Category: English

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

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

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

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

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

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At the Film Guild Awards, my girlfriend, the newly crowned Actress of the Year, announced her engagement. My heart hammering against my ribs, I started towards the stage, but she held up a hand, stopping me cold. “Could you please step aside? You’re blocking the shot of my fiancé.” I froze. In that moment of stunned silence, another actor, Aidan, slid past me, effortlessly taking my place at her side. Seven years. Seven years of devotion, of being the man in the shadows. I was done being invisible. As I watched them kiss for the cameras, a storm of applause erupting around them, I turned and walked out of the auditorium without a word. I went home, packed a bag, and sent her one last text. “Wishing you both a lifetime of happiness.” 1 It was two in the morning when Isla finally drifted through the door. She saw me packing and, without a word, picked up the glass of honey water I’d left on the table, downing it in one go. “Richard, what was that text supposed to mean? My engagement to Aidan is just a publicity stunt, the studio set it all up. He’s been drowning in scandals lately, and if we don’t clean up his image, it’s going to kill the box office for our new movie.” She sighed, a picture of weary frustration. “It’s all an act for the fans. You can’t seriously believe it, can you? God, can you just make my life a little easier for once?” As her former manager, I knew all about the dirty games of the entertainment industry. Of course I knew. Tonight was supposed to be the biggest night of her life. She’d won Best Actress for a blockbuster drama that had taken the world by storm. It was also our seventh anniversary. She had promised me. She promised that tonight, she would finally tell the world about us. That after seven long years of being the secret boyfriend, the “personal assistant,” I would finally get to stand by her side. Toward the end of the ceremony, she did it. Standing before a sea of reporters, Isla finally revealed the secret she’d kept for so long—that she was in a long-term relationship. The room exploded. I was the only one silent, my palms sweating with a nervous excitement. “All these years,” she began, her voice thick with emotion, tears welling in her eyes, “my boyfriend has been my silent rock. Without his support, his sacrifice… I wouldn’t be the woman I am today.” Clutching the bouquet of flowers I had prepared, I walked towards the stage, my whole body trembling. But when Isla took the flowers from me, she pushed me aside with a flash of impatience. “Richard, what are you still doing here?” Her voice was a sharp whisper. “Could you please step aside? You’re blocking the shot of my fiancé.” In a daze, I stumbled back. I watched as Aidan moved in, wrapping his arm around her waist, their fingers lacing together. He shot me a triumphant smirk as he deliberately shouldered me off the stage. Then, for the world to see, they shared a deep, passionate kiss. Seeing that, a switch flipped inside me. I turned and left. Seven years of waiting, all for a beautiful, hollow dream. And now, I was done waiting. As I zipped my suitcase shut, the displeasure on Isla’s face finally softened. She wrapped her arms around me from behind, her voice a husky, tired whisper. “Richard, I know you’re upset. But my hands are tied, you know that.” “I’ve already cleared my schedule for next week. You said you wanted to go to the Maldives, right? I bought the tickets. It’ll be just the two of us…” This was her way. A grand gesture to smooth over a deep wound. She’d done it a hundred times before. I gently broke free from her embrace, reached into my pocket, and pulled out a small, velvet box. I opened it and pressed the simple, elegant engagement ring into her palm. “If you’re getting engaged,” I said, my voice flat, “you’re going to need this, aren’t you?” 2 Isla just stood there, staring at the ring in her hand, speechless. She watched me pick up my suitcase and walk out the door. She didn’t say a word to stop me. I hailed a cab and gave the driver the address to my small house tucked away in the hills. Isla had bought it on a whim after her first massive paycheck, saying it would be our future home. The deed was in my name. When we first graduated, Isla had no connections, no resources. She was just another struggling actress, taking bit parts and barely making rent. There were times when the two of us lived in a tiny, cramped apartment, and the best meal we could afford was instant ramen and stale bread. I did everything I could to get her a break. I hustled, I networked, I drank myself into a stomach ulcer schmoozing with producers and directors, all just to land her a supporting role with more than five lines. And she shone. Slowly, she started to gain a following. A low-budget web series she starred in went viral, and she won Best Newcomer. From a nameless face in the background, she skyrocketed into an A-list star with an eight-figure salary. I saw every struggle, every tear. A few years ago, a massively popular fantasy novel was being adapted into a series. The director wanted Isla for the lead. But she made a demand: the male lead had to be played by Aidan. A role that seasoned actors would have killed for was handed to a complete unknown. At the time, I thought she was just being kind, seeing a kindred spirit in another kid who came from nothing. Until the wrap party. I was outside the dressing room when I overheard them talking. “So, Isla,” Aidan’s voice was teasing. “You got a secret boyfriend tucked away somewhere? I’ve never seen you do one of those fake ‘showmance’ PR things with a co-star. Is someone at home getting jealous?” “Where did you hear that I was seeing someone?” Isla’s laugh was light, dismissive. “I just don’t need that kind of publicity.” She denied my existence. A familiar pang of hurt shot through me, but I told myself it was for the best. She had always said she didn’t want to go public too early, that it would disrupt my life. “Oh?” Aidan pressed, his tone feigning confusion. “So that guy who’s always on set, bringing you tea and water… he’s not your boyfriend?” “You mean Richard? He’s just my assistant. He’s been with me for a while,” she said. “Me, date a civilian? Please. If I were going to date someone, it would have to be someone like you…” That’s when I felt the rage. White-hot and blinding. I was about to storm in and demand an explanation. 3 But I didn’t. My hand was on the knob, but I pulled it back. I was a coward. I was afraid that if I confronted her, if I blew everything up, she would just let it all burn. And I would be left with nothing. She was an idol, worshipped by millions. And me? I was just her nameless assistant, her ghost of a manager. What right did I have to question her? Ding! The buzz of a text message jolted me from a half-sleep. I glanced down. It was just a notification from my phone carrier about an overdue bill. Sprawled on the dusty couch of the empty house, my eyes were dry and sore. There were no tears left to cry. I remembered I’d left some important documents and personal items back at her place. The next morning, I went back. The moment I walked in, I was hit by the smell of freshly cooked food. “You’re back,” Isla said with a soft smile, as if nothing had happened. “Go wash your hands. We were just waiting for you.” I looked at the spread of hot dishes on the table, and for a moment, my resolve wavered. I was about to sit down, to try and have a calm, rational conversation about us ending things. But then my eyes caught a figure slouched on the corner of the sofa. Aidan. His shirt was unbuttoned, and a faint, red mark was visible on his neck. A hickey. He saw me and didn’t even flinch. He just stood up slowly, a look of utter disdain on his face, and deliberately bumped my shoulder as he passed. He tossed a set of car keys at me. “The building management called. Your car’s blocking someone. You’re here now, so go move it.” He clearly had no idea who I was to her. He really thought I was just some servant he could order around. “Well? What are you waiting for?” I looked at Isla, my face a blank mask. She said nothing. She just gave me a look, a silent command in her eyes, telling me to do as Aidan said. After a long moment, I let the keys drop to the floor. “Get your own gopher to run your errands,” I said to Aidan, my voice cold. “I have no obligation to serve you.” The atmosphere in the room instantly turned to ice. Aidan’s face darkened. He clearly didn’t want to cause a scene in front of Isla, so he just let out a long, put-upon sigh. “Oh, right. I forgot you’re Isla’s assistant. My bad, I was out of line. Sorry about that.” Before I could respond, Isla’s voice cut through the air like a whip. “Aidan is my fiancé. His business is my business. What’s your problem?” 4 In that instant, my patience, stretched thin over seven long years, finally snapped. I bent down, picked up the keys, and walked to the door. Isla rushed after me, whispering urgently in my ear. “He’s just a kid, he doesn’t know how to watch his mouth. Don’t stoop to his level.” “The press is coming by later for a photoshoot,” she added quickly. “We’re just getting into character. Don’t get the wrong idea.” I turned and looked at her, studying the subtle twitches of her perfectly composed face. But it was no use. Isla was a professional actress. Even when she was lying through her teeth, I couldn’t tell. As if on cue, Aidan, emboldened by his small victory, decided to twist the knife. He let out a low, mocking laugh. “Wow. I guess assistants these days pick and choose who they work for. Are we paying for help, or are we supposed to be worshipping them?” He sighed dramatically. “Since you’re so unwilling, I guess I’ll just go myself.” That single sentence ripped open a fresh wound. Six months ago, after their fantasy drama became a massive hit, the cast and crew had a celebration at a five-star restaurant. I was at home, burning up with a 102-degree fever. Then I got a text from Isla: Get here in twenty minutes. It’s important. I thought, it’s her victory party. She wants me there to share her happiness. So I dragged myself out of bed and rushed over. But when I got there, it wasn’t to celebrate. It was because Aidan and a few of the directors had gotten drunk and thrown up all over the private dining room. Isla, the glamorous star, couldn’t handle the mess, so she called me to clean it up. Sick and dizzy, I spent the next hour on my hands and knees, scrubbing vomit off the expensive carpet. Then I had to call cabs, book hotel rooms, and make sure everyone got back safely. I didn’t finish until three in the morning. Isla never said a word of thanks. She just complained that I was “off my game” and that I was working too slowly. For seven years, 365 days a year, I had no time for myself. My phone was on 24/7, always on standby. All for a few thousand dollars a month in spending money. What A-list celebrity’s assistant lived like that? Seeing her still siding with him, I finally understood. Everything became crystal clear. I took a deep breath. “Ms. Vance,” I said, my voice steady. “I’m afraid I can no longer continue as your assistant. I suggest you find someone else.” A flicker of shock crossed her face. Her fists clenched at her sides, and I could see the red veins in her eyes. “Richard, don’t be ridiculous. This isn’t a game. You can’t just quit whenever you feel like it.” Her words made me laugh out loud. A hollow, bitter sound. For all these years, I was just her “assistant.” We never even signed a contract. I didn’t need her permission to leave. “Then sue me,” I said. “If you think it’ll do you any good.” With that, I grabbed my documents, my few remaining belongings, and walked out the door. “Quitting” was just a euphemism. She knew exactly what I really meant.

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Just because she was worried her sick first love couldn’t handle any hardship, my wife changed our honeymoon tickets and handed me over to his vicious creditors as collateral. “One week, James. A week at most,” she promised, her voice trembling. “As soon as I have the ransom, I’ll come get you. We can go anywhere you want after this. I’ll go with you.” For that one week, they treated me like an animal, torturing me until I was broken. I prayed for her to appear every waking moment. But her? She was casually watching movies with him, enjoying romantic sunrises and scenic sunsets by his side. It wasn’t until the tenth day that she finally showed up with the money, smiling, asking me where I wanted to go for the next leg of our trip. I just stared at her, my face a mask of confusion. “My wife? I’m sorry, miss, but I think you have the wrong person. I’m not married.” 1 “This plane… it’s not going to Paris, is it?” I tore my eyes from the window, my gaze landing coolly on my wife, Leah. The hand she was using to flip through a magazine froze mid-air. She snapped it shut with a practiced nonchalance and tapped me playfully on the forehead. “What a silly thing to say.” “It’s where we first met,” she said, her voice a little too bright. “Where else would we go for our honeymoon?” She took my hand then, lacing her fingers through mine, squeezing so tightly it almost hurt. It felt less like a gesture of affection and more like a desperate attempt to keep me from vanishing into thin air. I didn’t respond to her explanation. I just watched her, my silence a heavy weight between us. She was good at hiding it, but I could feel the tremor of panic in her grip. It wasn’t just her, either. The men sitting around us, burly and stern-faced, kept shooting me sidelong glances. Their eyes were sharp, vigilant, like hunters watching prey they expected to bolt at any moment. I took a deep, steadying breath. “You don’t have to lie to me,” I said, my voice flat. “You swapped the tickets. This is about saving Chuck, isn’t it?” The name hit her like a physical blow. I saw her whole body go rigid. Of course it did. Chuck was her first love, the man she’d dated for four years, the one she’d almost walked down the aisle with. “James, what are you talking about? I don’t understand,” she stammered, trying to rally. “He and I… that was over a long time ago.” I cut through her flimsy facade. “I heard.” “Chuck’s in deep with some very bad people. They’ve got him.” I held her gaze, refusing to let her look away. “He has that heart bypass surgery next week. You’re planning to trade me for him, aren’t you? A placeholder until you can pay his debt.” This time, she didn’t deny it. Her eyes darted away, unable to meet mine. “James, I’m your wife now. Don’t think such crazy things.” She was pleading now. “Chuck… he’s a victim in all this. He’s innocent.” A sharp, cold pain lanced through my chest as I watched her. “His family isn’t innocent, Leah.” “They got rich selling dangerous counterfeit supplements. They ruined lives, destroyed families…” Before I could finish, she leaned in and silenced me with a kiss. It was desperate, salty with the tears that were starting to form in her eyes. “Don’t,” she whispered against my lips, her voice thick and choked. “The Chucks were good to me once. I can’t just watch him die.” She pulled back, her eyes wide and pleading. “Just a small sacrifice, James. That’s all it takes for everyone to be happy… We’re married. For the sake of our marriage, please… help me one last time. Please?” I saw the unyielding determination in her eyes and a bitter laugh escaped my lips. “You’ve changed, Leah.” She didn’t answer. Instead, she just buried her face in my chest, her tears soaking through the fabric of my shirt. I knew then, with a certainty that chilled me to the bone, that she would never be over him. In Leah’s heart, I would always be second best to a man named Chuck. Even if he was a criminal who needed my freedom—our marriage—as a down payment for his salvation. … We didn’t speak for the rest of the flight. What was there to say? We both knew that once the plane landed, our life as husband and wife was effectively over. As the plane descended, my heart sank with it. Sure enough, the moment we stepped out of the jet bridge, a group of men built like brick shithouses surrounded us. The one in charge, a man with a jagged scar bisecting his eyebrow, followed Leah’s gaze to me. His expression was a cocktail of contempt, triumph, and a strange sort of pity. “Willing to trade her own husband to save another man,” he drawled, shaking his head. “Tsk, tsk… now that’s what you call love.” He flicked his wrist, and two of his goons grabbed my arms, their grips like iron clamps. The boss grinned, satisfied, and then shoved a frail figure towards Leah. “Chuck!” Leah cried out, rushing forward to catch him as he stumbled. He looked terrible. His face was ashen, his lips cracked and dry. He was a ghost of the man I’d seen in pictures. Leah wrapped her arms around him, her heart breaking all over her face. “What did they do to you?” she sobbed. “It’s okay. It’s all over now. You’re safe.” Chuck just nodded weakly, his eyes shining with the pure, unadulterated joy of a man pulled back from the brink of hell. I watched them, a hollow, self-mocking laugh bubbling in my throat. The concern she showed him was so real, so effortless. For a second, I lost the will to even struggle against the men holding me. What was I to her, really? A partner to build a life with? Or just a convenient, disposable asset? I had a feeling I’d never get an answer. From across the tarmac, Leah seemed to sense my stare. She bit her lip and finally looked at me. Her eyes were swimming with apology and guilt, but beneath it all was a core of unshakeable resolve. “James, I’m so sorry.” “I promised you Paris, our honeymoon… but I can’t… I can’t just let Chuck die. He needs me.” “Don’t worry,” she said, her voice earnest. “A week. Just give me one week, and I’ll have the money. I swear. And then, wherever you want to go, I’ll take you. Anywhere. Okay?” She stood on her toes, her eyes red and puffy, and tried to kiss me one last time. I turned my head away. Her lips met empty air. “Don’t call me your husband,” I said, my voice cold and dead. “Just go save your precious Chuck.” 2 Leah flinched, but her composure snapped back into place almost immediately. “James, I know I was wrong to hide this from you,” she said, her voice low and urgent. “Please, just trust me this one last time. I swear to you, you are the only husband I will ever have. I will be back on time.” I didn’t offer a single word in response to her vow. She opened her mouth, as if to say more, but closed it again. With one last, deep look, she turned, supporting Chuck’s weight, and hurried away. As they left, I watched their retreating backs, a barren wasteland blooming inside my chest. It was only then that I saw it: Chuck glanced back over his shoulder at me. A faint, cryptic smile played on his lips. It took me a long time to understand that smile. It was the smug grin of a man who had clawed his way out of hell, knowing full well who he’d left behind to take his place. … Day three of Leah’s abandonment. Still no word. Not a text, not a call. Nothing. “Boss, you think this broad is playing us? Three days and not a goddamn peep!” a heavyset brute growled. As if to punctuate his frustration, he snatched a rattan cane from the floor and lashed it across my back. I’d been starved for three days straight. The festering wounds on my body were so deep you could see bone. In the forty-degree heat of the dilapidated warehouse, the cuts had started to rot, a sweet, sickening stench rising from my own flesh. I summoned my last ounce of strength, reaching for a crust of bread someone had dropped on the filthy floor. Before my fingers could touch it, a boot came down, snapping the bones in my right hand with a sickening crunch. The man they called “Scar” grabbed a fistful of my hair and yanked my head back. His face, a roadmap of old fights, was etched with impatience and a chilling brutality. “You’d better pray to whatever god you believe in that your little wife isn’t screwing with me,” he snarled, “or else…” He punctuated the threat with a vicious kick to my stomach. A supernova of pain exploded behind my eyes. My stomach heaved, but there was nothing in it to throw up. Only bitter acid dribbled from the corner of my mouth. “Fuck! Disgusting!” Scar spat, stepping back to avoid the mess. He planted his boot on my chest and ground his heel in. “String him up!” Rough hands hauled me to my feet. My arms were wrenched behind my back and tied to a pipe overhead. The rope bit into my skin, a searing, white-hot agony. My head lolled forward, sweat and blood mixing, dripping into my eyes and blurring my vision. “The hell is wrong with you? Are you even her husband?” Scar taunted, his voice dripping with scorn. “It’s been three days! She hasn’t sent a single message, but she’s got time to go gallivanting up some mountain with pretty-boy, watching the fucking sunrise and sunset.” He sneered. “What are you, the pathetic side-piece she dumped?” His words were like shards of glass, piercing my heart, stealing the air from my lungs. He was talking about the picture on my phone. The one Chuck had posted to his social media feed yesterday. A photo of him and Leah, beaming. The caption read: Nothing like a beautiful sunrise to clear your head after getting out of the hospital. In the picture, they looked like they were on a blissful vacation. Another photo showed them at a five-star restaurant, feasting on a lavish meal. They were the ones on a honeymoon. And me? I was here, in this living hell, where every minute was an eternity, unable to get so much as a sip of clean water. And from Leah? Absolute silence. Rage simmered within me, but I was too weak from hunger to even fuel it. All I could do was pray for the seven days to pass quickly. The moment I get out of here, I swear to God, I’m divorcing her. But I had still, foolishly, overestimated my place in her world. The promised week came and went. There was no sign of Leah. Not even a text message. The truth finally crashed down on me. I’d been abandoned. Her promises, her “love,” it was all just a smokescreen to get Chuck out. And I was the pawn she’d sacrificed without a second thought. “Boss, what’s the plan now?” a wiry-looking thug asked nervously. Scar shot a disgusted look in my direction and raked a hand through his greasy hair. “The plan? What do you think the plan is? The bitch played us for fools!” The wiry one made a slicing motion across his throat. “So, we just… off him?” SMACK! Scar slapped him hard across the back of the head. “Off him? Are you a fucking idiot? We kill him, we get nothing!” he roared. “Keep an eye on this piece of shit. I want to see what that bitch’s next move is. But if the money doesn’t show up soon… go find a buyer for his kidneys.” I lay on the cold concrete, their words washing over me, my heart turning to ash. An image of Chuck’s pale face flashed in my mind, that strange, victorious smile he’d given me as he left. So that’s what it was. The smile of a winner. And I was the fool, kept in the dark, played from the very beginning. I thought Leah and I had something real. I thought we were building a future. In the end, it was all just a story I’d told myself. I closed my eyes, a wave of despair pulling me under. I was ready to give up, to just let go. But then, a sudden, jarring sound cut through the silence. My phone was ringing. “Boss, it’s a call!” the wiry thug yelled, snatching up my phone. He glanced at the screen, his eyes widening. “It’s her! It’s Leah!” My heart, which I thought had died, suddenly slammed against my ribs, a frantic, desperate beat. She finally called. I held my breath, every fiber of my being straining to hear her voice. But in the next second, my world plunged into an abyss.

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Kevin drove over to pick me up. He was always so cool and distant. But today, his new secretary was sitting in the passenger seat. Right then, I knew. This marriage was over. 1 The day Kevin came to get me, I opened the passenger-side door and froze. A pretty young woman was sitting there, a sweet smile on her face. “Hi, Mrs. King!” She was polite, but she made no move to get out of my seat. My eyes narrowed, my gaze shifting to Kevin. He was on the phone, his head down, oblivious to the storm brewing right beside him. We were supposed to go to an auction together tonight. It was a date I’d been looking forward to, one I’d dressed up for. And here was someone else, sitting in my seat. “Hi, Mrs. King. My name is Bella. I’m Mr. King’s new assistant,” the girl said, her smile widening into two charming dimples. “I heard you were going to a private auction tonight, so I begged Mr. King to let me tag along and see what it’s like. Don’t worry, I won’t be a bother.” My heart plummeted. I knew this man. I knew the cool, perfect man I’d married. He kept his distance from everyone. He didn’t let people get close. Our marriage had been an arrangement, a strategic alliance between our families. We chose each other after careful consideration. People had joked that I was signing up for a life of lonely nights. But after we were together, he would hold me, his eyes soft. In moments of passion, the corners of his eyes would turn a faint red. “You’re my wife,” he’d said. “We are one. You’re different from everyone else.” Today, something was different. 2 But I am not some wilting flower who swallows her pride. I am Mary Lane, and I’ve never had to watch my words for anyone. “Get out.” My voice was ice. I showed no mercy. The girl stared at me, stunned. She clearly hadn’t expected me to be so blunt. The coldness in my tone left her speechless. “I… I’m sorry, Mrs. King,” she stammered, her voice trembling on the verge of tears as she scrambled into the back seat. Kevin hung up the phone just in time to see the aftermath. He knew I was angry. A look of weary indulgence crossed his face. He leaned over and fastened my seatbelt for me. I noticed the seat had been adjusted. Annoyed, I readjusted everything—the seat, the mirrors, the steering wheel—fuming. “This is so annoying! Who the hell dares to mess with my seat?” The air in the car turned frigid. The girl in the back didn’t dare make a sound. Kevin’s brow furrowed. “If you’re not in the mood today,” he suggested calmly, “we can just go home.” In the rearview mirror, I could see the woman silently crying. I was seething. “Bella, was it?” I said, my voice sharp. “I’m not in the mood anymore. You can take a taxi home. Mr. King and I are leaving.” The girl’s face went pale. She looked at Kevin for help, but he offered none. Dejected, she got out of the car. 3 Kevin would never humiliate me in front of others. He was a master of self-control. That’s why he suggested we go home. Whatever the problem, we would deal with it at home. That was our understanding. “She’s just a kid, fresh out of college,” he said, pulling me into his arms once we were inside. “Why are you getting so worked up over something so small?” “It’s the first time.” “What is?” “In all these years, this is the first time you’ve let another woman sit in your passenger seat.” He hadn’t expected that. He knew how many women were interested in him. He was a catch. But he’d always been so disciplined, never straying. He smiled, ruffling my hair. “I can’t believe I finally made you jealous.” He leaned in and kissed me, his nose brushing against my cheek. “She’s just my employee. That’s all. There will never be anything else between us.” He held my face in his hands, his gaze intense. “I promise.” 4 A woman’s intuition is rarely wrong. Even though I’d only met Bella once, I knew she had her sights set on Kevin. I thought my little display of dominance would be enough to put her in her place. I was wrong. The necklace from the auction—the one that was supposed to be mine—was around her neck the very next day. Michael, Kevin’s chief of staff, sent me a photo and a screenshot. In the photo, a diamond crescent moon necklace rested against Bella’s pale skin, making her look even more delicate and lovely. Her eyes were red and swollen, but she was smiling. She must have cried all night and received a little “gift” as a consolation prize. The screenshot was of her social media post: [ The boss says girls have to be strong, even when they’re upset! Wiping away the tears. Yes, sir, Mr. President! ] Followed by a series of cute, flexing-bicep emojis and a picture of the necklace in its box. My blood ran cold. I have to admit, it was hard to swallow. It felt like finding a dead mosquito squashed on a pristine white handkerchief. It was a strange, unsettling feeling. For a moment, I wanted to jump into my yellow Ferrari, redline it to her office, and slap her across the face. But then I looked at my own hands and thought, why am I even giving this cheap little tramp the time of day? I called my personal shopper at Hermès. Her voice was practically vibrating with excitement. “Don’t you worry, Mrs. King,” she promised. “I’ll move heaven and earth if I have to, but I’ll get you everything you need. It will all be delivered today!” And so, that afternoon, before the end of the workday, every single female executive assistant and senior administrator at King Corp—forty-six women in total, everyone except Bella—received a generous gift from the CEO’s wife: a twelve-thousand-dollar Hermès necklace. It wasn’t as expensive as the two-hundred-thousand-dollar auction piece, but the sheer volume of it made a statement. Michael, ever the smooth operator, instructed each recipient to post a picture on their social media with the caption: [ The boss’s wife says every girl deserves the best! Flexing my muscles. Yes, ma’am, Mrs. King! ] The women were more than happy to oblige. The executive assistants and senior admins were the gossip hub of the entire company. A gift from the CEO’s wife? They were ecstatic to post. Some of the savvier ones even added their own little flair: [Mrs. King really knows how to play the game!] Individually, these assistants might not have had much influence, but their collective reach was terrifying. Within half an hour, the entire company knew that the boss’s wife had gifted them all Hermès necklaces. As for why… the rumor mills were working overtime. Bella’s face was ashen. She looked utterly humiliated. With red-rimmed eyes, she fled to the bathroom and took off the diamond necklace. Two colleagues who came in to touch up their makeup saw her and snickered. Mortified, Bella kept her head down and hurried out, the sound of their laughter chasing her down the hall. Her cheeks burning, she put the necklace back in its box and returned it, untouched, to Kevin. 5 Kevin had just finished a video call with a partner when he saw her standing there, clutching the necklace box, looking miserable. She’d clearly been crying again. “What’s wrong?” he asked. Tears welled in Bella’s eyes before she could even speak. “Mr. King,” she whispered, her voice choked with sobs, “you should take this back. I can’t accept it.” A flicker of annoyance crossed Kevin’s handsome face. His gut told him something had happened, but he didn’t press. He just watched her. Bella bit her lip, hesitating, before finally telling him everything that had happened in the office that day. “I’m so sorry, Mr. King. I’m always causing trouble for you. I was just trying to cheer myself up with that post. I don’t know how Mrs. King found out.” She sniffled pitifully. “I didn’t think she would get so angry.” She looked like a sad little bunny. “Mr. King, I want to apologize to her. I can explain everything to her in person.” Kevin never looked at social media. His life was consumed by work. But as the CEO of a major corporation, he was all too familiar with the vicious cycle of office gossip. His already stern face grew even colder. “I see,” he said, his voice low. 6 That night, Kevin brought Bella home. The girl stood timidly behind him. “I asked Bella to come so she could explain things to you in person,” Kevin said with a sigh. “Mary, Bella is just my secretary. I gave her a gift to apologize for what happened yesterday. That’s all.” I stirred my spoon in the bird’s nest soup our cook had prepared and took a sip. “I’m sorry, Mrs. King,” Bella said, bowing deeply. She looked terrified, fragile. “It was the first time I’d ever received such an expensive gift. I got carried away. If I did something to upset you, please tell me. I’ll change, I promise!” I raised an eyebrow. “Bella, is it?” She glanced at Kevin, as if drawing courage from him, and nodded slowly. Seeing this little lamb trying to go head-to-head with me was almost comical. “I’m not your teacher, and I’m not your boss. I don’t have time to teach you how to behave. But I am Kevin King’s wife. And I don’t give second chances to anyone who tries to get too close to my husband.” The girl had probably never met anyone as direct as me in her entire life. Her face flushed, and she looked even more helpless. “Mary, Bella came to apologize,” Kevin said. He knew my temperament, my methods. Even if he didn’t approve of what I’d done, he understood why I’d done it. That’s why he’d agreed to let her come and apologize. He was trying to meet me halfway, to clear up the misunderstanding. We were both smart people. We could read each other with a single glance. “I know.” I decided to give him a chance. After all, he hadn’t actually cheated. “But there won’t be a next time. Not with anyone.” 7 “You didn’t have to resort to those kinds of tactics with her,” Kevin said as we were getting ready for bed. “You should have just told me.” I sat at my vanity, brushing my hair, staring at his handsome reflection in the mirror. “You knew I liked that necklace, but you gave it to another woman. Don’t I have a right to be angry?” I couldn’t imagine what I would do if this perfect man were ever to become tainted. Could I still love him? Kevin calmly poured himself a glass of ice water. “She cried all night because of your misunderstanding. I saw how swollen her eyes were in the morning, so I gave her the necklace as an apology.” His story was flawless. I studied him for a long moment. Two hundred thousand dollars was nothing to us. Giving it away on a whim was plausible. It just depended on whether the recipient was worth it. His fingers tapped against the marble countertop. He was waiting for me to think. This was the first time a third person had caused a rift between us. Our upbringings, our dispositions—we were both weary of this kind of drama. We were people who valued our dignity. “Kevin, I love you,” I said suddenly. His fingers stilled. He clearly hadn’t expected that. “Kevin, I love the version of you that is untouched, pure. That’s what sets you apart. You used to keep your distance from other women because you had emotional boundaries, because you wanted a clean marriage. I wasn’t like that before, but your values changed me. Now, we want the same thing. I hope our marriage never has to face a crossroads.” “It won’t,” he said, a note of frustration in his voice. “I haven’t done anything.” 8 Kevin was a very clear-headed person. He knew I was bothered, so he wouldn’t give Bella any more false hope. Without the CEO’s favor, Bella, as an intern, was relegated to the most basic tasks. Before, she’d had a chance to work the front desk. Now, Michael wouldn’t even put her on the schedule. I didn’t tell anyone to ostracize her. I trusted Kevin to handle it. But in a place like this, I didn’t need to. There were plenty of people willing to kiss up and kick down. Within two weeks, the new secretary couldn’t handle the fall from grace and the psychological pressure. She lost a noticeable amount of weight. The turning point came after an important board meeting. Bella had been assigned to clean the small conference room by herself. She was on her knees in a skirt suit, painstakingly scraping gum off the carpet with a razor blade. Kevin, who had returned to retrieve something, walked in on this scene. Sensing someone behind her, the girl scrambled to her feet, mortified. Kevin’s gaze was deep and cold. His silent stare stripped Bella of the last shreds of her dignity. “Mr. King,” she whispered, tears rolling down her cheeks. She wasn’t acting. Kevin was the sun she admired but could never touch. She had almost resigned herself to being marginalized. But to be seen like this… she wanted to push him away and run. In just two weeks, the once cheerful and lively girl had become this fragile. It was the first time I’d ever seen Kevin truly angry. He came home and slammed the glass of water I handed him onto the floor. It shattered. “Why won’t you just leave her alone?” he roared. “Mary, I respect you, I love you. I’ve tolerated your insults and your cruelty towards her time and time again. What kind of pleasure do you get from bullying someone weaker than you?” I remembered then. When Kevin was studying abroad, his younger sister, who was in middle school, had jumped to her death because of school bullying. It was a scar on his heart that would never heal, something he despised with a passion. “Mary, don’t let me see you use these tactics to hurt someone ever again. If you do, I won’t stand by and watch!” I stared at the man who had lost control. It was the first time since we’d been married that Kevin had lost his temper with me, all for another woman, for something I hadn’t even done. It was a terrible feeling. Like shattered glass. Like spilled water that could never be recovered.

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The annual company gala was just around the corner, and a memo dropped: every department had to perform. The moment the news hit, our department’s group chat exploded. 【I signed up for a job, not a circus.】 【Why should we have to dance like monkeys for our corporate overlords?】 I pleaded with them. 【Come on, guys. I just got every single one of you a ten-thousand-dollar bonus and a week of paid vacation. Can you just help me out on this one?】 【That’s a separate issue. Don’t think just because you’re the manager and you throw us a few scraps, you can order us around!】 【Yeah, what she said! Let’s all just quit! Time for Gen Z to fix this toxic workplace!】 And so, I signed their resignation letters. “You want to quit? Fine. Approved.” 1 【To my dearest team: Per upper management’s request, the annual gala will feature a talent competition between departments, with prizes for the winning teams. Please feel free to share any and all ideas for our department’s performance.】 After sending the message, I waited, my stomach in knots. Ten minutes passed. The chat remained a digital graveyard. 【Look, I know getting on stage is a big ask for some of you,】 I typed, trying a softer approach. 【But it’s a directive from the top, so we don’t have much of a choice. How about we do something simple, like a group poetry reading?】 【I’m not aiming for any awards. We just need to get through this. There are a lot of us, so each person would only have to say a line or two. What do you think?】 After another agonizing silence, a single message broke the stillness. 【I’m here to work, not to be part of a talent show.】 That one sentence was a stone tossed into a still pond, and the ripples turned into a tidal wave. 【Exactly. We’re employees, not court jesters for a bunch of soulless suits.】 【Even zoos have banned animal performances. Are we supposed to be less than animals, parading around for their amusement?】 【I’m not a monkey. I’m not doing it.】 【Me neither!】 【Count me out!】 … I kept my cool, patiently trying to reason with them. 【This performance is a chance to showcase our department’s teamwork and unity, to show the higher-ups what we’re made of. I hope you won’t see it as a burden.】 【Ariel, if you want to go up there and sing a solo, be my guest. Just don’t drag us down with you.】 【I’m completely tone-deaf,】 I admitted, 【and the company requires full participation. But don’t worry, I’ll be right up there on stage with you all.】 【Slaving away nine-to-five is exhausting enough. Now we have to play the dancing monkey after hours to entertain the bosses?】 【What a garbage idea for a gala. No way I’m making a fool of myself like that.】 They spoke without a shred of restraint, completely ignoring the fact that I, their manager, was in the chat, reading every word. An icy chill crept from my heart out to my fingertips. I had expected some grumbling, but I never imagined such vehement opposition. Still, an order was an order. It had to be done. Left with no other choice, I humbled myself, practically begging. 【I’m just a worker bee like you guys. Please, don’t make this impossible for me.】 【I sympathize, Ariel, I really do. But sorry, I’m not getting on that stage.】 【Please, guys… think about the week-long, all-expenses-paid vacation I got for you, and the ten-thousand-dollar bonus for each of you. Just do this one thing for me. As a favor. Please?】 2 Though I was a department manager, I never pulled rank. I treated my team like friends, always going to bat for them, fighting for every possible perk and bonus. In the first half of the year, I’d secured that paid vacation for the entire department. In the second half, I’d wrangled a $10,000 bonus for every single person. These were benefits no other department received, extras that I had fought tooth and nail with the CEO for days to get. I knew their jobs were demanding, so I seized every opportunity to reward their hard work. Honestly, compared to other managers in the company, I was as good as it got. I believed that by fostering a friendship with my subordinates, they’d be more cooperative at work. I was wrong. 【That was then, this is now,】 one message read. 【Don’t think just because you’re the manager and you do us a few ‘favors,’ you can just boss us around!】 The person who sent that, Cassie, had once accidentally sent a client our internal cost sheet instead of the official price quote, a mistake that cost the company a fortune. The board wanted her fired. She came to my office, sobbing, begging me to intervene. At the management meeting, I took full responsibility. I offered up my entire year-end bonus to give her a second chance. I vividly remember how she cried with gratitude after the official penalty was announced, swearing she’d look up to me like an older sister forever. 【Yeah, you chose to fight the boss for that bonus. We didn’t force you. That’s your job. Stop acting like you’re doing us some grand charity.】 This came from Leo. He came from a poor family, and during his internship, his meager salary barely covered his rent, let alone the money he sent home for his father’s medical bills. To save money, he’d hide away at lunch to eat dry bread. When I found out, I started ordering him a proper meal every day, paying for it out of my own pocket. I covered his lunch for his entire final year of internship. He never once said thank you. And now, he had the gall to say something so cruel. 【That vacation and bonus were what we deserved for our hard work. It wasn’t a handout from you.】 And this from Audrey. She’d gone through a nasty divorce, and her ex-husband’s family had shown up at the office to cause a scene. She hid in my office, terrified, while I went out and faced them down. I even got a resounding slap across the face from her ex for my troubles. After the divorce, when she had nowhere to go, I let her stay with me for over six months. All my kindness, all my support… what did it get me? A bloody, brutal knife in the back. A sharp pain, like a needle piercing my chest, made my hand tremble as I held my phone. 【If you make me perform, I’ll quit!】 【That’s right! We’ll all quit! We’ll show these capitalists that the little guys have teeth!】 【I support this! Gen Z is here to fix the workplace!】 My fingers shaking, I typed out a single sentence. 【But you’re putting me in an impossible position.】 【Then you go talk to the execs, Ariel! Tell them we refuse to perform! Fight them just like you fought for our bonuses! Yell at the CEO! He’ll cave and cancel the whole thing!】 Each heartless word was like a bucket of ice water dumped over my head, chilling me to the bone. I took a deep, shuddering breath and closed my eyes, forcing myself to find some semblance of calm. If they had no regard for me, then I had no reason to indulge them any longer. I replied: 【I am not going to pick a fight with the CEO over something so trivial. The gala performance is happening. Every single person is required on stage. No exceptions, no excuses.】 3 After sending that message, I walked out of my office and found a quiet corner on the rooftop to sit. Of all the department managers in this company, I was the only one who ran my team this way. The others were all martinets, ruling with an iron fist, barking orders, and using performance metrics as a weapon. Their departments were pressure cookers of anxiety, where employees tiptoed around in fear of making the smallest mistake. But not mine. I had always been gentle, cultivating a relaxed and cheerful atmosphere. I never held metrics over their heads. When our team achieved something, I was the first to bang on the CEO’s door demanding rewards. When someone made a mistake, I would rather take the hit myself than see them punished. If someone needed time off, I always approved it. I never, ever asked them to work overtime if a task could be completed during work hours. They were my subordinates, yes, but I treated them like my friends. We worked together, we joked together, and I genuinely cared for them. Sometimes, even the CEO, Nolan, couldn’t stand it. “There’s an old saying, Ariel,” he’d warned me. “Give them an inch, and they’ll take a mile. The kinder you are, the more entitled they’ll feel. Be careful they don’t walk all over you one day.” Back then, I didn’t believe a word of it. I even argued back. “No way, Nolan. I believe people are fundamentally good. Kindness begets kindness.” Today, I finally learned the truth. Kindness does not always beget kindness. In their eyes, your kindness is weakness. Your compassion is an invitation to be exploited. In their minds, your position as manager automatically places you on the opposite side of the battlefield. How stupid I was. I let out a bitter laugh. So, so stupid. The sun was too bright, making my eyes water. I tried to wipe the tears away, but they just kept coming, soaking the palm of my hand. My phone buzzed incessantly in my pocket. The group chat was still lighting up. I pulled it out. They were now seriously discussing a mass resignation. The ringleader was a Gen Z girl, Iris Quinn. 【Hah, calls herself one of us? A ‘worker bee’? Look at her now, toeing the corporate line. Helping the boss push us around.】 【See? I told you her ‘niceness’ was all an act! She plays the good guy to win people over, but the second there’s a problem, she throws us under the bus! The mask is off!】 【Her Majesty is tired of this pathetic job. I quit.】 【This is just heartbreaking. I’m out too.】 【Let’s all walk out together. We’ll see how the company functions without us.】 I scanned the chat history. It was Iris who first brought up the idea of a mass resignation, and she was the one fanning the flames. It was also her who sent the first inflammatory message after my initial announcement: 【I’m here to work, not to be part of a talent show.】 I remembered her. A young girl, fresh out of college. She’d flubbed her first interview, she was so nervous. She had begged me for another chance, and my heart softened. I arranged a second interview for her, and that’s how she got the job. Because she was so young, I’d always looked out for her, even running interference and taking drinks for her at company functions. I never thought that the same girl who called me “sis” every day would be the first to plunge the knife into my back. And then encourage everyone else to give it a twist. You really can’t judge a book by its cover. And so, I typed one last message into the group chat. 【Fine. For those of you resigning, please submit your formal letters.】 The chat went dead silent. They probably expected me to do what I always did: coax them, plead with them, give them an easy way out. They thought I would march into the CEO’s office and fight their battle, forcing him to cancel the performance. That would have been their victory. But they never, ever imagined that this time, I had no intention of playing their game. 4 As I walked back from the rooftop, I could hear the commotion from my office before I even reached the door. “So we quit! What’s the big deal? It’s time for us worker bees to unite and fight back against these ridiculous rules!” It was Iris, riling everyone up again. I frowned. What was she trying to achieve by pushing everyone to quit? What was in it for her if the entire department walked out? Another, more timid voice piped up. “I don’t know… quitting over something like this seems a bit extreme. I actually like my job here.” Iris’s voice boomed. “What are you afraid of? Ariel is just bluffing. She’d never dare to actually sign off on our resignations. We’re just calling her bluff, threatening her.” “How can you be so sure she won’t sign them?” “Trust me. I know Ariel. She’ll come groveling, begging us to stay. Think about it: if we all leave, who’s going to do her work? The department will grind to a halt, the higher-ups will come down on her, and she’ll be the one getting fired.” “She’s right. Ariel can’t afford to lose us. The company can’t afford it either!” “Let’s all hand in our letters together! That’ll scare the hell out of them!” Amid the roar of righteous indignation, a softer female voice emerged. “Actually… I don’t think we should be doing this. Manager Shaw has always been really good to us.” I was taken aback. I never expected anyone to speak up for me at a time like this. “She’s one of them, a corporate stooge! All that ‘goodness’ is fake, just a way to manipulate us. Julie, don’t let her get in your head.” “No, that’s not true! Think about it. Our department gets better bonuses and more perks than anyone else in the company. Those are real benefits. If she was just faking it, why would she go out of her way to piss off the CEO and fight for us?” “That’s her job as a manager, isn’t it?” “Have you all forgotten? The team-building hike last year? She bought every single one of us a pair of expensive running shoes with her own money. And on Valentine’s Day, she gave us all the day off against the CEO’s direct orders and got chewed out for it.” A warmth spread through my chest, chasing away the chill. My eyes began to sting. “And this year,” Julie’s voice grew thick with emotion, “she got us that ten-thousand-dollar bonus. Last year it was six thousand. Nobody else in the company gets that. If she didn’t genuinely care about us, why would she do all that extra work?” “She benefits too, obviously! When we get bonuses, she probably gets a bigger one. She’s not doing it for us, she’s doing it for herself.” “That’s not true! She doesn’t get a cut of those bonuses. They’re only for us. I overheard her telling the CEO that she didn’t want a bonus for herself, she just wanted the company to give more to her staff. You can ask someone in finance if you don’t believe me.” I was deeply moved. Julie Reed. The quiet girl who always sat in the corner, a virtual unknown. It turned out she was the only one who had been paying attention, the only one who remembered everything I’d done. Iris turned on her. “What’s your point, Julie? We bust our asses all year, and now we’re being forced to perform like circus animals for the bosses. You think that’s fair?” Julie was flustered. “That’s not what I mean! Ariel said everyone who performs gets a prize, and she’d even give us extra cash from her own pocket. I just think… getting on stage for a few minutes isn’t that big of a deal.” “Looks like you’ve been brainwashed so long you can’t even stand up straight anymore.” “Ariel is just an employee, too! If we have a problem, we should take it up with the CEO. Why are we making her life miserable? It’s his order, she can’t defy it!” “She’s in that position, she gets that salary, so she has to deal with our pushback!” “Yeah! Pushback! Pushback!” As the chants of protest reached a fever pitch, I walked in as if nothing was wrong and calmly took my seat at the head of the conference table. My gaze swept across the room. My voice was cold steel. “For those of you who wish to resign, I’m accepting your letters now.” 5 They had never seen me like this, so stern and unyielding. Fear and confusion flickered in their eyes. “I’m quitting!” Iris Quinn stepped forward from the crowd, slapping a piece of paper onto the table in front of me. “This company has no respect for its employees. It’s inhumane. I wouldn’t want to work here anyway.” “Good for you. Points for having a spine.” I picked up her resignation letter and looked at the others. “Anyone else?” “Don’t be afraid, everyone! Even if we leave, the world is a big place!” The others exchanged uncertain glances, hesitating. Iris’s voice rose again. “Don’t worry! My uncle just started a new company. It’s brand new, and they’re desperate for people. The pay and benefits are way better than here! If we really get fired, I can get all of you jobs at my uncle’s company.” Her words were like a magic pill, calming their frayed nerves. A flicker of understanding sparked in my mind. I finally understood why Iris was so eager to incite a mass exodus. I said nothing, just watched her with a faint, knowing smile. My stare seemed to unnerve her. A bead of sweat trickled down her temple, but she stood her ground. “Don’t be scared, everyone! Show some backbone! They won’t dare fire all of us!” Her words ignited their passion once more. “I quit!” “Me too!” One by one, the resignation letters piled up on my desk. After everyone else had submitted theirs, one last person slowly shuffled forward. “Julie, you’re quitting too?” “Manager Shaw… I’m so sorry, I didn’t want to pressure you…” I waved a hand dismissively. “You don’t have to explain. I know.” Iris stood there, wearing a triumphant smirk. “Well, Ariel? All of us have resigned now. What are you going to tell the CEO?” “That’s not your concern.” Cassie couldn’t help but chime in. “Manager Shaw, we’re not trying to force your hand. All we want is for you to cancel the gala performance. That’s a simple request. Surely you can do that for us?” I chuckled. “Oh, I can. But I don’t want to.” A flicker of panic crossed Cassie’s face. “Why not?” “Because you’re not worth it.” A notification pinged on my phone. I glanced at it, then neatly stacked the pile of resignation letters, stood up, and walked out of the room. I tried to project an aura of calm control, but no one knew that the moment I stepped out of that office, my knees nearly gave out. The message was from the CEO. And everyone knows the CEO Law of Texting: the shorter the message, the deeper the trouble you’re in. His text had only two words: 【My office.】 Seeing those two words, my vision swam. A single thought screamed through my mind: “I’m screwed.” What was I going to tell him? How could I possibly explain this? I took a few deep breaths, trying to steady myself. And then, an idea began to form.

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My father watched me from the back of his Maybach as I picked through the trash on the street. He ignored the jeers and insults of my classmates standing beside him, his eyes filled with nothing but approval. A moment later, the luxury car sped away, leaving me in its wake. I was still staring after it when a sudden force shoved me to the grimy pavement. A devilish laugh rang out beside me. “Look at the little stray, dreaming of being a princess?” “That’s what you get for staring at a Maybach you’ll never touch.” 1 My father has always lived by a single, unwavering truth: what comes too easily is never cherished. Especially money. That single sentence defined the first six years of my life. I didn’t truly understand what it meant until my sixth birthday. I stood before a cake so tall I had to crane my neck to see the top, dressed in a designer princess gown that cost thousands. That was when he made his announcement. “From this day forward, you are responsible for yourself. I will no longer cover any of your living expenses.” He knelt, his voice deceptively gentle. “Don’t blame your father, Karen. Only by understanding how hard money is to come by will you have a chance to truly rise above.” I barely understood, blinking as I swallowed a mouthful of sweet cream. Looking back, I think that was the last piece of cake I ever ate. It was so sweet. So sweet that every time I remember it, a bitter taste floods my mouth. From that day on, my world was turned upside down. No more new, beautiful clothes and shoes; I had to cram my growing feet into old pairs that were painfully small. No more car waiting to pick me up from school; I walked the three miles home with our housekeeper every day. I didn’t even get new pencils or erasers, and the shame of wanting to borrow one from someone else always silenced me. I cried. I threw tantrums. I made threats. But in the end, I was forced to accept my new reality—the brilliant, celebrated entrepreneur on the covers of business magazines, my father, had no more money to spend on me. 2 I don’t know how I survived those six years of elementary school. The house provided no lunch, as that fell under the category of my “self-reliance.” My first-grade teacher, Ms. Gable, couldn’t bear to watch me sit in the classroom, stomach growling, day after day. She started giving me her own lunch. She tried to speak to my father privately. “Karen is at a critical age for her development. The school offers a lunch program, it’s not expensive. She can’t keep going hungry like this.” My father gave her a few dismissive platitudes and said nothing more. When I got home from school that day, he turned to me and asked, “How have you been getting lunch these days?” I suspected nothing. I sang my teacher’s praises. “Ms. Gable gives me her food! She’s the best teacher in the whole world!” My father’s face instantly darkened, his expression twisting into a mask of fury. He declared that Ms. Gable was obstructing my development. He claimed that hunger was the very crucible that had forged his success. He would not permit such a “stumbling block” to stand in my way. Not long after, my father, under his personal name, donated a new library wing to the school. The donation came with a subtle, yet unmissable, suggestion: the kind-hearted, soft-spined teacher had to go. The school administration, though baffled, complied. Ms. Gable, hounded and pressured, resigned a few weeks later. I cried until I couldn’t breathe that day, trapped in a vortex of guilt, regretting my innocent words. But the true despair came from the crushing realization that there was nothing I could do. At that age, with wings not yet grown, I was nothing but a pawn, moved by forces I couldn’t fight. My new teacher, having learned a valuable lesson, wouldn’t even give me a second glance. To fill my stomach, I had to find another way. I started secretly packing leftover breakfast to take to school. Our housekeeper discovered my scheme and, in a self-righteous tone, reported my “terrible misdeed” to my father over the phone. He rushed back from a business trip and made me stand in the corner all night. “This is cheating!” he thundered. “Have you resigned yourself to being a spoiled, useless brat?” I sobbed, arguing back. “I’m not! I’m just starving!” I clung to the sleeve of his expensive suit, begging him. “I just don’t want to be hungry anymore. Please, just give me two dollars a day. A dollar, even one dollar would be enough!” He slapped my hand away, his eyes cold steel. “Only those who grow strong in adversity are worthy of success. Stop looking for handouts. Instead of begging me, you should be using your own two hands to earn it.” “I’ve asked! But no one will hire a six-year-old!” He scoffed, a cruel smirk on his face, as if mocking a piece of rotten wood that could never be carved. “If no one will hire you, then collect cans. Sell scrap. You have a healthy body. Do I really need to think of ways for you to make money for you?” 3 I had no other choice. I did as he said. Slowly, a powerful sense of unreality and dissociation began to consume me. I lived in the most luxurious townhouse in the city but couldn’t afford a new workbook for class. I’d overhear my father discussing hundred-million-dollar projects while my mind was calculating whether the recycling center in the South End or the North End paid more per pound for aluminum. At night, I would dream of the enviable life I once had, only to wake up crying into my pillow. The cruelest torture isn’t never having something. It’s having it all, only to have it ripped away. I couldn’t stop thinking about how I used to be the center of attention in kindergarten, about the fleeting fatherly love I’d once felt. I remembered the other kids gathering around, admiring my shimmering dress, my brand-new backpack. I remembered my father lifting me high above his head, promising he would pour all his love into me. Then I’d open my eyes to the brutal present. I had become the withdrawn, sullen girl named Karen Murphy. In third grade, a boy from the class next door, Blake Vance, discovered I was collecting recyclables after school. He seized the opportunity to mock my ill-fitting clothes and the once-prized backpack that was now tattered and worn. In front of everyone, he snatched my bag and threw it down the hallway. “Someone birthed you, but no one’s raising you. You look like you stink,” he sneered. My face flushed with shame. “I have a dad! He raises me!” “Tsk,” Blake said, wiping his hands as if he’d touched something disgusting. “Then your dad must be a total loser.” A fire ignited in my chest. “He’s not a loser! He’s the CEO of a company! He’s a hundred times better than your dad!” Blake laughed, a loud, cruel sound. He loomed over me, pressing a hand on my shoulder. “Oh yeah? What’s his name?” I shrank back, my confidence wavering. “Marcus Murphy.” “You mean the Marcus Murphy? The one on TV?” “Yeah.” His grin turned even more malevolent. “Alright. Next week is the parent-teacher conference. If he shows up, I’ll believe you.” I gritted my teeth. “You’ve got a deal.” 4 Deep down, I knew the chances of my father showing up to a parent-teacher conference were close to zero. But I couldn’t swallow the insult. To my complete astonishment, my father brought it up himself. “I admit, I have been neglecting you,” he said, his voice surprisingly mild. “I’ll be at the conference on time. I want to see if you’ve managed to balance your academics while supporting yourself.” The carefully rehearsed speech I had prepared for hours was suddenly useless. It wasn’t just about some stupid bet; it was about the fact that for three years, my seat at these conferences had always been empty. So I nodded vigorously, my heart soaring with anticipation. On the afternoon of the conference, I scrubbed my desk until it shone, wanting to present my absolute best self. I stood by the classroom door, craning my neck, but the person who finally arrived was a stranger—a disheveled man in tattered, ill-fitting clothes. He pushed past me and bellowed from the doorway, “I’m Karen Murphy’s father. Where do I sit?” The few students who had stayed behind to help the teacher all snapped their heads in my direction. They’d all heard about my bet with Blake. Now, seeing this man, they concluded I had lied, and their faces filled with a mixture of pity and contempt. I was bewildered. “Who are you? You’re not my father.” The teacher, hearing my words, looked over, her expression wary. But then, as if remembering the invisible, powerful hand that loomed over me, she seemed to decide that minding her own business was the path of least resistance. After a moment of internal conflict, she stepped down from the front of the class. “Mr. Murphy, your seat is in the third row.” The man shuffled over, deliberately pulling a hole in his grimy jacket to the front. I was about to protest when Blake and his friends cornered me, pulling me aside. For the entire hour, they peppered me with questions, laughing and taunting, making it impossible for me to escape. Tears of frustration welled in my eyes. “Now you’re getting desperate!” one of them jeered. “Should’ve thought about that before you started lying. Blake’s family is powerful. You’ve really stepped in it now.” When I finally managed to squeeze out of their circle and get back to the classroom, the conference was over. I stood there, crestfallen, searching the emptying room for any sign of my father. I scanned every face, but eventually, I had to admit the crushing truth: he had lied to me. The lights in the classroom went out. I dragged my heavy feet toward the exit. Just as I stepped out of the school gates, the man who had claimed to be my father stopped me. He awkwardly fiddled with the hole in his jacket. “Alright, job’s done. Time to pay up.” I looked up, stunned. “Pay for what?” “My acting fee! Two hundred bucks. The guy who hired me said to get the cash from my ‘daughter.’” Acting fee? So, when my father said he would attend my conference, he meant he would hire a stranger to take his place? The man saw my silence and started patting down my pockets. “Come on, hurry up. I’ve got another gig to get to.” “I don’t have any money!” I backed away from him. “Then why’d you hire me? I had to buy this whole getup special for the part! I need to be reimbursed for that too!” He wouldn’t give up, wrestling with me for a moment before finding a single dime in my pocket. The sidewalk was bustling with people, so he didn’t dare get more aggressive. Finally, he gave up, muttering under his breath, “What a waste of time. I’ll just go find the guy who hired me myself. Seemed like a big shot, telling me to get money from a little kid. What a world.” 5 Even as a child, it didn’t take a genius to understand what he meant. My father had deliberately hired an actor, instructed him to dress in rags, and sent him to my school to pose as my father. He’d even made sure I would be the one to pay the actor’s fee. A firestorm of rage burned in my chest. When my father returned home, I confronted him, my face red with fury. “Don’t you want to be my father anymore? Are you trying to give me away?” He shot me a cool, dismissive glance. “Consider that two hundred dollars a loan. Karen, you need to reflect on your mistakes.” Before he could retreat to his study, I stepped in front of him, blocking his path. “What mistakes? Tell me what I did wrong!” He rubbed his temples, his patience clearly wearing thin. “It’s been three years, and you haven’t shown an ounce of growth. You’re nine years old now. You should be able to understand what I mean by ‘self-reliance.’ “Why were you so eager to broadcast my name at school? What was your motive? It’s simple. You wanted your classmates to treat you differently, to admire you.” I was baffled. How did he know so much about what happened at school? But I had no time to dwell on that. “That wasn’t it at all! Besides, you are my father. Is that something I’m supposed to hide?” He didn’t answer, just stared me down with his usual intimidating presence. It was the judgment of a king, cold and absolute. Finally, he spoke. “I have gone to such lengths to forge your character. And still, you disappoint me. You’re just like your mother—vain, foolish, and utterly superficial.” His eyes narrowed into slits, a clear warning. “I never want to see you trying to use my status to your advantage again. From this day on, outside of this house, you will refer to me as Mr. Murphy. I need a worthy heir, not a shallow girl begging for the spotlight.” 6 I wanted to argue, but the words died in my throat. I knew it would be a waste of breath. Better to save my energy. Worse than my father’s misunderstanding was the ridicule from my classmates. After the parent-teacher conference, my life at school became a living hell. I earned a new nickname: “The Liar.” My classmates, whom I had known for three years, laughed with abandon, their taunts growing more merciless by the day. “Your dad is Marcus Murphy? Nice try, piggybacking on someone famous just because you share a last name.” “If you had even one other shirt to wear, we might have actually believed you for a second.” “Liar, that shirt of yours is so worn it’s shiny. Have you no shame?” Honestly, I never understood where all their malice came from. Maybe it was fear of Blake. Or maybe it was a desperate attempt to fit in with the crowd. Or perhaps, it was their righteous crusade against a “liar.” Blake, of course, led the charge. He had other kids draw humiliating cartoons of me and passed them around. He posted “guards” at the girls’ bathroom to block me from entering, proclaiming that someone with such “low morals” wasn’t allowed to use public school facilities. I was going to tell the teacher. I even made it to the staff room door, but I stopped when I overheard his voice. “You think you have it bad? I’m the one walking on eggshells here,” he sighed to another teacher. “I don’t even dare look at Karen Murphy, terrified I’ll end up like her last teacher. Her father is some kind of lunatic, I swear. I’m constantly worried I’ll lose my job because of her. Why did I have to get stuck with this class…” Someone replied, “But the poor girl… I heard she’s being targeted constantly. You should probably intervene a little.” “Intervene? Are you crazy?” he shot back. “I’m not touching that situation with a ten-foot pole. It’s a lose-lose. Besides, the kid tormenting her isn’t just anybody. His family has connections. I’m not getting dragged into that mess.” I stood silently outside the office for a long moment. I lowered the hand I had raised to knock and turned away. No one was going to hold an umbrella for me. Fine, I thought. I’ll just learn to grow in the rain. 7 I grew up in that suffocating climate of exclusion and isolation, and gradually, I became numb. By the time I started middle school, I was an expert at surviving by collecting cans and bottles, barely staving off hunger with cheap bread. Plastic bottles, aluminum cans, cardboard boxes—I took whatever I could find. But life felt like a cruel cycle, the same hardships replaying themselves over and over. Not long after the first semester of seventh grade began, I was caught in the act. I was at a barbecue stand, stomping an aluminum can flat under my shoe, when my father’s Maybach glided out of the darkness and pulled up to the curb. Before I could even process his presence, Jessica and a few other classmates materialized out of nowhere. She stood behind me, pointing. “See? I told you I wasn’t lying. I’ve never had a garbage-picker for a classmate before. It’s so embarrassing.” My hand, clutching a woven plastic bag, froze. I turned to look at her. A boy next to her smirked. “This isn’t my first time. The Liar was pretty famous back in elementary school. Right, Karen?” I followed the voice and my body went rigid. It was Blake Vance. How could it be him? I had specifically applied to a school as far away as possible to avoid him. My fists clenched, and I instinctively glanced toward the car. My father had to have heard them. A tiny sliver of hope flickered in my chest. Maybe this time, just this once, he would stand up for me. All the past incidents… I could forgive them if I told myself he just hadn’t trusted me. But this was different. The truth was happening right in front of his eyes. He couldn’t possibly turn a blind eye now. But he remained deaf to it all. His gaze fell on the crushed can at my feet and the tattered bag in my hand. A smile of pure approval spread across his face, as if to say, Good. You’re learning to cast aside your pride, to temper your spirit. I’m being bullied! Can’t you see that, Dad? The next second, the tinted window of the backseat began to rise, sealing him away from my view. Then, the luxury car sped off into the night. I was still staring after it, my heart a stone in my chest, when a sudden force shoved me to the grimy pavement. A devilish laugh rang out beside me. “Look at the little liar, dreaming of being a princess?” “Still dreaming your daddy is some rich tycoon? That’s what you get for staring at a Maybach you’ll never touch.” Sharp gravel bit into my palms, drawing blood. “So,” Blake drawled, “what should your punishment be this time?” I looked up at the circle of sneering faces, and a hot rage surged through me. For a split second, I wanted to take them all down with me. I ripped the cans from my bag and started hurling them, one by one. They scrambled to dodge the projectiles. I was like a wild animal, swinging the entire bag, sending a spray of stale beer and soda over their clothes and shoes. “What right do you have to laugh at me?” I screamed, my voice raw. “My life is harder than yours, yes, but my heart is a thousand times cleaner than any of yours! Being poor isn’t a crime, but having a filthy soul and a rotten character is! You’re the disgusting ones, the ones who should be ashamed! You don’t even deserve to be my classmates!” 8 But in the end, my strength was no match for theirs. As they closed in, kicking and punching, my homeroom teacher, Ms. Albright, appeared out of nowhere and pulled them off me. She called their parents and explained the situation. Jessica’s mother, without hesitation, slapped her daughter across the face. “Are you tired of the good life I’ve given you? Your grades are terrible, and now your character is turning rotten too! How did I raise a daughter like you? If you were half as responsible as Karen, I’d be content!” Jessica said nothing, just glared at me with pure, unadulterated hatred. Blake’s parents never showed up. They offered a lukewarm apology over the phone. I knew their type. They had connections. If I pushed for a real consequence, I’d probably end up in a worse position. So I swallowed my anger and let it go. After they had all left, Ms. Albright turned to me. “Is this how you get by?” I nodded. She didn’t press further. “Let me see your hands,” she said, gently examining my scrapes. “Okay, it’s not too bad. But let’s get you to a clinic, just to be safe.” I shook my head firmly. A clinic visit cost money, the one thing I never had. In all these years, I’d never once been to a doctor. When I got sick, I just had to fight it off. Seeing my resolve, Ms. Albright sighed. “Alright. Do you have a parent’s contact number? I’ll call them to come pick you up.” I didn’t know what to say. After a long pause, I mumbled, “Thank you, but… please, just pretend I don’t have any.” Ms. Albright’s expression grew serious. “No parents?” I looked down, scrambling to invent a plausible lie to satisfy her. But I never imagined she would find the housekeeper’s number on my school file. My father, in his quest to hide his identity, had listed our housekeeper as my official guardian. Ms. Albright called and proposed a home visit. The housekeeper, terrified of losing her job, immediately refused. That evening, my father did something unprecedented. He canceled his work and was waiting at home when I returned. He confronted me the moment I walked in. “Whose idea was it to have your teacher come for a home visit?” “…It wasn’t my idea. I didn’t know anything about it,” I answered truthfully. He clearly didn’t believe me, his eyes filled with disappointment. “All these years, and you still can’t let go of your petty schemes. Karen, must you always look for the easy way out? Must you always try to parade my status around at school?” For six years, I hadn’t relied on him for a single cent. And still, he insisted on assuming the worst of me. I didn’t understand. I was his only child, his biological daughter. He’d even forgone remarrying for my sake. Why was earning a shred of his fatherly love harder than climbing to the moon? I didn’t back down this time. “What makes you so certain it was my idea? I call you ‘Dad,’ and I admit you’re a successful man, but why is it so damn hard to be your daughter? For years, I’ve survived on stale bread, too poor to even afford a side of pickles. I can’t get sick, I can’t have hobbies, and still, you look down on me! Just like right now—I’m standing here, visibly hurt, and you haven’t asked about it once. Can’t you see?” The words tumbled out, and only then did I realize tears were streaming down my face. A tidal wave of grief crashed over me, filling my entire chest. My father remained motionless, a statue of disapproval. Only when my sobs subsided did he finally speak. “You are injured because you have failed to build positive relationships with your peers. You lack interpersonal skills, and it is only through such setbacks that you will grow. The business world is a treacherous place, filled with sharks. You need to learn how to turn enemies into allies on your own, not rely on my power to clear every obstacle for you. Just like today. You were clearly crying out for my help, but in reality, they hadn’t caused you any serious harm. Karen, you are too soft. I am doing this for your own good. Stop trying to fight me at every turn.” It was like punching a mountain of cotton. I laughed, a bitter, helpless sound. Even a bully like Blake had parents to protect him. I wasn’t even granted the basic right to be cared for by my own father. A thought suddenly struck me. If I had no father at all, my life couldn’t possibly be any worse.

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