Category: English

The day I was buried in the avalanche, my biological brother saved the usurper—the fake heiress—by slicing through my safety cable. The snow was climbing past my head, my body heat rapidly leaching away, and I screamed at Blake through frozen lips. “Brother! Don’t leave me! Or my adoptive father’s people will flatten this mountain and hunt you down!” I had been back with the Harrington family for a year, playing the meek, agreeable daughter, and had never dared mention my adoptive parents overseas. They didn’t know that the couple who raised me were the commanders of a top-tier international mercenary group, The Vanguard. My adoptive father, Hawk, was a legendary sharpshooter; my mother, T.N.T., was an explosives expert. I was their most favored—their only—princess. But my brother merely smirked and pulled the cable fully back. “Stop making up fairy tales, Sandy.” “You’re a lying country bumpkin. Where are these ‘powerful connections’ you speak of? I brought you skiing despite the embarrassment, and now you’re trying to compete with Ronnie? Don’t you know she can’t handle any kind of shock?” With that, he took the fake heiress by the arm and turned to leave. “Since your adoptive parents are so powerful, why don’t you have them send a chopper for you?” I watched the last sliver of light disappear above me, and with the last ounce of strength, I pressed the red panic button on my satellite tracker. Blake didn’t know. That single signal would mark this entire mountain range as his grave. Blake’s silhouette vanished into the blizzard. All that was left was the howling wind, mocking my own foolish yearning. I strained to open my eyes. Only Blake’s personal assistant, Gary, was near me. He looked down, his eyes a conflicted mess. A primal spark of hope, the sheer instinct to survive, flared in my chest. “He… help me…” Gary’s hand started to reach out, stalled in the frigid air, and then retreated. “Miss Sandy, I’m sorry.” “Mr. Harrington said Miss Ronnie was extremely distressed and that everyone needs to escort her down immediately. He said the avalanche has stopped and you’re not buried deep. He mentioned your ‘rural background’ makes you hardy—that a little snow won’t kill you. He said you should just calm down.” Gary looked away, a flicker of shame in his eyes. One simple tug from him, and I could have climbed out. But he did nothing. He chose to obey that blind, entitled fool of a CEO, abandoning a living person in this icy tomb. The sound of his footsteps—the distinctive crunch, crunch on the packed snow—faded into the distance. I was officially the discard. I strained every muscle, trying to reach the hard object sewn into my thermal underwear. My mother, T.N.T., had given it to me before I came home to the Harringtons. Sandy, she had said, this is your lifeline. Don’t use it unless you absolutely have to. Because once you do, the peace—the delusion—is over. I had laughed then, saying with my real parents and brother, I’d never need it. Now, I realized what a ridiculous, pathetic joke that was. I used the last of my failing strength to press the red button. Beep. The indicator light flickered faintly twice, then went dark. The satellite signal was sent. I didn’t know if I could hold on until they crossed continents to find me. After all, this was a remote, restricted zone because of the avalanche. Just then, my phone screen, pressed against my chest, suddenly lit up. A unique vibration frequency. It was a message on the “Vanguard Family” group chat. Even with the weakest signal, the message found its way through on this special frequency. My brother, Jax, sent an image. He was wiping down a heavy-caliber sniper rifle—the barrel was a cold, black gleam. The caption was simple: [Sandy, location received.] [We were just wrapping up an assignment on the border, only two hundred miles out.] [This mountain range is beautiful. Perfect for a grave.] I tried to laugh, but my face wouldn’t move. I wanted to reply, but my fingers were too frozen to tap the screen. My consciousness was beginning to blur. In the haze, I was back in those years overseas. A place chaotic and lethal, yet brimming with fierce life. I was five when I was kidnapped and ended up dumped near the border. It was Hawk who dug me out of a pile of bodies. He complained I was dirty, but he gave me half a stale energy bar. Hawk, my adoptive father, a quiet man and the world’s best sharpshooter, taught me how to strip and reassemble a Glock in three seconds flat. He said a gun is a partner, more reliable than any person. My adoptive mother, T.N.T., was an elegant psycho. She taught me how to make liquid explosives using common household cleaners. She said, if anyone ever crosses you, blow them up. Don’t bother with decorum. And Jax. My adopted brother who climbed out of his own graveyard. He always saved the best rations for me, then broke the hands and feet of anyone who dared make me cry. I had walked away from that life—that existence on a razor’s edge, entirely encased in a love so absolute—for a normal life. For the warmth of “blood ties.” I thought that shared DNA would secure me a real, normal family. I took off the mask of “The Red Fox” and played the timid, fragile true heiress, Sandy Sinclair. Once, Blake handed me a cup of water when I had a fever. I had been so moved, so tearful, believing it was the warmth of home. The reality was a shattering slap in the face. I later learned that water was Ronnie’s, and she had tossed it to me because it was too hot for her delicate hands. A jolt of agonizing pain dragged me back from the memories. It wasn’t the warmth of rescue; it was the sharp, metallic crunch against bone. CRACK. A rescue worker’s iron shovel slammed hard into my thigh. I choked on a silent scream as my consciousness snapped back. I was being roughly dragged out of the snow pile. There was no stretcher, no sign of emergency medical care. The search team member stared at me with unconcealed disgust. “Tough one, aren’t you? Didn’t die after all that time buried.” “You wasted half an hour of our time. Mr. Harrington is furious.” He didn’t even attempt basic first aid or wound stabilization. He just threw me onto a flat sled used for hauling gear. Bouncing and jostling, I was dragged back to the main camp. The medical tent was right there. Warm, yellow light poured out, accompanied by the low roar of a forced-air heater. Two bodyguards grabbed me and hauled me inside. The heat was overwhelming, but it wasn’t for me. Ronnie Chandler, wrapped in thick cashmere blankets, sat in the only cushioned chair. She was surrounded by doctors and nurses, all of them looking frantic. “Miss Ronnie, is the scratch painful?” “Hurry! Bring the best antibacterial cream!” I struggled to lift my eyelids. Ronnie had a barely visible scrape on her finger, not even a drop of blood. And that single, precious heater was aimed directly at her hand. I was soaked through, the skin and muscle on my thigh ripped open, bleeding onto the muddy corner of the tent floor. Ignored. Gary, the assistant, hurried past, stopped, and saw my condition. He paused, then tossed a grimy, used towel at me. “Wipe yourself up. Don’t mess up the floor.” “Mr. Harrington is with Miss Ronnie, helping with her trauma counseling. Don’t cause trouble. Stay in this corner and don’t move.” I clenched my jaw, staring at the filthy towel. The last flicker of hope in my eyes went out. I was dumped in a derelict storage room. It was drafty and barely warmer than outside. No doctor, no medicine. I leaned against the cold wall, my thigh still leaking blood. The door swung open. Ronnie, dressed in a pink silk hospital gown, walked in. In her hand, she casually twirled a pair of medical surgical scissors. Her face was dominated by the chilling smile of a victor. The weak, delicate persona was gone, replaced by a look of sheer malice and calculating cruelty. She dismissed the guards outside, then locked the door. “My, my, Sister. You really have nine lives, don’t you?” Ronnie walked to me and crouched down. The tip of the scissors traced lightly across my bruised, cut-up face. The sensation was spine-crawling. “Did you know? That safety cable? It wasn’t an accident.” She leaned in close, whispering in my ear. “I sliced it halfway through with a razor blade the night before.” “And the avalanche?” “I had someone set off a micro-detonation at a specific stress point.” I snapped my head up, glaring at her. Even with my suspicions, hearing her confess to mass murder just to win an argument was absurd. Ronnie read my thoughts and giggled hysterically. “What’s the worry? I have my brother to protect me. I just wanted to see who he would choose when faced with life or death.” “The result is obvious, isn’t it?” She tapped my cheek with the scissors, her eyes full of contempt. “You, the ‘true’ heiress, lost everything. In this family, blood means nothing. Only performance matters.” I wanted to lift my hand and tear her throat out. But I was so weak I couldn’t even manage the effort. Ronnie was elated by my helplessness. “Don’t blame me. Blame yourself for showing up.” “Those so-called adoptive parents of yours must be utter trash, right? I heard they operated overseas? Scavengers from some refugee camp?” The mention of my family shifted the expression in my eyes. It was the look of a predator staring at its prey. I managed a cold, chilling smile. “You will regret that.” Ronnie flinched, startled by the sheer, unadulterated killing intent she saw—a look she’d never encountered in her privileged bubble. She was instantly enraged, raising her hand and delivering a hard, brutal slap across my face. SMACK! The blow was so powerful my ears rang. “You filthy wench! How dare you glare at me!” She stood up, planting her high heel directly onto my wounded thigh. She twisted her foot, grinding the heel in. “Agh—!” A low, guttural cry escaped me as the wound burst open again, fresh blood pooling on the floor. Ronnie rubbed the sole of her shoe on my soiled clothing with a look of disgust. “Blake will have you eliminated soon. Your existence is an inconvenience, a threat.” “Once you’re dead, everything in the Harrington family will go back to being mine.” She raised the scissors, seemingly ready to stab my eye. Just then, frantic footsteps sounded outside the door. Ronnie’s reaction was lightning-fast. She dropped the scissors, scrambled to the floor, and tore at her hair. In an instant, she was the trembling, wide-eyed porcelain doll again. The door burst open. Blake strode in. His face instantly darkened, ready to rain fury. “What in God’s name happened!” Ronnie crawled to him like a desperate refugee, burying herself in his arms. The tears were instantaneous, flowing thick and fast. “Brother! Sister… she’s gone mad!” She held up her perfectly intact hand, trembling as she pointed at me. “I came in to bring her some medicine, out of the kindness of my heart.” “But she woke up and grabbed the scissors, trying to stab me! She said she’d ruin my face! That I stole her life!” “Brother, I’m so scared. My chest hurts so much…” With a dramatic sigh, she rolled her eyes and went limp in his arms, expertly feigning a faint. Oscar owed her an award. Blake didn’t even glance at me in the corner. His world centered entirely on the ‘innocent’ woman in his arms. “Ronnie! Ronnie, talk to me!” He shouted, frantic, then turned to me. His eyes were pure, murderous hatred. “Sandy Sinclair! You vicious snake! If Ronnie suffers one single consequence from this, I’ll make you pay with your life!” He marched over and delivered a vicious kick directly to my bleeding thigh wound. The searing pain made my vision swim, and cold sweat instantly soaked my back. A doctor rushed in. He took one look at the scene and immediately understood the assignment. He went through the motions of checking Ronnie. “Mr. Harrington, this is serious!” “Miss Ronnie is suffering from extreme shock, causing myocardial ischemia! If we don’t get blood into her system immediately, it could lead to heart failure!” “But we’re too remote! The camp has no blood bank reserves…” The lie was patently ridiculous. Shock required a blood transfusion? It was a blatant demand. Blake’s gaze locked onto me, immediately vicious. He knew I was O-negative, the universal donor. “Draw hers!” Blake didn’t hesitate, pointing right at me and ordering the doctor. “Whatever it takes to save Ronnie! Drain her dry if you have to!” I weakly raised my head, looking at the man who shared my blood. “I… I just survived an avalanche… I’ve lost too much blood…” “To draw more now… is murder…” My voice was a choked, rational plea. Blake merely sneered, crouching down and grabbing a handful of my hair, yanking my head back. “Your life means nothing!” “You have a cheap, stubborn life! A little blood won’t kill you! But if Ronnie doesn’t wake up, I’ll have your entire family—all of them—pay the price!” He pinned down my thrashing arm and motioned to the doctor to proceed. The doctor, unblinking, produced a thick-gauge needle. He plunged it directly into my shriveled, hypothermic vein. No cleaning, no sterilization, just a violent jab. My bright red blood rushed into the tube, quickly filling the donation bag. As the life force drained out, my vision blurred. I was freezing to the bone, my heartbeat a faint flutter. Ronnie, nestled in Blake’s embrace, secretly opened one eye. She gave me a look of pure, malicious glee, like a butcher watching a piece of livestock being bled out. I smiled back. It was a smile of utter, cold release. Watching that bag of my own life-blood, I finally understood. The supposed bond of kinship was just a deadly shackle. In the final fading moments of my consciousness, I used the last of my strength to call out to the void: “Dad! Mom!” The next second. A monstrous, ear-splitting sound ripped through the air. The entire wall of the storage room was split open by a controlled detonation! Rubble and shards of wood flew everywhere. The doctor, still clutching the half-full blood bag, was flung backward by the blast wave. The bag burst on the floor, spraying blood directly onto Blake’s face. As the dust settled, three figures in state-of-the-art black tactical gear stood silhouetted in the doorway. They looked like gods of war. My mother, T.N.T., held the latest C4 detonator, her red lips curved in an elegant, maniacal smile. My father, Hawk, had a sniper rifle shouldered, the infrared laser sight locked dead center on Blake’s forehead. And Jax spun a massive Nepalese kukri knife in his hand. “Sandy.” Jax’s voice held a chilling, hungry excitement. “Looks like your brother isn’t just disobedient, he’s a vampire. Should I just drain him for you?”

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It was Christmas Eve, and I was watching the snow fall with my daughter when my phone vibrated. “Aubrey.” The long-lost sound of that name—my name—made the knife I was using to slice oranges stop dead in mid-air. Five years ago, my parents and my brother had conspired to kick me out of the house, all to appease their precious adopted daughter, the fake Harrington princess. They’d even publicly disowned me. I couldn’t fathom why Garrett Harrington, the golden boy, the high-and-mighty prince of the entire dynasty, would condescend to call me now. “Who is this?” I asked, my voice flat. Silence stretched for a moment, then his voice came back, thick with a pathetic sob and a plea. “I’m at your gate, Aubrey. The snow is heavy. Please… just see me, big brother. Just for a minute.” “Mom is dying. She wants to see you one last time.” My gate? I peered through the floor-to-ceiling windows of our den. Beyond the elaborate iron gates of our estate, the man who had once been the most arrogant person I knew was kneeling in the snow. He was covered in a fresh layer of white, utterly humbled. I saw the purple tinge of his exposed skin, but all I could feel was the echo of my own despair on the night they drove me out. I turned, letting my husband pull me into a hug, and spoke into the phone with a chilling lack of emotion. “My apologies, but you know I haven’t had a family for a very long time.” With that, I yanked the heavy velvet drapes shut, obliterating the image of the man kneeling in the storm. Done. Cut him out. 1 “Who was it, Aubrey?” My husband, Damon Blackwell, walked over and held a perfectly peeled orange slice to my mouth. I bit down. The sweet, sharp burst of citrus in my mouth was just strong enough to suppress the strange, almost unwelcome flicker of anxiety in my chest. “Insurance,” I lied casually, placing the phone face-down on the marble counter. The snow outside was growing heavier, turning the glass into a thick, white canvas. That figure, kneeling beyond the gates, was now just a blurry black dot. But I knew Garrett Harrington was still there. The same brother who had pushed me down a flight of stairs while I had a 104-degree fever, just because his precious Joss was having a tantrum. The same one who had pointed a finger at my face and called me a “cuckoo snake that had taken another’s nest.” Now, he was kneeling like a whipped dog at my door. “That’s a persistent insurance agent,” Damon murmured, glancing toward the window. His eyes narrowed slightly. He walked to the window, lightly nudged a gap in the curtain. “Looks like this salesman is planning to freeze to death on our property.” I barely shrugged, changing the channel to a holiday movie marathon. “Let him. It’s bad luck, yes, but we can just sell the house next year.” Damon let out a soft laugh and returned to my side, his long arm wrapping around me. “Whatever my wife wants.” My phone vibrated again. A tireless death knell. Exasperated, I picked it up, ready to block the number. A message popped up—a photo attachment. It was a picture from an ICU. Eleanor Harrington, once the picture of polished, aristocratic grace, was now skeletal and connected to a web of tubes. Her face was the color of old parchment. Garrett’s subsequent message flashed: “Aubrey, Mom really is fading.” “The doctor says tonight is it.” “Joss isn’t here. Mom keeps calling your name. She wants you.” “I’m begging you. Just come and look. After that, you can take any revenge you want.” My finger hovered over the screen. Revenge? I was long past that age. Five years ago, on a night as snowy as this one, I was thrown out of the Harrington estate. Penniless, burning up with a monstrous fever, I slept under a bridge. That night, I left every tear, every bit of Aubrey Harrington I used to be, freezing on that pavement. “Mommy, I want that red candy!” My daughter, Hazel’s, soft voice yanked me back. I put the phone down, smiling as I unwrapped a candy and fed it to her. Looking at her innocent face, I realized that, yes, some things did need closure. Not just for me, but to truly put the ghost of the Aubrey who died in that snow five years ago to rest. I stood up and reached for the coat hanging on the rack. Damon didn’t ask a single question. He simply picked up his car keys, helped me into my coat, and wrapped my scarf carefully around my neck. “Let’s go,” he said. “Let’s see what kind of a performance they’re putting on.” The heavy door swung open. A blast of cold air and snow hit us. Garrett was frozen stiff. Hearing the sound, he lifted his head with agonizing slowness. His eyebrows and lashes were thick with white frost. The moment he saw me, his previously dead eyes flared with a desperate light. “Aubrey…” He tried to stand, but his legs were frozen and numb. He pitched forward, falling face-first into the snow. The same man who had been the swaggering, untouchable Harrington heir. The man who had slapped me in public to defend Jocelyn. Now, he didn’t even have the strength to stand up. I looked down at him, my expression utterly devoid of warmth, like I was staring at a broken piece of rusted metal. “Garrett.” My voice was quiet, cutting clearly through the howling wind. “Lead the way.” If they wanted to play the dutiful son and the repentant mother, I’d indulge them. This was the final, ugly curtain call the Harringtons owed me. 2 The hospital corridor reeked of acrid antiseptic. Garrett was shaking the entire way—I couldn’t tell if it was from the cold or the proximity of death. Damon walked beside me, his hand clasping mine, his palm dry and warm, an anchor in the sterile cold. We stopped outside the VIP suite. Garrett turned to me, his eyes wide with pathetic supplication. “Aubrey, when we go in… please don’t upset Mom.” “She can’t take any stress right now.” I couldn’t help it. I laughed. In the dead quiet of the hallway, the sound was harsh and brittle. “Garrett, are you missing the point?” I smoothed the cuff of my coat, looking at him with detached boredom. “You’re the one who was kneeling in the snow begging me to come.” “I’m not here to play the role of the devoted daughter. If you want a performance, that’ll cost you. And it’s a price you can’t afford.” Garrett’s face drained of color. His lips trembled, but he didn’t have a single word of rebuttal. He pushed the door open. The room was warm, almost oppressively so. The rhythmic beeping and dripping of various machines wove together a soundtrack of finality. On the bed, Eleanor Harrington was gasping, struggling for air. Hearing the door, she labored to turn her head. When her cloudy eyes landed on me, they actually welled up with tears. “Aubrey… my Aubrey…” She stretched out a skeletal hand, grasping for empty air. “My… daughter…” To an outsider, the scene would have been heartbreaking. But I was Aubrey. I was the daughter she had called a “bad omen,” the one she’d locked in the basement for three days and nights just to humor her precious adopted girl. I stood at the foot of the bed, unwilling to move closer. I was looking at a stranger about to die. “I’ve seen the person,” I said, turning my gaze to Garrett. My voice was cold. “Anything else? If not, I’m leaving. We have a holiday dinner to make at home.” Before Garrett could speak, a person stood up from the sofa in the corner. The lighting had been dim, and I hadn’t noticed her. The woman sitting in the shadows, peeling an apple. Jocelyn. The usurper, the fake princess, the one who had ruined the first half of my life. She was wearing a long, simple white dress, her eyes red, as if she’d been crying for hours. “Sister.” Her voice was soft and weak, melting like sugar. “How can you speak to Mom like that?” “She’s so sick, can’t you just let go of the past?” “It was all my fault before. I made you angry. If you want to blame someone, blame me, but please don’t stress Mom…” As she spoke, she started to drop to her knees. It was the same manipulative performance she’d perfected five years ago. The moment she knelt and cried, the whole family would immediately conclude that I was the aggressor. And sure enough. Garrett, who had just been wallowing in guilt over me, instinctively lunged forward to catch her. “Joss! Your health! Don’t move!” That sudden, unfeigned concern and worry—it wasn’t an act. I watched the ridiculous scene, only feeling amusement. This was Garrett’s claim that “Jocelyn isn’t here”? This was the “just see you one last time” plea? Damon suddenly stepped in front of me. He didn’t even look at Jocelyn. He spoke directly to Garrett, his voice laced with ice. “Since your devoted daughter is here to fulfill her duties, my wife is no longer needed.” “Aubrey, we’re leaving.” Damon put an arm around me, ready to turn. “Stop right there!” A furious roar came from the adjoining suite in the room. Arthur Harrington, the head of the family, my biological father, strode out. He was still well-preserved, his authority intimidating. But the look in his eyes when he saw me was the same blend of contempt and disdain. “Since you’re here, who told you you could leave before finishing what you came for?” Arthur pointed at me, his tone as commanding as if he were addressing a disobedient subordinate. “Your mother held on just to wait for you.” “If you have a shred of decency left, you’ll go sign the papers now!” Sign? I frowned. What papers? A will? A DNR? Garrett’s eyes suddenly darted away, unable to meet mine. Jocelyn lowered her head, a strange, faint smirk playing on her lips. A wave of dread washed over me. “Sign what?” I asked. Arthur scoffed and slammed a document down from the bedside table. SMACK. It landed right in front of me. “The Organ Donation Consent Form.” 3 The room instantly fell into a terrifying silence. I looked down at the document on the floor. The bold typeface of the title seemed to twist into a malicious grin. Living Kidney Donor Consent Form. In the space for the recipient, two names were starkly written: Jocelyn Harrington. I snapped my head up to look at Eleanor. She was still crying. But in her eyes, there was none of the remorse or motherly love she had manufactured moments ago. Only an intense, greedy, almost crazed desperation. “Aubrey…” Her voice trembled as she spoke the most cruel words imaginable. “Jocelyn… she has kidney failure…” “The doctors say… your kidney is the best match…” “Mom is dying… I’m leaving you…” “Can you… can you take care of Jocelyn for me? For your mother?” “Give her your kidney… Just this one thing… to fulfill my last wish…” Boom. Something detonated in my skull. So that was it. That was the whole plan! The deathbed repentance, the kneeling in the snow, the last-gasp plea for a reunion. All of it was a lie. All of it was bait. They hadn’t tricked me into coming home for love. They had tricked me into coming back to harvest my organs. What was I to them? A standby blood bank? A mobile organ depot for Jocelyn? Five years ago, she needed blood, and despite my own weak state, I gave her 400cc. She repaid me by claiming I pushed her down the stairs. Now, five years later, they wanted to lie and manipulate me onto an operating table for her! I turned to Garrett. The man who had knelt in the snow for three hours, claiming, “Please see your brother.” He was now staring intently at the tips of his own shoes. “You knew?” I asked him. My voice was quiet, like a dissipating wisp of smoke. Garrett flinched violently and finally raised his head. His eyes were red, and his response was full of self-pitying justification. “Aubrey, Joss is so young…” “She can’t let her life be ruined like this.” “You’re the older sister. You’re healthy. Losing one kidney won’t kill you.” “And… and if you agree, I can split my Harrington Corp. shares with you! Dad and Mom will forgive your mistakes and let you back into the family trust!” Ha. Ha, ha. I laughed until tears stung my eyes. Back into the family trust? Who the hell wanted a place on that decaying, toxic ledger? “Garrett Harrington.” I walked toward him, one deliberate step after another. With every step, a final thread of whatever biological kinship I still felt snapped. “When you were kneeling in the snow, were you thinking, ‘Once I get her inside, she can’t escape’?” “When I opened the door, were you laughing at my stupidity?” Garrett’s face was chalk-white, and he instinctively backed away. “No, Aubrey… I really wanted you to come home…” “Home?” I snatched the document off the floor and slammed it, hard, into his face. The sharp edge of the paper sliced his cheek, drawing a thin line of blood. “This is your welcome-home gift?” “Cut a piece of my body out to give life to your precious little sister?” “Garrett, you disgust me.” On the bed, Eleanor suddenly broke into a violent, rattling cough. The monitors let out a shrill alarm. Jocelyn shrieked and rushed to the bedside. “Mom! Mom, don’t stress!” She spun around, tears streaming down her face, and pointed a condemning finger at me. “Aubrey Harrington! Do you want to kill her, too?” “It’s just one kidney! How can you be so selfish?” “Mom is dying! This is her one final wish! Can’t you grant her even that?” Arthur, shaking with rage, raised his hand and charged at me. “You wicked brat! I’ll beat you, you ungrateful daughter!” “If you won’t sign it, then don’t blame me for using force!” “Guards! Tie her down and get her onto an operating table!” With his shout, four burly men burst through the door from the hallway. This was clearly an ambush, a setup. If the soft approach failed, they were prepared to use force. Garrett stood by, closing his eyes, tacitly consenting to the coming assault. “Aubrey, don’t blame your brother.” “Joss really can’t wait.” The four bodyguards closed in. I stood my ground, unmoving. Because I knew I didn’t have to move. A long, elegant hand shot out and caught Arthur’s descending palm in a vice grip. Damon stood in front of me. He was a mountain, utterly impassable. He applied a tiny bit of pressure, and Arthur cried out in pain, stumbling backward in an undignified mess. “Touch my wife?” Damon’s voice was no longer the gentle one I knew. It was utterly devoid of warmth, radiating a chilling, predatory threat. He scanned the room. Where his gaze landed, the four bodyguards froze, unwilling to take another step. “It seems, Arthur, that your business hasn’t been doing well these past few years.” “But you’ve certainly mastered the methods of a common thug.” Arthur clutched his wrist, staring at Damon in shocked disbelief. “Who the hell are you? Do you think you can interfere with Harrington family business?” “Who am I?” Damon gave a slow, chilling smile. He deliberately pulled a silk handkerchief from his pocket and slowly wiped the hand that had touched Arthur. Then, he dropped the cloth into the waste bin. “Allow me to introduce myself.” “I’m Damon Blackwell.” “I am also the largest shareholder in this hospital.” “And I am… the ‘mysterious buyer’ who is currently acquiring, and about to dismantle, Harrington Corporation.”

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I was Lucas Sterling’s secretary for seven years. And his secret lover for nine. Until one morning, when I was twenty-nine, I woke up in his bed. He casually ordered: “Keep your schedule clear in April. I’m getting married.” I froze. My eyes instantly stung with tears. He laughed, a dry, amused sound. “You didn’t think I was marrying you, did you?” I asked him, “Then… what am I?” He pulled me into his arms, soothing me like a child. “You know what the Sterling family is like. If you married in, you’d just suffer.” “It’s freer for you to be kept on the side. It protects you.” “Babe, it’s just a business merger. It won’t affect us.” “You’re still the one I love most.” In that moment, I suddenly stopped loving him. 1 At 7:00 AM sharp, the alarm went off. I kept my eyes closed and pushed against the warm chest behind me. “Wake up, Lucas…” The arm around my waist tightened, pulling me back into his embrace. The heat of his body pressed insistently against mine. My body still ached from last night’s frenzy. I rasped, “We’re going to be late…” “I don’t care…” He lowered his head, kissing my neck, his voice husky with sleep. “I’ll be quick…” We were always compatible in bed. His stamina was terrifying. An hour later. My legs were trembling as I tied his tie. He reached out, smoothing my messy hair, his tone lazy and satisfied. “Still mad?” I glared at him, a flush still lingering on my cheeks. “My perfect attendance record is ruined, Mr. Sterling.” His fingers traced the red marks on my collarbone, his voice teasing. “I’ll pay you double. Okay?” I slapped his hand away. “We are seriously late!” He was over thirty; where did he get this energy? I straightened my expression and recited his schedule for the day. “Signing ceremony at ten. Lunch with CEO Lee at noon. Executive meeting at two. Construction partnership talk with Mr. Chen at four. Industry gala dinner at six-thirty.” “Mm.” He nodded, fastening his watch. He was back to his usual cold, ascetic self. He glanced at his wrist. “Oh, right.” As if remembering something trivial, he ordered: “Keep your schedule clear in April. I’m getting married.” My hand jerked violently. The half-formed Windsor knot unraveled instantly. I didn’t react for a second. He just said… married… Was he… proposing? My eyes went red, tears welling up uncontrollably. After nearly a decade of running this marathon of love, this day had finally come. “Wait?” His voice drifted down from above, sounding awkward. He looked at me, frowned, and then chuckled. “You didn’t think I was marrying you, did you?” It felt like a bucket of ice water had been dumped over my head. I froze. The messy sheets, the lingering scent of sex—it all suddenly felt blindingly offensive. He paused, then explained: “It’s Paige.” Paige Rockefeller. The eldest daughter of the Rockefeller family. A spoiled heiress, raised in luxury, a perfect match for his status. Silence stretched for a long time. I stared at him blankly, my lips trembling as I finally managed to speak. “Then… what about me?” He turned his head slightly, avoiding my gaze. “You know the Old Man’s health isn’t great. And my cousin Liam is making moves. The company needs to go public.” “Merging with the Rockefellers is the best strategic choice.” He paused, then looked back at me, his eyes softening with reassurance. “Nina, I’m doing this for our future too.” Our future. How nice that sounded. “By the way, Paige has a bit of a temper. Just yield to her a bit in the future. Don’t take it personally.” He patted my head. “Of course, I won’t let you suffer, either.” I looked out the window. The festive New Year decorations mixed with the sunlight, piercing my eyes until they burned. I looked straight at him, my heart clenching so tight I couldn’t breathe. “So, you never thought about marrying me, did you?” A flash of impatience crossed his face. “Nina, is that piece of paper really that important to you?” “You know what my family is like. If you married in, they’d eat you alive.” “Keeping you on the side gives you freedom. It’s for your protection.” I smiled bitterly. So this was his “thoughtfulness.” His parents had always looked down on me, the scholarship girl from a small town. No matter how successful I became, in their eyes, I was just a gold digger climbing the ladder. I closed my eyes, tears streaming down my face. “Lucas, what am I to you after all these years?” “Your mistress? Or a pet canary in a gilded cage?” He sighed helplessly, wiping a tear from the corner of my eye. “What are you thinking? Have you ever seen anyone keep a mistress for ten years?” He reached out and pulled me into his arms. “Babe, it’s just a business marriage. I promise I won’t touch her.” “You’re still the one I love most.” “All these years, my heart has been yours. Have I ever strayed?” “Look at the people in our circle—who else is as loyal as I am?” He wasn’t wrong. People in his circle enjoyed top-tier resources. Open marriages, a revolving door of mistresses—it was the norm. But Lucas was different. Everyone knew the CEO was bewitched by his little secretary, cherishing her for nine years. 2 I first met Lucas when I was a senior in high school. He had just taken over the family business and came to our school for a charity event. I was the student representative presenting flowers to him. Suddenly, my father stormed onto the campus. He grabbed me and demanded I drop out. The crops were ready for harvest; I was needed at home. After the harvest, once I turned eighteen, he planned to marry me off for a dowry. At the age when self-esteem is most fragile, I was slapped twice in front of the entire school. Just as despair was suffocating me, a cold, clear voice descended like salvation. “How much? I’ll pay it.” I looked up, dazed. Lucas was in his early twenties then, sharp-featured and possessing a calmness far beyond his years. The dowry was $8,000. He paid $16,000 to buy out my relationship with my father. Like a god descending, he pulled me out of the mud. I didn’t know then that $16,000 wouldn’t even buy a single screw in the watch he wore on his wrist. His casual act of kindness changed a rural girl’s entire life. Since then, his assistant wired money to my account every year for tuition. And I never saw him again. In the long years that followed, I silently sketched his image in my heart. Until I was 20. I had saved enough money to pay him back. I didn’t have his contact info, so I sat in the lobby of Sterling Corp, hoping for luck. It was the dead of winter. After waiting three hours, I finally saw his car slowly approach. “Mr. Sterling!” I stood up and ran forward. He glanced sideways at me and frowned. The next second, the window rolled up, cutting him off from me. He didn’t remember me. In my panic, I rushed forward, and my fingers got caught in the closing window. Pain shot through my hand. “Mr. Sterling, I’m Nina Song. You sponsored me three years ago.” The window rolled down slowly. He turned, his gaze landing on me. I handed him the envelope full of cash, my fingers trembling from the pain. “I don’t need your sponsorship anymore. This is the money I owe you.” “I’ll pay back the $16,000 from back then slowly.” I bowed to him. “Thank you for your kindness. You saved me. Good things will happen to you.” “Oh, it’s you.” He looked me over, his eyes stopping on my red, swollen fingers. “Get in. Let’s go to the hospital.” “No need, Mr. Sterling, I… I’m fine.” I clenched my fingers in embarrassment and stepped back instinctively. Back then, my nose was red from the cold, my clothes cost less than twenty bucks total. I radiated awkwardness and poverty. I clashed violently with the luxury of his car. Eventually, his driver got out and opened the door for me. I sat stiffly in the seat. It was warm inside, a different world from the freezing cold outside. I looked at my pilling sweater and worn boots, shrinking into myself. The warm air blew on my face, mixing with shame until I blushed to my ears. He broke the silence. “You saved this much in two years of college?” I nodded, face burning as I explained. “Yes, I get scholarships every year. And this year I went south to buy clothes wholesale to sell at the campus night market. I made a bit of profit.” He raised an eyebrow, a flash of appreciation in his eyes. “You have a good head for business, kid.” He paused, then asked: “Interested in interning at Sterling Corp this winter break?” I couldn’t believe my ears. I nodded frantically. “Really? I’d love to! Thank you, Mr. Sterling!” Sterling Corp was a titan in the industry, a dream destination for top graduates. 3 That winter, I became a lowly intern in the Secretary’s Office. I fetched coffee and ran errands for Lucas. He was surrounded by elites. Compared to them, I was an ugly duckling who had wandered into a flock of swans. Lucas had incredibly high standards. By day, I ran until my feet blistered, daring not to slack off for a second. By night, after colleagues left, I stayed to learn. One evening, I was still at my computer long after everyone had gone. Outside, the city lights had come on without me noticing. “Why haven’t you clocked out?” A deep voice sounded behind me. I spun around in panic. He stood tall, the city skyline glittering behind him like a halo. “What are you reading?” He leaned in slightly, his eyes scanning the terms on my screen: “Private Equity,” “Options,” “Leverage Effect.” I explained nervously: “I heard you talking to clients today and didn’t understand a lot of it, so I wanted to teach myself…” He nodded slightly, a faint smile touching his lips. “It’s good to be studious.” He turned and pulled a few books from his shelf. “Read these instead.” Then he tapped my desk. “It’s late. Go home. I don’t have a hobby of exploiting employees.” We went downstairs together, only to run into a male classmate who had been pursuing me. I had rejected him clearly many times, but he was relentless. He had even tracked me to my workplace. “Nina! I waited so long for you. Dinner?” I was mortified. After getting rid of him, I apologized to Lucas repeatedly. “Mr. Sterling, he won’t come back. I promise it won’t affect my work.” I was terrified of leaving a bad impression. He raised an eyebrow, curious. “Suitor?” “Sort of…” I muttered awkwardly. He tilted his head slightly, looking at me. “Do you know the best way to reject someone?” I looked at him blankly and shook my head. The corners of his mouth curved up in a half-smile. “Tell them you have a boyfriend.” “But I don’t…” I replied instinctively. “What kind of boyfriend do you like?” he asked. “I don’t know…” My fingers twisted together nervously. He lowered his head, looking straight into my eyes. “Is someone a few years older okay?” I avoided his gaze in a panic. His eyes burned into me as he asked: “Is someone like me okay?” Handsome, rich, successful. For a naive girl just stepping into the world, every trait was a critical hit. And maybe, I had already fallen the moment I looked up at him at eighteen. I didn’t understand why he would be interested in someone as broke and boring as me. Maybe it was a whim, a taste of something fresh. I never expected that I would walk by his side from age 20 through nearly a decade of my youth. Only to end up loving in vain. Perhaps I should have foreseen this the moment I walked toward him. 4 “Miss Song, I hope you understand your position.” That was something he said to me once during a fight. At work, we were boss and subordinate. If I made a mistake and he scolded me until I cried, I had to take it. After work, he would hold me and say, “You can’t talk back to your boss, but you can talk back to your boyfriend.” That was the “position” he spoke of. Back then, I craved his warmth, drowning in this contradictory, complex relationship. Now, his fiancée said the exact same words to me. “Miss Song, I hope you understand your position.” When Paige appeared at the company, she caused quite a stir. Previously, to avoid gossip, Lucas never officially acknowledged our relationship. But the subconscious gestures, the looks exchanged—everyone knew. Ironically, I was the last person to know Lucas was getting married. “I thought Nina would finally get her happy ending. Turns out the boss marries whoever he wants.” “Nine years with the same woman? Even if she’s a goddess, he’s probably bored.” “No comparison. Nina’s pretty, but standing next to her, the class difference is obvious.” “Yeah, she’s old money. That Birkin she’s holding? Only five in the world.” VP Lee, who had always hated me, whispered loudly with some employees. The volume was perfectly calibrated for me to hear. Paige sat on the sofa in the CEO’s office, exquisite from head to toe. A Chanel suit that would look matronly on anyone else looked tailored and chic on her. She oozed old money. She looked me up and down, then let out a light laugh. “I’ve known Lucas for years. He’s like this. He’ll eat the same dish forever.” “It doesn’t mean the dish is good. He’s just used to it and too lazy to switch.” She tilted her chin up, looking down at me. “Speaking of which, eating too much fast food is bad for your health.” “Don’t you agree, Miss Song?” I stood there, nails digging into my palms, lips trembling, unable to say a word. “Lucas has only had you these past years. His private life is clean enough. If you know your place, I won’t give you trouble.” “But—” She paused, her gaze locking onto my face, shaking her head with a frown. “You’re almost thirty, right? I’ve never seen a mistress this old.” “How many more years do you think you have with Lucas? When your youth fades, will he still be interested?” “The world isn’t short of young faces. What makes you think you can keep him as a mistress for life?” She narrowed her eyes, enjoying my humiliation. “Secretary by day, mistress by night. You really are a multi-tasker, Miss Song.” I fought back the stinging in my nose, my voice shaking. “Miss Rockefeller, Lucas and I… it’s not the kind of relationship you described.” For nine years, aside from work, he hadn’t hidden our relationship. He took me to meet his friends. They called me “sister-in-law.” We lived together, like a normal couple building a life. Paige scoffed. “Miss Song, you’ve lived the good life for so long you’ve forgotten where you came from.” “A charity case who climbed into her sponsor’s bed using her looks. A social climber.” “We all know how much effort that took.” “You followed a man for nine years. Did he ever promise you anything?” She stepped closer, the mockery in her eyes intensifying. “You think because you went to a few parties and got called ‘sister-in-law,’ you’re actually Mrs. Sterling?” “Wake up. The Sterlings won’t let a village girl in the front door.” “He’s marrying me because we match. It’s a union of family interests. What do you have?” “Men aren’t stupid. Would he throw away his empire for you?” She stared at my red-rimmed eyes with disgust. “Don’t go crying to Lucas. Sterling Corp needs the Rockefellers right now. It’s his honor that I chose him.” “Men are all the same. I picked Lucas because he’s handsome and cleaner than the rest.” She paused, issuing a cold warning. “I don’t care about the past. From now on, whenever you’re in front of me, tuck your tail between your legs.”

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Before they were married, I was walking down the street with my brother. His girlfriend mistook me for his mistress and punched me in the face. My eye socket shattered, and I lost sight in one eye. Her excuse? She laughed and stuck out her tongue. “Sorry, my eyesight is bad. I misjudged. I’m marrying your brother soon, so we’re family. Let’s not hold grudges, okay?” My mother and brother told me to let it go. They said I shouldn’t ruin his happiness. After they got married, I was taking a shower in my own home. My sister-in-law kicked the door open and poured a pot of boiling water over me. I suffered severe burns all over my body. She cried and threw herself into my brother’s arms. “I just love you too much! I can’t stand any other woman near you!” My brother was moved by her “love” and forgave her. I was dumped in a hospital by my family and left to rot. I died of sepsis. When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the day before I went shopping with my brother. 1 “Hannah’s birthday is coming up. I need to get her a gift. Sis, come help me pick something out.” Tom shook my shoulder, jolting me awake. The phantom pain of boiling water searing my skin lingered for a second. I frantically rolled up my sleeve, but my arm was smooth and unscarred. “What are you doing? Let’s go,” Tom urged, his voice louder now. I glanced at my phone. The date confirmed it. I had been reborn. “I can’t,” I said, clutching my stomach and frowning. “Cramps. Bad ones. I’m not going anywhere.” “You’re so dramatic,” my mom’s voice cut in as she walked into the room. She grabbed my arm and yanked me off the bed. “It’s just cramps. Stop faking it. Get up and go with your brother!” I fell to the floor, unprepared for the shove. It hurt, but I didn’t care. Right now, my priority was saving my eye. “Mom, why don’t you go with Tom? You have better taste than me. If Hannah knows you picked it out, she’ll be even happier.” Mom rolled her eyes. “I’m busy.” I knew the drill. Tom wanted me to go so I would pay. Mom knew it too, which is why she didn’t want to go. I pulled out my phone and Venmo’d Tom $500. “Here. My treat. Buy yourself some new clothes for the season while you’re at it.” Seeing the money, Mom’s expression softened instantly. Tom, realizing he had a payer, stopped caring who went with him. “Fine. Mom, go change. Let’s head out.” Mom turned toward her bedroom, and I followed. “Mom, wear this one,” I said, pulling a bright red jacket from her closet. “It makes you look younger and gives you a great complexion.” She put it on without a second thought. I watched them leave and let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. But I didn’t stay home. I followed them. Tom and Mom went straight to the mall. Tom knew exactly what he wanted—the luxury counters on the first floor. I watched from a distance, hidden behind a pillar. Soon, a familiar figure appeared. Hannah, Tom’s girlfriend, walked in arm-in-arm with her best friend. “Hannah, look! Isn’t that your boyfriend?” the friend pointed. Hannah squinted. She saw Tom walking arm-in-arm with a woman. They were laughing, looking intimate. Because of the angle and the woman’s loose hair, Hannah couldn’t see her face. But she didn’t need to. It was a woman. That was enough. “Unbelievable! He tells me he’s shopping for my gift, but he’s actually out with some skank? Watch me teach her a lesson!” Hannah rolled up her sleeves and charged. “TOM!” she screamed. Tom and Mom turned around at the sound of his name. In that split second, Hannah’s fist connected squarely with Mom’s eye socket. Crack. “AHHH!” Mom screamed, stumbling back, clutching her face. “You must be desperate!” Hannah shrieked. “You’re hooking up with a grandma? If you want to break up, just say so!” Tom stood frozen in shock before rushing to support Mom. Seeing him help “the other woman” only fueled Hannah’s rage. “I’ll kill you, you old homewrecker! Shameless old hag!” “Are you crazy?!” Tom roared. “This is my mother!” Hannah’s hand froze in mid-air. “W-what?” Mom was wailing in agony. “My eye! It hurts! I can’t see! Tom, my eye!” “Auntie… I’m so sorry… I didn’t mean to… I thought you were…” Hannah tried to reach out, but Mom slapped her hand away. “Get me to the hospital! Now!” They rushed out, ignoring Hannah completely. Hannah stood there for a moment, realizing she had just punched her future mother-in-law. But she wasn’t about to lose her meal ticket. She ran after them. Watching the chaos unfold, I couldn’t help but laugh out loud. 2 In my last life, I was the one walking next to Tom. I didn’t even touch him, but Hannah saw us and decided I was his mistress. She sucker-punched me. Even after Tom explained I was his sister, she refused to believe it. She kept hitting me and blocked me from going to the hospital. By the time I got treatment, it was too late. I lost my left eye. When I wanted to press charges, she played the victim. “I have bad eyesight. You two were too close. Siblings should have boundaries.” “You only lost one eye. Are you really going to ruin your brother’s happiness over that? You’re so selfish.” I was furious, but Mom snatched my phone and slapped me. “You troublemaker! It’s just an eye! You still have one left! Do you want your brother to be alone forever?” Because of my disability, I lost my promotion. My boss moved me to a dead-end admin job making coffee. Later, Hannah came home early and found Tom alone. She heard the shower running and assumed he had a woman over. She boiled a pot of water, kicked the bathroom door open, and threw it without looking. It was me. I screamed as my skin melted off. Hannah laughed. “Die, homewrecker!” When the steam cleared and she saw it was me, she gasped. “Sister? Why are you showering in the middle of the day? Are you trying to seduce my husband?!” I called 911 myself, naked and burning. While I needed skin grafts, Tom and Mom stole my savings and told the doctors to stop treatment. “Let her go. It’s too expensive.” I died of infection. On my deathbed, Hannah sneered at me. “Next time, stay away from other people’s husbands.” At my funeral, they told everyone I had seduced my own brother and that my death was karma. I died in agony and shame. But God gave me a second chance. And this time, this family of vipers was going to pay. 3 Tom called me from the ambulance, screaming for me to come to the hospital. When I arrived, the doctor was examining Mom. Hannah looked me up and down. “Who are you?” In this life, I had kept my distance from Tom specifically to avoid her wrath. I smiled. “You must be Hannah. I’m Tom’s sister. You two are perfect for each other.” Hannah didn’t respond. She looked pale. Her punch at the mall had been full force. She had meant to maim. Mom’s eyeball had ruptured on impact. Blood was still oozing from the corner of her eye. The doctor sighed. “We have to remove the eye immediately to prevent infection.” Mom gasped and fainted with her one good eye rolling back. I rushed forward, wailing theatrically. “Oh, Mom! My poor mother! Who did this to you?! How will you live as a cyclops?!” My wailing woke Mom up. She remembered her attacker. She leaped up, grabbing Hannah by the hair with one hand and slapping her with the other. “You bitch! Give me back my eye! Give it back!” Hannah was a bully, but she couldn’t fight. She screamed for Tom to help. Tom stood there, useless, trying to pull them apart. “Tom! Break up with this psycho right now! She is never stepping foot in my house!” Mom screamed. Hannah, battered and crying, clung to Tom’s arm. “Babe, I’m sorry! I just loved you too much! I lost my mind!” She turned to Mom. “Auntie, I’ll make it up to you! I’ll marry into your family and take care of you forever! I’ll be your eyes!” Tom’s face lit up. He was satisfied. He got the girl and the “caretaker.” But Mom wasn’t having it. “Get out! I don’t want a lunatic like you!” She glared at Tom. “If you stay with her, you’re dead to me!” I stepped in to mediate. “Okay, everyone calm down. Mom is emotional. You two wait outside. I’ll talk to her.” Hannah sat on the bench, rubbing her swollen face. Tom sat next to her. I went back into the room. Hannah had to marry Tom. They deserved each other. I needed them under one roof so they could destroy each other. I sat next to Mom. “Mom, calm down. Think about the future.” Mom glared at me. “What do you mean?” A few minutes later, I called the lovebirds back in. “I agree to let you marry my son,” Mom said to Hannah. 4 Hannah beamed, opening her mouth to thank her. “But I have conditions,” Mom interrupted. “First, you blinded me. You pay for the surgery and the hospital stay.” “Second, no dowry. No wedding gifts. If it weren’t for Tom, I’d have you arrested. You’d go to prison for assault.” Hannah frowned at the “no dowry” part. Mom immediately reached for her phone to dial 911. I jumped in. “Hannah, think about it. Once you’re married, we’re family. Money ruins relationships. And if Mom presses charges, you’ll have a criminal record. Your future kids won’t be able to get government jobs.” Tom, realizing he wouldn’t have to pay a dowry, immediately sided with us. Outnumbered, Hannah agreed. Her parents, hearing she had blinded her future mother-in-law, were too ashamed to argue. Since Mom needed surgery, there was no wedding. They just signed the papers at the courthouse. Mom lost her eye. I bought her a pirate patch. Hannah moved in. Mom made it her mission to make Hannah’s life hell. But they were newlyweds, so Tom and Hannah were still in the honeymoon phase. Hannah, however, couldn’t stop being paranoid. One day, she asked Tom to drive her to her parents’ house. When she got in the car, she noticed the passenger seat had been moved forward. She didn’t explode immediately. She waited until she got home. “Sis,” she asked me casually. “Did you sit in Tom’s car recently? Did you adjust the seat?” I looked confused. “Me? No. Why?” Hannah went silent. “Maybe I saw it wrong.” “Besides, I’m taller than you. If I moved it, I’d move it back, not forward.” Hannah’s fist clenched. She was short. If the seat was moved forward, the person who sat there was shorter than her. A woman. In Hannah’s mind, this was a declaration of war from a mistress. I saw the cruel glint in her eye and quietly retreated to my room. I wasn’t getting caught in the crossfire. That evening, Tom was late. Mom called him, but he didn’t pick up. Hannah smiled. “Mom, let’s eat. He’s probably busy.” Mom scoffed. “Eat, eat, eat. My son is working hard and you just think about food.” Hannah ignored her. She was in a good mood. Around 8 PM, the door opened. Tom stumbled in. He looked like a ghost. He was sweating profusely, his eyes wild. He looked at the three of us. Then, through gritted teeth, he hissed: “Which one of you put superglue on my passenger seat?”

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My ex-boyfriend, Seth, is my brother’s roommate. My brother, Jonathan, transferred me my monthly allowance with a string of curses. “Happy now? You’re only with me for the money!” Seth saw the message and immediately sent a transfer of his own, adding two zeros to the amount. “I’m bigger than him. I can make you happier.” Seth thought my brother was my new boyfriend. He’d made a bet with his friends that he could snap his fingers and win back a gold-digger like me. I knew he was up to no good. When Seth offered me his black card, I refused it. When my brother offered me a half-off coupon, I took it. When Seth offered me a meticulously chosen designer gift, I refused it. When my brother offered me half a pack of leftover tissues, I took it. Seth finally lost his mind. “Is my money cursed or something? Will it kill you to spend a single penny of it?!” 1 My brother cursed me out as he transferred my allowance. “Happy now? You’re only with me for the money!” I didn’t dare breathe a word, a sly, sycophantic grin plastered on my face on the other end of the line. The second the money hit my account, I loaded it all onto my meal card. I’ve always had a massive appetite. There was an all-you-can-eat buffet that opened up downstairs from my childhood home. Less than a month later, the owner skipped town in the middle of the night without a word to me. When my family stocked up on snacks for the holidays, my parents would take turns standing guard outside my door. Bought a snack you didn’t like? Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it. Can’t finish your dinner? Just leave it, I’m here. The greatest charm of a mature woman is her ability to solve problems. My mom always said that since I came along, our family has never had to eat leftovers. The year I graduated high school, my dad asked me where I wanted to go to college. I immediately said I wanted to go to my brother’s university. My brother froze, then instinctively clutched his meal card in terror. Red alert! Incoming disaster! Every month, I scrape and save every penny just to treat my stomach right. But without fail, by the end of the month, I’m broke. When that happens, I usually have to find some odd jobs that pay by the day and include a meal. My brother couldn’t stand the thought of me running all over town at all hours, so he’d grit his teeth and transfer me a hundred bucks from his own allowance. The moment his “disaster relief funds” came through, I’d transform into his number one fan girl. But before I could lay on any more flattery, two new notifications popped up on my phone. Another transfer notification appeared, this one adding two zeros to my brother’s one hundred dollars. It was immediately followed by a text from my ex-boyfriend. 【I’m bigger than him. I can make you happier.】 2 It was noisy on my brother’s end of the call; it sounded like someone was calling his name from outside the dorm room. He tossed his phone on the desk and went out, forgetting to hang up. Through the open line, I heard Seth’s voice. Someone next to him started jeering. “Can you believe her? The second she breaks up with Seth, she’s already latched onto someone else. Hah.” “And Seth just drops ten grand on her? That fickle bitch doesn’t deserve it.” Seth just laughed, a lazy, unconcerned sound. He narrowed his eyes, his long fingers toying with his phone. “A girl like Holly? I could snap my fingers and have her crawling back to me.” I stared at the ten thousand dollars that had just landed in my account and fell into a deep thought. When I first got to campus, my life revolved around eating. My social media feed was basically a walking advertisement for every restaurant in a five-mile radius. Whether it was a discount for getting enough likes or a free drink for sharing a post, if there was a food-related perk, I was on it. Someone said I was like a restaurant hustler. The rumor got more and more ridiculous, until people were saying I scammed guys into taking me to specific restaurants so I could get a kickback. I have no idea where Seth heard this story, but he decided to descend from the heavens like an avenging angel to deliver my punishment. “Go out with me,” he’d said, a halo practically glowing above his head. “I’ll pay for all your meals. How about it?” Was this a food-based relief package from above? That sounded pretty righteous to me. I nodded so fast my head almost fell off and immediately agreed. Seth had set all sorts of traps, planning to expose my “true colors” in public. He asked me to take him out to eat. That day, he was dressed to the nines—a perfectly pressed suit, shoes shined to a mirror finish. He was ready for a five-star restaurant, but I dragged him to a grimy street food alley instead. The spiciest ramen in the city. Extra-hot wings. Fiery grilled kebabs. My face was flushed and my mouth was on fire. I turned to him and asked, “Thrilling, right?” Seth just sat there, looking at me like his entire digestive system was about to combust. He kept trying to test me, and I kept dragging him back to that night market. In the end, faced with a choice between delivering heavenly justice and saving his own ass, Seth chose the latter. He broke up with me. My free meal ticket was gone. I was genuinely bummed about it for a long time. It wasn’t until one of Seth’s friends let it slip that I finally learned the real story. The more I thought about it, the angrier I got. Son of a bitch. There are always people trying to take advantage of honest, good-hearted women like me. Even the ten thousand dollars now felt tainted. Was this some new kind of humiliation play? Wary of a trap, I cautiously sent the money back. On the other end of the line, the electronic notification voice announced the ten-thousand-dollar deposit. The chaotic dorm room was suddenly plunged into a dead silence. My brother came back from whatever he was doing. He picked up his phone. “Holly, someone just gave me a couple of half-off coupons. You want them?” I never turn down a bargain. “Yes!” Seth silently picked up his phone and typed me a message. 【Do you want my black card?】 The moment he hit send, a red exclamation mark appeared. You have been blocked by this user. My brother chatted with me as if he were sorting through junk. “I’ve got half a pack of tissues left here.” “I’ll take it!” “I won a ‘one dollar off’ prize from a drink I bought last time.” “Gimme.” “These crackers I bought are a little stale.” “That’s fine, I don’t mind.” “Seth, stop trying to swing from the rafters!” “Okay… wait, what?” My brother ended up putting together a whole box of his “junk” for me. On my way to pick it up, I heard a rumor that someone in the men’s dorm had engaged in a spirited tug-of-war between his neck and a ceiling beam. Ah, youth, I thought with a sigh. The dean and the campus nurse were fussing over Seth, but he remained silent, his head bowed. As he passed my brother, Jonathan was still busy talking to me. “Don’t run your mouth in front of my girlfriend, okay? I don’t want her to know about our relationship.” Having secured my loot, I grinned like an idiot. “Don’t worry, I won’t let anyone know about… us.” My brother was trying to win over a girl who lived in the dorm across from his. After I found out, I’d spent days whispering sweet nothings about him in her ear, trying to boost his image. If she knew we were siblings, all my praise would just sound like biased bragging. But Seth overheard us, and his face went through five different shades of pale. He looked from me to my brother, his expression a complex mess of emotions. “Jonathan… what exactly is the relationship… between you two?” My brother, ever the honest one, replied, “She’s my sister.” Jonathan took our dad’s last name, and I took our mom’s. Since he didn’t know I even knew Seth, he didn’t bother to explain further. Seth looked at me, then back at my brother. A sarcastic smile twisted his lips, and his voice dripped with acid. “Oh, so she’s your sister.” He pulled a utility knife from his pocket and held it to his wrist. “I think there’s a bug under my skin, right here. It keeps jumping. I’m just going to… pick it out.” The dean, horrified, bellowed, “THAT’S YOUR DAMN ARTERY!” 3 On top of his own living expenses, my brother now had a new dating budget to manage. And because of me, he still had to set aside some “disaster relief” funds every month. I felt a little guilty. So when I saw a flyer for a daily-wage hotel cleaning job, I signed up immediately. I wanted to save up enough money to buy my brother a pair of sneakers he’d been wanting for ages. When he found out, he was moved to tears, saying his little sister had finally grown up. I worked all day, and by the time I got off, it was already dark. I stood by the side of the road and called my brother. “It’s a little remote out here. Can you come pick me up and drive me back to campus?” “Find a place to wait for me,” he said. “I have to drop off your sister-in-law first. I’ll be there in about fifteen minutes.” “Okay,” I replied and waited by the curb. A few minutes later, a black Porsche pulled up in front of me. The window rolled down, and I saw Seth’s face. He looked me up and down, then glanced at the hotel behind me. His brow furrowed, and the usual lazy smile on his face faded. “Why are you out here alone? Where’s Jonathan?” Just seeing Seth’s face made a fire ignite in my stomach. It was all my fault for being so greedy back then, letting this venomous fox play with my feelings. My voice was unintentionally sharp when I replied, “He went to see his girlfriend.” Seth let out a choked laugh. “So he just abandoned you like that?” I scratched my head. The question felt weird, but also… not entirely wrong? I didn’t know how to answer, so I just stood there silently. “Get in. I’ll take you back to school.” Seth opened the passenger door for me. Once I was in the car, I quickly texted my brother to let him know he didn’t need to come, that someone was giving me a ride. I sat in the passenger seat and glanced at Seth. The top two buttons of his shirt were undone, revealing a silver chain around his neck. A sleek, metallic pendant glinted in the dim light, swaying with his movements. My eyes followed it down, getting stuck on the sliver of collarbone visible at the opening of his shirt. “Why are you doing this?” Seth’s voice was cold, but I could hear the anger simmering beneath the surface. I assumed he was talking about my cleaning job, disgusted by my line of work. “What would a rich guy like you know? If it wasn’t for the money, who would want to do this kind of thing?” Seth’s hands tightened on the steering wheel, and he asked through gritted teeth, “For a hundred lousy bucks?” “That’s right! For a hundred lousy bucks!” I answered, full of righteous indignation. The work was dirty and exhausting, and I had to deal with all sorts of weirdos, but the pay was great! And it included a meal! Seth demanded, “Then why didn’t you take the money I gave you?” “Is my money cursed or something? Will it kill you to spend a single penny of it?!” I wanted to! God, I wanted to! But my brain had decided to be logical for once, and by the time my senses returned, the money was already gone. But I couldn’t admit that now. That would be pathetic. I put on an air of detached elegance and said with a faint smile, “Because it wasn’t appropriate.” Seth closed his eyes, a look of utter despair on his face. He whispered, so softly it was almost to himself, “And he is?” My phone buzzed in my pocket, the ringtone drowning out his words. I answered, and my brother’s voice came through the speaker. “Holly, are you back on campus yet? Who’s driving you?” I glanced at Seth. He shook his head, signaling me not to mention his name. So I lied. “A coworker is giving me a ride. We were heading in the same direction.” My brother told me to text him when I was safely back in my dorm. I agreed. Seth pulled up to the campus gate. I thanked him and got out of the car. Just as I was about to close the door, I heard his hoarse voice. “Holly, do you really have to go down this path? Anything he can give you, I can give you too.” Give me what? A daily wage? This damn fox. He always knew exactly how to find my weak spot. But then I remembered his smug words from the dorm room, and a fresh wave of anger washed over me. I slammed the door shut, leaving him with a single, sharp word. “No!” Back in my dorm, I was scrolling through my phone when I saw a new post from Seth. 【My entire life has been ruined by a scumbag.】 Me: “?” What now?

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1 After getting my year-end bonus, I bought my grad student boyfriend a pair of limited-edition Air Jordans. The next day, I found them on a resale app, listed for a fifth of the price. The box was still sealed. I bought them instantly. Once they arrived, I confirmed the delivery and then dialed his number. “Hey babe, did you like the little surprise I got you?” He sounded confused. “What surprise?” I let out a small, wounded laugh. “The classic Patek Philippe watch I hid inside the shoebox. It’s worth over fifty thousand. You didn’t see it?” … I was scrolling through ReSell on a lazy weekend when a local listing caught my eye. [Limited-Edition Air Jordans, Size 11, Brand New/Unopened, Authentic! Needs to go fast! Only $400!] I stared at the screen, my mind blanking for a second. I’d just bought the exact same pair a few days ago. Same model, same size. Because they were a limited release and a rare size, I’d pulled three all-nighters camping online to snag them, paying nearly two thousand dollars. Had to be fakes, right? I clicked on the post and swiped through the photos. My breath caught when I saw the gift wrap on the shoebox. A pale grey paper with a subtle, silver-stamped pattern. It was the exact one I’d chosen. The official store packaging was too plain, so I’d gone to two different specialty shops, agonizing over the options before settling on this one. I’d picked the most understated grey I could find, worried he might think anything else was too flashy. I told myself it was just a coincidence, but a chill was already creeping up my fingers. I tapped on the seller’s profile. The IP address was in the same state. After a long moment of silence, I opened a chat with the seller. “Hi, are the sneakers still available? Are they authentic? Why are they so cheap?” A reply came back instantly. “Hey, don’t worry, they’re 100% legit. Shipped straight from the flagship store. The box hasn’t even been opened.” He followed up with a screenshot of the shipping confirmation. Recipient: Dan. The sender was my online store ID. My phone nearly slipped from my hand. The seller was my boyfriend, Dan. And that shipping screenshot? I was the one who sent it to him. My fingers felt stiff. I took a deep breath and navigated to his ReSell profile, scrolling down. In the six months we’d been together, almost everything I’d ever given him was on there. The brand-name headphones I got him for our one-month anniversary, listed for two hundred. The gaming console for our 100-day celebration, listed for four hundred. The new tablet he said he needed for his thesis research, listed for nine hundred. All of them were marked as “Sold.” And then I saw the scarf. The one I’d hand-knitted for him last winter, working until my fingers were raw and blistered. He had held me so tight when I gave it to him, promising he’d wear it forever. Now, it was listed for ten dollars, shipping included. The description read: Gift from a friend. Not my style. Unworn. I stared at those words, a wave of nausea washing over me. Looking back, the frequency with which Dan asked for gifts was absurd. And there was always a reason. Our one-month anniversary, our 100 days, his birthday, the day his thesis proposal was approved… I bought him something every single time. I had been working for two years while he was still in grad school. I figured he didn’t have an income, so I tried my best to make sure he never had to spend money on me. That’s why I never complained when his gifts to me were cheap snack boxes or little trinkets he’d won from some online referral game. I thought I was being understanding. Now I saw the truth. In his eyes, I was just an ATM. Just then, another message popped up in the chat. “Hello? You still want them? If you’re serious, I can knock a little more off the price. Can ship today.” 2 I stared at the message, a bitter mix of emotions churning inside me. Should I just confront him? Break up and tell him to get lost? No, that would be letting him off way too easy. After a moment’s thought, I closed the chat window and changed my shipping address to my best friend’s apartment complex. Double-checking the details, I hit “Buy Now.” The instant the payment went through, a new message appeared. “Awesome! I see you’re local. I’ll get a courier to bring it over right now! Please confirm the delivery as soon as you get it. I really need the cash!” I stared at his words for a second before typing back: “Fine, send it.” An hour later, I was at my best friend Sophie’s place, holding the package. The shoebox was pristine, the seal perfectly intact. The custom greeting card I’d asked the store to include was still tucked into the side. He hadn’t even bothered to open it. “Isn’t that the pair you got for Dan?” Sophie frowned, leaning in for a closer look. “What’s going on?” I handed her my phone, letting her read through the ReSell history. Her expression grew colder with every swipe. “That scumbag!” she seethed. “What are you going to do? Drive down to his campus and slap him?” I shook my head. “Where’s the fun in that?” If he wanted to cash in on my gifts, I was going to make sure he lost more than he could ever imagine. Just then, another notification popped up from ReSell. “Hey, the courier says it’s been delivered. Could you please confirm the receipt? I’m in a real hurry here, trying to get money together for my girlfriend’s birthday present.” I froze. Girlfriend? My birthday is in October. It was only March. Which girlfriend was he buying a gift for? Sophie saw the message too and scoffed. “So the jerk isn’t just using you as a piggy bank, he’s cheating on you too! Unbelievable!” I didn’t say a word. I just tapped “Confirm Receipt.” The moment the money transferred, I grabbed a small paring knife from Sophie’s fruit bowl and made a tiny, deliberate slice in the outer gift wrap. Then I took a photo and sent it to Dan’s ReSell account. “Hi, I just started opening the package and noticed the wrapping is damaged here.” Dan exploded. “What? No way, lady! It was perfect when I gave it to the courier! There wasn’t a single tear on it! You did that yourself, didn’t you?” “You didn’t check it on the spot, and now you’re claiming it’s damaged after you signed for it? Who knows if you didn’t slice it yourself? Trying to get a discount? Not happening!” “You’ve already confirmed the receipt! The condition of the item has nothing to do with me anymore! Don’t even think about trying to scam me!” And with that, before I could even reply, he blocked me. A slow smile spread across my face. That was the guarantee I was waiting for. The condition of the item has nothing to do with me anymore. I switched back to my phone app and called Dan immediately. He answered, his voice cheerful. “Hey babe, what’s up? Miss me already?” “Mhm,” I replied. “Just wanted to ask if you got the shoes. Do they fit okay?” There was a brief pause on the other end. “Yeah, I got them,” he said, his tone a little strained. “They fit great, but honey… I don’t really like them.” “Oh? Why not?” “I’m in my second year of grad school, about to start internships and look for a real job. Wearing sneakers that cost thousands of dollars just feels… a little immature.” He paused, then deliberately softened his voice. “I know you meant well, Mia, but I need to build a more professional image now. These shoes just don’t fit with that.” I felt the corner of my mouth twitch. “I see. Well, you should return them. The website has a seven-day return policy as long as they haven’t been worn. That’s almost two thousand dollars. We can get you something more professional with the refund.” 3 “Don’t!” he cut in hastily. “But you said you didn’t like them?” “I… I already wore them outside,” he said, his words tumbling out. “The soles are dirty, and I threw the box away. There’s no way they’d take them back now.” “Oh, well,” I said, drawing out the words. “I guess that’s that. But you really think they’re immature?” “Yeah,” he said, his confidence returning. He even adopted a slightly lecturing tone. “Mia, you shouldn’t buy me things like this anymore. I won’t get many chances to wear them. I’m about to start my internship. If you really want to get me something, you should get me something practical.” “Like what?” “Like a watch, or the newest iPhone. Those things fit my status. They’d look good when I’m meeting clients.” I nearly crushed my phone in my hand. A grad student who hadn’t even graduated was talking to me about status. No wonder he thought two-thousand-dollar sneakers were immature. This was what he was really after. I remembered how, three days ago, when I sent him the screenshot of the online order, all he’d replied was “k.” At the time, I thought he was just busy and didn’t have time to show excitement. Now I realized he was probably too disappointed to even pretend. “You’re right,” I said slowly. “You’re about to start your career. You should have some nice things to show for it.” Dan’s voice immediately brightened. “Right? You think so too? I was actually looking at this Longines watch, it’s about two thousand…” I cut him off. “That’s why I tucked a watch inside the shoebox. A classic Patek Philippe. Didn’t you see it?” The line went completely silent. All I could hear was his breathing, getting faster and faster. After a few seconds, Dan’s voice was barely recognizable. “What?” “A Patek Philippe,” I said, my voice dripping with innocence. “I put it at the very bottom of the box, wrapped in a velvet cloth. You didn’t open it? There was a handwritten letter from me in there, too.” “I…” He was stammering now. “You put a watch in the shoebox?” “Of course,” I sighed. “If I’d known you didn’t like the shoes, I would have just given you the watch by itself. It was so expensive, my heart ached when I bought it.” I heard a dull thud on his end, like a fist hitting a table. It was immediately followed by a girl’s whining voice, hushed and annoyed. “What’s wrong with you? Why are you freaking out…” Dan’s voice was a harsh, angry whisper. “It’s all your fault for wanting that bag! Otherwise I wouldn’t have sold the shoes so fast! Now look what happened! I’m ruined!” The girl huffed. “I told you those were limited editions! You could have waited and the price would’ve gone up. You were the one who insisted on selling them now…” “If I didn’t sell them now, how was I supposed to buy you a birthday present in time?” I pretended I hadn’t heard a thing and asked with concern, “Dan? Are you okay?” “I’m fine,” he said, his voice raw. “Mia, you said… how much was that watch?” “Around fifty-five thousand,” I said nonchalantly. “I was going to get a new car, but then I thought, you need a good watch to make an impression for your internship. So I bought it for you instead.” “Fifty-five… thousand?” His voice was trembling. “Where did you get that kind of money?” “My year-end bonus,” I said, my voice filled with faux-disappointment. “I had a great year at work, my bonus was sixty thousand. I spent almost all of it on you.” “You…” He gasped for air. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” “I wanted it to be a surprise,” I said. Then, my tone shifted to one of alarm. “Wait, why are you asking? Is the watch gone?” “I… I probably just didn’t notice,” he stammered, completely incoherent. “I haven’t really gone through the box yet…” “Well, you need to find it!” I urged him. “I bought a classic model. Even used, it’s worth over thirty grand! If it’s lost, I’ll… I’ll just die!” As I spoke, I sent him a picture of the watch and a photo of the official receipt from the boutique. “See? This model would look so good on you. It’s a bit mature, I know, but it’s a timepiece you could wear for years.”

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To win back his childhood sweetheart’s mother’s heirloom, my husband risked his life in an underground fight club. In my past life, because I suffered a sudden heart attack, my husband turned back to save me, missing his chance to fight. His “white moonlight,” Bella, failed to retrieve her late mother’s necklace and, unable to bear the pain, jumped from a building. My husband calmly handled her funeral arrangements. But on the seventh day after her death, he tied me inside a punching bag and beat me to death. “You faked a heart attack to make me miss my chance! You killed Bella! I want you to pay with your life!” I opened my eyes and was back on that day. My heart seized up again. But this time, I wouldn’t call him. If he was in such a hurry to die, let him go. 1 When I collapsed to the floor, my chest was in agonizing pain. I used the last of my strength to grab my phone. The memories of my past life echoed in my mind. My husband, Jax, a professional boxer, punching me over and over again. The pain of being treated like a sandbag until I died hadn’t faded. Reborn at this moment, I chose not to call him. I wouldn’t stop him from risking his life for his beloved Bella. But when I dialed 911, Jax’s best friend, Mike, picked up the phone. “Heart attack? Mona, you really just say whatever comes to your mind. I know you’re worried about Jax and want to stop him from fighting, but do you have to curse yourself like this?” Mike thought I couldn’t reach Jax, so I called him instead, making up a lie about a heart attack. “No… I wasn’t trying to find Jax…” “Mona, you don’t have to say it, I get it. It’s normal for women to be jealous, especially with a goddess like Bella around.” Mike started lecturing me. My breathing grew weaker. I couldn’t die now. If I died now, what was the point of being reborn? I gritted my teeth and told him to stop talking nonsense: “Send an ambulance to my house. If I die, it’s negligence on your part. I’m not talking about Jax right now.” “Mona, for the sake of you being Jax’s wife, I won’t report you for wasting public resources.” “We’re all adults here. Why are you so petty? Jax is his own person. He can risk his life for whoever he wants.” Mike hung up angrily. He said he’d never seen someone with no bottom line like me. Dragging personal drama into emergency services, throwing a tantrum. He said if this blew up, it would be Jax who lost face. I knew they were thick as thieves, but I didn’t expect Mike to be this bold. Hanging up on a distress call without confirming the situation. My consciousness began to blur. I barely had the strength to tap the screen. If this continued, I was definitely going to die! 2 In my past life, on the way to the underground fight where Jax was going to win back Bella’s heirloom, I called him back. He rushed me to the hospital, stayed with me through surgery, and missed his slot in the ring. By the time he got to the venue, the necklace belonging to Bella’s mother had been won by his opponent—a man Jax had beaten before. Jax saw the devastation in Bella’s eyes. He told her he was sorry. But Bella never saw him again. A few days later, news came of her death. To please the winner and get her mother’s necklace back, she had offered herself to him. But the man was a violent sadist. He abused Bella, leaving her covered in bruises. She thought she could endure it to get her property back. But the man broke his promise. Unable to bear the humiliation, Bella jumped from a high-rise. Jax handled her body. After the funeral, he didn’t blame me to my face. But a week later, he drugged me, tied me inside a heavy bag, and treated me like a target. Punch after punch landed on my body. “You faked a heart attack and made me miss my chance. That guy was a loser I’ve beaten before. It was a guaranteed win.” “It’s all your fault! You killed Bella! I should have watched you die of that heart attack!” “Mona, how did I end up marrying such a vicious woman?” He beat me until my ears rang and I hallucinated. My whole body screamed in pain. He blamed me for Bella’s death. He wanted me to pay with my life! “She lived with her mother her whole life. That was the only thing her mom left her. It was her reason to live. Just because you were jealous…” In the end, Jax beat me to death. Even then, he didn’t feel satisfied. He said he never wanted to see me in the next life. He said, “Mona, you toxic witch, dying a hundred times wouldn’t be enough.” … My body wouldn’t stop shaking. I finally managed to dial again. This time, it wasn’t Mike who answered. I gave my address and my condition. “Heart attack?” “It’s her again.” I heard Mike grab the phone from his colleague, shouting, “Mona, how many times are you going to pull this stunt? Give it up already!” “Mike, a life is at stake. Send the ambulance.” “Don’t let her fool you. This woman is a master manipulator. If she hadn’t tricked Jax back then, Bella and Jax would be married by now.” Mike was recounting my past to his coworkers. The night of our college graduation, we drank a lot. I had had a crush on Jax for years. He was a boxer, righteous and strong. On my first day of college, when a creep took photos of me on the subway, Jax beat him up and made him apologize. He said scum like that deserved to be punched out. He told me to be careful. I loved him for four years. That night, we got locked in a room together. We talked about everything. Later, in a drunken haze, he hugged me. He kissed me. His skin was burning hot. The moonlight was beautiful. Jax was fierce that night. I didn’t push him away. I thought he loved me. I didn’t know it was a setup. Jax had been drugged, and he suspected me. Because Bella “accidentally” found my diary, filled with my love for Jax. After that night, Jax said he would take responsibility. He would marry me. But he also loathed me. Even though we were married for years, he never touched me again. He thought I was dirty. No matter how I explained, he believed I tricked him. “Mona, seriously, grow up. Jax has already left. He might even be in the ring. Stop messing around behind his back.” Mike’s colleague didn’t dare take the risk and decided to dispatch an ambulance anyway. Mike laughed in the background. “Just wait and see. You’re definitely getting played by this woman. No wonder Jax’s heart is with Bella. Sometimes, Mona, you need to look in the mirror.” I lost my voice and passed out. But before the darkness took me, I heard the sirens. 3 I was rushed to the hospital. Thanks to the timely arrival, my life was saved. I lay in the hospital bed, the doctor ordering strict rest. As soon as I woke up, Mike was there. I thought he came to apologize. After all, due to his negligence, I had nearly died from a heart attack. But he was dismissive. “Mona, nice acting. You even fooled the Chief. Did you secretly do cardio at home to trigger an episode?” “…” I was speechless. I told Mike to get out. He said Jax specifically asked him to look after me. “Since you’re fine, I’ll call Jax.” “Is being a doctor a game to you?” I raged. “You’re basically a murderer.” Mike called Jax. He hadn’t gone on stage yet. He and Bella were at the venue. It was noisy. “Mona is fine. Alive and kicking. Don’t worry, Jax.” Jax’s voice was cold. “Good thing I didn’t come back. Almost got tricked by her again.” “You really will do anything. Can’t you be more generous? I already married you. What more do you want?” Jax scolded me. He had to go prep and didn’t have time to argue. I was exhausted and wanted to rest. But then, Bella took the phone. She even started a livestream. Bella said in a fake, sweet voice, “It’s all my fault. If I hadn’t begged Jax, you guys wouldn’t be fighting. Mona, just this once, lend Jax to me.” Bella said that item meant everything to her. I didn’t react. I said nothing. They were stunned. Usually, I would be screaming, demanding an explanation from Jax. But today, I was truly tired of it. In my past life, I gave Jax my heart and soul. He didn’t even look at it before trampling it into the dirt. He asked why I had to go against Bella. He married me intending to live a good life, but I was always “acting out.” “Mona, you’re worried about Jax too, right? I’ll livestream it for you.” Bella sounded like she was showing off. She said underground rings were chaotic and life-or-death. I had seen her Instagram post earlier. A photo of Jax’s back. Caption: The best childhood friend in the world, willing to risk his life for me! Jax replied: Always. I had even liked the post. The noise was unbearable. I was losing patience. “I don’t want to watch. Get out. The doctor said I need rest.” “Come on, Mona. Bella is doing this specifically for you,” Mike insisted. He was so annoying. “If I were you, I’d be writing my resignation letter right now.” He hung up on my emergency call. That was a massive violation. If I had died, Mike would face serious consequences. I wasn’t going to let him off the hook. Mike’s face changed. “Mona, we’re not enemies. If you keep talking like that, I’m going to get mad.” “What’s wrong, Mikey?” Bella started playing the saint. She told me to take my anger out on her. “I’m sorry, Mona. I asked Mikey to help me.” I recorded all of this. Just in case. These people weren’t human; they were pests. If they tried to bite back, I needed to be careful this time. Every step had to be calculated. A roar came from the phone. Bella screamed, cheering for Jax. “It started, Mona! I’m telling you, Jax looks so hot in the ring. You’ve never seen him box, have you?” “…” Bella bragged. In my past life, I would have been heartbroken. The man I loved for years, my husband, never boxed in front of me. But he would risk his life for Bella. I was jealous, sure. I was willing to let them have their “tragic romance.” But not by stepping over my dead body. The fight was brutal. I closed my eyes, refusing to watch. Suddenly, a gasp came from the phone. Bella sounded confused. “What happened? What’s wrong with Jax?” I saw Jax on the screen, lying motionless in the ring. Then, the screen went black!

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In my food delivery app’s annual wrap-up, I saw the longest delivery note my boyfriend, Julian Vance, had written all year. [Please don’t knock. The baby is only a month old. Leave the flowers at the door of the hospital room or call my wife.] But Julian and I didn’t have a child. And he had never called me “wife.” I tracked down that order. I confirmed the baby’s birth date and the hospital. On that day, I was cooking coconut chicken for Julian and accidentally sliced my artery. Blood was everywhere, but he insisted on driving me to a hospital twenty miles away. He claimed the doctors there were better, that he wanted the best for me. It turns out, he just wanted to be near where his son was born. The card attached to those flowers read: [Thank you, wifey, for giving me a complete family.] But Julian… A person cannot have two families at the same time. 1 I never thought Julian would cheat. Let alone have a child with another woman. Seeing everyone posting their “Year in Review” from delivery apps, I casually opened Julian’s phone. My fingerprint was registered on his phone, but I never checked it. Julian used to argue with me about this, saying his friends’ wives always checked their phones. He asked if I didn’t care enough about him. I laughed at his childishness back then. I told him: “Love is something you feel. You don’t need proof. I trust you one hundred percent.” Today I realized, the joke was on me. His child with someone else was already growing up, and I hadn’t noticed a thing. Just then, a WeChat message popped up on Julian’s phone: [Julian, look! The baby loves the plushie you sent. He says thank you, Daddy!] The contact name was “Annie.” A video followed. The baby looked about seven or eight months old. Big, bright eyes stared at the woman filming. His little hands waved excitedly as he babbled, “Da-da.” It was a heartwarming video. But the woman’s voice and the baby’s babble felt like knives carving into my heart. The sound of water in the bathroom faded. I wiped the tears from my face. Julian walked out in a loose bathrobe. He sat on the bed and hugged me gently. With one glance, he knew something was wrong. He pinched the tip of my nose. “Why the long face? Did I make you wait too long?” The air filled with the lemon scent of his body wash. I loved that smell. For ten years, Julian always used lemon-scented wash, regardless of the brand. I tried to control my emotions, but my red eyes betrayed me. “Have you been crying?” Julian asked, his eyes full of concern. “Julian, are you in love with someone else?” I stared at him. His expression didn’t change. He just smiled and kissed my cheek. “Who else could I love in this lifetime besides you? You’ve had me wrapped around your finger for ages.” “I just had a dream. I dreamt you were hugging another woman.” Julian ruffled my hair and sighed helplessly. “You’re a grown woman, still taking dreams seriously?” I didn’t speak. The phone on the nightstand buzzed relentlessly. Julian picked it up and frowned. Quickly, he composed himself. “Something came up at the company. I need to go out. Go to sleep early, don’t wait up, okay?” I glanced at the screen. It was that woman, “Annie.” I looked up at Julian. “Can you stay?” I always supported his work. I never asked him to skip work for me. Julian paused for a second, but didn’t change his mind. “Be good. I’ll be back soon.” Watching his hurried retreat, my heart sank deeper. Today was our tenth anniversary. The Juliet roses he gave me were still in the bedroom. He said he wanted to be with me for every year to come. I believed him. But then I saw the exact same bouquet in “Annie’s” moments. 2 I followed Julian to a private hospital. I watched him enter a VIP room. As the door opened, I saw the woman’s face. Chloe Jiang. I should have guessed. Since last year, Julian mentioned Chloe frequently. Every time he spoke of her, his eyes lit up with an admiration I had never seen before. I fought with him many times about her. Julian would get angry: “Elena, stop being unreasonable. Chloe is just a business partner.” Although we argued often, he eventually agreed to stop contacting her, as per my request. Until today, I realized he hadn’t stopped contacting her. He just stopped doing it in front of me. I stood frozen outside the ward. Inside, Chloe was sobbing. “I’m sorry, Julian. I didn’t want to call you so late, but Leo suddenly got a fever, and I panicked.” Julian held her, comforting her. “I’m Leo’s father. It’s my duty to be here. Don’t worry, he’ll be fine.” “I saw your post. Today is your anniversary with Elena. Will she be mad I called you out?” “It’s fine. The child is more important,” Julian said flatly. “Elena is easy to coax. She won’t find out.” Their silhouettes overlapped, looking intimately close under the warm yellow light. Separated by a wall, I called Julian. His phone rang. I watched him hang up. Like I was possessed, I called again and again. After being hung up on multiple times, Julian finally answered. “Elena, I told you before I left that something important came up at the company! Can you stop bothering me?!” He kept his voice low, probably afraid of waking the child, but his impatience was palpable. He sounded like a completely different person from the man comforting Chloe. “My hand hurts.” I only said three words. Julian paused noticeably. I looked at my left hand. A centipede-like scar crawled up the back of my hand. It was from Julian’s birthday. I was making coconut chicken for him when the cleaver slipped. Blood gushed out. Julian frantically drove me to a private hospital. At the time, I didn’t understand. There was a hospital two miles away. Why did he drive twenty miles to this specific private hospital? The doctor said if we had been any later, the severed nerve might not have been reconnectable. Julian explained that the doctors here were better. Now I know. Chloe was in this hospital that day. Julian risked my permanent disability just to welcome his child with Chloe. “Can you come home now?” I asked, refusing to give up. “Elena, when will you grow up! Playing the victim when you don’t get your way? I’m tired of your little tricks!” A chill spread from my hand to my entire body. All those beautiful memories seemed to vanish in that instant. I pushed open the door. “Julian, I’m tired of them too.” 3 Julian looked at me in shock. “You followed me!” The man in front of me felt incredibly strange. He was the one cheating, yet he showed no intention of explaining. He looked even angrier than I was. “Julian, don’t you think you owe me an explanation?” “There’s nothing to explain. Chloe is my partner. Her child is sick, I’m just helping out.” Even now, he was still lying to me. “Do partners need to cuddle in the middle of the night?” “Elena, stop being so nasty. What cuddling?” “You can’t handle the truth? My words are nasty, but your actions are uglier. Julian, you have a child with someone else, and you’re still lying to me?” Julian finally panicked. His eyes darted away. “Who told you the child is mine?” He strode over to me. “Elena, listen to me, it’s not what you think…” “Is it your child?!” I stared straight into his eyes. The rest of his sentence died in his throat. There was no need to ask anymore. But he grabbed my arm and wouldn’t let go. “Julian, you’re hurting me!” I wasn’t lying on the phone. My hand really hurt. Even though I was mentally prepared, witnessing his betrayal made my body react physically. If I hadn’t braced myself against the wall, I might have collapsed. My wrist was already swollen. Under Julian’s grip, the bruising became visible. Julian noticed my hand and apologized profusely. “Sorry, Elena, I didn’t mean to. I’ll take you to get it treated.” “No need!” Our loud argument woke the child. A loud cry erupted from the room. Chloe held the baby, rocking him gently. She looked at me with reproach. “Elena, whatever grievance you have with me, the child is innocent. He had a fever all night. Please let him sleep for a while. I’m begging you, okay?” Tears streamed down her pale face. She looked pitiful. Julian, who was just worried about my injury, suddenly shouted at me. “Elena, enough! Even if you’ve never been a mother, have some basic sympathy!” Ignoring my protests, Julian dragged me to the surgical clinic. My swollen arm looked gruesome. The doctor sighed while treating it. “Young lady, if you don’t take care of your body, this hand will be useless.” Julian pressed his lips together tightly, carefully examining my wound. “Does it hurt?” His voice was hoarse. “You’re an adult, why can’t you take care of yourself?” “If you hadn’t pulled me so hard, it wouldn’t be this bad.” “Elena, that child has nothing to do with me, I…” I slammed a copy of the birth certificate on the table. It clearly stated: Leo Fu. Mother: Chloe Jiang. Father: Julian Vance. 4 Julian tore the copy to shreds. “Elena, where did you get this! What are you trying to do? “You found out a long time ago, didn’t you? You investigated me?” Julian’s eyes turned red. “Didn’t you say you’d always trust me?” “Not anymore. Julian, let’s break up.” I was unusually calm. The light in Julian’s eyes dimmed. He held my hand tight, his voice trembling. “Elena, there’s really nothing between Chloe and me. We just have a child. “Chloe is different from you. She doesn’t believe in marriage. She doesn’t want a family, she only cares about her career! She just wanted a child. She didn’t mean to ruin us. “I helped her fulfill her wish, she invested in my company. It’s just a business deal! I never thought about breaking up with you!” Julian felt I should understand him. He rambled on with his explanation. “Elena, you enjoyed the money I made too, didn’t you?” The Julian in front of me was a stranger. Maybe he wasn’t lying completely. I just never imagined the noble, idealistic boy I knew would become someone so profit-driven. So what was my persistence all these years for? I met Julian in college. He was one of the few scholarship students in our year, but he was exceptionally handsome. There were only two kinds of people at school: those who liked him, and those who hated him because he was too popular. The latter attacked his poverty to mock him. So, back then, Julian hated rich people the most. And I was the former. But I was also the thing he hated most: rich. To pursue Julian, I pretended to be poor for years. I even broke ties with my parents because I refused their arranged marriage candidates. Now Julian tells me he had a child with another woman for money. How absurd is that? 5 Our memories were interrupted by Chloe. “Julian, Leo won’t sleep. He keeps asking for Daddy.” Julian didn’t look at Chloe. He kept staring at me. “Go,” I said. The knot in Julian’s brow loosened at my words. I added, “Since you have a child, I wish you a happy family.” “Elena, be reasonable. I said I didn’t want to break up. I promise I’ll go to the courthouse with you tomorrow to get married, okay?” Julian sounded like he was doing me a favor. In ten years, I asked him many times when we would get married. He always refused, saying the company was just starting up and he was too busy. I never expected his first proposal to be in a situation like this. People passing by stopped to watch our dispute. Chloe suddenly raised her voice. “Elena, whatever you want with Julian, our child is too young and he’s sick. Please have mercy and let Julian comfort him. I don’t want to fight you for anything. Just understand a mother’s heart, please?” Chloe’s words sparked the crowd’s imagination. “So she’s the mistress!” “Mistresses are so arrogant these days, causing a scene in front of the wife.” “And while the child is sick! How vicious!” “That guy looks rich. Young girls these days will do anything for money.” The whispers were endless. Julian remained silent, offering no defense for me. “Julian, let’s go.” Chloe urged him at the right moment. “Elena, I’ll go see the child first.” Julian slowly squatted down on one knee. “Tomorrow, we get married.” Without waiting for my answer, Julian turned and left. The crowd continued to gossip. I couldn’t hold it back anymore. Tears fell to the floor. Julian had always been steady and responsible. I had imagined what he would be like as a father. I just never imagined he would be a father to someone else’s child. My phone rang. It was my mother. “Elena, are you coming home for New Year’s this year? Stop being mad at your dad. He misses you, he just can’t put down his pride.” “Mom, I’m coming home tomorrow.” Hearing my answer, my mother sounded overjoyed. “Good, good! Come home. How long can you stay? I’ll prepare everything.” “I’m not leaving again.” 6 I packed all night. At dawn, Julian returned. He hemmed and hawed for a long time before saying: “Elena, let’s go get the marriage license next week.” “Whatever.” “Elena, don’t be mad. The child isn’t fully recovered and keeps clinging to me. I can’t get away. The doctor says he needs a month. In a month, I will definitely marry you.” Julian looked guilty. If he had looked closely at the apartment, he would have noticed that many things were already packed in suitcases. Since he didn’t care to notice, I didn’t bother emphasizing that we were breaking up, not getting married. “If you’re done, you can go.” I was calm. Julian, on the other hand, looked flustered. “Elena, please understand. I promise, just this once.” “Mm. I understand.” After hesitating, Julian went to the study and brought out a box. He tried to hide it from me. But I had opened it yesterday while packing. It was a jade longevity lock for his son, engraved with “Leo.” I compared the jade. It was cut from the same stone as the bangle on my wrist. That was my birthday present from Julian this year. On my birthday, he said he had a business trip. We fought about it. That night, he came back and gave me the bangle. He said he lied about the trip to surprise me with the gift. I was moved then. Now I see he didn’t lie for the surprise. He lied for his son. Julian hid the box behind his back. “Elena, I’m going. See you at the courthouse next week.” The door clicked shut softly, but it felt like a heavy weight smashing onto my heart. The room was quiet. I dragged my suitcase and took one last look at the home where I had placed so much love and hope. Then I turned and left. Goodbye, Julian.

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To everyone who looked at us, my sister and I were the perfect children, the absolute gold standard. No matter how brutal the exam, we were the twin prodigies who always clinched the top two spots in the grade, usually with matching perfect scores. That illusion shattered during the last mid-term. When I missed the grade-A student’s podium, landing in second place by a single, agonizing point, my mother’s face, for the first time, was a mask of sheer, cold disappointment. “Audra, are you even embarrassed? Losing the top spot by a single point?” My sister, Penny, who’d just wrapped up a round of Fortnite on her headset, looked up with an unsettling calmness. “It’s just pathetic, Sis.” “To throw away such an easy point.” I wrung the hem of my shirt and started to speak. “Next time, I promise—” But Mom cut me off, her voice sharp as glass as she pointed toward my room. “Don’t you dare talk back! You think I don’t know that look?!” “Ten practice tests. You don’t come out until they’re finished. And you don’t eat a bite of dinner!” Locked inside, I heard the familiar, low, angry murmur of my parents’ argument starting up. “She’s a child, Joyce! You’re going to starve her just for one point?” my father, Rick, protested. “Starve her? She just failed us! What right does she have to eat?” “Besides,” Mom’s voice dropped to a cutting whisper, “what’s one night going to hurt?” Their fighting made my head swim. My consciousness blurred, and a strange, desperate fantasy began to form: If only I could truly be the flawless, gold-medal child my mother wanted… The next second, a sterile, synthesized voice whispered in my ear. “Congratulations, Player. You have successfully triggered the Golden Child System.” “Do you wish to activate?” 1 When the Golden Child System actually materialized before me—not as a ghost, but as a chillingly real interface—I hesitated. “What’s the cost?” I whispered, my heart hammering. “The cost? You will be entirely overwritten by the perfect persona. To put it simply, upon system activation, the ‘you’ you are now will cease to exist.” The raw sound of my parents’ argument continued to echo from the hallway. “You blame me for being hard on her?! What other choice do I have?” Mom wailed. “The fortune teller said Penny is a born savant, a golden ticket, but Audra is a remedial class waiting to happen!” “We liquidated almost everything—sold the custom house and the good car—just to afford the best tutors and brain-boosting programs to claw our way back to good grades for Audra!” “And now she’s slipping…” “She isn’t the prettiest, Rick, and if she doesn’t have perfect grades, what will she have? Who will want her when she’s older? I’m terrified!” My mother’s painful sobs blended with my father’s frustrated sighs. I could barely hear them anymore, too consumed by my own realization. That’s why our big, beautiful custom kitchen had been replaced by this cramped townhouse. That’s why Dad was constantly staying late at the office. That’s why Mom’s meticulously maintained face now had those sharp, new worry lines, and her hair was streaked with gray. That’s why Penny’s designer clothes were fewer, and she often looked at me with a strange mix of regret and judgment. It was all because of me! I was dragging them all down. Looking at the void, I nodded, the action surprisingly firm. “I agree. I will activate the Golden Child System.” “Acknowledged. Deducting all current assets from the Player’s account.” I reflexively tried to interrupt. “Wait!” “Can I please keep seventy-five dollars?” The system’s voice was laced with digital impatience. “Negotiation is prohibited.” I clutched the crumpled fabric of my shirt, a final, desperate plea escaping my lips. “Please. Tomorrow is my mother’s birthday. I want to give her a gift. One last time.” After a long silence that stretched forever, the system finally relented. “Fine. Consider it a holiday bonus. Seventy-five dollars retained.” “However, your persona will be completely suppressed by the end of tomorrow. You are advised to say your final goodbyes now.” I nodded, feeling a quiet understanding settle over me. After the system vanished, I heard a sharp rapping on the door, followed by a low, furious mutter. “What? Are you sulking because I yelled at you? How old are you, throwing a tantrum?” “Fine. Don’t open it. I’m taking your plate. Starve, for all I care!” “Honestly, I must have signed away my soul in a past life for this child!” I couldn’t bring myself to open the door. I was terrified that if I looked at my mother, I would burst into tears and beg the system to abort. Only after the sound of the TV had faded did I dare to pull the door open. The hallway was dark and empty. On the dining table, a bowl of smash potato sat beside a pile of my favorite dishes. Next to the plate was a small, untouched slice of my favorite strawberry cake. I pressed my hand hard against my mouth, stifling a sob. 2 The next morning, I planned to wear a new, crisp button-down shirt—my final, clean slate for a day of goodbyes to my friends. But the moment Mom saw the shirt, her face darkened instantly. “Audra Sophia, have you lost your mind with all those worksheets?” “Why are you putting on a brand-new uniform shirt for a regular school day?” The bite of my bagel suddenly tasted like sawdust. I mumbled an excuse. “Because…” Penny, adjusting her glasses, spoke up, her tone frighteningly cold. “They’ve been talking at school about you hanging around with boys, Sis. Looks like the rumors were true.” Hanging around with boys? I’d just been cornering the Calculus TA in the library to ask about an obscure theorem… But Mom didn’t wait for an explanation. Her hand lashed out, delivering a hard, stinging slap across my cheek. She was shaking with fury. “How dare you! You’re already chasing after boys?!” “And here I was, feeling guilty last night for getting upset over one measly point!” “Your mind hasn’t been on your studies for months, has it?” The spot where she struck me burned. Before I could even cry out, she roughly yanked the new shirt off my body, forcing the faded, threadbare polo I normally wore back onto me. She then violently pulled the carefully tied high ponytail I’d spent so long perfecting, tearing the tie out and only stopping when my hair was a tangled, wild mess. In the bathroom mirror, I looked like a desperate mess. “You will go to school looking like this every single day from now on!” “See if you dare to have any ‘bad intentions’ when you look like a madwoman!” I looked toward my father, my eyes pleading. Usually, he would step in and be the peacemaker. But this time, he was just as furious. “Don’t look at me. You heard your mother.” “Young woman, you should be focused on your studies, not on this irrelevant nonsense!” I sniffled, holding back my tears. I reached out to grab a bagel to eat on the way, but Mom snatched my hand away. “What are you eating for?!” “Get out! Go to school! Just looking at you makes me sick!” I silently slung my backpack over my shoulder and waited by the door for Penny. Mom helped Penny perfectly braid her hair and handed her a pre-packed bento box. “The fruit today is excellent. Make sure you share with your friends at school.” She caught my pitiful gaze, and her expression chilled instantly. “There’s nothing for you today.” “You can have a fruit cup the day you get back to the number one spot.” I nodded, the disappointment a heavy weight in my chest. But then I remembered that this was my last day with them, and I managed a small, forced smile. “Okay, Mom.” As I opened the door to leave, she called out, “Wait!” “I haven’t given you this yet!” A flicker of hopeful anticipation sparked in me. The next second, her action crushed it. She shoved a thick stack of advanced placement workbooks into my already full backpack. The weight caused my shoulder to slump instantly. She didn’t hesitate to push me out the door. “There. Go to school.” “Oh, and by the way, you are to submit a Daily Accountability Report every evening.” “Everything you did in school, everything you studied—written out clearly. Don’t try to fake it. I will call your teachers and your classmates to verify every detail.” Penny stood beside her, headphones on, playing a game, completely oblivious. A bitter taste filled my mouth. Why did she get the effortless perfection, everything she wanted? Why could I never, no matter how hard I tried, stand beside her? I shook my head, trying to banish the ugliness. It was okay. After today, I would be their flawless child. They would never differentiate between us again. I suddenly looked forward to tomorrow. 3 The moment school was over, I rushed to the mall to buy Mom’s gift. It was a long commute, and I didn’t get home until after eight that evening. I threw open the door, excitement overriding caution. “Mom, happy birthday!!” “Look what I got you…” But I was met with my mother’s furious, ink-black face. She blocked the doorway, stopping me from entering, a heavy object—a rolled-up magazine, perhaps—held tight in her hand. “Audra Sophia, it’s eight o’clock. Where in the hell have you been?!” “Do you have any idea how worried your father and I were?” Dad’s voice, tired and strained, came from the living room. “It’s your mother’s birthday, Audra. Can you just keep it together for once?!” Penny snatched the bag from my hand and tossed it onto the floor. “You are impossible, Sis! We waited for hours, and you’re out shopping with your boyfriend!” I instinctively lunged to grab the bag. “No, I wasn’t! I didn’t!” “That’s for my…” But in their eyes, my frantic denial was a clear sign of guilt. “No, huh?” Mom ripped the bag open. She roughly tore the elegant wrapping paper and stared at the delicate silver necklace inside. She froze for a moment, picking up the chain. “What is this…” Did she recognize it? I swallowed and took the chance to explain. “It’s your birthday gift, Mom!” “Every time we walk past the Tiffany counter at the mall, you always stop and stare at that gold necklace…” “You always say it’s ‘just okay,’ but I know how much you love it. I couldn’t afford the gold, so I bought you the silver one instead…” “But I know you won’t mind, right?” I spoke faster, more excitedly, reaching for the chain. “Mom, let me try it on you! If it doesn’t fit, we can still exchange it tomorrow!” Mom jerked her hand back, her eyes narrowed with suspicion. “Really?” Her gaze made my stomach churn, but I managed to hold her stare and nod. The atmosphere grew thick and heavy. Finally, Dad spoke. “Alright, alright. The child made an effort. Stop being so paranoid, Joyce.” “Audra, go wash your hands. We’re eating dinner.” I sighed in relief. The next second, the heavy magazine in Mom’s hand snapped across my leg. “Only he would believe that garbage!” she hissed. “I saw the price tag! This cost several hundred dollars! Where did a student like you get that kind of money?” I cried out, doubling over from the pain. “Aah! That was… my savings! From all my birthday money!” She paused for a second. Then she struck me again, harder. “You’re still lying! You spent all your allowance on those advanced placement books months ago! There’s nothing left!” “Tell me—did that tramp from school buy this for you?!” “I am a total failure! How did I raise a child like you?!” I tried to endure the pain, reaching out to support her trembling body. “Mom, no. You’re not a failure. I’m the problem!” “I’m not good enough…” She shoved my hands away with surprising force. “Get out!” Her voice was frail, almost a whisper. “If only I just had Penny. If I only had one daughter…” I looked up to see her clutching her chest, her breathing shallow and ragged. “Mom—” She collapsed to the floor. Dad immediately called an ambulance. As I tried to follow them, Penny blocked me from getting into the vehicle. “Audra Sophia, you just caused Mom to faint. How dare you even try to get in the car?!” Helpless, I grabbed my father’s sleeve, tears streaming down my face. “Dad, please! I want to go to the hospital with you!” But he angrily flung my hand away. “Stop making things worse! Are you trying to kill me too?!” I fell hard to the pavement. He didn’t look back, climbing into the ambulance as the doors slammed shut. The siren wailed as the car sped away. I ran after it. “Mom!” “Mom!!” But no matter how loud I screamed, the ambulance never stopped for me. I stared blankly at its disappearing taillights. “System, can you activate the program now?” The cold, synthetic voice responded instantly. “Your current neural network has not achieved full sensory suppression. Premature activation will result in unimaginable, excruciating pain.” “Do you wish to proceed?” I nodded, utterly resolute. In less than a second, a line of blood bloomed on my forearm. The system was forcibly implanting a neural chip beneath my skin. A strange sensation washed over me—an intense, sickening feeling of something else tearing at my body, fighting for control of my consciousness. As the physical pain slowly began to recede, I heard my own voice—but not my tone—speak the final command. “Golden Child System officially initiated.”

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My mom suspected I was underdeveloped because of my chest size, so she kidnapped me and dragged me to a doctor. The doctor turned out to be my ex-boyfriend, whom I had just broken up with. He looked cold and distant: “Pull your shirt down to your collarbone, unhook your bra.” Then he deliberately teased me: “It is pretty small.” I gritted my teeth and shifted the blame: “Small chest? Blame the ex-boyfriend for not working hard enough.” The next second, I was pinned against the exam table, his voice dangerous: “Seems the examination wasn’t thorough enough. “Looks like I need to keep working hard.” 1 “Patient number 52, Chloe Miller, please proceed to Exam Room 2.” The moment the automated voice announced my name. I stared at the sign reading [Thoracic Surgery: Dr. Ethan Black], grinding my teeth so hard they might crack. I glanced sideways at the lean figure behind the glass door. The hint of his waistline under the white coat reminded me of certain unspeakable scenes. A month ago, that waist was pressing down on me, whispering “last time.” Now he looked like a refined scumbag. “Why are you zoning out?” My mom slapped my back. “Dr. Black is a top expert who returned from overseas. Getting an appointment with him is like winning the lottery! I only got one because his mom and I are best friends.” Before I could ask how my mom knew his mom, I heard a cold voice: “Next.” When the exam room door opened. The man I hadn’t seen for a month wore a blue mask, the cuffs of his white coat slightly rolled up. His eyes were indifferent, eyebrows slightly raised: “Want to get back together?” “Here for a checkup.” I stiffened my neck, catching a glimpse of his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Where does it hurt?” Before I could answer, my mom rushed in: “Ethan, I’m your Auntie Lin. Take a look at my daughter. Her chest is so small, is it developmental issues?” My mom’s loud voice echoed in the exam room. My toes were actively constructing a magical castle in my shoes. “Auntie.” Ethan pushed up his glasses. “Chest size is related to genetics, nutrition…” “Exactly!” My mom nodded repeatedly. “Do you think it’s because she drank the wrong formula milk as a kid?” When Ethan wrote [Patient’s family suspects formula caused underdeveloped chest] in the medical record. My toes had finished Phase 2 of the castle. If I have sinned, let the law punish me. Not by having my own mother suspect I’m underdeveloped because of a small chest and force me to see a doctor. And the doctor is my ex-boyfriend from a month ago. “Palpation required.” Ethan stood up, flashing a professional smile at my mom. “Family members, please wait outside.” I clutched the registration slip, smiling without humor. “Can I change doctors?” He didn’t even look up, his tone distant and indifferent: “Turn right out the door, re-register, and queue up again.” “Oh, no need, the queue is so long.” My mom immediately pressed me onto the exam table. “What’s wrong with a male doctor? You young people are so conservative. In a doctor’s eyes, there is no gender.” I felt lifeless. No gender in a doctor’s eyes, but what about in an ex-boyfriend’s? Besides, since when does a thoracic expert handle developmental issues??? 2 Ethan raised his hand to close the privacy curtain, adjusted his glasses, and signaled me: “Pull your shirt up, unhook your bra.” I clutched the hem of my shirt tightly, glaring at him. “You… you’re abusing your power for personal revenge!” He put his hands in his coat pockets, looking composed, and coldly reminded me: “Miss Miller, first, you registered for my clinic. “Second, I am a doctor. Treating patients is my job. “Finally, is there any part of you I haven’t seen?” Me: … Fine, you win… I gritted my teeth, took a deep breath, and unhooked my bra. Heart pounding, eyes closed, I pulled my shirt up. His hands were a bit cold, making me shiver when they touched my skin. “Don’t be nervous.” “Who… who’s nervous…” “High heart rate.” The corner of his mouth hooked into an imperceptible smile. Head down, checking very seriously. “Any sensation?” I turned my head to the side, huffing: “No!” “No?” He frowned, puzzled. “No sensation means no sensation. Dr. Black’s technique is too poor. We broke up, do you expect me to fake it?” Since I couldn’t win physically, I chose to win verbally. “Heh, my technique is poor?” He lowered his eyes slightly, locking gazes with me through his lenses, voice cold and deep. “Chloe, speak with your conscience.” I cursed silently, Isn’t my conscience being touched by you right now? He applied a bit more pressure. “How about now?” Me: “Feels like you’re pinching me…” He looked up, staring straight at me, and sighed. “Any pain?” “No!” “Distention pain?” “No!” “Is it itchy usually?” “Oh right, it’s not here that itches.” Me: !!! “Ethan Black, have you touched enough!” Blushing, I abruptly propped myself up, almost hitting his chin: “Don’t you know if I’m sick or not?” “So far, there doesn’t seem to be any problem, but…” His hands finally let go of me. His low laugh suddenly rang in the air: “It is pretty small.” I gritted my teeth, retorting defiantly: “Small chest? Blame the ex-boyfriend for not working hard enough!” Suddenly, he grabbed my waist, and I fell into his arms by inertia. The scent of faint woody cologne wafted from his white coat. His breathing was heavy, his voice dangerous: “What, want me to work harder? Trying the same trick again?” His face wore undisguised mockery. 3 Yes, we got together purely because I stalked him relentlessly until he had no choice but to give in. Back then, I accompanied my best friend to the doctor and fell for Ethan’s devastating looks at first sight. White coat, gold-rimmed glasses, broad shoulders, long legs—the ascetic vibe was maxed out. I have a thing for hands. Watching his slender, distinct knuckles typing on the keyboard beat a drum in my heart. I clung to the doorframe, swallowing hard, heart rate soaring. Finally understood the suspension bridge effect. Give me a heart bypass right now! My best friend was hospitalized for a month due to arrhythmia from looking at male models. I became an unofficial staff member of the thoracic surgery department. Morning bubble tea delivery? Criticized for excessive sugar. Lunch bento delivery? Criticized for nutritional imbalance. Evening stakeouts? Lectured on irregular sleep schedules. After I faked low blood sugar and fell into his arms for thirty consecutive days, Ethan finally cornered me in the stairwell: “Chloe, what exactly do you want?” “You.” I gritted my teeth, tiptoeing to pull his tie: “Okay? “Dr. Black, my heart races whenever I see you. What should I do?” Later, when he pinned me against the wall and kissed me. I realized even high-altitude flowers bite when provoked. But soon I discovered this man was a monk. Three months to hold hands, six months to kiss. Every time I wanted to deepen the exchange, he rejected me firmly with those enchanting eyes: “This is too fast.” I played tug-of-war for six months before using a honey trap to push him down. However, the high-altitude flower wasn’t cold in bed at all. He wore me out every time. Love should be sweet, but his job was special. He practically lived on the operating table. Leaving at 7 AM and returning at 8 or 9 PM was normal. I wanted some action when he got home, but he had to review cases, write papers, take exams. Even a workhorse would call him brother. At a vigorous age, I craved him. Couldn’t stand this feast-or-famine life. On my birthday, I hadn’t had any for half a month. I swore I would push him down. But the movie just started when a phone call sent him running back to the hospital. I finished the movie alone, ate hot pot alone, feeling incredibly lonely and wronged. Sent him WeChat messages, no reply. When I brought food to the hospital to see him, he was sitting with a female doctor, discussing a case intently. Their faces showed undisguised admiration. Indescribably compatible. In an instant, my enthusiasm deflated. Someone like Ethan is fine for sleeping with. Not suitable for marriage. He’s an excellent doctor at a top hospital; I’m a broke writer who loves pretty faces. Truly mismatched. And at that moment, I suddenly didn’t want to sleep with him anymore. So, I proposed a breakup. He asked why. I gave a reason that would kill any man’s heart: “Your technique sucks.” Then I blocked all his contact info. After the breakup, he never looked for me. Anyway, I dumped him. Now that I accidentally registered for his clinic, it looks like I regretted it and came back to chase him. 4 I hurriedly reached back to fasten my bra hook. “Dr. Black, you’re overthinking it. My mom registered me. “Also, I don’t play with the same man twice.” I retorted defiantly. But I couldn’t fasten the hook. He pressed close to me, suddenly wrapping his arms around my waist. Deftly helping me hook my bra. Caught off guard by his sudden move, I was flustered. He spoke first, voice cool: “No need to thank me. “Practice makes perfect.” I used to tease him about his dexterous hands, good for scalpels and unhooking bras with one hand. I gritted my teeth, deliberately sarcastic: “Dr. Black is so considerate, even hooking bras for female patients.” He smiled faintly, composed: “You’re welcome. “It’s also my first time encountering a female patient seeking treatment for a small chest.” Me: … After a moment of silence, I was still thinking of a comeback. My mom knocked and entered. Seeing my bad expression, she hurriedly asked Ethan: “Dr. Black, does my daughter have some problem?” Ethan stepped back to a safe distance: “Auntie, don’t worry, no problems.” My mom exhaled a long breath: “That’s good, that’s good…” Then she asked heartbrokenly: “But her sister and I are both Ds. Why is she an A?” I silently buried my face in my hands. “Maybe—” Holding back laughter, he pushed up his glasses: “She takes after her uncle.” Dead silence. My mom still wouldn’t give up: “So my daughter’s chest really has no hope?” “Suggest eating more papaya.” Ethan’s gaze swept over me, seemingly unintentional, a distinct smile on his lips: “Of course, auxiliary massage is also effective. “Some women may experience secondary development during lactation.” My mom slapped her thigh, enlightened: “Got it, she just needs to find a man.” Her eyes lit up, looking at him: “Ethan, heard from your mom you just broke up. What do you think of my daughter?” My head buzzed. Hurriedly stopping my mom, whispering: “Mom, don’t matchmake randomly…” My mom stomped her foot anxiously: “I saw Dr. Black’s profile outside. PhD, Deputy Chief Physician, young and promising. And handsome! Perfect for our genes. If your mom were 20 years younger, I’d have made a move already. “He just broke up, the rebound period needs comfort most. Hurry up and take advantage! “Um, Dr. Black, how about adding WeChat? If Chloe feels uncomfortable later, she can consult you online?” Ethan looked up at me. I blinked frantically. Because he was still on my blacklist. “Sure.” But he took out his phone, QR code directly in my face: “Please scan it yourself, Miss Miller.” I bit the bullet and scanned the code. Beep. Ethan’s avatar appeared on the screen. Below the message box was a small line of text: Added to blacklist. You will no longer receive messages from this person. “Haven’t received the friend request yet.” He reminded me. I gritted my teeth, secretly removing him from the blacklist: “Done.” He nodded with a smile: “Good, I’ll send the medical advice to Miss Miller.” I silently rolled my eyes. Bullshit, what medical advice for a small chest? A few minutes later, Ethan sent a WeChat message: [Chest Massage Techniques Complete Guide.pdf] [Proper massage can promote development and prevent breast hyperplasia.] I smiled through gritted teeth: “Dr. Black truly has a healer’s heart.” Dr. Black: “Free medical guidance available.”

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