s bracelet—the mother-of-pearl heirloom she had given me on her deathbed—was gone. It had been passed down through generations of her family. “When you marry,” she had whispered, her voice thin as paper, “give this to your wife. And bring her to visit my grave, so I can rest in peace.” It was more than just an heirloom. It was the last tangible piece of her I had left. “Looking for this, Henry?” I whipped my head around at the sound of Julian’s voice. There it was, dangling mockingly from his fingers. The mother-of-pearl bracelet. “Give it back,” I said, my voice dangerously low. “That was my mother’s.” He let out a contemptuous snort. “Oh, the late Lady Valerius’s personal effects? How touching.” And then, he simply opened his hand. The bracelet hit the stone floor and shattered into a dozen milky-white fragments. In that instant, a volcanic rage erupted inside me, incinerating all reason. I lunged forward and my fist connected with his jaw, sending him sprawling to the ground. As if on cue, Hayley chose that exact moment to walk through the door. She gasped, rushing to Julian’s side, fussing over him, checking him for injuries. Once she was satisfied he was unharmed, she rounded on me, her eyes spitting fire. “Henry! What is wrong with you?! Apologize to Julian this instant!” She didn’t know. She didn’t care to know. She just saw her beloved on the floor and me standing over him. It was always like this. For Julian, she had infinite trust, boundless compassion. For me, the man who had poured out his soul for her, there was only prejudice. “Do you think staying silent will solve anything? Apologize!” she demanded again. Her fury was a physical force, and my own resentment rose to meet it. “He deliberately smashed my mother’s bracelet. Don’t you think he deserved it?” “I gave that thing to Julian,” she retorted icily. “If he smashed it, he smashed it. What’s the problem?”

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The spotlight glared at the launch event for the Stellara Apex S8. This was supposed to be the moment my wife, Caroline—the CEO—finally told the world about us. But then he walked on stage, her old flame, Fred, just back from a long stint overseas, his smile dripping with smug satisfaction. “Caroline,” he announced, his voice booming through the auditorium, “I can finally love you out in the open, for everyone to see.” Caroline didn’t explain. She didn’t even glance my way. Instead, she leaned in and gave him a soft, lingering kiss right there on stage, then declared to the world that Fred was the new Lead Developer of the Apex S8 project. The reaction was instantaneous. Applause thundered through the hall, and online forums exploded with messages of congratulations. They were a power couple, a perfect match. Seeing my stony silence, Caroline’s eyes narrowed, flashing a warning. “Ethan, what’s with the long face? You got a problem?” I didn’t argue. I didn’t cause a scene. I just gave her a slight nod and, in front of everyone, tossed my Lead Developer badge into the nearest trash can. “Of course I have a problem,” I said, my voice calm but carrying. “A man of Fred’s talent deserves more than just a title. Why stop at an announcement? You two should get married right here, right now. Let us all share in the joy.” 1 A wave of shock rippled through my colleagues as they watched my badge clatter against the bottom of the bin. They knew. They all knew I’d bled for the Apex S8, run myself into the ground, a collection of stress-induced illnesses my only reward. But then, a flicker of understanding dawned on their faces. One by one, they gave me subtle nods, some even a thumbs-up, their expressions a mix of pity and admiration for my supposed “magnanimity.” Only Caroline, on her throne of a stage, looked ready to kill. I met her furious gaze without a shred of desire to explain myself. Caroline had always hated the idea of office romance. In our six years of marriage, my existence as her husband was the company’s best-kept secret. I’d pleaded with her, time and again, to go public, but she’d always shut me down, claiming a CEO had to set an example. She promised me that on the day the Apex S8 was successfully launched, she would finally acknowledge me. Now, with a casual smile, she had handed my life’s work, my identity, to another man. As the crowd’s whispers turned to Fred, their eyes filled with a new, speculative curiosity, Caroline’s patience finally snapped. “Ethan, what the hell is wrong with you?” she hissed into her mic. I managed a thin, bitter smile. “Who am I to stand in the way of true love?” My devotion had been worthless against the ghost of a past romance. I said no more, simply turned my back on the stage, and walked out. The Apex S8 was a triumph because of my sleepless nights and my network of top-tier industry contacts who’d helped me push the core technology to its limits. I had collapsed from exhaustion more times than I could count, all to build the pedestal she was standing on today. But now, the last embers of my love for her had turned to ash. I was done building a world for someone else to live in. The project was nearly complete, but I knew Fred. He was all style and no substance, a “visionary” with a fancy overseas degree who wouldn’t be able to finish my remaining work in three years, let alone three weeks. Outside, I unlocked the beat-up electric scooter Caroline had so “generously” provided for me. A hollow laugh escaped my lips. For six years, she controlled every penny. I’d asked for a simple car for my commute, just a used sedan, but she’d refused. “We already have a car,” she’d said, her voice sharp with disapproval. “Why waste the money? Do you have to compare yourself to everyone else?” But in six years, she’d never once let me ride in her car, always citing appearances. I’d accepted it, telling myself it was for the good of the company. I finally understood the truth the day Fred returned and she bought him a brand-new Maybach without a second thought. It was never about the company. It was just that she never had any room for me in her heart. My own heart felt like a dead weight in my chest. I was about to head home to pack my things when the gleaming black Maybach cut me off. Fred rolled down the window, a smug grin plastered on his face. “Ethan, you really think Caroline would ever go public with a broke-ass loser like you? You’re dreaming. Thank God she announced it was me today. Imagine the laughing stock the company would be if it were you.” He looked down on me, his words dripping with contempt. It was his favorite game: provoke me, then play the victim to drive a wedge between Caroline and me. Nearly every fight we’d ever had could be traced back to him. This time, I couldn’t be bothered to engage. Just then, Caroline appeared. In a flash, Fred gunned the engine and deliberately scraped the Maybach against a nearby utility pole. “Oh my God, Ethan, are you okay?” he cried, feigning panic. “It’s all my fault, I didn’t see you on your scooter!” He scrambled out of the car, rushing to my side with a look of theatrical concern. “I know you’re upset that I got the credit for your work, but you shouldn’t have swerved in front of me like that! What if you’d been seriously hurt? I’d feel guilty for the rest of my life.” I was done with the drama. I tried to ride away, but Caroline was faster. One swift, brutal kick sent me and the scooter crashing to the pavement. “If you want to die, go do it somewhere else!” she snarled, her face a mask of cold fury. “Don’t you dare try to pin this on Fred!” If she had just looked, just for a second, she would have seen who was truly at fault. But she didn’t want to see. In that moment, the last of my hope withered and died. Fred pretended to help me up. I shoved his hand away, and he immediately crumpled to the ground, wincing in fake pain. It was kindergarten-level acting, but for Caroline, it was an award-winning performance. Without a word, she slapped me hard across the face, then rushed to Fred, cradling him in her arms as if he were made of glass. She bundled him into the Maybach and sped away, running three red lights to get him to a hospital. The scene replayed in my mind: the time I’d been hospitalized with a bleeding stomach after a brutal networking dinner for the company. She’d shown up, handed me a bottle of water and some antacids, and told me to rest up. I let out a dry, bitter laugh, pulled my battered scooter upright, and went home. Later that night, Fred posted on his story. “Getting hurt isn’t so bad when the boss buys you a five-star dinner.” The picture was of Caroline, smiling sweetly as she fed him a bite of food. Expressionless, I typed a single comment: A match made in heaven. A moment later, my phone rang. It was Caroline. I expected her to yell at me for ruining their dinner. Instead, her voice was soft. “Ethan, you know how Fred is. He’s just… young. Give him a few years to mature, and then I’ll tell everyone about us. I promise.” “The Lead Developer title is just for show,” she continued. “Behind the scenes, you’ll still be in charge. The team still answers to you.” “Mhm,” I said, my voice flat. The classic one-two punch of cruelty and kindness. I’d been swallowing that bait for six years. Now, I was sick of it. Sensing my mood, she paused. “I left a gift for you in the drawer,” she said finally. “A little something to make up for today. Can we just… not fight about this?” I opened the drawer. Inside was a beautifully wrapped box. Printed on the gift tag, in elegant script, were the words: For my dearest Fred. So it was his gift. No wonder she sounded so conflicted giving it to me. I didn’t argue. I didn’t say another word. I just quietly ended the call. I didn’t even bother to open it. The box went straight into the trash. Then, I picked up my phone and dialed the number for a recruiter at Tesla, a man who’d been trying to poach me for years. “I’ve made my decision,” I said. “I can start next month.” 2 As one of the top EV companies in the world, Tesla had been sending me offers for years. Each year, the salary and benefits got better. But I had turned them down every time, without a moment’s hesitation, all to stay by Caroline’s side. On the other end of the line, the recruiter, fearing I might change my mind, immediately offered me the position of Director of R&D, complete with a company car and a fully furnished house. A knot tightened in my chest. In a single phone call, a stranger had shown me more value and respect than my own wife had in six years of marriage. I thought back to the beginning. It was Caroline’s offhand comment about wanting to be a CEO that made me give up a guaranteed executive position to start a company with her from scratch. I poured my life into it. Countless all-nighters, endless schmoozing for investors, a body wracked with chronic illnesses—that was the price I paid to put her, who had done nothing, on the CEO’s throne. I willingly became the ghost in the machine, the man behind the curtain. I had given her everything she ever wanted, only to watch her hand it all to someone else. From now on, I was living for myself. That night, I booked a flight and drafted my resignation letter. I also compiled all the final technical specifications, safety protocols, and a detailed pricing strategy for the Apex S8, and sent it all to Caroline’s email. Now, I owed her nothing. As I packed, I unearthed a trove of long-forgotten memories. Matching sweaters, his-and-hers bracelets, a photo album filled with snapshots of a happier time. Everything was covered in a fine layer of dust, a testament to how long they’d been neglected. It all started to change the day Fred came back. The cozy nights in our tiny apartment, the fireworks we watched on New Year’s Eve, the way she’d stay up with me whenever I was sick, the promises we whispered in the dark—all of it slowly faded. It was replaced by her all-nighters at the “office,” her weekend trips with Fred. Even when I was sick in bed, she no longer offered a single word of comfort. Love, I realized, could truly die. I had once asked her why, my heart aching with confusion. Her response was a cold wave of disdain. “We’ve been married for years, Ethan. How can you be so much less mature than Fred?” “Fred is a talent, a visionary. Of course I’m going to give him more resources. It’s for the future of our company. Can’t you be less petty for once?” Staring at the photo album, I felt a profound sense of foolishness. I tossed it into the trash can with the rest of the garbage. My phone buzzed. A message from Caroline. “Working late at the office. I can’t make it for our anniversary tonight. We’ll celebrate next year.” I didn’t reply. I just quietly canceled the flowers and the reservation I’d made for our candlelight dinner. In the past, she would have just ghosted me. This time, she at least bothered to make an excuse. Progress, I supposed. I scrolled mindlessly through my news feed. The top story featured a splashy headline: “Tech CEO and Her Old Flame Spotted on a Romantic Beach Getaway, Complete with Fireworks.” The faces in the photo were painfully familiar. Caroline and Fred. The comments were flooded with heart emojis and blessings. I added my own like to their happiness. Then, I took a long, hot shower, went out for a drink, and stopped by a print shop to get copies of a divorce petition. It was well past midnight when I stumbled back home. The first thing I saw was Caroline, standing in the living room, her face a thundercloud of fury. “So now you have the guts to go out carousing all night, do you?” 3 I yawned, a little surprised. She was actually home. Usually, whenever Fred was involved, she’d stay with him, glued to his side. I ignored her and started for the bedroom. She grabbed my arm, her grip like steel. “It’s our anniversary, and you go out drinking? And here I was, rushing back from work just to be with you.” Her voice was laced with accusation. “Ethan, is this how you fulfill your duties as a husband?” Duties? The woman could lie without blinking, and now she had the audacity to lecture me about responsibility? She spends our anniversary watching fireworks with another man, then comes home to blame me for being irresponsible. I remembered all the nights I’d waited up for her, only to be called “immature” and “clingy,” to be told I should focus my energy on work instead of bothering her. Now that I’d stopped caring, she couldn’t stand it. “Yeah, whatever,” I mumbled, just wanting to sleep. She yanked me back, her eyes cold and hard. “I haven’t showered. You can join me.” A year ago, an invitation like that would have sent my heart soaring. I would have dropped everything, all my anger and resentment, to wash her back and feel her close. Now, it just felt like another one of her games. I noticed the faint, dark mark on her neck—a kiss. A wave of nausea washed over me. I pushed her away, my voice rough with irritation. “I’ve already showered. You go.” Her eyes widened in disbelief. “Is this because I came home late on our anniversary? I told you, I was busy with work! Why are you being so unreasonable?” she demanded. “I didn’t say a word about you going out drinking, and this is the attitude I get?” With that, she stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind her. In the past, I would have chased after her. I would have begged, apologized, and taken all the blame. Tonight, I just climbed into bed and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep. The next morning, I woke up feeling refreshed and made myself a single-portion breakfast. Just as I was about to eat, I noticed Caroline was still home. That was new. She never came back unless I groveled first. With a sigh, I pushed my plate across the table to her. Her expression softened slightly. Then I saw them. A set of Porsche keys sitting on the counter. My heart gave a painful lurch. It was my dream car, the one I’d told her about a hundred times, the one she always said we couldn’t afford. Noticing my gaze, Caroline had the grace to look uncomfortable. “They’re a birthday present for Fred,” she said quietly. “I’ll get yours next time.” The world plunged into an icy abyss. I laughed, a hollow, self-mocking sound. Of course. Why did I think for a second she might have changed? I nodded, forcing a smile. Then I slid two documents across the table toward her. “Just a couple of papers that need your signature.” She took them, her annoyance returning. “Give you an inch and you take a mile.” She signed the first document—my resignation letter—without even reading it. A sharp pain lanced through my chest, even though I’d expected it. She signed the second one, too. It wasn’t until she’d finished her signature that she looked at the title. Divorce Agreement.

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For eight years, I secretly dated my best friend’s sister, Eleonora Chan—the powerful CEO who was my boss by day, my lover by night. I discovered the receipt for a one-of-a-kind engagement ring and followed her to a lavishly decorated venue, heart pounding. But it wasn’t me she proposed to—it was a man who looked exactly like me. “Finally got your golden boy back,” her friend smirked. “When will you dump the substitute?” Nora exhaled cigarette smoke lazily. “The poor boy’s too in love. I’ll deal with him later.” That night, I texted my mother: [I’ll accept the arranged marriage.] And when Nora saw my marriage license photo on her wedding day—the color drained from her face. 1 After confirming the marriage alliance with my mother, I booked the first flight out. Forcing the image of Nora’s proposal from my mind, I rushed back to the apartment we shared and threw my belongings into a suitcase. I was in the living room, grabbing my last few things, when Nora walked in, her face lit with a joy I’d never seen before. “Oh, Dustin,” she sighed, wrapping her arms around me from behind. “I love you so much. Let’s be together forever, okay?” She leaned in to kiss me, her breath thick with the scent of alcohol and a sharp, overpowering cologne. It was the same classic cologne she always insisted on buying for me, no matter how many times I told her I preferred the warmer, woody scent of cedar. I’d even gotten an earful from her the few times I’d forgotten to wear it. Now I understood. The man she loved, the man who wore this scent, was someone else entirely. From the very beginning, I was nothing more than a replica she was crafting. A wave of disgust washed over me, and I flinched away from her touch. But the desire in her eyes didn’t fade. She slammed me against the door, her cool hands already sliding under the hem of my shirt. “Nora! Get off me!” Surprise flickered in her eyes. I had never spoken to her like that. She opened her mouth to question me, but the doorbell chimed, interrupting the moment. She opened the door, and a man burst in, sweeping her into his arms and planting a quick kiss on her cheek. Then he saw me, his smile a blinding, triumphant glare. “You must be Dustin,” he said, his voice dripping with false cordiality. “The secretary who’s been by Nora’s side for eight years, right?” “Pleasure to meet you. I’m James, Nora’s fiancé. Thanks for looking after her for me all these years!” The rich scent of that same cologne wafted off him, identical to the one clinging to Nora. It was suffocating. I didn’t move. I just stared at her. Nora faltered for a second before her gaze slid away from mine. “Yes,” she confirmed, her voice suddenly flat. “This is the junior secretary I told you about. He doesn’t make much, so I let him stay in the guest room. It’s convenient for when I need help with odd jobs.” James waved a dismissive hand. “Nora, darling, why are you explaining again? I’m not some petty man who can’t separate business from personal life. Besides,” he added, his eyes scanning me up and down, “he looks so much like me. It must have been comforting for you to have him around. In a way, I should be thanking him!” He then gestured grandly towards his luggage. “Since Dustin knows the layout, perhaps he could be a dear and move my things into your room? We’re getting married soon, after all. It’s about time we started living together properly!” He issued the order with a beaming smile, and Nora said nothing to object. I thought of all the times I had pleaded to move into the master bedroom with her. She had always refused, insisting that couples needed their own space. Only on nights when passion overtook her would she let me stay. If I ever accidentally left so much as a sock behind, her face would cloud over, and she’d lecture me about respecting boundaries. I had always thought it was just a part of her meticulous, self-disciplined nature. But the truth was, the role of the man of the house was never meant for me. Suddenly, my phone buzzed. It was a message from Nora. [Babe, it’s just a business arrangement with James, a sham marriage for the company. Don’t misunderstand.] I almost laughed. She was still treating me like a child. Fine. If she said her marriage was fake, then it was fake. As long as mine was real. I headed towards the guest room to finish packing, but James beat me to it. “Dustin, Nora is quite attached to me, so it wouldn’t be appropriate for you to stay here any longer. You should probably find your own place soon…” He trailed off as he entered the room. “Oh, you’re already halfway packed? And your style… it’s just like mine! What a coincidence!” A chilling coldness crept through me. Buying me clothes and watches had always been Nora’s favorite way of showing affection. I once believed it was proof of her love. Now, looking at the room full of clothes and accessories that never quite suited me, I saw how perfectly they would fit James. It was I who had been the impostor all along. I didn’t have the energy to confront her. But as I turned to leave, Nora grabbed my arm, her face hardening. “Why are you packing? Did something happen? Talk to me!” I looked away, unable to meet her gaze. Just then, I saw James reach for the music box on my nightstand. “Don’t touch that!” I yelled. With a sickening crash, the music box shattered on the floor, its delicate lid and tiny figurines of a prince and princess scattering like broken promises. “Oh… I’m so sorry, Dustin. I didn’t mean to…” James clutched his hand, a thin red line appearing on his palm. “Nora, my hand… it hurts…” Nora rushed to his side, examining the scratch as if it were a mortal wound. The next second, she whirled on me, her face a mask of fury. She stomped on the remains of the music box, grinding the delicate pieces under her heel. “It’s just a stupid trinket!” she spat, her eyes burning with a terrifying rage. “Did you have to scare him like that, Dustin?!” “Get this trash out of here. I never want to see it in this house again!” With one final, vicious twist of her foot, she crushed what was left of the music box into dust. Then, supporting a whimpering James, she walked out without a backward glance. Tears splashed onto the wreckage. Shards of wood and metal bit into my fingers as I gathered the pieces, but I felt nothing. I was sixteen when my parents’ marriage fell apart. Lost and alone, I’d gone to my best friend Leo’s house, hoping to find him. He wasn’t there, but his older sister, Nora, had just returned from a shopping trip. “Hey, kid,” she’d said gently, noticing my tears. “You’re Leo’s friend, aren’t you? What’s wrong? You can tell me.” I tried to leave, too embarrassed to speak, but she held me back. She shooed away her own friends and told me to wait. Then she ran out into the pouring rain and came back with an armful of cakes and pastries from the best bakery in town. She ruffled my hair and, with a conspiratorial whisper, produced a beautiful music box. As its gentle melody filled the air, the tiny prince and princess on top began to twirl. “Don’t be scared, kid,” she’d said, her voice a warm blanket. “No matter what anyone else does, this big sister, right here? I’ll protect you for the rest of your life. I swear it on this music box.” Her simple, earnest promise had captured my heart in that moment of utter despair. I had loved Eleonora Chan for ten years, from that day to this. I still remembered her vow, every word of it. But the woman who made it had long since forgotten. I cradled the handful of sharp memories for a moment longer, then tossed them into the trash. The vow, and Nora herself—I was done with them both.

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The last thing I remember from my past life was the cybersecurity competition. The campus heartthrob my girlfriend was obsessed with submitted a security protocol identical to mine. Then my own sister went on a livestream to “expose” me, calling me a shameless plagiarist. The entire internet turned on me. Not even my own parents believed me. They told me I was a disgrace and would be better off dead. Eventually, I got sick and fulfilled their wish. I died. Then, I woke up, reborn on the day before the competition deadline. This time, I decided to hell with it all. I was leaving the country. But to my surprise, the campus heartthrob started to panic. 1 My eyes fluttered open. I was still in the university lab. A glance at the wall clock told me it was 2 AM, but the lab was still buzzing with the low hum of computers and the frantic energy of my classmates. I looked at the calendar. Exactly one week until the submission deadline for the cyber-defense competition. After pulling a series of all-nighters, I’d finally crashed for a few minutes. My teammate, Rachel, tapped me on the shoulder. “Kevin, if you’re hitting a wall, you should head home. A fresh mind works faster tomorrow.” I nodded, the full weight of reality crashing down on me. I was back. I had been reborn. Staring at the blinking cursor on my screen, I couldn’t help but be dragged back into the memories of my past life. I remembered the elation our team felt when we submitted our defense protocol to the competition organizers. That joy was short-lived. We were disqualified for plagiarism. An army of online trolls pointed out that our design was identical to another team’s. One of the key members of that other team had been uploading his code and thought processes to a public GitHub repository, amassing a legion of fans who worshipped his “genius.” I was hounded relentlessly by them. “What a shameless rip-off artist. His team just copied the entire open-source project. If I’d known it was that easy, I would’ve entered and won too!” “The nerve of this guy, not even trying to hide it. People like him should be blacklisted from the entire industry. And what kind of university churns out students like this?” “He’s still in school and he’s already willing to do anything for money. Imagine how corrupt he’ll be once he gets into the real world!” … But we knew it was impossible. Our entire team had brainstormed the solution together. How could a design born from the minds of several people perfectly mirror someone else’s work? But our disbelief didn’t matter. My own sister, Jessica, became the star witness for the prosecution. She hosted a livestream, meticulously comparing our code to the “victim’s” code, line by line. It looked like a perfect copy-paste job. The memory sent a jolt through me. I immediately opened my browser and searched for the “victim’s” GitHub profile. The avatar was a handsome, athletic guy. He already had tens of thousands of followers, with comments full of people calling him a “legend” and “the future.” His last post had been updated just five minutes ago. I clicked on it, and my blood ran cold. He had shared his latest design concept, complete with the source code. His logic, his code… it was identical to what I had just finished writing. Not a single character was different. For a moment, I wondered if I was losing my mind, if some cosmic system was playing a sick joke on me. The guy’s name was Ethan. He was a varsity athlete at our university, popular for his sunny good looks. The ultimate career path for graduates from our program was a coveted spot at Nexus Labs, the research division of a tech behemoth that sponsored our competition. A starting salary there could easily hit seven figures. A few days ago, Ethan had posted a bold declaration on the campus social network: he vowed to become a hacking prodigy in 30 days and land a job at Nexus Labs straight out of college. 2 Naturally, none of us in the computer science department bought it. But his fangirls did. And my girlfriend, Sophie, was one of them. More than once, Sophie had gushed to me about Ethan, about how handsome he was, how he had a perfect six-pack. I’d gotten angry, offered to break up and set her free. But she’d insisted he was just an idol, someone to admire from afar. She said I was the one she wanted to build a life with. Back then, I was a fool. Sophie was the daughter of our family’s housekeeper; we’d grown up together. She was always sweet, always there for me, and I believed she truly cherished our relationship. I had my faults, too. I spent most of my time buried in the lab. Sophie used to joke that my code was my real girlfriend, and she was just the other woman. But just now, on Ethan’s profile, I spotted a photo taken in a luxury hotel room. Reflected in the window were two figures. One was clearly my sister, Jessica. The other was just a partial image—a slender arm with a small, distinct scar on the fleshy part of her hand, right where the thumb and index finger meet. I knew that scar. It was Sophie’s. From the angle of the shot, it was obvious Ethan had intentionally framed Jessica in the reflection while cutting Sophie out. It seemed he wasn’t interested in her; she was just a backup. My gut screamed at me that Sophie and my sister were behind this whole twisted affair. But why? Why would they conspire with an outsider to destroy me? And how were they doing it? How was Ethan always one step ahead, getting his hands on my code the second I wrote it? Did they tamper with my computer? The thought sent a shiver down my spine. I immediately ran a diagnostic, searching for any monitoring software or spyware. I found nothing. Could it really be a coincidence? The competition’s main goal was to optimize security systems to better defend against foreign hackers trying to steal user funds. The current payment systems on the market already did this reasonably well. With that thought, I deleted all the advanced code I had written. In its place, I wrote out the code for the most common, standard solution currently available. I was curious. Would Ethan update his GitHub with this, too? Once that was done, I finally headed home. Just as I walked in, so did Jessica. Her eyes swept over me, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Well, well, if it isn’t our resident coding genius. How’s it going? Writer’s block finally setting in?” My parents had always favored the more successful child. Compared to my sister, that had always been me. She’d resented me for it her whole life. In my past life, I would have ignored her jab. But now, I was on high alert. How did she know whether my work was going smoothly or not? “Everything’s going great, actually,” I replied coolly. “If things go as planned, I’ll be taking first place again.” “Hah!” she scoffed, her conviction absolute. “No chance. You are not winning this time.” The sound of our bickering brought our father out of his study. He ran a small financial firm. In my past life, my stellar academic record—always first in my class, always winning programming competitions—had been his greatest source of pride. “He gets his brains from me,” he’d boast. I had even helped optimize many of the security systems for his company. But after I was accused of plagiarism, his attitude did a complete 180. He’d spat at me, disgusted that I had shamed him. He’d asked me why I still had the nerve to be alive, why I hadn’t just died. Later, he and Jessica had thrown me out of the house, leaving me to die alone and sick in a hospital. The memory made my fists clench. But now, my father was all smiles. “I believe in my son. He’s just like me, always a winner. Once your system is perfected, I’ll replace my company’s entire security protocol with yours. Think of the bragging rights!” I forced down the unease churning in my gut and nodded obediently, just like I always had. Jessica snorted and stalked off to her room. My father patted my shoulder, telling me to get some sleep. I agreed, but the moment I was in my room, I started tearing it apart, searching for hidden cameras. I found nothing. I logged onto my computer at home and checked Ethan’s profile again. His GitHub hadn’t been updated. Was I just being paranoid? Maybe. If I was, then great. I already had a breakthrough idea for the system optimization. I’d start fresh in the lab tomorrow. 3 The next morning, the first thing I did upon arriving at the lab was check Ethan’s profile. Still no updates. It really must have been a coincidence. A wave of relief washed over me, and I finally felt free to dive back into my work. I skipped lunch, fueled by the adrenaline of coding. The lines of logic flowed from my fingertips, and by the afternoon, the program compiled and ran flawlessly. I leaned back, stretching, a deep sense of accomplishment warming me as I looked at the screen filled with my work. Rachel, seeing I was finally done, came over, her face bright with excitement. “Kevin, you did it? Is it running? You’re amazing! What do you want to eat? We have to celebrate!” But a knot of anxiety was still tightening in my stomach. I couldn’t shake the fear that Ethan was about to pull something. “Anything’s fine,” I said. “Just grab something quick.” Rachel nodded and left to get food. The moment she was gone, I opened Ethan’s GitHub profile again. My heart stopped. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. His latest post contained the exact code I had just finished running. I refreshed the page, again and again, convinced my eyes were playing tricks on me. On the fifth refresh, a new post appeared. What I saw made my skin crawl. It was a photo. A photo of my own computer screen, with his GitHub profile open in the browser. He had captioned it: “Didn’t expect to get noticed by a competition heavyweight. Looking forward to seeing your final design!” The photo had clearly been taken by someone inside the lab. A cold sweat broke out on my skin. I whipped my head around, scanning the room. Everyone was hunched over their own keyboards, engrossed in their work. There was no way to tell who had done it. The comments under his new post were exploding. “Who’s that? Isn’t that the nerd who lives in the library and the lab? He’s all hard work, no real genius like our Ethan.” “Ethan, I heard he’s in the competition too. You should stop posting your code and ideas online. You never know who’s looking to steal them.” … No wonder I was so utterly destroyed in my past life. I was surrounded by enemies on all sides. “Kevin, food’s here. You look a little spooked, what’s wrong?” Rachel was back with takeout. “I’m fine. Just… tired lately,” I managed to say. I took a large bite of food, the warmth seeming to bring me back to life. I made a difficult decision. If everyone was so determined to see me lose, then fine. I’d quit. My life was more important. With my skills, I could get a great job even without this competition. With my mind made up, I went to find Rachel and told her my decision. She tried to talk me out of it, but seeing my resolve, she eventually relented. Though disappointed, she gave me a hug and told me to get some rest. I immediately booked a flight to Thailand, planning to just get away and clear my head. But just then, my phone rang. It was Sophie. Her voice was sharp with urgency. “I heard from someone on your team that you’re dropping out of the competition.” A chill went down my spine. “Who told you that?” I had just told Rachel. It was unlikely anyone else on our team even knew yet, but Sophie already did. She ignored my question and launched into an attack. “How can you be so irresponsible? A big competition like this is all about teamwork. You can’t just quit whenever you feel like it. Have you even thought about your teammates?” “Sophie, have you ever thought about me?” She was silent for a second. “…What about you?” “I think we should break up.” I hung up before she could respond. I was physically and mentally exhausted, and I didn’t want to be tangled up with her anymore. I grabbed my backpack and walked out. Right at the entrance, I saw them: Sophie, Ethan, and his entire team, rushing towards me. Ethan’s face was a mask of concern. “Kevin, you’re not misunderstanding things between me and Sophie, are you? There’s really nothing going on. And please, don’t quit the competition. I really want a chance to compete with you, fair and square!” Sophie added, with a reluctant pout, “Kevin, stop making a scene. Just stay and compete. I’ll spend more time with you from now on, okay? Besides,” she added with a cruel little smile, “you’ve been with me for so long. Who else would want you if we broke up?” I let out a cold laugh. “So now you’re telling me I can’t even break up with you or quit a competition?” Members of Ethan’s team started whispering. “Did he see Ethan’s code and realize he couldn’t win? Is that why he’s bailing?” “Totally. A naturally gifted guy like Ethan only needs to put in a little effort to crush someone like him.” I ignored them all, walking right past the group and heading for the airport. The online harassment I’d endured in my past life was far worse than this. Back then, I had lived in a state of constant paranoia, flinching every time someone looked at me on the street, half-expecting them to spit on me. This was nothing. 4 I had just arrived at the airport when my father’s call came through. He didn’t ask, he just started yelling. “Kevin! I heard you quit the competition! How could you run away like a coward? Do you have any idea how many people I told that you were guaranteed to be the champion? You get back here and compete right now!” There it was again. My father’s pride, his public image, was always more important than anything else. I didn’t have the energy to explain. Over the years, the prize money I’d won from competitions was more than enough for me to live comfortably for a while. The plane landed smoothly in Phuket. The moment I stepped onto the beach and saw the waves and the sun, a profound sense of peace washed over me. I spent my days sunbathing and drinking coconut water. Life was blissfully simple. No more all-nighters debugging code, no more anxiously refreshing Ethan’s GitHub to see what he’d post next. One evening, I got a call from Rachel. She had found a critical flaw in the design I had originally created. It could handle small-scale attacks just fine, but a massive, coordinated assault would cause the entire system to crash. Hackers could exploit that moment of collapse to drain user accounts. It was a massive security risk. In a real-world application, my code was a ticking time bomb. It needed additional layers of processing to be truly secure. I talked her through a potential solution, a new line of thinking. I could hear the “aha” moment in her voice as she understood. After hanging up, I browsed the news. I saw that my father had officially adopted Ethan as his godson. My father had always said he admired talent. It was true. His son had to be number one. If his real son couldn’t do it, he’d just anoint a new one. The news article quoted my sister, Jessica, crowing about how Ethan had already developed the most brilliant defense system in the world. Our family’s financial firm was about to upgrade its entire network. A flicker of curiosity got the better of me. I opened my laptop and, feeling like a spy, snuck a look at Ethan’s profile. His latest post was bursting with excitement. “The competition solution is complete! Full code below. All feedback is welcome.” The comments were a waterfall of praise for their “legend.” I studied his solution carefully. My blood froze. It was, bit for bit, the exact solution I had just described to Rachel. A chill ran down my spine. Had I been wrong all along? Was Rachel the one leaking my work? But why would she do that? My head was a chaotic mess. I decided to walk to a nearby temple, hoping to find some quiet. The moment I stepped inside, my phone rang. It was my sister. Her voice was frantic. “Kevin, you need to look at our company’s system, now! We’re getting flooded with calls from clients. Their money is just… disappearing from their accounts!” I had already taken a peek. The losses were around $50 billion.

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I had been in a coma for three years, a sacrifice I made to save my brother and his three best friends. When I finally woke up, my parents, my brother, and the three boys who were my childhood protectors swarmed my bedside, their excitement a frantic whirlwind. But I met their joy with a cool detachment. I knew the truth. I knew that when the hospital called to tell them I was awake, they didn’t rush to my side. They stayed to finish celebrating their adopted daughter’s birthday party first. In the three years I was gone, a new girl had quietly taken my place, inheriting my life, my family, my everything. A whisper of a memory, a premonition from my long sleep, had warned me of this. It told me I was destined to become the villain of this story, a girl consumed by jealousy, fighting to win back the affection of my family. A girl who would be despised by everyone and ultimately bring about her own tragic end. A cold smile touched my lips. Fight for them? No, thank you. A family and friends like that? I’d rather have nothing at all. 1 The television in my hospital room was broadcasting live from the lavish birthday party of the Rhodes family’s new “little princess.” The young heirs of the city’s most powerful families—the Reeds, the Greys, the Shaws—were all in attendance. Four handsome, impeccably dressed young men surrounded a beautiful girl, singing to her, a perfect portrait of adoration. It was a scene straight out of a fairy tale. I stared at the familiar faces on the screen. My father, my mother, my brother, and the three boys who were once my entire world. They already knew I was awake. The nurse had called them from my room, right next to my bed. My father had answered. Yet, there they were, their smiles serene, their focus entirely on the party, ensuring it reached its perfect, sparkling conclusion before they even thought of me. The nurse had just finished a round of physical therapy with me, and I was settling back into bed to rest when a frantic pounding of footsteps echoed from the hallway. The door to my room burst open, shattering the quiet. “Rory!” “Rory, you’re finally awake!” A sea of emotional faces, a torrent of relieved words, all painting a picture that my waking was the most important event in the world. If I hadn’t just seen their gentle, devoted gazes fixed on another girl on that television screen. If they hadn’t taken so damn long to get here. Maybe then I would have believed they were still the same parents, the same brother, the same boys I once knew. My expression remained flat. I shifted my gaze to the girl standing hesitantly in the doorway, still wearing the beautiful white dress from the party on TV. My mother noticed my stare and quickly, gently, beckoned her forward. “Rory, darling, this is your sister, Celine. She’s the daughter of your father’s dear friend who passed away. We adopted her three years ago.” “These past three years… if it weren’t for Celine keeping us company, I don’t know how I would have survived the grief,” Mom said, her voice thick with emotion. “That’s right,” Dad added with a heavy sigh. “Celine was like a gift from heaven during our darkest time.” My brother, Alex, smiled warmly at her. “Celine, now you have an older sister. Go on, say hello.” Celine looked at me, her eyes shining with what looked like genuine emotion. “Sister, I’m so happy you’re finally awake. Mom, Dad, and Alex have been so worried. I’ve always said, if my sister waking up meant I had to leave this family, I would do it in a heartbeat.” “Celine, don’t say such silly things,” Mom chided, pulling her into a tight hug. “You are never to talk about leaving the Rhodes family, do you hear me? You are a part of this family. And now you have a sister to look out for you.” “She’s right, you silly girl. No one is ever making you leave,” Dad added, his voice full of affection. “You’re always talking about leaving. Don’t you want us anymore? You’d break our hearts,” Alex said with a mock-pout. “Alex, of course I want you all!” Celine blushed, stamping her foot playfully, which made everyone chuckle. “And if anyone in the Rhodes house gives you a hard time, you come straight to me. I’ll still treat you like a princess,” said Caleb Reed, one of my three childhood friends. “Hey, what about me? Why does she have to go to you?” Julian Grey chimed in with a huff. “Celine likes me best, so obviously she’d come to my place,” Leo Shaw declared. “Get lost, who said she likes you best!” the others jeered. “Alright, you can all stop dreaming. Celine is our family’s princess. No one would dare bully her,” my brother, Alex, announced proudly. My parents just smiled and shook their heads. Celine, blushing, leaned against my mother. And just like that, in my hospital room, the universe shifted to revolve around her. I, the girl lying in the hospital bed, was a mere afterthought. I turned my head away, bored, just in time to catch the look Celine shot me over my mother’s shoulder. It was a look of pure, unadulterated triumph. 2 I used to be the Rhodes family’s little princess. My brother and the three boys—Caleb, Julian, and Leo—loved to dote on me. They called me their little sister, their princess, and swore they would always protect me. If anyone ever dared to bully me, they’d make them pay. I grew up wrapped in a cocoon of love and affection. That’s why, three years ago, when a horrific car crash left my brother and the boys bloodied and unconscious, I, the only one who had worn a seatbelt, was the only one with minor injuries. I saw the car leaking gasoline, saw the first flicker of flames, and knew what was coming. Sobbing, screaming their names, I dragged them one by one from the wreckage. But I wasn’t strong enough to get them all clear of the danger zone. I looked at these boys, my protectors, the ones who had cherished me my whole life, and made a decision. My body trembling with a fear so profound it was paralyzing, I climbed into the driver’s seat of the mangled car. I slammed my foot on the gas, the nearly destroyed vehicle lurching away from them. When I finally brought it to a stop a safe distance away, I scrambled out, trying to run. It was too late. The force of the explosion behind me threw me into darkness. During the three years I was unconscious, I lived in a long, vivid dream. I dreamed that my family adopted a girl my age. At first, when she tried to touch things in my room, my brother would stop her, telling her those were his sister’s things and no one else could touch them. At first, the three boys ignored her, saying the only little sister they had was Rory Rhodes. But slowly, everything changed. The girl’s fragile, helpless, and eager-to-please act began to worm its way into their hearts. Their weekly visits to my bedside became monthly, then quarterly. The last time they came before I woke up in the dream, half a year had passed. They were too busy taking the new girl to amusement parks, to see the Northern Lights, helping her with her studies, celebrating her birthday… Then, in the dream, I woke up after three years. They arrived late, with the girl in tow. Having been spoiled by their affection my whole life, I watched them fawn over Celine at my bedside and angrily demanded she leave my room. But in that moment, no one cared about the feelings of a girl who had just woken from a coma. They spoke gently, but their words were firm, urging me to accept my new sister. After that, Celine framed me for one thing after another. They never listened to my explanations. They always believed her, scolding me for being difficult, expressing their deep disappointment in me. They had once spoiled and protected me, but when I, wronged and hurt, acted out with the same stubbornness they had once found endearing, their faces now held only disappointment and disgust. The last time, unable to bear it anymore, I ran out of the house and straight into the path of a car, ending my short, ridiculous life. When I woke up for real this time, I found that everything was happening exactly as it had in the dream. They had adopted a girl named Celine. They hadn’t rushed to the hospital upon hearing I was awake; they had finished her birthday party first. In my room, the focus had instantly shifted to her. I understood then. The dream wasn’t a dream. It was my past life. And this time, I had to change my fate. My father seemed to suddenly remember I was there. He turned to me, his voice gentle. “Rory, are you feeling uncomfortable anywhere?” All eyes turned back to me. I looked at the crowd around my bed and smiled faintly. “I seem to recall that three years ago, I was the one who saved my brother and the three of you, correct?” 3 My question hung in the air, making them all pause. They seemed to think it was something that didn’t need to be said aloud. It was understood. That’s why they had rushed to the hospital in such a panic, wasn’t it? “Of course, Rory. You were so brave that day. We’re all incredibly grateful to you for saving our lives,” Alex said softly. Caleb and the others nodded in agreement. “Sister, thank you. Thank you for saving Alex, Caleb, Julian, and Leo. Because of you, I get to see them standing here, whole and healthy. I don’t know how I can ever thank you enough. If you needed my life in exchange for yours right now, I would give it willingly,” Celine said, grabbing my hand, her voice fervent and emotional. As she spoke their names one by one, the four boys looked at her with such tenderness it was practically pouring from their eyes. My own eyes held a flicker of irony. I gently pulled my hand away. “Don’t worry. I just woke up. Your life is of no use to me.” Their brows furrowed slightly at my words, a hint of displeasure in their expressions. I just looked at them. “In that case… could you perhaps convert that gratitude into cash? A million dollars from each of you would be enough. Is that okay?” They all stared at me, stunned again. “Rory, why would you say something like that the moment you wake up?” my mother said, frowning. “You’re a Rhodes. Do you really think you’ll ever have to worry about money?” “That’s right, Rory,” my father added gently. “The most important thing right now is for you to recover. When you come home, you’ll be the young lady of the house, living a life of luxury. You know that.” Another flash of irony in my eyes. In my dream, I hadn’t cared about these things at first. I never brought up what I did three years ago; it felt too transactional for people who were supposed to be my family. But after I returned home, they used my “bullying” of Celine, my “mistakes,” as an excuse to cut off my allowance, to freeze all my expenses, time and time again. I couldn’t even pay for school activities. They punished me whenever they pleased. My life was miserable. So if I didn’t secure a few million for myself now, the monumental act of saving their lives would soon be erased, canceled out by each and every time I “hurt” their precious Celine. In my dream, that voice had offered to help me, to help me win back the love of my parents, my brother, my friends. I had refused it. I had no desire to fight for such fickle affection. I spoke again. “I was in a coma for three years. I’m eighteen now. I’d like to have some money of my own, so I can buy whatever I want, whenever I want. Just to spend it recklessly for a while. Is that okay?” Hearing this, their expressions softened slightly. “Sister, Mom and Dad gave me some pocket money, it’s almost a million dollars. Why don’t I give it all to you? I’m so happy I can finally do something for the boys!” Celine offered, her face bright with eagerness. “Celine.” Alex shook his head with an amused smile. “We don’t need you to use your allowance.” “What a silly, sweet girl,” Julian said, lightly tapping her on the head. They all smiled and shook their heads. “I just wanted to do something for you guys…” Celine mumbled, sticking out her tongue playfully. My mother hugged her dotingly. In the end, of course, they each gave me a million dollars. And I would make very good use of this four million. I would not end up isolated, helpless, and miserable like I did in the dream. 4 After half a month in the hospital, my body had recovered to a normal state, and I returned to the Rhodes family home. “Rory, look at this room. Celine specially gave it up for you. She even put her favorite little bunny on your nightstand,” my mother said gently, leading me into the room. Gave it up. The phrase was laughable. This was the room I had lived in since I was a child. After being in a coma for three years, I now needed someone else’s permission to live in it. I smiled. “Thank you so much, sister. But since you’re already used to living here, I wouldn’t want to force you out. It’s better if you just find me another room.” My mother paused, seemingly taken aback by my politeness. “It’s okay, sister. This room is the biggest and brightest. It should be yours,” Celine said, stepping forward with a considerate expression. My parents and brother were already accustomed to Celine’s sweet and sensible nature, their gazes soft with affection. I shook my head again. “You’re already settled in. Why should you have to move out just because I’m back? If I took your room like this, Mom, Dad, and Alex would surely blame me for being inconsiderate.” I remembered in my dream, Alex had blamed me, saying Celine was suffering from insomnia and stress after giving up her room for me, yet I was still giving her a hard time. Ha. “So please, just give me another room. Or, I could even stay in the maid’s quarters. Anything is fine, as long as my sister isn’t put out,” I said, pre-empting any future accusations that I was making Celine feel wronged. They all hesitated, sensing something was off about my words but unable to pinpoint what it was. “Sister, I wouldn’t feel wronged at all, I—” “Then you should just stay put. You’re the little sister everyone adores, after all,” I interrupted her. And so, I was given another room. … I was in my new room, studying intently. Celine knocked once, then opened the door without waiting for permission and walked right in. “Sister, you weren’t coming downstairs, so I brought you some fruit.” She smiled, carrying a plate towards me. I glanced at her. “Thanks. Just leave it there.” “Okay.” Celine agreed but walked directly towards me anyway. Then, as if by accident, the fruit plate slipped from her hands. “Ah!” She let out a loud shriek and stumbled backward, falling to the floor. “What’s wrong? What happened?” My father, mother, and brother rushed in. “Oh, Celine!” They hurried over to help the fallen girl. “Sniff… Mom…” Celine threw herself into my mother’s arms, looking panicked and frightened. “I… I was just worried sister was working too hard, I wanted to bring her some fruit…” They looked at the scene and immediately understood what they thought had happened. “Rory, Celine was being thoughtful and brought you fruit. If you didn’t want it, fine, but why did you have to push her like that?” Alex accused, frowning. “Rory, you can’t treat your sister this way! How could you do something like that?” my mother said, cradling Celine with a look of disapproval aimed at me. “Rory, apologize to your sister right now,” my father commanded. From the safety of my mother’s embrace, Celine shot me a triumphant, provocative look. 5 I simply turned my laptop screen towards them, and pressed play on the security footage from my room. They all froze when they saw the video. Celine’s face went pale. She hadn’t expected me to have a camera. “As you can see, I didn’t touch her at all. So I don’t believe an apology is necessary, is it?” I turned to Celine. “But I should probably remind you, sister, to be more careful when you walk next time. Try not to trip over your own feet again.” Celine’s expression shifted again. “I… I was just so nervous. I know sister has been very cold to me, and I know she resents me for staying in this family, for no longer being the only daughter.” “And I know she’s upset that I’m so close with Caleb and the boys, so whenever I see her, I get scared. I’m so afraid of making her angry that I just panicked and fell. Sob…” She buried her face in my mother’s shoulder, crying. “Mom, I’m so scared that sister blames me, that she thinks I’ve stolen everything that was supposed to be hers. That’s why she’s so cold to me…” My mother immediately began patting her back comfortingly. “Don’t think such things. You are our other daughter. How could you have stolen anything from Rory? My love for both of you is the same.” “You silly girl, always overthinking.” Alex shook his head in exasperation, then looked at me. “But Rory, I hope you truly don’t hold these things against Celine. We all love you just the same. You have been far too cold to her.” “Rory, Celine is a very good girl. You can’t be so willful,” my father added, his tone weary, as if everything was always my fault. I was already used to this from my dream—no matter what, as soon as Celine opened her mouth, all blame shifted to me, even moments after I had just been proven innocent. The anger and resentment I once felt had long since vanished. I smiled at them. “Why would Celine think that? I don’t feel like anything has been stolen from me. Unless… does Celine think she’s stolen something from me? I’m just a girl who’s woken up from a three-year coma. I’m still getting reacquainted with everything. That’s why my personality is like this. I’m the same with everyone.” Celine froze, her eyes darting around before she started crying again. “I… I’m just afraid sister doesn’t like me. I know I’m not a real Rhodes, I can’t compare to her…” And so, another ridiculous drama concluded with the Rhodes family comforting the heartbroken Celine. 6 My uncle’s family came to visit. He asked my parents if they were planning a recovery party for me, now that I was out of the woods. It seemed the thought had only just occurred to them, and they quickly agreed it was a great idea. On the morning of the party, Celine appeared at the breakfast table dressed in plain, simple clothes. My parents and brother were shocked and immediately rushed to her side. “Celine, what’s wrong? Why are you dressed like this?” my mother asked anxiously. Celine bit her lip and glanced at me, who was calmly eating breakfast. “Today is sister’s big day. She’s the star of the party. I don’t want to steal her spotlight, so I thought I’d dress simply.” “You foolish child,” my mother said, hugging her tenderly. “Even though today is a party for your sister, it’s a celebration for our whole family. You should look just as beautiful as she does.” “That’s right, Celine. Go change into a pretty dress. We want everyone to see the two beautiful Rhodes sisters,” Alex said with a smile. Celine continued to bite her lip and look at me. “But I’m afraid sister will mind… I don’t want to upset her and cause disharmony in the family…” Alex frowned at me. “Rory, Celine is your sister. You shouldn’t be bothered by things like this. Between sisters, there’s no such thing as stealing the spotlight.” “Exactly, Rory. As the older sister, you can’t think that way. Two sisters living in harmony is what people admire,” my father added disapprovingly. I took a sip of milk and looked at them. “Excuse me, but have I said that I mind anything?” They all froze. “Sister, I really don’t want to steal your spotlight. Please don’t be angry…” Celine said anxiously. Alex’s expression turned sour again as he looked at me. I smiled. “Sister, I hope you’re not overthinking things. I just woke up from a three-year coma, my brain isn’t fully functional yet. I really don’t have the energy to mind anything at all.” Celine paused, feeling as though her efforts were being effortlessly deflected. “As long as Rory doesn’t mind, that’s all that matters. Come on, Celine, let’s go upstairs with Mom and pick out a beautiful dress and some jewelry to match.” My mother gently led her pitiable daughter away. At the hotel ballroom, I looked at myself in the dressing room mirror. My body was thin and pale from the coma, but thankfully, I had almost reached my full height of 5’3” before the accident, so it hadn’t stunted my growth too much. I opened the door and walked out, only to see Celine with Caleb, Julian, and Leo in a small side lounge. “I really didn’t want to wear this dress. I think sister is a little upset, but Mom, Dad, and Alex all insisted…” Celine was saying. “Why would Rory be upset?” “Celine, you can’t always be the one to give in to your sister, you know?” “You should wear what you want to wear. You can’t let others dictate your choices.” They were all cooing over her. “It’s okay. Sister was in a coma for three years because she was saving you all. She’s been a little resentful of me since she woke up, probably because she thinks you’re all too nice to me.” “So I just want to use this opportunity to show her that I won’t compete with her for anything. I will only be grateful to her and serve her.” “Today, my sister will be the most radiant and beautiful one here. I will happily be her green leaf, just a part of the background…” Celine’s voice was so pitiful it could melt stone. “Celine! Don’t be ridiculous. We’re good to you because you deserve it. Rory was in a coma for three years, her mentality is probably still stuck in the past. She was always willful. You must have had a hard time at home.” “It’s true Rory saved us, but she demanded money the day she woke up, as if she was afraid we wouldn’t be grateful. So you don’t have to accommodate her for our sake.” “Even though today is your sister’s party and the focus is on her, you are always our focus, Celine.” I heard their words, let out a soft, contemptuous laugh, and walked away.

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It was my birthday, and my wife, Margaret, was out celebrating. Not with me, of course. She’d taken our son to a party for Leo Vance, a promising protégé from her research lab. I was at home, packing a suitcase and signing the divorce papers that would finally end our charade of a marriage. That’s when I found it, tucked away in a dusty corner of the closet: her old phone. The screen flickered to life, showing a single, unsent draft. A love confession, written to me, from a seventeen-year-old Margaret. I went to delete it without a second thought. Suddenly, new text blinked into existence right below her message. “Who are you?” 1 My eyes widened, and I dropped the phone as if it had burned me. Scrambling for my own phone, I pulled up my message history, scrolling back thirteen years. And there it was, sitting in my inbox just as I remembered it: Margaret’s confession text. Forcing down the wave of panic, I picked the old phone back up. My fingers trembled as I typed. “Who are you trying to confess to?” “Noah Beck.” Seeing my own name sent a jolt through my heart. Was the person on the other end… a seventeen-year-old Margaret? More words appeared, rapid-fire. “Are you a ghost or something? Why are you trying to stop me from sending this?” I took a breath, my mind racing. I typed back. “You don’t need to send it. Because in the future, you’re going to break his heart.” There was a long pause, then a sharp, definitive reply. “Impossible.” Even through the screen, I could picture her perfectly: young, fiery, and full of scorn. The seventeen-year-old Margaret, whose love was a blazing, all-consuming fire, could never imagine the cold, distant woman she would become at thirty. My finger hovered over the keyboard, ready to explain everything, but the front door was thrown open. I shoved the old phone into my pocket and went back to folding my clothes. Margaret stormed in, her eyes scanning the living room frantically. “Noah, have you seen my little box? The small one?” “Noah?” She called my name several times, but I ignored her, focusing on the contents of my suitcase. Finally, she pulled open my bedroom door, just as I was about to walk out. She froze for a second, then her brow furrowed. “You’re packing. Where are you going?” I looked down, avoiding her gaze, and held out the divorce papers. “Margaret,” I said, my voice flat. “Let’s get a divorce.” Her frown deepened. “Is this because of Leo? I told you, if there was anything really going on between us, I would have divorced you myself long ago.” I’d heard the same line at least twenty times. If I hadn’t accidentally seen her phone, I never would have known. The woman I’d shared a bed with for years had been texting her “protégé” Leo every single day for the last five years. They were the “dream team” in the lab, the ones who always ate lunch together in the cafeteria. Everyone knew how close they were. People in their group chat even joked about Leo being her “work husband,” and Margaret would just laugh along. When I confronted her, her eyebrows had shot up in annoyance. “It’s a few jokes, Noah. Do you have to be so dramatic?” I was so tired of hearing it. “You like Leo, don’t you?” I said, my voice devoid of emotion. “Sign the papers, and you can be with him openly.” “Noah Beck! When have I ever said I liked him?” she exploded, snatching the papers from my hand. “And where would you even go after divorcing me? You’re thirty years old! You don’t have a graduate degree. Who’s going to hire you in this market? How the hell are you going to support yourself?” Her words struck me like a sledgehammer. Eight years ago, Margaret and I had both applied for grad school. But that was the year she got pregnant. Her mood swings were intense, and she had cravings at all hours. One night, she wanted strawberries. I went out to find some and got into a car accident, landing me in the hospital for three months. So, that year, only Margaret took the entrance exams. The day she got her acceptance letter, she held me and kissed me for what felt like an eternity. “Noah,” she’d whispered, “you had that accident for me. You gave up your future… I know that. My career is taking off now. Just stay home with the baby, okay? I’ll earn the money. I’ll provide for us.” A lump formed in my throat then, just as it did now. I wanted to argue, but the words wouldn’t come. She ripped the divorce papers to shreds, her furious expression slowly softening. “Noah, I’m going to pretend you were just talking nonsense today. Don’t ever bring this up again.” She turned, then paused. “By the way, where is that box?” I dropped my gaze. “On the cabinet next to the TV.” “Okay.” She found the elegant little box and was about to leave when she stopped at the door. “Wait for me at home. I’ll be back as early as I can to celebrate your birthday.” A bitter, mocking laugh almost escaped my lips. So, she did remember. I’d already found that box yesterday while cleaning. It was a designer watch, the one I’d wanted for ages but never bought because it was far too expensive. My heart had leaped when I opened it, thinking it was a surprise for me. Thinking she was finally trying to make things right. But the card inside read, in her familiar script, “To Leo.” It was all just my own wishful thinking. Her betrayal was the final push I needed. Bzzzt. The old phone in my pocket vibrated. It was a new message, sent from the original number to itself, a trick to create a separate chat log. “Forget it, it’s too late now. I’ll just confess to him next year instead.” I froze, my mind clicking into place. I quickly opened my own phone and found the original confession text from Margaret. The date at the bottom had changed. It no longer said thirteen years ago. It said twelve. A wave of disbelief washed over me. Could the seventeen-year-old Margaret… actually change the present? 2 Another message from her came through. “This way we don’t have to fight over the same text box. So, please, answer me. Who are you?” My eyes darkened. “I am a god,” I typed. “I can see the future.” “I’m a materialist. I don’t believe in gods or ghosts.” Her bluntness made me choke back a laugh. Another message followed immediately. “But I’m willing to listen to your prophecy. What do you know?” If I told her… could it change that day? I raised a hand, my fingers tracing the faint, jagged line on my cheek. It was worth a try. “The day after Noah’s birthday,” I wrote, “a group of bullies will corner him. They’re going to burn his face.” The reply was swift. “Okay. I’ll be watching.” And that was it. Silence. I put the phone away. It was already past midnight. Margaret and our son still weren’t home. Normally, I’d be frantic, calling nonstop, unable to sleep until they walked through the door. Tonight, I just quietly washed up and went to bed. The next morning, the house was still empty. They hadn’t come home at all. I felt nothing. But as I stood in front of the bathroom mirror, I froze. My reflection stared back, and the skin on my cheek—the side that had been marred by a puckered burn scar for thirteen years—was smooth. Perfect. A whole new set of memories flooded my mind, overwhelming and vivid. The day after my seventeenth birthday, the bullies caught me, just like before. But as one of them lunged forward with a lit cigarette, Margaret had appeared out of nowhere, throwing herself in front of me, shielding my face. The past had actually changed. An incredulous laugh escaped me, followed by tears streaming down my face. I fumbled for the old phone. A new message was waiting. “Thank you. I saved him.” Without hesitation, I typed back to the girl who had once been my everything. “Are you willing to save Noah again?” Her reply was instant. “Is he in trouble again? What do I need to do?” “Don’t confess to him. Stay away from him. The farther, the better.” I could almost see her confused, indignant expression. “Why?” “Because if you get together, you will destroy the man he becomes.” She immediately shot back. “Impossible! I love Noah more than anything!” “Today, he scraped his knee, and I ran to the store after class and bought him five different kinds of bandaids.” “That fatso in his class, Duncan, tried to bully him into doing his homework, so I ripped the homework to shreds right in front of him!” “When he has a fever, or a cold, or even a stomachache, my heart feels like it’s going to break!” “There were so many of those thugs today. I’m a girl, and I was terrified, but I still ran in to protect him. I know he’s my entire world. I could never, ever hurt him!” I read her passionate, desperate messages, and the beautiful memories of our youth resurfaced, sharp and painful. The seventeen-year-old Margaret had treated me like a precious treasure. The thirty-year-old Margaret treated me like dirt. The woman who once promised to provide for me now threw it in my face that she was the one supporting me. My gaze fell. “People change.” “Then tell me. Tell me how I hurt him in the future.” My fingers froze over the screen. A thousand moments of cruelty and neglect flashed through my mind, but I didn’t know where to begin. Just then, my phone rang. I answered. “Noah? It’s Amy, from the lab. Margaret’s had a bit too much to drink. She’s at the restaurant where Leo works part-time. Can you come and get her? Your son… he’s here too.” The background was a cacophony of noise, and I could faintly hear the sound of something smashing. A knot of dread tightened in my stomach. “I’m on my way.” As I rushed out the door, Margaret’s question echoed in my head. “Tell me how I hurt him.” I pulled out the old phone, my thumb hovering over the screen. Then I pressed the record button. Alright, Margaret. Get ready to hear what a monster you’ve become. 3 I burst into the restaurant to find Margaret pinning some large man against a table, a furious whirlwind of motion. The scene was chaotic. Chairs were overturned, tables askew, and broken plates littered the floor. As I moved to intervene, her student, Amy, grabbed my arm. “Noah, don’t! You might get hurt.” I frowned. “She never gets violent when she drinks. What happened?” Amy sighed. “A couple of jerks were harassing Leo, trying to force him to drink with them. Margaret just lost it…” Her voice trailed off, and she looked at me guiltily. “Noah, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have… Please don’t be mad.” The seventeen-year-old Margaret would only fight for me. The thirty-year-old Margaret was fighting for another man. I brushed it off. But as my eyes found Margaret again, they widened in horror. Our five-year-old son, Alex, was right beside her, his tiny fists pounding uselessly against the man’s leg. “I’ll get you!” he yelled. “Stop bullying Uncle Leo!” Enraged, the man grabbed a beer bottle from a nearby table and raised it high, ready to bring it down on my son’s head. “NO!” Pure paternal instinct took over. I lunged forward, covering the last few feet in two desperate strides.

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After my mother-in-law died, I gave up, letting the hurricane tear me from the ground. I landed at my husband Jake’s feet—the rescue captain on his way to expose my “lies.” His mother was gone, blood pooling near his boots as his face crumbled. “How… how could this be?” He didn’t know the truth. I had been reborn. In my past life, Souad was pinned under an oak. I called for help, but Jake diverted his team to find his ex’s dog. “Stop the act, Tanya!” he snarled. “A woman like you deserves to be crushed!” I watched Souad die, my hands bloody from trying to lift the trunk. Jake blamed me, letting me and our child die in agony—then started a new life with Zoey. When I opened my eyes, I was back. The day the hurricane hit. … The wind sliced at my skin like a thousand tiny knives. I braced my pregnant belly, my hands clawing at the rough bark of the tree, trying to lift it, trying to save Souad pinned beneath. It was useless, like an ant trying to move a mountain. My hands were already slick with blood, but the trunk wouldn’t budge an inch. Souad, her strength failing, lifted a weak hand and tugged at my pant leg, trying to speak. Her voice was a whisper, lost in the howling gale. Then, an eerie calm descended. The eye of the storm was passing over. I leaned down, pressing my ear to her lips. “My sweet girl,” she rasped, her voice trembling. “You have the baby to think of. Go. Run, find somewhere safe, now!” “After I’m gone, my million dollars, the house… it’s all yours. Find your own happiness, you hear me? I’m so sorry, Tanya. I’m so, so sorry…” Her words dissolved into a wet cough as she choked up a mouthful of blood. Souad had treated me like her own daughter. Even now, her only thought was for my safety. A pain so sharp it stole my breath stabbed through my chest. No matter how many times I had to live this life, I would never abandon her. “Mom, hold on,” I pleaded, my voice cracking. “Jake is the captain of the rescue squad! He’ll be here any minute, he’ll save you!” A flicker of hope ignited in her eyes, but as the words left my mouth, my own heart sank like a stone. I knew better. Last time, Jake never even answered my call. Remembering this, I grabbed Souad’s phone from her pocket and dialed his number. He wouldn’t ignore his own mother’s phone, would he? He picked up on the first ring. “Jake! Mom is trapped under a fallen tree! You have to get over here, we’re on—” “Tanya?” His voice was ice. “How dare you drag my mother into your pathetic little drama?” “It’s not a drama!” I stomped my foot in desperation, my eyes locked on Souad’s whimpering, helpless form. “How could I possibly joke about something like this? We’re on City Hall Avenue—” “Don’t even try it! I know some trees are down over there. You think that makes your story believable? A pathological liar like you is the one who deserves to be crushed!” Just as he finished, a cloyingly sweet voice drifted through the phone. “Jakey, honey, come hold me. I’m so scared.” I recognized it instantly. Zoey. His ex. The absurdity of it all ignited a fire in my gut. “You’d rather stay there fooling around with her than save your own mother? Are you even human, Jake?!” “Don’t be ridiculous, Tanya. You’re the one making false emergency calls! I have to help Zoey secure her windows. Stop calling and bothering me!” He hung up. When I tried to call back, I was blocked. Souad, who had heard everything, closed her eyes in utter despair, two silent tears tracing paths through the dirt on her cheeks. “It’s no use. Go, child. This is my punishment for raising such a heartless son.” I bit my lip, refusing to give up. I dialed the rescue squad’s main dispatch. The dispatcher was one of Jake’s subordinates, a young man named Miller. I quickly explained the situation. His voice was grave. “Ma’am, Mrs. Turner? Please, hang in there. I’m dispatching a unit immediately!” I thanked him, my heart pounding as I began to pace. But ten minutes stretched into an eternity, and the empty road remained empty. No flashing lights, no siren. The wind was already picking up again. Once the eye of the storm passed, the hurricane’s fury would return with a vengeance. Souad wouldn’t survive it. Frantic, I was about to call dispatch again when my phone rang. It was Jake. “Are you insane, Tanya?!” he roared. “Just because you’re my wife doesn’t mean you can abuse emergency resources! Your jealousy has to have a limit!” A sickening premonition washed over me, and my eyes filled with tears. “She’s not going to make it, Jake,” I begged, my voice shaking. “Please, just believe me this one time! If I’m lying, may I drop dead right here! Even if you don’t care about me or the baby, she’s your mother!” There was a brief silence on his end, but then the phone was snatched away. It was Zoey, her voice a broken, tear-choked mess. “Tanya, I know you hate me,” she sobbed, “but Dumpling is like a child to me and Jake! He’s missing! How could you call in a fake emergency and stop the rescue team from looking for him? Every minute he’s out there is another minute of danger! If something happens to him, I… I don’t want to live anymore!” Dumpling. The dog he and Zoey had raised together. The dog he still visited in the middle of the night, even after we were married. The irony was suffocating. When that dog had a cold, Jake was a wreck, fussing over it day and night. When I had a raging fever during my pregnancy, I didn’t even get a single word of concern. All the resentment I had buried came surging to the surface. I was done with Zoey’s performance. “You didn’t leash your dog in the middle of a hurricane? Sounds like you let him out on purpose! Why don’t you check the security cameras or look around your own neighborhood instead of wasting the time of a rescue team that has actual human lives to save?!” Zoey’s sobs escalated into hysterical gasps. Jake’s voice exploded with rage. “A dog is a living creature too! God, Tanya, you’re just a cold, heartless, jealous bitch!” “No matter how heartless I am,” I said, my voice dripping with ice, “I’m not the monster who’d let his own mother die.” That was the spark that lit the fuse. “You bitch! How long are you going to keep up this act? You just had my mom send Zoey a string of hateful messages, and now you’re cursing her to death? What is wrong with you!” he screamed. “Tanya, a soulless monster like you should just hurry up and die!” His words grew viler, uglier. My last shred of hope withered and died. I hung up. Just as I was about to try calling Miller again, a text message came through from him. I’m so sorry, Mrs. Turner. The captain just gave a direct order. All units are being redirected to The Willows apartment complex. The truck that was halfway to you had to turn back. The captain was very specific… that we were to ignore your call. I’m sorry. It’s a critical situation, we can’t afford to waste resources. I looked at Souad, who had passed out from the pain. In a fit of desperate agony, I slammed my fists against the tree trunk, a raw, hopeless scream tearing from my throat. The hurricane roared back to life, its power even more terrifying than before. This time, broken in body and spirit, I had no fight left. I collapsed to the ground, limp and defeated, and let the ferocious wind lift me like a rag doll. It threw me through the air, and I slammed hard against an oncoming vehicle. My head shattered the windshield, and a hot, wet gush of blood erupted from between my legs. In the driver’s seat, I saw him. Jake. One arm was wrapped around Zoey, his eyes wide with an expression of pure, uncomprehending horror. His mouth opened, and I could just make out the shape of the words. “How could—”

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My five-year-old daughter jumped to her death at school. While her teacher frantically called and texted, I calmly turned off my phone and watched a movie. In my past life, I’d rushed there in panic—only to find her lifeless body. The teacher claimed my daughter confessed to enduring long-term beatings before jumping. Even my husband accused me of abuse. Yet I’d cherished her, never raising a hand or voice. When the medical examiner revealed her body—covered in years of bruises—I became society’s monster. My parents were driven to suicide after online harassment bankrupted them. I died in prison, beaten by inmates. I never understood: how could my pampered child have those injuries? Now reborn on the day of her death, I’ll uncover the truth. 1 “Honey, come have breakfast. I learned to make this just for you.” Markus, ever the gentle and attentive husband, brought a tray of breakfast and placed it in front of me. Looking at his familiar, soft smile, a shiver ran down my spine. Markus had married into my family. Since our wedding day, he had been a stay-at-home dad, taking care of me and our daughter, Lily. For years, he had been meticulous and thoughtful, attending to our every need. My friends all said I had found the perfect man, a man as gentle as water. I had believed them. If only, in my last life, he hadn’t stood before a crowd, his eyes blazing with fury, and accused me of being a monster who abused her own child. I never would have known that this mild-mannered man had such a twisted side. “Honey, what are you daydreaming about? Come on, eat up.” Markus waved a hand in front of my face. Suppressing the storm of confusion and rage in my heart, I sat down at the table. Across from me, my daughter was taking small sips of her milk. My eyes instantly turned red. Today was the day. After she finished breakfast and went to school, she would jump from the building. When I arrived, all I would see was her body. I would hold her cold form, crying until I nearly passed out. But her teacher would point at me, telling me to stop my fake tears. I wouldn’t understand. She would declare, with righteous indignation, that my daughter had jumped because of my long-term domestic abuse. That my daughter had even confessed she would rather die than go home. As I was arguing with the teacher, Markus would arrive. I would be filled with hope, expecting him to clear my name. But he would stand before the crowd, his eyes red, and roar at me. “From the day I married into your family, you’ve done nothing but beat and curse me! You never treated me like a human being!” “For Lily’s sake, I endured it all.” “I told you, you can do whatever you want to me, but why did you have to do this to our daughter?” “I begged you countless times! Why did you have to push her to her death?!” His words were daggers, his voice thick with tears. He would list my supposed “atrocities” for all to hear, painting me as a sadistic monster who reveled in cruelty. My desperate explanations would be drowned out by the jeers and curses of the crowd. Then the medical examiner would arrive. He would reveal the dense network of scars covering my daughter’s body. Old injuries and new, a testament to long-term abuse. “Even a tiger won’t eat its own cub! This woman is worse than an animal!” “Someone like her doesn’t deserve a husband or a child! She doesn’t deserve to live!” “Her poor daughter, stuck with such an inhuman monster!” “Letting her live another second is a pollution to the earth!” With the “irrefutable evidence” before them, the insults would rain down. Some people in the crowd would even throw trash and rocks at me, wishing they could kill me on the spot. Amidst the storm of hatred, I would be handcuffed and taken away. In an instant, hashtags like #EvilMother, #VenomousWoman, and #PoorFatherAndDaughter would dominate the internet. I would be subjected to the most vicious online abuse and curses imaginable. My parents, too, would be doxxed. Their company would go bankrupt. They would be trapped in their home, unable to leave without being pelted with filth and screamed at. Eventually, they would die in their home, their bodies left to rot. And I would be tortured to death by my fellow inmates. Even as I died, I never understood. Why would my pampered daughter have a body covered in scars and jump to her death? The pain of my past life was still vivid. This time, I would uncover the truth. 2 I ate my breakfast as usual. When Markus was about to take our daughter to school, I stopped him. “Lily’s hair is a bit messy. Let me brush it for her.” I led my daughter into the bathroom and closed the door. Without a word, I lifted her shirt. Her skin was smooth as jade, without a single bruise. It was a world away from the scarred body of my last life. So, what went wrong? Why, in just a few hours, would her body be covered in injuries, both new and old? “Honey, are you done yet? Lily’s going to be late.” Markus’s voice, accompanied by a knock on the door, pulled me from my thoughts. I opened the door and looked at him. “I’ll take her to school today.” A flicker of confusion crossed his face, quickly replaced by a gentle smile. “Okay, honey. Thank you for doing that.” He turned and began clearing the table without another word. His reaction was so normal, so unremarkable, that it was chilling. The more normal he acted, the more desperate I was to find the truth. On the way to school, I couldn’t help but ask my daughter, “Lily, has anyone at school been bullying you?” She smiled sweetly. “No, Mommy. I’m very popular at school. Everyone likes to play with me.” I paused. “What about your teachers? Are they nice to you?” “My teachers are all very nice! My homeroom teacher even tells me stories and gives me little presents.” Her answers were natural and cheerful, her young face a picture of happiness. I pulled the car over and looked at her seriously. “And what about me? How do you think Mommy treats you?” She looked at me with her clear, wide eyes and answered without hesitation. “Mommy is very nice to me too.” Then she leaned over and gave me a kiss on the cheek. “Lily loves Mommy the most!” I hugged her, saying nothing more, and drove her to the kindergarten. Her teacher was waiting at the gate. “Lily’s mom! What a nice surprise to see you bringing her to school today.” The teacher greeted me with a warm smile, taking Lily’s hand. “It’s a slow day at the office,” I replied, smiling back while subtly observing her. She crouched down, still smiling, and playfully tapped Lily’s nose. “See, Lily? Your mommy loves you so much. She’s so busy with work, but she still made time to bring you to school.” The teacher’s demeanor was friendly and natural. Even the way she looked at my daughter seemed genuine and full of affection. She didn’t seem like a two-faced hypocrite at all. But that only made me more confused. In my last life, I had a decent relationship with this teacher. She was kind, treated my daughter well, and was always smiling. The kids in her class adored her. I had tried to treat her to dinner several times to thank her for taking such good care of Lily, but she always refused, saying it was just her duty as a teacher. In my mind, she was a dedicated, fair, and excellent educator. Yet this same upright and easygoing woman, in just a few hours, would publicly accuse me of being a monster who abused her child. I couldn’t figure out where it all went wrong. 3 There were three hours until my daughter was supposed to jump. But I was still completely in the dark. The thought of my vibrant daughter suddenly becoming a cold corpse made me break out in a cold sweat. In my last life, everything happened so suddenly that I was powerless to stop it. This time, I would not let the tragedy repeat itself. After a brief chat with the teacher, I left. But I didn’t go far. I parked nearby and continued to watch. I stayed in my car even after the school gates closed and classes began, my mind racing. Why, when I had done nothing wrong, did I become a universally condemned monster? Why was my daughter perfectly fine when she left the house, only to be covered in years of old injuries and jump to her death after just a few hours at school? Why did my thoughtful husband and the kind, upright teacher both turn on me at the same time, accusing me of crimes I didn’t commit? The questions swirled in my head, leaving me more and more confused. I knew something was terribly wrong, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. I forced myself to replay the events of my past life, searching for any clue, any thread that might unravel this mystery. After forty minutes of intense concentration, it hit me. A flash of insight. I immediately called my secretary. “I need you to find something out for me. Quickly.” After giving my instructions, I waited in the car, my heart pounding in my chest. I desperately needed to know if I was finally close to the truth. Ten minutes later, he called back with his findings. Listening to his report, my hand holding the phone began to shake uncontrollably. It was just as I suspected. “I need you to do something for me,” I said, my voice firm. “As fast as possible. Spare no expense. And remember, don’t tell anyone.” After hanging up, I drove away from the school. Two hours later, the teacher’s calls began. One after another, frantic and insistent. When I didn’t answer, she started sending texts. “Lily’s mom, something terrible has happened! Your daughter jumped from the school building! You need to get here right away!” “Lily’s mom, why aren’t you answering your phone? Please come to the school as soon as you see this!” The urgent messages kept coming. I simply turned off my phone and went back to watching the movie I had started in the company lounge. Half an hour later, the movie ended. I turned my phone back on to find every major social media platform flooded with curses and insults directed at me. Many people were live-streaming. From the kindergarten. In the video, Lily’s teacher was weeping, her voice thick with heartbreak. “Lily was always such a good girl. All the kids and teachers at school loved her. I just don’t understand how her mother could do this to her, beat her so badly.” “Once, Lily cried to me, saying she would rather die than go home. I thought she was joking. I never thought she would actually jump.” “She was only five years old! How much suffering must she have endured to choose this path?” “I’ve called her mother a dozen times, and she won’t answer. She won’t reply to my texts. It’s as if her daughter’s death means nothing to her. How can there be such a cold, heartless mother in this world?” The teacher then played a video on her phone. In the video, my daughter spoke in a small, timid voice. “Miss Davis, you can have all the candy in my backpack. Please, just don’t make me go home. My mommy hits me every day. I’m so scared of her. I don’t want to go home.” Her eyes were filled with tears, her face a mask of terror. The sight made the teacher herself break down, covering her face as she sobbed. The live-stream’s popularity skyrocketed. The comments were a torrent of grief for my daughter and vile hatred for me. Markus was there too, clutching our daughter’s body, wailing for the cameras. “Sophia’s family is rich, and she always looked down on me for marrying into it! At home, she was a tyrant! The slightest thing would set her off, and she would beat me and Lily! She never treated us like human beings!” He rolled up his sleeves, showing the bruises on his arms to the camera. “I tried to divorce her, but she threatened that I would never see Lily again. I couldn’t bear to leave my daughter, so I endured it. But I never imagined she would drive Lily to suicide! I regret it so much! Why did I ever marry such a venomous, cold-hearted monster!” Just like in my past life, Markus delivered a heart-wrenching performance, his pain and grief palpable. The audience was enraged. “Oh my god, how can such a disgusting woman exist?” “She doesn’t even deserve to be called human! Her parents must be trash too, to raise a monster like her! I hope they all die a horrible death!” “I’m shaking with anger! Someone please do us all a favor and get rid of her! My keyboard can’t do enough damage!” The internet mob was in a frenzy, all of them seemingly desperate to see me destroyed. The power of public condemnation was terrifying. In my last life, faced with my daughter’s body, my husband’s betrayal, and the entire internet’s hatred, my spirit had been crushed. I was defenseless, unjustly imprisoned, and tortured to death. Even my parents had been dragged down with me. But this time, as the same scene played out, as the curses and insults flooded my screen, I felt no turmoil. Instead, I felt a thrilling sense of vengeance. I put away my phone and drove to the kindergarten. Seeing the massive crowd surrounding the scene, a small smile played on my lips. The show was about to begin.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “393461”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel