Category: English

I was the princess of the Phoenix Clan, born with the purest bloodline. On the day of my coming-of-age ceremony, when I revealed my true form before the entire clan, I transformed not into a glorious phoenix, but into a wretched, lowly black serpent. Yet the stray jade rabbit I had rescued manifested a true phoenix form, and was hailed by all as a divine being. I was condemned as an impure mongrel, cast down from the altar and into the mire. My lord father, the Phoenix King, declared the rabbit was his long-lost daughter and summoned divine lightning to flay the flesh from my bones. My own brother tore my spiritual core from my chest to present as a gift to his newfound sister. And my fiancé, the man I grew up with, took the rabbit into his arms, the two of them whispering sweet nothings to each other. As I lay dying, the rabbit herself cast my fading spirit into the Chasm of Annihilation, where gods and immortals are extinguished forever. Even in death, one question haunted me: if my blood was truly that of a phoenix, why had I become a serpent? When I opened my eyes again, I was reborn, one day before the ceremony. 1 “Your Highness, the Gown of a Hundred Feathers has arrived for tomorrow’s ceremony! The Emperor himself also prepared a phoenix hairpin for you. He said it would be a perfect match!” Rosalie chattered excitedly, her eyes stealing glances at the magnificent gown. Woven from the plumes of a hundred different celestial birds with threads of pure gold, it shimmered with an iridescent light. Her hand reached out, wanting to touch it. “It has been millennia since the clan has woven a new Gown of a Hundred Feathers,” she breathed in awe. “It is truly beautiful.” The familiar words sent a tremor through my body. The searing agony of divine lightning, the brutal tearing as my spiritual core was carved from my chest—the memories were as vivid as if they had just happened. My eyes reddened. Was I… reborn? In my past life, I had been ecstatic to receive this gown. Ever since my mother, the Phoenix Queen, had perished, no new phoenix had been born into our clan for thousands of years. All their hopes rested on me. I was the only child of the Phoenix Queen and the Golden Dragon King, the princess with the purest bloodline. On the eve of my ceremony, the entire clan had pooled their resources to create this gown, a symbol of my destiny. I had lovingly put it on and gone to my ceremony, filled with joy. But there, before the eyes of thousands, I had transformed into a wretched snake. Horror swept through the crowd. My lord father’s face darkened. “Lyra, this is a sacred occasion! Stop this foolishness and reveal your true form at once!” I was just as stunned, writhing in my serpent form, trying desperately to summon my power. But no matter how many times I tried, I remained a snake. On my ninety-ninth attempt, a clear, piercing phoenix cry echoed from the heavens. I looked up, dumbfounded. It was the jade rabbit I had rescued. A golden light erupted from her body, followed by a cascade of dazzling, multi-colored feathers. She was a phoenix. The clan fell to their knees, hailing her as a divine being and condemning me as an impure mongrel. I looked to my father, tears blurring my vision. But he was looking at the rabbit, his own eyes wet with tears. “I never imagined… my daughter, Sylvana, has been lost to us for millennia, her identity usurped by this lowly serpent! How dare she!” With a wave of his hand, he brought down the heavens’ fury. Divine lightning struck me, tearing my flesh and drenching me in my own blood. Through my screams, my brother, Kael, personally ripped my spiritual core from my body and presented it to the rabbit as a welcome gift. “You have suffered, my dear sister,” he said. “Take the core of this imposter. Though its blood is vile, it may serve as a trifle for your amusement.” I lay dying in a pool of my own blood, my last hope turning to my fiancé, the Celestial Prince Valerius. We had trained together since childhood. He would surely… “Sylvana, you are the true phoenix!” Valerius, who had always been so cool and reserved, was beaming as he swept her into his arms. “Now, we can finally be together, out in the open!” And I, at that moment, was enduring a pain that consumed my very soul. Sylvana shot me a triumphant smile before personally shoving me into the Chasm of Annihilation. Icy, ethereal winds tore through my body, carving wounds so deep my bones were exposed. But even that pain was nothing compared to the agony in my heart. In the last second before my consciousness faded, I saw a faint golden phoenix light flicker from within the marrow of my bones. Even in death, I could not understand. The pain of my past life was seared into my soul. This time, I would uncover the truth. 2 Just as I had before, I smiled and accepted the Gown of a Hundred Feathers. But as I lowered my head, a chilling light flashed in my eyes. Rosalie had served me for thousands of years. She was also the one who had first found the injured rabbit. I had saved the rabbit’s life, only to die a bitter death at her hands. In my past life, Rosalie must have colluded with Sylvana to bring about my ruin. I suppressed the murderous urge that rose within me and made an excuse to send her away. “I’ve heard that snow lotuses are blooming on the northern peaks. Go and fetch some for me.” Rosalie’s eyes flickered with panic. “Your Highness, your ceremony is tomorrow! How can I leave for the mountains at a time like this…?” My expression turned to ice. A wave of innate spiritual pressure emanated from me, and my gaze pinned her to the spot. “You will do as I command.” Crushed by the sheer force of my bloodline, Rosalie collapsed to her knees, trembling too violently to speak. She could only bow her head to the floor, over and over. With a wave of my hand, a current of golden energy forcibly teleported her away. If not for the memory of her millennia of service, I would have killed her on the spot. But I had no proof yet, and a flicker of uncertainty held my hand. I would have my justice when the truth was revealed. I tossed the gown to the floor and left my chambers. I went to the grand library and searched for hours until I found a text detailing a secret ritual to test one’s bloodline. I didn’t know if Sylvana had already tampered with my blood, but I had to try. Following the ancient method, I summoned a single, crimson-gold phoenix feather to my palm. It was one of the few things my mother had left me, a true feather from her own divine form. A dagger appeared in my other hand. I reversed the grip and plunged it into my chest. I let three drops of blood from my heart fall onto the feather, then set it alight. Within the flames, a crimson-gold light pulsed. As blood and feather burned away, a sweet, fragrant smoke filled the air. The moment the fire died, a shimmering image of a golden phoenix appeared in its place. I stared, and tears streamed down my face. It was true. I was my mother’s daughter. The blood of the phoenix flowed through my veins. After being slandered and slaughtered, I finally had proof. My true form could never be a lowly black serpent. “Lyra? Are you in there?” A knock at the door. It was Valerius. Hatred surged in my heart, but I forced my voice to be soft. “Valerius, could you do something for me?” He was confused but, as always, utterly obedient. He left without even asking why. When he returned, he handed me a tuft of white rabbit fur and a small jade vial containing a few drops of heart’s blood. I thanked him. The cool, reserved prince looked at me with eyes full of tenderness. He raised a hand as if to touch my hair, then pulled back shyly. “Lyra, after your ceremony tomorrow, we can finally be married.” Looking at this man, so seemingly devoted to me, I felt a wave of disorientation. The man who had discarded me like trash in my past life, and the man who loved me so deeply now—which was the real Valerius? My heart was a frozen stone. I mumbled a perfunctory farewell and closed the door. Immediately, I dripped the rabbit’s blood onto another of my mother’s feathers and lit it with a flame. This time, a pure white light flickered in the fire. When it burned out, it left not a sweet fragrance, but a foul stench. And when the flames died and I saw the image within, I gasped. It was also a phoenix. Sylvana… was truly a phoenix. But my mother had only given birth to one daughter. By all rights, I should be the only phoenix in existence. What in the name of the heavens was going on? 3 I walked out, my face grim. I couldn’t make sense of it. My ceremony was imminent. Was I doomed to repeat the tragedy of my past life? I wandered aimlessly until I bumped into someone. “Lyra? You seem distressed. What’s wrong?” I looked up. It was my brother, Kael. He looked at me with deep concern, reaching for my arm. “Are you not feeling well? Tell me, I’ll get you some restorative pills.” He looked so caring, just as he had when we were young. I was just a nascent spirit when our mother perished. Our father, lost in grief, began to wander the realms, leaving Kael to face the pressure of the clan alone. He handled all the clan’s affairs while raising me. The first spell I learned, the first dress I owned—they were all from him. He had poured his entire being into raising me, spoiling me until I was the undisputed princess of the Phoenix Clan. And yet, it was he who had carved out my core. He who had watched me struggle in agony, watched my heart turn to ash. He had taken that bloody core and presented it to Sylvana with a smile. “Only a phoenix with a bloodline as pure as Sylvana’s,” he had said, “is worthy of being my sister.” The memory made my hands tremble. I forced a sweet smile. “Brother, I don’t like that rabbit. Will you kill her for me?”

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The first time my boyfriend came to my house, my parents prepared a feast. Just as we all sat down, his phone rang. “Bro, where did you put my lacy panties? I just got out of the shower and can’t find them.” A girl’s voice, pouting and petulant, echoed from the speaker. “And when are you coming back to blow-dry my hair? If you don’t come back, I’ll just let it drip. You’ll be sorry when I catch a cold!” My parents and I exchanged stunned glances. But my boyfriend, Dylan, ignored their thunderous expressions and stood up to leave. Frantic to salvage our three-year relationship, I reminded him that this dinner was meant to discuss our marriage plans. His response was cold. “Chloe needs me. If you insist on going through with these pointless formalities, then maybe we should just put the wedding on hold.” 1 “Dylan, this is the first time you’re meeting my parents,” I said, tugging at his sleeve, my voice a desperate whisper. My father’s face was already a mask of displeasure. My mother, ever the diplomat, tried to smooth things over. “Perhaps his sister is still young, and with no other adults at home, it’s understandable to be worried.” Dylan seized the excuse. “Thank you, Mrs. Cross. You understand. My sister is just a kid, really. She’s always been very attached to me.” But I didn’t understand. This was a hugely important day for both of us. His behavior in front of my parents was a direct reflection of how much he valued me. Apparently, not as much as his sister’s hair. Less than a minute later, her call came again, her voice now laced with tears. “You’ve been at her place for two hours and sixteen minutes. If you’re not home in fourteen minutes, I’m not eating dinner!” The precision was startling. It sounded less like a sister’s plea and more like a jealous lover’s ultimatum. I stared at Dylan, waiting to see how he would respond. His tone was full of alarm. “You can’t do that, Chloe. You know you have a sensitive stomach.” With that, he rushed towards the door. “Why don’t you bring your sister over to eat with us?” my mother offered, still trying to salvage the evening. After all, Dylan and I had been together for three years; she didn’t want to see it all unravel over a phone call. “You don’t live far.” “Okay!” Dylan yelled back, already halfway to the elevator. All we got was his retreating back. The three of us sat in silence, staring at the cooling food. The pork belly my mother had simmered for two hours sat untouched in Dylan’s bowl, as cold as my heart. “Aria, you have a weak stomach too. Have a few bites first,” my mother said, her eyes full of pity. “Don’t overthink it, Aria,” my father added, trying to comfort me in his own way. “When Dylan gets back, your mother and I will have a serious talk with him. Some men are just immature before they’re married. They grow up eventually.” An hour later, Dylan arrived with his sister, Chloe, in tow. I was intensely curious about this Chloe. The moment I opened the door, my eyes fell on her. A kid? Please. She looked like she was a 240-month-old baby. Chloe marched past my family and surveyed the table. “Ugh, everything is so bland. I like spicy food. Why didn’t you make anything spicy?” Even my good-natured mother’s face hardened. “My daughter can’t handle spicy food,” she replied, her voice clipped. “So picky,” Chloe muttered with a pout, then turned to Dylan with a coquettish air. “Bro, even if she marries you, you have to promise there will always be spicy dishes at every meal.” Dylan gently tapped her nose. “Of course. Besides, your sister-in-law is a great cook.” Excuse me? So cooking was now my designated duty? And we were expected to live with his sister in our new house? I glared at Dylan, demanding an explanation. He seemed completely oblivious to my anger, stroking Chloe’s hair as he spoke to me. “I’ve already promised Chloe the master bedroom in our new place. We can take one of the other rooms with the baby, and the guest room can be for my parents when they visit. You don’t mind, do you?” 2 I’d have to be a saint not to mind. And more importantly, he had never once discussed any of this with me. “Dylan, my family paid for half of that house. Why is it only your family living in it?” I asked, my voice dangerously calm. He was taken aback, stammering guiltily. “What’s mine and yours? Once you marry me, you’re part of my family, aren’t you?” My parents’ brows furrowed in unison. But before they could speak, Chloe stepped in front of Dylan, her voice sharp. “You’re not even married yet and you’re already obsessed with the house! Once you marry my brother, what’s yours is his, and what’s his is mine.” She turned back to Dylan, pouting. “See, bro? I told you she was no good. She’ll never love you as much as I do.” I love you. Was that something a sister says to her brother? Just as I was about to throw the bizarre pair out, Dylan’s parents arrived, looking flustered. They clearly knew what their daughter was capable of. “Future in-laws, please forgive us,” Dylan’s mother said, forcing a smile. “Chloe is still young. Don’t take her seriously.” My parents exchanged a look. What could they do? The other elders were here now. They swallowed their anger and invited the family of four to the table. The moment I sat down, I felt a pair of resentful eyes boring into me. “Move,” Chloe snapped. “Only I can sit next to my brother.” I gave her a sidelong glance and didn’t budge. “Bro, look at her! She’s already giving me attitude before she’s even married into the family!” Chloe whined. “It’s okay, it’s okay. You can sit on my lap,” Dylan said, patting his thighs as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Chloe shot me a triumphant smirk, then wrapped her arms around Dylan’s neck and settled onto his lap. My parents and I stared, dumbfounded. It didn’t end there. Chloe pointed at the plate of steamed shrimp. “Bro, I want shrimp.” Dylan immediately pulled the entire plate in front of him and began to meticulously peel them for her. Watching him pop the peeled shrimp directly into her mouth, a wave of revulsion washed over me. It was only then that I remembered her first phone call, asking him to find her lacy underwear, and the full weight of its strangeness hit me. “What a close relationship they have,” my mother said, her laugh strained. I let out a cold snort. “Yes, so close they could be husband and wife.” I turned to Dylan. “You know, maybe we should just have a blood-brother ceremony instead of a wedding. Watching you with your sister, I finally realize you treat me more like a buddy.” “No, Aria, that’s not it… Chloe, honey, get down for a minute.” Dylan finally sensed my anger. He reached for my hand, but Chloe slapped it away. “Don’t you touch her!” she shrieked, her face a mask of wounded betrayal. Dylan’s mother quickly came over and tried to coax her. “Sweetie, be good. Let your brother comfort your sister-in-law first. There will be plenty of time to comfort you later.” “No!” Chloe clung to Dylan even tighter, resting her head on his shoulder. “My brother promised he would love me the most, forever.” She looked up at him. “Bro, you’ll wash my underwear forever, blow-dry my hair forever, and peel my shrimp forever, right?” 3 Dylan stroked his sister’s hair, his voice dripping with affection. “Of course, I will. I’ll spoil you for the rest of your life.” Then he turned to me, his confidence baffling. “Aria, when you’re my wife, you’ll love my sister too, won’t you?” I was stunned into silence. Love… this girl who acted more like his mistress? My father, his face flushed with anger, slammed his chopsticks on the table. “I’ve lived for decades, and I have never seen a twenty-year-old woman sit on her brother’s lap like that.” “I don’t care how shameless your family is, but to demand my daughter marry into this madness? Never!” “He won’t even let Dylan touch her hand! What kind of marriage would that be? A lifetime of celibacy?” My father’s harsh words finally spurred Dylan’s father into action. He stood up to pull Chloe off Dylan’s lap. “No!” Chloe buried her face in Dylan’s chest and began to sob. “Bro, does getting married mean we have to be separated? It’s their dirty minds that see everything as dirty! Why are they blaming me?” Dylan hugged her protectively, then turned on me. “Aria, you promised me you’d be a good sister-in-law. How can you let your father talk to us like this?” Their performance was so absurd I couldn’t help but laugh. “My God, I had no idea your ‘cute little sister’ was such a shameless creature.” “Aria! What’s that supposed to mean? How could you say that about Chloe?” Dylan’s voice was sharp with anger. “Are you really going to make a scene in front of our parents over such a trivial thing?” I glanced at the four silent parents, their expressions a mixture of embarrassment and anger. They were only here for our sake. I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself, and made one last attempt. “Dylan, it wasn’t easy for us to get to this point,” I said, my voice even. “If we’re serious about getting married, I need you to focus your heart on our family.” “If we didn’t have a house, I wouldn’t say a word. But we do. And I need your sister to stay out of our lives.” My cheeks flushed as I spoke. Thinking back on our three years together, a lump formed in my throat. “No.” His rejection was instant, without a moment’s thought. “Chloe and I are family for life. I won’t change for you.” “If you love me, you should love my family.” “If you don’t like Chloe, then there’s no point in discussing this further. Let’s take a few days to cool off. When you’ve thought it through, we can talk.” His decisiveness brought tears to my eyes. I had been so excited for this day, never imagining it would be the day we broke up. After a few moments of silence, I wiped my tears away, a cold smile forming on my lips. I stood up and opened the front door. “If there’s nothing to talk about, then take your family and get out of my house.” Dylan, seeing my resolve, started to argue. But my mother, her patience finally gone, roared, “Get out! And don’t you ever bother my daughter again!” As they left, they were still muttering indignantly. “What kind of person gets jealous of a man’s own sister?” My father started to go after them, but I stopped him. “Dad, don’t waste any more time on trash.” I thought that would be the end of it. But a few days later, Dylan and Chloe showed up at the high-end matchmaking agency where I worked. “Aria, I’ve found a way to solve our problem.” “Just give my sister the contact information for a few of your VVIP clients. Once she’s living in a mansion and driving a luxury car, she won’t need to cram in with us. Then everyone will be happy.”

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1 Seven years into my mission to win Andrew Hayes’s heart, I carried his child. He’d once vowed to love me for a lifetime. But three years into our marriage, he held our son, his face a mask of pure hatred. “Sweetheart,” he cooed, “how about we get you a new mommy?” A cruel smile spread across my son’s face. “Yes! I hate that woman.” My mission failed. A System I was bound to stripped me of all my feelings, and I vanished. But Andrew found me again, our son in tow, his face etched with desperation. “I was wrong. Please, Caroline, can you come back?” But I couldn’t. I was already married, building a life that had nothing to do with them. — “I hate you! I don’t want you to be my mom!” With a violent shove, a dish of sizzling food crashed, splattering scalding oil on me. My son, Leo, screamed at me, his eyes burning with his father’s hatred. A sharp pain shot up from my wrist. From the living room, Andrew’s voice cut through the air, cold and impatient. “Are you that useless? Can’t even hold a damn plate? It’s pathetic. Even your own son can’t stand you.” He didn’t even look up, a contemptuous smirk on his lips. He never asked if I was hurt. He never helped. He didn’t love me. I had always known that. Today was the final day. If I failed my mission, the System would take away my ability to feel. I trembled as I pushed myself up, only for Leo to shove me back down. “Stupid woman!” Hearing this, Andrew sauntered over, a glint of amusement in his eyes. “Come on, son. We’re not eating this garbage. How about we go find Aunt Selena?” He scooped Leo into his arms, his gaze a flash of chilling indifference toward me. “Yes! Daddy, I love Aunt Selena!” Leo clapped. “Can Selena be my mommy?” A genuine smile broke through Andrew’s cold exterior. “We’ll see, kiddo.” He shot me a look of pure provocation. I forced my lips into a smile that felt more like a grimace. As I watched them walk away, my heart felt as if it were being stitched with a thousand searing needles. The housekeeper, Mrs. Davis, rushed to help me. I just shook my head. The front door clicked shut. In that silence, the System’s voice echoed in my mind. “Host mission failed. All emotional and sensory faculties will now be revoked.” It was a real goodbye. Time to let go. I set a silent alarm on my phone, a secret countdown to my departure. Seven days… I started cleaning the greasy floor, my mind flashing back to when he’d fired the staff. “Only pathetic housewives ask so many questions,” he’d sneered. “You want to be a housewife? Fine. Do the work of one.” He never cared. But it didn’t matter anymore. Soon, I would be gone. I walked to the bay window, watching the rain. My fingers found our family portrait—Leo frowning, Andrew looking down, only me smiling like a fool. A family that hated being a family. Useless. I tore it to pieces and tossed it in the trash. Just then, a black Maybach pulled up. Andrew stepped out, his face handsome and sharp. From his good mood, I knew who would be next. A moment later, a woman with glamorous curls and a stunning black dress emerged. 2 It was Selena. The new mother my son longed for. The woman Andrew had always loved. She held Leo’s hand, his eyes shining with a light I’d never seen. He adored her. Just like his father, he’d stare at her picture for hours. With me, it was always the same refrain: “Just go away! No wonder Dad doesn’t love you.” I looked away. A quiet thought—how happy they look—drifted through my mind, carrying no sting. I knew with liberating clarity: I didn’t love Andrew anymore. And I no longer loved my son. Selena swept in, her eyes meeting mine with the cool confidence of a victor. This was the first time he’d brought a lover into our home. She probably saw it as a final triumph. But she wasn’t my rival anymore. I moved like a hostess, washing fruit and placing it on the coffee table. “Please, help yourself.” Selena’s eyes narrowed. In the past, this would’ve been my cue to run and cry. My composure was suspicious. Andrew grabbed my arm, his voice a low growl. “You’re washing fruit for her? Caroline, are you insane?” So this was love. He thought the fruit I touched was tainted. I looked into his cold eyes and saw a universe with no star for me. “If you don’t like it,” I said evenly, “I can take it away.” His jaw clenched. “Don’t you dare regret this.” His voice dripped with malice. “You like washing fruit so much? Fine. Wash every single piece of fruit in this house. You’re not sleeping until it’s done.” I nodded. “Okay.” I washed the fruit over and over. “Selena can’t eat things too cold,” he’d snap. “Or too hot.” I just nodded. Somehow, I still angered him. He hurled a bowl against the wall, stormed over, and grabbed me by the neck. “Caroline, are you done with this act? Don’t think this little show is getting my attention.” But I wasn’t acting. I no longer loved him. “The fruit… I washed it very carefully,” I blinked up at him. “Don’t you regret this,” he hissed. He let me go and pulled Selena into a devouring kiss, a performance meant to break me. I placed a hand over my chest. The familiar ache was gone. Even when Leo cheered, “Yay! Aunt Selena is going to be my new mommy!” I felt nothing. I had truly let go. A small smile touched my lips. I felt like I was watching the end of a movie. “Congratulations,” I said calmly. Congratulations to them. And to me. 3 Selena stayed the night. Andrew told me if I got on my knees and begged, he’d make her leave. I didn’t. I just shook my head and walked to my room. “Caroline, you said it was fine,” he called after me. “Don’t you dare regret this.” I won’t, I thought. I don’t know how much time passed before the sounds started from the room next door—soft moans, gasps, the rhythm of intimacy. I put in my earbuds. Two more days until I’m free. I was up before dawn, pulling out my things. After all these years, a single suitcase was only half full. Leo ran in. “Why are you packing? Don’t think you can threaten Dad by leaving. He’ll never love you!” Andrew appeared behind him, his face a mask of disdain. “Even a child can see through your little tricks, Caroline. Why keep up the act?” For years, his favorite line was, “Stop pretending.” He hated that I had, in his mind, trapped him into marriage. But it wasn’t me who wanted this. The truth didn’t matter now. This time, I wasn’t pretending. He led Selena out, laughing. As she passed, Selena whispered, “You should know when it’s time to leave.” Her face was alight with triumph. I nodded. It was time to go. Back in my room, I took our wedding photo from the wall and smashed the glass. He’d always hated it. It wasn’t until I saw the photo of him, Selena, and Leo on his nightstand that I understood. He didn’t hate the photo. He just hated me. One by one, I burned everything that reminded me of him—the photo, the journal filled with the love I once felt. Mrs. Davis rushed in, alarmed. “Ma’am, what are you doing? You’ll regret this!” I smiled and shook my head. “They were old. Time for something new.” I would never regret this. 4 By nightfall, only one thing remained to be packed: the divorce papers. Andrew’s mother called. “Caroline, our family has wronged you. If you want to leave, we won’t stop you. If it wasn’t for you back then… Andrew wouldn’t be alive today.” I managed a hollow laugh. “Mrs. Hayes, let’s just let the past be the past.” If not for that incident, I never would have stayed so long. “Consider the kidney a debt repaid.” She had a large sum of money transferred to my account. I stared at the numbers. My youth had been bought and paid for. Andrew didn’t come home for days. I didn’t call. My phone buzzed. It was a photo from Selena in a hotel room, Andrew likely in the shower nearby. I replied to her: Don’t worry. I’ll be leaving soon. You can have your happy ending. Minutes later, Andrew called, his voice edged with panic. “Are you crazy? Why do you always have to play the saint?” I ended the call. The front door burst open. Andrew stood there, pale and panting. He lunged. “You’re alive, so why didn’t you answer your damn phone?” He grabbed my chin. “I… I didn’t want to bother you…” I stammered. “Bother me?” he spat. “Right, the silent treatment. God, Caroline, you’re such a good actress.” He slammed me against the kitchen door, then threw me onto the sofa. The impact nearly knocked the wind out of me. He pinned me down, his mouth crashing onto mine in a punishing assault. “This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” he hissed, his voice raw. “Fine. I’ll give it to you.” Fear coiled in my stomach. I whimpered his name. He just laughed coldly. His phone rang—a jarring intrusion. He swiped it away without looking. “Still playing the innocent virgin, are you?” I endured the pain and humiliation. I was a puppet in his angry hands, my tears swallowed by the silent night. An overwhelming shame washed over me. So this is what he thought of me. Of course. He had always looked down on me. 5 When I woke up, the sun was high. He was stepping out of the bathroom, a towel on his hips, his upper body bare. The sunlight caught the lines of his sculpted muscles. For a second, I was transported back to the early days of our love. A sharp pain brought me back to reality. “Still not done with the act?” he sneered, tossing a bottle of painkillers onto the bed. “I’m leaving. Don’t call me.” I knew Selena had been calling last night. Twenty missed calls. I struggled to stand and stumbled. For a moment, I thought I saw him reach out to steady me. But his hand never touched me. Instead, he casually plucked his belt from the sofa. “Is that all you’ve got?” My clothes were scattered everywhere. His were neatly folded on a chair. I didn’t speak, just slowly picked up my clothes and clumsily pulled them on. He paused at the door. “What are you doing with that suitcase?” There was a flicker of something in his eyes—alarm?—but it vanished. He couldn’t care if I left. “Nothing,” I said. “Just old junk I’m throwing out.” He seemed to relax. “If you’d been this obedient from the start, I might have been nicer to you.” The door slammed shut. Don’t worry, Andrew, I thought. I’ll be quiet soon. So quiet I’ll disappear from your life, just like you’ve always wanted. The day of my departure crept closer. I had to visit the Hayes estate one last time to hand over Leo’s school documents. I took a taxi to the South Hills Manor estates.

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My sister weighed three hundred pounds, and after she lost the weight, she weighed five pounds, box and all. My three-hundred-pound sister found a weight-loss camp online. They guaranteed they could turn her into a goddess in one month. I discovered the camp was an unlicensed, fly-by-night operation. After I pleaded with her, my sister finally gave up the idea. A month later, all the girls who went to the camp had transformed into slender beauties. The camp announced it was closing its doors. My sister had a complete breakdown. She blamed me for sabotaging her journey to beauty. She soaked all my clothes in industrial-grade pesticide. I died of multiple organ failure. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day my sister wanted to go to the weight-loss camp. 1. I opened my eyes to see my sister, Naomie, sprawled on the couch. She had a chicken leg in one hand and was scrolling through her phone with the other. The rolls of fat on her stomach jiggled with every laugh. “Mom! Mom! Come look, there’s a fitness boot camp here!” she shrieked. “They guarantee they can make me gorgeous in just one month!” My mom emerged from the kitchen with a plate of cupcakes and set them in front of Naomie. “Oh, sweetie, you’re not even fat. Why would you want to put yourself through all that trouble?” Naomie’s face fell. She started yelling at my mom, screaming that she didn’t understand anything, that all she ever did was cook for her, which was why she’d ended up like this. She wailed that because of her weight, the guy she had a crush on had been stolen from her. The camp cost ten thousand dollars for a one-month program. They only accepted women over two hundred pounds and offered a full refund if they didn’t lose weight. Naomie wrapped her arms around my mom, whining and pleading. She argued that even if she didn’t lose weight, there was no financial risk. My mom hesitated, then looked at me. “Raina, what do you think?” I snapped back to reality. In my previous life, my mom had asked me the same question. I’d grabbed my phone and looked up the boot camp Naomie had found. It was a brand-new company with no credentials, no online presence to speak of. Their announcement stated it was a one-time, one-month program. After that, they would suspend operations indefinitely. I knew immediately it was a scam. A classic cash-grab. How could they guarantee someone over two hundred pounds would get thin in a month? Naomie was pushing three hundred. She could barely walk a few steps without needing to rest. I told my mom all of this, urging them not to choose this company. If Naomie really wanted to lose weight, I would find her a legitimate, reputable program. They had reluctantly agreed. I found a top-rated camp for her, but Naomie lasted less than two weeks before complaining about how tired she was and coming home. A month later, the first camp released a video. The girls who had signed up, all over two hundred pounds, had been transformed into stunning beauties. They glowed with health, their cheeks rosy and full of life. The camp simultaneously announced the success of their program and that they were closing their doors, with no date set for reopening. My sister went ballistic. Her hatred for me became absolute. She was convinced I was the sole reason she’d missed her chance. One day, while I was out, she bought a bottle of industrial pesticide and soaked all of my clothes in it. I died in agony from multiple organ failure. And my parents, to protect Naomie, told everyone I had mistaken the pesticide for laundry detergent. They wept, clutching a photo of me at my funeral. “Raina, honey, we’ve already lost you. We can’t lose Naomie too.” “A big sister should always forgive her little sister. She knows she was wrong now. You’d forgive her, right?” “Besides, you can’t blame her entirely. If you had just let her go to that camp in the first place, none of this would have happened.” I pushed the thoughts away, hiding the hatred in my eyes behind a smile. “Naomie wants to lose weight,” I said brightly. “That’s a great thing.” 2. My mom blinked, then asked again, “Raina, you don’t think there’s anything wrong with this boot camp?” I tilted my head, feigning curiosity. “Mom, do you think there’s something wrong with it?” She wiped her hands on her apron and stood up with a smile. “What do I know about these things? You’re the one who went to college. You must know better than me.” The moment the words left her mouth, her face changed. She wrung her apron anxiously. Naomie’s face crumpled, the fat on her body quivering with rage. “Mom! What is that supposed to mean?! You’re looking down on me, aren’t you?! What’s so great about going to college?” “So she’s the college expert, and I don’t know anything, is that it?!” Two fat tears squeezed out of her tiny, puffy eyes. Sobbing, Naomie struggled off the couch and stormed into her room. The floorboards shook with each step. “College” was a forbidden word in our house. Ever since her crush was “stolen,” Naomie had lost all interest in school. She failed her college entrance exams and refused to retake them. Now, she just lay around at home, waiting for my mom to feed her. Naomie believed that if she were thin, there was nothing she couldn’t do. She was convinced that even Ivy League schools would be begging for her to attend. My mom shot me a disapproving look and clicked her tongue. “Why did you have to provoke your sister? She’s already so insecure, and you say something like that?” “And there’s no need for that boot camp anyway,” she continued. “You know how she is. She’ll be back in two or three days.” “You can tell her that at dinner.” She wiped her hands and went back to the kitchen. I watched her go, a cold smile on my face. My mom was always like this. She was afraid of Naomie’s anger, so she always pushed me to be the messenger, the one to break the bad news. The moment Naomie got upset, my mom would swoop in to play the peacemaker, throwing all the blame onto me. That’s why Naomie had always hated me. She was convinced I was deliberately trying to sabotage her. At lunch, Naomie brought up the boot camp again. “Mom, Dad, the deadline to sign up is the day after tomorrow!” she whined. “Hurry up and give me the money! Don’t you want me to get thin?!” My dad kept his head down, silent. My mom was frantically winking and making faces at me. I shoveled a few mouthfuls of rice into my mouth. “Mom, is there something wrong with your eye?” Before my mom could scold me, Naomie’s glare shot toward me like a dagger. My mom carefully chose her words. “Don’t rush, sweetie. We’ll have your sister look up the camp online later.” “It’s not that I don’t want to spend the money, it’s just… I trust your sister’s judgment more.” I quickly refused. “Mom, I don’t know anything about this stuff. If Naomie wants to go, just let her. It could be fun, right, Naomie?” 3. After lunch, my mom dragged me into my room. She demanded to know what I was playing at. I was about to ignore her, but then I saw a fleshy bulge in the crack of the doorway. Naomie was hiding, listening. “What’s wrong, Mom? If you don’t want Naomie to go, you can tell her yourself,” I said innocently. “I think it’s great that she’s motivated. Even if it’s just for fun, what’s the harm? They’ll refund the money anyway.” “So why won’t you let her go?” My mom’s temper flared. She slammed her hand on the table. “Don’t you get it? What kind of willpower does your sister have? Ten thousand dollars for a month, down the drain!” “Fun? A thousand, maybe. But ten thousand?! Are you going to pay for it?!” I pretended to hesitate. “If I had the money, I’d help her out. But I just started working, where am I going to get ten thousand dollars?” Bang. Naomie threw the door open, standing in the doorway, panting for breath. Her eyes were bloodshot, her teeth clenched. “So that’s it! You just don’t want to spend the money! You don’t want me to go!” “I’m so fat now, I might as well just die! I’ll go kill myself! Then you can save your precious money!” she howled, then thundered out of the apartment. My mom shot me a look of pure hatred. “Look what you’ve done.” “Naomie, sweetie, let me explain!” Naomie ran downstairs and collapsed onto the community lawn, wailing. Snot and tears smeared all over her clothes. This was her usual tactic. Whenever she didn’t get her way, she’d go downstairs and cry to the neighborhood gossips. And just like that, every busybody in the complex knew my mom was too cheap to spend ten thousand dollars on her daughter’s weight loss. I bought a soda and watched the show from a distance, thoroughly entertained. The neighborhood ladies surrounded my mom, clucking their tongues and lecturing her. “You really need to pay more attention to your child’s health. Look at little Naomie, she’s so big.” “It’s ten thousand now. If she needs surgery later, who knows how much it’ll cost.” “Exactly. And how is she supposed to find a boyfriend like this? It’s not like you’re short on money. Just let the girl have some fun.” At the mention of not finding a boyfriend, Naomie’s wails grew even louder. “My mom just doesn’t want me to get married! If I were thin, I could have any man I want!” The rolls of fat on her body shook with each sob. It was a ridiculous sight. My mom’s face cycled through shades of red and green. She tried to explain, but she was no match for the gossips. She was thoroughly shamed. She wanted to drag Naomie home to talk, but Naomie refused to move. Defeated, my mom had to give in. Right there, in front of everyone, she transferred the deposit through the website. Only then did Naomie wipe her tears and follow her home. My mom slammed her bedroom door and didn’t come out. Naomie couldn’t have cared less. She was happily browsing online for pretty dresses, already planning where she would go on a date with her dream guy in a month. 4. The next day, the boot camp called and said they needed to register in person. My mom took Naomie first thing in the morning. And she made me come along, to “see if there was anything fishy.” I had to laugh. Even if there was, I wouldn’t say a word. I had no intention of dying a slow, agonizing death in a hospital bed again. That kind of pain was seared into my brain, unforgettable. At the entrance to the camp, we were greeted by several muscular, handsome men. Naomie’s eyes were glued to them. She practically dragged my mom forward, sweating profusely after just a few steps. The director saw Naomie’s size and his eyes lit up. He rushed over as if he’d found a treasure. “This must be your daughter! Come, come, fill out the registration form.” I glanced at the form. It asked for the basics—name, age, ID number—but also for blood type and even date and time of birth. My mom looked confused. Why would a weight-loss camp need all that? The director explained it was part of their new, high-tech approach. Every program was custom-tailored. My mom looked at me. “Raina, you went to college. What do you think?” I shrugged. “I have no idea. Why don’t you call someone and ask?” Naomie was getting antsy. She scribbled down the information on the form. “Mom!” she yelled. “You promised! You can’t go back on your word!” There was also a confidentiality agreement and a refund policy. A full refund was guaranteed if she didn’t lose at least one hundred pounds in a month. Naomie didn’t even read it before signing her name. The director showered Naomie with compliments. He said her features were exquisite, her proportions perfect, her legs long. She would be a true beauty once she lost the weight. He didn’t stop there. He even took a jab at me. “This is your sister, right? I’m a brutally honest person, so please don’t be offended.” “Once you lose the weight, you’ll be much more beautiful than your sister.” “You’ll be the campus queen! Even A-list celebrities won’t compare. Men will be lining up, willing to pay a fortune just to meet you.” Naomie was floating on cloud nine. She shot me a triumphant, smug look. After all that flattery, there was no way my mom was going to make that phone call. Naomie cornered her, demanding she pay the full fee right then and there, threatening to jump off the building if she didn’t. After the payment was made, the director told her to pick a trainer. It turned out the handsome men at the door were all trainers. Naomie was spoiled for choice. She pouted and batted her eyelashes at the director. “It’s so hard to choose! I can’t decide. Can I have two?” The director’s smile twitched, but he was a professional. His expression remained perfectly composed. He made an “exception” and let Naomie have two trainers. As we were leaving, I deliberately lingered for a moment. I noticed the director was saying the exact same thing to every single person who signed up. 5. My mom was so angry when we got home that she refused to eat lunch. Naomie, of course, didn’t care. She hummed a tune as she packed her things. They were moving into the camp for a month. That afternoon, my mom was still fuming and sent me to take Naomie to the camp. When we got there, a few of the trainers started taking Naomie’s measurements. The director pulled me aside, going on and on about how great their program was. I was bored until I saw some live-streaming equipment inside. “What’s this?” The director gave me a mysterious smile and just told me to follow their social media account. He said their training would start tonight. When I got home that evening, my mom was looking at a picture of Naomie and wiping away tears. “My sweet Naomie is so pampered. Will she be able to manage without us? Will she miss her mommy?” I rolled my eyes. “If you miss her so much, why don’t you just go live with her at the camp?” Her eyes lit up, and she actually pulled out her phone. The call was answered by a stream of curses from Naomie. I went back to my room and opened the social media app. The account was already live. Naomie and the other girls were lined up. Above their heads were gift icons. A caption explained that whoever got the most votes would get to start their weight-loss journey first. The stream didn’t have many viewers, but there was a steady flow of votes. Naomie was the biggest, so she had the most votes. When the voting ended, Naomie was the winner. She started her live-streamed workout. I watched for a bit. It was no different from any other fitness stream. Just dancing and exercise. After only five minutes, Naomie was drenched in sweat, panting heavily. She cried out that she needed a break. They were surprisingly humane. They let Naomie rest and brought another girl up to do aerobics. I wondered, how could anyone lose two hundred pounds in a month like this? It was just a normal workout. It was impossible. Five minutes later, Naomie was back on camera. She didn’t say a word. She just diligently danced for half an hour. Even when she was dripping with sweat and so tired she could barely lift her arms, she didn’t ask for a break. This wasn’t Naomie’s style. Maybe they had threatened her, or promised her some incredible reward. But what did that have to do with me? She had brought this on herself. I watched the stream for two days but didn’t see anything else out of the ordinary. It was boring. There was one strange thing, though. The viewers who were sending gifts seemed to be the same few people every time. A week later, I opened the stream again. My eyes widened in disbelief. Was that really my three-hundred-pound sister? She had lost eighty pounds!

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1 In my past life, when I got into Yale, my grandfather gave me a priceless locket engraved with our family crest, a piece worth millions. I never once dared to wear it. But the scholarship student my family sponsored stole it from me. When I confronted her, she stared at me with wide, innocent eyes. “Was it really that expensive? It looked like a cheap trinket from the dollar store. You never even wore it, so I just gave it to a homeless man on the street.” I was furious and threatened to call the police, but I was stopped. Dorien, my childhood best friend who had sworn to protect me forever, called me a spoiled brat for bullying someone less fortunate. My own brother, who had always doted on me, said my arrogance and selfishness made me unworthy of being his sister. To appease the scholarship girl, they forced me into a car and sent me deep into the rural backwoods to “experience poverty.” There, her grandmother tried to break me, to marry me off to her slovenly, cruel grandson. When I fought back with everything I had, she fed me a bowl of soup laced with rat poison. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day she stole my locket. “I’m so sorry, Avery. I had no idea your locket was so valuable. I really thought it was just a costume piece from the dollar store, so I gave it to a homeless man I saw on the street.” The sound of that voice, so familiar it made me sick to my stomach, hit me like a physical blow. I stared at her, my eyes wide with the horrifying realization. I had been reborn. The girl in front of me, looking so fragile and small, was Sarah, the student my mother had sponsored for years. Right now, she was nestled pitifully in Dorien’s arms, her voice trembling with manufactured distress. “What do I do, Dorien? Avery is so upset with me. It’s all my fault, I’m so sorry…” she sobbed. Dorien’s face softened with adoration. He hugged her tighter. “It’s okay, Sarah. It’s not a big deal. It was just a locket. What’s given is given.” A cold laugh escaped my lips. A family heirloom worth millions. Was it really theirs to just give away? Hearing me, Dorien’s face hardened, and he pointed an accusatory finger at me. “Avery, what’s so funny? Why can’t you be more like Sarah, so kind and generous? You just kept that locket locked away in your room like a decoration. It’s better off being given to someone who needs a little joy!” I remembered my last life. I had argued, pleaded, explained that it was a birthday gift from my grandfather. But Dorien hadn’t helped me. He had sided with Sarah, berating me for my selfishness. “Dorien, what right do you have to take my things? And taking without asking is stealing! I could have you both arrested!” I shot back, the words tasting like ash. Hearing the word “arrested,” Sarah panicked, clinging to Dorien and bursting into a fresh storm of tears. “I’m so, so sorry! I really didn’t know it was worth so much! I just saw that poor man, and he looked so miserable. I thought… I thought giving him a gift might cheer him up, you know? I was just trying to help someone. Why is Avery so angry with me for trying to do a good deed, Dorien?” Her words ignited Dorien’s righteous indignation. He turned on me, his voice sharp with condemnation. “Avery, don’t you dare go too far! Sarah was being charitable, and you’re attacking her for it! Besides, if it was so precious, why didn’t you keep it locked up in a safe? When you think about it, this is really your fault!” I was speechless. Even if I hadn’t kept it in a bank vault, was that an excuse for her to steal it? I remembered how, in my last life, I had run to my brother, Miles, hoping for support. But he hadn’t helped me either. He had defended Sarah. “Avery, I’ve spoiled you rotten. How did you become so petty and materialistic? Why can’t you be more like Sarah and give me some peace of mind?” Later, when I refused to apologize, my brother had personally driven me to Sarah’s family home. “You need to have your attitude adjusted,” he’d said coldly. “Go see what Sarah’s life was like. Maybe then you’ll develop some empathy.” And just like that, I was abandoned in the middle of nowhere. Sarah’s family included a grandmother who was clearly unhinged. Surrounded by dense forest and mountains, there was no escape. I was forced to do back-breaking farm work from dawn till dusk and endure the grandmother’s constant abuse. Finally, she put rat poison in my food and killed me. After my death, my murderer was never caught. Instead, my brother officially adopted Sarah as his god-sister. He moved her entire family into the city. They took my place, living a life of luxury that should have been mine. 2. Knowing my brother would be no help, I called my mother. But when she heard the story, she just sighed and chided me for being immature. “Avery, what have I taught you? Don’t use your status to bully people. I know Sarah. She’s a kind, considerate girl. She would never do something like that.” She paused, her disappointment palpable even over the phone. “I wish you were as sensible as your brother.” I stood there, phone in hand, stunned by her response. She was siding with a stranger over her own daughter. I hung up, my hands shaking with rage, and immediately dialed my grandfather. When he heard what had happened, his voice boomed with fury. “And I thought he was a decent young man! I was even considering him for you! How dare he treat you this way!” His tone softened. “Avery, I’m sending the car for you right now. You’ll come and stay with me for a while. And don’t you worry, this business with the locket is far from over.” Hearing his voice, a sense of calm finally settled over me. The butler arrived quickly. But no sooner had I stepped into my grandfather’s house than my brother, Miles, showed up. “Avery, is this how I raised you? What kind of person picks on those weaker than them? I’ve spoiled you, that’s the problem. It just so happens that Sarah’s family is in the middle of their harvest season. I’m sending you to her home in a couple of days. It’s time you learned how hard life can be!” Hearing the exact same words from my past life, I blinked slowly. “It’s not that I don’t want to go, Miles,” I said sweetly. “It’s just that Grandpa missed me. My hands are tied.” My brother’s face contorted with anger. “Avery, how can you be so selfish! Sarah has so little, yet she works so hard. Why are you so lazy?” “She looks up to you as a sister! What’s wrong with helping her out a little?” I snorted internally. Sister? I didn’t have a sister. Sarah’s parents had four daughters before finally having a son. Her family was pathologically obsessed with having a male heir. Her three older sisters had been married off for a bride price the moment they graduated high school to support their younger brother. Sarah was latching onto my family to avoid the same fate. Her plan was to get my brother to send me to her home, where she hoped I would be forced to marry her brother. In my past life, my refusal to do so was what led to my murder. I looked at my brother with cold eyes and stepped behind my grandfather, who had just come downstairs. “Miles, if you have something to say, you can say it to Grandpa.” My brother feared my grandfather more than anyone. At my words, he shot me a glare but fell silent. I went upstairs and watched from the balcony as Dorien and Sarah waited below. Dorien was comforting her, and in a moment of passion, he pulled her into a hug, promising he would always have her back. Sarah, crying prettily in his arms, whimpered, “Dorien, what if Avery is so angry she stops sponsoring my education? I just want to go to school… maybe I should get on my knees and beg for her forgiveness?” Dorien’s face darkened. “Kneel for what? Don’t worry. Not only am I going to teach her a lesson, I’m going to make her give you her spot on the university’s new research project.” The research project Dorien mentioned was a prestigious fellowship I had just been accepted into. It was a huge opportunity, something that would be a cornerstone of my resume. Sarah wanted in on it, too. Hearing Dorien’s promise, her face lit up. “Really, Dorien? Oh, I love you so much.” She stood on her toes and kissed him. I raised my phone and took a picture. Flushed from the kiss, Dorien immediately called me. “Avery, I’m willing to overlook how you’ve been bullying Sarah. Give her your spot on the research team, and I’ll forgive you. Otherwise, I never want to see you again. Got it?” I don’t know if I got it. I just knew he sounded like a complete and utter idiot. So, I followed my heart and told him so. “Fine!” he sputtered, so angry I thought he’d smash his phone. “You just wait!” 3. The next day was the university’s annual autumn gala. It was a major event, and all the school’s top administrators and donors were in attendance. Halfway through the program, Dorien pulled Sarah onto the stage. He held the teary-eyed, trembling Sarah protectively in his arms and spoke into the microphone. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but I’m here tonight because I have to expose a disgusting truth.” “Avery Thorne, a senior in the pre-med program, is not who she seems. She has a history of academic dishonesty, forcing my friend, Sarah, to help her cheat on multiple major exams. The spot she secured on the new research fellowship was also obtained through fraudulent means. I hope she will do the right thing and return this opportunity to the person who truly deserves it.” After his speech, Sarah began to sob. “I’m so sorry, everyone. I didn’t want to cover for a cheater, but Avery threatened me. She said if I didn’t help her, her family would cut off my scholarship. I just want to finish my education.” “It took all my courage to stand up here tonight… I’m so, so sorry.” Her words sent a shockwave through the audience. Murmurs erupted from the crowd. “No way. I’m in her class. I always thought she was so hardworking. I can’t believe she’s that kind of person.” “That’s disgusting. Cheating your way into a research fellowship?” “Someone like that has no right to be on the team.” “Hold on, let’s not jump to conclusions. What if it’s not true?” “How could it not be true? Look at how heartbroken Sarah is!” “Wait, wasn’t Dorien best friends with Avery? For him to turn on her like this… wow, rich people drama.” Opinions were flying, but a significant portion of the crowd remained skeptical. But then, my brother, Miles, suddenly appeared on stage. “I’m Avery’s older brother,” he announced, his voice heavy with disappointment. “Our father passed away when we were young, and I’m afraid I’ve failed in raising her properly. I want to apologize to all of you for the mistakes my sister has made. Rest assured, she will be returning the spot on the research team to its rightful owner.” The moment my brother finished speaking, the auditorium exploded.

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Three in the morning, and I was shivering in a police station. The officer across from me tapped his pen on the desk. “You’re a college student. So tell me again why you believe a food truck’s secret sauce is being made with… fluid from a corpse?” I stared at the cold steel of the handcuffs, catching the lingering scent of decay trapped under my fingernails. It was, without a doubt, the smell of death. The smell a human body weeps after it’s gone. 1 My family ran the oldest funeral home in the state since 1892. Grandfather used to say corpses develop two extra mouths—one for decay to enter, one for stench to escape. I grew up in the quiet halls of a funeral home, a childhood scented with formaldehyde and decomposing tissue. I’ve seen more of the dead than I have of the living. I grew up Even my last medical report noted it: Olfactory sensitivity, preternaturally acute. So, when my roommate, Lucy, shoved a carton of loaded fries under my nose, drenched in their famous, pungent sauce, I threw up on the spot. “Seriously, Mia?” she said, stabbing a sauce-laden fry and popping it into her mouth with a look of pure bliss. “This is from that viral spot in the food truck alley by campus. I waited two hours for this.” I wiped my mouth, silent. The smell was indescribable. It was like rotting fish gills scraped with a rusty scalpel. Identical to the drowning victim I’d prepared just last month. 2 To figure this out, I went with Lucy to the fries truck. A long line snaked from the front of the truck. I muttered, “Is it really that good?” Lucy was unfazed. “Told you. It’s an internet sensation.” Well, I was already here. I trudged to the back of the line, resigning myself to the wait. The owner worked fast, though, and we were at the front in just over an hour. As we got closer, the putrid smell of the sauce hit me like a wave. My stomach clenched, and a sour taste rose in my throat. Lucy, oblivious, grabbed my arm excitedly. “You have to try it this time.” I didn’t refuse, just gave a weak nod. 3 Fighting back my nausea, I studied the stall. It was a small, grimy food truck, its metal siding dented and dull. The owner was a middle-aged man with a perpetually simple, honest-looking smile. He worked with an expert rhythm, scooping golden fries into cartons and ladling on the thick, dark sauce, his movements almost unnaturally efficient. I decided to probe. “Hey, what’s in this sauce? It’s so… pungent.” The owner didn’t even look up, his hands a blur of mechanical motion. “Family secret. Passed down through generations.” I watched his face, trying to read something, anything, in his expression. But he kept his head down, busily adding toppings over the sauce. 4 “Business is booming,” I said, trying to sound casual. “Ever think about hiring some help?” A place this popular could easily afford another pair of hands. This time, he glanced up at me. “I manage just fine on my own. Can’t afford to hire anyone.” Lucy chimed in. “What about your wife? Or kids? Can’t they lend a hand?” The owner’s smile tightened slightly as he handed Lucy her order. “Here you go. Next!” The conversation was over. The person behind us was getting restless. “Hey, if you’re done, move it.” Lucy mumbled an apology over her shoulder and pulled me away by my sleeve. 5 We found an empty bench nearby. Lucy eagerly held a fry, dripping with sauce, to my lips. “Go on, try it. It’s best when it’s hot.” I grimaced but leaned in, taking a careful sniff. That familiar, unidentifiable stench instantly flooded my senses. This was absolutely not a normal food smell. Fermented or aged sauces could be pungent, yes, but they smelled of yeast, chili, or soy—of things that were meant to be eaten. But this… this was tainted with a faint but undeniable metallic foulness. It was closer to what I smelled at work every day. The smell of a corpse. 6 I instinctively covered my nose. “Don’t eat that,” I said, my voice sharp. Lucy just laughed, completely missing my tone. “Smells strong, tastes amazing. That’s the whole point.” “You and your super-sniffer nose,” she teased. “You just can’t handle intense flavors.” “No,” I said, pulling her closer. “It doesn’t smell strong. It smells like a corpse.” “Like crap?!” Lucy exclaimed, a little too loudly. Her voice, while not a shout, turned the heads of the people at the next table. The owner, who happened to be clearing a nearby trash can, shot us a cold, irritated look. “Watch your mouth, young lady.” Lucy, realizing what she’d said, clapped a hand over her mouth, her wide eyes pleading with me for help. I gave her a subtle shake of my head and whispered, “Let’s go. Back to the dorm. Now.” 7 I dragged Lucy away, grabbing the two half-eaten cartons as we left. She clung to my arm, her voice a nervous whisper. “You were serious, weren’t you? About the… you know.” Lucy knew my sense of smell was no joke. The possibility that she’d been eating something so vile was starting to sink in, and she was terrified. “We’ll talk in the dorm,” I said, my voice low. It wasn’t the place for this conversation. Even after we passed through the campus gates, I could feel a pair of hot, angry eyes burning into my back. Back in our room, Lucy opened one of the cartons and started eating again. “What are you doing?” I demanded, exasperated. “How can you still eat that?” Most people, upon hearing the word “corpse,” would have thrown the food into the nearest biohazard bin. 8 Lucy shrugged, her nonchalance forced. “I thought about it. A little dirt never hurt anyone, right? So what if it smells like crap?” “Besides,” she added, stabbing another fry, “look how many people eat it. It’s not just me.” She popped it into her mouth, the dark sauce smearing the corner of her lips. I recoiled, putting more distance between us. “Did you mishear me?” I asked. She chewed thoughtfully. “Didn’t you say it smelled like crap?” I pressed my lips together, fighting for patience. “I said it smells like a corpse.” Lucy’s chewing stopped. The food was stuck in her mouth, unable to be swallowed, unwilling to be spit out. She thought for a moment, her words muffled. “Which word did you say?” I answered calmly. “The kind with a ‘p’.” 9 This time, she lost it. She scrambled for the trash can and retched violently. “Mia, are you serious? Or are you just messing with me?” I looked at her with pity and shook my head. “I wish I were, Lucy. But it’s true.” Her face went ashen. She stuck two fingers down her throat, trying to force out every last trace. When she was finally done, her stomach empty, she looked up at me, her eyes red and tear-filled. “How… how can you be so sure?” she asked weakly. I had never told anyone that my family worked with the dead. It’s a taboo subject for most people. After a moment of silence, I decided to tell her a modified truth. “I have relatives who work at a morgue. The smell is exactly the same as the one in the holding rooms.” Her face twisted in a mask of agony. Whether she fully believed me or not, the seed of doubt was enough. “Oh god,” she wailed. “What about all the times I ate it before?” I patted her shoulder, offering what little comfort I could. “Don’t worry. All that is long gone, flushed down the sewer.” 10 Even though I was certain something was deeply wrong with that truck, I had no actual proof to report. The business continued to be a massive hit. Then, one day, as I was walking past the food truck alley, I saw a familiar figure in the line. At first, I didn’t believe it. But when she turned, I saw her face clearly. “Lucy?” She jumped, spinning around to face me, her mouth smeared with the dark, distinctive sauce. She looked down at the carton in her hand, then back at me, a deer caught in the headlights. “Mia,” she stammered. “What are you doing here?” A hot surge of anger went through me. I strode over, snatched the carton from her hands, tossed it into a nearby trash can, and dragged her back to the dorm. “You promised you’d never eat that stuff again!” 11 Lucy’s eyes welled up with tears. “I’m sorry, Mia, but I can’t help it. Nothing else tastes right anymore.” Tears streamed down her face, and her expression was one of genuine despair, not just guilt. I’d heard stories of certain substances being addictive. Could this sauce have a similar effect? This was bad. I looked at her, my voice firm but concerned. “Okay. From now on, I’m watching you. You are absolutely forbidden from going near that place again.” Lucy knew I was trying to help, so she reluctantly agreed. But after that, her appetite plummeted. She started losing weight at an alarming rate, and it was the unhealthy kind of thin. Her skin was sallow, with dark, bruised-looking circles under her eyes, and her lips were perpetually pale. She walked like she was wading through water, utterly drained of energy. 12 Finally, after two weeks of this, Lucy broke. “Please, Mia,” she sobbed, clutching my arm. “Just let me have some. Just one bite.” I turned away, unable to look at her. “No.” Her state was a clear sign of addiction, and this was the withdrawal period. If she could just push through it, she could beat it. Giving in now would mean starting all over again. I gently patted her back. “Just hold on a little longer, Lucy,” I said softly. “It’ll get better soon.” Lucy knew I wouldn’t budge. She gave a weak, defeated nod, too exhausted to argue anymore. 13 A month later, it all fell apart. It was 8:50 AM, and Lucy hadn’t gotten out of bed. We had a major lecture in ten minutes. I knocked on the frame of her bunk bed. “Lucy? You still not up?” She was on the top bunk, so I couldn’t see her clearly. I stood on my toes, but all I could make out was the back of her head. She was curled into a tight ball, completely unresponsive. This was strange. Today was a core class for her major; she never missed it. Was she sick? A knot of dread tightened in my stomach. I scrambled up the ladder. 14 I gently shook her shoulder. Her brow was furrowed, her cheeks flushed an unnatural, feverish red, and her breath came out in hot puffs. Oh no, I thought. She’s burning up. I decided to get her to the campus clinic and pulled back her duvet. The moment the blanket came off, I gasped. Lucy’s neck and arms were covered in angry, pus-filled sores. They looked like they were about to burst. I didn’t dare touch her. My only option was to call for an ambulance. As her roommate, I rode with her to the hospital. In the ambulance, I overheard one of the paramedics mutter, “Not this university again.” Just as I was about to ask what she meant, the other paramedic shot her a sharp look, silencing her. 15 The hospital was in chaos. Apparently, a large number of students from our university had been admitted with the exact same symptoms. The situation was so severe it had even drawn the attention of the police. An officer glanced at Lucy, who was now lying in a hospital bed, and gestured for me to follow him into the hallway. The corridor was a whirlwind of activity, doctors and nurses rushing back and forth. “Has your roommate been acting strangely lately?” the officer asked. I shook my head. “Nothing out of the ordinary.” “Think carefully. Has she eaten anything unusual? Injected anything?” I froze, looking at him in disbelief. They suspected Lucy was… a drug user? 16 “Impossible,” I said, my tone firm. “But she might have eaten something bad.” The officer, who had looked bored and tired, suddenly straightened up. “Oh? Eaten something bad?” “Yes.” I told him everything I knew about the fries truck and its secret sauce. The officer’s hand, holding the pen, paused. “Do you have any proof?” I fell silent. I didn’t. A smell, a subjective experience, wasn’t evidence. “No.” “Without proof, it’s just speculation. We can’t get a warrant based on that.” Seeing that he wasn’t going to get any more useful information from me, the officer looked disappointed. “Alright, you can go for now. We’ll be in touch if we have any more questions.” 17 I glanced back at Lucy, an IV drip attached to her arm. I had no choice but to nod and leave. Back at the dorm, I couldn’t sleep. I tossed and turned, a sense of unease gnawing at me. So many students from our school were in the hospital, yet it hadn’t affected the fries truck’s business one bit. Over the next few days, I spent all my free time at the coffee shop across the street from the food truck, watching. I started to learn the owner’s routine. Every morning at 7 AM, he would arrive in a silver cargo van and park in the small alley behind the truck. He’d unload several large, heavy sacks of ingredients and carry them inside. For the next two hours, he’d prep in the back. At 10 AM sharp, he’d open for business. He wouldn’t close up until around 11 PM, when he would start cleaning. 18 I watched for days but saw nothing out of the ordinary. Then, on the fifth night, I finally saw something. The coffee shop was about to close, and I was leaving, feeling dejected, when I saw the owner acting strangely. He peeked his head out from the back of the truck, scanning the alley nervously. When he was sure no one was around, he carried two large, dark bags to his van. The bags looked wet, glistening slickly in the moonlight. A cold dread washed over me. The image was sickeningly familiar, reminding me of the body fluid that sometimes seeped from the bags at the funeral home. He loaded the bags into his van and drove off. This was my chance. I couldn’t let it slip away. I waited until the coast was clear and slipped into the unlocked food truck. 19 I cautiously pushed aside the curtain to the back kitchen area, and after confirming it was empty, I stepped inside. Compared to the front counter, the kitchen was a sanitary nightmare. The floor was wet and sticky, and the damp walls were breeding grounds for black mold. A faucet dripped incessantly into a sink stained with the dark sauce. I wrinkled my nose in disgust. I looked around the small kitchen. Besides the filth, there was nothing obviously amiss. But wait. I tilted my head back and took a deep breath. There it was again—a faint but definite smell of rot. I followed the scent, moving slowly through the cramped space. My eyes landed on the side of a large metal cabinet. There, almost perfectly flush with the wall, was a hidden door. I gave it a gentle push, and it swung inward on a silent hinge. A thick, suffocating stench rolled out. I froze, gagging. 20 The room had an old-fashioned pull-string light. I tugged the cord, and a dim, yellow bulb flickered to life. The small chamber was filled with twelve large industrial-grade plastic drums, each sealed with a sheet of oiled canvas. I lifted the cover off the nearest vat. The smell of decay exploded outwards. A murky, foul-smelling liquid filled the vat. Floating within were chunks of what looked like marinating meat and vegetables—the base for the sauce, I guessed. But the stench… it was unbearable. My eyes stung, and I had to stand up and gasp for fresh air. Thankfully, my years of exposure to death had given me a high tolerance for such smells. Once I had calmed myself, I took out my phone and turned on the camera. This was why I had risked coming in here—to get evidence. 21 I took a deep breath, steeling myself, and plunged my hand into the murky liquid. Beneath the floating chunks of meat, my fingertips brushed against something else. Something soft. I froze. The texture was disturbingly similar to human skin. Just as I was about to pull the object out, I heard the sound of hurried footsteps from outside. Panicked, I slammed the cover back on the vat and dove behind a stack of them in the far corner. The light was dim; if I stayed still, he might not see me. The footsteps grew closer. My palms slicked with nervous sweat. A man’s heavy, ragged breathing filled the small room. He walked around the vats, seemingly checking that everything was in order, before stepping back out. He seemed to be looking for something. 22 Time crawled by. My legs started to go numb. The man still hadn’t left. Just as I was about to cramp up, a shrill ringtone cut through the silence. I couldn’t hear what was being said, but after a short, sharp conversation, the man left in a hurry. I let out a silent breath of relief. I fumbled in the darkness, searching for the pull-string for the light. Suddenly, a puff of warm breath hit my arm. My body went rigid. For a split second, my brain refused to process it. It had to be my imagination. I yanked the cord. The room was flooded with light. “What are you looking for?” a hoarse voice rasped from right behind me. 23 The owner stood in the doorway, a heavy iron ladle in his hand, his face a grim mask. My eyes widened, and my scalp prickled as if struck by lightning. “I… I was…” The words died in my throat. I couldn’t exactly say I was looking for a dead body, could I? He started walking towards me. I threw caution to the wind and charged, trying to shove past him. It was a foolish miscalculation. Years of manual labor had made him strong. He tackled me with surprising speed, sending me crashing to the floor. I was no match for him. After a brief, desperate struggle, my energy was gone. I lay pinned beneath him, his weight crushing the air from my lungs. He clamped my hands above my head, his voice a low growl. “What were you looking for?” 24 His grip was like iron; I couldn’t move an inch. Then, the piercing wail of sirens cut through the night. The police burst through the door, and his grip on me finally loosened. Several officers swarmed into the small space. The first one helped me to my feet. Before I could even explain, the owner’s demeanor flipped. He became the victim. “Officer, thank god you’re here! This girl, she broke in and was tampering with my marinade!” He pointed at my phone. “She was filming it, too! These kids today… they’ll do anything for clicks…” The sudden switch was so jarring it left me speechless. “I didn’t,” I managed, my voice weak. “Then what were you doing here?” the lead officer asked, his question hitting the nail on the head. I stammered, unable to come up with a coherent answer. 25 Just as they were about to lead me away, I took a desperate gamble. I grabbed the officer’s sleeve and pointed at the vats. “There’s a body in there.” The officer’s eyes widened. He waved a hand at his team. “Search them!” The team moved quickly, ripping the covers off the vats. The stench that filled the room became so thick it was hard to breathe. After a few minutes, one of them reported, “Sir, besides the marinade base, we’ve found some chunks of meat.” My heart hammered in my chest. I looked at the owner, who stood with his head bowed, silent. “It has to be human remains!” I cried. 26 The meat was laid out on a plastic sheet. Twelve pieces in total, one from each vat. The lead officer, a detective, crouched down to examine them. After a moment, he shook his head in disappointment. “These aren’t human.” He was right. I could see it now, too. The texture and fiber were wrong. The owner feigned outrage. “Officers, if I were really hiding a body, would I have called the police myself?” he whined, conveniently forgetting that I had been the one to trigger his security alarm. “That’s just pork! It’s part of my family’s secret recipe! How am I supposed to do business after this?” “And you,” he snarled, pointing at me, “why do you keep saying there’s a body? You’ve ruined this entire batch of marinade! You’re going to pay for this!” The detective sighed, clearly overwhelmed by the situation. He pointed at me. “Cuff her. Take her in.” All the fight went out of me. I let them lead me away without another word. 27 Once we were in the patrol car, the detective slowly pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. He took a long drag, his eyes fixed on the glowing sign of the food truck. “How did you know there was a body in there?” I told him the truth. “I smelled it. My family is in the death care business. I’ve been around that smell my whole life.” The detective glanced at me, a flicker of surprise and then approval in his eyes. “You’ve got a good nose, kid.” I looked at him, confused. “You… you’re not mad at me?” He shook his head. “There was definitely the stench of a corpse in there.” “You smelled it too?” I gasped. He looked at the cigarette between his fingers, now burned down to a short stub. He took one last drag and flicked it onto the asphalt. “I’ve worked enough cases and seen enough bodies to know the smell of death. It was thick in there.” “Then why didn’t you keep searching?” I asked. “No probable cause. We can’t just tear a place apart unless we know where the body is hidden.” His words sent my mind racing. The vats reeked of decay, but there was no body. And that pork… was it really a secret ingredient, or was it meant to hide something else? 28 At the station, the detective handed me over to a young officer for processing. The young officer, looking tired and overworked, slid a form across the desk. “Fill this out. Personal information.” Then he went back to his own chaotic paperwork. The station was buzzing with activity, even in the middle of the night. Drunks, domestic disputes, fights—it was a cross-section of the city’s misery. About fifteen minutes later, the young officer slammed a missing person flyer down on his desk in frustration. “God, I’m so sick of this,” he muttered to a colleague. “It never ends.” The sudden noise made me look up. The photo on the flyer was blurry, showing a thin woman in a bright magenta sweater, a little girl of about seven or eight standing beside her. 29 The officer tapped the desk. “What are you looking at? You done?” I averted my gaze and handed him the completed form. He glanced at it, confirmed the details, and began the official questioning. “You’re a college student. So tell me again why you believe a food truck’s secret sauce is being made with… fluid from a corpse?” I stared at the cold steel of the handcuffs, catching the lingering scent of decay trapped under my fingernails. It was, without a doubt, the smell of death. The smell a human body weeps after it’s gone. The officer saw my silence and ran a hand through his hair in frustration. He stood up and dialed the number I had written down for my emergency contact. After a brief, clipped explanation of the situation, he hung up. “Your family is on their way to pick you up.” 30 Seeing my dazed expression, he sat down across from me, his tone softening into a lecture. “Look, you’re a student, so we’re not going to press charges this time. But you will have to compensate the business owner for the damages.” A jolt went through me. I came back to myself. “I understand,” I whispered. My parents lived in a distant suburb, about an hour and a half away. But with no traffic at this hour, they made it to the station in just under sixty minutes. They burst in, not even bothering to close the car door behind them. They fussed over me, checking me from head to toe, and only relaxed when they were sure I was unharmed. My mother pulled me over to the officer. “Officer, what on earth has my daughter done?” The young officer, seeing I was just a kid, tried to downplay the severity of it. “Your daughter was found trespassing in a private business… luckily, no serious harm was done, but you’ll need to cover the owner’s losses.” “Here,” he said, handing my dad a slip of paper with a phone number on it. “This is the owner’s contact information. You can arrange the compensation with him directly.” My parents shot me a look of disbelief before turning back to the officer with apologetic smiles. “We’re so sorry, officer. We’ll be sure to have a serious talk with her when we get home.” 31 The moment we were back in the car, my mother’s face hardened. “What really happened?” she demanded. From her tone, I knew I had to tell them everything, or she’d never let it go. I sighed and recounted the whole story, from the first smell to being caught in the back room. “Mom, you know my nose,” I finished lamely. “How could I be wrong about something like that?” My father, who had been listening intently, finally understood the gravity of the situation. “But to go in there alone? Mia, that was incredibly dangerous!” My mother’s expression was grim. “Your father’s right. You need to stay out of this. This is not something a young girl should be involved in.” I knew they were right. I had been reckless. I hung my head in shame. “I’m sorry. I was impulsive.” The tension in the car was thick. My father tried to smooth things over. “Well, as long as you’ve learned your lesson. Listen to your mother, honey. From now on, you stay away from that place.” Seeing me nod obediently, my mother’s expression finally softened a little. 32 By now, it was long past the dorm’s curfew. There was no way I could get back in. Fortunately, before the semester started, my parents had rented a small two-bedroom apartment for me near the campus. I used it occasionally when my work at the funeral home ran late and it was inconvenient to go back to the dorm. After my mom made me promise I’d be okay on my own, she and my dad finally left. I took a hot shower and collapsed into bed. I must have been more exhausted than I realized, because I fell into a deep, dreamless sleep. I didn’t wake up until noon the next day. Luckily, I had no morning classes. After getting ready, I headed out to go back to campus. As I was walking down the stairs of my apartment building, I nearly collided with a familiar figure. The fries truck owner. He was just as surprised to see me as I was to see him. We both froze. For a moment, we just stared at each other, the air thick with awkward silence. What a small world. Who would have thought that the man I suspected of murder lived in the same building as me? 33 I lowered my head and tried to walk past him without a word. After the lecture from my parents, I had decided to drop the whole thing. “Thump!” A loud crash and a cry of pain came from behind me. I spun around. The owner was sprawled on the landing of the stairs, clutching his ankle and groaning in pain. Did he fall? I looked around. The stairwell was empty. With a sigh, I went back and helped him up. “Thanks,” he muttered, leaning his full weight on me. I had to brace myself to keep from toppling over. 34 The moment his left foot touched the ground, his face contorted in pain. Looks like a sprained ankle. “Do you need me to help you get back to your apartment?” I couldn’t just leave him here. It felt wrong. He gritted his teeth and nodded. “If you don’t mind.” I helped him hobble up one flight of stairs to the fourth floor. He stopped in front of his door. I glanced at the apartment number: 402. Huh? 402? My apartment was 302. The owner lived directly above me? What a strange coincidence. I didn’t mention it, though. The less he knew, the better. And really, there was no reason to.

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1 “Jackson, if you want to divorce Freya, you will forfeit everything—the trust, the shares. You will leave with nothing.” “Fine.” “You will also relinquish all rights to the child and are never to see them again. Can you accept that?” “I accept.” Jackson Vance’s voice was resolute, devoid of emotion. “Mrs. Burrows, the contract has expired. Freya and the boy have someone to look after them now. It’s time for me to go.” Silence lingered on the other end of the line before Freya’s mother sighed, a long, weary sound. “If you’re so determined to leave, then as we agreed, I’ll arrange for you to study music at the Vienna Conservatory. The paperwork will take a week.” “As for the divorce… you can tell Freya yourself.” “Thank you, ma’am.” After hanging up, Jackson quietly pulled out a photograph. In the picture, Freya Burrows’s face was alight with a blissful, radiant smile. Their son, Leo, was beside her, waving a toy in a blur of happy motion. The cruel irony was that the man in the photo with them wasn’t Jackson. It was Freya’s childhood sweetheart, Sebastian Cole. … Sebastian and Freya were heirs to powerful families, inseparable from childhood and each other’s first love. But at twenty, Sebastian went abroad for an arranged marriage with another woman. When Freya found out, she nearly lost her mind, spending her days lost in a haze of tears and grief. Desperate to save her daughter, Mrs. Burrows found Jackson, a brilliant Juilliard student in desperate need of money. For half a million dollars, she bought ten years of his life to pull Freya back from the brink. From that day on, a relentless suitor appeared at Freya’s side. He was not only strikingly handsome but a gifted musician, full of talent and life. When Freya’s spirits fell, he would appear as if from nowhere to play a soothing melody for her. When she was ill, he would keep a sleepless vigil by her bedside, his care absolute. Slowly, she grew accustomed to having this male nurse, this shadow, but she never agreed to his advances. Until one night, at a high-stakes business dinner. A rival heir challenged the table to a drinking contest, with a massive international project on the line. To secure the deal for Freya, Jackson drank himself into the hospital with a bleeding ulcer. That was the first time Freya ever cried for him. “Jackson,” she had whispered at his bedside, “I’ll marry you. I believe we can make this work…” Only later did Jackson learn that day was also the day of Sebastian’s grand wedding, and photos of him kissing his new bride were circulating throughout their entire social circle. The truth didn’t break Jackson’s spirit. Instead, he fulfilled his contract with even more diligence, marrying into the Burrows family. For eight years, he was a devoted husband. He and Freya had their son, Leo, who took the Burrows family name. Jackson thought their quiet life might last forever, but then Sebastian’s family business collapsed. He divorced his wife and returned home. The day he landed, Freya raced to the airport at a hundred and twenty miles an hour. She threw him the most extravagant welcome-home party and gifted him a million-dollar watch and a luxury sports car. Their old flame was quickly rekindled, their contact becoming more and more frequent. To push Jackson out faster, Sebastian deliberately got close to Leo, poisoning the boy’s mind with whispers about his father. Soon, his once-proud son was affectionately calling another man “Dad.” His wife, a woman who had never lifted a finger in the kitchen, began baking Sebastian his favorite pastries from scratch. Jackson understood. There was no place left for him in this home. But none of it mattered anymore. In one week, he would be free from this gilded cage that had held him for a decade. He would finally pursue his own dreams, his music. Jackson drafted the divorce papers and waited quietly for his wife and son to return. Half an hour later, the front door of the villa opened. 2 At the sound, Jackson moved automatically, lining up their slippers by the door and taking their coats, just as he always did. He had timed dinner perfectly, ensuring the food would be hot and ready the moment they walked in. “It’s getting cold out. I made some chicken soup. You and Leo should have some while it’s warm.” “We already ate. I was catching up with Sebastian,” Freya said dismissively, her eyes glued to her phone, her thumbs flying across the screen. Beside her, Leo scowled. “Soup again? I told you I wanted fried chicken!” “Leo, fried chicken isn’t healthy…” “I don’t care! Sebastian bought me fried chicken! You just don’t want to make it for me.” Leo threw the chopsticks Jackson offered him onto the floor. “No wonder everyone says you’re useless! You have no money and no skills! You can’t even make fried chicken!” “You’re not even half the man Sebastian is! Hmph!” The childish, venomous words were like steel needles piercing Jackson’s heart, a cold sickness spreading through him. He couldn’t imagine what poison Sebastian had been feeding the boy to make him so ungrateful. Jackson slowly looked to Freya, but her reaction was even more chilling. “He’s just a child, Jackson. Don’t take it to heart.” She glanced up for a second, her tone flat. “Leo, don’t talk to your father like that.” “I will!” Leo made a face and ran upstairs. “He doesn’t even dare to talk back. He really is a useless loser…” And just like that, everything returned to normal. The vast living room fell into a dead silence, the crystal chandelier hanging precariously above. Jackson sank onto the sofa and sat there for a long time before finally pulling the divorce agreement from beneath the coffee table. Freya was still staring at her phone, but now her frown had smoothed into a look of pure, relaxed contentment. It was obvious she was texting Sebastian. That genuine joy was something he hadn’t seen on her face in their entire marriage. Jackson let out a self-mocking laugh and placed the papers on the table. It didn’t matter. Once she signed, he and Freya would be finished, completely and utterly free. “Freya,” he said, his voice as casual as if he were discussing the weather. “Let’s get a divorce. I’ll leave with nothing.” “Mm-hmm,” she grunted, her eyes fixed on the screen. “Leo will stay with you. We’ll never see each other again. If that’s all good, just sign here.” “Okay.” He was used to her distracted replies; it was the soundtrack to the last decade of his life. But now, with Sebastian back in the picture, she couldn’t even be bothered to pretend. Jackson slid the pen and paper towards her. Without hesitation, she scribbled her name, only to pause at the final stroke. He glanced over and saw her smiling foolishly at her phone. “Freya, did you hear a word I just said?” “Hmm?” She looked up, annoyed, and quickly finished her signature without a second glance at the document. “Isn’t it just about that charity event again? From now on, you can just sign for those things yourself.” With that, she stood up and went to her room, closing the door firmly behind her. Watching her leave, Jackson’s mouth twitched into a bitter line. She hadn’t heard him. She hadn’t cared at all. Ten years of his life, ten years of devotion, and in the end, it amounted to nothing more than his wife’s indifference and his son’s contempt. But it was almost over. Just seven more days, and he would be gone for good. His wife, his son, and this thing they called a home. He didn’t want any of it anymore. 3 The next morning was cold, the first real bite of autumn in the air. When Jackson woke, Freya’s side of the bed was already empty. He fixed himself a quick breakfast and then headed to St. Jude’s Hospital. He walked into the patient room, and the elderly woman lying in bed immediately sat up, her wrinkled face breaking into a joyful smile. “Jackson… what are you doing here?” “Director Miller, I came to say goodbye.” Jackson handed the old woman an envelope containing the final hundred thousand dollars from his contract payout. “I’m going abroad to study music soon. This is the last of the money for the orphanage.” “Oh, you dear boy… more money?” The director was so moved she began to cry. She had found Jackson at five years old and raised him in the orphanage. He had earned a scholarship to Juilliard on his own merit and was on the verge of a brilliant career abroad when a sudden illness left her in desperate need of a half-million-dollar surgery. To repay her kindness, Jackson had sold ten years of his life. The money had paid for her surgery, and the rest had helped rebuild the orphanage. She didn’t know how she could ever thank him. “Please, don’t worry about it, Director. Once I finish my studies, money won’t be an issue anymore.” “You’re right, of course. Going abroad is a wonderful opportunity. I’m so happy for you.” Then, a thought struck her. “But if you go overseas, won’t it be difficult to see your wife and son?” “It’s better if I don’t see them. Less trouble that way,” Jackson said with a hollow laugh. “I… I’m divorced.” The director stared at him for a moment, then pulled him into a tight embrace, stroking his head. “Good,” she murmured. “It’s for the best. You’ve suffered enough all these years. From now on, you have to be good to yourself.” “I will be, Director. I promise.” … After leaving the hospital, Jackson went back to the villa to pack. He had tied up his last loose end. He could leave the Burrows family with a clear conscience. It only took a few hours to pack up his life. He also boxed up everything related to Freya and Leo. The scarf he had knitted to please her, the baby bottles left over from Leo’s infancy… For ten years, he had poured his heart and soul into this family. Even without the contract, he had wanted a warm home to call his own. But it had all been a fantasy. Jackson took one last look at the boxes, then carried them out to the trash cans by the gate. Just then, a Rolls-Royce pulled up to the curb. Leo jumped out of the car first. Seeing Jackson by the trash, he wrinkled his nose in disgust. “What are you doing, digging through the garbage? Have you no shame?” “Is dinner ready yet? I want fried chicken!” Looking at the boy he had raised for six years, Jackson’s heart twisted, but the pain was quickly overshadowed by a surge of cold anger. “If you want fried chicken, go ask your Uncle Sebastian.” “You…” Leo’s face was a mask of shock. It was the first time Jackson had ever spoken to him like that. At that moment, Freya and Sebastian walked up. “Jackson, Sebastian’s house is undergoing some renovations. He’ll need to stay with us for a few days. I trust that’s not a problem?” This was the first time Jackson had seen Sebastian up close. He had a naturally refined, almost delicate beauty that years of marriage hadn’t touched. It was no wonder Freya was still so captivated by him. In contrast, Jackson, who had once been just as young and handsome, was now worn down by years of thankless labor. Leo seized the opportunity. “Hurry up and help Uncle Sebastian with his luggage! Didn’t you hear me, you bad daddy? If you don’t, I won’t like you anymore!” Jackson looked from Freya to Sebastian. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice flat. “I just pulled a muscle in my back. I can’t lift anything.” At his words, a flash of coldness crossed Sebastian’s eyes, but he quickly masked it with a look of pained reluctance. “Oh, then… perhaps we should forget it. It seems Mr. Vance isn’t too happy about this. My apologies…” He turned as if to leave, but Freya grabbed his arm. “Don’t be silly. I’ll help you with your bags. You’re staying here. He won’t have a problem with it.” Jackson watched the scene unfold with a quiet, bitter amusement. “That’s right,” he said. “You can have our room. I won’t have a problem with it at all.” What did it matter anymore? Judging by Freya’s attitude, this house would belong to Sebastian soon enough anyway. 4 Freya immediately rushed to help with the luggage, afraid that if she delayed for even a second, Sebastian would change his mind. Leo, playing the part of the dutiful son, trotted over to grab a smaller bag. The three of them, laughing and talking as they supported each other, looked like a perfect little family returning from vacation. “What are you still standing there for? Go make dinner!” Leo demanded. “I want fried chicken, and Mom and Uncle Sebastian want seafood to… you know, build up their strength.” Treating Jackson like a personal chef had become the norm in this house. For years, he had been their live-in butler, catering not only to Freya’s demanding palate but also designing perfectly balanced, nutritious meals for Leo. They had never had to lift a finger. This time, however, Jackson’s reply was unexpected. “I can’t.” Freya stared at him, stunned. In her memory, this was the first time he had ever refused to do something she asked. Before she could react, Sebastian put on a wounded expression. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come. I’m just an outsider, after all. I don’t deserve to have Mr. Vance cook for me.” He picked up his bags, turned around, and put them back in the trunk, slamming it shut. “This has nothing to do with you,” Freya snapped, her brow furrowing as she shot Jackson a dark look. “You said you didn’t have a problem with this. What game are you playing now?” Jackson’s answer was calm. “There’s no food in the refrigerator. I can’t cook.” He was leaving, so he hadn’t gone grocery shopping. Besides, he had no intention of cooking for them anyway. It was a convenient excuse. After ten years of swallowing his pride, he refused to back down again. At his words, Leo threw a full-blown tantrum on the lawn. “I knew it! You’re the most useless dad in the world! You didn’t even buy groceries! Are you trying to starve us? Waaah!” “You’re not my dad! I want Sebastian to be my dad!” Seeing this, a flicker of triumph crossed Sebastian’s eyes, quickly replaced by a mask of false sincerity. “Leo, you shouldn’t talk to your father like that. It’s very rude.” “I’m sorry, Uncle Sebastian. I’ll be more careful.” “Well, since there’s no food here,” Sebastian said smoothly, “why don’t we go to that steakhouse we passed on the way? I’ll even order you your own plate of fried chicken.” “Yay! Uncle Sebastian, you’re the best!” Leo hugged Sebastian’s leg, and Freya watched them with a doting smile. The scene was sickeningly sweet. The three of them piled into the back seat of the car, and Freya told Jackson to drive so that Sebastian could rest. The entire way, Sebastian played games and chatted with Freya and Leo in the back, their laughter filling the car. They treated Jackson like he was nothing but air. “Mr. Vance,” Sebastian called out, his voice loud enough to make sure he was heard. “Freya and I are just catching up. I hope you don’t mind.” He added, with deliberate condescension, “We wouldn’t want to bore you with things you wouldn’t understand.” Jackson just grunted, his eyes fixed on the road. He didn’t need to know, and he didn’t want to know. None of it mattered to him anymore. … Half an hour later, they were seated at a table. Freya took the menu and began ordering for them. “Sebastian likes the filet, medium-rare, and no black pepper…” After a decade, she still remembered Sebastian’s every preference. Then, for the first time in ten years, she asked Jackson what he wanted. “Jackson, what cut would you like?” “I don’t eat steak,” he replied flatly, surprising her. In ten years of marriage, he knew every detail of her life, but this was the first she had ever learned about his. “You guys enjoy your meal. I’m leaving.” He had brought them here. He had no desire to stay and be tortured further. None of the three of them tried to stop him. They simply watched in silent agreement as he walked out of the restaurant. A few minutes later, Jackson realized he still had the car keys. He turned around and headed back. He hadn’t even reached the door when he heard exclamations from inside. “Isn’t that Ms. Burrows? What a beautiful family you have.” “And this handsome gentleman must be your husband. No wonder you keep him hidden away; you must be afraid someone will steal him!” 5 Although Sebastian had been abroad for years and was largely forgotten in their social circles, his elegant demeanor and refined speech quickly captured the attention of the gossiping crowd. Everyone was charmed by him. “Ms. Burrows and Mr. Cole are such a perfect couple. How long have you been married? Your son is already so big!” Freya blushed slightly but didn’t deny it. Leo, meanwhile, played his part perfectly, calling Sebastian “Dad” over and over again. Watching the scene unfold, Jackson felt a brief stab of pain, but it quickly faded into a calm numbness. What was there to be angry about? He was just a toy Mrs. Burrows had bought to appease her daughter, a tool used to produce a Burrows heir. The contract was ending, the transaction was complete. None of this had anything to do with him anymore. Inside the restaurant, Sebastian caught a glimpse of Jackson through the window. He deliberately speared a piece of steak and held it gently to Freya’s lips. “Freya, thank you so much for helping me move today. You must be exhausted.” “It was nothing. Your business is my business,” she replied with a small smile, opening her mouth to accept the bite. Sebastian leaned in closer, their faces nearly touching, the gesture charged with intimacy. The onlookers started to cheer. “This is so sweet! Am I watching a romance movie?” “Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!” Leo joined in with a mischievous grin. “Mom, hurry up and kiss! I can’t wait!” “We’re in public! Behave yourself!” Freya’s cheeks were flushed as she whispered a soft reprimand. This only excited Sebastian more. He cupped the back of her head and pressed his lips to hers. She hesitated for a moment, but as he deepened the kiss, she surrendered, slowly closing her eyes to enjoy it. Watching her feigned shyness from outside, Jackson let out a cold, silent laugh. So, the great ice queen CEO wasn’t always so cold and distant. She was just cold and distant to him. He had no desire to be nauseated any further. He handed the keys to a waiter and left without another word. “Ms. Burrows,” the waiter said, approaching their table. “A gentleman just dropped off these car keys for you.” The two of them were still nestled close together, their faces glowing with happiness. At the waiter’s words, Freya’s head snapped towards the door. “What? Was Jackson just here?” Seeing her apparent concern, Sebastian felt a prick of annoyance. He feigned surprise. “Oh no, this is bad. We were just joking around. I hope Mr. Vance didn’t see and get the wrong idea.” “Don’t worry about him, Uncle Sebastian,” Leo piped up, his mouth full. “He’s just our butler.” “Besides, you and Mom used to date. What’s wrong with a little kiss?” “Leo, don’t talk nonsense,” Freya said, her expression shifting as she cut her son off. She quickly gathered her purse and rushed outside. On the cold, empty sidewalk, Freya ran to catch up with Jackson just as he was about to hail a cab. 6 The moment their eyes met, she held her breath, bracing herself for an angry tirade. But they stood there in a long, tense silence, his face as calm and still as a stagnant pool of water. “Don’t misunderstand what happened back there,” she finally said. “Sebastian and I were just joking around. It didn’t mean anything.” When he still didn’t react, a flicker of anger ignited in her. “Are you blaming me? What was I supposed to do with everyone cheering us on?” “I’m not blaming you,” he said, his frankness terrifying. “Is there anything else?” Freya shook her head, stunned into silence as she watched him get into a taxi and drive away. For some reason, a strange, unsettling feeling crept into her heart. When had Jackson become so… tolerant? Sebastian had already followed her out. Without another thought, she went back into the restaurant to finish her meal. … Night fell, and the trio returned to the villa, their laughter echoing in the grand foyer. Freya immediately started preparing bedding and toiletries for Sebastian, but having never done a single chore, she had no idea where anything was. Though she felt a pang of guilt, she ended up calling Jackson to do it. Jackson silently retrieved the items, then returned to his study and shut the door. Sebastian clenched the towel in his hand and sighed dramatically. “It seems Mr. Vance is still hostile towards me. Maybe I should just check into a hotel tomorrow.” “A hotel isn’t as comfortable as a villa,” Freya said, her expression complicated. “He’s been acting a little strange today. Don’t mind him.” Leo immediately grabbed Sebastian’s hand. “Uncle Sebastian, my dad took the study. You can sleep in the master bedroom with us tonight!” “I don’t think that’s a good idea…” “Don’t be silly, you’re our guest! We can’t let you sleep on the sofa!” “Alright, then.” After Sebastian reluctantly accepted the invitation, Jackson’s phone buzzed with a new message less than half an hour later. [Mr. Vance, mind if I borrow your razor?] The message was accompanied by a photo. It showed not only the razor but also Freya and Leo playing a board game with Sebastian on the master bed in the background. [It’s used. If you don’t mind my germs, go ahead.] Jackson replied without a second thought, then switched his phone to silent and fell into a deep sleep. … Two days flew by. Only four days remained until the divorce was finalized. Jackson had already purchased the instruments he would need for his studies and was practicing in his room. But the constant noise from downstairs was a grating distraction. He went down to find Sebastian and Leo roughhousing. “Uncle Sebastian, I want to play cats and fish! Can you get that fishbowl down for me?” “Hold on,” Jackson said, stepping in front of them. “You can’t play with the fish. Pick something else.” Leo had a history with that fishbowl. Every time, he would torture the small fish until they were half-dead, leaving Jackson to clean up the mess. Jackson had tried many times to teach him to respect life, but his efforts were always met with curses and resentment. He was trying to stop it this time to save the fish he had so carefully raised. “You… you just don’t want me to have any fun!” Leo snarled. Sebastian seized the opportunity. “Jackson, how much can a few fish be worth? You shouldn’t crush the boy’s spirit.” “The fish aren’t worth much. I’m just trying to teach him to be kind.” “And how much is ‘kindness’ worth?” Sebastian sneered, poking Jackson in the shoulder. “You’re so kind, but could you even keep your own wife? Your own family?” Sebastian was a man who never let a slight go. He was still fuming from their confrontation the other night and was eager to humiliate Jackson. “I only protect what’s important to me,” Jackson said, calmly placing the fishbowl back on its high shelf. “What you’re talking about isn’t as important as these fish.” “Then you can have them.” “You…?” Sebastian was flushed with anger. “Talk tough all you want. I don’t believe you have no feelings for the woman you’ve been married to for ten years. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll get the hell out of here before I make you.” This time, Jackson didn’t even bother to reply. He simply turned and walked away. A vicious glint appeared in Sebastian’s eyes. He lunged forward and snatched the fishbowl from the shelf. Jackson reacted instantly, his hand shooting out to grab the edge of the bowl. As they struggled, the glass slipped from their grasp and crashed to the floor. CRASH! Shards of glass flew everywhere, the sharp edges instantly slicing through their skin. At that exact moment, Freya was coming down the stairs.

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The moment I was reborn, my sister had already been drugged. “Ash, I’m so hot…” Her warm breath ghosted over my earlobe. But this time, instead of making the same mistake, I knocked on the door of the man she truly loved. In my last life, I fell for my adoptive sister. Fueled by alcohol, I gave in to the impulses I had long suppressed. Even though I knew she was calling out another man’s name, I carried her into my own bedroom. The next morning, when we were discovered, she was forced to marry me. On our wedding day, the love of her life, her “white moonlight,” went hiking to clear his head. He fell from a cliff. As he lay dying, he sent her one last text message. [My dear Luna, let’s be together in our next life.] My sister, Luna, stared at that message in silence for an entire night. Then, during our honeymoon, she pushed me off the very same cliff. I clung to the edge, begging her to pull me up, but she just laughed, a wild, terrible sound. She pressed her foot onto my hand, grinding it back and forth into the sharp rock. Through her maniacal laughter, I finally understood. She blamed me for his death. And then I woke up, back in the present, watching my sister, flushed and feverish with desire. 1 “I’m so hot, Ashton…” she murmured, her voice thick with a desire that wasn’t for me. “Hot… help me…” Under the influence of the aphrodisiac, Luna’s consciousness was fading. Her glossy red lips were slightly parted, emitting soft, breathy moans. The feeling of her soft body pressed against my arm was a visceral reminder that I had been given a second chance. In my last life, emboldened by alcohol, I lost all reason to her whispered pleas. I crossed a forbidden line, and it led to my brutal death at the bottom of a ravine. But now, reborn, I refused to repeat that mistake. Ashton, the man she loved, was staying in the guest room on the second floor. The moment he opened the door, I pushed Luna into his arms. “My sister’s had too much to drink,” I said, my voice flat. “She’s been calling your name.” I turned and walked away, ignoring the complex look in Ashton’s eyes. The sound of his door closing behind me was a profound relief. Because of one selfish choice, my past life had ended with Luna forced into a loveless marriage with me, and Ashton dead. Luna’s heart had filled with a murderous hatred, and she’d changed our honeymoon plans specifically to lead me to that cliff and exact her revenge. Even now, the visceral terror of that fall lingered in my soul. This time, I had given them their chance. Surely, the ending would be different now. The next morning, a servant woke me. As I entered the dining room, my eyes met Luna’s. Unlike the dead, hollow look she’d had in our last life, this time her eyes were practically overflowing with joy. Seeing me, she cleared her throat and lifted her hand from under the table, her fingers intertwined with Ashton’s. “Now that everyone’s here, I have an announcement,” she declared. “Ashton and I have decided to get married. We’ll let you all know the date once it’s set.” “I’ll take good care of Luna,” Ashton said with a slight bow. “Soon, we’ll all be family. I hope you’ll all be patient with the new guy.” Watching them, a perfectly matched pair, my mind drifted. If this were my past life, what would I be doing right now? Throwing things? Screaming? My silence seemed to bother Ashton. “Caden isn’t saying anything,” he teased, a malicious glint in his eye. “Don’t you want your sister to get married? Or… do you just hate me?” I snapped back to reality just in time to see the corner of his mouth twitch into a smirk before it vanished. He immediately turned to Luna, his expression one of wounded innocence. “Luna, Caden is your brother. I don’t want any trouble between you two. If he can’t accept this right away, I can leave for a while.” Luna frowned at me, her gaze sharp. “Ashton is going to be your brother-in-law. If I see you giving him that sour face again, don’t blame me for being harsh. Do you understand?” I had no intention of getting between them this time, but they seemed determined to drag me in. My already small appetite vanished completely. I mumbled that I understood and turned to leave. Luna slammed her hand on the table. “Get back here and eat. Are you going on a hunger strike just because I said a few words to you? Where did you pick up such a pathetic habit?” I had already decided to leave this house soon. I didn’t want to spend my last days here fighting. Seeing the anger in her eyes, I sat back down and forced a few bites of food. Then I stood up and smiled. “I’m done, Luna. Ashton. You two enjoy your meal.” I had barely reached my room when the doorknob turned. Luna walked in, her expression serious. 2 “You should knock before entering.” My words made her brow furrow. “Are you avoiding me?” she asked abruptly. “Or are you throwing a tantrum because of Ashton?” “We’re not children anymore. I just think we should be mindful of appearances. I don’t want your fiancé to get the wrong idea.” I shook my head and offered a small, formal bow. “I’m very happy for you and Ashton. I wish you a long and happy life together.” I tried to sound playful, but for some reason, it only seemed to anger her more. “Are you sure you mean that?” “At your eighteenth birthday party, you kissed me while I was drunk and asleep. On your twentieth, you stood outside my door all night. On our graduation trip, you buried a stone with our names on it under the lover’s rock at the shrine…” As I stared at her in shock, a cruel smile spread across her face. “Caden, did you really think I didn’t know? You thought you were being so clever, hiding your feelings, but you were so obvious. Everyone in this family knows you’re in love with me!” She lifted my chin with her fingertips, her red lips parting. “I was adopted by our parents before you were even born. We were raised as brother and sister. But the moment you found out we weren’t related by blood, you started having inappropriate feelings for me.” “And what makes me angriest,” she continued, her voice dripping with venom, “is that you knew I loved Ashton, yet you deliberately antagonized him at every turn.” In the privacy of my room, she unleashed all the malice she had kept hidden. “So you should be grateful you never confessed your feelings to my face.” “Because if you had… it would have only disgusted me.” Even though I had already let go of my feelings for her in this life, her words still sent a sharp, stabbing pain through my heart. I lifted my head, meeting her gaze, searching for an answer for the me of the past. “In your eyes, was I really that terrible?” “What else would you be?” She pulled her hand back and wiped her fingertips with a tissue from the desk. “Last night, even though I was drugged, I wasn’t completely unconscious. I saw the desire in your eyes. And I’m telling you, if you had dared to do anything, I would have killed you.” She threw the used tissue at me. “The thought of you touching me makes my skin crawl.” I never knew. I never knew she had started hating me so long ago. I pressed my lips together, forcing back the tears. It was a good thing I had already moved on. If I hadn’t, this truth would have been unbearable. “I understand,” I said, my voice low. “I’ll be more careful from now on.” I lowered my head. My professor from abroad had just emailed me, accepting my application. I just had to get through these last few days. I had no fight left in me. But I didn’t know Luna could be even crueler. She walked to the window, glanced outside, and then turned back to me. “Ashton’s room is a bit damp. He’s not sleeping well. Your room gets the best sunlight. You can move out today. He’ll take this one.” Sunlight streamed through the window, framing her in a halo of light. I couldn’t quite make out her expression. Her voice turned cold. “What, you’re not willing?” I kept my head down, my voice as neutral as I could make it. “No. This was your room to begin with. You can give it to whomever you want.” This room had been Luna’s a long time ago. But when I was seven, I nearly drowned and suffered from a persistent chill for a long time afterward. She had insisted I take her room, the one that got the most sun. I had almost forgotten. She used to be good to me. But now, she had someone she loved more. And she was giving him all her affection, without reservation. Luna narrowed her eyes. “You’re really okay with this?” I just grunted in affirmation. It wasn’t until the servants had moved almost all of my belongings into another room that she finally spoke again, unable to contain her suspicion. “You used to cry and throw a fit if I was nice to anyone else. Why are you suddenly so well-behaved? Are you plotting something?” She was testing me. “I don’t care what you’re planning, but if you hurt Ashton, don’t blame me for what I do. You know what I’m capable of.” The last of my things were moved into the guest room. I stepped inside, and just before closing the door, I looked back at her. “A well-behaved, obedient little brother. Isn’t that what you’ve always wanted?” “I’m not going to target anyone. I just want to be left alone.” I shut the door, cutting off her hissed reply: “You’ve got a lot of nerve.” She was angry. But this time, I wasn’t going to comfort her.

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Only when they saw Aethelgard’s corpse-strewn fields and Lady Agnes’s head on the Crimson Covenant’s gates did they believe me. They turned on Seraphina, voices raw. “You said Caden was jealous! You made us celebrate Lysander’s birthday! How could this happen?” Seraphina trembled. Last life, when the Covenant attacked, Seraphina had led our best mages to celebrate novice Lysander’s birthday. I’d raced back to help repel the attack—but too late for Lysander. The cultists tortured him to death, dismembered him, and hung his remains on their gates. Seraphina alone retrieved his body. After three months secluded, she emerged—and ran me through with her sword. “If you hadn’t conspired with them,” she hissed, “Lysander would live. You never should have existed.” 1 When I opened my eyes, I was back. It was the day of the attack. I scrambled out of my chambers. Lady Agnes and a handful of junior disciples were at the main gate, desperately pouring their aether into the Great Ward. In the distance, a horde of Covenant cultists watched like wolves, launching fireball after fireball at the shimmering barrier, trying to batter their way through. I began my own incantation, adding my aether to the Ward. Sensing my presence, Lady Agnes turned. “Caden! Go to the rear mountain! Find Seraphina and bring the others back, quickly!” It pained me, but I had to tell her the truth. “My Lady, they aren’t at the rear mountain. They’ve gone down to the village to celebrate Lysander’s birthday.” Ever since the Shadow Lord of the Covenant was captured and imprisoned within Aethelgard, a new rule had been established: no Adept-rank mage was to leave the Citadel without the Grandmaster’s explicit permission. And the dozen mages who had left with Seraphina were the Order’s strongest. “Those irresponsible fools!” Lady Agnes cursed. “Use the Vox Crystal! Tell them to return at once!” I hesitated. “My Lady, perhaps we shouldn’t. If we interrupt Lysander’s birthday, Seraphina will be furious.” “Caden, have you lost all sense? A birthday party or the fate of Aethelgard? Which do you think is more important?” Before I could answer, she had already activated the Vox Crystal herself, her voice ringing with urgency. “Seraphina! The Crimson Covenant is at the gates! Bring your brothers and sisters back now!” Lady Agnes was her mother. In the past, Seraphina had always been the most obedient of daughters. But this time, a cold, dismissive laugh came through the crystal. “Mother, please, spare me the theatrics.” Lady Agnes frowned. “What are you talking about?” “I know you’ve never been fond of Lysander, but you shouldn’t stoop to conspiring with Caden to trick me back with such a ridiculous lie. I made inquiries this morning. The Covenant’s high priest is getting married today. The entire cult is celebrating. They have no time to attack Aethelgard. Today is Lysander’s birthday—the first one he’s ever truly celebrated. We promised him we would spend the entire day with him. So please, you and Caden, just behave yourselves and don’t bother us.” The connection was severed. Lady Agnes’s face was a mask of fury. “That boy, Lysander! What potion has he fed my daughter that she no longer trusts her own mother’s word?” Suddenly, the entire mountain shuddered. She whipped her head around, her face draining of color. “Sky-Breaker… How do they have the Sky-Breaker Axe?” At the head of the enemy horde, two hulking figures were swinging a colossal axe, each blow sending spiderweb cracks across the surface of the Great Ward. Sky-Breaker was the legendary weapon of our Order’s first Grandmaster. Upon his Ascension, he had left it behind as the Citadel’s ultimate defense. “They stole it,” Lady Agnes whispered in horror. “No wonder they could bypass the lower wards.” She turned to me, her eyes filled with desperate resolve. “Caden, I will hold the Ward here. You must go to your master.” “But the Grandmaster is in seclusion!” I protested. “To disturb him now could cause his aether to run wild, it could kill him!” Three years ago, after subduing the Shadow Lord, our master had been gravely wounded. He’d been meditating in the sealed Grotto of Sorrows ever since, leaving the Order in Seraphina’s care—which was precisely why she’d been able to lead so many adepts away. “Caden,” Lady Agnes said, her voice stern and unyielding. “Do you know what lies south of this mountain? The mortal realms. The Covenant first grew its power by devouring mortal souls. The First Grandmaster founded this Order here to protect those people, to beat the darkness back. We bear a responsibility not just to contain the Covenant, but to shield the innocent.” She looked me dead in the eye. “Compared to the lives of all those people, what is your master’s life? What is mine?” Her words struck me like a tolling bell. I clenched my fists. “Then you go to the Grandmaster. I will defend the Ward.” “No.” She shoved me back. “My power is greater than yours. I can hold them for half an hour. Go! You must return with him before then!” With tears in my eyes, I nodded, and launched myself into the air, flying toward the Grotto of Sorrows. But as I reached the foot of the sealed mountain, a flash of light slammed into me, sending me crashing to the ground. I thought the Covenant had found me. But when I looked up, it was my junior sister, Rhea, standing over me. My eyes widened. “Rhea! What are you doing here?” “I was waiting for you.” 2 Rhea’s expression was strange, unreadable. I didn’t have time for this. “The Covenant is at the gates! Rhea, you have to help Lady Agnes! I’m going to get the Grandmaster.” Rhea was the most gifted prodigy in our Order. With her help, they could surely hold on longer. I tried to take flight again, but a hand grabbed the back of my tunic. In one smooth motion, Rhea twisted and threw me over her shoulder, slamming me hard onto the packed earth. “Oh, cut the act, Caden. Don’t play these games with me.” Her words were almost identical to Seraphina’s. My mind went blank. “What are you talking about?” “You’re just jealous that Seraphina organized a party for Lysander, aren’t you? Is it really necessary to bother the Grandmaster over something so petty? He’s at a critical point in his healing. If you disturb him over this, he’ll never forgive you.” “Rhea, I’m not jealous!” I scrambled to explain. “The Covenant is really here!” “Don’t lie to me,” she scoffed. “Seraphina told us this morning. She said you were upset about her and Lysander and would definitely cause a scene. She even took us down the mountain to reinforce the lower wards herself. Even if the Shadow Lord himself escaped, he couldn’t break through them.” I sighed, a wave of exhaustion washing over me. “They stole the Sky-Breaker Axe. Rhea, I swear on my life, everything I’m saying is true.” Perhaps the desperation in my voice gave her pause. She seemed to hesitate. But then a small, pitying smile touched her lips. “You really are a terrible liar, Caden. Sky-Breaker is locked in the Grandmaster’s private chambers. How could they possibly have stolen it?” No matter how I tried to explain, she was convinced I was lying. I couldn’t waste any more time. I twisted out of her grip. “Fine, don’t believe me! But I have to get to the Grandmaster, or all of Aethelgard will be lost!” “Don’t run!” The next moment, Rhea produced a set of silver chains. With a single word of power, they flew through the air and wrapped around me, binding me tight. I struggled on the ground, helpless. “Rhea, let me go! There’s no time! Lady Agnes is still at the gate! If you won’t save her, are you going to stop anyone else from trying?” She shook her head. “Stop shouting, Caden. To be honest, Seraphina told me to wait here specifically to catch you. I’ve been here for a while, and I haven’t seen a single cultist.” She looked at me with genuine confusion. “I just don’t get it. Seraphina and Lysander are perfect for each other, a match made in the heavens. Why do you have to be so conniving and try to ruin their happiness?” I knew. They all thought I was a scheming, petty villain. And Lysander, their precious Lysander, was a true gentleman. A year ago, Seraphina had found him, an orphan with no discernible aether, and brought him back to the Citadel. She had insisted on taking him as her personal apprentice, a position of incredible honor. I had argued with her, pointing out how unfair it was to the other, more talented disciples. It broke all our traditions. It was a clear abuse of her authority. I was trying to stand up for fairness, but somehow, I was branded as being jealous of Lysander. From that day on, my relationship with Seraphina had grown colder and more distant. When Lysander’s training wand broke, she accused me of sabotaging it. When he “tripped” and fell down a flight of stairs, she accused me of pushing him. When he had a manic episode and was found scrubbing the floors in the middle of the night, she said I had bullied him into it. It wasn’t just her. As Lysander’s “misfortunes” piled up, everyone began to see me as the villain, jealous of his closeness to Seraphina. They all seemed to have forgotten that I was the one betrothed to her. Worried the chains weren’t enough, Rhea placed a paralysis sigil on my chest. She dusted off her hands. “There. Don’t be so upset, Caden. I’ll keep you company today.” I was so frantic I could have wept. “Rhea, I’ll stay with you, I promise! Just… just go back to the Citadel and look! Please! If you’re too late, it won’t just be Aethelgard that falls, the mortal realms will be plunged into chaos!” Despite my repeated, desperate pleas, she stood firm. “No. Seraphina said she’s planning a firework display from the top of the Citadel for Lysander tonight. I have to take you somewhere else.” As the words left her mouth, the jade pendants we all wore at our waists began to chime violently. Clang, clang, clang! The color drained from Rhea’s face. The Citadel Jade trembles for only one reason. The Great Ward of Aethelgard, the unbreakable shield of the Order, had been shattered.

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The day I was supposed to marry Jimmy, he ran off with Sienna, the one he always said was his soulmate. As if to taunt me, he’d send a postcard from every new city they visited—a picture of the two of them, smiling and carefree. I was getting a manicure and enjoying macarons flown in from Paris when their ninety-ninth postcard arrived. I tossed it in the trash without a second glance. Just then, after three years of silence, Jimmy stormed back into my life. He pointed a trembling finger at my wedding photo—the one with my actual husband—and roared, “How dare you cheat on me with some bastard while I was gone!” I couldn’t help but laugh. “What are you talking about? My husband and I have been married for three years.” I raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. “Jimmy, you didn’t actually think I’d be waiting for you, did you?” 01 Jimmy’s eyes bulged. “You think I’ll believe that pathetic excuse?” he snarled, grabbing my arm. “Tell me! Who’s the lowlife you’ve been shacking up with? I’ll make you both pay!” He yanked so hard I heard a sickening pop in my shoulder, and a sharp pain shot through me. My mother-in-law, hearing the commotion, came out. Seeing a strange man gripping my arm, she rushed forward. “Who are you? Let go of her immediately!” Jimmy glanced at the simply dressed older woman and instantly dismissed her as our housekeeper. He shoved her hard, sending her stumbling to the ground. “Get lost, old hag. This is between me and her.” “Mom!” I cried out, watching her fall. “Are you okay?” Hearing me call her ‘Mom’ stopped Jimmy cold for a second, then the fury in his eyes intensified. His grip on my arm became a vise. “Mom? That’s your mother? And here I thought you’d landed someone important.” He sneered, his gaze sweeping over her plain clothes. “Judging by how ragged she looks, your new man must be a real loser.” Tears of pain streamed down my face. A dark, ugly bruise was already forming on my arm. “Are you insane? You vanished for three years! You abandoned me without a word, and now you have the gall to come back and act like this?” “And don’t you forget,” I choked out, “we never even had the ceremony. We were never legally married!” My words seemed to stun him for a moment. Then, he started dragging me out of the house. “Everyone knows our families were arranging a merger! You think you can just say we weren’t married?” he spat. “This mansion is mine! You moved your boy toy in here and you dare to talk back to me? You’ve got some nerve!” He dragged me all the way from our private estate to the main intersection, stopping in the middle of the street where the most people were gathered. “Chloe Winters!” he bellowed, making a public spectacle. “You couldn’t even wait for me to be out of the country before you started sleeping around! You have no shame!” “This mansion is mine! I want you out, and you’re going to pay me five million dollars in rent for the past three years!” he screamed. “If you don’t, I’ll make sure you and the entire Winters family become the laughingstock of this city!” Through the crowd, I spotted a familiar figure. Sienna. She was smirking at me, her eyes filled with triumph and contempt. A bitter laugh escaped my lips. He had humiliated me when he left, and now he was back to do it all over again. The whole point of our arranged marriage was to save my family’s business. I thought marrying him would secure the investment we desperately needed. But he left, the money never came, and my family’s company went bankrupt. The people living in this neighborhood were all from high society. Hearing Jimmy’s tirade, they were already whispering, their minds made up. “No wonder she’s such a recluse. She’s been hiding her lover in there!” “I thought she was somebody special. Turns out she’s just a gold-digging tramp living off her man’s money.” 02 Just then, my mother-in-law limped out, clutching her back, her face a mask of fury. “You let her go this instant!” she yelled at Jimmy. “Just wait until my son gets home. You’ll regret this!” “Chloe, don’t be afraid. Mom will protect you.” Her words only enraged Jimmy further. He sneered and gave my arm another vicious tug, dragging me a few feet across the rough pavement. “You’re threatening me, you old crow? I don’t care who your son is! You’re squatting in my house! Pack your things and get the hell out!” The sharp gravel scraped my legs raw, leaving bloody trails on the asphalt. “Jimmy, this house is mine!” I cried out. “Go home and ask your parents what really happened after you left!” I tried to warn him. “Let me go, right now, or I swear you’ll be sorry! She’s not my housekeeper! You have no idea who you’re messing with!” Before he could respond, Sienna pushed her way through the crowd. She shot me a venomous look and kicked me squarely in the chest. “You little slut, stop your pathetic crying!” she shrieked. “Are you trying to seduce the rich men around here? Cheating on Jimmy with one man isn’t enough for you? You have to flaunt yourself in public?” A wave of pain radiated from my chest, and it felt like a ball of cotton was lodged in my throat. Seeing Sienna attack me, my mother-in-law threw herself over my body to shield me. “Chloe, are you okay? Just hold on, Mom will find a way to help you!” Sienna, furious that someone dared to interfere, grabbed my mother-in-law by the hair and slapped her hard across the face, again and again. “You old bitch! You really think this is your house now, don’t you?” she spat. “Forget this slut, even if that pretty-boy son of yours showed up, I’d beat him down too!” My mother-in-law stumbled back from the blows and fell to the ground, motionless. Covered in dust, her face already swelling, she looked so fragile. “Mom!” I screamed, a primal, gut-wrenching sound. I turned my head, my voice raw with fury. “Come after me! Leave my mother alone! She’s over sixty years old! Are you even human?” My words only seemed to provoke Jimmy. He grabbed me by the hair, ripped the belt from his pants, and began whipping me with it. I collapsed to the ground, the world blurring into a kaleidoscope of pain and moving shadows. I was going to die here. I closed my eyes, surrendering to the darkness. Suddenly, a man’s voice cut through the chaos. “Hey! Stop that!” A burly-looking man from the crowd had stepped forward. Jimmy glanced at him, a scornful laugh escaping his lips. “What, are you one of her clients too? You seem awfully concerned. She must be great in bed, huh? You’re all lining up for her!” He turned to the watching socialites. “You ladies better watch out! This woman will sleep with anyone. She’ll steal your husbands right out from under you!” His words hit their mark. The few sympathetic glances I’d received turned icy cold, replaced with looks of disgust. The man stood between me and Jimmy. “Sir, you need to watch your mouth. No matter what, you can’t just beat a woman in the street!” Jimmy’s eyes darted between me and the man. Then, with a roar, he punched the man in the face, knocking him down and climbing on top of him, raining down blow after blow. “You think you can scare me? I’m going to kill both of you today, you cheating whore and your pathetic lover!” 03 I blinked, my vision swimming. The kind stranger’s face was already a mess of blood and bruises. “Stop… don’t hurt innocent people,” I rasped. “Do what you want… to me.” Jimmy sneered and stalked toward me. He planted his foot on my face, grinding his heel into my cheek. “Don’t worry. I won’t let him off the hook. Or this old hag,” he said, gesturing to my mother-in-law. “You’re all trash. I’m going to enjoy taking my time with you for squatting in my house!” Then, he and Sienna were on top of us, slapping us relentlessly. I felt a tooth loosen. My mother-in-law, barely conscious, was no match for Sienna. Her face was quickly covered in blood, her head lolling limply to the side. Seeing her like that, I panicked. The shock and lack of air triggered my asthma. “Please…” I wheezed, clawing at my throat. “My… my inhaler…” I couldn’t feel the pain anymore. All I knew was the terrifying sensation of being unable to breathe. Jimmy ripped my hand away, rummaged through my pocket, and found my emergency inhaler. He threw it as far as he could. “You want your medicine?” he sneered. “Stop the act. I never knew you had asthma.” Sienna leaned against him, laughing. “Jimmy, honey, she cheated on you. Why should we care if she lives or dies? If she dies, it’s just God punishing her for being a slut.” As if on cue, they grabbed me and started tearing at my clothes. “You like being a slut, don’t you? Well, today we’ll let you be a slut for everyone to see!” They ripped my blouse open, exposing my chest. I could see people in the crowd raising their phones, recording. I could barely breathe, but I kept begging. “Give me… my medicine… I’ll die…” I pleaded with Jimmy. “Please… give it to me… and I’ll forget everything that happened…” He laughed as if I’d told the world’s funniest joke and threw me back on the ground like a rag doll. “You want me to forget? I’m the one who should be settling scores with you! What a joke!” “Get out of my mansion today, and pay me my five million! Or I’ll make sure you regret it!” His eyes lingered on my exposed chest, and he licked his lips. “Damn, if I’d known you had a body like this, I would’ve taken you for a test drive before I left.” He smirked. “But it’s not too late now. You make me happy, and I’ll give you your inhaler.” He dangled the inhaler in front of my face, then scooped me up and started carrying me toward the mansion. “No! Don’t touch me! Please, let me go!” I clutched the torn fabric of my shirt, sobbing. His eyes raked over my body. “Begging me now? Too late! You just be a good girl and take care of me, and maybe I’ll forget about the three years of rent you owe.” He pressed his full weight on me, his unfamiliar scent turning my stomach. I closed my eyes in despair. Just then, a deafening car horn sliced through the air.

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