Category: English

Noah Thorne asked me if I wanted to marry him. A one-year contract marriage. The pay: one million dollars, with all daily expenses covered. I accepted with giddy excitement. But one year turned into another, and then another. Ten years passed, and he never once mentioned a divorce. Just when I started to think he might have actually fallen in love with me, he left me seventy million dollars and died. I was flooded with relief. Finally, I could live my dream life: rich, no husband, and no kids. Later, I received a box of Noah’s belongings. Inside was an AI robot dog. As a joke, I named it Noah. It said: “Karina, I’m sorry that I love you.” 1 On our tenth wedding anniversary, Noah died. Just before he passed, he asked me, “Karina, is there anything you want to say to me?” I paused for a moment, then blurted out, “Don’t forget to transfer this year’s million-dollar payment.” A man can die, but he can’t skip out on his final paycheck. When it comes to money, I’m relentless. Noah was silent for a long moment, then he suddenly smiled, a spark igniting in his clouded eyes. “Karina,” he whispered, “I love that about you. It’s good.” I tried to smile back, to joke with him like I always did. But Noah had already closed his eyes, and no matter how many times I called his name, he wouldn’t wake up. The smile froze on my face. “Goodbye, Noah.” I watched, impassive, as they wheeled him into the morgue. I went through the motions of the funeral, a perfect, grieving widow, without shedding a single tear. It was only when Noah’s younger brother, Ethan, handed me a box that my composure cracked. Inside was a debit card with a seventy-million-dollar balance and a small robot dog. My calm expression shattered, not from grief, but from pure, unadulterated joy. Noah had already paid me for the full ten years. Why would he leave me another seventy million? “All of this… for me?” Ethan nodded. “That’s what his will said.” He added, with well-meaning sympathy, “Karina, he’s gone. Try not to be too sad.” Sad? Why would I be sad? I was ecstatic! I could barely contain my laughter. I didn’t know why Noah had left me so much money. Maybe it was guilt, or pity. He was, after all, a deeply kind man. Ten years ago, I had held a knife to him and demanded money. He had just looked at me with his gentle eyes and asked, “Are you in desperate need of money? If so, I can offer you a job.” The job was to marry him. He promised he would never force me to do anything I didn’t want to. He just needed a wife in name only, to fend off his parents’ incessant matchmaking. I agreed. I didn’t care about marriage; I only cared about the money. But Noah was always apologizing. He said he was holding me back, wasting my life. He was a soft-hearted man. It made perfect sense that a man like him would leave me seventy million dollars. And since only a fool would turn down free money, I took it without a second thought. Lost in the euphoria of my newfound wealth, I completely forgot about the unassuming robot dog. Sitting alone in the vast, empty living room, I stared at my bank balance on my phone and, out of habit, asked, “Noah, what am I supposed to do with seventy million dollars?” The room was silent. And then I remembered. Noah was gone. And it was wonderful. No one to nag me anymore. No one to disapprove of my bad habits. When I first married Noah, I went on a spending spree. I’d take one bite of a cake and throw the rest away. I bought the gaudiest jewelry, the most expensive, brand-name dresses and shoes. Everyone mocked my lack of taste, and I became a source of constant embarrassment for him. But Noah never got angry. He would just check on me, his voice full of concern. “Did you eat too much? Are you feeling bloated? Do your ears hurt from those heavy earrings? Are your feet blistered from those heels?” He would gently place my feet in his lap and dab iodine on the sores. “Karina,” he’d say softly, “you have to understand. Money is for making yourself comfortable, not for making yourself miserable.” After that, he started planning my days, from my studies to my entertainment, from my diet to my exercise. He meticulously sculpted me, transforming me from a wild weed into a cultivated rose. Everyone thought he was madly in love with me, that I had won the lottery of a lifetime by marrying him. But I knew the truth. He didn’t love me. He just needed a suitable wife. And now that he was gone, I didn’t have to be Mrs. Thorne anymore. I could do whatever I wanted. 2 I went to the one place Noah hated most: a grimy, chaotic nightclub. I booked the best table, ordered the most expensive champagne, and watched the sweaty, muscular men in the boxing ring. To be honest, Noah was never my type. He was too refined, too fragile. A little exercise would leave him red-faced and gasping for breath. I preferred my men sunny and strong. I used to tease him about it all the time. “Noah, you need to work out. You need to live a long, long life.” “You want me to live a long life?” he’d ask, a strange light in his eyes. “Of course! You’re my meal ticket.” In that moment, I could have sworn I saw a flicker of something in his beautiful, almond-shaped eyes—a mixture of resignation and relief. After that, he started jogging and going to the gym with me. But he seemed to be naturally frail. No matter how hard he tried, he remained alarmingly thin. Now, I realize it was because he was sick. “Bored, beautiful? I can keep you company.” A young boxer, fresh from a win, sauntered over to my table, flexing his glistening muscles. I forced the image of Noah from my mind. He was gone. I didn’t have to adhere to the moral code of a married woman anymore. It was time to enjoy myself. I smiled and downed my drink in one gulp. The burn of the alcohol as it slid down my throat was punctuated by the whistles and catcalls from the surrounding crowd. It was a familiar symphony of chaos, vulgarity, and darkness. I was getting drunk. I pulled the young boxer down to sit beside me, my eyes hazy. “Tell me, handsome, how much for a night?” He couldn’t suppress a greedy smile, but he still feigned propriety. “I’m not like that, beautiful. I just like you.” Like. The word instantly killed my mood. I knew, with absolute certainty, that no one could ever truly like me. My mother, unable to bear our poverty, had left us. As she held me tight, her tears soaking my shoulder, she had sobbed, “Karina, my sweet Karina, as soon as Mommy has money, I’ll come back for you.” After she left, my father unleashed all his bitterness and rage on me. He rented me out to an underground boxing ring. “This girl of mine,” he’d boast, “she’s tough. You can hit her as hard as you want, she won’t break. A real bargain!” I became a human punching bag for two hundred dollars a session. There wasn’t a single inch of my body that wasn’t bruised or broken. The only time my father showed me any affection was when he collected his payment, when he would “generously” buy me a small cupcake. That’s when I understood. My father didn’t love me. He loved money. And to earn his love, I had to earn him a lot of it. After I married Noah, he was so generous with me that I had to ask. “Noah, are you giving me all this money because you want me to like you?” He had just stroked my hair and corrected me gently. “Karina, remember this: love isn’t something that can be bought or sustained with money.” I looked into his clear, honest eyes and mumbled, “I know.” And I did know. Noah Thorne didn’t want my affection. He was always so kind, so gentle. His rejection was just as soft, but it was a rejection nonetheless. I should have known better. Who would ever want the love of someone so broken? When I turned eighteen, my body had blossomed into a woman’s curves, and the looks from the men at the gym changed. Their gazes became lewd, their touches exploratory and disgusting. I begged my father to take me away, but he was too busy counting his money. I tried to run, but the owner of the gym caught me. His face was a mask of lust as he lunged at me. 3 He was overconfident. He forgot that being able to take a punch meant I also knew how to throw one. As he tore at my pants, I delivered a crippling blow to his groin. I ran to the police station and reported him. He was sentenced to three years in prison. But my reputation was ruined. I was kicked out of the gym. With no more liquor money coming in, my father’s abuse escalated. “You’re a slut, just like your mother!” he’d scream. “It’s your fault for having a body like that! You’re a shameless whore, seducing married men!” Even my own father said it. So, of course, everyone else believed it. They spat on me, beat me, drove me out of town. I had no education, no skills, and a body covered in hideous scars. No one would hire me. So I found work as a bouncer at a nightclub. I thought time and distance could bury the ugliness of my past. So when a coworker confessed his feelings, promising me a home, a normal life with marriage and children, I gambled. I gave him all my savings, believing he was sincere. He took the money and left, running away with the girl he truly loved. I overheard him later, talking to a friend. “That freak? Being liked by her is disgusting. If it wasn’t for her money, I wouldn’t have even bothered to pretend.” That’s when I finally understood. No one wanted my heart. Not my father. Not my coworker. And not Noah. I hate the word “like.” I smashed my glass on the floor. The young boxer at my side went pale. “This is so boring,” I muttered. I stumbled out of the club and into a taxi. The moment I got home, I went straight to the bathroom to wash off the stench of smoke and alcohol. Otherwise, Noah would find out and start nagging me again. He was like an old man, always gently but relentlessly trying to correct my bad habits. I realized I had forgotten to grab a change of clothes. “Noah,” I called out automatically, “can you bring me my pajamas?” Silence. I froze, the washcloth still in my hand. How could I have forgotten again? He was gone. The first time I came home drunk after we were married, I was a complete mess. I had thrown up all over myself. It was Noah who cleaned me up. When I realized what was happening, I instinctively tried to cover myself. “Noah… is it ugly?” I whispered. I knew how hideous my body was. The scars disgusted even me. But Noah just gently touched the scar on my brow, then pulled me into his arms. He bathed me with a tenderness I had never known, dried me off, and helped me into my pajamas. “Karina,” he said softly, “your body isn’t a test to be graded. Do you understand?” I looked at him, confused. “It belongs to you. You can use it to feel the warmth of the sun, to enjoy the thrill of running, to taste delicious food… Karina, don’t ever judge yourself through someone else’s eyes.” It was the first time anyone had ever said anything like that to me. It was the first time someone had looked at my body without a trace of disgust. On impulse, I leaned in and kissed him. It was quick, light as a feather, almost a mistake. But to Noah, it was a grave error. For the first time, I saw anger and frustration on his gentle face, mixed with an emotion I couldn’t decipher. In that instant, the warmth that had been blooming in my chest turned to ice. How could I have forgotten? He didn’t want my love. But he was so kind, so gentle, that he was constantly, unintentionally, pulling me in. This was wrong. I pretended it had been an accident, a slip. “This tub is so slippery,” I joked. “I almost chipped a tooth. You’re going to have to pay me extra for this.” Noah, ever the good sport, just nodded. “Okay. Whatever you say.”

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1 On the way to the hospital for a placental abruption, our car collided head-on with a wedding limousine. I was thrown from the vehicle, a pool of blood spreading beneath me. Through a haze of pain, I watched my husband, Ethan, ignore me completely. Instead, he cradled another woman in his arms, whispering to the driver, “Just run her over. The payout for a fatality is less.” As he spoke, the car lurched forward, straight towards me. I was run over, again and again, until my legs went numb. During the emergency surgery, my husband’s phone was unreachable. But he was there, sitting in the hospital corridor just outside. I could still hear his voice, laced with a chilling relief. “It’s for the best if they can’t reach me. If she dies, we pay less.” … “The patient is in her third trimester. The impact from the collision has made her condition critical. There’s no time to wait for family consent. Page every available doctor to the OR now.” “And get on the phone with every hospital in the city. We need blood reserves on standby in case things go south.” I could hear the head surgeon barking orders, but Ethan, my husband whose phone was perpetually off, paid me no mind. His hands were clasped tightly around the hand of the woman in the wedding dress. “It’s okay,” he murmured to her, his voice a tender caress. “I’m here.” The woman was trembling, but Ethan’s only response was a dismissive, “It’s not that serious. Every woman has babies. If something happens to her, it’s just her bad luck.” In that moment, I almost hated the hyper-acute hearing that comes before death. It allowed me to hear every curse Ethan uttered against me and our unborn child. He wanted us both dead, a neat and tidy tragedy closed with a small payout. If my family tried to make a scene, he had a team of lawyers ready to handle it. In the end, I would be nothing but a box of ashes. Throughout the entire ordeal, he never once came over to even check if it was me, even though I was lying right in front of him, carrying his child. A single glance would have been enough. But he just said the sight of me was too disgusting, that the fat spilling from my wounds would upset the woman in white. He covered her eyes and led her away to a bench far from the chaos. In that instant, every illusion I held about Ethan shattered. The man who had wept with joy when I told him I was pregnant, the man who called everyone he knew to say that marrying me was the happiest day of his life—that man was dead. A minute before the nurses wheeled me into surgery, I saw Ethan’s parents rushing into the hospital. They didn’t run towards me. They ran to Ethan and the woman. His mother’s voice was frantic. “What happened? Are you hurt? Daisy, you can’t get hurt! How would your godmother ever explain it to your mom?” And then she started to cry. The way she held that woman felt so foreign, so strange. The image was burned into my mind even as my vision blurred and the world faded to black. The lights in the operating room were terrifyingly cold, hanging like pale ghosts above me. I could hear the hushed whispers of the doctors and the orderly clatter of instruments as the nurses counted them out. “Massive blood loss. The placenta is exposed. We need to perform an emergency C-section, but we risk a fatal hemorrhage…” “Has anyone been able to contact the patient’s family?” “No. The husband’s phone is still off. We can’t get through to anyone else.” A heavy sigh followed that announcement. A nurse added, “The patient was in a taxi on her way to an appointment when she noticed signs of placental abruption. The collision with the wedding car happened on her way here.” “She’s this far along and her family let her take a taxi by herself? What were they thinking?” Then the anesthesia took hold, and I sank into unconsciousness. I don’t know how difficult the surgery was. I only know that when I woke up again, the room was filled with exclamations of awe. “It’s a miracle. A genuine miracle. To wake up after losing that much blood…” After the head surgeon confirmed my condition was stable, he had me sign the consent forms myself. As I signed, I glanced at the time. A full week had passed. I looked at the surgeon. “My husband?” 2 “We were never able to get in touch with your husband.” A bitter laugh escaped my lips. Never able to get in touch… what a joke. Then, the doctor’s expression turned somber. “The baby was born alive,” he said gently, “but he was born with… complications. He passed away two days ago.” Clatter. The pen fell from my hand. I grabbed the doctor’s arm, my voice a choked sob. “I… I want to see him.” The doctor exchanged a look with the nurses. They decided to let me. They placed me in a wheelchair and slowly pushed me out of the room, down the long corridor to the hospital morgue. He was in a small, refrigerated drawer. When they pulled it open, I saw his tiny hands, clenched into tight fists. He looked exactly as I had imagined: a perfect, high nose, a small mouth, a dusting of soft, light hair, and faint, golden eyebrows. I reached out to hold him. My fingers met only ice-cold stillness. It was only when I touched him that I saw the stitches on his tiny arm. The doctor explained softly, “During the accident… when you were run over repeatedly… the child was born with his limbs already…” I looked up at him, the meaning crashing down on me. My baby, born alive, had been born with severed limbs. Even if he had survived, he would have been disabled for life. In that moment, the dam broke. I had been trying to steel myself, to accept his death. But I couldn’t accept this. Every single one of my prenatal check-ups had been perfect. The doctors had all said he was developing beautifully. And he had been born… in pieces. No mother could remain calm in the face of such a horror. Ignoring the protests of my own healing body, I insisted on holding him. The cold of his tiny form was shocking, but in my mind, I could still hear his cry, still feel his little hand gripping my hair. Of course, it was all a fantasy. The next thing I knew, I was being carried back to my room by the nurses, having cried myself into a dead faint. I don’t know how many times I wept in that room. It was only when the police came to ask about the details of the accident that I found my voice again. “It was them!” I screamed. “They said it would be cheaper to kill me than to pay for injuries!” “Do you have any proof?” I shook my head. I had been pinned, helpless. How could I have proof? The officer then told me that according to the traffic cameras, I was the one who had run the red light. Worse, while I was still in surgery, Ethan had already taken the woman, Daisy, on a honeymoon. He had left everything in the hands of his lawyer. When the lawyer saw me, he froze. “Mrs. Thorne! What… how are you…?” His eyes widened in realization. “So, the pregnant woman Mr. Thorne’s car hit was… you?” I nodded weakly. The lawyer sat down awkwardly. When I insisted, for the third time, that he contact Ethan, he finally sighed. “It’s no use. Mr. Thorne has his phone turned off. He said he wants to give Ms. Daisy his undivided attention, to make up for her last birthday, which was ruined.” Ms. Daisy. So, the woman in the wedding dress was Daisy. The one I had only met a few times. His childhood friend, Daisy Shen. Her last birthday? Was that the day I found out I was pregnant? I had called Ethan home. I’d then received a furious call from Daisy, screaming that I had stolen her “Ethan” and ruined her birthday. Even Ethan’s parents had berated me, calling me petty and demanding I apologize to her. It was then that I learned the truth. Daisy’s parents lived abroad, and Ethan’s parents had raised her. Growing up, everyone had assumed she would be Ethan’s wife, their future daughter-in-law. Until I came along. Ethan had fallen head over heels for me, insisted on marrying me, and thrown all their plans into disarray. 3 For that, his entire family blamed me. On our wedding day, Daisy had even attempted suicide. She was revived, but the message was clear. And this time, according to the lawyer, Daisy had wanted a grand, fairytale wedding for her twenty-fifth birthday, with Ethan as the groom. So the whole family had conspired to lie to me. They left me, on the verge of giving birth, at home alone while they all went off to celebrate Daisy’s sham wedding. Even Ethan’s closest friends were there. Everyone knew. And no one thought it was wrong. They all kept the secret from me. Thinking of this, I couldn’t help but laugh. A hollow, broken sound. After explaining, the lawyer presented me with the compensation agreement Ethan had drawn up for the accident. “Mr. Thorne was unaware that the victim was you at the time. This settlement is based on standard legal procedure. Please, take a look…” he said, his voice trailing off. “And this is the compensation claim Mr. Thorne is making against you… of course, since you are currently married, I will hold onto this for now.” I scanned the pages, one by one. The lawyer, trying to lighten the mood, glanced at the baby clothes by my bed. “Ma’am, how is the little one doing?” “Stone dead.” The words hung in the air. The lawyer stared at me, stunned. I finished reading and tossed the file aside. “I reject all of these terms. I will be filing a lawsuit. You may leave.” Not long after the lawyer left, my phone, against all odds, rang. I thought it was the lawyer, that he had finally reached Ethan. I answered, only to hear Daisy’s voice. “Sister-in-law,” she chirped, “I just made a birthday wish, and Ethan promised he would make it come true. Can you guess what it was?” I didn’t answer. She chuckled softly. “What’s wrong? Are you sad your baby died?” In that instant, every hair on my body stood on end. She knew. She knew it was me. “I knew it was you all along,” she purred. “That’s why I deliberately called Ethan away. It’s what you deserve for ruining my last birthday. Besides, if Ethan really loved you, why wouldn’t he answer your messages? Why wouldn’t he pick up your calls?” Just as she finished, another voice came from her end of the line. It was Ethan. “Daisy, I have to go back. Your sister-in-law is pregnant, and I’m worried about her. Especially after… after hitting that woman. I just have this bad feeling.” “Ethan, just one more day. Please? Are you going to abandon your Daisy?” I heard Ethan hesitate. I hung up the phone. A day later, I was lying in my hospital bed, waiting for the doctor’s check-up, when I heard a commotion outside. Ethan was back. He was with his parents. “Son, you’re finally back! Can we turn our phones back on now?” “You have no idea, the baby of that woman you hit was torn to pieces. I was so worried something had happened to Chloe, but I was afraid to call and ruin your plans. I’ve been waiting for so long.” “I wonder what kind of soulless thing that woman’s family did for her baby to die so horribly, born without its limbs.” As his mother’s words faded, I pushed open my door. “Yes,” I said, my voice echoing in the hallway. “I wonder what kind of soullless thing they did, for the baby to be born without limbs, with his intestines spilling out…” 4 The moment our eyes met, Ethan froze. After repeatedly confirming with the doctors and nurses that the pregnant woman he had run over again and again was, in fact, me, he suddenly collapsed to his knees. His parents, who had just been mocking me for losing my child, calling it my karma, went visibly pale with shock when they realized that child was the grandchild they had been so eagerly awaiting. Ethan was a crumpled heap on the floor. It took a sedative injection to get him calm enough to lie down. “I didn’t know it was you,” he whispered, trying to take my hand. “I… I really didn’t know.” He stammered, but that was all he could manage to say. He didn’t know. Right. He hadn’t even bothered to look. When I was on the ground, begging for help, he was the one who suggested running me over. And now he wanted to pass it all off as a tragic accident. His eyes were red-rimmed as he slowly pushed himself up. He looked at me. “Chloe, at the time, I was just thinking of the simplest solution. It wasn’t that I actually wanted you to die. You used to be a lawyer, you know how these things work, car accidents…” He trailed off, unable to finish the sentence. Yes. As a lawyer, I knew he had made a calculated decision. But he saw that I was pregnant, and he still made that choice. He ran me over without a shred of mercy, even as I screamed for help, even as I begged. I remembered it all. It was seared into my brain, a memory I could never erase. His parents sat nearby, their eyes now filled with a simmering resentment directed at me. Ethan’s mother spoke first. “Can’t you even carry a baby properly? Ethan is gone for one week, and you manage to screw everything up, even get the baby killed. Chloe! Our family is cursed to have a daughter-in-law like you.” “We were just helping Daisy celebrate her birthday. We were gone for a short time, and you deliberately cause trouble. Tell me, did you do this on purpose? Did you want to use the baby to punish us?” Her words twisted everything, placing all the blame on my shoulders. Their celebrating with Daisy was perfectly reasonable, but my losing the baby was a malicious act on my part. “Was it just a celebration?” I asked, my eyes locked on Ethan. A fresh love bite was visible on his neck, not even bothering to be concealed. The ring on his finger wasn’t our wedding band. He fumbled with it, trying to pull it off, but it was stuck. Just then, Daisy burst into the room. She rushed to Ethan’s side, pressing his hand down to stop him from removing the ring.

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For the holidays, my mother booked me a flight to visit the underprivileged student she’d been sponsoring for years. It was supposed to be a nice gesture, a chance to spread some holiday cheer. The moment I stepped off the plane, the student and his friends ambushed me, stealing my phone, my wallet, and all my identification. Then they dragged me to a godforsaken compound in the middle of nowhere and threw me in a cell. I wept, begging him to let me go, pleading with him to remember my mother’s kindness. But he just laughed and told me I was my mother’s gift to him. A New Year’s present. I was trapped, hopeless. Then, a commotion outside my cell. The boss of the entire operation was making his New Year’s rounds, inspecting his territory. I caught a glimpse of him through the crack in the door. My heart stopped. It was my father. My father, who had been missing for five years, the man who had loved me more than life itself. 1 “Dad!” I screamed with every ounce of strength I had, just as the door was closing. But the student, whose name was Jack, was faster. He clamped a hand over my mouth while another one of his thugs kicked me square in the chest. A spray of blood erupted from my mouth. I felt something shatter inside me, a wave of agony that stole my breath and my voice. “What the hell are you screaming about?” the thug snarled. “Trying to claim you know the boss? You got a death wish?” My vision swam. Through the haze of pain, I saw my father’s back as he walked away, surrounded by his entourage, completely oblivious to my cry for help. “She’s got a strong set of lungs on her,” Jack said with a cruel smirk. “Let’s starve her for three days. That should quiet her down.” He crouched down, his face inches from mine. “My godmother told me her daughter was a top student, real pretty. Said men fall all over themselves for her. The perfect bait for a honey-trap scam.” I couldn’t process it. These words couldn’t have come from my mother. In the lonely, rain-swept nights after my father disappeared, she would hold me and tell me I was the only thing she had left in this world. How could she give away her only treasure? “No,” I rasped, my voice barely a whisper. “My mom would never do that.” Jack grabbed a fistful of my hair, yanking my head back. “Open your damn eyes and see the truth.” His voice dropped to a possessive growl. “I’m a hell of a lot more important to your mother than you are. Every single night since your deadbeat dad vanished, I’m the one who’s kept her company.” He shoved his phone in my face, forcing me to read his chat history with my mother. She called him ‘baby.’ She asked when he was coming to spend the holidays with her. Jack had replied that he hadn’t met his quota yet; he was one body short and couldn’t leave. And my mother’s reply: Then I’ll just send you my daughter to make up the numbers. Jack’s response: You’re a wicked woman. I like that. I squeezed my eyes shut, a wave of despair washing over me. The woman who had called me her precious daughter, her everything, was this cold, ruthless monster. She had sold her own child, the daughter she’d raised for twenty years, just to please her lover. The betrayal was a pain far sharper than any physical blow. It coiled in my gut, a grief so profound I curled into a ball on the filthy floor and sobbed. My only hope of escape was my father. I had to find a way to see him. Jack was about to leave the reeking, blood-spattered room when I shot out a hand and grabbed his ankle. “Jack, please, just let me see your boss. I’m telling you the truth, I’m his daughter. His name is Silas. My name is Stella!” Jack and the two hulking guards at the door burst into mocking laughter. “You’re really desperate, aren’t you? Yeah, the boss’s name is Silas. But he doesn’t have a daughter. Never has.” How could I prove it? My mind raced. Then, I remembered. The scar on his chin. “My dad has a scar on his chin! He got it saving me when I almost fell off a ski lift!” One of the guards froze. He leaned in and whispered something in Jack’s ear. “Jack, the boss really does have a scar on his chin. You don’t think…?” “Lots of people have scars! I’ve got one!” Jack tilted his head back to show them, then his eyes narrowed with sudden rage. “Stella, are you playing games with us?” He stomped his foot down hard on my hand, grinding it into the concrete floor. The agony was excruciating, a white-hot scream tearing from my throat. 2 One of the guards joined in, kicking me repeatedly in the stomach. “You little bitch, trying to scare us?” “Let’s see how you like being played with!” He produced a long, wicked-looking needle from his pocket. He grabbed my other hand, the one pinned under Jack’s boot, and without hesitation, plunged the needle deep into the soft flesh under my fingernail. A piercing shriek echoed through the corridor. Instinct took over. I flailed, my free hand beating against Jack’s leg. “You dare to hit me? I’ll show you what happens when you fight back!” He lifted his other foot and brought it crashing down on my struggling hand. Jack was a big man, and his full weight came down on the fingers I used to play the piano. Crack. Crack. I heard the sickening snap of bones. The pain was blinding. My body convulsed, drenched in a cold sweat. I was losing consciousness. Suddenly, a sharp knock echoed on the heavy door. “Jack, stop! The boss is making his New Year’s rounds. He doesn’t want to see any blood today. He’s on his way here now.” The voice was… familiar. Jack and the guard tensed. “Jack, we can’t screw this up. The boss is ruthless. If we piss him off, we’re dead.” I could hear footsteps approaching from the hallway. It was my father. He was coming. This was my only chance. The primal urge to survive surged through me. As Jack and the guard opened the door to leave, I scrambled to my feet. I kicked Jack hard in the back, sending him stumbling forward, and scrambled through the gap he’d created. The moment I burst out of the room, the sunlight was so bright it was blinding. I squinted, my eyes barely able to open. Through the sliver of vision, I saw him. My father, not far away, shaking hands with one of his men, a glass of wine in his hand. I summoned every last bit of my strength and screamed, “Dad! Help me!” The next second, my voice was muffled. Jack, clutching his back, had scrambled to his feet. He clamped a hand over my mouth and dragged me back into the dark, hopeless room. “You little shit! You think you can trick me?” “Looks like I didn’t hit you hard enough!” My hands were useless. I could only kick and buck, finally managing to head-butt him hard enough to make his nose bleed. “Dad!” I screamed again. I saw my father turn, his head tilting as if he’d heard something. And then, a heavy object crashed against the back of my head. The world went black. When I woke up, every inch of my body was a landscape of pain. I was covered in a warm, sticky film of my own blood. I was back in the cell. Jack and the guards were gone, probably outside waiting for my father. “Dad!” I cried out, my voice raw. “Come save me! It’s Stella!” I used my elbows to drag myself across the floor to the door and started kicking it with my feet. My hands were broken, useless. But the sound of my foot hitting the metal door was loud, thunderous. He would have to hear it. And he did. The next moment, I heard his voice, a voice I hadn’t heard in five long years, from just outside the door. “What’s going on? Who’s that yelling for their dad?” “It’s nothing, boss,” Jack’s voice answered smoothly. “The new ones are always like this. Crying for their mommy and daddy.” “This one’s just particularly unruly. See? She broke my nose. Went against your ‘no blood’ rule for the new year.” “You go on and greet the others, boss. I’ll go shut her up.” The door flew open, slamming into me and knocking me to the ground. “I told you to shut your goddamn mouth!” Jack dragged me by the hair to a small table in the center of the room. The guard pried my mouth open and forced me to bite down on the corner of the table. Then, the guard’s thick, powerful hand slammed down on the back of my head. Again and again. Blood filled my mouth, dammed up by the table’s edge. I felt my teeth crack, and I swallowed the broken pieces. I couldn’t make a sound anymore, my tongue felt like it had been shredded. 3 Jack spat on my face. “There. Nice and quiet now.” I lay on the floor, a broken, bleeding mess, only able to make soft, whimpering sounds of agony. I couldn’t say his name anymore. “Tie her up. Put a bag over her head. I’m sick of looking at her face.” Just as they finished binding my hands and feet and pulling a black hood over my head, my father’s voice filled the doorway again. “I thought I said no blood on New Year’s. What is all this?” Dad! It’s me! It’s your Stella! But I couldn’t speak. I could only writhe on the floor like a worm as my blood soaked through the hood and dripped onto the concrete. I was so close. So close to the father I had missed for five agonizing years. “It’s the new year,” my father said, his voice cold. “I don’t want to have to kill anyone today. You two, watch yourselves. If I see something like this again, there will be consequences.” “Yes, yes, of course, boss.” He was leaving. Again. We were so close, yet a world apart. I was truly going to die here. “What’s wrong with you two?” the familiar voice from before spoke again. “Didn’t I tell you to stop?” Jack, furious, kicked me again in the stomach. I could only curl into a ball, whimpering. “Sir,” Jack said, his voice full of false deference. “This woman is insane. She keeps insisting the boss is her father.” “I’ve been in this compound for years. The boss has never even had a woman, let alone a grown daughter! She’s just trying to escape.” The man’s voice sharpened with alarm. “Take the hood off her. Now!” Jack hesitated, then ripped the black cloth from my head. “You goddamn idiot!” The man roared, his voice filled with fury. He kicked Jack so hard in the stomach that he crumpled to the floor, unable to get up. “She is the boss’s daughter! That’s Stella!” My vision was a blur of blood and tears. I forced my eyes open, trying to focus on the man standing before me. And my dead heart lurched back to life. It was my father’s best friend. My Uncle John. He had known me since I was a child. He would save me. He had to. A sob broke from my throat. Uncle John, please, help me. But the next words out of his mouth shattered my last sliver of hope. “Shave her head. Now. We can’t let the boss recognize her.” His voice was cold, pragmatic. “If he does, everything we’ve built for years will be destroyed.” Without a word, Jack grabbed a pair of clippers and began shearing off my hair. Uncle John crouched in front of me, studying my face intently. “It’s not enough. You can still tell it’s her. You’ll have to cut up her face.” “But sir,” Jack protested, “we were going to use her for the honey trap.” “Is your life more important, or the money?” John snarled. “Do as I say!” Jack took a blade and began to carve into my face. The sharp steel bit deep into my skin, and hot blood streamed down my ruined cheeks. I was unrecognizable, my breath coming in shallow, ragged gasps. “That should do it,” John said. Then, as if struck by a thought, he grabbed my ankle. His eyes fell on the silver locket tied with a red string. It was a gift from my father on my twelfth birthday. A good luck charm. In the center, he had carved a single star. It was his blessing, his wish that I would live a life of peace and happiness. “Are you trying to get us all killed?” John hissed. “Why didn’t you get rid of this?” He ripped the locket from my ankle and tossed it to a guard. “Be smart about it. Don’t just throw it away in the compound. If the boss finds it, he’ll have your head.” “Yes, sir!” But the guard had barely taken five steps when a chilling voice stopped him in his tracks.

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1 The nanny wanted to become the lady of the house. She secretly taught my son to call her “Grandma.” She was always lecturing me like a mother-in-law, pushing me to have a second child. “If a woman doesn’t have children, is she even a woman?” she’d say. When I finally had enough and tried to throw her out, she declared with arrogant pride, “You’re the one who should get lost. I’m Asher’s real mother!” My husband and I stared at each other, utterly horrified. “Since when,” we both stammered, “was he an illegitimate child?” … I got off work early and went to pick up my three-year-old son, Finn, from his preschool. As I approached the school gate, I saw our nanny, Mrs. Quinn, holding his hand. She held a lollipop in front of him, her face a mask of grandmotherly affection. “Finn, darling, what did I teach you to call me yesterday?” Finn hesitated. Mrs. Quinn dangled the lollipop tantalizingly. “Grandma!” he chirped immediately. “That’s right! Grandma’s good boy! Here you go.” Watching this exchange, my face went cold. Mrs. Quinn was a long-time fixture in my husband Asher’s family. She hadn’t just raised Asher; she had once saved his life. Now, she had volunteered to look after our son, Finn. The entire family respected her deeply. But my relationship with her was… strained. It had gotten particularly bad about a month ago, when Asher and I decided to enroll Finn in an early education program. When Mrs. Quinn found out, she cornered me. “Zoey,” she said, her tone casual but her eyes sharp, “Finn is three now. Don’t you think it’s time for you and Asher to start thinking about a second child?” I was completely blindsided. Asher’s parents had divorced years ago. I had no mother-in-law. Since marrying into the Vance family, Mrs. Quinn had taken it upon herself to act as the family matriarch, constantly lecturing me. Asher respected her, and since her meddling was usually minor, I let it slide. But now she had crossed a line, pushing me about having more children. I didn’t bother to hide my displeasure. “Mrs. Quinn, that is not your place to ask.” She ignored my irritation. “I know you young people are shy about these things. But having babies is a race against time. A woman over thirty has a much harder time conceiving.” Her voice warmed to her subject. “Where I come from, a woman should have at least three to five children. And it’s best if they’re all boys.” As her pronouncements grew more and more outrageous, I raised my voice to cut her off. “Mrs. Quinn, let’s be clear. You are a nanny. That’s all.” Even Asher’s own mother had never pressured me. Seeing the anger in my eyes, Mrs. Quinn finally, reluctantly, fell silent. But I never imagined she’d hold such a grudge. A nanny, secretly coaching my son to call her “Grandma.” If any of our friends heard that, they’d think I was cheating on Asher! 2 I suppressed my fury, forced a pleasant expression onto my face, and walked over. I buckled Finn into his car seat first. Then I turned to Mrs. Quinn, my face a cold mask. “Mrs. Quinn, a person should know their place,” I said, my voice low and even. “I shouldn’t have to teach you what you should and shouldn’t do, should I?” I was giving her one last chance to save face by not spelling it out. But she didn’t take it. She jutted out her chin and reprimanded me. “Zoey Vance, is that any way to speak to an elder? I raised Asher. He’s like a son to me. In the old days, I would have been his wet nurse. It’s only right that Finn calls me ‘Grandma’!” She sniffed. “It’s just like I thought. Someone from a common family like yours has no manners.” I was floored. What kind of twisted logic was that? By her reasoning, if she nannied for a few more families, she’d have children all over the city. I was done arguing. I held up my phone. “I wonder what Asher will think when he finds out he has a new mother.” The Vances treated their staff well, but not so well that they’d let a nanny walk all over them. Thinking I had recorded her, Mrs. Quinn’s face finally changed. Her tone softened, and she mumbled an apology. “Don’t let it happen again,” I said coldly. … Later that evening, I was still mulling over Mrs. Quinn’s recent behavior. When I first married Asher, she had been respectful, keeping to her duties. That all changed about a month into our marriage, when she found Asher in the kitchen late at night, making me a snack. The look on her face had curdled instantly. The next day, while Asher was at work, she confronted me. “Zoey, you have a perfectly good pair of hands and feet. How could you order Asher around like that?” I was baffled. “He’s my husband. Making me a bowl of noodles is hardly ‘ordering him around.’” “No, no, no,” she corrected me, her expression deadly serious. “It is the natural order of things for a woman to serve a man. Besides,” she added, her voice dropping conspiratorially, “Asher is the heir to the Vance family! If people found out he was waiting on you, they’d laugh him out of town!” I was stunned by her archaic mindset. What century was she living in? She was a relic from a bygone era. I tried to reason with her, my temper still in check. “Mrs. Quinn, it’s not ‘waiting on me.’ It’s called taking care of each other. That’s what married couples do.” She just sighed and shook her head. “A girl from a common family. You’ll never understand. The Vances are a prominent family. You can’t compare them to common folk. I think you should quit your job and learn how to be a proper wife.” 3 Before I could protest, she shoved a pile of laundry into my arms. It was Asher’s from the day before. “From now on, you will be washing all of Asher’s clothes,” she instructed. “His underwear and socks must be washed by hand. And when he leaves for work in the morning, you must be up to see him off.” She paused, then added, “That three-thousand-a-month job of yours is pointless. Just quit and focus on taking care of Asher at home. The most important thing now is to get pregnant.” I stared at her, dumbfounded, as she prattled on. This fossil wasn’t going to be reasoned with. So, I threw the clothes right back at her. Especially the two smelly socks. They hit her squarely on the head and face. The pungent odor of a man’s sweaty feet is not a pleasant one. Mrs. Quinn shrieked like a scalded chicken. “Zoey Vance!” I just shrugged, a cold smile on my face. “Whoever wants to wash them can wash them. I’m not doing it.” That was our first major confrontation. I told Asher about it that night. He promised to talk to her, reminding me that she was a long-time family employee and deserved another chance. Of course, he said, if I wanted her gone, she’d be gone. But we were newly married, and I didn’t want to cause a huge scene. I relented. After that, Mrs. Quinn seemed to understand that I wasn’t a pushover, and she backed off. Until I got pregnant. That’s when she started acting up again. 4 When we found out I was pregnant, the whole family was ecstatic, especially Asher, who had always wanted a daughter. But it was Mrs. Quinn’s reaction that surprised me the most. She wept with joy, clasping her hands together in prayer. “Asher has an heir! Thank you, ancestors!” She was more emotional than my own mother-in-law would have been. Not only that, she started doting on me, fussing over my every need, cooking me elaborate meals. The tension between us began to melt away, all because of the tiny life growing inside me. Until I was seven weeks along. One day, Mrs. Quinn grabbed my arm, her face taut with anxiety, insisting we go to the hospital. I was confused. “Didn’t we just have a check-up last week?” She smiled. “We’re not going for a check-up. We’re going to find out if the baby is a boy or a girl. If it’s a boy, we’ll keep it. If it’s a girl, we’ll get rid of it. The firstborn must be a son!” I snatched my hand away, horrified. “Mrs. Quinn, have you lost your mind? My child’s fate is not for you to decide. You’re just a nanny in this house. This has nothing to do with you!” My outburst left her red-faced and sputtering. She bit out, “I’m only doing this for your own good!” “Why don’t you mind your own business?” I retorted sharply. “The Vances give you an inch, and you think you’re the queen of the castle. You have no say over my child!” My words were merciless. Mrs. Quinn was fuming, but there was nothing she could do. I waved a dismissive hand and banished her from my room. I was about to insist on hiring a new nanny, but Mrs. Quinn beat me to the punch with a preemptive strike. 5 After I became pregnant, I started taking a nap every afternoon. That day, I had just fallen asleep when a sharp pain shot through my fingertip. I’m terrified of pain, and it jolted me awake. I opened my eyes and found myself staring into a pair of cold, narrow eyes. I screamed, grabbing whatever was on my nightstand and hurling it at the figure. Only when I heard a familiar cry of pain did I realize it was Mrs. Quinn. Her forehead was bleeding where an object had struck her, and her chin was cut. In my panic, I had even ripped out a chunk of her hair. She was a complete mess. “Mrs. Quinn, what are you doing?” I demanded, my voice trembling. She stammered, unable to form a coherent sentence. Then I saw the test tube in her hand and the syringe on the floor beside her. It all clicked. She hadn’t given up. She had snuck into my room while I was sleeping to draw my blood for a gender test. I couldn’t believe it. She was a nanny, not the lady of the house. Why was she so obsessed with my pregnancy? Asher was furious. This was his first child. He wouldn’t tolerate anyone, regardless of gender, trying to harm it. Mrs. Quinn was finally scared. Scared of being thrown out for good. She tearfully reminded Asher of how she had saved his life, begging for forgiveness. She banged her head on the floor until the carpet was stained red. Finding a good nanny isn’t easy, and Asher hadn’t been feeling well himself lately, so I agreed to give her one more chance. After that incident, Mrs. Quinn did seem to behave. She took good care of Finn over the years, and I stopped thinking about replacing her. But I was wrong. Her ambition to be the “mistress” of the house had never died. 6 Lately, I’d noticed Finn seemed withdrawn and unusually clingy. I assumed it was just trouble adjusting to his new school. Until tonight. As I was tucking him into bed, he looked at me with red-rimmed eyes. “Mommy,” he whispered, “please don’t leave. I don’t want Daddy to get me a new mommy.” My heart sank, but I kept my voice gentle. “Mommy’s not going anywhere. Who told you Daddy was going to get a new mommy?” He was silent for a long time before his voice came out in a choked sob. “It was Grandma Quinn. She said she’s going to be my real grandma soon. And that if you don’t behave, Daddy will get me a new mommy.” A fire ignited in my chest. Not only was Mrs. Quinn defying me, she was threatening my son. And what did she mean, “she’s going to be my real grandma soon”? I pushed down my anger and questions and focused on comforting my son. “Don’t you worry, Finn. Daddy would never, ever replace Mommy.” After reassuring him until he finally fell asleep, I couldn’t stop thinking about what he’d said. A bizarre thought popped into my head. Had Mrs. Quinn started something with my father-in-law? What other explanation could there be? My father-in-law had been a bit of a playboy in his younger days. When Asher was ten, a mistress had even shown up with an illegitimate son of the same age. Asher never went into detail, but the mistress and her son were sent packing. His wife, heartbroken, had insisted on a divorce. My father-in-law, suddenly repentant, had been trying to win her back ever since. For years, his life had been nothing but work and futile attempts at reconciliation. Given his history and heartbreak, it seemed unlikely he’d fall for the aging Mrs. Quinn. But then again, some people have strange tastes. Maybe years of rejection had changed his palate. It was the only way Mrs. Quinn’s recent behavior made any sense. She was acting like she was already the lady of the house. A shiver went down my spine. I shook Asher, who was sound asleep beside me. “Wake up! If you keep sleeping, you’re going to have a new baby brother!” Asher’s eyes fluttered open. He rolled on top of me. “What? Honey, you want to give Finn a baby brother? I’d better get to work!” “Asher!” My protest was swallowed by his kiss.

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1 The day billionaire Jason went bankrupt, he tried to jump off a skyscraper. There I was, his trophy wife of five years, clinging to his leg in tears. He looked moved—until I spoke: “Don’t jump! My Birkin payment hasn’t cleared!” His face darkened instantly. Later, after a truck sent him flying, I whispered by his hospital bed: “Honey, Cartier has a new ring. Just 10 years of DoorDash to afford it!” Even in a coma, his eyelid twitched in rage. Floating comments called me a gold-digging parasite. They shut up fast when I funded his comeback with millions. No protagonist halo? Fine—I’ll steal the spotlight myself. “Jason, don’t jump! The final payment on my new Birkin hasn’t cleared yet.” Jason turned to look at me, pure shock on his face. “Why are you still here?” I doubled down on my act. “You promised you’d take care of me for life! You can’t go back on your word, no matter what!” The live comments continued to float past my eyes. [> OMG I see why he hates her later. She so deserves it.] [> He’s about to jump and all she can think about is bags and money. The ML is living a tragedy.] [> How else can they show how kind the real female lead is? When he jumps, she’ll appear and save him. I can’t wait!] My lip twitched as I read them. It was a long shot, but I had to try. I tightened my grip on Jason’s leg. He stared down at the river of traffic below, rubbing his temples. “I’m bankrupt, Chloe. I can’t support you anymore.” “There’s a card on the desk in the bedroom. It has five hundred thousand dollars on it. The pin is your birthday. Just go.” I couldn’t see his expression, but it was the first time I had ever heard such a defeated tone in his voice. Even on the brink of death, he was still thinking about leaving me a way out. I tugged on the hem of his shirt, my voice firming with resolve. “No! If worst comes to worst, I’ll support you!” At that, he whipped his head around, his eyes a storm of complex emotions. Before he could answer, I pressed on. “Today is our fifth wedding anniversary. I got you a present!” The wind on the rooftop suddenly howled, making his dress shirt flap violently against his frame. It made him look even more precarious. After a long moment, the man asked in disbelief, “You… got me a present?” In five years of marriage, Jason had given me countless gifts. This was the first time he’d ever heard of me getting one for him. I held out my hand. “Let’s go home, okay?” He hesitated, then finally, his hand met mine. The comments shrieked. [> Wait, what? Why is the side chick stealing the female lead’s lines?] 2 Back home, Jason stared speechlessly at the “gift” I presented. I held up the latest, skintight designer dress, pressing it against Jason’s broad chest for measurement. “Hmm,” I said with a serious expression. “I think it’s a little small.” Then, with feigned distress, I added, “And they have a strict no-return policy. Oh, well. I guess I’ll just have to wear it myself.” A choked laugh escaped Jason. He turned without a word and headed straight back to the rooftop. Before I could even react, he had vanished around the stairwell corner. I stomped my foot in frustration, letting out a sharp cry. “Jason! You cheapskate!” His magnetic voice drifted down from above. “I left my phone up there. I’m just getting it.” That dress added another two thousand dollars to Jason’s debt. To make ends meet, he had no choice but to start delivering food. But no matter how busy he was, he always rushed home at noon to cook for me. Looking at the man in the bright yellow delivery uniform, drenched in sweat, who could believe that just ten days ago he was a Wall Street titan worth billions? He expertly tied an apron and began chopping vegetables in the kitchen with practiced ease. This entire shoebox apartment was smaller than the master bathroom in our old penthouse. I was curled up on the couch, munching on the mango slices he’d prepared for me, scrolling through the eight-figure balance on my banking app. This was all just pocket money Jason had given me over the years. Then there were the designer bags and jewelry stuffed into half the apartment. All told, it was a small fortune. A pang of guilt made me glance toward the kitchen. I found him with his shirt off, a thin, pink floral apron the only thing covering his torso. Broad shoulders, a narrow waist, and a sheen of sweat highlighting the solid lines of his muscles. He looked like some kind of sinfully hot domestic god. My heart skipped a beat, and my foot kicked the coffee table. “Ow!” 3 Jason heard the noise and rushed over, crouching down to gently massage my foot. “You don’t have to go through this with me, Chloe. I’ll pay back the money for the dress. You should… find a better path for yourself. Don’t waste your time on me.” His eyes were downcast, his voice muffled. I put on my most wounded expression. “I haven’t even complained about you being poor, and now you’re trying to kick me out!” Jason opened his mouth to explain that wasn’t what he meant, but I cut him off with a torrent of accusations. “I get it! You think I spend too much, and now you regret it, don’t you? What did you say when you married me? You said you’d support me forever, and now you want to dump me for some frugal, stay-at-home type, is that it? You heartless bastard!” Jason had to clamp a hand over my mouth to stop the stream of nonsense. His voice was tight, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he struggled to find the right words. “I just feel like I’m making you suffer.” “The apartment is small and damp, the food isn’t great, we can only afford discounted fruit…” “Chloe, you deserve a better, happier life than this.” Normally, when the sugar daddy goes broke, the sugar baby packs her bags and runs. But after five years, it was impossible not to have feelings for him. He was handsome, rich, and ridiculously generous. He was always busy, disappearing for days at a time, but when he returned, it was always with a shower of diamonds and gold. And most importantly, even at his lowest point, his last thought was of me, leaving me every penny he had left. I couldn’t leave. I didn’t want to leave. I grabbed the collar of his apron, flipped him over, and pressed him down onto the sofa. Then I planted a loud, firm kiss on his sexy, thin lips. “You said you’d support me for life. Not a minute less, not a second less. I’m stuck with you, Jason.” A dense cloud of comments materialized before my eyes again. [> Damn, girl is eating good. Let me tap in for a chapter or two.] [> Not gonna lie, the side chick and the ML are hot together. I kinda ship it.] [> Sis, don’t go down that road. The ML belongs to the FL. This won’t end well for her.] [> Btw where is my girl?? Don’t let this evil woman fool you, Jason! The FL is your soulmate!] [> The original plot where they met was already ruined. The next scene is the ML getting humiliated while delivering food. The FL is supposed to show up there.] I pretended not to see them and deepened the kiss, holding Jason’s chin. I watched his eyes flutter nervously, a deep blush spreading from his ears down his neck. Taking advantage of a gasp for air, Jason gently pushed me away. “Ch-Chloe, the soup is on the stove! I-I have to check on it!” [> AAAAAH! A cold-blooded killer in the boardroom, a pure-hearted puppy for his wife! What is this heavenly man?!] [> Okay, the ML and his little drama-queen-trophy-wife are actually kinda cute. I’m in.] [> I’m in too.] [> People, stop letting your morals be guided by hot faces!] [> Don’t ship it, you guys. The side character is destined to be killed off by the plot. You’re just setting yourself up for heartbreak.] I had started seeing these bizarre, floating comments a long time ago. At first, I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me. But when the things they talked about started coming true, one after another, I had no choice but to believe them. From their chatter, I learned that my world was a novel. And I was the disposable side character. A mere plot device to advance the love story of the main characters. First, I was the selfish contrast to the female lead’s kindness. Later, I was the obstacle that would strengthen their bond. After seeing the comments, I tried desperately to change the story. But often, the plot would take over, turning me into an unconscious NPC, a puppet on a string. Like the day Jason stood on that rooftop. The plot was forcing me to follow my script: grab the money and run. And Jason was left to face his despair alone. But at the last second, the comments woke me up. And when I saw them mention the exact time the female lead was supposed to appear, a plan began to form in my mind. 4 Jason continued to work from dawn till dusk, delivering food. I was lounging at home, blissfully eating a small cake he’d just brought back for me, when the comments suddenly appeared: [> It’s today! The villain finds out the ML is a delivery guy and orders a cake for the FL’s birthday just so the ML has to deliver it. Then he’s going to humiliate him!] [> My girl is about to make her entrance! Damsel saving the hero! I’m so ready for this!] [> Once the FL appears, Chloe the cannon fodder is done for.] [> I suddenly feel a little bad for Chloe. The first thing the ML did after a big order was buy her a cake. She must think he really loves her, not knowing that personal feelings get erased by the power of the plot.] The day had finally come. I quickly grabbed a hefty-looking designer bag and rushed to the city’s largest hotel. A welcome sign for the female lead, Seraphina Thorne’s, birthday party stood at the entrance. As soon as I walked in, I spotted that familiar splash of yellow. Jason, with his broad shoulders and long legs, couldn’t hide his handsome figure even in a delivery uniform. He was pushing a towering, multi-tiered cake when a group of rich young men blocked his path. The leader was Asher, the villain the comments were talking about. Asher looked Jason up and down, his face a mask of contempt. “Jason, you forced me out of the country back then. I never thought karma would be such a bitch, and so quick.” “Tsk, tsk. Look at you. Pathetic as a stray dog.” The group erupted in laughter. After being overshadowed by Jason for so many years, Asher was eager to kick the man while he was down. To add to the fun, Asher’s friend, Kyle, chimed in. “Hey, Ash, did you hear the best part?” “Jason’s broke, but his little gold digger is still sticking around!” Another guy added, “What a waste! Can he even afford to keep a woman on a delivery boy’s salary?” The laughter grew louder, more piercing. Seeing Jason remain silent, Kyle provoked him further. “How about this? I’ll give you a million dollars. You send that little wife of yours to my place. If she keeps me happy, I’ll…” Jason’s chest heaved. He swung a fist, sending Kyle sprawling to the ground. “You dare hit me?!” The surrounding bodyguards swarmed forward, pinning Jason to the floor. Kyle wiped a smear of blood from his lip, then strode forward and kicked Jason hard in the stomach. “You think you’re still the untouchable king of this city? You can’t protect anyone now.” Jason gritted his teeth, his eyes burning with hatred. “Whatever you have a problem with, you deal with me.” Asher shot Kyle a meaningful look. Kyle understood immediately. He pulled out his phone, aimed it at Jason, and sneered. “I don’t want to make things hard for you. Just get on your knees and crawl through my legs, and I’ll leave your precious little tramp alone.” “What do you say?” [> Using a woman to threaten the ML. The villains are as trashy as ever.] [> This is it! They have to humiliate him so that when the FL steps in to save him, he’ll fall in love at first sight and she’ll become his one true love.] [> The poor ML. Why do they always have to torture him before giving him a tiny bit of happiness? Is that the only way love can happen?] [> Seriously…] [> That’s just how these novels work. How else would it be interesting?] The comments started arguing amongst themselves. I breathed a sigh of relief seeing a few sane voices. If people were questioning it, it meant things could change. Just as the villains were forcing Jason to his knees, and just a second before Seraphina was about to step forward to save him, I charged in. I stormed in, swinging my two-hundred-thousand-dollar handbag like a medieval flail and started wailing on Kyle and Asher’s thick skulls. “Crawl through your daddy’s legs? Well, your daddy’s right here! Get to kneeling!”

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The company’s cash flow had seized up. The final project payment, the one I’d promised would be on time, was going to be a month late. I called in Zoe, the girl I’d been sponsoring for years. She was my foreman’s daughter, working as an intern in my office since graduation. I chose my words carefully. “The money isn’t going to come through on schedule. It might be another month. Could you let your dad know? I don’t want him to worry.” But the next day, the crew smashed up my office. “You swore on your life!” they roared. “The project’s done, and now you’re saying you’re broke?” My eyes found Zoe. She was in tears. “All I know is the company has no money right now,” she sobbed. “You can’t pay, and I can’t lie for you. It’s a matter of my character.” 1 My office had been ransacked. I’d just gotten home from a business trip when the call came. By the time I arrived, the place was a disaster zone. The heavy desks and chairs they couldn’t break were violently shoved out of place, creating a chaotic maze. Smaller things—mugs, binders, files—were shattered and strewn across the floor like confetti. Computer monitors were smashed, their screens a spiderweb of cracks, glittering under the fluorescent lights. The moment my staff saw me, it was as if their spine had snapped back into place. They all rushed toward me. “We couldn’t stop them. They beat up all three security guards.” “They smashed my computer! My data…” “A whole week of analysis, gone. Just… gone.” Before I could say a word, they emerged from my personal office. A dark, angry mass of a few dozen men, a thundercloud rolling ominously toward us. They had come straight from the construction site, still wearing their hard hats, their clothes splattered with flecks of concrete. These men had worked for me for three years. In my memory, they were always cheerful, salt-of-the-earth types. Now, their faces were grim masks of fury. Some of them even held shovels, their knuckles white. I couldn’t imagine what could have driven them to such destructive rage. A second later, one of the workers answered my unspoken question. He stomped toward me, his voice a low growl. “So you’re the one who won’t pay?” He lunged, his hand reaching for my arm, but one of my guys moved faster, tackling him to the ground. Pinned, the man still struggled, his eyes locked on mine, desperate to drag an answer out of me. His aggression ignited a fire in my own team. “You think you can touch our boss?” “Just because we haven’t hit back doesn’t mean we won’t!” The men on my side squared up, stepping forward. The two groups stood in a tense standoff, a spark away from exploding into a full-blown brawl. It was only then that the foreman, Mr. Miller, stepped forward. He took a long, noisy drag from his cigarette, the tip glowing like a malevolent eye. “Quiet!” he barked, his voice raw and powerful. The restless crew instantly fell silent. I’d barely spoken to him over the years. My only real memory of him was from a visit to his home last year—a small, worn-down house with a couple of rooms. He’d bowed his head, his gratitude overflowing. “Thank you, Ms. Blackwood. Thank you for sponsoring my daughter all these years. She never would’ve made it to college without you.” Now, he stood tall, the timid man from my memory completely gone. He looked down at me, his gaze cold. “You said you’d pay the second the project was finished. Well, it’s finished. And now you’re saying there’s no money.” He paused, letting the accusation hang in the air. “What is that, if not a lie?” 2 His words were a signal. The rest of the crew joined in, their voices a rising chorus of anger. “Yeah, a damn lie!” “My whole family is counting on that paycheck!” “Liar! Liar! Liar!” But I never said I wouldn’t pay. I said it would be delayed, a month at the most. In that instant, I knew exactly where the problem lay. I forced my voice to remain steady, my anger a tight knot in my stomach. “Get Zoe in here,” I told my assistant. At the mention of his daughter’s name, Miller took another drag of his cigarette, his eyes fixed on me. “Let’s keep this professional. This has nothing to do with Zoe. This is about you refusing to pay us what we’re owed.” Zoe appeared moments later, looking flustered. I held my temper in check. “What, exactly, did you tell your father?” The question was barely out of my mouth before she burst into tears. “I just told him you can’t pay right now! I can’t lie! The company accounts are empty!” My legs almost gave out from the sheer force of my frustration. This was a delicate matter that should have been handled by HR, but I’d trusted her. I thought that coming from her, the news would be easier for the crew to swallow. I had sponsored her for five years. She was the foreman’s daughter. It was the one task I thought was foolproof. And she’d managed to detonate it, twisting my message into a declaration of bankruptcy. She was still crying, and some of the workers who knew her started to comfort her. “Don’t cry, Zoe. We know you’re on our side.” I gripped the edge of a displaced desk, my knuckles white. My voice was a low, dangerous hiss. “What did I tell you, Zoe? I said it would be delayed a month at most. I said I would pay.” She sobbed, her words a messy defense. “But you can’t pay now! I can’t lie about that! It’s a matter of my character!” 3 My hand shot out, grabbing the nearest thing—a glass tumbler. CRASH! It exploded against the wall, and my frayed sanity shattered right along with it. I pointed a trembling finger at Zoe. “Your character? You want the entire company to vouch for your damn character? This was one simple thing, and you couldn’t even do that right! What did I say? And what did you say? I said the money was coming!” Zoe cried harder. “Just tell me! Which part of what I said was wrong?” “Go out there and ask! Find me one construction company that doesn’t have payment delays! I’m late by one month! One month!” A hot wave of anger surged through me. I lunged forward, my hand raised. For years, I had treated her like a little sister. I never imagined she would stab me in the back like this. Before my hand could connect, Miller caught my wrist, his eyes bulging with rage. “You dare lay a hand on my daughter?” I ripped my arm from his grasp and let out a cold, bitter laugh as I looked at the hostile crowd. “The company’s funds are tight right now, but you will be paid. One month, at the latest.” A wave of murmurs rippled through the crew. “So she’s not refusing to pay, just late by a month?” “The last company we worked for, we waited half a year for our money.” “A month? That’s not bad at all…” They were all from Zoe’s hometown. I remembered my first visit to their village three years ago. The villagers had brought me fresh fruit, and I noticed the dirt caked under the nails of the woman who handed them to me. She saw me looking and shyly wiped her hands on her clothes. “I washed them,” she’d said, embarrassed. That single, simple gesture moved me. I decided then and there to help them. The whole village was full of hardworking people with few skills beyond manual labor. I paid for their travel and housing and put them on my payroll immediately. The standard rate for a laborer in Oakridge was three hundred dollars a day. I gave them four hundred. I made sure they had cold water on hot days and hot meals delivered for lunch, personally checking the quality of the food before it was sent out. I never imagined that after all that, a two-week delay would lead them to not just question me, but to demolish my office. Even after I clarified the situation, the tension in the room didn’t dissipate. “It’s a trick,” someone muttered. “She’s planning to skip town.” 4 That single sentence was like a drop of water in a vat of hot oil. The murmuring crew erupted once more. Amid the chaos, someone turned to Zoe. “Zoe, you tell us. We trust you. Is she going to pay or not?” I looked at her, my heart sinking. Between sobs, she answered. “Uncle, the company really can’t pay right now.” A suffocating weight pressed down on my chest. My own staff couldn’t take it anymore. “Zoe, tell them!” my assistant, Mia, snapped. “Has our boss ever been late with your pay before?” These men had been with me for three years. Every single time a project ended, I paid them immediately, faster than anyone else in the business. This was the very first delay, and this was how they reacted. Miller’s gaze hardened as he looked at me, and in that instant, he delivered his verdict. “Sorry, Ms. Blackwood. I’ve got hundreds of men to answer to. I can’t afford the risk.” He threw his cigarette to the ground. “Either you pay us now, or we’ll keep making trouble. We’ll camp out right here, in front of your office. Let’s see you try to do business then.” The world swam, dark spots dancing in my vision. For three years… even a dog, if you fed it every day for three years, wouldn’t bite you if you missed one meal. But these men, over a single delayed payment, were ready to tear me apart. In all of Oakridge, no one treated their crews like I did. They were doing this because I was a woman, and they thought their numbers gave them the power to bully me. I had been up all night dealing with work, skipped breakfast, and walked straight into this mess. I was swaying on my feet, but in that moment of weakness, a cold clarity washed over me. If a dog bites you, you get a new dog. Especially when it comes to laborers, who were a dime a dozen. I steadied myself, my voice clear and firm. “How much? Tell me the number.” “Four and a half million dollars.” Seeing me soften, he quickly added, “Look, it’s hundreds of us, working for over four months straight. Our families depend on this…” “Enough,” I cut him off. I took a step forward, and immediately, a wall of workers closed in around me, as if they were afraid I’d make a run for it. “I’m going to my office to make a phone call.” Only when I was inside did I see the full extent of the damage. Files were dumped on the floor, drawers had been emptied, and important documents were torn to shreds. I walked through the wreckage to my desk. Standing amidst the ruins, I picked up my phone and started making calls. “Mr. Lee, it’s Evelyn. I was wondering if you were free this afternoon…” “Catherine, it’s me. I need to ask you a favor…” “Ben, it’s Evelyn…” Twelve calls. Twelve times I had to swallow my pride, something I hadn’t done since I was a child. Through the glass wall of my office, I could see my employees, all of them looking down, unable to meet my eyes. The workers, on the other hand, stared at me like a pack of wolves, waiting to tear a piece of flesh from my bones. I transferred the money, every last cent. Then I walked out, holding my phone. “It’s all there. Check it.” 5 Miller confirmed the transfer on his phone. He looked up at me, a smirk on his face. “See? You had the money all along. Why make us go through all this trouble?” I changed the subject. “The police are on their way. Let’s calculate the damages. You’ll be paying for them.” They must have anticipated this when they started smashing things. A few of them looked angry, but no one argued. While we waited, Zoe spoke up. “Evelyn… let them go. They have another project lined up. Every second they’re here is a loss for them.” I shot a sideways glance at her. One of the workers, thinking she had a point, started to shuffle toward the door. Mia, seeing the look on my face, brought me a glass of hot water. I took a sip before speaking. “You don’t need to go back to the site.” Miller finally looked at me directly. “What’s that supposed to mean, boss?” “You’re all fired.” Flick. The sound of a lighter. Smoke curled up into the air. Through the haze, Miller’s voice was laced with contempt. “Ms. Blackwood, we’re halfway through the new project. It’s not right to fire us now.” Zoe looked at me, her voice pleading. “Evelyn, they’ve been with you for three years.” I held the warm glass in my hands and looked at her. “So have you. You’re a big girl now. Pack your things and be out of my house by tonight.” She fell silent. In the dead quiet, Miller threw his half-smoked cigarette to the ground, where it landed on a pile of shredded paper. A small wisp of smoke began to rise. I poured the hot water from my glass onto it. The water hissed, extinguishing the glowing ember and the threat of a fire. I looked at the man. “Get out.” 6 They left. All of them. That night, I worked frantically to hire a new crew. The extra hundred dollars a day I offered meant I found one quickly. The new foreman gave me his word there would be no trouble. By the time I finished, the sky was already turning a pale gray. The apartment was still a mess. I realized Zoe hadn’t come back to pack at all. The next morning, she was waiting for me at the office, a resignation letter in hand. She was wearing a brand-new outfit, the designer logo loud and conspicuous. My eyes fell on the handbag she was carrying. It was bright purple crocodile skin, an ostentatious piece that screamed old money, not the taste of a young woman. I recognized it. It cost close to sixty thousand dollars. In Oakridge, there was only one prominent single man old enough to appreciate a bag like that, and he was a widower who had remained single for years. All the other men in that circle had kids her age. I had sponsored her for five years, watched her grow from a timid girl into a young woman. My voice was harder than I intended when I asked, “Where did you get the bag?” She stammered, “Evelyn… that’s none of your business, is it?” None of my business? I was the one who drove her to college for her first semester. I bought gifts for her roommates so she wouldn’t feel left out. I had guided her through every major decision she’d ever made. And now, it was none of my business. My face hardened. “Where. Did. You. Get it.” Cornered, she finally broke. “My boyfriend gave it to me.” I pointed a finger at her. “He gives you a gift like this, and you have any idea what you’re expected to give him in return?” She looked at me, genuinely confused by my anger. “Return? What do I have to return? He gave it to me because he likes me.” It was never that simple. Teenagers giving each other milk tea, I could believe that was innocent. A sixty-thousand-dollar handbag? There were always strings attached. She continued, her voice gaining a defiant edge. “Evelyn, you sponsored me all this time so I could make something of myself, right? So I could make money? Well, I have. This bag, this outfit… do you have any idea how much they cost?” Was that why I sponsored her? I sponsored her because she had stood before me with tears in her eyes and said, “I have good grades. I just want a chance to learn.” Now, she was proudly showing off her new clothes, a smug look on her face. “Do you know how much this dress costs? It’s more than I would have made in years working for you.” I grabbed the cup of coffee off my desk and, without a word, poured it over her head. The hot liquid streamed down her face, dripping onto her expensive dress. It wasn’t enough. I snatched a pen from my desk, grabbed the purple bag from her, and started scribbling furiously all over the exotic leather. “What are you doing?” she shrieked, trying to wrestle it away from me. Black ink smeared across her arms, but she ignored the stains on her skin, frantically trying to wipe the marks off the bag. “What is wrong with you?” I ignored her, threw the ruined pen on the floor, and walked back to my desk. I took out my checkbook and wrote out a check. My head was throbbing. I pressed my fingers to my temple and held up the check. She immediately fell silent. The sharp click of her heels on the floor echoed in the quiet office. My hand was suddenly empty. She had snatched the check and placed the ruined handbag on my desk. “Evelyn,” she said, her voice laced with a bitter triumph, “you must really look down on me right now, don’t you?” I kept my head in my hands, saying nothing. “Everyone has different goals in life,” she continued. “I don’t think I’ve done anything wrong.” She didn’t think she’d done anything wrong. “Zoe,” I called out as she turned to leave. I pushed myself up and walked toward her. A storm of anger had been brewing inside me since the moment I saw my trashed office. I raised my hand. CRACK. The sound of my palm striking her cheek echoed through the office. She clutched her face, the door wide open. No one dared to look our way. Everyone knew how much I had valued Zoe, how I had personally mentored her, desperate for her to learn the ropes and stand on her own two feet. I couldn’t understand how she had become this person. Zoe held her cheek, a cold smile spreading across her lips. “Evelyn, every penny you ever gave me, I will wire it back to your account. This isn’t over. You just wait.” She walked out, head held high. Mia peeked her head around the corner. “Boss? Are you okay?” I dragged myself back to my desk. The defaced purple handbag sat there, a monument to my failure. I reached out, picked it up, and hurled it into the trash can. As it hit the bottom with a dull thud, the world went black, and I collapsed. 7 When I opened my eyes, Mia was sitting by my hospital bed. She looked like she was bursting to say something. “Spit it out,” I said. She was young and impulsive. Someone else in the room tried to shush her, but it was too late. The words tumbled out. “The new crew got into a fight with Mr. Miller’s crew.” A nurse came in to check on me. “Let’s not talk about work right now,” she said kindly, changing my IV bag. “You need to rest. Eat on time, sleep on time. All these late nights will catch up to you when you’re older.” I nodded obediently. As soon as she left, I turned back to Mia. “The reason.” The others in the room tried to signal her to stop. “Boss, you need to rest. It’s a small thing.” But this was why I’d hired her. She was smart, bold, and fresh out of college, unafraid to say what needed to be said. She pressed her lips together, trying to hold it in, but failed. “Our water truck was on its way to the new site, and it had to pass by the place where Miller’s crew is working now. They blocked the road and ambushed it. The driver was scared, so he stopped, and they just… stole all the water. The whole shipment. Our new foreman took some guys to get it back, and they beat them up. Our guys have to work this afternoon, so they just bought some antiseptic and went straight to the site. The new foreman said it’s not a big deal and he didn’t want to bother you, but it is! That was thousands of dollars worth of water!” She was talking a mile a minute, her voice thick with righteous anger. I understood. Before I could respond, there was a knock on the door. It swung open before I could answer. “Ms. Blackwood! We came to see you!” It was a few of the old workers, carrying a fruit basket. Miller was with them. I would have welcomed a visit, but the moment he sat down, his words dripped with sarcasm. “Thank you, Ms. Blackwood. Thank you so much.” His voice was full of mock gratitude. “Thank you for letting us go. We’re making eight hundred a day now! You have no idea how happy the guys are.” He was practically beaming. “The new boss, he’s a young guy. Generous, open-handed. Not a penny-pincher like you. We’re building a villa for him. A real villa!” His men snickered. Miller continued, “And since leaving you, my Zoe’s found herself a wonderful boyfriend. We’ve all landed on our feet. We really have you to thank for all this.” His words were laced with poison, but I ignored them. After the laughter died down, the worker who had first tried to grab me in the office spoke up, his tone suddenly serious. “Now that we’ve had our fun, let’s talk business.” All eyes turned to him. He stared at me. “We worked for you for three years. Turns out, the real rate for this work is eight hundred a day. You were paying us half. We can’t even imagine how much you pocketed.” He paused, then delivered the real punchline. “We’re here to get paid.” My staff exploded. “Get paid? For what?” “Go ask around! See what the real rate is! We gave you everything, paid time off for bad weather… we were practically a charity!” “A couple of days building a villa has fried your brain!” Miller ignored them, flicking ash from his cigarette. His face was a grim mask. “We’re here to get paid. You owe us for the three years of work you shorted us. You pay us the difference, and we walk away.” “Eight hundred a day,” he repeated, his voice low and menacing. “You do the math. We’ll wait.”

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The Scorch had arrived. Surface temperatures soared past 150 degrees Fahrenheit, and the first wave of humanity was preparing to evacuate to the Arctic Citadel. As a leading scientist, my husband, David, was granted a priority ticket that included a spot for his spouse. Everyone assumed he would take me without a second thought. But the name he wrote on the application form wasn’t mine. It was his graduate student’s. “She’s a young girl I’ve mentored,” he’d said, his tone casual, almost dismissive. “She has no family, no one to look after her. I can’t just leave her here to burn.” He submitted the form without a single glance my way, his words a shard of ice in my heart. “June, you’re different,” he continued, his voice devoid of emotion. “You’ve always been tough. I have faith you can survive until the second transport wave.” A bitter smile tightened my lips. I said nothing. That night, as the temperature climbed ever higher on the global feed, I calmly made a phone call. “You once told me you’d grant me one wish, no questions asked,” I said, my voice steady. “Does that offer still stand?” 1 There was no hesitation on the other end. “Always.” I took a breath, my voice barely a whisper. “Can you get me two tickets for the Ark? For my mother and me. On the first transport.” A chance at survival. A ticket was a prayer answered. He couldn’t make a firm promise, but his words were a lifeline. “I’ll do everything I can.” Just as I hung up, David walked in, his eyes still glued to his phone. “Who were you calling?” he asked. I was too tired to even invent a lie. “Someone about tickets,” I said, my voice flat. He didn’t even look up. “There are only a few hundred tickets for the first wave. You won’t get one. If it were possible, I would have already arranged it for you.” My fingers tightened around my phone. Of course, he knew how priceless they were. And still, he had cast me aside for his student without a moment’s hesitation. When I didn’t respond, he finally lifted his head. “June, don’t worry. I’ve already put your name down for the second wave. You’re not going to die.” I listened to the radio announcer’s grim report of the rising heat and let out a silent, scornful laugh. Everyone knew that in the Scorch, every day you waited was another tick down on your chances of survival. The apocalypse loomed, and perhaps it was the suffocating anxiety, but a desperate sliver of hope made me ask, “David, for the sake of my mother—the woman who sponsored your education for six years—can’t you at least take her? She’s old, her health is failing. She won’t last long here.” A heavy, unbearable silence filled the room. We hadn’t turned on the lights, and in the gloom, I couldn’t make out the expression on his face. We had been married for seven years, but we had known each other for far longer. We grew up on the same street, childhood friends who became inseparable. Then, the summer before high school, David’s parents were killed in a car accident. My mother, her heart aching for the lonely boy, took him in. In an era of scarcity, where every grain of rice was counted, she somehow managed to put two of us through college. The summer after we graduated, David, who had always been a man of few words, made me a promise. He swore that if the world ended, he would die by my side. The summer air back then wasn’t nearly as hot as it was now, but the heat of his palm against mine had been enough to set my entire world ablaze. I squeezed my eyes shut, letting the memory dissolve like smoke. David was silent for a long time. Finally, he spoke. “June, Chloe is my most valuable assistant. I need her with me. It’s not up for discussion.” He paused, his voice dropping. “And… don’t take the things we said as kids so seriously.” A bitter laugh escaped my lips, and I swayed, nearly losing my balance. It was the Scorch, the air thick enough to cook a man alive, yet his words chilled me to the bone. Soon, the clouds parted, and a sliver of moonlight illuminated his sharp, detached features. He nudged a file folder toward me. “Here. This is for you.” I opened it. It was a divorce agreement. 2 My head snapped up, my eyes wide with disbelief. David took a slow, deliberate sip of his tea. “The first wave transport requires proof of kinship,” he explained calmly. “Chloe is only my student. That’s not enough.” My hand trembled as I picked up the paper, my teeth clenched. “So?” He adjusted his glasses, a flicker of guilt in his eyes, but his voice remained as clinical and detached as ever. “So, I need you to sign this. To divorce me. You’ll give her your status as Mrs. Blackwood, and then Chloe can board the Ark without any issues.” He finally looked at me, attempting a reassuring tone. “June, it’s just a fake divorce. A temporary marriage for the paperwork. You know you’re the only one for me. It’s just a title, it means nothing.” I lowered my gaze, a hollow laugh catching in my throat. I couldn’t remember when our conversations had shifted from the thrilling frontiers of science to the mundane grind of groceries and bills. Maybe it was a few years into our marriage. Or maybe it was the day Chloe became his graduate student. I couldn’t be sure. This was the most he had said to me in one stretch in years. And it was all to convince me to divorce him. A bitter cocktail of emotions churned in my gut. I sniffled, took the pen, and signed my name without a moment’s hesitation. Seeing my decisiveness, David’s brow furrowed, a hint of irritation in his voice. “June, once the Scorch passes, we’ll remarry.” I turned my head away, waving a dismissive hand. “You said it yourself, David. It’s the end of the world. A piece of paper doesn’t mean anything. Who knows if we’ll even be alive next month?” I met his gaze, my own cold and hard. “Maybe you should focus on saving the continent, Dr. Blackwood.” His voice grew heavy. “That’s not what I meant. Don’t throw a fit over a young girl.” I ignored him, crawling into bed and pulling the covers over my head. Thank God for the darkness. It hid the tears streaming down my face, the utter devastation that was breaking me apart. Soon, David lay down beside me, his back to mine. The familiar distance, the chilling indifference. We were inches apart, yet a universe of cold stretched between us. I silently wiped my eyes. In this heat, air conditioning units were failing everywhere, their circuits fried. No one could guarantee ours wouldn’t be next. The thought of being slowly cooked alive kept me awake for hours. Then, a sudden, jarring ringtone pierced the silence. It was David’s phone. The special tone he’d set just for Chloe. I heard a frantic fumbling as he silenced it. He must have thought I was asleep, but I could feel his tense gaze on me, even through the blanket. He tiptoed out of the room and into the living room, cracking the front door open. His voice was a low whisper. “Chloe? What are you doing here so late?” Chloe’s voice was thick with manufactured tears. “Dr. Blackwood, my AC broke… It’s so hot, I can’t stand it. I had nowhere else to go, I just… I…” I could hear the wheels of her luggage. She sounded so pitiful, so helpless. “Could I… could I please stay here for a few days?” My hand clenched the corner of the sheet. We were both waiting for his answer. Chloe and I. But just like with the Ark ticket, I already knew I would lose. The door creaked open wider. “Come in,” David said. “But be quiet. June’s a light sleeper.” Chloe’s feigned sobs turned into a relieved giggle. “Oh, Dr. Blackwood, you’re the best!” She paused at the threshold, then seemed to reconsider. “But… if you let me stay, won’t your wife mind?” David was silent for a moment, as if contemplating the profound nobility of his actions. “Don’t worry about her. You’re my student. It’s perfectly fine for you to stay for a few days.” Separated by a single door, my heart turned to ice. After settling Chloe on the couch, David started back toward the bedroom. But Chloe stopped him, her voice a soft, careful murmur. “Dr. Blackwood… you gave me the family ticket. Is… is your wife okay with that?” David’s reply was laced with a gentleness I hadn’t heard in years. “Chloe, you’re my most brilliant protégé. I need you for my research. June understands. Everything we do is for the greater good of humanity.” A cold, mirthless laugh escaped me in the dark. Once again, he had elevated his selfish desires to a noble cause I couldn’t argue against. Always so rational, so objective. It was the same way he’d always met my anger and accusations—with a calm silence that made my hysteria feel like a childish tantrum. My pillow was soaked through with tears. Just then, my phone screen lit up. It was a text message, sent silently so as not to disturb me. June, tickets secured. A private transport will pick you and your mother up in three days. 3 A massive weight lifted from my shoulders. But that night, the bedroom door never opened again. David stayed in the living room, talking with Chloe late into the night about the challenges of the Scorch. I could already imagine his excuses if I were to walk out there. Academic discussion. A mentor-mentee exchange. I’d heard it all before. It was his tired, old refrain. I no longer had the energy to push open that door. What was the point? In this heat, every burst of anger felt like it was burning a hole through my chest. I needed to conserve my strength. For my mother. For our escape. Besides, in the face of survival, love and betrayal suddenly seemed so trivial. With that thought, I finally drifted into a deep sleep. To my surprise, however, Chloe was still there the next morning. She sat at our dining table, brazenly using my plate for her breakfast. When she saw me, she gave a timid little bow, her manners impeccable. “Good morning, Mrs. Blackwood. My AC is still out… I hope you don’t mind me being here. I apologize for the intrusion.” I gave her a sarcastic smile. The blanket on the sofa was still unfolded. They weren’t even going to bother with an explanation. Or rather, they were too lazy to invent one for me. “June, come eat,” David said. He had actually cooked, playing the part of the perfect, caring husband for Chloe’s benefit. As Chloe picked up her knife and fork, my eyes locked onto the plate in front of her. We had made it ourselves at a pottery class, five years ago, for our anniversary. Etched into the bottom, almost invisible, was the promise of a lifetime he had sworn to me when we were young. That plate was a symbol of our love. And now, it was being used by another woman. Noticing my stare, David said casually, “Oh, the girl likes it. Just let her use it.” My appetite vanished. I grabbed my car keys, intending to go pick up my mother. David shot up and grabbed my arm, his voice sharp. “Where are you going? It’s 150 degrees out there. If you want to throw a tantrum, don’t risk your life to do it.” Chloe’s eyes welled up with tears. “She’s right, Mrs. Blackwood. The asphalt is melting. It’s dangerous even in a car…” I let out a heavy breath. “I’m getting my mother. Let go of me!” In the scuffle, my arm knocked against the table. The plate in front of Chloe slid to the floor. It shattered into a thousand pieces, taking the vow etched into its surface with it. David froze, a strange tightness seizing his chest. I shoved him away and walked out into the oppressive, searing heat. The streets were dead. The stray cats and dogs that once roamed the neighborhood were long gone. A blanket of silence hung over the world. I rushed to my mother’s small house in the countryside. Any later, and her old air conditioner would surely fail. But when we returned home, I was met with a scrutinizing glare. David quickly masked his expression, taking my mother’s luggage with a respectful nod. “Mrs. Lane.” My mother smiled warmly at him. After she was settled, David pulled me aside. His face was a thundercloud. “June, I need to remind you of something. This is an apocalypse. Resources are scarce. Our food supply won’t last forever with an extra person.” His voice was low, but every word was a blow. “Four mouths to feed is… a lot.” I stared at him, unable to believe what I was hearing. He… how could he? He was complaining that my mother was a burden. Disappointment twisted into a sharp pain in my chest. “David, she’s my MOTHER! She’s the woman who sponsored you for six years, who treated you like a son!” My voice cracked. “How could you say something so heartless?” He adjusted his glasses, his face a mask of cold logic. “June, I’ve calculated every single ration. I’m just stating a fact.” There it was again. That infuriatingly calm, rational expression. My anger felt like punching a pillow. But I couldn’t take it anymore. “David! Then tell Chloe to leave! Why is my mother the ‘extra’ one? Have you lost your conscience?!” At the mention of Chloe, his voice suddenly rose. “THAT’S WHY I’M TRYING TO DISCUSS IT WITH YOU!” He thrust a piece of paper at me—a schedule. “Smaller meals, stretched out over the next three days. After Chloe and I leave, you and your mother can figure out the rest on your own.” I didn’t even look at it. I snatched the paper from his hand and ripped it to shreds. In the other room, my mother was looking at Chloe with a puzzled expression. “Honey,” she asked me, her voice laced with uncertainty. “Who is this young lady?” David’s posture tensed. He instinctively moved to stand slightly in front of Chloe, a silent, protective gesture. I watched them, a profound weariness settling over me. To me, David had always been a distant star—cold, remote, and untouchable. But now I saw the truth. His light just wasn’t meant to shine on me. Not wanting to worry my mother, I forced a smile. “Mom, she’s one of David’s students.” My mother visibly relaxed, her face breaking into a relieved grin. “Oh, what a lovely girl.” She looked from me to David. “So, in three days, we’re all leaving together, right?” Her question, so innocent, hung in the air. I saw David’s expression freeze for a fraction of a second. I answered for him. “Mom, go pack your things. Don’t bring too much. Ten kilograms per person is the limit.” My mother beamed, patting my hand. “Alright, alright. You should get packing too, dear. I’m so glad we can all go together. That’s just wonderful.” “Yeah,” I mumbled, turning toward my bedroom. David followed me in, closing the door heavily behind us. He ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “Did you tell your mother she’s coming with us? How am I supposed to solve that, June? Where do you expect me to get two more tickets?” His voice rose. “You’re lying to her, you know that.” I just smiled. It wasn’t a lie. We were leaving. And after that, we would have nothing more to do with him. 4 David’s brow furrowed. “What are you smiling about, June?” His eyes narrowed with suspicion. “Are you doing this on purpose? Trying to back me into a corner, to force my hand into taking your mother?” I opened my suitcase on the bed, not sparing him a single glance. “Don’t worry,” I said, my voice flat. “My mother and I won’t interfere with your two spots on the Ark.” I began dumping my belongings into the suitcase, then went to the closet and started pulling out old keepsakes—anniversary gifts, photo albums—and tossing them into the trash. In the apocalypse, they were just junk. Including all the sentiments attached to them. David picked up a small, stuffed bear from the trash—our third-anniversary gift. His face darkened. I didn’t want to talk to him anymore. I packed my things and moved them into the guest room with my mother. The next three days were tense. Resources were tight, and each meal was just a small cup of water and a protein bar. But on the last night before our departure, I woke up thirsty and saw Chloe in the kitchen, using precious ice cubes from the freezer to soothe her face. I said nothing, but the moment she saw me, her eyes filled with tears. “Mrs. Blackwood… my skin was just so dry… I just wanted a little hydration… I’m sorry, I won’t do it again…” David, drawn by the noise, came out and shot a cool look in my direction. “June, she’s just a kid. Don’t be so hard on her.” I was stunned. Just yesterday, he was complaining that my mother was a burden, and now it was clear he was saving our rations for his “kid.” My eyes met Chloe’s over his shoulder. The feigned vulnerability on her face slowly hardened into a triumphant, knowing smirk. I was too exhausted to fight. I simply collected my and my mother’s rations and returned to my room. David started to reach for me, but then let his hand fall, that strange, suffocating feeling returning to his chest. The third day arrived. I hauled our luggage to the designated pickup point, my mother leaning on my arm. When David saw me, he immediately pulled me aside, his voice tight with agitation. “June, do you really have to follow me? Are you this desperate?” “I already told you, you and your mother are on the second transport! Can’t you understand plain English?” “Besides,” he added, his voice rising in a crescendo of self-righteousness, “even if I didn’t take Chloe, and I took you instead, would you really abandon your own mother? I’m doing this for your own good!” Once again, he was launching into a tirade on behalf of Chloe. A bitter, self-mocking smile touched my lips. “Who’s following you? I told you, you don’t have to worry about our tickets. I have my own way.” David’s brow tightened. He grabbed my arm. “June, you haven’t worked in years. What ‘way’ could you possibly have? Can you stop being so stubborn?” His words almost made me laugh. The single research fellowship at the Institute all those years ago… it was mine. I gave it up so David could have his career. I wrenched my arm from his grasp. “David, please don’t make me regret every single moment I spent believing I wasn’t blind.” He stared at his empty hand, his face twisting in anger as he shouted, “June, everything I’ve done is the result of careful consideration! Why can’t you just trust me one more time!” Not wanting my mother to hear, I pulled my luggage away from him. “You don’t need to worry about me.” David opened his mouth to say more, but just then, a sleek, armored vehicle rolled to a stop in front of us. The Noah’s Ark. I helped my mother toward the ramp. David panicked. “June, are you insane? You don’t have a spot! Are you planning to storm the vehicle?” He shot a look at Chloe. “Get on, quickly, before someone takes your seat.” Chloe flashed a smug smile and hurried forward. But as she stepped onto the ramp, an official in a crisp uniform blocked her path, checking a datapad. “Apologies, ma’am. This transport was chartered by Director Quinn to collect Ms. June Vance and her mother. Please do not interfere with our duties.” In an instant, the color drained from David’s face. He looked like he’d been struck by lightning.

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1 My best friend and I had just finished dinner and were about to leave when a woman blocked our path, insisting I pay for another table’s bill. I refused, telling her I didn’t know them. She exploded. “Damn it, I’m doing you a favor by letting you pay! Who the hell do you think you are, disrespecting the Sterling Corporation in this city? You looking to die?” Before I could respond, she became even more arrogant. “Do you have any idea who I am? I’m the wife of Sterling Corporation’s chairman, Rory Sterling! Scared now, aren’t you?” I froze for a second, then pulled out my phone and dialed Rory’s number. “I hear you have another wife at the company?” … The moment I hung up, the woman flew into a rage. She snatched my phone and smashed it on the floor. “Still trying to call for backup? Believe it or not, I can make sure you never walk out of this restaurant.” “Stop it!” My friend, Moya Devaney, pulled me behind her. “Is this how people from Sterling Corporation behave? Harassing strangers for money and getting physical without any reason?” The woman’s face flushed with anger. “Manners? In this city, the Sterling name is manners! I’m letting you pay my bill because I’m giving you a chance to climb the social ladder, understand? You want to talk about rules? My word is the rule here!” I laughed out loud, looking up at the woman, whose name I now knew was Ivy Lilley. “Sterling Corporation may be big, but I doubt they taught you how to be a highway robber.” Ivy snorted, planting her hands on her hips like a common shrew. “I’m giving you a chance to network! Do you know how many people are lining up to buy me dinner? I wouldn’t even give them the time of day!” A chance to network. As if my family, the Croftons, ever needed to network with anyone in this city. I glanced at Moya, her expression dark. I knew my friend, a princess from the capital’s most elite circles, was shocked to be bullied by someone from a company like Sterling. Ivy sneered and waved a hand toward the door. “Let me tell you something. In this city, what I, Ivy Lilley, say, goes! Grab these two idiots who don’t know their place!” The words had barely left her mouth when seven or eight bodyguards in black suits swarmed in, surrounding us. Moya instinctively pulled me back, her eyes sharp and ready for a fight. But there were too many of them. Before she could make a move, two men grabbed her arms, pinning her. “Moya!” I lunged forward, but a sharp blow to the back of my neck sent darkness exploding behind my eyes. Through the haze, I saw Moya struggling, cursing them, before a fist slammed into her jaw. Blood trickled from the corner of her mouth. I was forced to the ground, helpless, as Ivy kicked Moya in the stomach, spitting insults. “You dare meddle in my business? Today, I’ll teach you that you don’t mess with Sterling Corporation!” Fists rained down on me, each blow a dull, throbbing pain. Moya had only come to visit, and now she was caught in this mess. “Ivy Lilley!” I yelled, my voice hoarse. “I am Rory Sterling’s legally wedded wife, Autumn Crofton.” I gestured to Moya, who was still being held down. “And she is Moya Devaney, from the Devaney family of the capital! Let us go now, and we can still forget this ever happened!” Ivy’s foot froze mid-air. Then she burst out laughing. “Rory Sterling’s wife? From the Devaney family? Did you two get your brains beaten out?” The people at her table roared with laughter. “Everyone knows the boss’s wife is Vice President Lilley.” “She’s really got some nerve, making up stories like that.” “The Devaney family? From the capital? Never heard of them. Probably just some name she pulled out of a hat to scare us.” Ivy leaned down and grabbed a fistful of my hair, her eyes vicious. “Say you’re his wife one more time, and I’ll rip your mouth off. I’ll show you what’s real and what’s fake. Only I can say Rory’s name. And I am the only woman who will ever be his.” Moya, still pinned to the floor with blood on her lips, let out a mocking laugh. “Well, Autumn Crofton, looks like you got married for nothing. This woman is claiming your man right in front of you, and you, the actual wife, are the one left looking like a fool.” Her words, strangely, made me want to laugh. And I did, though it was a harsh, bitter sound. Ivy was still pulling my hair. I suddenly jerked my head to the side and bit down, hard, on her wrist. She screamed in pain, her grip loosening. I used the momentum to slam my knee into the groin of the bodyguard behind me. As he doubled over in agony, I grabbed a beer bottle from a nearby table and smashed it over another guard’s head. By the time Ivy realized what was happening, I was on her, my fist connecting with her face. She stumbled back, stunned by the sudden counterattack, blood gushing from her nose. “You bitch! You dare hit me?!” she shrieked, clawing at my face. I caught her arm and threw her to the ground. I straddled her, raining down punches. The Sterling employees at her table, reeking of alcohol, rushed forward to pull me off. “You’re attacking VP Lilley? Are you tired of living?” Somehow, Moya had broken free. She kicked away a man who was coming at me and yelled, “Beat the hell out of her, Autumn! I’ve never been this insulted in my entire life!” In the chaos, someone smashed a chair across my back. I grunted in pain but didn’t stop. Ivy was screaming, scratching wildly at my hair. “Sterling security! Kill her! I’ll take responsibility! Triple bonuses for everyone!” The employees swarmed me like a pack of wolves, grabbing my arms, my waist, kicking at my legs. As I was being pulled back, Ivy kicked me hard in the stomach. I staggered back, and was about to charge again when a voice boomed from the restaurant entrance. “Everyone, stop!” 2 Two men in police uniforms pushed their way in. They frowned at the wreckage, but their expressions changed completely when they saw the bruised and beaten Ivy Lilley on the floor. “VP Lilley? What are you doing here? What happened?” one of the officers, a portly man, asked, his voice dripping with sycophancy as he rushed to help her up. Seeing the police, Ivy acted as if her savior had arrived. She pointed a trembling finger at Moya and me. “Officer Wang! These two outsiders are crazy! They refused to pay for their meal and then started a fight! Look what they did to me! And my employees! They’re all injured!” The portly officer glanced at our own injuries and dismissed them, turning to us with a scowl. “What do you two think you’re doing? Brawling in broad daylight and assaulting employees of Sterling Corporation? You’ve got some nerve!” “She was the one who started it,” Moya said, spitting out a mouthful of blood. “She tried to force us to pay her bill.” “Nonsense!” Ivy interrupted immediately. “I was just trying to be nice, letting them bask in the glory of the Sterling name for a moment, and they just turned on me! They even had the audacity to pretend to be my husband’s wife and some big shot from the capital.” The portly officer clearly believed her. He pointed at the shattered glass and overturned tables. “Regardless, you beat her up like this and destroyed the restaurant’s property. It’s clearly your fault! Let me tell you, in this city, everyone shows respect to Sterling Corporation. VP Lilley is Rory Sterling’s woman. By touching her, you’re disrespecting Sterling, and you’re going against the rules of this entire city!” The other, thinner officer was already brandishing a pair of handcuffs. “Enough talk. You’re coming with us to the station. Oh, and you’ll be covering VP Lilley’s bill, the damages to the restaurant, her medical bills, and her emotional distress compensation. Then, if you get on your knees and apologize, maybe we can settle this privately.” “On what grounds?” I laughed, furious. “She started this, and you’re convicting us without even investigating?” “On what grounds? On the grounds that you’re not from around here!” the portly officer waved his hand dismissively. “You’re in our city, you play by our rules. VP Lilley letting you pay her bill was an honor. Don’t be ungrateful!” Moya sneered. “I’d like to see if the rules of this city are above the laws of this country.” “Still talking back, huh?” The thin officer moved to cuff me. “Looks like you haven’t learned your lesson!” I dodged him. Enraged, he pulled out a stun baton and flicked it on. “You want to do this the hard way?” he said, jabbing it towards me. “Looks like you’re itching for a stay in a jail cell!” A jolt of electricity shot through me. My whole body seized up, and I nearly collapsed. Moya caught me, her eyes blazing. “How dare you abuse your authority?” “Abuse my authority? I’m performing my official duties,” the portly officer said, pulling out his own stun baton and pointing it at Moya. “In this city, anything involving Sterling Corporation is a big deal. People like you who don’t know their place need to be taught a lesson!” Moya grunted as the electricity hit her, the smell of burning fabric in the air. “You power-tripping dogs… you’ll regret this one day…” “Regret it?” The portly officer’s grin widened. He used his baton to lift Moya’s chin. “You can regret it all you want when you’re getting beaten every day in your cell.” He turned to Ivy, his face a mask of fawning servitude. “VP Lilley, is this enough for you? If not, I can turn it up a notch!” Ivy watched, smugly. “A little more. They need to learn who’s in charge here.” The portly officer kicked me, then bowed to Ivy again. “VP Lilley, if you don’t mind my asking, when is the baby due? My partner and I will be sure to prepare a generous gift to congratulate you and Mr. Sterling.” The thin officer nodded eagerly. “Yes, yes! We hope you’ll give us the honor of sharing in your joy. Maybe Mr. Sterling might even consider a little promotion for us…” At the mention of this, Ivy smiled. “About four or five months. I had it checked. It’s a boy.” Ivy… was pregnant. The news hit me like a physical blow. I’d been away on a business trip for six months. I had only just returned, and Rory already had a child on the way. The blood rushed to my head. Rory and I had been married for two years, and he’d always put off having children, claiming he was too busy with the company. I struggled to get up. Seeing me move, the thin officer jabbed the stun baton at the back of my neck. My vision went black. As I was about to fall, Ivy grabbed a stool and raised it over my head. Just then, the sound of hurried, expensive footsteps echoed from the restaurant entrance.

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The holiday break was on, and my wife insisted on dragging me to her class reunion. By the time we got to the hotel, almost everyone was already there. They all looked like they’d made it big. A sea of Mercedes and BMWs filled the parking lot; my lone Dodge stuck out like a sore thumb. Even from a distance, I could hear the loud chatter. “I just don’t get it. Isabelle was the queen of our class back in the day. How did she end up marrying a loser like Christopher?” Hearing me insulted, my wife, Isabelle, didn’t say a word in my defense. Instead, she beamed, eagerly pulling her old friends into photos, deliberately leaving me standing alone on the sidelines. After the dinner and drinks had wound down, Wyatt, the old school bully, sauntered over to me, holding Isabelle’s hand. “Christopher,” he said, a smirk playing on his lips. “I’ve taken a liking to your wife. Name your price.” I tugged at the collar of my shirt, an involuntary smile touching my own lips. “You two should think this through,” I said softly. “Divorcing me could land you in prison.” 1 If my wife hadn’t pleaded with me over and over, I never would have had the time for a class reunion. But for the sake of old times, I’d gritted my teeth and asked my superior for leave. I never imagined that, at the dinner table, a former classmate would try to buy my wife right in front of me. What chilled me to the bone was that my wife, Isabelle, actually seemed to agree. “Christopher, oh, Christopher,” Wyatt drawled, his voice dripping with condescension. “It’s been years, but your talent for bullshit has really grown, hasn’t it?” He pulled out a thick checkbook. “The money is a courtesy. A thank-you for taking care of Bella for me all these years. A little something for your trouble.” He leaned in closer. “You? Get me thrown in jail? You should ask around. Who in all of Sterling City would dare to touch me?” Before I could respond, Isabelle threw herself into Wyatt’s arms. “Christopher, I’d advise you to just take the money,” she said, her voice cool. “Don’t make this awkward for everyone.” I looked up at their intertwined fingers, my own voice turning to ice. “This feels… rehearsed. You two planned this, didn’t you?” Back when I was at the office, Isabelle had called me relentlessly, insisting I had to come back for this, no matter what. Now it was clear. She and Wyatt had already rekindled their old flame. They were planning to use this reunion to publicly force me into a divorce. No wonder. All these years of marriage, and she’d never let me touch her. Her heart had always belonged to someone else. The moment I said it, Isabelle’s face changed. She stepped forward, her voice sharp. “That’s bullshit! What Wyatt and I have is true love. If his family hadn’t forced him to study abroad back then, I never would have agreed to marry you in the first place!” Her words hit me like a physical blow. I was stunned. Back in school, their breakup was explosive. The whole campus knew Wyatt had brutally dumped her. Now, in her version of the story, it was some star-crossed romance. I had no idea how they’d gotten back together, but one fact remained: right now, Isabelle was still my wife. A knot of anger tightened in my chest, a bitter pill I couldn’t swallow. “Isabelle, this is called cheating,” I said, my gaze locked on her. “An affair. You get that?” She couldn’t meet my eyes. Wyatt, ever the hero, pulled her protectively into his arms. “Cheating, not cheating, who cares?” he scoffed. “You’re just upset the price isn’t right, aren’t you?” He gestured expansively. “Name a number. I’ve got more money than I know what to do with!” I looked at his fleshy, sneering face and saw nothing but a clown. “Wyatt, don’t say I didn’t warn you,” I said, my voice low and steady. “If Isabelle divorces me today, within half an hour, both of you will be behind bars.” Before he could even react, Isabelle jumped in. “Don’t you dare try to scare us, Christopher! Who the hell do you think you are? You think you can get us arrested?” She laughed, a harsh, ugly sound. “After all these years of marriage, I barely see you. For all I know, you’re off working some construction gig in the middle of nowhere.” She looked me up and down with disdain. “Let me be honest. If it weren’t for the fact that you once had a pathetic little crush on me, you wouldn’t be getting a single damn cent.” A construction gig? The absurdity of it was almost comical. If my identity weren’t classified, I would have slapped that smirk right off her face. Her words sent a ripple of laughter through the room. “See? What did I tell you?” someone chimed in. “You marry at your level. A guy like Christopher, no background, no money… it was only a matter of time before his wife left him for someone better.” “Exactly! Look at what he’s wearing. I’m surprised he even had the nerve to show up.” “When it comes to real power, you gotta look at Wyatt. Throws money around like it’s nothing, and his family connections are solid gold.” The air thickened with their fawning praise for Wyatt. Not a single person spoke up for me. In their eyes, I was just the evening’s entertainment, a circus clown for them to mock. This kind of reunion, with these kinds of ‘friends’… I was better off without it. 2 I tuned out their jeers, preparing to get up and leave. But before I could move, a heavy hand clamped down on my shoulder. “Leaving so soon?” Wyatt’s voice was a low chuckle, but his eyes were pure contempt. “Did I say you could go?” He leaned in, his breath sour. “I’m giving you two choices, Christopher. Take the money and sign the papers, or I’ll beat you until you sign them. It’s up to you. Think carefully.” A real laugh escaped my lips this time. “You sure you want me to be the one to choose?” Wyatt, completely oblivious to the catastrophic mistake he was making, puffed out his chest. “Of course. You sign away your wife, and I’ll make sure you’re set for life. You’ll be living easy.” I fought down the surge of anger, keeping my voice level. “Fine. I can divorce Isabelle. And I don’t want a penny of your money. But…” I paused, drawing out the moment. “You have to let me make a phone call first. This isn’t a decision I can make on my own.” Wyatt burst out laughing. “Who the hell do you think you are, Christopher? I’m giving you a choice out of pity, not because we’re negotiating. I don’t give a damn who you have to call. You are signing this divorce today. Got it?” The threat was unmistakable, but I barely registered it. I was almost amused. “I already told you, I agree to the divorce,” I said calmly. “But I need the green light from upstairs. I really can’t authorize this myself.” Wyatt’s face darkened, and he looked ready to lunge, but Isabelle stopped him. “Honey, let’s be the bigger people here,” she cooed, stroking his arm. “Don’t stoop to his level. If he wants to make a call, let him. My heart belongs to you now. It doesn’t matter who he calls; nothing’s going to change my mind.” She looked at me with smug satisfaction, certain I was just making a desperate last-ditch effort to save our marriage. Before I could correct her, she continued, “And Christopher, don’t say I didn’t warn you. It doesn’t matter who you get on that phone. I am divorcing you today. It’s over.” I thought back on our marriage. I had never wronged her. I sent my entire monthly stipend to her, every last cent. She didn’t have to work, didn’t have to do chores. Her days were a carefree cycle of shopping and card games with her friends. The only drawback was that she only saw me once a year. But apparently, that life wasn’t enough. In that instant, whatever lingering flicker of affection I held for her was extinguished. “Don’t flatter yourself, Isabelle,” I said, my voice devoid of warmth. “I have no intention of trying to win you back. Frankly, the thought of it makes me sick.” I shifted my gaze to meet Wyatt’s. “As for you two… I just hope that after I make this call, you don’t live to regret it. Because when the fallout comes, no one will be able to save you.” I had tried, for the sake of old times, to give them an out. But some people just refuse to take it. People like Wyatt. “You son of a bitch,” he snarled, jabbing a finger at me. “Still putting on a show. Whoever regrets this is a coward’s whelp.” He was about to say more, but I held up a hand. “Good,” I said. “That’s all I needed to hear.” With that, I pulled out my phone and dialed my superior’s number. 3 “Hello? Director? It’s Christopher.” The voice on the other end was warm and familiar. “Christopher! You’re supposed to be on leave, kid. What’s so important you had to call me?” “Sir, I have a situation to report.” I quickly explained what was happening—the reunion, Wyatt, Isabelle, the forced divorce. I had barely finished when I heard the distinct sound of a glass shattering on the other end of the line. “Who has the audacity to force you into a divorce?” the Director’s voice boomed, stripped of its earlier warmth. Before I could answer, Wyatt snatched the phone from my hand. “Listen up, whoever you are,” he spat into the receiver. “I don’t give a damn who you are to Christopher. His wife is mine now, and nobody’s changing that. I’d advise you to stay out of it, unless you want a piece of this mess too!” The Director was probably stunned into silence for a few seconds. I could almost picture his face. When he finally spoke, his voice was dangerously calm. “So you’re the one forcing Christopher to get a divorce?” Wyatt, still blissfully unaware of who he was talking to, swaggered. “That’s right. It’s me. In Sterling City, what Wyatt wants, Wyatt gets. We’re talking about a woman here. Just a woman. I want her, so I’ll take her. Who’s going to stop me?” With a final, triumphant sneer, he slammed the phone down on the table, then stomped on it for good measure, grinding the shattered screen under his heel. My God. I’ve met some brave men, but I’ve never met anyone with a death wish quite like his. “Alright,” Wyatt said, turning back to me. “You made your call. Now it’s time to keep your promise.” He tossed a file onto the table, a pre-printed divorce agreement. “I even had the paperwork drawn up for you. Sign it.” Seeing the documents only confirmed my suspicions. Isabelle had been cheating for a long time. For someone like her, I felt no need for mercy. Without hesitation, I picked up the pen, signed my name, and pushed the papers back across the table. Isabelle stared at me, a flicker of shock in her eyes. “Christopher, what are you doing?” I looked up at her, my voice flat. “What? Isn’t this what you wanted from the very beginning? I’m giving you your wish. I’ve signed, I’ve pressed my fingerprint. Now you’re blaming me?” I gestured towards the papers. “You’d better sign it too. Before your beloved Wyatt changes his mind about you.” My words struck a nerve. Her face turned a sickly green. “Fine! I’ll sign! It’s not like I want to be married to you anyway!” she shrieked, snatching a pen and scribbling her name on the divorce papers. And just like that, my five-year marriage was over. Oddly, as I watched her sign her name, I felt no regret. Only a profound, liberating sense of relief, as if a great weight had been lifted from my shoulders. “I’ve signed. She’s all yours now,” I said, pushing my chair back. “Can I go?” “Wait!” Just as I was about to stand, Wyatt stopped me, a malicious grin spreading across his face. “Your business with Bella is finished,” he said, his voice dropping to a low growl. “But now… it’s time we settled our own score.”

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A car crash erased my memory. In the haze, my sworn enemy Victoria Frost became my fiancée—her family’s choice, and my amnesiac self complied. On our wedding night, a young valet, humiliated by her family, jumped to his death. Victoria calmly returned to our suite, slipping back into my arms like nothing happened. Life with her was tranquil—until my birthday. I woke to shattered limbs, strapped to a chair. “Amnesia? Infiltrating my family? Humiliating Leo?” Victoria’s nails dug into my chin, her smile icy. “Thomas Logan, you sicken me.” Then the final blow: “Your parents just jumped from their office. The Logan Corporation is gone.” I died in agony, my corpse dumped on a mountain, soul denied peace. Then—I woke up. Back to the crash. The Frost matriarch smiled at my bedside. “Thomas, you and Victoria have always been destined…” I threw back the blanket, revealing the supermodel beside me—all legs and smoldering gaze. “Sorry,” I said lightly. “I’m already taken.” 1 “You! Have you no shame?!” The old woman trembled with rage at the sight of the beautiful model in my bed. She stormed out, slamming the door behind her. I watched her go, my fingertips drumming a light rhythm on the edge of the bed. My first act upon rebirth was to have my assistant urgently arrange for a model to come to the hospital. “Don’t you worry, Mr. Logan,” the model had assured me with a wink. “I’ll make it look more real than the real thing.” The door was suddenly kicked open. Victoria Frost strode in, the meek-looking Leo trailing behind her. Her face was a thundercloud, her eyes sweeping over the model on the bed. “Thomas Logan,” she growled, her voice tight with fury, “what did you say to my mother to upset her like that?” She sneered. “Antagonizing me at every turn… you’re just desperate for my attention, aren’t you? Too bad. The only men I’m interested in are the ones who know their place.” I calmly met her gaze. “Who are you? I’m sorry, I was in a car accident. I don’t remember anything.” “Playing the amnesia card?” Victoria lunged forward, her hand clamping onto my chin. “Thomas, that’s a pathetic new low, even for you!” I used the same trick again. I flung back the covers. The model languidly propped herself up, flashing Victoria a provocative smile. Victoria’s pupils constricted. Her hand flew, striking my face with a sharp crack. “Filth!” “Miss Frost~” Leo immediately sidled up to her, his voice sickeningly sweet. “For Mr. Logan to be so brazen… if you two were actually married, can you imagine the scandals?” I slowly wiped the blood from the corner of my mouth. “Who said I was going to marry you? You’re getting ahead of yourself.” “Playing hard to get?” Victoria seized my wrist. “All these years, you’ve done nothing but oppose me. It was all just to make me look at you, wasn’t it?” I wrenched my hand free. “I. Will. Not. Marry. You.” “Don’t act so high and mighty,” she scoffed, her fingertip tracing my collar with contempt. “Even if you were lying here naked and begging, I wouldn’t touch you. The men I like… are considerate and understanding.” Her gaze shifted to Leo, whose ears instantly turned red. I gave a lazy yawn. “Are you finished? I need to rest. The door is over there.” Victoria gritted her teeth. “Fine. Let’s see how long you can keep up this act. When you come crawling back to me on your knees, don’t expect me to show you any mercy!” SLAM! The door shuddered in its frame. The moment it closed, Leo glanced back, a triumphant smirk flashing across his face. 2 Once they were gone, I pulled a prepared envelope from the nightstand and handed it to the model. “Thank you for your trouble. Here’s a bonus.” As she took the money, she leaned in close, her perfume a subtle, alluring cloud. “Mr. Logan, if you ever need my services again… call me.” The door clicked shut behind her, and I let out a long breath. The sun streamed through the window. I greedily inhaled the sterile, antiseptic air—the scent of being alive. In my last life, in this very room, I had signed the marriage certificate in my amnesiac state. I had even willingly handed over all my shares in the Logan Corporation to Victoria. This time, I would not repeat my mistakes. My phone vibrated. I answered. “Thomas,” my mother’s voice was hesitant. “The Thorne family from Capital City paid us a visit today. They… they want to propose a marriage alliance. Would you be willing to reconsider?” I gripped the phone tightly. My mother had brought this up in my last life, too. I had rejected it on the spot. “I know all you can think about is that Frost girl,” she had said, “but you can’t force love, darling. I just want you to find someone better.” “Who said I like Victoria Frost?” I let out a light laugh. “Mom, our rivalry has always been about business. Nothing more.” On the other end of the line, my mother sounded surprised. “I agree to the alliance with the Thornes,” I said, my voice calm. “Their family has an impeccable reputation. They are the most suitable match.” “Really?” My mother’s voice was suddenly buoyant. “The Thorne heiress might be a bit cold, but she’s leagues better than that Frost girl! I have to go tell your father!” After hanging up, I stared at the ceiling, lost in thought. The Thornes were undoubtedly the better choice. They were not just an old-money dynasty with deep roots in the capital, but more importantly, I remembered clearly: in my past life, Thorne Industries was the only company that continued to support the Logan Corporation even under the immense pressure of a hostile takeover by the Frosts. A week later, I attended a high-end auction for my mother’s birthday. I’d barely walked in when I saw Victoria holding Leo’s hand, the two of them inseparable. Leo’s eyes fell on my custom-tailored suit, a flicker of envy flashing in their depths. “Interesting,” Victoria raised an eyebrow. “Following me now, Thomas? How pathetic.” “Don’t flatter yourself. It’s a coincidence.” I turned to leave, but she grabbed my wrist. “There’s a limit to playing hard to get,” she hissed. “You think this will get my attention?” I shook her off. “Miss Frost, you think far too highly of yourself.” Once the auction started, every item I showed interest in, Leo would immediately raise his paddle. Victoria took it even further, tripling the price on a particular antique vase. “Five million!” she declared, looking at me with open provocation. “Is Mr. Logan going to bid higher?” A murmur went through the crowd. The vase wasn’t worth half that. I gently set down my paddle, stood up, and left. My phone buzzed with a message. If you want to marry into the Frost family, you learn to heel. Right now, you’re not even fit to be my boy-toy. I stared at the screen for two seconds before permanently blocking the number. A few days later, I ran into her again at a luxury department store. Leo’s eyes lit up at the sight of a pair of leather shoes I was holding. Victoria immediately understood. “You want them, Leo? I’ll buy them for you.” The store clerk intervened. “Ma’am, I do apologize. This particular pair was a limited edition, custom-ordered by Mr. Logan three months ago. It’s the only one in the entire city…” “I said,” Victoria’s voice rose, her gaze sharp as daggers, “I want those shoes. Now.” I slapped my black card down on the counter. “First come, first served. Does Miss Frost not understand the most basic of rules?” Victoria yanked my wrist, her nails digging into my skin. “Thomas Logan, must you always oppose me?” she seethed. “The more you do this, the more pathetic you look. If you want to marry me, just say so. Stop with these childish games.” I pulled my hand back forcefully. “You really do think too highly of yourself.” I turned to the clerk. “Please wrap them up for me now.” The clerk timidly took my card. Victoria’s face turned impossibly dark. Seeing this, Leo quickly clung to her arm. “Victoria, let’s just go. I don’t want them anymore…” “No.” Victoria snatched the shoe box as the clerk was wrapping it. “In Cresthaven, there is nothing Victoria Frost can’t have!” With that, she dragged Leo away without a backward glance. 3 The next morning, an exquisitely wrapped gift box was sitting on my office desk. The moment I untied the ribbon, a strange, foul stench hit me. The black leather shoes were covered in suspicious, sticky stains, with clumps of hair stuck to the heel. My phone buzzed. A message from Leo popped up. Mr. Logan, I thought about it and couldn’t bear to take something you love. Here are the shoes back. Wore them dancing with Victoria last night, whoops! Got a little dirty~ Fighting back a wave of nausea, I threw the shoes in the trash. A message from my mother suddenly appeared. Thomas, the dowry list the Thornes sent over is absolutely staggering! I opened the file and sucked in a breath. The value of the assets listed could buy the Logan Corporation three times over. The Thornes, known for their low-profile, mysterious ways, had made an unprecedented show of sincerity for me. The rare treasures on the list alone were proof of how seriously they were taking this union. At Cresthaven’s annual business gala, I was chatting with a few friends when the main doors swung open. Leo walked in, dressed in a garish sequined suit with tacky diamond cufflinks. Whispers erupted around us. “My god, what is he wearing? So tasteless…” “Did you hear? He was originally a servant at the Frost estate. No idea how he wormed his way into being Miss Frost’s assistant.” “I’ve seen his type before. Ambitious and rotten to the core.” Leo’s expression didn’t change as he walked straight towards me. “Mr. Logan,” he said, raising his voice deliberately. “Those limited-edition shoes… why aren’t you wearing them?” I took a sip of my wine, my voice light. “Oh, something dirty touched them. I threw them out.” He was momentarily speechless, then sneered. “Just you wait, Mr. Logan. You’re no match for me.” Before the words were even out of his mouth, he threw himself backward with dramatic flair, crashing into a champagne tower. It collapsed with a deafening roar, sending glass shards flying everywhere. “Ah!” he screamed, and every eye in the room swiveled to us. Before I could react, Victoria rushed over and shoved me violently. I stumbled back, my hand landing on a pile of broken glass. Blood immediately welled up. “Thomas Logan!” Victoria cradled a trembling Leo, her eyes blazing with fury. “What did you do?” Leo leaned against her. “It’s all my fault. I shouldn’t have shown my face in front of Mr. Logan and offended him.” He sobbed, “He said my background was beneath him…” “Apologize,” Victoria commanded coldly. I clenched my bleeding hand. “For what?” She suddenly reached out and ripped the jade pendant from my neck—the only thing I had left from my grandmother. “No!” I lunged for it. CRACK! She smashed it on the floor, and it shattered into a dozen pieces. “Next time,” she said, helping Leo to his feet and looking down at me, “it won’t be this simple.” My fists were clenched so tight my knuckles were white. For the next week, the entertainment news was filled with photos of Victoria taking Leo on lavish shopping sprees. I acted as if I didn’t see a thing. 4 I was working late in my office when the door was kicked open with brutal force. Before I could even look up, a cold hand clamped around my throat. Leo suddenly dropped to his knees, his voice thick with tears. “Mr. Logan, my parents are just ordinary workers! I’m begging you, please spare them!” He held up his phone. On the screen, a middle-aged couple, their faces bloody, were kowtowing to the camera. “Mr. Logan! Please, have mercy! Our son would never dare compete with you for Miss Frost!” Victoria snatched the phone, the rage in her eyes about to erupt into flames. “Thomas Logan! You’re a monster! You sent people to beat up Leo’s parents?” “I don’t even know them,” I said, looking coldly at Leo. “A fine performance.” “Still denying it?!” Victoria slammed the phone down in front of me. On the screen, the couple began slapping their own faces. “They’re begging you by name!” I took a deep breath and looked straight at Victoria. “I did not do this.” Leo scrambled forward, grabbing my wrist. “Mr. Logan, my parents are in the hospital right now! They’ve been honest people their whole lives, how could they possibly…” “Shut up!” I threw his hand off. “If you’re going to frame me, at least come up with a believable lie.” “You make me sick, Thomas,” Victoria’s face was ice. “If you want to marry me, you shouldn’t be doing such idiotic things.” “Take him!” Four bodyguards immediately surrounded me, twisting my arms behind my back. As they dragged me out, Leo’s soft sobs followed me. “Miss Frost, my parents, they…” I was forced onto the cold stone floor of the Frost family’s old chapel, my knees bruising with each impact. Victoria threw a share transfer agreement in my face. “Sign it. Transfer eighty percent of your personal shares to Leo.” “Go to hell,” I spat out the words. Leo feigned concern. “Miss Frost, Mr. Logan looks down on people like me… maybe we should just forget it…” Victoria shoved my head down. “You seemed pretty tough when you were beating up his parents, didn’t you?” She pried my fingers open and forced them onto an ink pad. “You’re signing this today, whether you want to or not!” I was locked in the chapel for three days. When the door finally opened, I thought I was free. But it was Leo who walked in, alone. “Miss Frost said you can go,” his voice echoed in the cavernous space. I weakly lifted my head and met his venomous gaze. He slowly untied my ropes, then suddenly shoved me to the ground. The pungent, acrid smell of gasoline filled my nostrils. “What are you doing?!” I stared at the flickering lighter in his hand, my voice trembling. He sneered. “It’s time for Mr. Logan to disappear, isn’t it? How about I make it quick for you? Save you the trouble of hanging around Miss Frost all day!” The moment the lighter fell, flames erupted with a roar. I let out a gut-wrenching scream, which alerted Victoria, who was standing outside. “What’s going on?!” she burst in, freezing at the sight of the inferno. Leo reacted instantly. “Miss Frost! Mr. Logan said if he can’t have you, he’ll destroy you! He threatened to burn down the entire Frost chapel!” Victoria’s roar filled the hall. “Put it out! What are you all standing there for?!” But the fire was growing, the heat distorting the very air. Just then, the main gates of the estate were smashed open by several armored vehicles, their engines roaring so loudly the ground shook. A woman in a flame-red coat stepped through the fire, flanked by two rows of heavily armed guards who instantly secured the entire courtyard. Her face was grim. “Where is Thomas Logan?” Victoria’s expression changed. “What are you doing here?” The woman didn’t even spare her a glance, charging directly into the inferno. Her team moved with chilling efficiency, bringing the blaze under control in moments. She carried me out of the flames. Blood soaked through her expensive coat, but she held me as if I were a priceless, fragile treasure.

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