Category: English

“If I could choose, I’d pick Amber to be my sister-in-law.” My boyfriend’s sister, Brianna, shot me a defiant look as she said it, topping it off with a dramatic eye-roll. Everyone tensed, expecting fireworks. They were all waiting for the legendary showdown between the future sisters-in-law. But instead, I smiled and voiced my agreement. Then, I announced our breakup on the spot. My boyfriend, Brandon, told me I was being ridiculous. But when I packed my bag and left the campsite in the middle of the night, he saw me. He didn’t try to stop me. Instead, he turned to comfort that girl, Amber. “I’m so sorry,” he said to her. “That must have been so awkward for you. I apologize on Zoe’s behalf.” I wasn’t sad. Not at all. In fact, my heart was soaring with anticipation. This time, in the car crash on the way back, I wouldn’t be there to lose the use of my right arm saving Brianna, only to be despised by her entire family for it. Without me to save her, would Brianna even survive? I was eager to find out. 01 In my last life, Brianna had humiliated me in the exact same way. My response then had been to throw a full glass of beer in her face. The fight that followed was spectacular. A real glimpse into our future sisterly bond. Brandon, my boyfriend, had immediately taken her side, shielding both his sister and her best friend, Amber. I might have won the physical fight—yanking out a fistful of Brianna’s hair and landing a solid kick on the perpetually smirking Amber—but I had lost all face. Even so, I didn’t leave that night. Because Brandon wasn’t just my boyfriend; he was also my boss. I was afraid that if I pushed things too far, I’d lose my job along with my relationship. I was just another transplant in the sprawling city of Havenport, a girl from a smaller town with a replaceable job as an executive assistant. With my liberal arts degree from a good-but-not-great state school, finding another job in Havenport’s brutal market would be a nightmare. And my parents, who had poured all their hopes into me, would never accept me moving back to my hometown of Maple Creek. As they always said, Maple Creek was a town where you needed connections to get by, and their small, struggling tailor shop gave them none. They told me that if I couldn’t make it in Havenport after getting my degree there, it would be a source of shame for them, a reason for the neighbors to laugh. In my last life, I spent that whole night huddled in a dark corner of the campsite, miserable and alone. Brandon never came to find me. The next morning, after the sunrise, I swallowed my pride, reappeared, and successfully fought off Amber to reclaim the front passenger seat. My plan was simple and brutal: until I found a new job, I had to cling to my status as Brandon’s girlfriend. On the drive back, our car swerved to avoid a truck and flipped. Brianna and I were both on the right side of the car. We were both flung out, left dangling over the edge of a cliff. She had managed to grab a small, flimsy branch, while I was clinging to the main trunk of a tree. When her branch started to splinter, I pushed aside all our past grievances and, without a second thought, used my right arm to grab her, holding on for dear life. Brandon and Amber were still in the car, but Brandon was too busy fussing over a tiny scratch on Amber’s head to even notice we were about to die. I held on, my arm screaming in protest, until other drivers stopped and worked together to pull us up. In the end, Brianna was completely unharmed. But my right arm, starved of blood for so long, was permanently damaged. The media praised my heroic act. Brandon’s company was in a critical pre-IPO stage, so to save face, the family had him marry me. Brianna was not grateful. Instead, she accused me of using my “heroism” to trap her brother, ruining his bright future. She and Amber even moved into our home, claiming it was closer to their university. It was clear she wouldn’t rest until Amber was in Brandon’s bed. We had another fight. I only had one good arm, but Brandon didn’t help me. He just called me petty and intolerant for not getting along with his own sister. Then he turned to Amber, his voice dripping with gentle concern. “I’m so sorry you had to see that. This is my house. You and my sister can stay as long as you like. Don’t listen to anyone else.” When my in-laws heard, they rushed over to support their darling daughter. My father-in-law slammed his fist on the table. “This house belongs to the White family! My daughter can live here if she wants to! What right do you, an outsider, have to say anything?” My mother-in-law rolled her eyes. “We already allowed Brandon to marry you. What more do you want? Don’t think you can boss us around for the rest of your life just because you saved our daughter once. You don’t run this house!” Brianna twisted the knife. “Mom, Dad, you’re too kind! That arm of hers was probably useless before she even ‘saved’ me. She just found the perfect opportunity to blame it on our family.” I laughed, a bitter, broken sound. “So, you’re angry that I saved you?” Brianna puffed out her chest, oozing confidence. “Of course! If you hadn’t grabbed me, I would have swung over and grabbed the main trunk myself.” She paused, then pushed Amber forward. “Besides, if you had just given the front seat to Amber, who gets carsick, she would have been able to grab me. Neither of us would have fallen out in the first place.” Finally, she delivered her verdict. “Amber is way smarter than you. She’s the one who should be my sister-in-law!” I turned to Brandon, who had been silent the whole time. “Is that what you think, too?” He didn’t answer directly, just rubbed his temples in frustration. “Zoe, that’s enough! My sister brought a friend to stay, is it really that big of a deal? When are you going to stop this drama? If you can’t handle it, then get a divorce and get out!” The last sliver of hope I had for a shred of comfort from him turned to ice. As if on cue, Brianna clapped her hands. “Yes, divorce! Get a divorce right now! I’m so glad you’ve finally come to your senses, brother!” She shoved Amber into his arms. “You two are perfect for each other! Maybe you can even give me a nephew tonight!” Brandon didn’t pull away. Amber burrowed into his chest and offered me a saccharine apology. “Zoe, I’m so sorry. Brianna is just joking.” For a second, I thought that despite her scheming, she had a shred of decency left. Then her tone shifted. “But, Zoe, let’s be real. You need to stop holding this ‘I saved her life’ thing over everyone’s heads. You already got the man. You should be focused on making him happy, not turning his home into a warzone. It’s heartbreaking to see him looking so drained all the time. You can only cash in on a debt of gratitude once. You can’t hold him hostage with it forever, can you?” Mr. and Mrs. White nodded vigorously, agreeing that I was an ungrateful troublemaker. With my crippled arm, I couldn’t even find a job, yet I refused to obediently serve my husband. Their son was the unluckiest man alive to have married me. It was five mouths against one. Finally, I lost control. I charged into the kitchen and came back with a butcher knife… My mind was a chaotic blur. All I remember now, after being reborn, is that in the end, I was the only one left standing. 02 The first words I heard in my new life were Brianna’s: she wished Amber was her sister-in-law. The righteous fury from my past life was gone. In its place was a genuine desire to grant her wish. I clapped my hands with a smile. “I second that!” To show my sincerity, I stood up. “Effective immediately, Brandon White and I are no longer in a relationship. For the rest of our lives, our paths will not cross—not for weddings, not for funerals, not for anything.” Brianna’s eyes lit up. “Let’s see you stick to that!” I nodded solemnly and raised three fingers. “If I don’t, may I be struck by lightning, hit by a car, and choke to death on a glass of water.” Brandon frowned, hissing at me under his breath. “Zoe, stop being ridiculous. Don’t sink to her level.” He was speaking to me, but his eyes were darting toward Amber, gauging her reaction. Amber just smiled and pinched Brianna’s arm. “Alright, Brianna, look what you did. You’ve cornered Zoe and left her with no way out.” “What way out does she need?” Brianna scoffed. “She’s just some country bumpkin. She doesn’t deserve our respect.” I was desperate to escape these toxic people, but I wasn’t going to crawl away with my tail between my legs. So, just like last time, I threw a glass of beer in Brianna’s face. Except this time, I didn’t just stand there waiting for her to retaliate. I moved first, grabbing a fistful of her hair from behind and yanking her head back, immobilizing her. Amber must have thought I was still the same impulsive but ultimately submissive Zoe from before. She rushed forward to help her friend, but a swift kick sent her sprawling to the ground. In my past life, I could take down a group of people with a knife in one hand. Now, with two perfectly good arms and legs, dealing with a two-faced schemer who wasn’t even fighting back seriously was child’s play. Brandon started to move toward me, but I stopped him with a sharp threat. “You’d better not move. Otherwise, I can’t guarantee what might slip out of my mouth.” Brandon had a secret. To secure funding for his company, he’d been drugged by a male investor. It never went all the way, but there was a video. I was the one who got him out of that situation; it was how we met. He pursued me, claiming he was grateful for my kindness, but I knew the real reason was to keep me quiet. Of course, my looks were a major factor too. If I weren’t so hung up on him, his financial status at the time wouldn’t have even qualified him to be my boyfriend. That video was his deepest, darkest secret, something he would rather die than have exposed. He suspected I had a copy, so my words froze him in his tracks. His friends, who lived by the rule of not getting involved, had already backed away. Amber, who had been so smug just moments before, was now cowering behind Brandon like a frightened quail. As long as I wasn’t afraid to die, everyone else was. My entire demeanor was a world away from the last time. Brianna’s scalp was on fire, and she was wailing in pain. I kicked the back of her knees, forcing her to kneel before me. “I’m just curious,” I said, my voice dangerously calm. “A person who barely scored a combined 150 on her college entrance exams—do you even know how to spell the word ‘country’?”

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Every time my fiancé, Julian Blackwood, was reassigned to a new post, he demanded I travel ahead to prepare everything. Not for our future, but for the comfort of his mentor’s daughter, Lillian Vale. This time, Julian was demoted to a remote outpost in the Dakota Territories. He urgently ordered me to pack up my small bakery and take a riverboat west. Perhaps he rushed me too much, or perhaps my fever from a lingering cold clouded my mind. Halfway through the journey, I realized I was on the wrong boat. “Miss, this boat is headed for New Orleans, not the Dakotas,” the captain said gently. The captain, a kind man, offered to drop me at the next port so I could catch the right vessel. I stared at the misty river for a long time before finally speaking. “No need. New Orleans will do just fine.” Chapter 1 When the captain told me I was on the wrong boat, I was still reading the letter Julian had shoved into my hands before he left. Just like always, it was three full pages of instructions. But not for me. For Lillian Vale, the daughter of his disgraced mentor. Autumn is approaching. I hear the Dakotas are damp and prone to snakes. Purchase snake repellent. Lillian is frail; ensure the house faces south to catch the sun. Lillian fears the cold. Place extra coal braziers in her room and buy only the finest anthracite. The local food is too spicy for her delicate stomach. Find a cook who specializes in mild, refined cuisine. Lillian loves poetry and flowers. Plant a garden for her, but avoid gaudy peonies. She prefers chrysanthemums, plum blossoms, and orchids. Lillian dislikes uneducated servants. Find maids who can read and write. Lillian has been melancholy lately. See if there is a local opera troupe to entertain her. Lillian’s skin is sensitive. Buy several yards of the softest silk for her new dresses. … Lillian, Lillian, everything was about Lillian. I flipped to the end, hoping to find my name even once. I didn’t. My head throbbed from the fever, and the dense handwriting made my eyes ache. I should have been used to this. It wasn’t the first time. Lillian Vale was the daughter of Julian’s mentor, a once-powerful Senator who had been the Vice President’s closest advisor. But two years ago, a scandal involving embezzlement and treason rocked Washington. The Vice President was forced to resign, and the Senator, pleading his case too strongly, was stripped of his titles and influence. The once-glamorous Vale estate became a place to avoid. The Senator died of a broken heart shortly after, leaving Lillian alone. Julian, ever the loyal student, defied the political winds and took Lillian in, caring for her with a devotion that bordered on obsession. He told me he could never repay his mentor’s kindness. He had to care for Lillian until she found a suitable husband. So our wedding was postponed. Again and again. From Washington D.C. to Ohio, then to Missouri, and now to the Dakotas. Each demotion was because of her, yet he never worried about his career or me, his fiancée. He only worried if Lillian was comfortable. He always made me travel ahead to prepare the way. He said Lillian was a delicate flower, raised in luxury, so she had to travel slowly in a cushioned carriage. The first time I traveled by boat to prepare a home for them, I was violently seasick for weeks. I nearly died. When Julian found out, he offered a few words of comfort before immediately asking if Lillian’s room was ready. That time, I dragged my sick body around for a month to create a perfect sanctuary. When Lillian finally arrived, she glanced at my handiwork and sniffed, “Thank you, Sarah. It’s… livable, I suppose.” Just that one sentence made Julian’s face fall. He didn’t scold me, but from then on, his instructions regarding Lillian became more detailed, more demanding. Chapter 2 “Miss?” The captain’s voice brought me back. I asked how far the Dakotas were. Julian’s list was long; it would take weeks to fulfill. But maybe because he rushed me, or maybe the fever had addled my brain, I had boarded the wrong boat. “This boat is going to New Orleans,” the captain repeated. Panic flared for a second. The captain saw my pale face and assumed I was in trouble. “Don’t worry, miss. With the current, we’re making good time. I can drop you off, and you’ll only be delayed five or six days.” I watched a seagull skim the water and disappear into the gray sky. My hand tightened around the letter. I stared blankly until my eyes focused on the very last line of the letter. Thank you for your hard work, sister. Julian. That was the only line addressed to me. Julian always called me “sister” when he needed something. I pulled the marriage contract from my bag and ran my finger over the signatures. Two hearts united, a vow for eternity… Signed, Julian Blackwood – Sarah. He wrote this after passing the Bar exam with top honors. Back then, he was radiant. “Sarah,” he said, eyes shining, “I will never let you down.” The Blackwoods were once wealthy merchants, and I was a servant girl bought by Mrs. Blackwood. My gambling father had planned to sell me to a brothel. Mrs. Blackwood saved me and assigned me to eight-year-old Julian. But tragedy struck. Mr. Blackwood was killed by bandits during a trade run, and the family fortune was lost. Mrs. Blackwood fell ill, and the servants were dismissed. I stayed. She had saved my life; I owed her mine. For years, it was just the three of us. I took in washing, did embroidery, my hands raw and cracked from the cold water. Later, a kind bakery owner taught me to make pastries, and I opened a small stall. That’s how I supported Julian through school. When Mrs. Blackwood died, she made Julian kneel and swear he would never abandon me. From then on, it was just us. He started calling me “sister,” terrified I would leave him. “Sister, I’ll become a great man,” he promised, tears in his eyes. “I’ll marry you properly and you’ll never suffer again.” I thought it was just a child’s promise. But the day he passed the Bar, he rode home on a high horse, holding the marriage contract. “I’m here to marry you, Sarah.” My heart surrendered then and there. But then Lillian appeared. The first time we met her, she was reading under a peach tree at the Senator’s estate. A breeze blew petals onto her book. She brushed them away and smiled at us. That smile stole Julian’s heart. He started visiting the Vale estate constantly. He forgot to bring me chestnut cakes. He forgot to teach me to read. He forgot my birthday. He forgot the marriage contract. When Lillian asked who I was, he said casually, “She’s a maid my mother left me.” Chapter 3 “Miss?” The captain called again. A gust of wind snatched the marriage contract from my hand. It danced in the air before landing on the water and sinking into the dark river. “Your paper!” the captain cried. “I don’t have a net…” I didn’t move. I watched the spot where it vanished. “No need,” I said softly. “Just go to New Orleans.” “But your paper…” “It wasn’t important. Let it go.” I wasn’t going to the Dakotas. I wasn’t waiting for Julian anymore. I threw Julian’s three-page letter into the boat’s furnace. The fine paper burned in an instant. The captain didn’t ask further questions. He handed me a cup of hot tea. “New Orleans is a good place,” he said. “Better than the Dakotas.” I smiled but said nothing. My heart felt incredibly calm, like a thousand-pound weight had been lifted. The boat traveled for another week. When we arrived in New Orleans, the weather cleared, revealing a vibrant, bustling city. It was a wealthy place. Perhaps because my mood had lifted, my cold was gone. I paid the captain and walked onto the dock with a light step. I didn’t have much money. Julian’s salary had barely covered his lavish spending on Lillian; my bakery earnings had subsidized everything. But years of managing his household had taught me how to stretch a dollar. I rented a small, cheap courtyard in a decent location and set up my bakery again. My pastries were good—soft, sweet, and comforting. In Washington, I used to sell out early every day. Julian had once stopped me from selling pastries after he became an official, saying it was beneath us. But when money got tight with Lillian around, he suggested I start again. “You’re used to being busy,” he said. “I worry you’ll be bored.” Now I realize he wasn’t worried about me. He was worried Lillian would have to live frugally. To him, Lillian was jade, and I was just a stone. I shook my head and served a bowl of warm tofu pudding to a customer. It was all in the past. Now, I lived for myself. I planned to save money, buy a small house, plant a garden, maybe raise some chickens. If I had extra, I’d travel. I had been blind before. Julian was never meant for a village girl like me. I had repaid Mrs. Blackwood’s kindness for ten years. It was enough. Julian and I were even. Chapter 4 The carriage journey took a month. Lillian couldn’t handle the bumps, so they stopped constantly. Julian calculated the time, figuring I should have arrived in the Dakotas by now. But he felt uneasy. Usually, I would send a letter upon arrival to report that everything was ready. This time, no letter came. Julian began to worry. Had something happened to me? “Lillian, Sarah hasn’t written. I’m worried. Should we pick up the pace?” Lillian coughed weakly, her face pale. “It’s my fault. My weak body is delaying us. Julian, go ahead. Find Sarah. It’s not safe for a woman alone.” She coughed again, looking like she might faint. Julian panicked. “No, no. You can’t handle the rush. Sarah has always been fine before. She probably just forgot to write because she’s busy. We’ll rest a few more days.” Lillian’s eyes filled with tears. “I’m such a burden. I make Sarah work so hard. sometimes I think I should just die…” Julian held her, forgetting all propriety. “Don’t say that. The Senator would be heartbroken. I will never abandon you.” He sat down to write another letter, this time filled with annoyance at me. Sarah, if you are in the Dakotas, write back immediately. Lillian is worried sick and blaming herself. Don’t play games and make us worry. The weather is getting cold, and Lillian’s cough is back. Make some pear syrup and buy a fox fur coat for her… He wrote four or five pages. At the end, looking at the pages filled with Lillian’s name, he felt a twinge of guilt. He remembered how pale I looked the day he sent me away. He added a line: Is your cold better? Sister. But it looked awkward. He crumpled the paper and started a new sheet. He wrote only eight words: Thank you for your hard work, sister. Julian.

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The autistic boy in my class was being bullied. I saw his inner thoughts floating above his head: [These people are so loud. I hate it.] I went over to help him, only to realize he had been secretly watching me the whole time. The thought bubble above his head changed: [Doll. Pretty. Want to kiss.] The next second, he leaned in and kissed me. Chapter 1 Freshman year at State, a boy in my class caught my attention. His name was Charlie Star. Broad shoulders, narrow waist, clean-cut, and beautiful. His grades were freakishly good. But he always kept his head down, sketching in his notebook, never speaking to anyone. Before long, his reputation as the “aloof genius” spread across campus. Only I knew the truth. It wasn’t arrogance. I could see his thoughts. They appeared as text bubbles floating right above his head. His inner world was rich and colorful. He was the cutest boy I’d ever seen. He was… an angel from the stars. Yes, he was on the autism spectrum. Eventually, the secret couldn’t be kept. During a break, a group of frat guys surrounded Charlie, laughing nastily. One of them held a Mountain Dew bottle filled with a suspicious yellow liquid, taunting him. “Hey, bought you a soda. Drink up.” “If you don’t drink it, you’re disrespecting the brotherhood.” They pressured him, their eyes full of malice. Charlie buried his head lower, his fingers gripping his pencil, bending and unbending unconsciously. Brad, the leader with the bleached hair, roughly snatched the sketchbook from Charlie’s desk. He held it up high and whistled. “Damn, bro. You spend all class thinking about girls?” I glanced over. It wasn’t a girl. It was a drawing of a porcelain doll. The guys chimed in, sneering. “You like the doll type? Got a blow-up one at home? Lemme borrow it for a few days.” “Even retards know how to get off?” “Were you touching yourself under the desk? Stand up, let’s see if your pants are wet.” The vile comments came in waves. Charlie shrank back against the wall, twisting the pencil in his hand, silent. Seeing this, Brad laughed. “Hey! He’s not just stupid, he’s a mute too!” Charlie still didn’t react. “Tsk.” Brad tossed the bottle to his lackey, lit a cigarette, and said impatiently: “Go on, feed him. That’s daddy’s special brew. Make sure he drinks every drop.” I frowned, hearing the whispers from nearby students. “That’s Brad, right? His family has money, so he thinks he owns the place.” “Yeah, I saw him in the bathroom filling that bottle. It’s pee.” “Ugh, that’s disgusting.” Brad squinted, blowing smoke rings, basking in the attention. He sat on the edge of the desk, one foot planted on the surface, smiling wickedly at the room. “Ladies, did you know your icy campus heartthrob is autistic?” He flicked his ash onto the clean floor and sneered. “Autistic basically just means retard.” The room erupted in whispers. Charlie usually kept to himself, so no one noticed. But now, seeing him cowering and mute, he clearly didn’t look neurotypical. The looks directed at Charlie changed. “It might be true. Avoiding eye contact, not responding… those are symptoms.” “There was an autistic kid in my neighborhood who pushed his mom down the stairs. It was terrifying.” “I saw one on the subway once, screaming and hitting himself. Scared me to death.” “Holy crap. I don’t want to be in the same class as him.” “If he’s sick, he should be in an institution. Why is the school hiding this? Are they trying to get us killed?” The noise grew louder. Brad chin-lifted, gesturing for silence with his palm down. “Relax. I’m teaching him a lesson for you.” “Don’t fall in love with me for saving the day, ladies.” Brad tossed his cigarette butt on the floor and kicked his lackey. “Feed him! What are you waiting for?” The lackey flinched. “Brad, if I get one more strike, I’m expelled. Can’t Mike do it?” Mike kicked him back. “Didn’t you hear Brad? We’re doing a public service. Don’t be a wuss.” I looked down at the glowing cherry of the cigarette butt near my foot and laughed. Public service? Removing a pest? I stepped forward, picked up the burning cigarette, and walked toward Brad. Chapter 2 The bottle was open. The sharp smell of ammonia filled the classroom. The opening of the bottle inched closer to Charlie. The thoughts above his head flashed rapidly: [I hate this!] [So loud!] [Must hold it in. Can’t hit people.] [Can’t scream.] [Can’t…] I stood in front of Brad and spoke calmly. “Campus security is on the way.” He paused, then raged. “Did you snitch?” I didn’t answer. I snatched the bottle of urine and, without hesitation, dumped it onto Brad’s lap. The liquid soaked his jeans, dripping down his legs to the floor. It looked like he’d wet himself. Brad stood there, stunned, before the blood rushed to his face. He looked like an angry pig. “You b*tch!” He raised his leg to kick me in the chest. I dodged the kick and the flying droplets easily. I grabbed his arm, twisted it behind his back, and slammed his face onto the desk. I held the burning cigarette less than an inch from his eyeball. Brad actually peed himself this time. Out of fear. The sound of dripping liquid made the girls nearby cover their eyes and mouths. Brad was trembling, begging me to let go, terrified for his eye. His lackeys surrounded me, threatening me to release him. I ignored them and shoved the empty soda bottle into Brad’s hand. “Every drop. Understand?” “Yeah, yeah… I get it…” I loosened my grip. Brad tried to fight back, but I slammed him down again. I twisted his arm until he screamed. “Ow! Easy… I’ll drink it, I’ll drink it!” He squeezed his eyes shut, about to drink. Just then, the Dean of Students burst in. “What is going on here?!” I let go, looking innocent. “Professor, I was just treating him to a soda.” Brad’s eyes were bloodshot. He gritted his teeth. “Soda my ass, that was—” “That was what?” I glanced at him coldly. Brad looked at the crowd, then at Charlie cowering in the corner. He ground his teeth so hard I thought they’d crack. He had to swallow it. “Nothing, sir. We were just… playing a game.” The Dean’s face softened slightly. He gave a vague lecture and let it go. Brad wasn’t afraid of the Dean, but he didn’t want his dad to find out. He glared at me. “Sierra Quinn. We’ll play again sometime.” He emphasized the word “play.” I didn’t even look at him. The bell rang. The next class was an elective in the building next door. Charlie and I didn’t have that class, so we could leave. I looked at Charlie. “You coming?” He stared at me blankly, stealing glances. Weirdly, I read a sense of shyness in his eyes. I pointed at his sketchbook. “You like dolls?” He didn’t answer, but his eyes lit up. A sentence floated above his head: [Doll. Like. Want to kiss.] Suddenly, a warm sensation brushed my cheek. I touched the lingering warmth and looked at him. The corner of his mouth was tiliting up. “Why did you kiss me? Because I look like a doll?” He nodded, then shook his head, looking conflicted. He tentatively reached out and touched my wrist bone, his smile shy and sweet. I pulled my hand back. “You know, kissing someone without consent is assault. I could call the cops.” Charlie gripped his pencil tight, looking terrified. “Don’t arrest me.” “So what do we do? You took advantage of me.” Charlie thought for a long time, then looked at my lips. “You kiss me. Then it’s fair.” “You mean… I kiss you, and we’re even?” He nodded, eyes pure. “You wish.” I rolled my eyes, went back to my seat, packed my bag, and left. He followed me like a little puppy. I turned around to warn him off. His phone rang. It was his mom. He listened for a moment. “Okay, Mom.” I raised an eyebrow. “Your mom calling you home?” “Mmhmm.” “Then go.” “…Oh.” He looked aggrieved, glancing at me like he wanted to say something. Multiple sentences floated above his head: [Why is Doll being mean… Why won’t she kiss me? Does she not like me…] I stayed silent for a moment, but couldn’t help myself. “My name is Sierra. Not Doll. Got it?” “Si… err… a.” Charlie wrote my name in his sketchbook, pressing his lips together to hide a smile. “Got it.” “Okay, go home.” I knew he lived off-campus. The sky was turning black; a storm was coming. If something happened to him, I’d feel responsible. “…Oh.” He said “Oh” but didn’t move. His eyes were locked on my lips, waiting. “I’m not kissing you. Leave or don’t, I don’t care.” I walked around him and strode away. Behind me, his lonely figure grew smaller. Charlie looked like he was about to cry. He couldn’t understand why I wouldn’t kiss him. The books said reciprocity is a virtue. Doll wasn’t polite at all. But he still liked her so much. Chapter 3 I drove off campus and found a cafe to work on my term paper. By the time I finished, it had been raining for over half an hour. Outside, the sky was as dark as midnight. Lightning flashed, and for some reason, Charlie’s clean, beautiful face popped into my mind. My phone buzzed. I unlocked it. My roommate, Snow, had sent me a link. [Sierra, look at this.] The post title was: Is this the autistic genius of State U? I clicked it. It was a photo of Charlie. He was hugging his sketchbook tightly, standing on the curb in the pouring rain. In front of him were orange construction cones and a sign: “Road Work Ahead. Please Detour.” The comments were a mix of cruelty and thirst. “Is that the Rain Man kid?” “I’m there right now. He’s like a lost dog. Can’t even walk around a cone. Been standing there for 30 mins.” “I offered him an umbrella and he ignored me. Let him soak.” “Holy crap, he’s hot though! Even wet he looks like a model.” “I can fix him.” “Go bring him an umbrella then!” “Your priority should be deleting Wattpad, girl.” … I looked at the torrential rain outside. I sighed, grabbed my bag and keys, and ran out. One symptom of autism is rigid behavior. Repeating actions, obsession with specific objects, needing fixed routes. Because of the construction, his route home was broken. Charlie didn’t know how to get home. I drove there and saw him, soaked to the bone, being pointed at by strangers. He stood there, spinning the pencil in his fingers, his expression blank. But I knew he was terrified. He just couldn’t express it or ask for help. He could only spin the pencil to channel his anxiety. Lightning split the sky again. “Is he stupid? I asked if he needed help and he ignored me.” “Is this performance art? I don’t get it.” “Poor guy.” “He’s so beautiful. Like a statue.” “His eyes are so clean. Like a human with no additives.” I walked up to him through the gossip and looked up. “Did you bring an umbrella?” Charlie saw me, and his eyes lit up. “Doll.” I glared at him. He corrected himself timidly. “Sierra.” “Did you bring an umbrella?” I repeated. Charlie looked at my open umbrella with a pout. “Yes.” Was he upset I wasn’t sharing mine? Give a man a fish, teach a man to fish. “Take it out. Open it. Hold it up like me.” He listened and did exactly as I said. “Why aren’t you going home?” Charlie pointed at the cones, his voice wobbling. “Can’t pass, Sierra.” “Don’t cry. I’ll take you.” I held out my hand. Charlie hesitated, then gently pinched my sleeve with two fingers, smiling shyly. In the car, I gave him a blanket. “Can you put on your seatbelt?” Charlie shook his head slowly. I leaned over to grab the belt. “Where do you live?” He gripped his pencil tight, his ears turning bright red, holding his breath. I looked at him weirdly. “What’s wrong?” “Too… too close,” he stammered. I froze, quickly clicked the belt, and pulled back. “Breathe. You’re gonna pass out.” He took small gasps of air and recited an address. It wasn’t far. Just a couple of turns. Looking at his soaked clothes, I asked, “Is anyone home?” “Mom said she’s not coming home tonight.” I nodded. “What about your dad?” “No dad.” “Oh.” Single-parent household. I took him up the elevator. Watching him type his passcode with zero cover, I scolded him. “Don’t type your code in front of strangers. It’s dangerous.” Charlie blurted out: “Sierra isn’t a stranger. She’s the person I like.” I followed him inside, looking around. “Do you say ‘I like you’ to everyone you see?” Charlie looked at me with pure eyes, then looked away, shy. “No. Only like Sierra.” My heart twitched. “Your mom would be sad to hear that. She worked hard to raise you.” Charlie seemed confused. “Like Mom too.” “You just said you only like me. Liar.” Charlie didn’t know how to explain that it was a different kind of like. Unable to form the sentences, tears welled up in his eyes. “Don’t cry. Hold it in or I’m leaving.” Hearing my threat, he stopped immediately, spinning his pencil furiously to calm down. I softened my tone. “Go get clothes and shower. You’ll get sick.” “Can you shower by yourself?” He nodded and went to get clothes. But he hovered at the bathroom door. I glanced at his thought bubble. [Scared she’ll leave.] “I’m not leaving. Go.” He finally went in. I scrolled through TikTok, bored. Eventually, the sound of water distracted me. “Sierra, I’m done.” Charlie came out towel-drying his hair. A drop of water rolled down his neck into his collarbone. Without thinking, I asked, “Do you have abs?” He looked at me blankly, looked down at his stomach, and smiled shyly. “Yes. Want to see?” He reached for the hem of his shirt. His eyes were so innocent it felt like a crime to look. I closed my eyes. “Don’t flirt. I’m not looking.” “Oh.” He sounded disappointed. I pointed to a photo on the shelf. “You really like that doll?” In the photo, a teenage Charlie was holding a porcelain doll. The doll had a rose pinned to its chest. Charlie smiled. “Like.” Suddenly, his phone rang. FaceTime from Mom. He answered. His mom saw me in the background and gasped. “Charlie? Is that a friend?” Charlie hesitated. Silence. The silence was suspicious. I jumped in. “Hi Ms. Star, I’m Sierra. I’m his classmate.” His mom looked thrilled. “This is the first time Charlie has brought someone home. He must really like you.” I explained the road construction situation briefly. “I saw him and gave him a ride.” She thanked me profusely, though she looked pale and sickly. “Charlie, it’s Mom’s fault. I should have picked you up.” She talked a lot. Charlie mostly stayed silent. She said the caretaker, Mrs. Lee, was almost there. Charlie kept nodding, but his eyes were glued to me, smiling like a goof. When his mom said it was late and I should go back to campus, he gripped his pencil until his knuckles turned white. His mom read him instantly. “You don’t want Sierra to leave?” Charlie glanced at me, turned his back, and nodded shyly. She explained gently that I couldn’t stay. The doorbell rang. Mrs. Lee arrived. Charlie’s mom asked to speak to me. I took the phone. “Child, have we met before?” My fingers tightened. She recognized me. But I didn’t want to talk about it. I smiled flawlessly. “I don’t think so. I just have one of those faces.” Chapter 4 Before leaving, I couldn’t handle his puppy-dog eyes, so I added him on WeChat. By the time I got to the parking garage, I had ten messages. By the time I showered at the dorm, I had 99+. I replied to a few, ordering him to sleep. The next day, I went to class. Every empty seat had a backpack or book on it. “Saved,” they said. Anyone could sit there. Except Charlie. They were freezing him out. Charlie stood at the back, head down, grinding the pencil into his palm. A wave of annoyance hit me. I walked over to him. Someone whispered: “Does Sierra like the retard? Why is she protecting him?” “Maybe they’re related? They look kinda similar.” Similar? I looked at Charlie’s face. We did look good together. “Sierra, I miss you,” Charlie blurted out. I sighed and took his hand. “Open.” He curled his fingers, then slowly opened them under my stare. His palm was covered in grey graphite and red scratches. I took the pencil stub and put it in my pocket. Without his anxiety anchor, Charlie panicked. He looked at my pocket. “Pencil, Sierra.” “Shh.” I held his hand, picked a random desk, swept the “saved” book onto the floor, and sat him down. The students remembered what I did to Brad. No one said a word. They just grabbed their stuff and moved away. The seats around us emptied instantly. Charlie pulled his hand away. He buried his face in his arms on the desk. He was mad. Mad I took his pencil. He was trying to self-regulate to stop himself from getting angry at me. I pushed a wet wipe and the pencil back to him. “Don’t be mad. Clean your hands. Don’t hold it like that, you’ll get hurt.” Charlie’s mood flipped instantly. He smiled, cleaning his hands carefully. The professor arrived and gave a stern lecture about bullying, likely tipped off by Charlie’s mom. She explained Charlie was harmless. But prejudice is a mountain. No one sat near him. Except me. Another day after school. He pestered me to go to the convenience store to buy a new sketchbook. People stared. Charlie ignored them, eyes only on me. At the register, the cashier, smoking a cigarette, ignored Charlie and handed the card reader to me. I glared at him. The guy shoved the machine at Charlie, muttering, “The dummy knows how to use a card?” I was furious. I dumped the items on the counter and dragged Charlie out. In the car, I scolded him. “You’re smiling? People treat you like dirt!” “I’m sorry, don’t be mad, Sierra~” He tugged my sleeve, smiling purely. My anger vanished. I drove to a different store. Then took him home. Charlie lingered, his eyes brushing my cheek. I looked at his thought bubble. He wanted to kiss me. “Do you want to kiss me?” I asked. He nodded, eyes focused on my cheek. “Look me in the eye and answer.” “Want kiss, Sierra.” He still couldn’t make eye contact. “Look at my eyes.” He spun his pencil, eyes darting away. He couldn’t do it. “Five seconds. Eye contact for five seconds, and you get a kiss.” He went silent. Finally, he whispered, “Sierra…” I turned, meeting a pair of clean, innocent eyes. One, two… My heart started pounding like crazy. Fifth second. A soft kiss grazed my cheek. Like a breeze. I touched my hot face. “Okay, go home.” Charlie smiled, satisfied. To him, it was just affection. He didn’t know he had just messed up a girl’s heart.

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The third time the hotel clerk hammered on my door that morning, I lost it. The kind of rage I usually reserve for micromanaging clients, I unleashed on him. “Why in God’s name do you keep coming back? Is it really that difficult to let a paying guest get some sleep? I pulled three consecutive all-nighters to finalize a pitch, and all I want now is a few hours of peace!” Ordinarily, I could tolerate minor annoyances. But he had clearly seen the “Do Not Disturb” sign I’d physically fumbled onto the knob, yet he was determined to wake me up just so they could clean the room on their schedule. I was running on fumes, and my patience was nonexistent. The other side of the door went quiet for a few seconds, followed by an audible, impatient tsk. His footsteps receded. But it wasn’t long before a louder, more aggressive pounding erupted. “Sir! Routine safety equipment check! We have to verify the smoke alarm is functional! Open the door, please!” My head was pounding. I raised my voice, trying to keep a lid on the fire: “It’s fine… I promise the equipment is fine…” I flipped over, pulling the covers over my head, desperately trying to trick myself back into a coma-like sleep. I had barely managed to glue my eyelids shut for ten minutes. Beep! Click-clack! The sound of the lock being overridden violently jolted me awake. 1 The young clerk, Devin, strode straight to the bed and ripped the duvet right off me! A small, smug smile played on his lips as he slammed a clipboard and pen onto the bedside table. “Since you are so certain you require no service, you must sign this form, confirming that you actively refused housekeeping and the safety check!” he declared. “That way, if you experience any loss of property or personal injury in this room, The Prescott Hotel is in no way liable!” I had finished the pitch to that micromanaging client after three continuous all-nighters, and I felt like the last vestiges of my soul had been drained out. I’d barely made it back to the corporate-booked hotel, too exhausted to even unpack my carry-on. Before I sank into a complete blackout, I’d groped for the “Do Not Disturb” sign and hung it on the outside of the door handle. Then I crashed. At that point, I wouldn’t have answered the door for the CEO of High-Rise Consulting herself. But the moment my eyes closed, before I could even settle into the first phase of deep sleep, a distinct, insistent knocking had dragged me back from the edge of unconsciousness. Knock, knock, knock… “Housekeeping. Do you need the room serviced?” A young male voice came through the thick door. My eyelids felt weighted with lead, and my brain was stuffed with wet cotton. I didn’t even have the energy to open my mouth. I buried my head into the pillow and covered my ears with the duvet, praying he would take the hint and leave. KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!! Instead of retreating, the knocking grew more rapid, more impatient. “Sir, please open the door! Housekeeping!” The shout outside the door was louder now, carrying a distinct tone of annoyance and urgency. My precious sleep was thoroughly shattered, and a wave of pure irritation washed over me. I struggled to prop up my heavy body, my throat dry and scratchy. “The sign is out! I don’t need anything! Thank you!” Silence for a few seconds. Just when I thought I was finally in the clear, the voice came back, laced with suspicion: “The sign is out? Are you… are you sure you’re okay in there?” “It’s the middle of the day. We have specific cleaning times. You’re messing up our schedule, and what about the other guests? We are busy, too!” I took a deep breath, trying to stifle the rising blaze of anger. “I paid for the room. All I want is to sleep. Rules aren’t always fixed, are they? I said no. Please, just stop knocking.” “Sleeping? In the middle of the day…” I heard the voice mutter, clearly disbelieving, before raising the volume again, utterly relentless: “Fine, you want to sleep, but you have to be reasonable about our jobs, right? We have protocol. Your lack of cooperation makes things difficult! And frankly, with the door shut like this, who knows what you’re… up to in there?” A burst of raw fury shot to my head, and I started trembling. I fought the urge to yank this unreasonable person through the door and rip into him. I gritted my teeth and forced out the words: “I am sleeping! What else would I be doing! Is this how your hotel treats guests? I swear I will complain!” The person outside seemed momentarily stunned, silent for a few seconds. Just as I thought he was giving up, I heard a very faint, resentful huff, followed by suppressed, but unmistakably clear, snippets of malicious, gossipy dialogue drifting in: “Seriously? What a psycho… why so aggressive…” Another male voice chimed in: “Right? That ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign is up like he’s trying to hide a crime…” “Sleeping with the covers over his head in the middle of the day? Ugh, who knows what shady business he’s running in there…” “I bet he’s working the clock…” “Exactly. Look at how tired he is. Must have been a good night’s hustle…” 2 My fury spiked, an electric shock. I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms. Three days of blood, sweat, and tears on a project, and they turn it into some dirty hustle?! How dare they slander me like that? Just because I wanted to sleep behind a simple sign? I was so angry my vision blurred, but I was too drained to physically fight. All I could do was bite back the venomous words at my throat, clutch the covers, and play dead. After a long while, the footsteps finally seemed to fade. Silence. I collapsed back onto the bed, utterly drained. My heart was still slamming against my ribs from the confrontation. My head was splitting. I closed my eyes and focused on steadying my breath, the lure of sleep finally returning. Then, a knocking, more violent and urgent than before, erupted again. BAM! BAM! BAM! BAM! “Open the door! Routine safety equipment check, open up!” It was Devin’s voice again, but this time, the impatience and menace were unmistakable. “Argh!” I let out a low, frustrated growl, lunging upright in bed. My temples throbbed, and my heart raced even faster, jarred by the shock. “Stop knocking!” I screamed toward the door. “I said I’m resting! I don’t need any service! And I don’t need any damn check!” “Do your checks after I check out! Now leave immediately! Or I am filing a complaint right now!” Silence for two seconds. Just when I thought I’d finally broken through his thick skull, his voice returned: “It’s hotel policy! If there’s a safety incident because you wouldn’t cooperate, who takes responsibility? You can’t be this unreasonable—” “Shut up!” I completely snapped. The accumulated stress, anger, and injustice exploded out of me. “I am trying to sleep! Do you understand basic English?” “I am warning you for the last time. If you knock on this door one more time, I am calling the corporate line and getting you fired!” The door finally went quiet. I gasped for air, shaking slightly from the adrenaline of my own rage. Surely, that’s it. Exhausted, I slumped back onto the bed, my heart still thump-thump-thumping like it wanted to break free. My sleep was irrevocably fragmented. And then. Beep! Click-clack! A sharp electronic sound and the mechanical grinding of the lock being aggressively overridden rang out simultaneously. My heart seized up. Blood rushed to my head. BANG! The room door was shoved open with brute force. The massive impact made the door frame vibrate, but the door was caught instantly by the security chain I’d engaged the moment I entered. It only opened a gap of a few inches. “Tch!” A frustrated, irritated sound came from outside. A face appeared in the narrow gap—it was the same clerk, Devin. He strained to peer in, his face a mask of unconcealed annoyance and malice. His voice was sharp: “Oh! The security chain is on, is it? Who are you hiding from? Feeling a little guilty?” “Hiding in your room in the middle of the day? You must really be running some sleazy operation in there, huh?” “Or maybe you’re hiding contraband? Open the chain right now! We have to check!” The last thread of my sanity snapped. I launched myself off the bed, flying to the door. Through the narrow slit, I stared at that revolting face. “How dare you illegally override the lock on my room?!” “Who gave you the authority?! I am a guest here! I paid for this room; it is my private space! You are committing illegal entry! Do you understand the law?!” Devin was momentarily stunned by my roar. A flash of panic crossed his face, but it was quickly replaced by a deepening maliciousness. He was about to retort, but I didn’t give him the chance. My voice went shrill: “I have a congenital heart condition! Your constant banging and now your forced entry has scared my heart into a panic attack! It’s pounding out of my chest!” “If something happens to me right now, if I have a heart attack because you scared me to death! You will be a murderer! Are you prepared to face that kind of charge?!” I gasped for breath: “I was patient! I was willing to let it go, worker to worker! But you’ve pushed me too far! You think I’m an easy target?!” Our furious argument was painfully loud in the quiet corridor. The door of the room next to mine opened. So did the door across the hall. Several guests in pajamas or casual clothes poked their heads out, looking on with a mix of curiosity and eager anticipation. The moment Devin saw the audience, his expression transformed. The aggressive bully vanished. He instantly backed away, his eyes turning red, his shoulders starting to tremble. His voice broke into a heavy sob: “Everyone, please judge! I was just following hotel policy to check the safety equipment, for everyone’s safety…” “And this guest… he… he wouldn’t cooperate, and then he started screaming at me… calling me an intruder, threatening to file a complaint… telling me to get lost…” “We’re just working people! Why is it so hard to do our jobs… Just because we work in service, does that mean we deserve to be looked down on and bullied by guests?” 3 He sobbed dramatically, using the back of his hand to wipe away tears that weren’t quite there. His complete reversal and tearful, twisted version of events instantly won the sympathy of the uninformed onlookers. A middle-aged woman in a robe frowned and spoke up: “Listen, sir, you need to calm down. The young man is just doing his job. It’s not easy…” “Exactly. A quick check is for your own good. Why scream and swear at him?” another man chimed in. “People these days, they complain about everything. Bullying the workers…” someone else muttered under their breath. The baseless accusations pierced me like needles. I was shaking with anger. I locked eyes with Devin, who was still dabbing at his tear ducts, playing the picture of pathetic vulnerability. I snatched the security chain off the latch and stepped out into the hallway, my gaze sweeping over the handful of guests who had sided with him. “You all are quick to jump in, aren’t you?” My voice wasn’t loud, but every word was razor-sharp, squeezed out through clenched teeth: “Fine, then you listen up!” “I have a severe congenital heart condition!” I pointed to my chest, speaking slowly and deliberately. “And right now, this employee, who illegally entered my room and slandered me, has infuriated me to the point that my heart is extremelydistressed! If, in the next second, I collapse here from an emotional heart attack! You…” My finger stabbed towards the guests who’d spoken up, “Your words just now made you accessories! You were the trigger! I will not let a single one of you off the hook. I will instruct my lawyer to sue all of you! I will sue you until you lose everything! Go ahead, keep taking his side!” The hallway fell into immediate, stunned silence. A threat is abstract until it hits close to home. The faces of the righteous, judgmental onlookers instantly shifted. They exchanged panicked, worried glances. The woman in the robe forced an awkward laugh and quickly waved her hands. “Oh, hey, young man, please don’t get upset. I was just speaking casually, no offense intended.” “Yeah, yeah, this has nothing to do with us,” the others quickly echoed, desperate to distance themselves from the potential legal nightmare. Seeing his reinforcements retreat, the tears on Devin’s face evaporated instantly, as if a switch had been flicked off. He quickly wiped his face, his pitiful expression gone. He shot me a venomous glare, let out a cold huff through his nose, and marched away. Watching his back disappear around the corner, and confirming the nosy guests had closed their doors, the extreme tension in my body suddenly released. Back inside the room, I slid down the door panel to the floor, completely drained. My heart was still hammering, and my back was drenched in cold sweat. Finally… quiet? I struggled to my feet, stumbling back towards the bed, plunging my face deep into the pillow. Just as my frayed nerves began to relax and sleep threatened to return. Beep! Click-clack! The sharp sound of breaking metal and the mechanical ‘beep-clack’ of the lock being forced open erupted simultaneously. I shot my head up, eyes wide. The next second, the room door was violently thrust inward. The thin security chain had been clipped clean through by a pair of massive metal pliers. That persistent little ghost of a clerk was back. He charged to the bedside in a few steps and ripped the blanket right off me. All pretense was gone from his face, replaced by a vicious malice and the satisfaction of a job well done. He raised his hand. SLAP! An incredibly loud, crisp slap landed squarely on my face. “You won’t cooperate, huh?! Was opening the damn door really that difficult?!” 4 My cheek was stinging, hot and throbbing. My ears were ringing. I clutched my face, staring in disbelief at Devin standing over the bed. “You! You assaulted me?! Security! I’m calling the police! I’m calling the police right now!” I tried to lunge at him, but the combination of sleeplessness, shock, and anger left my body feeling like lead. My vision swam. Devin deftly stepped back, the smirk instantly wiped away, replaced by a look of manufactured terror. His voice went shrill and frantic as he yelled toward the door: “Security! Help! The guest is attacking me! Help!” Almost the moment his cry ended, two burly men in security uniforms, Ray and Vic, materialized and blocked the doorway. They were clearly waiting. One of them even had a smartphone out, its camera light glaring, aimed coldly at the interior of the room. One of the guards, Ray, frowned and spoke sternly: “Sir! Calm down! Don’t get physical! We received a report that you are highly agitated and showing violent tendencies!” “Violent tendencies?!” I felt like I was going to throw up blood. I pointed to the rapidly swelling side of my face. “Look closely! He broke into my room! He cut the security chain! He hit me! HE did this!” Devin immediately cowered behind the security guards, sobbing melodramatically: “I… I didn’t… I just saw he wouldn’t open the door and I was afraid he was in trouble, so I followed protocol and forced entry to check on him… I gently woke him, and he suddenly went crazy and tried to hit me… I was terrified…” “You’re lying!” I roared. “You are twisting the facts! Is this how your hotel allows employees to commit assault?! I demand to see your manager, now! Immediately!” “See the manager? Fine!” Devin suddenly peered out from behind the guard. There was not a trace of a tear, only a cruel, vicious look in his eye. He gave a malicious little smile. “But before you see the manager, we need to ensure your safety. Didn’t you just say you have a heart condition? And that you were about to die of fright?” “Well, The Prescott Hotel takes the life safety of its guests very seriously!” He suddenly raised his voice, ordering the security guards: “Ray, Vic, this gentleman claims he is having a heart attack and his condition is critical! Notify the emergency services immediately and secure the scene!” “What?!” I was completely blindsided. The two guards exchanged a hesitant look, but they seemed more inclined to follow the instruction. One of them immediately pulled out a walkie-talkie: “Front Desk to command! Emergency situation! Room 816 guest suffering sudden cardiac arrest! Requesting EMS!” The other guard, Vic, stepped forward, his eyes sharp, his phone still aimed at me. “You… you…” A chilling sense of cold horror washed over me. They were painting me as a lunatic, a liar, a disruptive guest trying to extort the hotel. The sheer absurdity of the situation, coupled with the ice-cold fear, gripped me. I had just wanted a few hours of sleep after an all-nighter, and I had been systematically forced into this nightmare scenario. My cheek was burning, and my heart, genuinely, was starting to beat erratically due to the confluence of rage and terror.

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“Mom, take me to the hospital, I’m sick!” My son, Leo, threw himself at my feet, his little fists hammering my thigh. “My stomach hurts, my head hurts, everything hurts!” Seeing my young son standing there, tangible and alive, I finally believed it. I was reborn. The rage from my past life hadn’t dissipated. The thought of the son I raised with such care faking an illness to help Bella scam me out of money—money she used to study abroad while I rotted—made me sick. He had even called her “Mom” with such affection. I had been a good mother. In my last life, when he cried about pain, I swallowed my pride and begged the base driver to rush us to the hospital. While I was terrified for his health, he and his father were plotting how to deceive me. Right, my husband, the decorated officer, Ethan Stone. Father and son, cut from the same cloth. Neither could take their eyes off Bella. Since fate has given me a second chance, I will never let them hurt me again. 1 My son’s fists rained down on me. “Bad mommy! I want to go to the hospital!” “Okay,” I replied indifferently. I turned around, walked into the bedroom, and lay down. Leo was stunned. He gritted his teeth, threw himself on the floor, and started wailing. But I remained unmoved. “You’re a bad woman!” He screamed and ran out the door, straight to the group of neighborhood women gossiping in the courtyard. “Mommy won’t take me to the hospital…” He looked at me with tearful eyes, but there was a cunning glint in them. “I hurt all over. It feels so bad.” The women’s faces instantly darkened. “Mrs. Stone, are you human?” They were indignant. “The child is sick and you won’t take him to the doctor? What kind of mother are you?!” seeing me walk out, Leo scrambled over. “Mommy, I won’t be naughty anymore,” he acted pitifully. “Please take me to the hospital.” “Sure.” I smiled faintly, grabbed him by the collar, and tossed him into the abandoned chicken coop next to the house. “MOM!” Leo was stunned, crying in terror inside the coop. The onlookers were even more shocked. “Leo’s mom, what are you doing?” I clapped my hands clean. “This is an old remedy from my hometown. If a kid is acting up and feeling ‘unwell,’ living in a chicken coop for two days cures everything. No need for a hospital.” The women stared, wide-eyed. “How is that possible?” “Sarah! Have you lost your mind?!” A furious roar came from behind me. I shuddered. “It’s not enough that you’re ignorant? Do you want to kill our son with your stupidity?” My husband, Ethan, looked like he wanted to strangle me. “I never should have brought you from the village to the base!” “Calm down, don’t blame Sarah.” Bella, dressed in a fashionable Western dress, gently smoothed Ethan’s furrowed brow. “She’s from the countryside, she doesn’t know any better. It’s not her fault, as long as she learns.” She leaned affectionately on Ethan’s shoulder, looking down at me with condescension. No one thought their intimacy was inappropriate. As if Bella was the real mistress of this house. Him and her. One stole my future, the other left me disabled for life. I’ll settle this debt slowly. Ethan tore open the coop and dragged Leo out. “I’m taking him to the hospital now,” he said coldly. “If anything is wrong with him, it’s on you.” We arrived at the county hospital in ten minutes. Bella handed me a report that read “Confirmed: Leukemia.” “I never thought Leo would have such bad luck.” Her eyes were red. “Leukemia is aggressive. The doctor says we need at least ten thousand dollars for treatment.” Bella looked up, her eyes probing cautiously. “Sarah, you’re his biological mother. You’ll definitely raise the money, right?” It was the same in my last life. Bella handed me the diagnosis. I was stunned by the word “Leukemia.” I didn’t have time to doubt it. I ran myself ragged raising money. In the 80s, jobs were scarce. I worked without sleep. When that wasn’t enough, I knelt and begged door to door, enduring humiliation. But I never imagined. Every cent I scraped together went into Bella’s pocket, funding her lavish life abroad. In this life, she won’t suck my blood again! “What are you standing there for?” Ethan glared at me. “Our son is sick! Go get the money!” “Oh, right,” he added. “You can give your study abroad slot to Bella. Stay home and take care of Leo.” Giving away my future to another woman. He didn’t hesitate. “This hospital is unreliable.” I hugged Leo tight. “Let’s go to another one. Just to be safe.” Their faces froze. Bella tried to stop me. “Let’s not waste time, just do it here—” “I’m his mother. I decide.” I dragged Leo to the new hospital across town. Three hours later, I had the physical exam report. “Look. The other hospital misdiagnosed him.” I smiled. “All indicators are normal. No leukemia.” Seeing the report, Bella looked like she’d swallowed a fly. Leo, who had been whining about pain, went silent. “I suspect he’s just bored at home.” I beamed. “The sports academy is recruiting. Let’s send him there to toughen up. Support the national fitness initiative.” The sports academy was a boarding school. Home visits every two weeks. Conditions were harsh. Since this kid didn’t want a good home and wanted to be an ingrate, I’d send him to enjoy some collective discipline. “I don’t want to go—” Leo panicked. “Mommy Bella save me! I don’t want to go to the sports academy!” Bella’s face turned pale. “Leo, you misspoke. I’m not your mommy, I’m your auntie.” Her eyes darted around. “Don’t say that again.” “But Daddy said…” “Shut up!” Bella fled. Ethan glared at me viciously before chasing after her. My smile turned cold. No wonder Leo accepted Bella so easily. Ethan had been teaching him to call her “Mom” behind my back. I left Leo in the pediatric ward and went to pay the bill. I accidentally saw Bella crying in a corner. “Will I never get to go abroad?” Her eyes were swollen. “But it’s my dream. My grandmother always told me stories about studying overseas. I want it so much.” “Why can’t Sarah just play dumb and help me with the money and the slot? I’d be grateful…” Ethan held her, eyes full of heartache. “I’ll figure out the money and the slot. Don’t worry.” Bella smiled through her tears and kissed Ethan on the cheek. I had no interest in watching further. I paid the bill and left with Leo. I sent Leo to the sports academy. No matter how much he cried and kicked, I didn’t soften. Without a child to care for, I had ample time to study English and prepare for my departure. After a few peaceful days, Ethan suddenly came home. Since Bella arrived at the base, he spent eight out of ten nights at her singles’ dorm. He rarely came home. In my past life, I fought about it. But his excuse—”I’m just used to looking out for Comrade Bella”—shut me down. I ignored Ethan and continued reading. Suddenly, his warm body pressed against mine, smelling of laundry soap. His hands gripped my shoulders. “It’s late. Let’s sleep.” As if that wasn’t enough, he scooped me up in his strong arms. “It’s been a while since we were intimate.” He looked at me with deep eyes. “Let’s try tonight.” Ethan blatantly placed the contraceptives he got from the clinic in front of me. To be fair, his daily training made his body hard as iron. His stamina was incredible. Any woman would fall for him. In my past life, I would have shyly agreed, secretly anticipating it. But now, I only felt repulsion. “No need.” I lowered my eyes. “If you have needs, go find Bella.” “Don’t talk nonsense!” Ethan frowned. “She and I are innocent. Intimacy is only for you.” I laughed bitterly, shook him off, went into the guest room, and locked the door. Ethan was gone the next morning. I went out as usual to process my paperwork. “Leo’s mom!” The clinic auntie stopped me, looking curious. “Your husband treats you so well. He went specifically to buy pills for… you know. Everyone envies your luck.” I looked at her blankly. “What are you waiting for? Go see!” She dragged me to the clinic. I was about to leave when I heard Ethan’s hushed voice. “As long as the pills work. If she gets pregnant, she can’t go abroad with a belly.” “But you already have Leo. Policy doesn’t allow a second child.” “I never intended for her to give birth.” Ethan’s words chilled me to the bone. So the sudden intimacy was a trap. To get me pregnant so the study abroad office would reject me. As for the child, it wouldn’t even survive. The baby and I were just stepping stones for Bella. I retched. Right. In my last life, he disfigured and disabled me. In this life, merely getting me pregnant and forcing an abortion was him being “merciful.” I held back my tears and ran to the Commander’s office. “Commander, I want to file for divorce!” “Why so sudden?” The Commander was surprised. “If it’s about Bella, Ethan already spoke to me. He’s just looking out for a teammate. Don’t overthink it.” I shook my head. “It’s not about him. I plan to dedicate myself to the development of the Northwest frontier immediately after I return from my studies.” Building the Northwest meant spending years, maybe decades, in secret facilities. It often meant sacrificing family. “Sacrificing the small family for the greater good.” The Commander sighed. “I admire your dedication. But does Ethan agree?” “I don’t need his opinion. I insist on divorce.” The Commander looked at me deeply. “Alright. The organization can approve a special divorce without Ethan’s consent. Comrade Sarah, you may dedicate your life to your cause.” Leaving the office, I received more good news. The study abroad office moved the training schedule up. The departure date, originally next month, was now tomorrow. I rushed home to pack. “You’re really leaving—” Seeing me packing, Ethan’s face turned livid. He pulled a packet of pills from his pocket. “I bought these for you. Take them.” He probably didn’t expect the date to change either. Tonight was his last chance to trap me. I didn’t even look. I threw the pills in the trash. “Are you determined to go?” he asked. “Yes.” “Enough!” Ethan glared at me. “Bella is clearly more suited for this opportunity. Why do you insist on hoarding it?!” “Or are you just jealous of her education and want to bully her?” I laughed in anger. “I earned this spot with my exam scores. I didn’t steal it. Why should I give it to her?” “But you shouldn’t—” Ethan stopped, unable to find a rebuttal. He didn’t speak to me again until the next day. I happily dragged my luggage to wait for the bus. It was rare for someone from the base to go abroad. Neighbors gathered to watch. Just as the bus arrived and I was about to board, Ethan appeared and grabbed me. “Don’t go. Mom and Dad are critically ill.” His attitude was cold. “You need to go back to the village and care for them immediately.” Bella walked over with an identical suitcase, smiling. “Ethan is right. Filial piety comes first. Sarah, you should go back.” “As for studying abroad, I’ll go in your place.” I was stunned. Watching Bella move to take my place, I tried to rush forward, but the neighbors blocked me. “Sarah, there will be other chances to study. But if your in-laws die because of you, can you live with that?” “We thought you were a good wife. Turns out you’re selfish. Ethan was blind to marry you.” Ethan watched with satisfaction as I was besieged. He snatched my bag, took out my admission documents, and handed them to Bella. “Give it back!” I screamed desperately. But no matter how I struggled, the crowd held me tight.

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I thought Julian Sterling was faking bankruptcy and a disability just to force me to break off our engagement. So, I kicked his wheelchair over and demanded money from him. He kept up the act until he couldn’t anymore. After Julian made his comeback, he accepted an interview. The reporter asked, “It was said that your legs had almost zero chance of recovery. How did you manage to stand again?” Julian’s voice trembled with emotion. “Because of my fiancée.” The reporter sighed, touched. “Your wife stayed by your side during your lowest moments. That’s true love.” Julian gritted his teeth. “No. She thought I was faking it and forced me to stand up!” 1 Unlike the “old money” debutantes of Manhattan, my family is new money. We struck it rich overnight. Even though we have cash, I never fit in with the Upper East Side princesses. Growing up, they excluded me, overtly and covertly. They didn’t welcome me, and honestly, I didn’t care for them either. But I always held a grudge. It wasn’t until I got engaged to Julian Sterling that my status in the socialite circle truly changed. The Sterling family is old money. True aristocracy. Not just rich—wealthy. As the heir to the Sterling empire, Julian showed terrifying business acumen and IQ from a young age. While his peers were partying in college, he had already founded his own company. Most importantly, being engaged to Julian brought me a lot of perks. The compliments from the circle, the way those mean girls hated me but had to suck up to me—it was satisfying. Of course, some couldn’t hold back their whispers. “What is she so smug about? Julian doesn’t actually like her. It’s just for his grandfather. Chloe is the one he truly loves.” “Whether he actually marries her in the end is still up in the air.” I sipped my tea calmly. So what if he has a “white moonlight”—a first love he can’t forget? Julian is only going to marry me. 2 I enjoyed everything Julian brought me until news broke that Sterling Corp had gone bankrupt and Julian was paralyzed. Some people kicked him while he was down. Others watched silently. But for the trust fund babies who only knew how to party, it was just a show. Tiffany, who had always been my nemesis, insinuated loudly at a brunch, “The Sterling family has stood for a hundred years. How come they go bankrupt as soon as they get engaged to her? Maybe she’s a jinx.” Her little minion giggled. “Maybe it’s fake. Just a ploy to get rid of her.” “I heard Chloe is coming back from Paris.” Their theories were ridiculous, but I believed them 100%. I hadn’t heard a whisper of trouble before this. Suddenly bankrupt? It was obviously a trap. Want to get rid of me? Ha. I’m going to cling to him like a ghost. 3 I skipped dinner and rushed straight to the Sterling estate. From a distance, I could hear the voices of the usual trust fund jerks, arrogant as ever. “Julian, you still think you’re the high-and-mighty heir? You’re a cripple now. If I told you to bark like a dog, I’d be doing you a favor. Don’t be ungrateful.” “Didn’t you love telling us to get lost? Now look who’s lost.” “Bro, he’s a cripple. He couldn’t get lost if he wanted to. Useless trash.” They laughed in a pack. The subject of their ridicule sat expressionless in a wheelchair, his eyes indifferent, as if they weren’t talking about him. I curled my lip in a sneer. What a coincidence. I show up just in time to see him being bullied. Does Julian think I’m stupid? It’s too scripted. Bravo. To break off the engagement, he staged a whole play. Even pretending to be disabled. It would be a waste if I didn’t play along. My heels clicked on the pavement. The group turned at the sound. Liam, the leader of the pack, whistled maliciously. “Yo, look who it is. Miss Harper. Here to return the ring?” I glanced at him coldly. “Get lost.” He exploded instantly. “Everyone knows your family is just nouveau riche trash. What are you proud of? New money and a cripple—a match made in heaven.” Slap. I slapped him across the face, shaking my stinging hand. “Did you learn to shut up now?” “You bitch!” Having been bullied by those mean girls for years, I took self-defense classes. I couldn’t beat a pro, but I could handle these hollowed-out party boys. I kicked Liam in the knee. He dropped to the ground. I threatened coldly, “Apologize to Julian.” “Don’t be stubborn. Your father still has a deal with my family.” He gritted his teeth, unwilling. “You’re only in it for the money anyway. Now that he’s a cripple, why would you marry him?” So that was it. They were trying to force me to break the engagement. After all this setup, the motive finally came out. I lowered my eyes to hide my emotions. “None of your business. I don’t love his money. I love him.” “No matter what happens, I won’t abandon him. I’ve decided he’s the one I’m spending my life with.” Liam reluctantly apologized to Julian. “Julian… sorry.” Behind me, where I couldn’t see, Julian’s eyelashes trembled violently. His hands gripped his thighs, clenching the fabric of his pants tight, then releasing. 4 “You don’t have to go this far. We haven’t even met that many times. They’re right. I’m a useless person now.” “The engagement…” Before he could finish, I covered his mouth. “I said I’ve chosen you. It’s just a small setback. We’ll get through it.” I looked at his legs. “What did the doctor say? Can they heal?” Changing the subject, Julian’s gaze fell on his legs, a shadow passing through his eyes. He pursed his lips. “The doctor said there’s a 10% chance I’ll stand again.” I played along, holding his hand. “Even if it’s 10%, we can’t give up. I’ll stay with you. I believe you’ll stand again.” I’m not breaking the engagement. I’m going to haunt you. He looked at me deeply, as if finally making a decision. “Okay.” In the rehab center, he stood up and fell down over and over again. Hands on the ground, the frustration in his eyes was thick enough to drown in. Sweat dripped from his forehead. He bit his lip until it bled. It was pathetic and messy. From the sidelines, I watched coldly. It must be hard for a healthy person to act disabled. Great acting. Very convincing. To play along with his “bankruptcy,” I convinced him to move into my apartment. “It’s easier for me to take care of you.” Julian’s voice was hoarse. The emotions in his eyes were turbulent, but I couldn’t read them. To fast-track our “bonding,” since he was playing the cripple, I treated him like one. I cooked for him, went to rehab with him, and played the supportive partner when he was down. I defended him against anyone who looked at him wrong. As time went on, it seemed to work. Julian visibly began to trust me. One day at home, he tried to stand but fell. He looked devastated and punched his own leg hard. I walked over, held his hand down, and spoke gently. “Take your time. Don’t rush.” He calmed down slowly and leaned his head on my shoulder. “I promise I’ll give you a good life.” That was the best line I’d heard in a while. Seeing him like this, the farce should be ending soon, right? 5 Monday. Julian went for a checkup. I didn’t want to watch his performance, so I made an excuse and had the driver take him. Lying in bed scrolling on my phone, I saw the messages in the group chat. The mean girls were at it again. “I told you Julian loves Chloe. As soon as she came back, he went running to her.” “The bankruptcy is probably fake. The disability is even more impossible. He looked fine to me.” “He really went to great lengths to get someone to break off the engagement.” So Julian wasn’t seeing a doctor. He was seeing Chloe. I stared at the messages coldly. In our circles, who doesn’t have a “white moonlight”? It’s normal. And I don’t even like Julian. I’m just in it for the status and power. As long as he doesn’t bring it up, I can pretend it didn’t happen. I sat in the living room waiting for Julian. From noon until sunset, until the last ray of light vanished from the horizon. Julian finally came back. He turned on the lights and saw me on the sofa, concern filling his face. “What happened? Why didn’t you turn on the lights?” I rubbed my temples, exhausted. “Nothing happened. I just didn’t want to.” Silence fell. Julian sat in his wheelchair, looking like he wanted to say something. I asked first. “Do you have something to say?” His gaze was restrained, as if making a difficult choice. “I’m a cripple now. I can’t give you anything. It’s better for you if we break the engagement.” Better for me? Even breaking up is “for my own good”? What a saint. He’s just a shameless scumbag. I’m not a pushover. Since he won’t take the easy way, he can eat dirt. He forced my hand. Under Julian’s nervous gaze, I stared at him coldly. “To marry your first love, you faked a disability and bankruptcy.” “You want to dump me to run off with Chloe? Dream on! Where’s your money? Give it to me!” “You’ve been living off me these past few days. You owe me double!” Julian looked blank, sitting helplessly in his wheelchair. “What first love? I don’t have one. And the bankruptcy isn’t fake, it’s real…” Still acting. I lost my patience completely. “I don’t care if it’s real or fake. If I don’t see five million dollars by tomorrow, you’re dead.” He grabbed my hand, begging. “Can you give me a week?” Fake. I knew it. I shook off his hand. “Fine.”

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At the spa for my year-end appointment, I discovered my VIP account had been used by a stranger. I logged into my personal profile. The last three treatments on record weren’t mine. The preferences section was filled with meticulous detail: an allergy to rose oil, a preference for lavender, a note that the hot stones must not exceed 108 degrees Fahrenheit. It even noted a menstrual cycle around the fifteenth of each month, a time to avoid any abdominal treatments. I stared at the screen, my palms growing cold and damp. The only person who knew the password was my husband, Sebastian. He’d said he needed it occasionally to check the balance and top up the account for me. My finger scrolled down, and a system note caught my eye: “Birthday treatment reserved for Dec 30th. Prepare according to Ms. Kingsley’s preferences.” Today was December 30th. My phone buzzed. A text from Sebastian: “Working late tonight. Won’t be home.” A familiar laugh echoed from the hallway. Through the glass door, I saw Sebastian with his arm around a woman, leading her into the room next door. A therapist greeted them at the door. “Mr. Kenin, Ms. Kingsley’s birthday treatment is ready, just as you requested.” Wait, the name Kenin is forbidden. Let’s choose another one. How about “Mr. Davenport”? “Mr. Davenport, Ms. Kingsley’s birthday treatment is ready, just as you requested.” 1 The smile on Sebastian’s face froze. His arm, wrapped around the woman, fell stiffly to his side. He strode towards me, his brow furrowed as if I were the one who had done something wrong. “Rory, what are you doing here? Why didn’t you answer my text?” I recognized the woman behind him, the one he called Ms. Kingsley. It was Penelope, the daughter of his late mentor, a name he mentioned often. She wore a simple white dress, her long hair falling over her shoulders. Her face was pale, giving her a fragile, pitiable look. I didn’t answer Sebastian’s question. I just let my gaze drift from the screen—the screen that detailed another woman’s every preference—to his face. My voice was calm, betraying none of the storm raging inside me. “Aren’t you supposed to be working late?” Sebastian took a deep breath, visibly trying to suppress a wave of emotion. He didn’t answer directly. Instead, he stepped forward to take my hand, but I instinctively pulled away. His hand hovered awkwardly in the air, his expression darkening. “Let’s talk about this at home, okay? There are too many people here.” Penelope, the woman behind him, crept forward, her eyes already red-rimmed. “Sebastian, this is all my fault. Have I caused a misunderstanding with Aurora? I’ll explain everything. I begged Sebastian to let me use the card. My health is poor, and the doctor said I need regular physical therapy, but I just don’t have the money…” As she spoke, tears began to stream down her cheeks. “Aurora, please, don’t blame Sebastian. He was just taking pity on me. The birthday treatment was meant to be a surprise. He said I’d never had a proper birthday growing up. I’m so, so sorry. I didn’t know this account was so important to you. I’ll never use it again!” It was a masterful performance, twisting the truth until it was unrecognizable. She painted herself as an innocent, casting Sebastian as a benevolent saint and me as the petty, overreacting wife. Sebastian immediately rushed to her defense, his voice laced with a sharp reprimand aimed at me. “Rory! Stop it. Penelope’s health is fragile. You’re scaring her.” When he turned back to Penelope, his voice softened, becoming gentle enough to soothe a frightened bird. “It’s okay, Penny. Don’t cry. It’s not your fault. It was my mistake; I should have told Rory beforehand. You go on in for your treatment before you catch a chill.” He even took off his tailored suit jacket and draped it solicitously over Penelope’s thin shoulders. In that moment, a chilling cold seeped into my bones. It was late December in Bayside. The temperature outside was near freezing. I was slightly swollen from my pregnancy and could only fit into a pair of thin flats, leaving my ankles exposed to the biting wind. And yet, the only person he saw, the only one he worried might get cold, was another woman. I watched their effortless intimacy, a scene that made me feel like an intruder in my own life. My heart felt like it was being squeezed by an icy fist, and every breath was a sharp, stabbing pain, like inhaling shattered glass. “Sebastian.” My voice trembled, a mixture of cold and rage. “Why did you give Penelope my card?” He paused, then his brow furrowed in annoyance. “What’s the big deal? I told you, she’s my mentor’s daughter. I thought if I shared the card with her, it might help you two get along. I was doing it for your sake.” 2 “For my sake?” A bitter laugh almost escaped my lips. “Doing it for my sake was using my money to arrange this… this bespoke, meticulously planned service for her?” My accusation struck a nerve. The color rose in his cheeks, and his tone turned cold. “Aurora, must you be so unreasonable? Penelope’s father was my mentor; he gave me my first big break. On his deathbed, he asked me to look after her. What was I supposed to do? She’s an orphan, all alone in the world, with fragile health. What’s wrong with me helping her out a little? It’s just a few thousand dollars for some spa treatments. That’s nothing to us. Can’t you be a little more generous?” “Generous?” I repeated the word, the irony of it a bitter taste in my mouth. He always had an excuse. Penelope was his mentor’s daughter, so she needed his care. Penelope’s health was poor, so she needed his concern. Penelope was a lonely orphan, so he had to give her the warmth of a family. And what about me? What about the child I was carrying in my womb? His child. What did that make me? In the end, I was the one who backed down. I refused to make a scene in public, to devolve into a screaming shrew. That would only make me look more pathetic. Sebastian drove me home. The silence in the car was heavy, suffocating. He must have realized he’d gone too far, because he softened his tone and tried to placate me. “Alright, Rory, don’t be angry. I was wrong. I should have told you first. I promise, it won’t happen again. I’ll go change the password on the account tomorrow. From now on, it’s just for you, okay?” He pulled up to our building and turned to me, taking my hand. His palm was warm and dry, radiating the same sense of security it always had. “And with Penelope… I’ll be more careful about boundaries. But she’s my mentor’s only child. I can’t just abandon her.” “Just… think of it as charity. Don’t hold it against her, alright? She’s not like you. You grew up cherished by your parents, and now you have me. She has nothing.” It was the same speech I had heard a thousand times before. I was tired. I didn’t have the energy to argue anymore. I nodded, my voice barely a whisper. “I don’t feel well. I want to go up and rest.” Seeing that I had dropped the subject, he visibly relaxed, a smile returning to his face. “That’s my girl. A pregnant woman shouldn’t be stressed. It’s not good for the baby. Come on, I’ll carry you upstairs.” He was always so attentive, so caring. He would peel fruit for me, and when my morning sickness was at its worst, he would patiently rub my back until it subsided. If I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes, I would have believed he loved me to his very core. And so, the incident was seemingly forgotten. True to his word, Sebastian changed the spa account password the next day and cancelled the secondary card, leaving only the primary one in my possession. He became even more gentle and attentive, catering to my every whim. My mother hired the best nutritionist, who prepared an endless variety of nourishing pregnancy broths for me. The first thing Sebastian did every day when he got home from work was sit with me until I finished my soup. “You’re working so hard, my love. For our baby. Just a little more.” He would carefully skim the fat off the top and feed it to me, one spoonful at a time. I was almost fooled by his performance. I almost convinced myself that what I saw at the spa was just a misunderstanding, a figment of my imagination. Until the day I found an identical thermos in the trunk of his car. It was empty, but the faint, lingering aroma of a specific herbal bone broth with turmeric and ginger still clung to the inside. It was the same broth I had had the day before. I remembered it clearly because I disliked the taste of turmeric and had only managed half a bowl. Sebastian, insisting that nothing should go to waste, had said he would finish the rest. But he hadn’t finished it. He had poured it into another thermos and given it to someone else. To Penelope, who also needed to keep her strength up. In that moment, my heart sank to the deepest, coldest depths of my soul. I didn’t say a word. I just silently placed the thermos back where I found it. A few days later, it was time for my prenatal check-up. Sebastian had long promised to come with me, but just as we were about to leave, he took a call, and his expression changed instantly. “What? A leak? Okay, drive safe on your way back. I’m on my way now!” He hung up and looked at me, his face a mask of apology. “Rory, I’m so sorry. A pipe burst in Penelope’s apartment. The place is completely flooded. She’s on her way back there now, I have to go check on things.” 3 “Can you ask my mom to go with you to the appointment? I’ll head to the hospital and meet you there as soon as I’m done.” Penelope again. Her emergencies always had such impeccable timing. I looked at his anxious face and asked quietly, “Is it that important? More important than our child?” He froze, as if he couldn’t believe I would ask such a thing. “Rory, how can you say that? They’re two completely different things! This is a safety issue, it could be dangerous! Your check-up is just a routine scan. My mom will be with you, you’ll be fine. Be a good girl and don’t overthink it.” He leaned in and kissed my forehead, his tone leaving no room for argument. “I’ll be back before you know it.” With that, he grabbed his car keys and left without a backward glance. The moment the door clicked shut, the living room was plunged into a dead silence. He’d said his mom would go with me. But his mother was currently enjoying a vacation at a resort in the Caribbean. Sebastian knew this better than anyone. Just two weeks ago, he had driven her to the airport himself, telling her to have fun and not to worry, because he would take good care of me. My heart felt like it was being squeezed by an invisible hand, the pressure so intense I could barely breathe. I leaned against the wall, taking slow, deep breaths, telling myself not to get agitated. For the baby. It was fine. I could do this without him. I picked up my phone, intending to call my best friend, Sloane, and ask her to come with me. But then I remembered she had a crucial contract negotiation today. I didn’t want her to drop everything for me. I would go by myself. I got changed and made my way down to the underground garage. When I reached our usual parking spot, I stopped dead. The space was empty. My little white sedan, the car I had driven for three years, was gone. It was a twentieth birthday present from my father. He had said he hoped the road of my life would always be smooth and clear. That car had been with me through my college graduation and my marriage to Sebastian. It was one of my most treasured possessions. Sebastian had insisted that it was safer for me not to drive while pregnant, so I hadn’t even been down to the garage in nearly six months. A profound sense of unease washed over me. With a trembling hand, I dialed Sebastian’s number. It rang for a long time before he finally picked up. The background was filled with the sound of rushing water and Penelope’s soft, delicate sobs. “Rory? What is it? Are you feeling unwell?” Sebastian’s voice was clipped, impatient. “I’m a little busy right now. The main water valve won’t shut off. The place is a disaster.” I forced myself to remain calm. “Sebastian,” I said, my voice dangerously even. “Where is my car?” There was a few seconds of silence on the other end. “Oh, the car,” he said, his tone casual. “Penelope’s place is pretty remote, and it’s hard to get a cab out there. I let her borrow it a while back. I forgot to tell you. Did you need it today? Just take an Uber to the hospital. It’s easy enough.” 4 “You gave her… my car?” My voice echoed in the cavernous, empty garage, laced with a despair I hadn’t realized was there. Every trinket hanging from the rearview mirror, I had chosen myself. No one had ever sat in the passenger seat except for my parents and Sebastian. And now, with a casual, offhand remark, he had given that private, precious piece of my life to another woman. “It’s just a car, isn’t it?” Sebastian’s patience had clearly run out. “Aurora, can you please not cause trouble for me right now? Penelope is dealing with a flood here! I have to go. Just take a cab, I’ll reimburse you for the bill.” Beep… beep… beep… He had hung up on me. I stood there, phone in hand, staring at the empty parking space, feeling like the world’s biggest fool. Reimburse me? Did he really think everything could be measured in dollars and cents? Did he think my dignity, my love, my very heart, had a price tag? In the end, I called a ride-share. Sitting in the back seat, I watched the city blur past my window. The winter sun was a pale, weak disc in the sky, offering no warmth at all. The driver was a chatty middle-aged man who, probably noticing my pale face, tried to lighten the mood. “Off to the maternity hospital for a check-up, ma’am? You’ve got that glow. I’m sure the baby is perfectly healthy.” I managed a weak smile but said nothing. We were stopped at a red light when my gaze drifted out the window and froze. In the lane next to us was a familiar white sedan, parked at a crooked angle. It was my car. And behind the wheel was Penelope. She was wearing a full face of makeup and a chic, cream-colored cashmere coat. She was looking in the rearview mirror, applying lipstick with a faint, triumphant smile on her face. The lipstick was a limited-edition shade I had just bought last week. I had left it in the car’s glove compartment, still unused. The light turned green. Penelope, clearly an inexperienced driver, slammed on the accelerator. The car shot forward, swerving dangerously and nearly sideswiping the car next to it, earning a chorus of angry honks. She seemed to panic, jerking the steering wheel back and forth. “What is this woman doing? She’s a menace,” my driver muttered under his breath. My heart leaped into my throat. I watched in horror as my car careened through the traffic. It scraped against the back of a city bus, then swerved sharply to the right, heading straight for us. It all happened in a flash. I heard my driver’s terrified scream, followed by the gut-wrenching crunch of metal on metal. The violent impact threw me forward. My abdomen slammed into the back of the front seat. A searing, tearing pain exploded from my core, radiating through every inch of my body. The world spun, and everything went black. In the last second before darkness took me, I felt a warm gush between my legs. The vibrant red bloomed across my white dress, a fatal flower.

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It was the night before my wedding when I learned my high-profile fiancé had a child with another woman. Ryan was at the mahogany table, calmly sorting through the heavy-stock guest list. He didn’t even look up as he delivered the words that shattered my reality: “It’s history, Anna. A loose end from my time in the field. The child was born, and I’m responsible. The woman is simple and has nowhere to go. It’s cleaner to keep them at the estate.” I froze, every muscle locking up. It took a long, hollow moment for the air to return to my lungs. “So the last three years… what does that make us?” “It means I owe you an apology.” He struck a match against the box, the quick, blinding flash illuminating the cold, chiseled planes of his face. “The choice is yours. We can still walk away.” My hand instinctively moved, pressing a protective flat against my lower abdomen. A secret lay buried there—one I’d planned to tell him today, to complete our future. The sudden, utterly unheralded truth slammed into me, a heavy, brutal blow that left my chest aching. “An accident from the border, before I met you,” his voice was still low, devoid of any genuine distress. “The woman, Zahra, she’s not ambitious, and she stays put. Keeps the boy quiet. It’s convenient.” I turned, needing to see him clearly. He stood in the soft lamplight, his custom-tailored dark suit perfectly outlining the shape I had loved for three years. But the layer of frost across his brow was new. It chilled me to the bone. “So all those times over the last three years, when you said you were ‘handling business’…” “I was seeing them.” The admission was quick, devoid of remorse. “A Kincaid heir can’t be left adrift. Zahra handles Leo well enough. The boy is quiet.” Well enough. Quiet. Each word was a shard of glass, embedding itself deep in my eardrum. Three years. Through countless days and nights. He’d had a thousand opportunities to end it with them, or to end it with me. Instead, he’d chosen the comfortable middle path, standing at the center of the scales, meticulously balancing two separate lives. A faint, deep spasm tightened in my stomach. I clutched at the spot. Ryan’s eyes dropped to my hand, his brow furrowing slightly. “You don’t look well.” He took a step toward me, his hand reaching for my forehead. I jerked back violently, my spine hitting the cold ceramic tile of the fireplace. The sudden chill pierced through my silk dress. “Don’t touch me.” His hand hung suspended in the air. His encrypted satellite phone buzzed then, a low, urgent vibration. He glanced at the screen and swiped it silent. It buzzed again. He silenced it again. On the third buzz, he swore under his breath and finally answered. A woman’s voice, thick with a foreign accent and laced with sobs, crackled through the phone. “Ryan… Leo has a fever… He keeps calling for his father… Please, could you come?” Ryan rubbed the bridge of his nose, the weariness suddenly obvious. “It’s fine. I’ll send the doctor immediately.” He ended the call and turned back to me, softening his tone. “She’s high-strung. The boy is delicate. It’s constant drama.” I didn’t speak, I just stared. This scenario had played out countless times over the past three years. His phone always buzzing. Me always the dutiful, understanding fiancée, saying, “You go handle it.” It turned out those hurried exits, those missed holidays, those silent, late-night departures, had sometimes been for them. A mother. A son. I laughed, a ragged, ugly sound, and the tears finally began to stream down my face. “Take me to them.” He was silent for a long time. My own phone vibrated then. The voice, loud and cheerful, filled the dead silence of the room. “Anna! Your father’s sent the invites out! Everyone says Ryan is a solid man, says you picked a winner!” The joyful sound stabbed at my nerve endings. I choked back a sob. “Dad, I have to go! I’ll call you later!” I disconnected the call. Ryan’s voice, now cruelly calm, cut through the tension. “The invites are out, the hotel is booked, the photos are taken,” he said. He paused, letting the weight of the words settle. “I gave you the ceremony you wanted.” I looked up at him. “What are you saying? You think that gives you the right to try and blackmail me? To make me a silent partner in your three-person wedding?” “I’m not blackmailing you.” He walked to the window, turning his back. “I told you, you can walk away.” “But you need to think clearly. Are three years of history, the future we planned, and the expectations of your father and friends… worth sacrificing, just because of a mother and a son?” A mother and a son… I nearly broke, the sound a mix of a laugh and a scream. “They are flesh and blood, Ryan. Your son. The woman who birthed him! They are not assets you can simply manage away!” He turned back, his expression blank. As if I were obsessing over a meaningless detail. “So what do you want?” he demanded. “You want me to ship them out right now? Send them somewhere you’ll never have to see them again?” I swallowed, the breath catching in my throat. My heart pounded painfully against my ribs. His tone, unbelievably, was that of a man offering a concession. “My loyalty is to you. I will give you everything I can.” Everything he could give… But that didn’t include honesty, or a future without a hidden life and a hidden child. I gave a single, hollow laugh. “Get out.” Ryan paused. “Anna…” “I said get out!” I grabbed the nearest thing—a heavy, polished metal sculpture—and hurled it at him with all my strength. He didn’t flinch. The expensive ornament clipped his temple, leaving a quick, vivid streak of red. “Your emotions are running high. Decisions made in anger are always regretted later.” “I’ll come back later when you’ve calmed down.” The door clicked shut softly. I slid down the wall, sinking onto the cold floor. The chasm ripped open in my heart howled with a cold, devastating wind. It told me that everything I’d believed in, expected, and meticulously built over the past three years, had been resting on shifting sand. And now, the sandcastle was gone. My phone buzzed again. It was my father’s friend, Uncle Dave, from back home. I took a deep breath and answered. “Uncle Dave?” His voice was a heavy sigh. “I shouldn’t be telling you this, but seeing your father… I can’t keep it from you, Anna. Your dad… he doesn’t have much time left.” I froze. “Uncle Dave… what are you… saying?” “It’s the late stage. Untreatable. He hid it because you were planning the wedding, and he was afraid you couldn’t handle it. He’s been holding on, just waiting to see you walk down the aisle.” The phone slipped from my numb fingers and hit the floor. A gut-wrenching cry escaped me. I sobbed until the well ran dry, until my body was nothing but a fragile husk. Then, I fumbled for the phone and pressed Ryan’s number. He answered instantly. “Anna?” I used every last ounce of will I possessed to squeeze out the dry, cracked words. “The wedding… is on.” I didn’t tell my father anything when I saw him. I just listened, as always, to his simple, heartfelt advice about the wedding day—what would bring luck and happiness—and his careful, detailed instructions about taking care of myself after the babies came. It was the heavy, meticulous way he imparted this mundane advice that felt less like everyday rambling and more like a final, solemn entrustment. I nodded, agreeing to everything. I massaged his shoulders, tidied the last of the heirlooms he’d painstakingly set aside for my dowry. Sunlight poured into the old living room, just as it had on countless afternoons. But when I stood to get water and accidentally caught my reflection in the mirror— I looked ten years older, and only two days had passed. Before the ceremony, I insisted on meeting the woman and the child. Ryan agreed. The black SUV drove us far outside the city to a highly secured estate. My heart sank lower with every passing mile. This was not what “casually housing them somewhere” looked like. At the black wrought-iron gates, fully armed security detail saluted respectfully. “Mr. Kincaid.” Inside, the home was decorated in a cold, modern style, but every piece of furniture, every artwork, screamed expense. High security. Impeccable taste. Then, I saw her. She was on the turn of the grand staircase, very young, with a striking, exotic beauty, but her eyes were full of timidness. “Ryan…” Her voice was soft and quiet, marked by the thick accent. Ryan gave a curt “Hmm.” There was a slight reproof in his tone. “Why are you down here without shoes? How many times have I told you the stone floor is cold?” “I… I heard the car.” She spoke in a whisper, nervously twisting the fabric of her dress, unable to meet our gaze. “This is Anna Calder,” Ryan introduced me simply. He didn’t specify my identity. He didn’t introduce hers. The woman glanced up quickly, eyes darting over me, and her voice shrunk even further. “Ms. Calder… I am Zahra.” I looked behind her. A boy of about thirteen or fourteen stood deep in the shadow, his features a striking, cold replica of Ryan’s. He watched me with undisguised hostility. Ryan waved him over. “Leo. Come here.” The boy walked slowly, his expression blank, and gave a reluctant, “Father.” Ryan turned to the housekeeper. “Maria, bring Zahra’s house shoes.” The woman looked startled, almost flattered, but too shy to move. The housekeeper brought the shoes. Ryan gestured for her to put them on. I stood there, motionless. Watching him use that possessive, domestic language so naturally, so effortlessly, was like having a bucket of ice water dumped over the three years of warmth I had accumulated. His words for her were those of weary management—treating a problem asset. But his actions were those of habitual care—managing a belonging. It was a muscle memory, ingrained over years. The answer was clear the moment I stepped inside. If I married him, I would only be inflicting the same wound on myself, again. I stayed for less than three minutes before rising. “I need to leave.” Ryan stood up with me. “I’ll take you.” As we walked through the short hallway, the estate manager stopped him to confirm a security detail. It left only Zahra, Leo, and me. I thought, perhaps, she was truly oblivious to my existence. There was no need to expose the ugliness. But as I moved to leave, Zahra timidly blocked my path, her voice soft but now laced with a subtle, sharp venom. “I heard Ms. Calder’s father is sending out invitations everywhere… Truly, what a spectacle. To be so proud of your daughter becoming… the second family.” Slam. I didn’t hold back the force of the blow. Her head snapped sideways, her face instantly swelling and reddening. Her eyes filled with tears, but she didn’t dare to cry aloud. “You… you hit me?!” I stepped closer, towering over her. “Mention my father’s name again, and I will tear that mouth off your face. I promise you, I will.” Ryan rushed back, hearing the noise. He saw Zahra’s swollen face and his expression tightened. “Anna, you promised you wouldn’t make this difficult.” I met his gaze head-on. “Ask her what she just said.” Zahra’s voice was thin and shaky, a genuine whimper now. “Ryan… I didn’t… I only…” The boy, Leo, looked up suddenly, glaring at me. “How dare you hit my mother?!” I looked coldly at the pair, unwilling to entertain the performance. I went straight to the heart of the matter. “Ryan, she just called my father a fool for proudly giving his daughter to you as a mistress! This is the ‘simple and settled’ woman you’ve been keeping?” Ryan inhaled sharply. “Even if she spoke inappropriately, you don’t resort to violence. What happened to you? Why are you being so irrational?” Irrational? I watched him subtly position himself to shield Zahra and Leo. The cold fury inside me was instantly doused with icy water. “She insulted my dying father, and I defended him. That is irrational?” He pinched the bridge of his nose, taking a breath to steady himself. “Can we please be adults about this? Not here. This is becoming embarrassing.” I looked at his perpetually logical face and suddenly realized the futility of any further argument. I raised my chin and forced the burning tears back. I had once desperately longed for this public, celebrated wedding. Now, I was only grateful it was a mere formality. A performance that would allow me to walk away clean. The wedding day was bright and sunny. Everything went according to plan, until the moment before the exchange of rings. The grand doors of the ballroom burst open. A frail figure, Zahra, stumbled in, her face pale and distraught. Her voice was weak and tearful. “Ryan… Leo… he’s gone! I can’t find him anywhere… I’m scared…” Before she could finish, she collapsed onto the floor. My heart lurched violently. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the forced smile on my father’s face. Every surging emotion was brutally suppressed. Ryan was already making a move to jump off the altar. I gripped his hand, my fingers digging into his wrist. I looked up at him, pleading with a desperate, self-sacrificing humility. “Ryan… twenty minutes. Just twenty minutes. Let’s finish the ritual. She’ll be cared for.” “My father is watching… Don’t let him think… I made the wrong choice… Please. Just this once. Play the role for me, okay?” I tried to give him a smile, but it felt more like a grimace. Ryan’s brow was deeply furrowed, his voice sharp with condemnation. “Zahra is collapsed, Leo is missing, and you want me to stay here and finish this twenty-minute act? Is your performance more important than a child’s life?” The next second, he wrenched his hand free, the force sending me stumbling back, knocking over the massive champagne tower. And in front of hundreds of stunned guests, he strode quickly toward the collapsed woman. “Ryan!” I yelled, using the last of my breath. “If you walk out that door today, we are done. You and I. Forever.” The immense ballroom fell into a terrifying, deep silence. He only turned his head slightly, throwing back a single, cold line. “You, right now, are a stranger to me.” Then, he signaled for his men to lift Zahra, and walked out without a backward glance. The officiant stood awkwardly in place. My legs gave out. I collapsed onto the cold marble floor. The pain in my lower abdomen was a sudden, violent tearing. Until the pristine white silk of my dress began to bloom with a dark, shocking red… And with a dull, heavy thump. My father’s frail, desperate hand—the one that had wanted to secure my happiness before he left—finally let go. The car had barely started moving when Zahra stirred in Ryan’s arms. She leaned weakly against his shoulder, whispering, “I didn’t mean to, Ryan. I was just so scared when I couldn’t find Leo.” Ryan gave distracted, noncommittal responses. The image of Anna’s final, betrayed look flashed in his mind. A strange, heavy feeling pulled at his chest, but he quickly dismissed it, replacing it with annoyance. Women were endless drama. Did she really value her perfectly staged ceremony over his safety and comfort? His phone buzzed. He answered, his tone curt. “Say it.” Ace, his second-in-command, sounded uncharacteristically panicked. “Ryan, about Anna… something big happened!”

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To save my mother, I secretly donated a kidney to her. But the “real” daughter claimed the credit for my sacrifice. Disregarding our eighteen years of mother-daughter bond, Mom kicked me out of the house, scolding me: “No wonder you’re not a Vance. Raising you for eighteen years was less worth it than the daughter I just found!” I tried desperately to explain, but she wouldn’t believe a word. Until I was rushed into the ER for severe post-op anemia. I cried and begged my mom to save me. Instead, she crushed my only blood bag. “You ungrateful wretch! You deserve to die.” Later, as she wished, I really died. And Mom went insane over a kidney donation confidentiality agreement. 1 Post-surgery, pale and weak, I went to check on Mom’s recovery. Not wanting to worry her, I peeked through the door. Seeing her rosy complexion, I knew the transplant was a success. Just as I was about to go change out of my hospital gown to celebrate, a familiar voice called out from behind. “Sweetie, where are you going?” Mom’s voice was choked with emotion. My heart skipped a beat. Did she find out I was the donor? I clutched the confidentiality agreement in my hand, unsure of how to start. Suddenly, a girl about my age shoved past me. “Mom, are you feeling better? I thought I’d never see you again.” Mom stroked Chloe’s hair lovingly. “Silly child, it’s all thanks to you donating a kidney. Otherwise, I’d be gone.” I knew Chloe. She showed up a few days before Mom’s surgery, claiming to be the long-lost biological daughter of the Vance family, armed with a DNA test. Mom immediately renamed her Chloe Vance. Before they could celebrate their reunion, Mom’s kidney disease flared up, and she was hospitalized. While everyone was busy testing for a match, I disappeared. Because I matched first and was already wheeled into the OR. I hadn’t even had the chance to tell Mom, yet Chloe had already stolen the credit? The agreement in my hand clearly stated the donor: “Patient’s Biological Daughter.” I am Mom’s biological daughter. Who is Chloe? As far as I knew, Mom only gave birth to one child—me. Whoever she was, trying to deceive my mom and steal my credit, I had to expose her. Ignoring the pain from my incision, I squeezed through the crowd. “Mom, are you feeling any better?” Mom just had surgery; she couldn’t get agitated. So I didn’t confront her directly. Her health came first. Mom, who was smiling just a moment ago, dropped her face when she saw me. “Unlucky for you, I’m still alive.” I froze, frowning slightly. “I didn’t mean that. I’m genuinely worried about you.” Mom scoffed. “You didn’t mean what?” “Where were you when everyone was rushing to get tested for me?” “Even if you’re not biological, I raised you for eighteen years.” “Even the neighbor’s dog whines when it sees me in pain, but you were nowhere to be found.” I stood there, stunned, as everyone’s gaze turned to me. I never expected Mom to humiliate me in front of so many people. Or compare me to a dog. Chloe seized the moment, gently patting Mom’s chest. “Don’t be mad, Mom. Sister Harper must have had her own things to do.” “But no matter how busy, what could be more important than Mom’s life?” Chloe covered her mouth in mock surprise. “Oh, I forgot!” “Sister Harper is just the fake daughter who stole my identity, not Mom’s real flesh and blood.” “Forget it, I don’t blame you. After all, there’s no blood bond.” Chloe peeled an apple for Mom as she spoke. The relatives present didn’t know why Mom called Chloe her daughter. Now she gave herself the perfect opening. Since she brought it up, I might as well clear the air. I walked to Mom’s side, righteous indignation filling me. “Chloe, you know perfectly well whether you’re the real Vance daughter. Do I have to expose you in front of everyone?” I was imposing. I thought she would be scared, have a conscience, and stop lying to Mom. Chloe walked up to me. “Sister Harper, I know you don’t want to accept the truth.” “But you can’t push me!” I didn’t understand what she meant. Suddenly, Chloe threw herself against the corner of the table. From that angle, no one but us could see what happened. Chloe clutched her stomach, blood seeping out. The location of the wound was exactly where my incision was. Mom was furious and slapped me hard. “Harper Vance, how did I raise such an ingrate!” 2 I stared at Chloe’s wound, unable to process what I saw. “Help! Doctor! Chloe fainted!” Mom stood up anxiously, shoving me aside. The double impact tore my incision open. Mom paused at the sound, looking at me suspiciously. “What’s wrong with you?” Before I could speak, Chloe raised a weak hand. “Don’t blame Sister Harper. I shouldn’t have stolen Mom from her, or insisted on donating my kidney.” I opened my mouth, but the pain in my waist silenced me. Mom looked at me clutching the same spot as Chloe and sneered. “You’re not going to say you donated a kidney too, are you?” My eyes lit up. I nodded vigorously. But Mom doused me with cold water. “Eighteen years and you’ve learned to lie. No wonder you’re not a Vance.” “I don’t know where you came from, mooching off us for eighteen years. Bad blood truly never changes.” I looked at Mom in disbelief. Before Chloe appeared, she never spoke to me like this. Before I could grieve, the doctor arrived. My hand was soaked in blood. A strong survival instinct surged through my dizzy brain. “Save me first!” That Chloe is a fake. As long as I survive, I can explain everything to Mom. I stumbled to the doctor’s feet. “Save me first.” With my last ounce of strength, I lifted my shirt, revealing a four-inch incision. Everyone gasped. Even Mom looked shocked. “Harper, why do you have such a big…” “Mom, Chloe might not make it. You have to live well with her kidney.” Chloe raised her hand to touch Mom’s face. Almost instantly, Mom kicked me away and carried Chloe to the doctor. “Doctor, save my daughter first! She just donated a kidney to me.” “You must save her!” The doctors quickly put Chloe on a stretcher, then prepared a second one for me. Thank god doctors have a duty to save lives. I was glad I showed the doctor my wound. Otherwise, I would have bled to death in the ward. If I died, who would clear my name? I exhaled a long breath. But my relief was short-lived. “The patient is hemorrhaging. The blood bank is low on her type.” “Good news is we have one bag left that matches. Bad news is we have two patients!” I widened my eyes in disbelief. “Chloe has the same blood type as me?” 3 How could there be such a coincidence? I have a DNA test, she has one. I have a kidney donation scar, she has one. I have post-op anemia, she has it too. I gripped the bedsheets. When Mom passed the OR, I called out to her. “Mom, give the blood bag to me, please?” “I really am your daughter.” My bloody handprints stained the glass of the OR door. Mom looked impatient. “You wouldn’t even donate a kidney, and now you beg me to save you? Keep dreaming.” I pulled up my shirt with all my might. “Mom, I don’t know why Chloe has the same scar, but I really donated the kidney.” “I grew up with you. How could I leave you to die?” Mom saw my scars again. “Then why does Chloe have the exact same one?” Before I could answer, the doctor came to ask for Mom’s decision. “Mrs. Vance, you are the guardian for both. We only have one blood bag. You must choose.” Tears streamed down my face as I pounded on the glass. “Mom, save me! Please, I really am your daughter!” Mom gritted her teeth, her voice decisive. “Save Chloe!” My eyes widened in horror. Mom really wouldn’t give me the chance to live. I was the daughter she raised. Yet I meant less than a “real daughter” who just showed up. Just because Chloe “donated” a kidney? But I was the donor! I slapped the glass hard. “Mom, believe me! I really am your daughter! Please, save me!” “Mom, please!” “Don’t go!” Mom looked at me with disgust. “Who knows if you were swapped when you got lost as a kid? Maybe you’re faking the scar now that Chloe is back.” My mind went blank. I did get lost once as a child. But Grandma found me. That’s no reason for Mom to distrust me. Is donating an organ the only proof of kinship to her? Won’t she even investigate? I gave everything for her. I don’t understand why Chloe appeared out of nowhere. She fit the narrative so perfectly. In my despair, even I started to think I was the fake, and Chloe was the real daughter. But that’s not the truth! It’s not! Blood gushed from the wound in my waist. Am I going to die? As my vision blurred, a nurse rushed in with a blood bag. “Quick! Get her on the table for transfusion!” My heart jolted. “Did Mom give me the only chance?” “Does she believe I’m her daughter?” 4 I lay on the operating table. Doctors and nurses raced against time to save me. As the wound was stitched, the blood transfusion began. The weakness faded slightly. I thought I was a goner. Mom must have believed me. My lips moved slightly, cracking open a large split. The nurse told me not to move. I nodded. Suddenly, Mom stormed into the OR. “Chloe didn’t get the blood! Why are you getting it?” “Chloe just came back to me. She saved my life. I can’t let her die!” “Chloe is unconscious, and you’re here enjoying the fruits of her labor!” I looked up sharply. This blood wasn’t Mom’s choice. It was Chloe’s sacrifice? No… “Mom, I thought you gave it to me.” I bit my lip, feeling wronged. Mom’s eyes bulged with rage. “Me? Give it to an ingrate like you? Never!” “Chloe’s life is hanging by a thread. I wouldn’t save you even if you died!” With that, Mom squeezed the blood bag until it burst. Watching my only lifeline destroyed by my own mother, I broke down. “Mom! I’m going to die! Why won’t you believe me?!” “I am your daughter!” “I donated the kidney! Why won’t you believe me?!” I screamed the words. Mom froze, her aggressive demeanor faltering. She reached out subconsciously. “Harper, I…” Before she could finish, the doctor announced, “Chloe is awake.” Mom’s eyes lit up with excitement, and she ran to Chloe. I lay on the cold table, my heart sinking to the abyss. The nurse kept trying to save me. But I had already been diagnosed with severe anemia. That bag was my only chance. Why didn’t Mom give me a chance to live? Why? Large tears rolled down my cheeks, mixing with the blood gushing from my mouth. My face was sticky. I couldn’t tell blood from tears. The nurse tried everything. But I was running dry. I never imagined donating a kidney to save Mom would be the start of my death. I never imagined why a “real daughter” would suddenly appear. In my despair, I wondered if I was the impostor. But the truth wasn’t like that! Blood poured from my mouth. I knew my time was up. The heart monitor beeped beside me. I looked at the ceiling, unwilling to accept this. “God, why play this joke on me?” “Why let a stranger ruin my life?!” The monitor flatlined. I felt a massive force pulling me. Floating in mid-air, looking down at my gruesome corpse, I realized I was truly dead. My face was bloodless, paler than bleached pork. Now that I’m dead, Mom must be happy, right? The force pulled my soul to Mom’s side. She was weeping, holding Chloe tight. “Thank god it was just a scare. I thought I’d never see you again.” The usually poised career woman was now a tearful mess. She used to worry about me like this when I was sick. But since Chloe appeared, everything changed. Just as Chloe was about to cuddle up to Mom, a strange electronic voice echoed in the room. “Warning! Warning! Transmigrator used illegal operations during the mission, causing the death of the original protagonist.” “Mission failed. Punishment: Three days and nights of electric shock.” Mom looked at Chloe, who was being dragged away by an invisible force, in shock. “What’s happening, daughter?” Massive currents of electricity coursed through Chloe. Mom realized the electronic voice wasn’t a hallucination. “You’re not my daughter?!” 5 Chloe’s body stiffened. After the shock, she collapsed, paralyzed. The system’s punishment wasn’t continuous. It paused to let her recover, then started again. The waiting was more torture than the pain. Mom grabbed Chloe’s shoulders, shaking her awake. “What was that system?” “And are you really not my daughter?” Mom’s grip tightened. Chloe curled up in pain. “Mom, I am your daughter. It hurts.” Mom repeated, “Explain what that voice meant!” Chloe’s eyes widened. “You… you heard it?” Mom paused. She was smart. The truth was right there. Chloe wasn’t her daughter; she was a transmigrator. Mom choked out, “Then… did you donate the kidney?” Chloe tried to lie for her mission. But another round of shocks forced the truth out. I was the “Real Daughter” in a switched-at-birth story. When I got lost as a child, Chloe, the transmigrator, was supposed to be the “Real Daughter” swapped by the nanny, suffering abuse until reclaiming her identity. But to speed up her “capture target” progress (Mom), Chloe cheated. She decided that if I died, Mom’s guilt would transfer to her as love. So she forged the DNA test, the scar… everything to mimic me. Mom trembled, slapping Chloe across the face. “So to achieve your goal, you made me say those horrible things to Harper?” Chloe curled up, silent, as the next shock hit. Mom’s pupils constricted. “My Harper!” She ran in her heels to my OR. She arrived just as the nurse pulled the white sheet over my face. “What are you doing! My daughter is fine! Why cover her face?” “You’re cursing her! I’ll report you!”

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We were on a reality show for couples, sitting around a campfire. The host asked the question that would end my marriage: “Among the three couples here tonight, who is your true ideal partner?” My husband, Finn York—the newly minted A-list actor—didn’t hesitate. Right in front of my face, he pointed a finger at another man’s wife: his high school sweetheart, Hailey Vance. My hand, half-raised to point at him, froze in mid-air. The awkwardness was suffocating. Finn looked completely unbothered. He smiled that charming smile and explained, “The whole point of this show is authenticity, right? So I have to follow my heart. I’m choosing my true ideal love.” In an instant, every camera and every pair of eyes turned to me. I felt the mockery, the pity, and the hunger for drama prickling my skin like needles. That night, after filming wrapped, Finn didn’t come to our tent. Instead, he boldly took Hailey’s arm and walked into the darkness, heading for the glamping tent under the stars. They were ready to enjoy their long-awaited reunion, reigniting an old flame. I was left standing alone on the windy edge of the Mojave Desert, clutching a wool blanket I had brought because I was afraid he’d get cold. After a long time, I pulled out my satellite phone and called my executive assistant. “For tomorrow’s Academy Awards ceremony,” I said, my voice steady, “replace my husband’s highlight reel. I want the footage of his affair played on the big screen instead.” “Consider the last five years the price of my blindness.” 1 The second I hung up the phone, a cold sneer came from behind me. I turned around to see Hailey Vance standing there, shivering in a short skirt but looking triumphant. Her eyes swept over me with disdain. She looked at me like I was an ant she was about to crush. “Scarlett, what are you doing standing out here? You aren’t planning to eavesdrop on us all night, are you?” Hailey’s tone was arrogant, dripping with malice. I clenched my fists but said nothing. Before this show, Hailey wasn’t a stranger to me. Five years ago, when I met Finn, he was a nobody—an extra struggling to get a single line. We fell in love, or so I thought. Finn had told me about Hailey. She was the ex-girlfriend who dumped him when he was broke. Whenever he mentioned her, he would tear up, looking broken and vulnerable. Then he would hold me tight, begging me never to leave him like she did. I loved him so much back then. I reassured him over and over again. So, when I first found out Finn was cheating on me with Hailey, I couldn’t believe it. He hated her. How could he be sleeping with her? But the truth doesn’t care about my disbelief. It was right in front of me. Seeing my silence, Hailey stepped closer. “I’m not afraid to tell you the truth. I’m actually one of the investors for this show.” “The reason I invited Finn is simple.” “We needed some alone time. If you’re smart, you won’t interrupt us.” Hailey poked my chest with a manicured finger as she spoke. I knew she was an investor. Two years ago, when Finn and I got married, Hailey sent a gift. It was a tiara encrusted with diamonds and a note: You will always be my Prince Charming. Finn threw a massive tantrum in front of me. He tossed the tiara into the trash without hesitation. I spent hours calming him down just so the wedding could proceed. Back then, I thought he truly loathed her. I forgot the oldest rule in the book: the opposite of love isn’t hate; it’s indifference. Hate is just love that’s lost its way. A week before this show started, I found that “trashed” tiara. It was sitting polished and pristine in Finn’s safe. He cherished it. My reason for joining this show was simple, too. I just wanted closure for the last five years of my life. My mind kept replaying the image of Finn holding Hailey, walking into her tent. He didn’t even glance at me. No explanation. Not a single word. It was as if I was a stranger. “If you want him so bad,” I said, grabbing Hailey’s finger and twisting it slightly, forcing her to look at me, “why don’t you get a divorce and marry him?” Hailey froze, then laughed—a loud, manic sound. “Scarlett Sterling, are you brain-dead?” “Why would I divorce my husband to marry him?” “I can sleep with him right now without all that hassle.” As soon as she finished speaking, Finn’s impatient voice called out from the tent nearby. She yanked her hand away, grabbed something from her designer bag on the chair, blew me a mocking kiss, and sashayed into the tent. I saw clearly what she grabbed. A box of condoms. 2 Not long after Hailey entered the tent, the sounds began. Heavy breathing, low moans. In the empty silence of the desert night, it was impossible to ignore. I stood there, rooted to the spot. It was intentional self-torture. I wanted the wound to be ripped open so wide that it couldn’t be ignored. Only then could I kill the hope and move on. As the sounds of Finn and Hailey grew louder, my mind drifted back to when we first met. Five years ago, outside a studio lot in LA. He was crying because an A-list actor had humiliated him. I was sitting on the curb, defeated because my startup couldn’t secure funding. Two failures, meeting by chance. We bonded over our broken dreams. We became best friends, and then lovers. Finn’s road to stardom wasn’t easy. At our lowest point, we lived in a basement apartment in the Valley, eating instant ramen for dinner every night. We’d finish the salty broth, lie on a mattress on the floor, and dream about the future. We’d cry together, and I’d hold him, promising him that one day, he’d be a star. Later, Finn started getting bigger roles. My company finally took off, becoming a media empire. Everything was getting better. Tomorrow was the Academy Awards. Finn was the favorite for Best Actor. I hadn’t told him yet, but I was the majority investor behind the ceremony. I also hadn’t told him that most of the roles he “auditioned” for and won were secured because of my influence. I wanted to surprise him tomorrow. It was supposed to be his big night, and our second wedding anniversary. What a joke. “Why are you still standing here?” A man’s voice broke my trance. I turned to see Hailey’s husband, Julian Ford, standing a few feet away. With his back to the moonlight, he looked pale and ghostly. In a way, Julian was the only person who could understand how I felt. He sat down on a rock next to me. Surprisingly, he cracked a joke. “Locked out of your tent too?” I didn’t know much about Julian. I knew the tabloids hated him. He was always painted as the villain, the “leech” living off Hailey’s family wealth. But after a few days on set, he seemed nothing like the rumors. “Your wife is in there with my husband,” I said, confused. “Aren’t you angry?” “Why should I be? Marrying her wasn’t my choice anyway.” He shrugged. “Honestly? I hope they hook up permanently. Maybe then my suffering will end.” “And I won’t have to be the scapegoat for Finn’s scandals anymore.” Julian told me the truth. All these years, Hailey and Finn never stopped talking. Whenever Finn had a scandal brewing—skipping school, bar fights, bullying allegations—Hailey would manipulate the press to pin it on Julian. I listened, feeling a knot form in my stomach. “If she treats you like that, why don’t you divorce her?” “Maybe because… if I leave her, no one will even know I exist anymore. She has the power to erase me.” Julian stared at the horizon. His eyes were the only bright things in the dark desert. We sat there all night, talking until sunrise. The next morning, Finn finally emerged from Hailey’s tent. When he saw me, his expression didn’t change. No guilt. Just arrogance. He spoke like he was giving orders to an assistant. “Scarlett, if the producers ask, tell them you locked me out of the tent last night. Got it?” 3 There was a visible hickey on Finn’s neck. He looked refreshed. Anyone with eyes could tell what happened last night. The old Finn never spoke to me like this. He used to be gentle, a gentleman. I realized he changed after he landed his first blockbuster role. That was probably when he decided I was no longer worthy of him. “Why should I?” I asked calmly. “Why should I take the fall for your dirt?” Finn blinked, surprised I was pushing back. Before he could speak, Hailey stepped out, sneering. “Scarlett, don’t bite the hand that feeds you. If it wasn’t for Finn, you’d just be a nobody, a civilian.” “If you’re upset, how about this? After the show, I’ll set you up with a livestream account. I’ll toss you some traffic. Good enough?” She spoke like she was tossing a coin to a beggar. My expression didn’t waver. I looked her dead in the eye. “What’s wrong with being a nobody?” “At least a nobody doesn’t have to deal with two pieces of trash polluting the air.” Hailey’s smile vanished. Her face twisted into an ugly scowl. She marched toward me, raising her hand to slap me. “What did you say?!” Just as she swung, Julian appeared out of nowhere and stepped between us. He was pale, trembling, but he stood his ground. “Hailey, we’re filming! Everyone is watching, you can’t…” Smack. Before Julian could finish, Hailey slapped him across the face. Hard. It was so fast no one reacted. “Who do you think you are?! Trying to stop me?” Hailey scoffed, grinding her teeth. Julian’s cheek swelled instantly. He turned his head away, a single tear caught in his eyelashes. I grabbed his arm to steady him and glared at Hailey. “He’s your husband! How can you hit him?” “Ha. You can’t even control your own man, and you want to lecture me about mine?” Finn walked over and wrapped his arm around Hailey’s waist, as if her violence was completely justified. “Scarlett, if I were you, I’d shut up.” “Unless you want a divorce.” Finn narrowed his eyes, threatening me. He knew I loved him. He used that love as a weapon for years. He thought the word “divorce” would make me beg. But I didn’t even look at him. My eyes were on Julian. Julian shook his head at me, signaling he was okay. “I’ll take you to get some ice,” I whispered to him. “Thank you.” I turned to leave with Julian, but Finn wasn’t done. “Scarlett! Are you listening to me?!” I stopped, but didn’t turn around. “Fine. Let’s divorce then.” 4 Finn went silent. The only sound was his phone ringing. The Awards were tonight. It was probably his agent. Finn answered, grunted a few words, and hung up. His voice turned icy. “Scarlett, don’t think playing hard to get will work.” “You divorcing me? Yeah, when pigs fly.” “Since you want to be ungrateful, don’t bother coming to the ceremony tonight. Hailey is coming with me.” I kept walking. I left Finn’s voice behind in the dust. Hailey’s slap had been brutal. Julian’s face was a mess. Judging by how practiced she was, this wasn’t the first time. I finally understood why Julian had been so hesitant last night. He had been enduring this abuse for years in silence. I looked at this gentle, broken man and felt a surge of protectiveness. Julian looked down, smiling bitterly. “Great. Now Hailey is going to the Awards with your husband, and I’m going to get dragged online again for not being supportive.” I put down the ice pack. “It’s okay. I’ll take you.” Julian looked up, eyes wide. “You? But…” “If they don’t care about reputation, why should we?” Julian looked terrified. I knew he was afraid of Hailey’s wrath. But eventually, he nodded. I called my assistant. An hour later, a stretch Rolls Royce pulled up to the dusty set. Julian’s jaw dropped. “I thought you were a civilian?!” “I never said I was broke.” I shrugged and ushered him into the car. We stopped at a luxury spa to have a makeup artist cover his bruise with professional concealer. By the time we arrived at the Dolby Theatre, the red carpet was in full swing. We arrived just as Finn and Hailey were posing. The livestream comments were flying across the screen on the monitors. [Wait, Finn is married… why is he with Hailey?] [Does the show imply they are a thing now? Disgusting.] [It’s definitely a PR stunt! The producers are sacrificing our Finn to boost some other couple!] I glanced at Julian. He was calm. He expected the hate. When we stepped onto the carpet, the photographers hesitated. The host looked bored. My face wasn’t famous, and Julian was “the loser husband.” We walked into the venue and bumped right into Finn and Hailey. “What are you doing here?! Scarlett, stop following me like a lost dog!” Finn’s voice was full of disgust. Even his handsome face looked ugly in that moment. I smiled. “We were invited. Just like you.” Finn started to argue, but Hailey cut him off. “Forget it. With Julian’s C-list status, they’re probably sitting in the nosebleeds. Let’s not waste our breath.” “Julian, bringing a nobody to the Oscars? Did you hit your head?” Hailey laughed, mocking us. Julian just smiled sadly and said nothing. They strutted past us, noses in the air. Julian tugged my sleeve. “Come on, our seats are probably in the back.” I grabbed his wrist and pulled him toward the stage. “Nope. Follow me.” I led him straight to the front row—the VIP section reserved for studio heads and top investors. We sat down directly in front of Finn and Hailey. “Scarlett, are you insane?!” Finn hissed from behind me. “Those are producer seats! Do you want to get kicked out by security? Don’t drag me down with you!” Julian looked nervous. “Scarlett, maybe we should move…” “Sit,” I said, squeezing his hand. I turned my head slightly, whispering to Finn. “Worry about yourself.” Finn opened his mouth to curse me out, but the ceremony began. He had to fix his face for the cameras. I could feel his glare burning a hole in the back of my head. Finally, the category for Best Actor arrived. The spotlight hit Finn. On the big screen, he feigned surprise, hugged Hailey, and walked up to the stage. He looked triumphant, gripping the golden statue. He launched into his prepared speech. “I am so humbled. Thank you to the Academy.” “I want to thank the person who stood by me, whose encouragement got me here.” “She made me a better man.” “And to my fans…” Before he could finish, a gasp rippled through the audience. Finn looked confused, but kept talking. Then he saw the look in my eyes. I was smiling. A cold, mocking smile. He realized something was wrong. Finn spun around to look at the massive screen behind him.

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