Category: English

After painstaking effort, I finally slept with the aloof academic god. I drew a Dare card, requiring me to choose a male to French kiss. I chose the academic god, but he sat there, not getting up for a long time. He said to me with restraint: “Sorry, it’s not convenient right now.” A row of bullet comments appeared before my eyes: [Of course it’s not convenient. The female lead is sitting right next to him. How could he kiss the supporting female lead in front of her?] [Wait until the next round when the female lead draws a Dare to make him kiss her, he’ll kiss her immediately, and it will be a tongue kiss too. No harm without comparison.] [Wait until the supporting female lead gets rejected, cries her makeup off, and begs the male lead to kiss her like a shrew. It’s going to be hilarious.] Not wanting to be laughed at, I said: “If it’s inconvenient, forget it. I’ll kiss someone else.” 1 The surroundings instantly went quiet. Someone advised me: “What’s wrong, Chloe? Isn’t Julian your boyfriend?” “Yeah, what’s wrong with you guys? Did you fight?” “Everyone knows he dotes on you like crazy. Before, the campus wall even posted that when your couple ring accidentally fell into the artificial lake, he jumped right in to find it for you.” “Forget it, it’s just a small game. No big deal. Just drink a glass of wine. Couples always fight at the head of the bed and make up at the end.” Julian gazed at me, his eyes revealing uneasiness and worry: “Chloe, are you angry?” I pursed my lips: “No.” I poured myself a glass of wine. Julian hadn’t betrayed me substantially yet, and there was no need for me to kiss someone else out of spite. Because I didn’t complete the Dare, I had to drink a glass of wine as punishment. Julian poured himself a full glass of wine and said to me: “This round is my fault. I’ll accept the punishment.” He tilted his neck, Adam’s apple bobbing, and drank the glass of wine to the last drop. The game continued as usual. My expression looked normal, not sad because Julian rejected me. But inside, I couldn’t stop feeling awkward, sour, and full. My attention couldn’t focus on the game, constantly thinking about who the female lead mentioned in the bullet comments was. Just then, junior student Bella drew a Dare card and timidly raised her hand: “Um… I seem to have drawn ‘choose a member of the opposite sex to kiss’ too.” She looked around at the men, and finally, her wet gaze settled on Julian: “Senior, I only know you here. Can you help me?” Everyone held their breath, eyes shifting between me and her, seeming to wait for a drama. The bullet comments were excited: [Baby is so brave! Finally learned to boldly ask for love.] [Wait until the supporting female lead goes crazy like a shrew and pushes down baby female lead, then the male lead feels sorry for the female lead and makes the supporting female lead apologize to baby in front of everyone. Too doting.] [But isn’t it not good for the female lead to do this? The supporting female lead is still the male lead’s girlfriend after all. A bit crossing the line, right?] [Whoever said that must be the supporting female lead’s simp. Just a supporting female lead, what’s the big deal? Besides, the male lead doesn’t really like her.] [Later when they break up, the supporting female lead threatens suicide to get back together, the male lead doesn’t care at all and even mocks her to jump if she has the guts.] My palms went cold. I wouldn’t go crazy and push Bella in such a public place. But I wanted to see Julian’s reaction. Julian looked at Bella and frowned: “I thought they made it very clear. I have a girlfriend.” Bella asked around and no one helped her. She bit her lower lip, eyes red with grievance: “I’m allergic to alcohol. Senior, if you can’t kiss me, can you at least help me drink a glass of wine as punishment?” At this time, Julian frowned slightly and looked at me: “Chloe, do you agree? I only listen to you.” The bullet comments were dumbfounded: [Did I see wrong? The male lead actually asked for a supporting female lead’s opinion.] [And he didn’t even take the initiative to kiss my baby female lead. Boohoo, is this really a sweet pampering novel?] [Laughing to death, you guys really believe it. The male lead is just asking symbolically. Even if the supporting female lead is unwilling, the male lead won’t listen. It will only be more face-slapping then.] I clenched my hands and pretended to be calm: “Up to you.” But inside, I awkwardly hoped Julian would refuse her. However. Julian’s eyes darkened. He picked up the wine glass and drank that glass of wine for Bella. My heart twitched fiercely. I desperately explained for him in my heart, don’t be jealous, Julian helped her drink because Bella is allergic to alcohol. But the bullet comments woke me up again and again: [Hehe, I said how could the male lead really ignore baby female lead? Isn’t he helping her drink now!] [Cold face washing underwear literature (trope where cold male lead secretly does sweet things), love it love it.] [But no matter what, can’t let baby be embarrassed in public. Hmph, punish him with chasing wife crematorium (trope where male lead has to work hard to win back female lead).] [Stupid, haven’t you noticed? In a place no one noticed, the male lead is already quietly hard.] [Hehe, must be because baby female lead looks too cute when aggrieved. Someone looks calm on the surface, but actually must have been unable to hold back long ago, wanting to ‘supermarket’ (slang for wanting to have sex) her.] [No wonder he didn’t get up to kiss her. Turns out he was afraid the big guy below would scare baby.] Seeing the bullet comments, my heart sank suddenly. Julian reacted to Bella? I desperately denied it in my heart, but my gaze uncontrollably moved down slowly, noticing that place. It really pitched a small tent. My heart went cold to the bottom instantly. No matter what, physiological reactions don’t lie. I was cold all over, and my eyes moistened immediately. Julian accepted the punishment for Bella. The game continued as usual. But I didn’t want to play anymore. Just wanted to escape this place quickly. The bullet comments were extremely looking forward to the next plot: [Friendly reminder, tonight baby will draw a card to get a room with a man.] [The male lead is a yandere jealousy king, extremely possessive. How can he tolerate baby getting a room with someone else? As long as she dares, tonight he will definitely bully her until her pupils lose focus.] Seeing this line of bullet comments, my nails dug into my palms, so uncomfortable that I almost couldn’t hold back tears. Sitting aside, Lucas gently patted my shoulder: “What’s wrong with you?” I shook my head and said: “I’m fine.” Lucas is my cousin who has always taken care of me. Neither of us publicly stated our relationship, so people present didn’t know Lucas was my relative. Just then, Lucas drew a Dare card, and his smile gradually disappeared. It read: [Take any girl on the field to open a hotel room, and send a screenshot of the room booking to the group chat.] This card was too big a play. Everyone immediately laughed, enjoying the drama. The bullet comments excitedly reminded: [Attention everyone! After this round, next round the female lead will draw a card to get a room with a boy!] [Because the male lead refused to kiss her, the female lead angrily asked another man to get a room with her. The male lead couldn’t stand it and dragged her hand directly to open a room at a hotel outside.] [Asking another man? That’s bad. The male lead is a hidden yandere. When he gets jealous, it’s deadly. Tonight he must check her ‘education’ (slang for sex) hard in the hotel!] [Hahaha, the male lead dumps the supporting female lead to take baby female lead to get a room. The supporting female lead being left here alone is too embarrassing.] Lucas felt this Dare was a bit too much and planned to drink a glass of wine directly as punishment. But I suddenly grabbed his wrist: “Did you forget? You just had a stomach problem last time, you can’t drink. “I’ll go get a room with you.” He was stunned: “What did you say?” Before he could refuse, I had already pulled him up. Lucas has always spoiled me. Although he didn’t figure out the situation, he still cooperated and stood up, walking out with me. Under the gaze of everyone, I pulled another man to get a room, leaving my boyfriend here alone. Seeing this, Julian’s pupils shrank sharply, and he quickly got up and chased out. “Chloe!” But Bella stopped him first, blocking him, eyes red: “Senior, don’t go. I only know you here. If you go, I, a girl, will be scared. “The game isn’t over yet. Don’t worry about others, okay?” My heart ached. I dragged Lucas out, not looking at Julian once until the exit. The bullet comments started cursing: [What’s wrong with the supporting female lead? Shouldn’t she be jealous, then bully the female lead to make the male lead’s heart ache? Why did she go get a room with someone else!] [If she gets a room with someone else, who will push the relationship line between the male and female leads?] [What the hell, the male lead actually pushed the female lead away and chased out!] [Don’t panic. Daring to push the female lead today, he will have his chasing wife crematorium in the future.] [Still don’t understand? The male lead must be angry because baby female lead accepted someone else’s love letter last time, deliberately chasing out to make baby jealous.] [I remember, yesterday after baby accepted someone else’s love letter, the male lead immediately ‘opened meat’ (had sex) with the supporting female lead. Isn’t this deliberately making the female lead jealous!] [Just right to practice with the supporting female lead, practice the skills well, so as not to hurt the female lead’s first time.] My heart sank. As the bullet comments said, Julian really pushed Bella away and chased out. I quickly got into Lucas’s car and urged him to leave quickly. Lucas listened to me very much, directly started the car, and drove away before Julian caught up. 2 In the car, I sent a message to Julian on my phone: [Let’s break up.] Then, blocked all his contact information. After doing all this, I felt drained of all strength. Lucas asked me: “What’s wrong? Isn’t your relationship always very good?” I held back the urge to cry, didn’t know how to explain, just smiled bitterly: “Nothing, just suddenly don’t like him anymore.” “Why, just because of this game?” “Yeah, just because of this game.” Lucas was stunned and persuaded me: “Are you willing? Didn’t you chase him for two years? Just let it go like that?” I gripped the phone tightly. Yeah, that’s Julian, the person I spent two years to sleep with. He is the academic god of the Mathematics Department at Tsinghua University. A random photo of him taken by a passerby posted online can break 100 million views. He is the campus beau. Also the sole heir of the Jiang Group, with unlimited future. Yet in matters of passion, he is restrained and polite. We just rolled together for the first time last night. While kissing him, I took the opportunity to touch his abs. And specifically picked sensitive places, forcing him to let out nice-sounding muffled groans. He clearly had taken off his clothes, propping himself over me, eyes red at the corners, politely and restrainedly asked me: “Chloe, I want you, may I?” I endured uncomfortably: “Clothes are off, don’t ask about this kind of thing, just do it.” My tears fell. So, he tasted the forbidden fruit with me out of spite because the female lead received a love letter? Just to make her jealous? And practice on me by the way? I pieced together this story from the bullet comments. I am the vicious supporting female lead in a sweet pampering novel. Bella is the female lead of the sweet pampering novel. She saved Julian’s father. Julian’s father had a sudden heart attack. Bella performed CPR in time and helped send him to the hospital. Knowing the two were schoolmates, Julian’s father asked Julian to take care of her. According to the plot, under my constant courting of death (making trouble), Julian felt more and more distressed for Bella, holding her as the apple of his eye. The more I acted up, the further I pushed him away. After graduation, I became more and more frenzied. Even took advantage of Julian working overtime, wearing a short skirt with nothing underneath to hide at the entrance of his company to seduce him. But was discovered by the security guard uncle on duty, dragged into the grass and violated. He and Bella happened to see this scene while walking. He covered her eyes, gently told her not to look, saying it was dirty. That night, I couldn’t bear the humiliation and jumped into the river to commit suicide. My parents died in a car accident because they couldn’t bear the huge psychological pressure. I could never imagine that I would go to this extent for Julian. This is not like me at all. I don’t want to ruin my life for him. While I don’t love him that much yet, better to let go early. Before he proposes breaking up, I propose breaking up first, cutting ties with him completely. 3 Of course, Lucas and I didn’t go to get a room. But according to the rules of Truth or Dare, we still Photoshopped a screenshot of room booking and sent it to the group, then obediently returned to the dorm. Pushed open the dorm door. Roommate saw me, eyes wide: “What’s wrong Chloe, what happened, why is your makeup ruined from crying?” I froze, realizing I had cried. I was raised like a boy by my family since young, didn’t really know how to dress up. To give Julian face tonight, I happily put on full makeup, and asked my roommate who is good at dressing up to help me match clothes. Before the gathering, I looked in the mirror, knowing for the first time I could be so pretty. But now. Makeup ruined from crying. I also broke up with Julian. I said dully: “Nothing, just broke up.” My roommate saw I was in a bad mood and didn’t ask more: “No matter the reason, you are so good, him breaking up with you is his loss. “By the way Chloe, are you hungry? I happen to be going to the cafeteria, just right to bring you dinner.” I nodded gratefully. After the roommate left, I lowered my head and deleted the sex toys I ordered last night one by one. Last night tasted the forbidden fruit for the first time, knew the taste, wanted to try many gameplays with Julian. I even held the app and asked him: “What toys do you like to use with me? Rabbit tail, handcuffs, body chains, pick whatever.” His ears were completely red, cool voice containing a bit of huskiness: “Don’t rush. If you like, we can try them one by one slowly.” Now, probably no need to try anymore. My phone received a call from a strange number. After I hung up, the phone rang again. I clicked answer, an anxious voice came from the other side: “Chloe, where are you?” It was Julian. I wiped my tears, voice cold: “Didn’t you see the room booking record in the group?” Julian breathed rapidly, as if running: “Chloe, don’t be impulsive, I’m coming to find you right now.” I smiled mockingly: “What are you coming for, to deliver condoms?” The voice on the other side stopped abruptly. Maybe the bullet comments aroused my rebellious psychology. Using me for practice, right? Using me to make the female lead jealous, right? I spoke indiscriminately: “Julian, actually I didn’t like you that much. Chasing you was just to sleep with you. Now that I’ve slept with you, it feels just like that. “Actually your skills are quite bad. I didn’t feel good at all last night. I’m going to change to someone else now. Those little toys, won’t try with you anymore.” Finished speaking, I hung up the phone. I lay on the bed, lifting my arm to block my wet eyes. We. Completely ended. 4 Early the next morning, I saw Julian in the elective class. Before, to chase him, I deliberately signed up for the same elective class as him, just to see him a few more times in class. Didn’t expect to shoot myself in the foot now. Although dating him before, I had no real sense of his family background. But after breaking up, I realized with hindsight that Julian was someone even the principal dared not offend. Thinking of me complaining about his bad skills yesterday, I was very worried he would retaliate against me. I arrived at the classroom just before class started, sneaking to sit with friends in the back row, acting very stealthy. As soon as the bell rang for the end of class, I quickly packed my things, fleeing in panic to hide far away, just wanting to be as far from Julian as possible. Who could have thought, just dodged Julian here, and over there got entangled by Lucas because of the mixer event before. At this moment, Lucas pulled me to the corner, crying to me: “Chloe, I went to the mixer to find a girlfriend. Now to act with you, they are all saying you are my girlfriend. “I became a savage who can’t find a girlfriend. You have to compensate me.” Hearing him say this, a trace of guilt rose in my heart: “Say it, how to compensate you.” Lucas smiled and said: “Buy me a pair of basketball shoes. I have a basketball game next week, urgently need a pair of good shoes.” I widened my eyes, couldn’t help complaining: “You really open your mouth like a lion.” “Just say yes or no?” “Fine.” Basketball game, there is indeed such a game next Saturday. But I remember, Julian will also participate in this game. The two are competitors. I used to worry about whether to cheer for my boyfriend or my cousin. I even originally planned to buy a pair of basketball shoes to give Julian for the game. But now we broke up. Unexpectedly, going around in circles, it changed to me buying shoes for Lucas. Wednesday afternoon no class, I went to the mall near the school to pick shoes, taking pictures of the shelves, messaging Lucas asking what kind he liked. Just then, suddenly bumped into familiar figures. It was Bella and her best friend Lily. Bella held a cup of coffee, seemed to have discovered my existence too, glancing at me from time to time. Every time touching me, panicked and moved away, followed by a burst of suppressed laughter. Lily deliberately mentioned: “Bella, why are you browsing the men’s basketball shoes section?” Bella blushed: “On the day of the mixer, I drew the Dare to get a room with the opposite sex. He bailed me out, of course I have to thank him. “This game, I want to give him a pair of shoes to thank him.” The bullet comments were a bit confused: [But didn’t the male lead chase the supporting female lead that day? Didn’t bail the female lead out at all.] [Don’t mention it. I get angry mentioning this. How can this supporting female lead be so trouble-making, directly making my sweet plot of male and female leads gone. Deserves to be violated by that bald uncle in the future.] Lily looked at the pair of shoes Bella chose, a bit worried: “These shoes are very expensive, do you have enough living expenses?” Bella blushed: “It’s okay, I have a living expense card, given to me by Julian’s father. He seems to like me interacting with Julian very much.” When saying this, she looked at me intentionally or unintentionally. I ignored her, taking the shoes straight to the checkout counter to pay. Just about to pay, Bella suddenly cut in line blocking in front of me, saying: “Checkout.” She flipped her hair, elegantly took out that card from her bag and gave it to the cashier. Lily asked her curiously: “How much money is in here?” Bella smiled shyly: “Ten times more than the living expenses of ordinary college students.” Lily showed envy: “The Jiang family spoils you too much, probably treating you as Julian’s fiancée.” But at this moment, the cashier suddenly looked troubled. “Miss, this card of yours has been frozen. Did you make a mistake?” Bella’s face changed immediately. “Impossible, absolutely this card. “Hurry up and checkout, or I’ll complain about you!” The cashier also frowned: “Miss, this card of yours has indeed been frozen and cannot be used. In this case, let the customer behind pay first.” I walked up, quickly paid for what I bought. Bella froze for a moment, looking at me with eyes full of hostility. Gritting her teeth, ruthlessly took out her own money to buy the shoes. Coming out of the mall, she grabbed my hand: “Chloe Song (Original text uses Song Qinghuan, adapting to Chloe Song or keeping Chloe Vance if consistency needed. Let’s stick to Chloe), who are these shoes for? Not for Julian, right?” A wave of disgust surged in my heart. I pulled my hand back hard, coldly saying: “Who I buy for, what does it have to do with you.” The smile on Bella’s face disappeared instantly, replaced by a face of arrogance and warning: “I warn you, don’t pester Julian anymore.” As soon as the words fell, she suddenly raised her hand and poured the still hot coffee in her hand straight onto my newly bought shoes. The dark brown liquid spread wantonly, quickly soaking the white shoe upper. The originally brand new shoes instantly became miserable. Then, Bella opened her mouth in feigned surprise: “Sorry, hand slipped didn’t hold steady, didn’t mean to. “But anyway you broke up with Julian, don’t send shoes to be annoying. He will definitely dislike them being dirty and won’t accept them. I’m helping you lest you lose face then.” Finished speaking, she proudly pulled Lily preparing to leave. Anger “whoosh” shot up to my heart. I couldn’t suppress it anymore, grabbed her wrist hard, word by word: “A-pol-o-gize-to-me.” She was hurt by me, eye rims instantly red: “Why should I apologize, I wasn’t intentional.” I didn’t want to talk nonsense with her, directly grabbed the remaining half cup of coffee in her hand, pouring it all on her newly bought shoes. Bella screamed: “Chloe, you are too much!” Her voice was too loud, instantly attracting the attention of passersby. She red-eyed, as if suffering a huge grievance, pointing at me starting to accuse loudly: “You already got a room with another man, stop maintaining connection with Julian okay? “Julian likes me, can’t you see? You still buy him shoes, aren’t you disgusting?” She accused me tearfully. Passersby cast condemning looks at me, pointing fingers. Just then, a black Rolls-Royce stopped. The back seat door was respectfully opened by the driver. A young man in a black trench coat stepped down, radiating an innate nobility. The young man had superior bone structure, a pair of cold phoenix eyes with faint alienation. Even more handsome than the current top traffic stars. I opened my eyes slightly. It was Julian.

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My sister is the vicious supporting female lead. My brother is the crazy villain. I am the silly sweet girl raised by them single-handedly. At a party, my sister was leading her mean girls squad to tear apart the female lead. Carrying my backpack, I barged into the hall. I slapped my failed math test paper into her arms: “Sis, the teacher wants me to call you to school.” The malicious smile on my sister’s face froze. Holding my test paper, she broke down: “This is the ninth time this month you’ve been called to bring a parent!” At a business negotiation, my brother had wolfish ambitions. He was about to sign an overlord contract to swallow the male lead’s industry. I pushed open the door of the lounge, handing a game console to my brother. Ignoring the tense atmosphere in the entire conference room, I said: “I can’t pass this level again. Brother, beat this level for me first.” My brother picked me up with one hand onto his lap, sighing helplessly while holding me: “Baby, this game is not suitable for you.” He said: “Brother will acquire a new game company tomorrow, specifically to make games for you to play.” 1 Since I became conscious. I knew I lived in a world of masochistic love centered around a hero and heroine. But unfortunately. I wasn’t born well. Less than half a year after I was born. My parents both died tragically. I was raised by my brother and sister. When I was ten and learned to read. I realized that the sister who went crazy every day helping me with homework. Was the primary vicious supporting female lead in this world. And the brother who indulged and pampered me without a bottom line. Was the biggest villain boss in this world. 2 The hero and heroine are the center of the world. Anyone who opposes the hero and heroine will definitely not have a good end. My 10th birthday was celebrated with my brother and sister. When making a birthday wish. I looked at the gentle and beautiful sister on the left, and the young and handsome brother on the right. They surrounded me holding a cake. In their eyes, there was only me. No matter how vicious and cruel my brother and sister were outside. But in front of me, they were the people who loved me the most in this world. —I didn’t want them to meet their destined tragic ending. I wanted to do my best. To save them. 3 But I am really stupid. It seemed that Mom and Dad gave all the IQ to my brother and sister. At a young age, my brother created his own business empire. Solved the family’s economic problems. And provided us with a prosperous life. My sister is especially good at winning people over. She has a beautiful and bright face. From childhood to adulthood, suitors have been endless, surrounded by men and women chasing after her. But unfortunately. My brother fell for the heroine who didn’t belong to him. My sister fell for the hero who didn’t belong to her. 4 I sat in the passenger seat of my sister’s supercar, resting my face on my hand and sighing. My sister was driving and even reached over to ruffle my hair messily. “What’s wrong again? Didn’t understand math class again?” I turned helplessly to look at my sister: “Ethan Chen isn’t as handsome as brother, nor as rich as you. What exactly do you see in him?” Ethan Chen is the destined hero of this world. My sister heard me mention his name. Raised an eyebrow slightly, pinched my cheek: “Actually worrying about my business?” She said: “Take care of your own studies first.” “How many times have I gone to parent-teacher meetings for you, lost face so many times, and been criticized by your teachers so many times.” 5 Before she finished speaking, she didn’t even give me a chance to protest. Directly turned the car around: “I have something to do tonight, can’t accompany you to do homework.” She said: “I’ll send you to brother’s company.” I lowered my eyes and hugged my backpack tightly. —I knew what she was going to do tonight. She has many bad friends, and easily knew the heroine’s movements as soon as she returned to the country. The white moonlight heroine returned. My sister is going to give someone a display of authority tonight. I propped my chin and sighed heavily again. The supercar made a smooth U-turn and stopped downstairs at my brother’s company. 6 My sister got out of the car and opened the passenger door. Seeing me sitting motionless in the passenger seat, she bent over and smiled at me. “What are you dazing for?” She scratched my chin. Pulled my hand to get me out of the car, and put the backpack on my back. “Let’s go, I’ll walk you upstairs.” She held my shoulder. I paused, saying I could find the way myself. “You go,” I looked up at the red strap long dress on my sister. She is so beautiful, why did she fall for Ethan Chen. My sister was indeed anxious. Picking me up from school and sending me here, it was already dusk. She straightened my wrinkled collar again. Instructed worriedly: “Then I’m leaving. Go upstairs quickly to find brother, let him order food for you.” I hummed a yes, standing in place watching her look back three times every step until she finally drove away. As soon as her car drove out of the end of this road. I immediately hailed a taxi and told the driver to follow the car in front. 7 When the taxi drove me away from downstairs of the company. Through the window, I actually saw my brother lazily carrying a suit jacket, coming out from the entrance. Behind him followed several assistants in suits running. Assistants bowed and scraped behind him. And my brother’s face was cold and severe, eyebrows sharp. Naturally had an aura that kept strangers away. He was really sensitive, perhaps sensing my scrutinizing gaze. Actually looked up towards me. I immediately lowered my upper body, hiding under the window. At the same time, the phone vibrated lightly in my arms. It was a message from my brother: Baby, where are you guys? Followed by another one: What do you want to eat tonight. Seems my sister told him in advance about sending me over. I turned off the phone, pretended not to see. Now, I have to find my sister first. 8 My sister learned driving from my brother firsthand. At 17 or 18, my brother was a regular on the racing track. When they didn’t carry me, they drove with a reckless madness. So even if I urged the taxi driver to chase closely. Was easily thrown off by my sister’s supercar. When I arrived at the star-rated hotel in the city center, the lights inside were bright, it had already started. The security guard at the door stopped me outside. Said I didn’t have an invitation and wouldn’t let me in. I was afraid my sister was already bullying the heroine inside. Really no way out. I could only bring out my brother. Fortunately, my brother often instilled in me the domineering concept that I could walk sideways in the city. Fortunately, my brother also had shares in this hotel. After bringing out my brother, the manager came out specially. Wiping sweat from his forehead, he welcomed me respectfully. But I really had no leisure to deal with him. Carrying my backpack into the hall, I started to stand on tiptoe looking for my sister. No way, even for height, I didn’t inherit my parents’ genes. My brother’s height approaches 6’3″, my sister was already 5’9″ when she just became an adult. And I, until now am not even 5’5″.

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1 After five years of battling depression, I finally felt like a normal person again. I could talk, laugh, and eat without being pushed. My husband and I were even expecting our second child. But at our New Year’s Eve party, Vincent’s god-sister, Bella, got drunk and started talking. “It was around five years ago,” she slurred, her eyes reckless. “I’d just had my heart broken, so I went for a joyride while the traffic cams were down.” “You won’t believe it. The moment I sped up, a cat flew out of nowhere and hit my bumper. It let out a yelp and vanished.” She gave a slight, disgusted smile. “The little thing scared me and ruined my car’s paint film. You really have to be careful.” “Don’t end up like my poor godmother, tangled in bad luck. It’s sickening just thinking about it.” Bella spoke as if sharing a trivial, irritating story. Everyone around her laughed and nodded, some even suggesting she visit a church to cleanse any bad luck. I stood frozen in the lively crowd. I saw Bella’s dismissive face, my mother-in-law’s indulgent gaze, and my husband Vincent’s tolerant, helpless smile. My face went pale. It seemed they had all forgotten. My daughter, the one who died in a car accident, was killed five years ago. … As soon as Bella finished her story, my mother-in-law playfully chided her for dredging up such an old, unpleasant memory. My husband, Vincent, just shook his head, his eyes holding a silent, fond tolerance for her antics. Watching the three of them, completely unfazed, my mind started to roar. A tidal wave of absurdity washed over me. In Bella’s careless story, every detail was a perfect match. A speeding car, a hit-and-run, a street where the surveillance cameras were down for maintenance, an autopsy report that determined the death was instantaneous. Slowly, horrifically, the pieces aligned with the facts I had uncovered in the week after finding my daughter’s body in a cold, filthy drainage ditch—a week I had spent sleepless, on the verge of a complete breakdown, hunting for answers. The impact of her words was too much. A wave of nausea and grief rose in my throat, and I doubled over, dry heaving. The room fell into an awkward silence. My mother-in-law’s face soured. “Honestly, what terrible timing for morning sickness,” she muttered under her breath. “Who is she putting on a show for?” I was dizzy from retching, but I couldn’t spare a thought for her cruel words. I grabbed onto Vincent’s arm as he came to steady me, my grip like a vice. I stared into his eyes. I saw a flicker of pity for my physical distress, mixed with a hint of impatience he couldn’t quite hide. I saw his weary affection for Bella. But I saw nothing of the heartbroken father whose child had been stolen from him. I refused to believe it. He had to have heard the chilling familiarity in Bella’s story. But he was so calm. So placid. As if he had heard it a thousand times before. As if he already knew the truth. A terrifying realization began to crystallize in my mind, and my heart turned to ice. “Vincent.” I clung to his sleeve with all my strength, my world shattering in my eyes. “The street Bella was talking about… the one where she was speeding. Was it the back alley behind the preschool?” The pity on Vincent’s face vanished, replaced by sheer, unadulterated shock. Bella’s reaction was even more extreme. She knocked over her chair with a loud bang, her expression shifting from contempt to alarm. Realizing how strange her reaction looked, she quickly masked her panic, forcing a shaky smile. “Nora, you must have misheard me. I never said which street it was…” I pushed myself upright, my voice feeling distant, ethereal, caught somewhere between a laugh and a sob. “Five years ago. The street where all the cameras were down for repair. The scene of a hit-and-run with no culprit.” “The tiny fragment of purple paint film found in my daughter’s bloodstream during the autopsy.” “Do you really think,” I whispered, “you need to say which street it was?” Every word was a memory steeped in blood. Every detail pushed me closer to the edge. The forced smile on Bella’s face finally cracked, and a flicker of panic crossed her eyes. A moment later, as if remembering something crucial, she shrieked, “No! You’re lying! You went crazy after she died, the medication made you forget everything about her! You’re just trying to frame me!” Her words were a sledgehammer, pulverizing what was left of my heart. I never thought… I was afraid that Vincent, a top-tier psychologist, would feel like a failure for being unable to cure my depression. So I told him a kind lie. I told him the medication had clouded my memory, that I couldn’t remember the details of our daughter’s death. I never imagined that my compassion would be twisted into a weapon they would use to stab me in public. In that instant, Vincent finally understood. I had never forgotten. Not for a single second. He raised a hesitant hand, trying to wipe the tears from my cheeks. I flinched away. His hand froze in mid-air. He struggled to maintain his composure, his voice a low, placating murmur. “Nora, don’t get worked up. It’s just a hallucination from the medication, that’s all. Bella was just telling a made-up story…” A bitter, hollow laugh escaped me, tears streaming down my face. I pointed to my stomach. “Vincent, why do you think I dared to get pregnant again?” “I haven’t been on medication for a long time. I’m perfectly lucid. And I’m not hallucinating.” I backed away, step by step, my eyes burning, the taste of bile rising in my throat. “I’m calling the police.” I turned to leave, but a sharp sting pierced my arm. In the last moment before I lost consciousness, I saw Vincent holding an empty syringe. He caught my limp body, his eyes filled with a wretched mix of guilt and pity. “Nora, why couldn’t you just listen? Why did you throw away your medicine? You weren’t supposed to remember.” When I came to, I was lying in our bedroom, my body aching. A sick, powerless feeling washed over me, the aftereffect of the powerful sedative. Vincent stood by the window, crushing a cigarette pack in his hand. I watched him in silence, my nails digging into my palms so hard they drew blood. Finally, I heard my own hoarse voice. “Why? Vincent, you knew how much I loved her!” “Why did you hide this from me for five years? Why are you protecting a murderer?” Vincent flinched. He grabbed my shoulders, his eyes filled with a deep, conflicted pain. But his grip tightened, harder and harder, as if he meant to crush my bones. “Nora, since you already know, then I am sorry.” “But five years ago, what happened to Bella… she was so terrified she ran a fever for a week straight. She almost died. She’s only just now starting to put her life back together.” “I can’t let you destroy her over something that’s already in the past.” “Whatever you want as compensation, I’ll give it to you.” Compensation? My daughter’s bright, vibrant life was worth nothing more than “compensation”? I stared at him in disbelief, then shoved him away with all my might. My throat was so raw it felt like it was bleeding. “What do I want? I want Bella to pay for what she did! Blood for blood!” A sharp crack echoed in the room. A searing pain exploded across my cheek. He had slapped me. Vincent froze, a look of panic in his eyes. He stumbled over his words. “I’m sorry, Nora, I… I didn’t mean to.” That single, reflexive slap killed the last glimmer of hope in my heart. Tears streamed down my face as I trembled. “Vincent, Lily was your daughter too.” “She was only three years old!” “It was her birthday. You promised you’d pick her up from school to celebrate. That’s why she was waiting for you by the back gate.” “If it wasn’t for you, she wouldn’t have been there. If it wasn’t for Bella’s joyride, she wouldn’t be dead.” Vincent shuddered, his face turning ashen. He wouldn’t meet my eyes. I looked at him, feeling dazed. I couldn’t understand how the man who once loved us more than life itself, the man who promised to raise our daughter like a princess, had become this monster. How could he so casually dismiss five years of my unending agony with the offer of “compensation”? How could he hide the truth from me, letting her killer parade around in front of me, bold and arrogant? After a long silence, I closed my eyes, forcing down the turmoil inside me. “You want to compensate me?” “The only thing I want is to see Bella in prison.” The silence stretched on before Vincent’s voice came back, muffled and distant. “Fine. I promise.” After hearing his promise, the last of my strength gave out. The sedatives finally won. As my heavy eyelids closed, the world finally went quiet. The next time I opened them, I was staring at a stark, white ceiling. A familiar dread coiled in my stomach. I was back in the psychiatric hospital where I had spent four years of my life. Vincent sat by my bed, his expression gentle. “I’m sorry, Nora. You need to stay here for a while.” “I absolutely cannot let you hurt Bella.” It hit me then. He had chosen her over me. Again. Despair engulfed me, and I felt my sanity fraying. “Vincent, you’re harboring a murderer! How can you live with yourself? What about our daughter?!” He pressed his lips together, his expression unmoving. I became a hysterical madwoman. I grabbed the fruit knife from the bedside table and lunged at him. He didn’t even try to stop me. He let the blade sink into his chest. “Nora,” he gasped, blood blooming on his white shirt. “Does this make you feel better?” Nurses rushed in, their faces masks of terror. “Get her under control! The patient is having a violent episode! If anything happens to Mr. Hayes, we’re all finished!” “Mrs. Hayes, it was your fault the child died, you were the one who didn’t pick her up on time! How can you be so selfish as to blame someone else?” The nurses’ words were like needles, their scornful looks piercing me. “Enough!” Vincent roared, his gaze sweeping over them. “Mrs. Hayes can do whatever she wants! It’s not your place to comment! Get out!” But I shoved him away. “Don’t you dare pretend to defend me!” “If you’re so determined to protect Bella, then I’ll call the police myself! I’ll get justice for Lily!” I scrambled out of bed and ran for the door. The next thing I knew, a sharp pain exploded at the back of my head, and the world went dark. When I woke up, my head was splitting. This time, my arms and legs were strapped down, binding me to the bed. Bella was sitting in a chair beside me. Seeing me awake, she smiled and tapped my cheek with a file folder. “You’re awake, Nora. You gave us all quite a scare. Let me read you your diagnosis.” She read the contents of the file, word for word, watching with satisfaction as the color drained from my face. “Did you hear that? ‘Diagnosis: Severe Psychotic Disorder.’ You, Nora, are now officially a crazy person, driven mad by the death of your daughter.” “Without a certificate of sanity, I’m afraid you’ll be living here for the rest of your life.” “You can thank Vincent’s soft heart. All I had to do was cry a little, and he promised he would take care of it.” Her triumphant words were like a thunderclap. “Vincent?” To protect Bella, he had fabricated a medical record and personally imprisoned me in a mental institution? I almost coughed up blood. “Why?” I rasped. “Why did you have to kill my daughter and destroy my life?” “I destroyed your life? Ha!” Bella burst out laughing, then her face contorted with rage. She grabbed a handful of my hair and yanked. “It was you and that little bitch who ruined my life!” “Vincent and I were supposed to be together! We were childhood sweethearts! We promised we wouldn’t date anyone else, that we’d get together on my twentieth birthday!” “So why did he have to marry you? Why did that little brat have to look so much like him?” Her grip tightened, and I choked, my face turning purple. Seeing my pain only seemed to delight her more. Her sharp words drilled into my ears. “I hated you both! I couldn’t stand seeing you so happy all the time!” “I picked that day, her birthday, to confess my love to Vincent and tell him to divorce you. But he turned me down!” “He said he had to go home to celebrate with his precious daughter.” “And you, you didn’t pick her up on time that day. I bet you didn’t even know she snuck out the back gate, did you?” “She even smiled at me, thinking I would take her home. Ha! What a shame my car was so… out of control.” “She didn’t last long. Fell right into the ditch. Slowly stopped breathing. She got so dirty, so smelly.” “It was so tragic. As she was dying, she was crying for her mommy to come save her.” “Nora, oh, Nora. It’s all your fault for stealing Vincent from me. The person who really killed your daughter… was you!” I finally broke, spitting up a mouthful of blood and dissolving into wracking sobs. Bella leaned in close, her voice a venomous whisper. “By the way, the night your daughter died, Vincent didn’t come home, did he?” “You didn’t really think he was out looking for evidence, did you?” The words hit me like a physical blow. “He said… he was checking for any security cameras they might have missed…” Seeing my expression crumble, Bella laughed and clapped her hands. “You are so naive. Your loving husband spent the entire night holding me, comforting me.” “I just told him how scared I was, and he stayed by my side all night, telling me it wasn’t my fault.” My heart, which I thought had gone numb with pain, was ripped open once more. Two scalding tears of pure agony burned tracks down my skin. I remembered that day. He had seemed more distraught than anyone, rushing to the morgue like a man possessed, arranging for my care after I collapsed, calling everyone he knew. He was a ghost of himself. And now I knew. He was in a rush… to comfort his daughter’s murderer. The tears finally fell, hot and hopeless. The hatred boiling inside me threatened to drown me. Sensing the madness in my eyes, Bella just smiled. A moment later, a nurse walked in with a syringe. “Look at me, forgetting your treatment. Don’t worry. After this shot, you won’t remember any of the pain.” My pupils constricted. I thrashed against the restraints, screaming for help. The commotion brought Vincent to the door. He froze when he saw my desperate, broken face. “Bella, maybe we should just… leave her be. Nora has always been terrified of needles. Let her calm down on her own.” A flash of jealousy crossed Bella’s eyes, but her expression was all sweet concern. “Oh, I was just so worried. I only wanted to help her get some rest.” She moved to undo my restraints, reaching out to help me up. But in the next instant, a fruit knife, the one from before, clattered to the floor from the side of my bed. A bloodcurdling scream filled the room. Bella clutched her hand, which was now bleeding profusely. “Nora! I was just trying to let you go! Why would you try to kill me?” Vincent rushed to her side, his eyes blazing with fury as he examined her wounded arm. “Nora! What the hell are you doing? Bella came here to apologize, and you try to murder her?” Before I could defend myself, he snatched the syringe and plunged it into my arm. Ice flooded my veins. I remembered a time when I was sick, scared of a simple injection, and he had held me in his arms, comforting me, his own eyes welling up with tears just from seeing me in pain. Now, for Bella, he was the one driving the needle into my flesh. He watched me convulse in agony, then turned and left with the nurse, his jaw clenched. Bella remained by my bed, a twisted smile on her face. “I forgot to mention,” she purred. “There’s a little something extra in that shot. Enjoy.” My body began to tremble violently, and I fell to the floor. Hallucinations started. My daughter, mangled and bloody, stood before me, her voice filled with resentment, blaming me for not saving her. I sobbed, overcome with guilt and self-loathing, apologizing to her over and over. I found the fruit knife again and again, dragging it across my skin, seeking punishment. I don’t know how long I lived like that. Trapped in a world of ghosts and madness, with only the daily sting of the needle to mark the passage of time. … Day after day, I sank deeper into the silence, the hallucinations, the eternal, suffocating self-hatred. Until one night, I woke from a nightmare. Through the silence, I heard a soft tapping at the door. I saw my daughter’s small form standing in the doorway, beckoning to me. I crawled towards her, towards the darkness, a smile of relief spreading across my face. Ten minutes later, a fire broke out in a room at the city’s psychiatric hospital. It lit up the entire night sky.

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Before I died, my parents cursed me every day. My mother blamed me for stalling her career. “If I hadn’t accidentally gotten pregnant with you, I would have been Chief of Surgery years ago.” My father blamed me for his business failures. “Ever since the day you were born, every investment I touch turns to ash. You are a jinx.” They only loved my older sister, Sarah. They said she was just like them—studious, quiet, and refined. I, on the other hand, was like an unevolved primate in their eyes—always running wild, getting into fights, and embarrassing the family. “What a waste of space,” they would often sigh. “If we had just aborted her, this family would be perfect.” Eventually, they got their wish. I died. 1 It was 3:00 AM. I had exhausted every ounce of my strength, but I finally secured the encryption key needed to take down the cartel. But the price was my cover. My identity as a bartender at the club was blown. Fortunately, I managed to transmit the data just in time. Before my SWAT team could breach the building, the cartel enforcers inflicted every torture imaginable on me. They sawed off my limbs. They flayed my skin strip by strip, keeping me just on the edge of consciousness so I would feel everything. I ground my teeth together to keep from screaming until they shattered in my mouth. Finally, the sirens wailed. When the team secured the room, my Captain—a stoic giant of a man—rushed in. He scooped up what was left of my torso and wept openly. “Chloe, I’m sorry. We were too late.” “Don’t sleep, Chloe. Hold on. The medics can fix this,” he begged, his voice breaking. I forced my bloodied eyes open. “Cap…” I whispered. “Donate my body. Anything that’s left… give it to someone who needs it.” “And… don’t tell my parents I died.” With those words, I managed a smile. I closed my eyes, satisfied. I was rushed to the downtown Trauma Center. But the moment the gurney hit the hospital doors, my heart stopped for good. Following my dying wish, the hospital immediately prepped for organ harvesting. My corneas were removed to be transplanted into a patient who had been on the waiting list for months. Without them, she would be permanently blind. The patient was my sister, Sarah. The lead surgeon was my mother. She stood over my body with her team, bowing her head in a moment of silence for the donor. Then, she coolly pulled back the sterile sheet to inspect the donor. Even though she was a veteran doctor who had seen countless traumas, she gasped when she saw what was left of me. “She was only twenty-four,” she whispered behind her mask. “So young.” “This poor girl went through hell. If her parents saw her like this, it would kill them.” I floated above the operating table, watching her. I wanted to ask, “Mom, if you knew this was me—your own daughter—would you still feel sorry?” But I was dead. I couldn’t ask. 2 The surgery was a success. My parents and Sarah were beaming with joy. “I heard the donor was about Sarah’s age,” Dad said. “What a noble kid.” Mom nodded. “Yes. Brought in by the police. Likely a line-of-duty death.” “A tragedy. But her parents must be so proud.” “I wish we knew who she was,” they sighed. “We’d visit her grave to say thank you.” Then, Mom’s face darkened. “That Chloe… she has no heart. Today was Sarah’s big surgery, and she didn’t even bother to show up.” “She’s probably too busy with that shady job of hers. She didn’t even call.” Dad sneered. “Ideally, we’d never hear from that embarrassment again.” Sarah scoffed from her bed. “Who needs her? I hope she stays away forever.” Just then, their phones buzzed. “Dr. Miller? The board has voted. You are the new Chief of Surgery.” It was the Hospital Administrator. It was the promotion Mom had chased for years. Then Dad’s phone rang. “Sir, the city contract just came through. The company is saved.” They hugged Sarah, ecstatic. “Sarah, you are our lucky charm! The moment your surgery succeeded, everything turned around!” The small VIP room was filled with laughter and celebration. Meanwhile, in a quiet room at the precinct, there was only the sound of stifled sobbing. My Captain and my squad were holding a secret memorial for me. Because the cartel still had active members, they couldn’t risk exposing my family by making my death public. The Captain held my urn, his shoulders shaking. “My girl… my brave girl…” He had recruited me. He was more of a father to me than my biological one. The Police Chief patted his shoulder. “She saved this city. We will make sure her family is taken care of.” 3 “Has anyone heard from Chloe? She hasn’t called in days. She isn’t answering.” That evening, Grandma asked the moment my parents walked in the door. She sat in her wheelchair, looking worried. My parents’ smiles vanished instantly. “Why do you always bring up that loser?” Dad snapped. Grandma went silent and turned her wheelchair toward her room. I followed her spirit, trying to push the chair, but my hands passed through it. “Meow!” A large black shadow pounced at me. It was Midnight, the stray cat I had rescued. I tried to catch him, but he fell through my arms and hit the floor. He got up, confused, and rubbed against my invisible legs, purring. Grandma watched him with tears in her eyes. “Do you miss Chloe too, Midnight?” “That silly girl… tomorrow is her birthday. I bet she forgot.” Grandma pulled a pair of red socks and a red envelope from her drawer. She was superstitious about birthdays—she believed wearing red brought protection. I had forgotten. Tomorrow was my twenty-fourth birthday. Only Grandma remembered. In the living room, my parents were chatting. “Sarah can finally see. We need to throw a huge party once she recovers.” Mom smiled, then frowned. “Is tomorrow a special date? I feel like I’m forgetting something.” Dad shrugged. “Nothing special. You’re just tired.” “Go to sleep. Sarah is healed, you’re the Chief, the business is booming. Our life is finally perfect.” Suddenly, a crash came from Grandma’s room. Midnight was going crazy, tearing the red socks to shreds. “Midnight! Stop! Those are for Chloe!” Grandma screamed. My parents rushed in. 4 Seeing the mess, Dad exploded. “That damn cat! I told you to get rid of it! It’s nothing but trouble, just like Chloe!” He kicked at Midnight, who hissed and scrambled under the bed. Mom looked at the ruined socks with disdain. “Mom, I buy you expensive clothes. Why are you hoarding these cheap red socks? Do you want people to think I abuse you?” Grandma clutched the tattered socks. “These weren’t for me. They were for Chloe’s birthday.” “Red brings good luck. She needs protection.” My parents froze. “Her birthday? When is that?” Grandma’s grief turned to rage. “You gave birth to her! How do you not know her birthday? What kind of parents are you?” Dad stiffened. “My business tanked the day she was born. Why should I celebrate that?” Mom added, “If I hadn’t been pregnant with her, I would have been Chief ten years ago.” “That was your choice!” Grandma yelled. “Did Chloe ask to be born?” Dad looked at Grandma’s wheelchair coldly. “Are you going senile, Mom? Why do you defend that jinx? If it wasn’t for her, you wouldn’t be paralyzed.” Grandma broke down sobbing. “It wasn’t Chloe who paralyzed me! It was your precious Sarah!” My parents were stunned. Years ago, on a freezing winter night, seven-year-old Sarah threw a tantrum because she wanted ice cream. My parents weren’t home. Sarah threatened to run away if she didn’t get it. Grandma went out to buy it to keep her safe. On the way back, she was mugged and beaten by a junkie. She never walked again.

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My parents were junkies. Until I was ten, I didn’t have a birth certificate, never stepped foot in a kindergarten, and existed like a ghost in the system. When Jax pressed the muzzle of his gun against my forehead, I stared blankly and offered him the moldy piece of bread in my hand. “This is all I have left. Do you want it?” He slapped the bread away, agitated, and hoisted me up by my collar. “Where are your parents? They owe me money.” I shook my head, lost, and instinctively tugged at the hem of his jacket. “I’m hungry. Can you let me eat something before you beat me?” Jax froze. The tension left his shoulders. He threatened that if my parents didn’t pay up, he’d chop me up and sell me for parts. But then he turned around, walked into the kitchen, and fried me two eggs. I was ten. He was twenty-three. Because of those eggs, I clung to Jax for the rest of my life. 1 Jax had paced outside the door for thirty minutes before kicking it in, gun drawn. The house reeked—a cocktail of rotting food, an overflowing toilet, and damp mildew. He tried to take a deep breath to acclimate, but the physiological urge to gag made him curse loudly. I was chained in the basement. Through the cracks in the rotting floorboards above, I watched him ransack the place. His final loot—a single dime found under a cushion—broke him. He stomped his foot in rage, slipping on a patch of unknown sludge. Worse, the floorboard snapped. He fell through the ceiling, landing right in front of me in the basement. When our eyes met, Jax screamed. After realizing the creature with matted hair was a human child, he kicked me. “Don’t play ghost and scare people, dammit!” I curled into a ball, my whimper silent and controlled. Experience taught me that silence meant fewer beatings. “Where are your parents? Tell them to get their asses out here. Hiding won’t clear their debt.” I shook my head silently. I honestly didn’t know. I couldn’t remember the last time they came home. The bread I had been saving was growing a forest of black mold. “Speak!” Jax shoved the gun barrel against my brow. “Only this left. Do you want it?” I held up the green-black lump of bread. Jax stared at it, stunned, then slapped it out of my hand. “I want money! I want my cash! What the hell is that?” He grabbed me by the collar, lifting my feet off the ground. I finally saw his face clearly. Clean-shaven, pale. He smelled good, like expensive soap. There was a small mole on his Adam’s apple. “I’m hungry. Can I eat before you kill me? I promise I won’t cry. I’ll be good.” My stomach cramped with hunger, my hand gripping his shirt. A look of sheer disbelief flashed through Jax’s eyes. He frowned. “Are you crazy?” He dropped me, turned, and stomped up the rickety stairs. I assumed he found nothing to eat. Because I heard him swearing as he slammed the front door and left. 2 I don’t know if I fainted or just fell asleep. I woke up to Jax squatting in front of me, holding a plate of golden fried eggs. He poked my cheek. “You dead? I didn’t even hit you that hard.” The smell hit my nose, and I turned feral. I snatched the plate and shoveled the eggs into my mouth with dirty hands. “Slow down, kid. You’re making me think I’m Gordon Ramsay.” Actually, the eggs were way too salty. But to me, they were a Michelin-star meal. That was when Jax noticed the chain on my ankle. My world was a radius of three meters. I ate, slept, and used a bucket within that circle. “Are you actually their kid? Or did they kidnap you?” Jax looked horrified. I didn’t quite understand “kidnap,” but I knew I belonged to them. When I nodded, Jax went into a rage, smashing old furniture against the basement walls. “Those scumbags! Treating their own kid like a dog!” Terrified, I knelt on the floor. He looked confused. “What are you doing? Those eggs cost like fifty cents. You don’t need to worship me. It’s weird.” I was confused too. “I’m full. Isn’t it time for the beating?” Jax looked like he wanted to scream. He ground his teeth, ran upstairs, and came back with a rusty ax. I shrank back. My life was always hanging by a thread. Maybe dying was okay. At least I ate eggs. Jax swung the ax high. I closed my eyes, praying it would be quick. Clang! The ax sparked against the chain. Gritting his teeth, he swung again and again until the metal link snapped. I looked up in shock. The man patted my head awkwardly. His eyes held a gentleness I had never seen before. He practically dragged me upstairs. After so long in the dark, the sunlight burned my eyes. 3 Jax fried me another plate of eggs. After I wolfed them down, he looked proud. “If I hadn’t been too broke for culinary school, I’d be a head chef by now.” I nodded furiously. Yes. Chef. I didn’t know what a culinary school was, but agreeing with him felt safe. Jax left again. He came back with scissors, shampoo, and clothes. He dragged me to the yard, drew water from the well, and dumped a bucket of freezing water over me. I shivered violently but didn’t make a sound. My rags disintegrated under his hands. When he saw my body, Jax kicked the bucket over in frustration. “Sh*t. You’re a girl.” I nodded timidly. Jax sighed, took off his jacket, wrapped me in it, and carried me inside. I sat on a chair and watched him boil water on the stove. It was the first hot bath I could remember. Actually, the first bath, period. He scrubbed me with a rough towel, muttering that the pigs in the pen were cleaner than me. When I was clean and dressed in the oversized boy’s clothes he bought, Jax sighed with satisfaction. He hacked at my matted hair with the scissors. He said I looked like a poodle that lost a fight with a lawnmower. Then, he made me work. He said he couldn’t stand the filth. I tried to sweep, but I was so weak I tripped over the broom. He picked me up, set me on a high cabinet, and told me to stay put. Jax dry-heaved while he cleaned. He filled twenty trash bags. He sprayed so much bleach my eyes watered. Finally, he lit a cigarette and collapsed on the couch. He closed his eyes and asked again, “Do you really not know where your parents are?” I shook my head, feeling guilty and ashamed. 4 My parents returned three days later. I heard them screaming at each other from down the block. Jax instantly racked the slide of his pistol. He shoved me into the bedroom and stuffed tissue paper in my ears. He told me he was going to play a game with my parents and that I had to stay quiet. I nodded obediently. For three days, I had food, water, and at night, he let me watch videos on his phone. Even though I didn’t understand the dancing ladies on TikTok, my gray world had color for the first time. He was my god. I trusted him unconditionally. Jax went out and fired a warning shot. I heard my father scream, the sound of a body hitting the floor, and a groan. Jax roared, “Where’s my money? You stole the boss’s product and thought you could hide? You got a death wish?” My mother screamed, her voice shrill and manic. “We smoked it all! It’s gone! Please!” Jax: “Money or product. Now.” The voices dropped. Then, the front door slammed open. I heard a child crying. Loudly. Curious, I cracked the door open. It was a beautiful boy, dressed in expensive clothes. “He’s our golden ticket,” my mother said, tying the boy to a table leg. “His dad owns a mining company. He’s loaded.” Jax looked horrified. He kicked my mother away. “I just want my debt paid! I didn’t sign up for a kidnapping felony!” In the chaos, I saw my father stumble up and smash a chair over the back of Jax’s head. I covered my mouth, too scared to scream a warning. 5 My parents were high. They were erratic. Jax was unconscious, bleeding heavily from his head. I squatted next to him, whispering his name. The rich boy was crying and cursing. “You trash! Junkies! Whores! Do you know who my father is?” My mother slapped him. He screamed louder. I waved at him to shut up. My parents had killed people in this house before. But he wouldn’t stop. Jax groaned and opened his eyes, reaching for his gun. My mother pointed her own pistol at the boy’s head. Jax’s eyes went wide. He lunged. “Crazy b*tch! Don’t drag me to hell with you!” The gun went off. The bullet missed the boy’s head but shattered his thigh. My parents were completely gone, lost in drug-induced psychosis. Jax, bleeding and dizzy, wiped his fingerprints off everything he touched. He grabbed his gun and ran out the door. I sat there, numb. I wanted to cry, but my eyes were dry. But Jax came back. He grabbed my mother’s phone and dialed 911. Disguising his voice, he said, “Drug overdose and kidnapping in progress. Send units.” He grabbed a quilt, wrapped me up, and carried me to the stone bench in the yard. He squatted in front of me. “When the cops come, beg them to take you. Orphanage, foster care, anywhere. Just get out of this house.” He spoke fast, desperate. I nodded mechanically. He rubbed my messy hair, his eyes full of pain. “I hope you have a safe life, kid.” “Promise me. You never saw me. Okay?” He held out his pinky. I hooked it with mine. “Will I see you again?” “Maybe. I don’t know.” Jax pulled his hand away. “Just stay alive.” He ran into the night without looking back. I sat there until the sirens wailed, my feet numb from the cold. The last three days felt like a dream I wasn’t supposed to have.

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I hadn’t paid my half of the household expenses to Pierce Ellington in two weeks, and for the first time, he was the one who called me. “What, no rush to settle up this time?” his voice was sharp with a familiar edge of contempt. “I covered your brother Logan’s medication for the month, so don’t play the martyr. Don’t go crying later that I didn’t help.” The line went dead just as I finished booking a one-way train ticket. Glancing around the house we’d shared for five years, I knew what I could take. It was only the battered, old suitcase my brother Logan Shore had bought me when he sent me off to college. No one—least of all Pierce—knew the true cost of my life here. Every coat, every piece of jewelry, every nice thing I’d worn for five years? They were the leftover branded gifts he’d accumulated while shopping for Blair Kinsley, the great love of his life. Even now, he was meticulously logging every dollar he believed I owed him, while simultaneously buying Blair a new apartment without a second thought. He didn’t know that my brother, unable to secure the final, crucial payment for his medicine, had been forced to take on an exhausting, long-haul trucking run. Two months ago, his truck and his life tumbled into a ravine on a treacherous winter road. I was pushing the suitcase toward the front door when Pierce opened it. “Nothing to say on the phone, and now this sudden drama?” He looked me up and down, a sneer already forming on his face. “Amelia. Are you being overdramatic? The medication was just delayed a few days. Is this really necessary?” I didn’t turn around, focusing instead on checking the contents of my worn wallet for the hundredth time. He strode over, stepping across the threshold, and slammed his hand down on the pull handle of the suitcase. “You’re going to give me endless hell because of that brother of yours—the one you share no blood with?” The venom started to drip from his voice. “He’s an outsider, Amy. And frankly, for some poor kid from the rural mountains to ‘sponsor’ your education… I bet his ‘help’ wasn’t exactly pure.” The crack of my palm against his cheek stole the air. “Keep your voice clean, Pierce!” My whole arm was shaking with rage. “What Logan and I shared was absolutely clean.” He touched his cheek, his eyes instantly darkening, the corner of his mouth twisting into a cynical smirk. “Oh, did I hit a nerve?” he mocked. “I suppose the two of you were peas in a pod… naturally a bond that runs deep.” He leaned in, his voice dropping to a vicious whisper. “But don’t forget, I gave you this life. Every luxury, every comfort you have, was mygenerous offering.” A sharp, needle-like pain pierced my chest. Five years ago, Logan had urged me to pursue my own career, telling me a girl could only build a good life if she stood on her own two feet. But I had thrown myself into Pierce’s shallow affections, desperate to exchange my future for what I thought was stability. I’d looked into Logan’s disappointed eyes and sworn we had love. Now, this life—one where every penny was dissected and accounted for—was, in his mind, a donation. I couldn’t help but laugh, a short, bitter sound. “You’re right. Thank you, Pierce. Thank you for this calculated, utterly barren existence.” His brow furrowed, ready to argue, but I was suddenly tired of listening to him. The whole situation felt pointless. “I know you’ve always wanted Blair. You bought her an apartment, you stocked her closets, and even the freebies you passed on to me, you felt I should be grateful for.” His eyes narrowed slightly, surprised by my directness. I’d ripped off the last shred of our cover. “Since you don’t think I’m good enough for you, and you can’t let her go…” I pulled the suitcase away, my fingers tracing the worn texture of the handle. “I’ll get out of your way. We are done, Pierce. We are even.” I turned, opening the door without hesitation. His furious roar erupted behind me. “Amelia! Try to walk out that door!” I ignored him, walking toward the station, then peeling off into a cheap, mold-scented roadside motel instead. In the dark, a miserable sliver of streetlight leaked through the thin curtain. Logan was right. A life built on your own work is the only one you can truly feel safe in. But this peace came too late, and the cost was too high. The moment my consciousness started to drift, a violent banging jolted me awake. “Open the door! Amelia! I know you’re in there! Get back here!” It was Pierce, his impatience and aggression radiating through the flimsy wood. “Amelia! Come out yourself, or I’ll call someone to kick in this door!” Through the peephole, his face was grim and frightening. “Pierce, we’re done. Please leave.” My words only seemed to fuel his rage. “I decide when we’re done! You think hiding in a dump like this settles anything? Get back home!” Suddenly, Blair’s distinctive ringtone cut through the noise, and the pounding stopped. When he hung up, I heard his receding footsteps, still thick with frustration. “You two stay here and watch her! Don’t let her run off!” I slid down the wall, wrapping my arms around myself. It was absurd. One call, and he would drop everything to rush to another woman. Yet, his wife of five years couldn’t beg him to cover a single wire transfer for life-saving medicine. Sometime later, the footsteps returned. My motel door was kicked inward with a crash. Blair Kinsley, dripping expensive perfume that instantly overpowered the room’s musty scent, stood in the doorway. “Well, well. Look who it is. The little mountain bride he picked up.” She paused, dragging out the words with a condescending giggle. “I heard Pierce only married her to spite his parents. Didn’t expect her to be so… utterly forgettable.” Blair’s words were like tiny pins, pricking a heart already numb from pain. But strangely, I didn’t feel the sting. “Blair, I’m not fighting you.” I gestured to the suitcase. “Just get him to let me leave. From this moment on, you can have whatever you want.” Blair arched an eyebrow but shook her head. “You got the deal of a lifetime marrying him. You took advantage of it for five years. And now you’re playing the high-and-mighty victim? Is this your idea of a power play? Trying to make him chase you?” Her certainty was stunning. I looked down at my faded jeans, a dizzying sense of absurdity rising in my throat. For five years, I had lived off her leftovers and scraps. And she still believed I was a schemer who’d gotten a ‘deal.’ I patted the old suitcase next to me, a painful, self-mocking gesture. “Blair, this battered suitcase contains the sum total of my five years as your man’s wife. What use do I have for a ‘bargain’ like that?” She barely glanced at the luggage, walking toward me. “I don’t care how you spent the last five years, but Pierce’s heart is mine. It was then, it is now, and it will be forever.” After Blair finally disappeared, I grabbed the suitcase and quickly slipped out. But I was immediately caught by Pierce the moment I stepped outside. “What did you say to Blair?” he demanded, his voice thick with accusation. “Nothing.” He snorted, clearly unconvinced. “Amelia, I’m warning you to stay away from her! You two are not in the same league! Stop with your little mind games around her!” In his eyes, my very silence and departure were calculated acts of deception. I felt a familiar stab of pain and countered with a dry sarcasm. “Since you trust Blair so much, why are you asking me?” He choked on the retort, his face twisting in frustration. But he quickly controlled his anger, softening his voice just slightly. “Just go apologize to Blair. If you do that, I’ll forget about tonight. And I’ll cover the rest of your brother’s meds.” He even ground his teeth and reluctantly added, “Those things I said about you and Logan… I know you’re not that person. You’ve been with me for five years. But you were so disrespectful tonight, talking back like that…” Listening to him dismiss his monstrous slanders as mere “words spoken in anger,” a chilling despair washed over me. I looked at the lonely shadow pooling at my feet and pulled the suitcase around him. My rejection shattered his pretense. “Amelia, I gave you an out! Don’t be foolish!” he yelled. “Fine. Whenever you come to your senses, that’s when Logan’s medical care gets covered!” He thought dangling the money would bring me crawling back to the gilded cage. But the memory of Logan’s last laughing phone call—about a “good haul” he’d secured—made my chest seize up. I couldn’t breathe. Once his car screeched away in an angry rush, I sank onto the sidewalk, gasping for air. The tears and hyperventilation left me dizzy, bordering on unconsciousness. I finally calmed down, only to feel a violent, dull impact on the back of my neck. Then, blackness. When I regained consciousness, my hands and feet were tightly bound with rope. Blair, equally bound, saw I was awake and immediately unleashed her fury. “This is your fault, Amelia! You curse! You walking disaster! If I hadn’t come to find you, I wouldn’t be in this mess! Why don’t you just die!” The ringleader, a rough-looking man, kicked her to silence her. “Shut up! One more word and I throw you in the harbor!” She gasped, swallowing her tears and insults, but her eyes, like knives, continued to bore into me. The leader took my phone and found Pierce’s number, handing it to me. “Listen up. Call your man. Tell him to get the money ready. No police. Or else…” He let his cold gaze drift toward the dark water, the threat unspoken. Blair instantly shrieked. “I’ll call him! Let me call him!” The leader scoffed, dialed her number, and put the call on speaker. Pierce answered instantly, his voice frantic. “Blair? Where are you? Why weren’t you answering?” Blair wailed loudly into the phone. “I’ve been kidnapped! Pierce, please! You have to come save me!” Pierce’s breath hitched. “Blair, don’t panic! Tell me exactly where you are! Did they hurt you?” The leader took the phone. “Ellington. You have three hours. Call the cops, and you’ll be collecting what’s left of this woman.” He then took my phone, trying the same tactic. Once. Twice. Unanswered. Blair actually let out a small, spiteful chuckle. “Don’t bother. Pierce won’t answer yours. He never cared about her.” The leader, annoyed, shoved the phone in my face. “What’s the deal, huh? Your man not paying up?” He looked murderous, but I was strangely calm. “We’re separated. He won’t pay a dime for me.” He kept trying, unconvinced, but Pierce still wouldn’t answer. Losing patience, the leader brutally kicked me in the ribs. “Useless! Thought we could score a little extra! What a waste of time!” I muffled a cry, collapsing onto my side. Blair didn’t look scared; instead, a flash of vindictive relief crossed her face. The sea air grew colder; the sky darkened further. During the agonizing wait, Blair’s haughty curses devolved into pitiful weeping. I ignored my fear, scanning the surroundings desperately. “My suitcase. Did you see my suitcase?” It was the last thing Logan had given me. I couldn’t lose it. Blair lashed out. “Amelia, are you crazy or just stupid? We’re about to die, and you’re worried about that piece of junk?” I paid her no mind, forcing my eyes to search every inch of the abandoned dock. Just as despair began to set in, the roar of powerful engines cut through the silence. Blair’s ashen face erupted with hysterical joy. “It’s Pierce! He’s here! He came for me!” Two SUVs screeched to a halt, and Pierce jumped out, running toward us. The leader raised his gun, pointing it squarely at Blair. “Stop right there!” Pierce immediately froze, hands raised. “The money is here! Thirty million, every penny! Let them go!” The leader motioned for a subordinate to check the bags, keeping his gun raised. “We have the cash, Mr. Ellington. But there are two people here.” He shifted his aim between Blair and me. “Thirty million only buys one. Choose.” Pierce finally saw me, his eyes widening in shock and anger. “This is blackmail! I only agreed to pay for one hostage! I had no idea there was a second!” The leader, displeased with his tone, chambered a round. The click echoed on the dock. “Mr. Ellington, don’t blame us. We called you dozens of times, and you never picked up.” He nudged the gun toward the ocean. Blair, terrified, screamed at Pierce to make a decision. But Pierce couldn’t speak, the hesitation stretching out for a lifetime. That brief pause infuriated Blair. “Pierce! What are you waiting for? Were you lying to me? Do you actually love her?” Flustered, Pierce’s face went white. He looked at me, urging me with his eyes. “Amelia, you…” He stammered, searching for the right words. “You let me get Blair out safely, and I swear I’ll come back for you!” A gunshot from the leader, aimed harmlessly at the floorboards, cut him off. “Mr. Ellington, one choice. You take one, and I deal with the other. Immediately.” The color drained from Pierce’s face completely. Blair took advantage of his shock, seizing his sleeve and sobbing hysterically. Watching his tortured, agonizing struggle, I spoke. “Take her, Pierce.” He froze, then his face crumpled in relief and a surge of false gratitude. “Amelia, I’ve failed you. I swear I’ll get the best doctors, the best medicine for your brother! I promise!” Those words—the same ones that had been the economic leash and emotional chokehold of my twisted five-year marriage—now sounded like the most profound, sickening irony. I looked at his anxious, deceitful face and suddenly felt a profound sense of release. “No need,” I said, looking him directly in the eye. “Two months ago, when you bought Blair her apartment and forgot to send the wire, my brother died.” Pierce’s face registered total, absolute incomprehension. “What are you saying…?”

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“Congratulations, Cass. You’ve hit the bottom tier.” Brenda, my manager, slid the annual review form across the conference table, her smile saccharine and slow. I looked down. Composite Score: 50 points. Ranking: Last in Department (8th). Notes: Recommended for reassignment or termination. I glanced back at the sales leaderboard displayed on the wall. My name was at the very top. Revenue: $8.7 Million. I smiled. “Perfectly noted.” Brenda froze. She hadn’t expected the calm, the quiet certainty in my voice. She’d expected tears, or panic, or maybe a desperate, rookie plea. I stood up, folded the assessment neatly, and tucked it into my laptop bag. “I’ll be there for the Executive Review Session, then. On Friday.” 1. Brenda’s expression shifted, a flicker of something sharp in her eyes. “Cassidy, what is that supposed to mean?” I slung my bag over my shoulder, my tone light, almost dismissive. “It means exactly what it says. You’ve ranked me last, so last I am.” “See you at the hearing.” I turned to leave. Behind me, Brenda’s voice pursued me, low and warning. “Cass, don’t think for a minute that strong numbers trump everything. This company assesses comprehensive performance, not just the column totals.” I didn’t look back. “I know.” As I stepped out of the conference room, I heard the hushed, urgent voices inside. “Brenda, do you think she’ll cause a scene?” “A scene? By a junior who’s been here three years? What’s she going to do, upend the whole system?” I let a small, private smile curl the corner of my mouth. Three years. It had been exactly three years. When I started at Sterling & Co., there were eight of us in the department. Brenda was the Director, and she had her two trusted inner-circle lieutenants—Jenna and Dustin. The other five of us were the workhorses. I was the best horse they had. In my first year, I closed $3.8 million in new business. It was the biggest deal the department landed that year. But at the Annual Summit, Brenda stood on the stage and announced— “This deal was a victory for the whole team, the result of a unified effort.” “Jenna was crucial to the initial client follow-up, Dustin handled all the logistical support, and I, of course, orchestrated the overall strategy.” “Cassidy was instrumental in the execution phase. Great job.” The room erupted in applause. Jenna beamed, her eyes sparkling. Dustin gave me a thumbs-up. Only I knew the truth: I’d pitched, negotiated, and closed that deal entirely on my own. Jenna? She barely remembered the client’s name. Dustin? He never once set foot on the client’s campus. But what could I say? I was a rookie, fresh out of college. Who would believe me over the Department Director? That year, Jenna got an $80,000 bonus. Dustin got $60,000. I got $20,000. Brenda patted my shoulder and said, “Cass, you’re young. Your time will come.” I smiled and nodded. “Thank you, Brenda.” In the second year, my revenue hit $5.2 million. Still the top performer. Yet my overall score dropped to fourth place. Brenda cited “issues with professional demeanor.” What issues? She called me “too isolated.” “Cass, look at Jenna and Dustin. See how well they network? You just put your head down and work, all day, every day. You haven’t learned how to be part of the team.” I said, “Brenda, I’m number one in revenue.” She waved a dismissive hand. “Revenue isn’t everything. The company assesses your composite value. Strong performance means you can do the job. It doesn’t mean you’re a fit for this team.” That year, Jenna got a $100,000 bonus. Dustin got $80,000. I got $30,000. I didn’t argue. But from that day on, I started doing one thing religiously. I started recording. Every meeting, every private conversation, every time Brenda stopped by my cubicle for a “coaching session,” my phone was recording. It wasn’t because I wanted to complain. It was because I knew, instinctively, that without evidence, some stories can never be proven. The third year, this year. My revenue is $8.7 million. Not only first in the department, but third in the entire company. And today, Brenda gave me a 50. Bottom tier. Recommended for termination. By the time I left the office building, it was already dark. My phone rang. It was my mother. “Honey, it’s your end-of-year review, right? How did it go?” I stood under a streetlamp, taking a long, cold breath. “It went great, Mom.” “That’s wonderful. Just focus on your work and don’t make trouble for anyone.” “I won’t.” I hung up and stood there for a moment, watching the headlights sweep across the pavement. Three years. I’d endured for three years. It wasn’t weakness. It was patience. I was waiting for the right opportunity. Now, the opportunity was here. Back at my apartment, I logged onto my computer. On the desktop was a folder labeled Operation Record. It contained three years of recordings—87 files in total. It held all my email correspondence, chat logs, and performance reports. I opened a document. The title was: Formal Complaint Regarding Equity and Ethical Standards in the Sales Group Two Performance Review Process. I’d been working on that letter for six months. Dozens of revisions. Every data point was sourced. Every conclusion was backed by evidence. I looked at the date. Friday was the Executive Review Session. At that hearing, every employee ranked in the bottom tier had to stand before the company’s senior leadership and explain why they were “unfit.” If they failed, they were terminated on the spot. Brenda thought I was going to show up and embarrass myself. She was wrong. On Friday, it would be her turn to be embarrassed. I lit a cigarette. Yes, I’d picked up smoking. These three years had taught me so much. Smoking was the least of it. The most important lesson was this: Always secure the evidence. 2. The next morning, I went into work as normal. The atmosphere in the office was immediately off-kilter. Jenna eyed me with a sideways glance. “Well, look who decided to show up, Cass.” I set down my bag. “Why wouldn’t I?” “I heard you were put on the low-performer list. I figured you’d be packing your desk.” I smiled slightly. “The low-performer list isn’t a termination notice. Why would I leave?” Jenna scoffed. “True. But after the hearing on Friday, you won’t have a choice.” I ignored her. I opened my laptop and began sorting through my active client pipeline. At ten, Brenda called me into her office. “Cass, have a seat.” I sat. Brenda’s face was arranged in a placid, concerned expression. “Cass, about yesterday, don’t take it personally.” “I haven’t taken it personally.” “Good.” Brenda picked up her tea mug. “The truth is, I gave you that low score for your own good.” I looked up. “For my good?” “Yes, absolutely.” Brenda sighed, leaning forward. “Look at you. Great numbers, but you’re too blunt. In the corporate world, execution isn’t enough; you have to learn the soft skills.” “I put you in the bottom tier because I want you to understand that sheer ability is insufficient. You need to focus on internal networking, on deference, on aligning with your leadership.” “Do you understand?” I nodded slowly. “I do.” “Good.” Brenda set down her mug. “Then you won’t need to attend the hearing on Friday.” I blinked, feigning surprise. “Why not?” “It’ll just be humiliating for you. Instead, I’ll talk to HR myself and have you quietly reassigned to another department. A fresh start, a clean slate. Wouldn’t that be better?” I stared at her. Her eyes were wide and sincere. If I didn’t know everything I knew, I might actually believe her selfless concern. But I knew. Transfer? What a joke. She was terrified that I would say something at the Executive Review Session. “Brenda, I appreciate the offer.” I stood up. “But I have to attend the review.” Her composure cracked again. “Cass, what is your issue?” “No issue at all. I was ranked in the bottom tier, and I’m required by process to go and explain why. It’s protocol, and I intend to follow it.” “You—” I didn’t wait for her to finish. I turned and walked out. Behind me, I heard the sharp, metallic clang of a mug being dropped onto the desk. Back at my desk, I went back to work. At three, Dustin sidled over. He pulled up a chair and leaned in conspiratorially. “Cass, can we talk strategy?” “About what?” “About your future.” Dustin lowered his voice. “You know Brenda is out to get you, right?” “I’ve noticed.” “So why are you pushing back? Do you have any idea that if she decides to blackball you, you’re done in this company?” I paused my typing. “Dustin, why are you telling me this?” Dustin sighed. “Because I hate to see talent wasted. Cass, your performance is stellar, but you don’t know the rules. Brenda has been here fifteen years. She’s entrenched. You can’t win this fight.” “I’m not trying to fight her.” “Then why are you ignoring her advice? A transfer is a lifeline! A quiet move to a different team is better than this corporate bloodbath.” I looked at Dustin. His eyes held a trace of genuine anxiety, but there was something else, too—a restless, probing curiosity. I realized: He wasn’t here to counsel me. He was here to find out what I knew. Brenda had sent her scout. “Dustin, thank you for your concern,” I said, offering a bland smile. “But I’ll manage my career myself.” His face fell slightly. “Cass, don’t be foolish. I’m trying to help you.” “I know.” “So you’re still going to—” “I thought about it all night,” I cut him off. “I’m going to the Executive Review Session on Friday. I’m going to clearly explain why I was ranked last.” “The outcome after that is up to the company, not me.” Dustin stared at me for a few tense seconds. Then he stood up and gave my shoulder a patronizing pat. “Fine. Just make sure you know what you’re doing.” He left. I continued working. My mind was clear, peaceful. Three years ago, when I first started, I was naive. I thought effort was the only currency. I was wrong. The first time Brenda stole my credit, I thought it was an accident. The second time, I thought I’d failed to communicate properly. The third time, I finally understood. It wasn’t an accident, and it wasn’t a misunderstanding. It was the system. In this department, Brenda was the system. If she said you were worthy, you were. If she said you were a low performer, you were. Revenue? Ability? Irrelevant. The only thing that mattered was compliance. I didn’t want to be compliant. But I wasn’t going to be a martyr, either. So I chose the third path. Patience. Wait until the evidence was ironclad. Wait until the timing was perfect. Wait for the killing blow. That night, back home, I opened the folder again. 87 audio files. 312 email screenshots. Three years of performance reports. And the complaint letter. I printed the letter out. Fifteen pages, stapled cleanly. I signed the last page, then took my phone. I opened the corporate website. Under the “Ethics & Compliance” section, I found the address for the Compliance Department Whistleblower Inbox. I bundled the complaint letter and all the supporting evidence into a single, encrypted file and attached it. Send Successful. I stared at the words on the screen and exhaled slowly. Three years. The wait was over. Brenda, are you ready? 3. Early on Wednesday, the third day, I sensed the shift the moment I walked in. The receptionist’s gaze was strange. The colleagues I passed in the elevator went silent when they saw me. I allowed myself a small smirk. Word travels fast. When I entered the bullpen, Jenna was the first to react. “Cassidy Rhodes, what did you do?!” I set down my bag. “What did I do?” “You—,” Jenna pointed a shaking finger at me, “—you blew the whistle on Brenda?!” The office went dead quiet. All eyes were on me. I sat down and logged into my computer. “Yes.” “Are you insane?!” Jenna shrieked. “Do you have any idea what you’ve just done? You’re committing career suicide!” “I know exactly what I’ve done.” “You—” “Jenna.” I finally looked up. “I didn’t just blow the whistle on Brenda.” Jenna’s face instantly went white. “W-what does that mean?” I just smiled. “You know what it means.” Jenna stood paralyzed. Dustin strode over, his face flushed with panic. “Cass, we need to talk in private!” I didn’t move. “Say what you need to say, Dustin. There’s no need for privacy now.” Dustin’s complexion deepened to a fiery red. “Did you include us in your complaint?” “I filed a complaint regarding inequitable performance evaluations,” I corrected him. “Whether or not you were complicit is for the Compliance Team to determine.” Dustin pointed, his lips trembling. “You—you just wait!” He spun around and stormed off. He was definitely running to Brenda. I continued working. Ten minutes later, Brenda appeared. She stood over my desk, her face a mask of iron-gray fury. “Cassidy Rhodes. My office. Now.” I stood up. I followed her into the small conference room. The moment the door shut, Brenda’s façade completely collapsed. “Cassidy, what is your endgame here?” I looked straight at her. “My endgame is a fair performance review.” “Fair?” Brenda sneered. “You’re a good performer, yes, but do you think strong numbers are the only currency in business?” “The score I gave you was based on a composite evaluation. You have ability, but you have no polish. What’s wrong with that assessment?” I nodded. “Fine. Then let me ask you this—” “That $3.2 million deal I closed last year with The Pinnacle Group—why did the credit end up going to Jenna?” Brenda hesitated. “That was team collaboration—” “Jenna never met the client once. I negotiated the contract, I chased the final payment, I managed the post-sales support. Where was she?” Brenda’s color was draining away. “And another thing.” I kept going. “In April, I spearheaded the Centennial Industries project, worth $1.8 million. You said the scope was too big for me and ‘assigned’ Dustin to ‘assist’ me. The result?” “Dustin never sent a single email or made a single call, yet after the contract was signed, he took a 40% commission split as his ‘assistance fee.’” “Brenda, do you think that’s fair?” Brenda was silent for a few beats. Then she spoke, her voice lower. “Cass, you’re too young. The corporate world isn’t black and white. Jenna and Dustin have been with me for years. Is it wrong for me to look out for them?” “I’m aware of your performance. But you’re too much of a lone wolf, too adversarial. I scored you low because I wanted you to learn to compromise.” “This was for your own good.” I looked at her. “Brenda, do you honestly believe that?” “Then let me tell you my version of ‘good’—” “In three years, I’ve closed $17.7 million in business. My total bonuses add up to less than $100,000. Jenna, who has closed less than $3 million in three years, has banked almost $300,000.” “Is that what you call looking out for me?” Brenda’s face darkened completely. “Cassidy Rhodes, stop being naïve. I saw your little complaint letter. It’s all petty squabbles and minor grievances. Do you really think the corporate office cares about that?”

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After six months of torture at the hands of Julian Thorne, I finally died. I plunged a fruit knife cleanly into my heart. I stopped breathing in less than three minutes. When Julian got the news, he laughed maniacally. “Good! Good riddance!” He ordered my heart to be removed, cremating only the empty shell of my body. He said I didn’t deserve to keep Mia’s heart. But later, he searched the entire country for mediums and priests, begging at altars. “Sarah, I’m begging you. Come back and see me, even if it’s just in my dreams…” Julian wept like a desperate child before the silk tree he had chopped down with his own hands. But my body was incomplete, my ashes scattered, my soul unable to return. Even though I was right there, he couldn’t see a thing. Chapter 1 When Julian heard I had stabbed myself in the heart and died, he froze for a few seconds, then burst into wild laughter. “Good! She’s finally dead! Saves me the trouble of doing it myself!” He laughed until tears streamed down his face. I knew he was crying tears of joy. After all, in the six months since we got married, he had used every method possible to torment me, both openly and secretly. Wasn’t his goal to “dispose” of me without crossing the legal line? Like when he gave me a kitten, only for me to find its dried corpse hanging from the window the next day. Like celebrating my birthday with me, then splashing photos of him making out with another woman across the tabloids the very next morning. He wouldn’t poison me directly, but he made sure the cook prepared meals with conflicting ingredients that slowly weakened my body. He moved me to an isolated villa in the hills to avoid prying neighbors, then blasted eerie noises at night until I nearly lost my mind. He destroyed the company my father left behind, forced my brother from wealth into debt, and even framed him to send him to prison. In Julian’s eyes, I deserved all of this. Because my family had “schemed” to kill his beloved sister and stolen her living heart. Chapter 2 When I died, only Lena was home. She was a deaf-mute woman Julian hired specifically to “care” for me. Her only job was to mechanically follow Julian’s nutritional plan and make sure I ate everything. Watermelon and lamb to hurt my kidneys, honey and brown rice to cause tinnitus, shrimp and oranges to create toxins. If I refused to eat, she would kneel before me and slap her own face frantically. I knew Julian was watching everything through the surveillance cameras. Whether he was eating, in a meeting, working, or socializing, he would watch and smile with satisfaction. This wasn’t my first suicide attempt. Trapped in this godforsaken place, with my body reaching its limit, I wanted a release. If I died, everyone would be free. I had slit my wrists, turning the bathwater red. But the plug mysteriously failed, the water drained, and the wound clotted. I swallowed a bottle of sleeping pills, only to find they were expired and useless. In despair, I jumped from the third floor, but a tree broke my fall, and I only shattered my shoulder blade. Julian smiled cruelly. “Sarah, stop acting. Someone like you wouldn’t give up your life so easily.” He said if I truly had a conscience, I wouldn’t have schemed to kill Mia and lived on for so many years. I explained countless times that Mia’s death was an accident. But he didn’t believe me. How could there be such a coincidence? Why did a million dollars appear in her account right before her car accident? Why did she sign an organ donation agreement on her deathbed with no family present? He was convinced my wealthy family had “bought” Mia’s life. So, he planned his revenge, starting from the day he knelt before me, pressing his cheek against my heart and weeping. He didn’t know that the heart was Mia’s willing gift to me, along with her deepest love for him. “Sarah, after I’m gone, please love Julian for me… he’s so lonely.” So, the person who willingly walked into this trap wasn’t just him. It was me too. Chapter 3 For the final attempt, I chose the cleanest, most efficient way. When the knife pierced my heart, I couldn’t even speak. In less than three minutes, the blood was gone, and so was I. Julian was taken in for questioning. The police suspected foul play because the wound didn’t look like a typical suicide. Suicides usually have hesitation marks—the body’s instinctive reaction to pain. I didn’t have any. Just one clean thrust into the heart. “Maybe she was just that determined to die?” Julian laughed coldly. Yes. Someone who really wants to die will grit their teeth and push the knife in, no matter the pain. … Julian had an alibi, and Lena had no motive. My pocket contained a handwritten suicide note, though most of it was soaked in blood, leaving only the words “Suicide Note” legible. Julian was released. But before he left, he demanded an autopsy. My heart and I were separated. He said I didn’t deserve to leave with Mia’s heart. At the funeral home, when my brother saw my chest cut open, he broke down. “Julian, you animal!” Handcuffed and guarded by police, he rushed at Julian and punched him in the face. “Give my sister’s heart back! She can’t leave like this…” My brother had aged overnight in detention, facing multiple charges after his bankruptcy. The police had granted him a brief visit for the funeral. “That never belonged to her,” Julian said coldly, staring at my body lying in the flowers. I was surrounded by blooms, filling the empty cavity in my chest. At my brother’s insistence, a mortician had made me look presentable for my departure. I saw Julian walk up to me, looking down at my cold face. He stuffed something into my clothes—a yellow paper charm. Julian didn’t believe in God or ghosts. But to suppress me, he chose to believe. “I want to make sure she never reincarnates. I won’t let her disturb Mia.” My brother lunged at him. “Julian, you’re evil! Sarah suffered enough—” “She deserved it.” Julian crushed a rose in his hand, the thorns piercing his skin. Blood dripped onto my pale lips. He used to love the taste of those lips. In that moment, I wondered if I had ever truly been loved. The police dragged my brother away. He screamed, “Julian, you’ll regret this! You’ll regret what you did to Sarah!” Regret? Standing in the empty hall, Julian stared at my smiling portrait. How could he regret it? From the moment he approached me with gentle lies, he had been planning this day. If he regretted anything, it was probably that he didn’t kill me himself. … Julian took Mia’s heart and incinerated it separately, burying the ashes in front of her grave, returning her body to wholeness. As for my ashes, he didn’t want them. He told the staff to throw them away. But laws prevented such disposal, so the staff stored me in a cheap urn. Since my brother was in custody, no one claimed me. That afternoon, a worker accidentally knocked over a shelf in the storage room. A gust of wind scattered me into the sky… Julian returned to the empty villa as darkness fell. Lena had prepared dinner, but he didn’t touch a bite. Finally, Julian spoke. “Lena, I’m moving out in a few days. This house is yours for retirement.” Chapter 4 Lena was deaf-mute, but she could hear with hearing aids. She signed something in response. I didn’t understand sign language, but her expression seemed to say, “I don’t need it.” “This is the last thing I can do for Mia.” Julian pushed the deed toward Lena. “I… really wish I could call you Mom with Mia one more time.” The food went cold. Julian looked up, staring in the direction of my soul. I knew he couldn’t see or feel me. If souls could communicate, why didn’t Mia ever come to him? Mia, I’m sorry. This is as far as I can go. I tried my best… Then, I saw Julian stand up. He pushed aside Lena’s food and opened the freezer. He took out a box of frozen dumplings. I had made them two months ago. Before he showed his true colors, we had moments of warmth. I was a good cook. My heart condition kept me from school and play, so cooking became my hobby. When we were together, Julian often missed meals due to work. I would bring food to his office and sit quietly by his side. He loved my dumplings, so I filled the freezer for him. Even if he hadn’t driven me to suicide, my heart wouldn’t have lasted much longer. Mia once said Julian suffered a lot as a child and often went hungry. Even now, wealthy and powerful, he ate without elegance. The water boiled. The dumplings floated, bobbing like my turbulent life. He devoured them, stuffing himself until he vomited. As he retched, he clawed at the floor and wailed. “You’re finally dead! You’re finally dead, Sarah!” I watched as he rolled onto the floor, covering his eyes with an arm, sobbing until the veins in his neck bulged. The next second, he scrambled up and ran into the yard. He grabbed a shovel and hacked down the silk tree.

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I spent two years in a relationship with a guy younger than me. He was handsome, full of energy, and charming. Just when I was thinking about taking the next step, we had a fight. In a fit of rage, the man who used to sweetly call me “Babe” let his mask slip. “Old hag.” Later, at his loud, crowded birthday party, I happened to be dining at a nearby table with a new man. He saw me and rushed over like a lunatic. “Babe, let’s stop this cold war, okay?” I smiled at him calmly. “Sorry, we’re already broken up.” “Oh, by the way, don’t call me Babe anymore. You should probably call me… sister-in-law.” 1 The moment the words left his mouth, we both froze. “Old hag.” I never thought I’d hear those words come from Liam’s mouth. “I… I didn’t mean that.” Liam’s face softened a bit, but his words remained stubborn. “Annie, I’m barely twenty-two. Do you really expect me to be as dead inside as you are?” I suddenly felt exhausted. Liam was young. Vibrant. He was still in grad school. After we moved in together, he went out drinking every two or three days, often stumbling home at 2 or 3 AM. I didn’t have his energy. Between the pressure at work and his late nights, I was barely sleeping. Every time the door creaked open, every drunken stumble in the hallway, ruined my entire night. For months, my nerves had been frayed, fatigue eating away at me. I tried to talk to him, to ask him to cut back on the pointless partying. But in his anger, the truth slipped out. “No wonder the guys call you an old hag. You’re just a buzzkill who won’t let anyone have fun.” In that instant, I was stunned. It was like I was looking at a stranger. The silence stretched for minutes. Liam’s phone buzzed. A male voice on the other end urged him on: “Liam, bro, where are you? Did Annie lock you in?” “No way, Liam! Is the old hag actually grounding you?” That second voice belonged to a girl. I knew her. She was the “princess” of Liam’s friend group. Cute face, disgusting personality. “Shut up,” Liam snapped, frowning as he hung up. He looked at me, his tone slightly softer. “I won’t come back tonight. I won’t disturb your sleep.” Slam. The door closed. I stared at the door for a long time before looking down. It was only a four-year age gap. When things were good, I was his sweet “Babe.” When he was angry, the truth came out. To him, I was just an old hag who was four years his senior. 2 Liam didn’t come home that night. I took half a sleeping pill and actually got some rest. My biological clock woke me up at six. I heard the front door open. I washed up and walked out to find Liam just returning. He was holding bags of my favorite breakfast from the bakery down the street. Seeing me awake, he pulled a small velvet box from his pocket like he was presenting a treasure. Inside was a necklace I had left in my online cart for months, too hesitant to buy. “About last night… I said something stupid. Don’t hold it against me, okay?” That was Liam. Dating a younger guy wasn’t easy. We fought a lot over the last two years. He was generous with gifts—flowers, luxury items I wanted but wouldn’t buy for myself. Usually, a little coaxing and a gift would smooth things over. But this time, I knew. I couldn’t let it go. “Old hag.” Those two words had torn through the illusion of our love. It was repulsive. Liam thought this was just another small spat. He thought his usual tricks would work. But I just felt tired. “I’m not mad anymore,” I said flatly. “Go get some sleep.” Liam let out a sigh of relief. After he went into the bedroom, I left the necklace on the entryway table. This sweet date couldn’t fix the slap in the face he gave me last night. 3 For the next few days, Liam focused on his studies. His schedule became almost normal. Until the weekend. He tested the waters. “It’s Sarah’s birthday. We’re going to Karaoke tonight. Won’t be late.” Sarah. The girl who called me an old hag on the phone. I knew exactly what she was about. “I haven’t been to Karaoke in a while,” I said, looking at him. Liam froze. “You… want to go?” “Can’t I?” I rarely joined his social events. In the first six months, the “honeymoon phase,” he dragged me along. But I realized quickly that those loud, chaotic environments weren’t for me. Eventually, our social lives separated completely. The last time I saw his friends was months ago, at Liam’s birthday. “It’s going to be loud. I’m afraid you won’t like it,” Liam mumbled, trying to find an excuse. I shook my head calmly. “It’s fine. I’m off tomorrow. I want to relax too.” Liam looked uncomfortable, but he agreed. Before we left, he picked out a trendy, oversized hoodie for me. “See? Now you look a few years younger.” I smiled faintly but didn’t speak. His friends often made fun of my age behind my back. “Robbing the cradle,” they’d say. Or they’d joke that Liam was smart for snagging a “sugar mommy” early. In the beginning, Liam would drink them under the table for those comments. “Say one more word about my girl and I’ll end you,” he’d slur. Back then, he really didn’t care about the four years. But now? It had become his biggest insecurity. 4 We got to the Karaoke bar around eight. Liam immediately melted into the crowd of his friends. They greeted me politely, but their eyes were cold. Sarah, the birthday girl, saw me and made a dramatic face. “Annie! Who bought you that hoodie? You’re, like, twenty-eight. Trying a bit hard, aren’t we?” “Sarah.” Liam’s voice carried a warning. “Annie looks great. Don’t be rude.” Sarah huffed, then shoved the guy next to Liam out of the way and clung to Liam’s arm. “Come on, Liam! It’s my birthday! Don’t just sit with Annie. Come play dice with me!” Liam didn’t pull away. He glanced at me, his expression relaxed and handsome. “Babe, I’ll be right back.” “Okay.” The room got loud fast. These kids, with no real jobs or stress, drank and screamed over the music. I sat silently with a drink, watching Liam’s voice get louder. When he won a game, he high-fived Sarah, their bodies pressing together naturally. Noise. Chaos. Everything I hated. After the honeymoon phase, I had calmed down. I realized our differences weren’t “complementary”—they were cracks in the foundation. Different schedules. Different hobbies. I wanted to rest on weekends; he wanted to party. I tried to keep up, but it just left me exhausted. I had thought about breaking up before. But I naively believed that love conquers all. “Liam! Why did you push me?” Sarah’s whiny voice cut through the noise. Liam was drunk now. Sarah was clinging to him like ivy. But when her arm brushed his, Liam pushed her away. His rejection was loud and clear. “Get off. You’re not Annie. My Annie isn’t this… young.” 5 Sarah pouted, pretending to be mad. “What? Are you saying Annie is old?” Liam mumbled something I couldn’t catch, except for one sentence. “She’s twenty-eight.” Sarah beamed. She glanced at me, her eyes full of triumph. She was a sophomore. Eight years younger than me. She was definitely “tender” compared to me. Our fights lately always circled back to sleep schedules and age. He’d started tagging me in TikToks of younger, “hotter” girls. When I got upset, he’d say, “They’re young and pretty. What’s wrong with looking?” Yeah. Everyone was young and pretty. Except me. I was old and dead inside. I quietly gathered my things. As I walked out, a few people noticed. “Annie, you heading out? Don’t worry, we’ll take care of Liam,” a guy by the door said. I nodded perfunctorily. Nobody wanted me there. Including Liam. Just like I didn’t fit in this room, I didn’t fit in his life. Age, personality… we were just wrong. Two years of trial and error, and the result was failure. I called an Uber. The night wind hit my face, making my eyes water. The driver, a woman in her thirties, saw me in the rearview mirror. “Rough night, honey? If he’s not the one, dump him. You’re too young to waste your time being sad.” I wiped my eyes. She was right. Why suffer? Better to cut it off. I opened Liam’s chat. I didn’t hesitate. “Liam, let’s break up. Let’s end this on good terms.” 6 The next morning, I took all my saved vacation time and booked a trip. I had just finished a huge project, and my boss gave me a $2,000 bonus. Fifteen hours later, I landed in a foreign country. My phone buzzed. It was Liam. “Annie, what is wrong with you? Breaking up out of nowhere? Do you know all my friends saw that text?” Seeing the new scenery, my mood lifted. My voice was calm. “If you’re embarrassed, you can tell them you dumped me.” I didn’t care about my reputation. When I started dating a guy four years younger, people talked. A little more gossip wouldn’t hurt. “Annie, that’s not the point. Why are we breaking up?” Liam was suppressing his anger. Why? There were too many reasons. I was too lazy to list them. “Liam, I don’t want to date a younger guy anymore.” I didn’t want to be called an “old hag” behind my back by the boy I loved. It hurt too much. “You pursued me, remember? Were you just playing with me?” Liam gritted his teeth. Right. I chased him. We were at the same university. Before I graduated with my Master’s, I had a brief campus romance. Liam was hot, rich, and a gentleman. I thought I had won the lottery. But nobody is perfect. I enjoyed his youth, so I had to pay the price: his immaturity, his lifestyle, and the endless stream of girls hovering around him. I had paid enough. “Yeah, my bad. Liam, I apologize. But we’re done.” My calmness must have infuriated him. “Fine! Break up then! Annie, don’t you dare regret this!” I thought about it. I wouldn’t.

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On our wedding night, Weston Raymond suddenly confessed to his infidelity and presented me with two choices. Either I could look the other way for the duration of the marriage, and he would compensate me handsomely, or we could divorce immediately. After seven years together, I assumed he was joking. It wasn’t a joke. Post-nuptials, he quickly established what I came to call a “transactional marriage.” When the betrayals mounted, he used money to buy out my hysterics, my furious screams, my collapse. When I was grieving a miscarriage, he used money to buy out the life of the child we lost. Even when my mother was hospitalized with a serious illness—and his latest mistress, Kira, texted her intimate photos of them in bed, triggering a heart attack that rushed her into surgery—he maintained a chilling indifference. “Ten million dollars,” he said, his voice flat. “To buy out your mother’s broken heart.” “If that’s not enough, I’ll raise the price.” I didn’t answer. I stood guard outside the operating room for a day and a night. The moment the doctor announced my mother’s death, I dialed Weston’s number. “I want a billion dollars.” This time, what he was buying out was no longer something trivial. It was the last ember of love I had for him. 1 The phone line went silent for a moment, then I heard a faint, unmistakable sound of a woman’s breathlessness in the background. A moment later, Weston’s footsteps moved to a quieter place. His voice, when it came, was a razor-sharp sneer. “A hundred million? Talia Quinn, have I been too generous these past three years? Did that make you think you had the leverage for an absurd demand?” “Your mother just got a little rattled by a photo. Even if she were actually dead, she wouldn’t be worth a dime more than ten million, do you understand?” Was she not worth it? I thought even ten billion couldn’t buy back my mother’s life. And now, she really was gone. Weston didn’t give me a chance to speak, hanging up the phone with a decisive click. The screeching static pierced my eardrum and lodged itself in my heart. I turned and walked into the morgue, looking at the stillness beneath the white sheet covering my mother. A wave of bone-deep cold washed over me. I bent down and hugged her icy body. Instead of my mother’s gentle, fragmented words of concern, all I could hear was the doctor’s regretful sigh. “If not for the massive shock that led to the sudden heart failure, the patient would have been ready for surgery soon. Her recovery looked promising.” “It’s a great pity. It was just so sudden…” Sudden, indeed. Just three days ago, I was nestled in my mother’s arms, crying and promising her that as soon as she was discharged, I would divorce Weston and cut him out of my life for good. I never imagined that death would arrive faster than fRaymondom. When my mother was rushed to the operating room, Weston had shielded Kira behind him. “Kira didn’t do it on purpose. Your mother’s health was already failing; she couldn’t handle the shock.” “Talia Quinn, you’re just making a scene for money, aren’t you?” “Ten million dollars. Is that enough, or not?” The ruthless sound of his voice hammered in my skull, tearing my heart into two ragged pieces. I trembled, clutching my mother’s cold corpse, and the tears I had suppressed for so long finally broke, one after another, splashing onto her closed eyelids, forming a shallow pool of pure despair. “Mom… I was wrong… please wake up…” “I don’t love Weston anymore… I’ll divorce him… We’ll go home, just us, we’ll go home…” When the sobs finally turned to dry retching, I knelt on the floor, convulsing in pain. Fearing I would collapse completely, a nurse gave me a sedative. When I woke up, my heart felt like ash. I picked up my phone and called Weston again. He answered immediately, his voice heavy with the certainty of victory. “Figured out the right price, have you?” “Yes,” I said softly. “Ten million dollars.” Ten million. It was enough to buy out the heart that had pulsed for Weston for the last decade. It was enough. 2 Having received the answer he wanted, Weston was satisfied. His voice lifted with a self-congratulatory cadence. “That’s my girl. That’s the sort of class and composure a Raymond wife should have.” “As long as you keep being this compliant, I’ll make sure to come home on time every day.” The Weston of eighteen would have been mortified to hear those words. He was the boy who chased the school bus on his bike, begging me to be his. He was the man who knelt on the sidewalk, offering me a ring bought with his first startup funds, asking me to marry him. At eighteen, he’d pedaled me around the entire lake, shouting his promises into the wind. “I, Weston Raymond, swear by everything, I will love Talia Quinn for the rest of my life.” The night wind must have been too harsh, scattering those earnest, youthful vows. Now, only the wreckage remained. I wouldn’t fight him anymore. I didn’t want him anymore. After the cremation, I held my mother’s ashes, letting a final, single tear fall. “Mom, we’re going home, and we’re never looking back.” Back at the house, I carried the urn upstairs to pack my things. Kira slinked out of the master suite, wearing my silk nightgown, leaning suggestively against the doorframe. In the past, I would have exploded. Now, my mother was dead, and so was my heart. There was only numbness and silence left. Seeing my lack of reaction, Kira intentionally pulled down the neckline, revealing a constellation of aggressive hickeys on her throat, trying to provoke me. “Wes said this marital bed was custom-ordered, and when I mentioned it last night, he actually let me try it out.” “It’s very comfortable, so big and soft.” It was true, Weston had customized it. But ever since he confessed his infidelity on our wedding night, and I stubbornly decided to fight him, that bed had been home only to hysterical screams and endless tears. My face remained expressionless. I spoke with a deathly chill. “Get out.” Kira’s smug expression froze, then she recovered, letting out a dismissive scoff. “I don’t know what you have to be so proud of. Wes obviously doesn’t love you. You cling to him and refuse to divorce; you’re an embarrassment to women everywhere!” “If I were you, I’d just jump off a bridge and die. At least you’d leave a little impression on Wes’s heart.” She paused, the smirk turning cruel. “And your mom? A daughter so self-pitying and pathetic—she deserved to be six feet under.” My head snapped up, a flash of red-hot fury replacing the numbness in my eyes. “Say that again.” Kira snorted. “I said it! Your mom deserved to die—” Before she could finish, I slapped her across the face. My palm was shaking, burning. Kira grabbed her cheek, registered the pain, and then lunged, wrenching my hair and slamming my head against the wall with a sickening thud. The world spun violently. I clung to the urn, refusing to let go. Seeing this, Kira realized what I was protecting and began frantically trying to wrest the box from my grasp, her nails digging into my arm. Just then, Weston emerged from the bathroom, frowning. He yanked Kira and me apart. Kira immediately shed her aggression, pointing at the slap mark on her face and dissolving into theatrical tears. “Wes, she hit me! And she tried to smash that ugly box over my head!” Weston’s face hardened, ignoring the bloodied scratches Kira’s nails had left on my face and neck. “Talia Quinn, apologize.” I gasped in pain, forcing the tears back into the corners of my eyes. “Over my dead body.” Weston suddenly raised his hand, aiming for my face. I lifted my chin, daring him to strike. He didn’t hit me. Instead, his hand shot past my face, snatching the urn from my arms with brutal force. He raised his arm high and hurled the vessel to the floor. I lunged to catch it, but I was too slow. CRASH! The deafening sound of shattering ceramic. My heart burst open in my chest. 3 I crawled on my hands and knees toward the fragments of the urn, my hands shaking uncontrollably. My mother’s last words echoed in my mind. “Tal, please divorce Wes. All I want is for you to be happy…” What exactly had three years of desperate refusal bought me? Only another thousand daggers of pain. My eyes were bloodshot, but I couldn’t produce another tear. I could only futilely pick up the broken pieces, trying to put back what couldn’t be mended. The next second, Weston lifted his foot and ground it down, crushing my mother’s remains. I went insane, pounding his shin with my fists. “Get out! Get out!” “Everyone, get out!” Weston didn’t budge. He looked down at me and sneered. “It’s just a miserable, cursed container. Why are you having such a meltdown over it?” “Look at you, Talia. You look like a lunatic.” Kira wrapped her arm around his, whining affectionately. “Wes, she hit me pretty hard. Just a broken box seems too easy on her, doesn’t it?” Weston chuckled, indulgently. “What do you want to do?” “Give her ten slaps back, to make it even.” Weston smiled, then his tone turned ice-cold, the words striking my ears like pellets of hail. “Did you hear that, Talia? Kira wants satisfaction.” I looked up sharply, glaring at him through my red-rimmed eyes. He paused, then curled his lip. “What’s with the drama? You haven’t cried like this in ages. All this fuss over a broken container?” It was only then that I realized my face was slick with tears. The man squatted down, brushing a tear away from my cheek. His action was gentle, but his tone was purely arrogant. “Name your price. Buy out the box.” I started to laugh—a dry, horrible sound. Buyout. It was always a buyout! In Weston’s eyes, everything I possessed—my feelings, my loyalty, my memories—could be bought and sold. Four years ago, on our wedding night, I couldn’t accept his terms. I screamed and raged. Weston ignored my breakdown, called another woman, and left me alone in the custom bed. Before midnight, photos of them blanketed the web. I, his wife, became the city’s laughingstock. I sat there until dawn, clutching the images. When he called, his voice was just as dismissive as it was now. “Can we discuss the terms now?” “Talia Quinn, I’ll give you the status, the name, and the money. You’re just being gRaymondy if you also expect my exclusive loyalty.” I couldn’t comprehend how he could promise me everything, only to turn around and label me the gRaymondy one. I refused to let go, dragging him through the wreckage. Every time I was hurt, he bought out my pain with money. This time, let him pay to buy out the entire relationship. I looked at Weston and repeated the number. “A billion dollars.” The word left my mouth, and Weston burst into laughter. “Talia Quinn, have you lost your mind? Is this junk so valuable? Does it contain, what, a human life?” I gripped the shards of the urn in my palm, the irony choking me. Kira giggled sweetly. “So sorry, Miss Quinn, but Wes can’t give you that billion.” “He just bought me ten diamonds from South Africa for my birthday crown, and they were a hundred million each. Exactly one billion, actually.” The last vestige of reason I held on to snapped. The ceramic shards dug into my palm, drawing blood. I shot up, lunging to stab Kira in the face. I was a second too slow. Weston quickly shielded her, shoving me hard. I stumbled back, crashing into the stair railing, and a gush of warm blood immediately streamed down my forehead. Weston didn’t even glance at me. He was too busy frantically checking Kira to see if she was hurt. Kira huddled in his arms, cautiously cradling her abdomen. “Wes, my stomach hurts. The baby isn’t hurt, is it?” I looked up, stunned, staring at Kira’s small bump. She immediately panicked. “Wes, what do we do? She knows about the baby! She looks terrifying. She wouldn’t hurt the baby, would she?” Weston turned back to me, his eyes filled with fierce wariness. “Talia Quinn, one last chance. Name a price.” A thousand poisonous, hooked vines attacked me from all sides, piercing my heart. In that moment, whether it was a billion or ten million. I didn’t want the money anymore. I just wanted to vanish from Weston Raymond’s world forever. 4 My silence only confirmed Kira’s fears for Weston. He was convinced I would hurt her child. His voice was glacial. “Talia Quinn, I’ll give you three days. Give me a satisfactory answer.” “Don’t forget, your mother is still in the hospital.” But wasn’t my mother’s urn currently being ground under his foot? I started to weep with silent laughter, watching him carefully gather Kira into his arms and carry her away. The massive, empty house was left to me alone. Ignoring the blood dripping from my forehead, I knelt on the floor, using a bottle to collect the remnants of my mother’s ashes. My vision was clouded with despair. After retrieving my ID and bank cards, I took off the princess-cut diamond engagement ring I had worn for five years. As I set it down, I could faintly hear Weston’s proposal promise. “Tal, give me a chance to protect you for the rest of my life, okay?” It turned out “the rest of my life” was fleetingly short. As the night deepened, I took only a small bag and walked out the door. Two security guards appeared instantly, forced me into a black car, and drove me to a private, isolated facility. I fought and screamed, but the guard’s voice was devoid of emotion. “Mr. Raymond said he’s giving you three days.” “If you haven’t softened by then, you’ll stay here for good.” The door slammed shut. CRASH! I hammered the door until my knuckles bled and my voice was raw, but the guard never opened it. I was locked in that mental health facility for three days and three nights, which felt like three centuries. The only people I saw were the staff. Whenever I neared hysteria, they would hold me down and forcefully inject me with sedatives. When they left, the silence was absolute, broken only by the rambling wails of a patient in the next room, chipping away at my last defenses. I felt myself truly slipping into madness. I began to hallucinate. I saw my mother, looking at me with a heart-wrenching pity. “Tal, how did you let yourself become like this?” I also saw the young Weston. He stood by my bedside, gently stroking my hair. “Tal, when you’re better, I’ll take you to see the biggest hydrangea fields.” On the fourth morning, the drug’s effects began to fade. I opened my eyes groggily to a bouquet of hydrangeas. For a moment, I thought the eighteen-year-old Weston had come to rescue me. Then I saw the man by the bed, his expression cold and hard. “Have you made your decision?” I slowly sat up, my face numb. “Yes. I have.” Weston nodded, satisfied. “How much will it cost for you to accept the child?” “Don’t worry, even after the baby is born, I’ll still come home on schedule. Nothing will change…” “One dollar.” I calmly interrupted his rambling. Weston froze, disbelief etched on his face. Then, displeasure. “Talia Quinn, are you playing games? You would never ask for a single dollar.” “I want one dollar.” I held out my hand, my voice firm. “Give me one dollar, and you can have children with anyone you want. I won’t interfere again.” Weston ground his teeth, seemingly infuriated but also amused by my audacity. He pulled a hundred-dollar bill from his wallet and flung it at my face. “Fine! Fine, you win!” “You better stick to your word!” With that, he kicked a chair aside, signaled for the guards outside to leave, and turned away. I retrieved my bag and confirmed its contents. Then, I strode out of the facility. The moment I stepped past the iron gate, I threw the hundred-dollar bill high into the sky and never looked back. Weston’s assistant told him I had left the facility, and his first assumption was that I had gone home. However, when he arrived at the house, I wasn’t there to greet him, nor was his favorite dinner on the table. A sudden dread seized him. He called his assistant. “Didn’t you say Talia was released? Why isn’t she here?” “Mr. Raymond, I didn’t say Mrs. Raymond went home.” “Then where could she be? Her mother is still in the hospital…” Before he could finish, the assistant’s voice came back, laced with shock. “Mr. Raymond, the truth is, Mrs. Raymond’s mother passed away four days ago. Resuscitation failed. Didn’t you know?”

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