Category: English

The moment my best friend swooped in and bought the foreclosed property I’d been eyeing, right under my nose at the real estate office, I knew for certain: she was back, too. In my last life, my best friend, Tiffany, and I both had a little bit of savings. She threw all of hers into the stock market. I decided to buy a place to live. My funds were limited, so I settled on a house with a dark past—a place where a murder had occurred. It was cheap. But inside, hidden in the space above the ceiling, I found a safe. It was filled with ten million in cash and over a dozen gold bars. Meanwhile, Tiffany’s money got trapped in a market downturn. She lost everything and ended up deep in debt. Watching me move into a mansion, drive luxury cars, and spend money like it was water, she snapped. She lured me onto the highway and watched as a speeding truck mowed me down. After I died, my soul lingered. I watched as she and my boyfriend, Kyle, lied to the police, telling them I’d been drinking, that I’d ignored traffic rules and stumbled into the road. A tragic suicide. When I opened my eyes again, I was back. Back on the day I was supposed to buy the murder house. 1 “I’ll take this one!” Tiffany’s voice detonated next to my ear. I stood frozen, staring at the scene unfolding before me. The real estate agent shot me an apologetic look before turning to Tiffany. “I’m sorry, miss, but this lady was looking at it first.” “So what? She hasn’t paid. I’m paying now. That makes it mine.” The look of absolute certainty on her face told me everything I needed to know. She had been reborn, too. “Jessica,” she said, her tone suddenly wheedling, a hint of probing in her eyes. “I really want this house. Why don’t you look at some of the others? There are plenty like it in this development.” She was testing me, trying to see if the Jessica from the last life was looking back at her. I snapped out of my daze and frowned, playing my part. “Alright, fine. If you like it that much, it’s yours. I’ll see what else is available.” A wave of relief washed over Tiffany’s face. She turned back to the agent, ready to seal the deal. “Miss Hayes,” the agent said, a note of caution in his voice, “I must remind you, a homicide took place in this house. That’s why the price is so low. Are you sure you want to buy it?” “Positive. They caught the killer, so what’s there to be afraid of? Besides, it’s not like I’m going to be living there…” She cut herself off, but it was too late. I smiled. I knew exactly what she meant. In my past life, I’d been tired of renting. With a small nest egg, I’d decided to put down roots. But my options were slim. The agent finally showed me the murder house. A couple had lived there; a domestic dispute ended with the husband killing the wife. He was serving a life sentence now, and the house, tainted by the crime, was a hard sell. I’d bought it without a second thought. After all, what ghost is scarier than the ghost of being broke? But then I found the fortune, just as Tiffany’s life hit rock bottom. This time, she was determined to steal the fate that was meant for me. She shot me a mocking smile. “You should just put your money in stocks. You might get lucky, and then you could afford a real mansion.” I pretended not to understand her dig. “But this place has a mortgage of several thousand a month. Are you sure you can handle that? You don’t have much saved up. It might be a struggle. If you need help, I could always lend you some.” Tiffany only had enough for the down payment. My words, combined with the vision of the treasure she was about to claim, pushed her over the edge. “Who says I can’t?” she snapped. “I’m paying in full. All cash. Don’t even think about competing with me. This is mine!” The agent, stunned by her fanaticism but delighted by the prospect of a cash sale, immediately forgot I existed and turned all his attention to her. “Excellent, Miss Hayes! How will you be paying?” Having made her boast, she couldn’t back down now. She pulled out a card. “I’ll put down a deposit now, and I’ll have the rest for you in three days. That should be fine, right?” The agent took the card, beaming. “Of course! No problem at all. Let’s go sign the contracts.” My work here was done. I turned and walked out, heading back to my rented apartment. 2 That night, just as I was getting into bed, my boyfriend, Kyle, called. His voice was cold, devoid of any emotion. “Let’s break up, Jessica. I’m sick of you. Don’t bother me again.” I listened, my face a blank mask. As his words faded, I heard the faint, triumphant giggle of a woman in the background. I knew exactly who it was, but I feigned shock. “Are you cheating on me? Who are you with right now? Kyle, you can’t do this to me!” The more furious I sounded, the more pleased they became. “Honestly? I was only with you so you’d get me a job at your company,” he sneered. “Now that I’m in, I don’t have to pretend to be into you anymore. It was making me sick.” So that was it. My resume was strong, and I’d landed a position at a top corporation right out of college. Once I was established, I’d gotten both Kyle and Tiffany internal referrals. “Just let it go, Jessica,” Tiffany’s voice purred as she took the phone. “We’re going to be rich now. We’re not in the same league anymore. Don’t try to force your way into a world where you don’t belong. This is goodbye.” “The two of you?” I gasped, playing the part of the betrayed lover to perfection. “You stabbed me in the back!” They both erupted in cruel laughter. I seized the opportunity. “Hmph. Let’s see how well you do without me. So you bought some crappy old house? What’s so great about that?” “Oh, you’ll see,” Tiffany sang. “You’re just a pathetic little wage slave. How could you ever compare to me?” After they hung up, I let out a cold laugh. Utterly, breathtakingly stupid. In a society governed by laws, did they really think a massive, untraceable fortune could just fall into their laps without the authorities noticing? The next day at work, I watched as Tiffany and Kyle marched into our boss’s office and resigned. The sudden request was strange, and our manager tried to persuade them to stay, but Tiffany shut him down with staggering arrogance. “Sorry, boss, but I’ve had a bit of a windfall. Nothing major, just a few easy million. Working just isn’t really necessary for me anymore.” The manager looked like he’d misheard. Colleagues nearby swarmed her desk. “Tiffany, are you still asleep? A few million? Did you rob a bank?” “Did you win the lottery? How’d you do it? Any tips? You gotta teach me!” “You’re kidding, right? You’re all talk. That’s hilarious.” Basking in the mix of flattery and disbelief, Tiffany decided it was time to show them all. “Tell you what,” she announced, “come to my new house in three days. You’ll see for yourselves.” She then dropped the address into the company group chat. Seeing she was resolute, the manager gave up and approved their resignations. As she was packing her things, Tiffany’s eyes landed on the Chanel bag sitting on my desk. She froze. “How can you afford that?” she shrieked. A second later, she seemed to figure it out. “Oh, I get it. You bought a knockoff to keep up appearances, didn’t you? Trying to one-up me.” Her voice dripped with condescending pity. “Give it up, Jessica. There’s no need to pretend. A ten-dollar canvas tote is more your style.” I rolled my eyes and shoved the bag in her face. “Open your damn eyes and look. Does a fake have stitching this perfect? I bought it at the boutique yesterday. You want to see the receipt?” 3 Tiffany stared at the bag, her eyes darting back and forth, trying to find a flaw. After a moment, she regained her composure. “So what? It’s just one bag. I could buy a hundred. As for you,” she sneered, “I bet that took a huge chunk out of your salary. Don’t let me find your nudes on some payday loan website a month from now.” I fired back, “Tch. All talk, aren’t you? Go on, buy one and show me. I think you’re just bluffing.” “Hmph. I’m going right now. You just wait.” Tiffany shot me a hateful glare, stormed out of the office, and went straight to the mall, where she proceeded to buy several luxury handbags. She immediately posted them on all her social media, then sent them to me privately, making sure I wouldn’t miss it. I did some quick mental math. Those bags weren’t cheap. At least twenty thousand dollars, all told. It was obvious where the money had come from. In the days that followed, it became a game. I’d post a picture of a new bag, and she’d immediately post a better, more expensive one to counter me. What she didn’t know was that my posts were all set to “Visible to Tiffany Only.” She took the bait, just as I’d planned. That weekend, I took a trip to the mall. I had a gala coming up and needed some jewelry to complete my look. A sales associate was showing me several sets, explaining each one. Suddenly, a commotion erupted at the entrance. “Show me your most expensive diamond ring!” a voice boomed. Everyone in the store turned to look. It was Tiffany and Kyle. Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world… A sales associate approached them, giving their outfits a quick, dismissive once-over. “Ma’am,” she said diplomatically, “our most expensive pieces are in the seven-figure range. Are you certain that’s what you’re looking for?” Tiffany, new to money and its realities, was stunned. “Seven figures? Why so expensive? Isn’t a diamond just carbon?” A ripple of laughter went through the store. I chuckled, too. Her eyes found me. She and Kyle marched over. “What are you doing here? This isn’t a place for poor people like you. Did you follow us?” Kyle asked, convinced I was still hopelessly in love with him. “Are you insane? I was here first. If anything, you followed me.” The sales associate backed me up. “It’s true, this young lady was here first.” Unable to win the argument, Tiffany changed tactics, her eyes falling on the jewelry I was considering. “Can you even afford that? You’re just wasting their time.” “What’s it to you? It’s not like you can afford it either.” Thinking she had me cornered, Tiffany’s confidence surged. “Of course I can! How much for all these sets? I’ll take them all.” The associate smiled politely. “That would be five hundred thousand per set, ma’am. Two million in total.” They both went silent for a beat, then started picking faults. “Actually, I think these are a bit… average. Besides, what would I do with so many?” I cut her off, my voice sharp with impatience. “Are you buying them or not? If not, I will.” I turned to the associate. “Please wrap all of them up for me.” 4 Her plan to flaunt her wealth had backfired spectacularly. Tiffany looked like she was about to grind her teeth to dust. She slapped her hand down on the counter, stopping the associate. She pointed to a ruby set. “I’ll take that one!” Kyle looked worried. He tugged at her sleeve and whispered, “Five hundred thousand? Isn’t that a little steep?” But Tiffany was too consumed by rage to listen. She demanded the associate wrap it up. They swiped card after card, each one declined for insufficient funds. In the end, they had to pool every cent they had, completely emptying their accounts, to barely cover the cost. Three days passed. Tiffany scraped together the money for the house, met the agent, completed the transfer, and got the keys. The time had come. I made my way to the housing development. My old colleagues were already there, buzzing with anticipation, eager to see how Tiffany was going to strike it rich. Soon, Tiffany and Kyle arrived. She scanned the crowd, and upon confirming I was present, nodded in satisfaction. “Good. Let’s all go up together.” As we walked, one of the colleagues looked around at the run-down environment. “Tiffany, this complex is really old. It can’t be worth much.” “Yeah, there’s no landscaping, and it’s all senior citizens.” “No schools or anything nearby, either. The only good thing is that it’s close to the office, but since you quit, that’s useless.” Tiffany looked at them like they were idiots. “The house itself is cheap, you’re right. It’s worthless. But what’s inside is valuable. And now that the house is mine, everything inside belongs to me, too.” One colleague gasped, remembering a news story he’d seen online about people finding millions in cash in foreclosed properties. The crowd murmured in shock, though some remained skeptical. “You’ve never even been inside the house,” one of the more rational ones asked. “How can you be so sure there’s something good in there?” Even Tiffany wasn’t stupid enough to say she was reincarnated. “The heavens work in mysterious ways,” she said cryptically. Her air of mystery actually worked on some of them. “Tiffany, when you make it big, don’t forget about us!” one gushed. Her ego swelled to its absolute peak, her face beaming. When we reached the apartment door, Tiffany inserted the key. It wouldn’t turn. Her smile froze. She jiggled the key, twisted it back and forth, but the door remained stubbornly locked. The others noticed. “What’s wrong?” Tiffany forced a laugh. “The key’s probably just a little rusty. Hard to open.” She put more force into it, grunting with effort. And at that exact moment, the door swung open from the inside. “Who in the hell is trying to pick my lock! You got a death wish?”

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On the way to finalize our divorce, a truck slammed into our car. Before I lost consciousness, I heard my wife, Aria, whisper, “If I could do it all over again, I would have said yes to Ross.” “To live a life full of passion with him… that’s the life I truly wanted.” When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day of our engagement party. Just like last time, Ross knelt before Aria, a ring clutched in his hand, and asked her to be with him. Without even a glance in my direction, Aria slipped the ring onto her finger, tears of joy streaming down her face. “Ross, I will!” I knew then that she had been reborn, too. So, I chose to let them go. She got her wish, living a life of freedom and passion with Ross. But later, she knelt before me, her voice choked with sobs, begging me to go back to the way things were. 1 Ross, stunned by this sudden turn of events, was momentarily speechless. After she confirmed it a second time, tears of ecstasy welled in his eyes. They clung to each other in a tight embrace, completely oblivious to the fact that the atmosphere in the grand hall had plunged to absolute zero. Every guest’s gaze was fixed on me. I calmly removed my bow tie, tossed it aside, and watched their passionate display with cold indifference. Aria then dragged Ross onto the stage and took the microphone. “Today is my engagement party,” she announced, her voice ringing with newfound conviction. “But standing up here, I’ve realized that the man I truly love is Ross. I’ve let him slip through my fingers too many times, and I refuse to make that mistake again. I want to spend the rest of my life with him!” In that room, filled with our family and friends, not a single person applauded their “love story.” Aria turned to me, her voice now flat and detached. “I was confused before. If you want compensation, I can give you fifty thousand dollars. I hope you’ll stay out of my life from now on.” Her eyes, when they met mine, were filled with a chilling apathy—the result of the twenty years of marriage we had shared in our previous life. But when she looked at Ross, she was once again the passionate, vibrant girl from her twenties. We had dated for three years before deciding to get engaged. The moment I proposed, she had excitedly told everyone we knew. We were showered with blessings from all sides, with one exception: Ross. He was a junior from her university who had fallen for her at first sight. He engineered “coincidental” meetings on campus and, after graduation, found every excuse to remain in her orbit. Whenever he saw me, he’d flash a provocative smirk. “You’re not married yet. I’m not giving up. I’ll make her see that life has more than one path!” I never knew how to handle him, but Aria was always resolute. She would grip my hand tightly and reject him with cold finality. In our past life, to prove her commitment to me, she had rushed us into an engagement ceremony right after the proposal. But at that ceremony, Ross had appeared, dressed in a flamboyant suit, his eyes locked on her. “Aria, this is the last time I’ll ever confess my feelings for you. If you reject me again, I will disappear from your world forever.” In our last life, Aria had taken my hand and placed the ring on her own finger, silently rejecting him one final time. This time, however, she took Ross’s hand and confessed her love for him to the entire world. Faced with the suffocatingly tense atmosphere, I simply stepped back and watched them steal my spotlight. When their emotional declarations were finally over, I spoke, my voice devoid of emotion. “I wish you both the best. Aria, I hope we never see each other again.” 2 Aria froze, seemingly shocked that I had agreed so readily. Ross, on the other hand, let out a whoop of joy, peppering her with kisses before finally turning to me, his face alight with triumph. “Fred, I told you! I told you Aria would choose me!” I gave him a noncommittal nod and turned to leave. As I stepped down from the stage, I stumbled. A pair of delicate, fair hands steadied me. “Mr. Green,” a soft voice said, “perhaps you should start noticing the other people in the room.” I looked at the woman who had caught me—Vera Vance. A small smile touched my lips. I recognized her face from countless financial news segments in my past life. I just never expected she would be at my engagement party. “Noticing who?” I asked. Vera’s smile deepened, her pupils reflecting only my image. She pressed a small slip of paper into my palm. “My number. Call me when you have a moment.” I glanced at her before heading to the changing room. My parents and Aria’s parents followed me in, their faces grim. Aria’s parents forced apologetic smiles. “Fred, our daughter has been foolish. Now that things are like this, we can only do our best to compensate you. Whatever you need, just ask. We’ll do anything to make it right.” My mother scoffed. “As if we need your…” I quickly grabbed my mother’s hand, cutting her off. Then, I turned to Aria’s parents with a bright smile. “In that case, Auntie, how about you transfer the Northgate property to me?” The Northgate plot was currently worthless, but I knew that in a few years, its value would skyrocket. It was that very piece of land that had saved Aria’s family business from bankruptcy in our past life. They drafted the contract on the spot. I couldn’t stop smiling. After they left, my mother slapped my arm. “A grown man, publicly humiliated like that, and you’re grinning from ear to ear!” I held up the contract. “Shouldn’t I be happy about this?” And I truly was. In my previous life, a series of disastrous decisions by Aria’s family had dragged my own family’s company, Green Enterprises, into ruin. Their company was only saved by the Northgate plot. To salvage my own business, I had poured every waking moment into work. Aria had thrown countless tantrums, complaining that our life was dull and tedious. She’d ask why I couldn’t just drop everything to travel the world with her. That’s when Ross had reappeared. He had become a famous travel influencer, his location tag hopping from one exotic country to the next. Aria would watch his videos, mesmerized. She started using “business trips” as an excuse, flying to Africa to watch the wildebeest migration with him. One was a free spirit; the other yearned for that same freedom. It was inevitable that they would be drawn to each other. Her “business trips” became more frequent. Sensing something was wrong, I booked a ticket for the same flight and discovered her betrayal. When I confronted them, the cold, dead look in her eyes stopped me in my tracks. She said that being with me was like being trapped in stagnant water, utterly devoid of life. Only with Ross did she feel truly alive. Eventually, she gave up all pretense. “Let’s get a divorce. You can have three-quarters of the assets. You can have the kids. All I want is my freedom.” “A person like you,” she’d sneered, “all you care about is money and profit. You’ll never understand the joy of a life without constraints.” She said it with the same arrogant confidence she’d had at eighteen. All I could do was laugh. A life of passion and freedom sounded wonderful, but without a material foundation to support it, it was just a fleeting high, followed by an empty void. Once she had her fill of adventure, she would realize she had nothing to show for her life. For a long time after, I heard nothing from her. I’d only catch glimpses of her when Ross’s videos popped up on my feed. It seemed she was truly living the life she wanted. It didn’t bother me. I had my own life, and a partner who truly understood me. 3 I walked into the lobby of Veridian Global, holding a proposal for the Northgate project, ready to discuss a partnership. The elevator doors slid open, and I came face-to-face with Aria. “Fred?” Ross, standing behind her, looked up. They were both decked out in high-end ski gear—the kind manufactured by Veridian. I knew one of Veridian’s subsidiaries was looking for influencers for a new campaign; I just hadn’t realized it was them. I gave a curt nod in greeting and moved to step into the elevator. Aria blocked my path. “How did you know I was here?” “Fred, I just got back to the country, and you’re already chasing me. Can you be any more pathetic?” Ross wrapped an arm around Aria, his eyes full of smug satisfaction. “Fred, you acted so tough when you walked away. Why are you stalking her now? Aria and I are doing great. We’re happy. I hear things aren’t going so well for you, though?” “I heard Green Enterprises took a nosedive?” He looked me up and down, his eyes dripping with contempt for a failure. “You’re so pitiful, Fred. Your business is gone, you’re getting old, you’ve never even seen the world, and now Aria doesn’t want you. Tell you what, why don’t you be our assistant? We could even pay you a little extra.” I looked at them like they were a pair of idiots. Did all that traveling leave their brains on a baggage carousel somewhere? Green Enterprises had been restructured and renamed years ago. The old “Green” was just a small subsidiary I’d left for my younger brother to practice with. “No, thank you,” I said flatly. “I’m doing just fine.” I tried to move past them to the elevator panel, but Ross was relentless. He waved at the front desk. “Can just anyone walk into Veridian? Are you people at the front desk doing your job? Does this man even have an appointment?” The receptionist hurried over. “Mr. Green does have an appointment…” Before she could finish, Ross cut her off. “So what if he has an appointment? I was personally invited here by Ms. Vance herself. If you offend me, I’ll have her fire you!” Aria chimed in with a smirk. “Exactly. And besides, this ‘Mr. Green’ isn’t really here to see Ms. Vance. He’s just trying to find a way to harass me. I’ll handle him for her.” She even pulled out an old photo of us from her phone and showed it to the receptionist, as if offering proof. “Fred, you really are desperate, aren’t you? Making an appointment with the CEO just to get to me. It’s pathetic.” “Take this outside. Don’t embarrass yourself at Veridian Global.” The receptionist looked at me, her previously firm expression now wavering. “Mr. Green, perhaps it would be best if you left.” I felt a knot of frustration tighten in my chest. How could these two be so self-absorbed, so convinced of their own distorted reality? I turned to the receptionist. “Please call the CEO’s executive assistant and have them buzz the private elevator.” She looked at me, her expression turning to one of pity. “Sir, you only have an appointment with Ms. Vance. Why would you need the CEO’s private elevator?” “And besides,” she added, “if you’re really just here to see Ms. Lin, you don’t need to bother the CEO at all.” Ross rolled his eyes and snorted. “Give it up, Fred. Your family is practically broke. You dare to ask for the CEO’s private elevator?” The commotion had attracted the attention of other clients waiting in the lobby. Their whispers were loud enough to hear. “Who does that guy think he is? Asking for the CEO’s private elevator?” “Probably another social climber. I heard the CEO is engaged, but that doesn’t stop these guys from trying.” The audience seemed to fuel Ross and Aria’s performance. Their voices grew louder. “Fred, I know we had a past,” Aria said, her voice dripping with false sympathy. “But can you please not make a scene here? Even if we have some connection with Ms. Vance, I can’t just stand by and watch you cause trouble.” “There’s a coffee shop outside. We can talk there.”

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At the New Year’s Eve gala, my brother, who was supposed to sing, suddenly lost his voice. He was humiliated in front of a national audience. Everyone thought I was the one who drugged him. Even my fiancée joined the crusade to avenge him. Sophia Carlisle cut off all my resources without a second thought. The glory I had fought for for three years was snatched away by her own hands. My stage name, “Zane,” was registered as her trademark; I couldn’t use it commercially without her permission. My songs were reclaimed by the company; without her signature, I no longer had the right to sing them. She even branded me as the other man, accusing me of interfering in their relationship. My moment at the top was shorter than a firework display. 1 While I was being torn to shreds by a relentless storm of online hate, Leo Kane made a high-profile announcement of his relationship. He posted a photo from his hospital bed, no makeup, looking pale but serene. “Sorry to have worried everyone. The doctor says my voice will be fine after half a month of rest. Also, a little update for you all: we’re back together!” In the photo, the notoriously private and never-photographed female CEO was there, her head bowed as she carefully peeled an apple. That woman was my fiancée, Sophia Carlisle. When my parents heard the news, they rushed to the hospital. Over the phone, they refused to listen to a single word of my defense. My mother, hysterical with anger, spat out words she couldn’t take back. “Zane, how could I have raised such a vicious son! If you have any conscience left, you’ll come down here and apologize to your brother right now!” A paparazzo recorded the call and posted it online. Now, the entire internet was convinced. The evidence was irrefutable. I, Zane, was the villain who had drugged his own brother, Leo, during a live New Year’s broadcast because I was afraid of being outshone. And I, Zane Kane, was also the homewrecker who had come between Leo and the CEO of Carlisle Entertainment, serving as his substitute for five years only to tear them apart. “Having a brother like that, Leo Kane must have the worst luck in the world!” “I used to like Zane, but I had no idea he was such a scumbag!” “The other man, and he probably poisoned his own brother? This guy needs to be kicked out of the entertainment industry! Canceled, for good!” I had no way to defend myself. One man’s plea of innocence was a whisper against the hurricane of manufactured outrage and boycotts. All my endorsement deals were terminated. The brands I had signed with demanded compensation. Every penny I had earned over three years was gone, paid out in damages. I was left buried in debt. Perhaps seeing how pathetic I had become, or perhaps wanting to sever ties completely, Sophia finally stepped in and covered the remaining payments. When Leo found out, he wasn’t angry. He was magnanimous. He handed Sophia a bank card with a million dollars on it. “It’s not much, but it’s a gesture,” he said. “Sophia, please tell Zane for me that I don’t hold a grudge. In fact, I’m grateful to him. He gave you back to me, and that’s more important than anything.” “Also, tell him to come home when Mom and Dad have cooled down.” The victor stood alone on his pedestal, basking in the glow of our parents’ favoritism and his lover’s devotion. And me? After years of silent suffering, I was still nothing more than a stray dog kicked to the curb. 【It’s a shame you can’t be here to share my joy.】 【Sophia is throwing a celebration party for me. Want to come?】 The text was from Leo. He was always like this, effortlessly flaunting his perfect life. He was the heir to a wealthy dynasty, the cherished “white moonlight” of a powerful CEO, the successful protagonist of his own story. Even strangers couldn’t help but envy him. “Leo Kane truly has it all!” 2 And I was a rat, crawling through the gutter. No matter how hard I had worked, it was all worthless now. When I didn’t reply, Leo even put on a show at his party, his face a mask of guilt and sadness. “Zane didn’t reply. Is he still angry with me?” Sophia’s expression was unreadable. “If he doesn’t want to come, then don’t worry about him.” Leo and I are fraternal twins. Growing up, he was better than me at everything. I used to wonder if my genes were defective. Compared to my mediocrity, his life was on easy mode. My parents groomed him to be the heir. I was the invisible one, which suited me just fine. It meant freedom. The only thing I was good at, the only place I had any talent, was music. It was Sophia who approached me first, back in our first year of high school. I had just won the school’s singing competition, and she, as the student council president, presented me with the award. Under the spotlight, for the first time, I felt like I had stepped out of Leo’s shadow. I even found a sliver of confidence. As the heiress to Carlisle Entertainment, Sophia took an interest in me. We started spending more time together. I knew Leo was infatuated with Sophia. So when he suddenly developed an interest in music, something he had always scorned, I wasn’t surprised at all. Soon enough, they became the couple everyone envied. After graduation, Sophia offered me a contract with Carlisle Entertainment. That was also the year Leo abruptly rejected the golden path our parents had laid out for him. He vanished, spending six years abroad completely off the grid. Our family was thrown into chaos. Sophia, usually so composed, was devastated. Six years later, when Leo returned, he was a graduate of the Berklee College of Music. With a single tear, he made our relieved parents forget every harsh word they’d planned, and made my fiancée, Sophia, begin to waver, consumed by a guilt she had carried for years. That one tear effortlessly stole everything from me. Now, Leo was basking in the adoration of the public, his name trending on every headline, while I was holed up in a company-owned apartment, teaching myself to write songs. 【The malicious slander, twisted and turned for sport. The years of hard work, dismissed with a careless flick of the wrist.】 My account with ten million followers had long been banned. I started a new one under my real name, Zane Kane, and began uploading my original work. Within half a day, every track was taken down due to malicious reports. The second year of my blacklisting by Sophia. I had no songs to sing, no shows to book. The company gave me zero resources. My manager and assistant were taken away. My contract was a prison, preventing me from even taking on small commercial gigs. My performances were censored, my face blurred out in variety show appearances. As a “disgraced artist,” all my accounts were silenced. Even my burner account on a short-video app was swarmed by haters until it was locked. Meanwhile, under Sophia’s protection, Leo won the “Best New Artist of the Year” award at the National Music Awards. The third year of my blacklisting. Leo competed on Celestial Voice, the top music competition show in the country, and won the title of “King of Singers.” My five-year contract with Carlisle Entertainment finally expired. I did not renew. My former manager, Anna, heard the news and rushed over to persuade me. “Ms. Carlisle is on a business trip in Paris. Why don’t you wait until she gets back?” I knew she was in Paris. In the family group chat I had muted, Leo, who was on vacation with her, was posting photos of their trip almost daily. Seeing my indifference, Anna grew anxious. “Zane, I heard from the higher-ups that before Ms. Carlisle left, she told people to start preparing for your comeback next year. You’ve endured for three years. We’re so close to the finish line. Wouldn’t it be a shame to leave now?” 3 Carlisle Entertainment was a top-tier company, a titan of the industry with immense power, connections, and resources. It was the first choice for countless musicians. But after three years of being crushed under its heel, how could I possibly stay? I continued to organize my lyrics and compositions. Anna pleaded, “Zane, you have to think this through. Once you leave Carlisle, your stage name, your songs—they’re all gone. Are you really willing to let them go?” My hand froze. It was a question I had asked myself a thousand times during a thousand sleepless nights. I didn’t even dare to casually play the songs I had sung countless times. The moment my fingers touched the keys and the intro began, the grief would overwhelm me, and tears would stream down my face. The moment they became a tool for someone to control me, they were no longer mine. I pushed the door open and left without another look back. Anna chased me to the entrance, frantic. “Zane, if Ms. Carlisle doesn’t give the okay, no one in this industry will dare to sign you!” I didn’t turn back. There was nothing here worth looking back for. That night, my phone vibrated. A message from Sophia. 【Have you made up your mind?】 I didn’t reply. I became a spinning top, whipping myself into a frenzy. I started running, constantly moving. I knew it would be hard. Even though three years had passed, no company in the country would dare to sign a disgraced artist like me. Even without Carlisle’s direct pressure, the hashtag #ZaneGetOutOfShowbiz was still trending. “Zane, you’re still singing?” “Sorry, Mr. Kane, but this is a fan-driven market. Our company isn’t willing to take the risk.” “Mr. Kane, we recognize your talent, but our company has a lot of partnerships with Carlisle Entertainment, so…” I walked out of the last agency into a downpour. A curtain of rain blurred the world in front of me. Defeated, I opened my umbrella, a lone black boat adrift in a sea of rush-hour commuters at a crowded intersection. I knew starting over would be difficult. I just didn’t realize it would be impossible. To get a gig, I drank glass after glass with a wealthy female producer. She draped her arm around my shoulders, her touch too familiar. She kissed my cheek, her audacity breathtaking. I ended up hunched over a toilet, vomiting until my throat was raw and bitter. “Don’t be a fool. They’re just messing with you. Who would dare to use you now?” her assistant said, finishing her makeup and glancing at my limp form in the mirror. My head was bowed, my hair a mess. The world was a blur of squalor. I don’t know what happened to me these past two years, but the tears just wouldn’t stop. The moment I looked down, they would fall, relentless and free. I closed my eyes, hot, searing tears pooling in my sockets before spilling over, plunging into a hopeless abyss. The assistant, a woman I’d only just met, seemed to struggle with herself for a moment before pinching her nose and helping me up. “You should go. If you stay any longer, it won’t just be about drinking.” The next day, my name was in the headlines. BREAKING: FORMER POP STAR ZANE REDUCED TO SINGING AT DINNER PARTIES FOR A COMEBACK! The video showed me at the request of a drunk, wealthy woman, standing in front of a crowd, singing an a cappella version of my debut hit, “Radiant Days.” Everyone else was blurred out. Except me. I knew what these women were about, their cruel little games. I could even see the sickening lust in some of their eyes. But I stood up and sang anyway. What if it was a chance? I just didn’t expect that my leaving early would anger someone. They sent the casually recorded video to a gossip account for sport. “So Zane has become a rich woman’s plaything?” “Say what you will, but his three-octave high notes are still unmatched.” “Hate to admit it, but the comment above is right.” “How dare this jinx show his face again? Shouldn’t you just fade into obscurity with your precious master? Why do you have to come out and disgust people?” 4 “That’s just what homewreckers do. They’ll do anything for fame and fortune.” When public opinion decides to destroy someone, they see that person’s very existence as a mistake. My father’s call came for the first time in three years. He launched into a tirade. “Zane, are you not going to stop until you’ve completely disgraced the Kane family name?” I hung up. I didn’t want to hear any more. I drew the heavy curtains in my rented apartment, blocking out the sunlight that seemed to mock me, and buried myself completely under the covers. Five hours after the scandal broke, I got a call from Sophia. “Zane, you really know how to piss me off.” Her voice was devoid of any warmth in the darkness. I heard that the usually stoic CEO, Ms. Carlisle, had been uncharacteristically furious during a financial report meeting today for some unknown reason. In the room, the only light was the name “Sophia Carlisle” glowing on my phone screen, so bright it hurt my eyes. “I’m asking you one last time. Are you coming back or not?” Her voice was as cold and unyielding as I remembered. “Sophia, do you still think I was the one who drugged him?” My hand gripping the phone was nearly white. “Does it matter?” she retorted. I bit my lip so hard I tasted blood. A profound sense of powerlessness washed over me. She was right. It didn’t matter. To her, nothing I did mattered as much as a single one of his tears. My efforts, my explanations—they were all meaningless. I hung up, feeling as if I had been plunged into an icy abyss. It was only then that I realized the truth. The truth had never mattered to Sophia. The six years Leo was gone had bound her to him with chains of guilt. As long as he wanted something, she would give it to him, no matter the cost. The screen went dark. I stared at the ceiling, the hair at my temples soaked with bitter, cheap tears. At 21, I became an overnight sensation with “Radiant Days.” After three years of hard work, my fanbase, the “Lucky Stars,” was a sea of people. Now, at 26, I was trapped in the mud, unable to move. I thought sacrificing my dignity would buy me a chance. I thought enduring the humiliation would lead to a better tomorrow. But in the end, I had only fallen into a deeper, filthier pit. All my struggles, in their eyes, were just the pathetic, self-inflicted failures of a desperate man. I threw an arm over my eyes and let out a wretched, hollow laugh. I laughed until tears streamed down my face, laughed until my body shook. This past year had been agony. In a swamp of despair, I wrote a rock song stained with my own blood. 【They throw mud at me; I use the mud to grow lotuses.】 The track was still reported and shadow-banned. The song still went unheard. The fourth year of my blacklisting. Leo won “Best Male Artist of the Year.” His concert tour sold out arenas from the mainland to the Hong Kong Coliseum. Forbes named him the most commercially valuable male artist in the country. And then, at the height of his fame, Leo announced his retirement from music. He said he was just “playing” in the entertainment industry. Now that he had achieved a grand slam of music awards, he was going back to fulfill his promise to help his parents run the family company. At his final, sold-out farewell concert, Leo sat on a throne in a custom Pronovias suit, looking out over the sea of faces like a king. He was handsome, radiant as the morning sun. “Actually, I’ve been waiting for someone,” he said into the mic. “I want to ask a certain lady, tonight, are you willing to let me be your groom?” The atmosphere exploded. The giant screen split. On the right was Leo on stage, his eyes full of anticipation. On the left was Sophia, in a special VIP seat, her expression completely unreadable. In the end, the crowd witnessed a fairytale moment as the dark knight walked toward his princess. The screams nearly blew the roof off the dome. This “winning the beautiful bride” finale was the perfect end to Leo’s music career. 5 Fans posted videos of the concert online, hailing it as an “epic, perfect farewell.” Countless people witnessed their happiness. The music I had chased with every fiber of my being was just a fleeting, whimsical experience in Leo’s brilliant life. Now that he’d had his fun, he was going back to inherit his billion-dollar fortune and marry the love of his life. In the face of their happiness, all my resentment and frustration, all the lyrics and melodies I had written, seemed ridiculous, meaningless. My life was a complete and utter failure. I couldn’t write another song. The fifth year of my blacklisting. Sophia and Leo held their wedding of the century. Leo personally delivered an invitation to my home. I didn’t go. I got drunk, so drunk I collapsed in an alley behind a bar. The night was pitch black, a hopeless void. My heart was empty. I didn’t feel sad, just an overwhelming sense of being lost. The next day, the morning light spilled onto me. A woman selling breakfast from a street cart tossed a large meat bun at me. She was a whirlwind of activity amidst the steam and sizzle of her stall. “Get up, will ya? A big guy like you, lyin’ around here? Don’t block my business!” Holding the bun, I inexplicably thought of the assistant who had pulled me up from the bathroom floor. Two complete strangers, living their own lives, with no connection to each other. Yet they had both shown me a sliver of kindness. Tears welled up in my eyes. I had faced so much blatant cruelty that I had begun to hate the world and my own fate. For years, I had been a tireless madman, desperately craving success, hard and unyielding as a stone. All because I wanted to prove something to the people who had wronged me, who had mocked me. I wanted to see them repent, to see them in pain. But in the end, I discovered the truth. They didn’t care. If I died in the street right now, no one would notice. Maybe that was the real reason I had shattered. It wasn’t until today, staring at the sun through the steam of a food stall, that I finally understood what it meant to be alive.

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I’m broke. Dead broke. So I was looking for the cheapest place I could possibly rent. The realtor, practically spraying spit with enthusiasm, laid out the discounts: “An apartment gets you 10% off. A walk-up, 20% off. Old building? 50% off. Scene of a grisly murder? 70% off. Victim died a particularly nasty death? 90% off.” I nodded so hard my head nearly fell off. “Got anything that’s an old walk-up apartment where the previous owner died a spectacularly gruesome death?” And that’s how I moved into my new place. My rent is three thousand dollars a month. Paid to me. By the realtor. The first night, the bathroom faucet started gushing all on its own. The dim bedroom light flickered on and off, like a dying firefly. I’d had enough. I shot up and yelled at the shadowy figure lurking in the corner. “The landlord bills us at commercial rates! That’s over a buck a kilowatt-hour for electricity!” “And water is five-fifty a ton!” “You gonna pay for that?!” 1 The gushing faucet went silent. The bedroom light stayed off. With nothing but the sheer, unadulterated force of my broke-ness, I had successfully subdued the vengeful spirit haunting my apartment. Silence returned. I curled up on the large, soft bed, feigning sleep, but a pang of guilt pricked my conscience. The ghost, after all, had been living here just fine. I was the intruder. All the spooky stuff was just his way of trying to get me to leave. I clutched my phone, its screen glowing with the three thousand dollars the realtor had just transferred me. A shaky voice message from him followed: [Miss Reed, that place is seriously haunted. If you feel anything… off… just run!] A vengeful spirit? Was he really scarier than a penniless ghoul like me? I scoffed. A place that paid me to live in it? I was staying for the long haul. Just as I was about to say something to break the heavy silence, I felt a shadowy form loom over my head. My eyes flew open. A face, slick with blood, hovered directly above mine. A gaping, bloody crater marred his forehead, as if someone had caved his skull in with a blunt object. He was barely an inch from my face. I could feel strands of his hair, damp and sticky, brushing against my cheek. Through the thick curtain of blood, the spirit’s lips stretched into a horrifying grin. A scream tore from my throat, loud enough to shatter the night… “Ahhh—!” The spirit, convinced he’d finally terrified me, looked triumphant, smug even. I lunged, grabbing a handful of his hair. “If you can touch me, that means you can touch my unfinished project proposal, right?” “Look, you’re not doing anything tonight anyway. Why don’t you finish this up for me? It’s due to my boss tomorrow.” “You’re a ghost. You don’t need light to see.” “And remember—don’t turn on any lights while you work. Save electricity!” The spirit’s grin froze on his blood-streaked face. After a long, stunned silence, a pleasant, youthful voice drifted through the dark. “You have no shame. You’d even exploit a ghost.” 2 Hey, a broke ghoul is still a ghoul. We’re all in the same boat. The only difference is that I spend my days slaving away for a paycheck, while he can only bounce around the apartment after the sun sets and the city is cloaked in darkness. I slept like a baby. The next morning, when I pried my sleepy eyes open, the spirit was gone. My project proposal was sitting on the desk, neatly stacked. The pages were filled with elegant, handwritten script. I praised the empty air. “You’re the best, buddy! From now on, all my unfinished work is yours.” The air in front of me seemed to shimmer for a second. The closet door creaked open, then slammed shut, as if someone I couldn’t see had just hidden inside. Humming a tune, I packed up the proposal. I’d just hopped on my e-bike to head to the subway when the realtor called. His voice was trembling even more than before. “Miss Reed… you’re… you’re still alive?” My face fell. “What, are you regretting that three-thousand-a-month deal already? We had an agreement. As long as I’m living here, you pay me. On time.” “It’s not about the money!” he stammered. “I couldn’t sleep all night. My conscience is killing me. Miss Reed, please, listen to me. You have to move out.” “That apartment is the scene of a murder. The last tenant died horribly. He was full of resentment, and they still haven’t caught the killer!” 3 The realtor spammed my phone with links to news articles. I vaguely remembered hearing about the sensational murder case. A young tenant, with no known enemies, was found brutally killed in his apartment. The security footage was too blurry to identify the culprit, leaving the police with no leads. After the horrific incident, the once-bustling apartment building emptied out within a week. My eyes scanned across the victim’s name. Danny Osmond. Twenty-three years old, just a year out of college. He should have been in the prime of his life, but instead, he became another statistic in a cold case file. Below the dense text was a slightly blurry photo. In it, a young man was grinning at the camera, a flash of pearly white teeth. It was a loving smile, as if he was looking at the person he adored most in the world, the one holding the camera. The man in the photo had a sharp jawline and gentle eyes. He looked exactly like the vengeful spirit I’d seen last night. I closed the news articles and sent the realtor a voice message. [Don’t worry, I’ll be fine. Just remember to send the three thousand on time every month.] He was a vengeful spirit. I was a penniless ghoul. We were practically family. What was there to be afraid of? He was full of resentment? You think I, a corporate drone, am a little ray of sunshine? My resentment is off the charts, thank you very much. Besides, with him around to do my work, I could cut back on my overtime. The apartment was a long way from my office. The commute home—shared bike to the subway, then subway to my e-bike—took a solid two and a half hours. In the sweltering summer heat, the slightest movement left me drenched in a sticky sweat, my clothes clinging to my skin. By the time I reached the apartment building, it was pitch black. The dark tower loomed like a giant beast in the suburbs, ready to swallow me whole. The building had been neglected since the murder; the elevator had long since stopped working. I began the slow climb up the stairs. In the empty stairwell, the only sound was the echoing clack-clack of my high heels. My apartment was on the sixth floor. After what felt like an eternity of climbing, I looked up, exhausted, at the faint green glow of the floor number. — 4 — I’d climbed so many flights, but I was still on the fourth floor. It was a ghost loop. 4 The high heels were rubbing my ankles raw. I kicked them off, grabbed one by its three-inch stiletto heel, and hurled it at the flickering light on the landing. “I’ve been slaving away at the office all day, and right now, my resentment levels are higher than a thousand-year-old demon’s!” “If you don’t let me go home, I’m going to find your ashes, mix them with gunpowder, strap them to a skyrocket, and whoosh! You’ll be scattered all over Ashton!” The words were barely out of my mouth when the distorted air around me snapped back to normal. Barefoot and carrying my heels, I climbed two more flights. Finally, I was standing in front of apartment 608. I pushed the door open. Danny, his head still a gruesome mess, shot me an eye-roll and continued to float aimlessly around the living room. Why did he get to be so idle? I couldn’t stand to see him doing nothing. I chucked a pile of documents from my bag straight at his hovering form. “Have you got no sense? I get home, and you can’t even be bothered to make dinner or clean up a little?” Danny huffed, his voice indignant. “Ghosts can’t use an open flame.” “So you can’t use the rice cooker?” “Did you buy a rice cooker and rice for me to cook?” “Can’t you go to the store and get them yourself? It’s not like you have to pay! Just grab them and run. Besides a priest, who’s gonna catch you?” Defeated, Danny grumbled a few more times before turning his back on me completely, leaving me with a view of his proud, sulking silhouette. I went to the kitchen, grabbed a handful of spaghetti, and quickly boiled some for myself. The moment the steaming pasta was ready, I started shoveling it into my mouth. At some point, Danny had drifted silently closer. This time, he wasn’t trying to scare me. His eyes were fixed on the spaghetti, a look of intense craving on his face. Feeling generous, I pushed the bowl towards him. “Want some?” 5 Danny’s head drooped. “I can’t eat. I’m a ghost.” “I don’t feel hungry,” he mumbled, “but watching you eat… it looks so good. It makes me hungry… I haven’t tasted food in so, so long.” Danny was trapped in this small apartment. He couldn’t go out. He couldn’t see the sun. Even the simple, lifelong habit of eating three meals a day was gone. He couldn’t taste anything—not sweet, not sour, not salty, not bitter. He couldn’t even smell. I sighed. We were both ghouls, but right now, the vengeful spirit seemed a lot more pitiful than the penniless one. My tone softened. “Do you remember what your favorite food was when you were… alive? I’ll buy it for you after work tomorrow. You might not be able to eat it, but you can look at it. Touch it.” He happily touched the mangled part of his skull, trying to remember. “I don’t recall much from before… but I think… I think I liked durian.” Of course. The most expensive thing on the menu. I glanced at my bank balance. Three thousand and fifty dollars. If it weren’t for the realtor’s payment, I wouldn’t even be able to afford spaghetti. My anger flared. “You had to pick the priciest thing, didn’t you?” “Fine. You finish the rest of my work tonight, and I’ll reward you with a durian to touch tomorrow.” 6 In the most bizarre way imaginable, Danny and I began to live together. The apartment was a one-bedroom. I slept in the bedroom, he floated in the living room. After my shower one evening, I walked through the living room in my thin pajamas. He covered his eyes. “Could you please wear something… more?” It was scorching hot, and since the building used commercial electricity, I couldn’t afford to run the AC constantly. I moved closer to him. His ghostly presence was like a personal cooling unit. The air around him was heavy and cold. We were too close. The only sound was my own breathing. Even though Danny was a ghost, his face pale and bloodless, I could have sworn he was blushing. His hands and feet seemed to fidget, not knowing where to put themselves. “Wh-what are you doing so close to me…?” he stammered. “Aren’t you afraid of me? I died a horrible death. Everyone who’s seen me has screamed in terror.” A flicker of confusion crossed his face. “But you… you don’t seem scared. In fact, from the moment we met, I haven’t seen a trace of fear in your eyes.” I stared at his high-bridged nose and the sharp line of his jaw. If his forehead weren’t smashed in, Danny would have been incredibly handsome. I forced a smile, leaning in even closer, treating him like a human refrigerator. “What’s there to be afraid of? A handsome guy like you is worth three thousand dollars a month! Thanks to you, as long as I live here, the realtor pays me to stay.” “You know, I slave away at my nine-to-five, work all the overtime, and my boss only pays me five thousand a month.” Danny shot me a disdainful look. “I don’t get it. You work so hard, and you make decent money. Why are you so broke you have to live in a murder house for an extra three grand?” “Do you want to touch that durian or not?” “Yes…” “Then shut up and get back to work!” Reluctantly, Danny picked up my work files and started frowning at them in the dark. Being a ghost had its perks. Saved a ton on electricity. 7 To coax Danny into doing my overtime, I begrudgingly spent a hundred and twenty dollars on a durian. On a sweltering evening, I parked my e-bike under the apartment building and stepped into the fire escape stairwell. Just as the heavy fire door was swinging shut, a greasy, overweight figure squeezed in behind me. This building had been empty for a long time. It was supposed to be a dark, silent monolith. But the light I left on every night was like a tiny pearl, a beacon announcing that someone had moved in. I’d only been here three days, and I already had a stalker. His heavy, labored breathing followed me up the stairs. His sticky, greedy eyes felt like a razor scraping across my skin, examining every inch of me. He knew the building was empty, so he kept his distance, always half a flight of stairs behind me, unhurried. Every so often, he’d look up at me, a predator sizing up its cornered prey. My palms were slick with nervous sweat. I quickened my pace. Suddenly, the thought of Danny and his mangled head seemed almost comforting compared to the man following me. I scrambled up to the sixth floor, my hand trembling as I fumbled for my keys. The stalker finally made his move. He closed the distance in a few quick strides and wrapped a thick arm around my waist. “Hey there, beautiful. I’ve been watching you for a few days.” “You’ve got guts, you know that? This whole building is empty, and you dare to live here all alone.” “It’s just the two of us here tonight. I’m gonna keep you real good company.” I swallowed hard, acutely aware of the power difference. I had to stay calm. I tried to find an excuse to make him back off. “Who said I live alone? I live here with my boyfriend.” The greasy man roared with laughter. “You must not know. There was a murder here three months ago. Everyone moved out that same month. I’ve been watching. You’re the only one here.” “Boyfriend? If you really have one, tell him to come out. I’d love to meet him.” My key hadn’t even touched the lock.

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My wife developed severe postpartum depression after our son was born. The only way she could sleep was by hiding in our walk-in closet every night. Even after six long months, she still couldn’t share a bed with me. I tried to defy it once. Convinced it was all in her head, I gently lifted her sleeping form from the closet floor and carried her back to our bed. The result was a disaster. She woke up and sobbed inconsolably, and the next day, her depression spiraled so badly she had to be hospitalized. After that, I walked on eggshells. I never dared to touch her again. I just let her retreat to the closet, night after night. Until our son’s first birthday. That morning, Stella emerged from the closet, stretching lazily like a cat. I took one look at her face, glowing and rosy from a good night’s sleep, and said it. “I want a divorce.” The party chatter in the room died. Every eye swiveled to me. Her father’s face hardened. “Because my daughter sleeps in a closet? You want to divorce her for that?” Her mother’s eyes, already misty with emotion for her grandson, welled up with tears of rage. “Stella went through hell to give you a child! She’s suffering from postpartum depression, can’t even sleep in a comfortable bed, and you—you heartless bastard—you have the nerve to ask for a divorce?” I remained silent, my decision unshakable. Stella’s own eyes turned a painful, brilliant red. Tears clung to her lashes as she confronted me. “William,” her voice trembled, “if I hadn’t carried your precious son for ten months, I wouldn’t have postpartum depression! I know you don’t understand, but to divorce me just because I sleep in the closet… are you serious?” I stared at her, my gaze cold, and pointed a finger at the offending piece of furniture. “You said that closet is your home,” I said, my voice devoid of all emotion. “Fine. Go marry your closet.” … “The courthouse. Ten o’clock tomorrow morning.” I turned my wheelchair to leave the party, but a hand shot out and clamped down on my arm, yanking me to a halt. It was her brother, Tim. “William, you’re not going anywhere until you explain yourself!” he snarled, his eyes burning with a hatred so intense it felt like he wanted to devour me whole. He squeezed my arm, the pressure making it hard to breathe. “We’re both men. I know exactly why you’re doing this,” Tim seethed. “It’s about what happens in the bedroom, isn’t it?” “My sister nearly died giving you that baby. Have you even looked at her stomach? It used to be flawless. Now it’s covered in stretch marks like a roadmap to hell. She gained thirty pounds for you, her whole body changed, and now you’re disgusted? A little late for that, don’t you think?” His words were brutally blunt, and they hit their mark. Everyone in the room glared at me, their faces a mixture of judgment and contempt. I could feel them mentally lumping me in with that one distant cousin whose name was now mud in the family circle—the guy who divorced his wife after she “let herself go” post-baby. They were ready to nail me to that cross. As I opened my mouth to defend myself, Stella’s father slammed his wine glass down on the table. “William, a man’s fortune rises when he cherishes his wife,” he said, his voice low and menacing. “Every woman goes through this. If this is your reason for leaving my daughter, I’ve lost all respect for you.” Her mother let out an impatient scoff. “All you men ever think about is what’s between your legs! My daughter has been struggling for over a year. Can’t you show a little compassion? She’s your wife, not your release valve!” I said nothing. Stella’s tears finally broke free, fat droplets rolling down her cheeks. “William, you soulless bastard. Is that really why? Is this really about me sleeping in the closet… about us not having sex?” Her voice, thick with sobs, rose to a crescendo. “Let me ask you something, William. Our son is a year old now. How many diapers have you changed? How many times a day does he need a bottle? Have you ever even cared to notice?” The room turned on me, a chorus of angry murmurs. “He looks so put-together, but he has zero sense of responsibility. What a pathetic excuse for a man.” “You’d think he had a throne to pass down, the way he wanted a son. Turns out he can’t even be bothered to raise him.” “Now I get why Stella’s depressed. If I were married to a man like that, I’d want to kill myself.” Expressionless, I scanned their hostile faces and let out a cold, humorless laugh. “Say whatever you want.” My eyes found Stella. “Tomorrow morning. The courthouse.” “So you admit it?” Tim’s fist tightened, and he swung at me. “I’ll kill you, you animal! My sister must have been blind to marry a piece of trash like you!” As his fist flew toward my face, Stella shrieked in terror. “Tim, no! Don’t hit him!” She threw herself in front of me, shielding my body with her own. “He was in a car accident! He can’t even fight back! You’ll hurt him, and… and it would break my heart!” The punch stopped inches from my cheek. A bitter, desolate smile twisted Tim’s lips. “You see that, William? Do you see how much she loves you? It’s a reflex. She sees you in danger and protects you without a second thought. You’re a cripple in a wheelchair, and she hasn’t abandoned you. What right do you have to complain about her?” He leaned in close, his voice a low growl. “William, I’m asking you one last time—are you sure you want to go through with this divorce?” “Yes.” I turned my head, my face a mask of indifference, and looked at Stella. Tears streamed from her eyes as she shook her head. “William,” she whispered, grabbing my arm, “I know I’ve neglected you this past year. It’s my fault. I’ll make it up to you, I promise. I’ll change.” A harsh laugh escaped my lips, and I shook her off with disgust. “Stop the act. Get away from me.” “No matter what, this marriage is over.” I spun my wheelchair around, determined to leave. Thump. The sound of knees hitting the floor. Stella was on the ground, tears streaming down her face as she jammed her hand into the spokes of my wheelchair. If I moved an inch, her hand would be crushed. My brow furrowed. “Let go.” She just sobbed and shook her head. “William, I’m on my knees begging you. Can’t we just talk this through? Please, don’t divorce me. You’re doing this in front of everyone… my family will be so worried…” Her voice cracked. “And it’s just about me sleeping in the closet, isn’t it?” She swore, her words choked with tears, “If you hate it that much, I’ll stop! I’ll never sleep in there again! I’ll sleep in the bed with you, even if… even if I can’t sleep a wink…” Her supposed concession was my condemnation. The guests erupted in a fresh wave of insults. “He’s not a man, he’s a monster!” “Making a federal case out of something so small. Whoever married him is the unluckiest woman alive.” “Poor Stella, living like this. Honestly, if it weren’t for the baby, she should divorce him!” In their eyes, I was the undisputed villain. They looked at me as if they wanted to flay me alive. A smirk touched my lips. “Then why don’t you dare tell them the real reason you sleep in the closet?”

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The live comments scrolling in my vision told me I was the cherished daughter in a perfect family story. That my parents and brother loved me more than anything. But in reality, Dad’s hand was quick to strike, Mom’s words were a constant barrage of insults, and my brother’s face was a permanent mask of cold indifference. Finally, after another round of their usual abuse, I was done. I would no longer listen to the comments. I would no longer be their perfect, obedient daughter. 1 I was so exhausted I forgot to feed my sister’s goldfish. Out of a whole tank, one of them died. My sister, Leslie, wouldn’t let it go. She demanded I replace it. I tried to soothe her, promising I’d buy her a new one as soon as I got paid from my part-time job. But her eyes blazed with fury as she shrieked, “Buy a new one? Bubbles had a life! You think you can just buy a new life?” “Bubbles” was the name she’d given the goldfish. I stood there, frozen and unsure what to do. Hearing the commotion, my father stormed toward me. His palm cracked against my cheek. My head swam, the world tilting for a moment. My mother’s voice was a sharp, endless drone of insults in my ear. “It’s Leslie’s birthday today! Not only did you not get her a gift, but you deliberately killed her precious Bubbles. Sara, how can you be so wicked?” “Bubbles was her companion for three years, her most treasured pet! You’re just angry we didn’t take you to that fancy restaurant, so you took it out on Bubbles, on all of us!” And the comments scrolling before my eyes were still sympathizing with them. [Look, you can see it, can’t you? Mr. Kripke, the ruthless business tycoon, his hand is trembling after hitting her!] [Oh my god, he loves her so much. Just touching her fills him with so much guilt.] [Right? And I’ve never seen Mom, the brilliant and gentle designer, look so disappointed! Her face is all flushed, it’s so cute! My heart is melting!] [Sara is being so difficult. Why does she have to provoke her loving parents like this?] I shook my head, trying to force the words out. I wasn’t being difficult. Cradling my stinging cheek, I tried to explain that after cleaning the entire house, I was just too tired. The fridge was empty, and I hadn’t eaten all day. I’d collapsed onto my bed and fallen asleep, completely forgetting about the fish. “I didn’t kill it on purpose…” But my brother Ethan’s cold voice cut through my explanation like a shard of ice. “Sara, stop it. You hate Leslie for taking the sixteen years of life that should have been yours, so you’ve been targeting her ever since you came back. Don’t think for a second that just because you’re my biological sister, I’ll take your side. You have no idea how much we love Leslie.” “You will take full responsibility for Bubbles’ death.” Tears finally spilled from my eyes, hot and heavy. The injustice felt like a physical weight in my chest, crushing me. I didn’t understand. If Leslie cherished that fish so much, why didn’t she feed it herself? Why hand the responsibility to me? There was a whole tank of them. I fed them every day, but I could never tell one from the other. How was Leslie so sure that the dead one was “Bubbles”? It was a fish. How was I supposed to take “full responsibility” for the death of a fish? Should I call the police to assess the damages? Ask a judge to sentence me to jail time? My father’s foot shot out and kicked the back of my knee. My legs, already weak from hunger and exhaustion, buckled. I crashed to the floor, my kneecaps screaming in protest against the hard tile. It felt like they might have shattered. “Apologize to Leslie right now! And get on your knees and beg for Bubbles’ forgiveness!” The order was given. My brother grabbed the back of my head and forced it down. Thump. Thump. Thump. Three hard knocks against the floor, and my dignity was buried along with that fish. I watched through a blur of tears as my parents wrapped Leslie in a comforting embrace, murmuring soft words to her. For me, there was only cold, merciless punishment. “You murdered Bubbles, so you will wear mourning for him. You will hold a vigil at his grave. Starting now, you will kneel in the garden by Bubbles’ tomb. You will not move. You will not eat, you will not drink, and you will not sleep, until the seven-day mourning period is over.” 2 It took Leslie ten minutes to carve “Tomb of Bubbles” onto a small wooden plank. Then, she buried “Bubbles” in the small garden. After she’d said a few words of remembrance, a light rain began to fall. She coughed twice, and my father immediately suggested she go back inside to avoid catching a chill. With a cloying sweetness and a look of “deep reluctance to leave Bubbles,” she said, “Mom, Dad, Ethan, you should all go inside too. Bubbles wouldn’t want you to get sick because of him.” One thoughtful sentence, and the frowns on their faces melted away. As for me, I tried to stand… But my hands and feet had been bound with rope to a nearby fence post. [Sigh, Mr. Kripke loves Sara so much, but she just keeps messing up! Always making her little sister cry.] [Mrs. Kripke keeps looking back. She must be worried about Sara getting wet in the rain.] [Ethan’s eyes are red, too. They’re only doing this to help Sara grow into a better person. My heart aches for them!] [Here it comes! Mr. Kripke is bringing out a burlap sack to keep the rain off Sara’s head!] [So thoughtful! How can a father be this good…] As that last comment scrolled by, a heavy, grimy sack was pulled over my head. Panic seized me. My world plunged into darkness, my nose filled with the acrid, chemical stench of fertilizer. “Dad, no, please! I’m allergic to fertilizer, don’t put this over my head…” I struggled, but my father’s foot slammed into my stomach. Pain exploded in my abdomen, and I doubled over, unable to breathe. His voice was a cold whisper by my ear. “If Leslie hadn’t reminded me, I would have forgotten that mourners must be properly attired. Don’t you dare take it off, or you’ll force my hand.” The chemical fumes from the sack flooded my lungs. I could feel my throat starting to swell, my nasal passages closing up. Breathing became a desperate, ragged effort. My skin erupted in painful, itching welts. I had to beg him. “Dad, please, I’m really allergic! Take it off! I’m going to die, I’m really going to die…” His only reply was a cold, dismissive snort. “You, who killed Leslie’s pet out of pure jealousy? If you die, you die. Don’t think for a second I’ll shed a tear for you.” My heart plummeted into a black abyss. And yet, the comments flashing before my eyes insisted… he loved me. [His eyes are all red. If Sara would just apologize properly, he’d forgive her in a heartbeat!] [Why is she so stubborn? He even remembered it’s her birthday today. He has a surprise for her.] [Mom and Ethan are watching from the window. They’re so worried their hearts are hurting. How can they love her this much! Come on, cherished daughter, pull yourself together! Apologize! There’s a cake and presents waiting for you inside!] Was it true? If I just apologized, would he take the sack off? If I just apologized, would Mom give me my presents? If I just apologized, would Ethan sing me “Happy Birthday”? “I’m sorry, Dad, I was wrong! I shouldn’t have forgotten to feed my sister’s goldfish. It’s all my fault. Please, forgive me. Please, Mom, Ethan… Leslie… forgive me…” I groveled on the wet ground like a dog, pleading with him. But my father’s voice seemed to crawl up from the depths of hell itself, terrifying and final. “You’re only realizing your mistake now? It’s too late.” “You stay here and reflect. Atone for your sins against Bubbles.” “And if you die… you deserve it.” I should have known. 3 I’d lost count of how many times the comments had deceived me. Every time my parents and brother lashed out, the comments would reassure me that they loved me fiercely. They just didn’t know how to express it, they’d say. I needed to be the mature one, the good girl who tried to please them. But every attempt I made to win their favor was met with them pushing me further and further away. The comments said Dad had a stressful job, that he’d made enemies, and that any stranger in the house—me—was a security risk. The comments said Mom was a design genius, her hands meant for creating, not for mundane chores. The comments said my brother was a legendary race car driver, a man of speed and adrenaline who shouldn’t be tied down by domestic duties. So, the housework fell to me and Leslie. But Leslie, coddled and pampered her whole life, was useless. She’d slip while mopping, burn herself while cooking, and scrape her delicate fingers raw while washing clothes. And every time, my parents and brother would rain their fury down on me. They’d blame me, the older sister, for not taking proper care of her. Slowly, I took over everything. Even then, they were never satisfied. Leslie’s pencil was dull? It was my fault for not sharpening it. My parents and brother threw away all my drawing pencils. Leslie woke up late and missed the school bus? My fault for not waking her. They grounded me for two months, forbidding me from going to school. Leslie spent all her allowance and had no money for a drink? My fault for being stingy and not buying her one. They confiscated all my money and forced me to get a part-time job to pay for my own school fees and living expenses. Everything was always my fault. My parents believed it. The comments believed it. And now, as I was suffocating inside a fertilizer sack, on the verge of death, the comments still believed it was my fault. [You’re the most pathetic ‘cherished daughter’ I’ve ever seen!] [Couldn’t you have just apologized earlier? You had to go and make your family lose face!] [They don’t even know how to get you back inside for your cake now!] [The cake will go bad if it’s not eaten today. I guess they can celebrate your birthday for you, through the glass.] [Ethan is singing ‘Happy Birthday’ so passionately! That deep voice is so sexy. He’s such a doting brother!] [The gift they got you is that art book you’ve always wanted. It’s on your bed right now.] [See? We told you they love you most. Next time, don’t make them angry, okay? Just be a good little cherished daughter!] Through the gaps in the burlap, I could see the warm, happy scene playing out behind the garden’s glass doors. My heart was a dead, cold thing in my chest. There wasn’t a flicker of feeling left. The cake was for Leslie. The presents were for Leslie. The birthday song was for Leslie. And that art book the comments mentioned… it was just an old one Leslie didn’t want anymore. It wasn’t just the comments that had been lying to me. I had been lying to myself. If they truly loved me, would they have treated me like a servant? Would they have ever laid a hand on me, or screamed such hateful words? Love and its absence are as clear as night and day. They didn’t love me. They never had. And in that moment, I made a vow. I would never listen to the comments again. I would never again be my parents’ and brother’s good little girl. If I can just survive these seven days…

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1 After producing top-secret materials, my grandmother announced my wedding was ready. My fiancé Liam, heir to a prestigious family, promised to respect all my wishes. My superiors gifted me a 10-carat pink diamond for the ring. Liam took the stone, promising a surprise. On the wedding day, I found a loose Hello Kitty ring instead. Calling Liam, his secretary Tiffany answered: “Hello Kitty’s my favorite. Got a problem?” “You turned my ring into this monstrosity?” I demanded. She sneered, “You think you’re special? I decide everything. If I wanted you in a mascot costume, Liam would agree.” “Give Liam one hour to deliver a real ring,” I warned, “or bail your secretary out of jail.” The ceremony was in one hour. My superiors and family were all busy with work and hadn’t arrived yet. If they saw me without a pink diamond on my finger, they would raise hell. But if Liam could find a suitable replacement, I could probably come up with an excuse. I heard a man’s breathing on the other end of the line. I quickly explained the situation. “We have one hour. Your family is the biggest jeweler in the country; finding a ring shouldn’t be a problem. Get one over here, fast.” “And it can’t be too small. At least six carats, otherwise…” Before I could finish, the line went dead. No matter how many times I called back, I couldn’t get through. Didn’t my grandmother say Liam was the heir to a prestigious family? Is this how a prestigious family behaves? I set down the Hello Kitty ring and was about to go find him myself when Tiffany sauntered in. “Mr. Thorne is very busy. He doesn’t have time for someone as unpresentable as you.” “I’d advise you to just obediently put on your wedding dress and get ready to go on stage with your Hello Kitty ring. Otherwise, if Mr. Thorne is displeased, he might just replace the bride with me on the spot.” As she spoke, she walked over to the vanity and slipped the Hello Kitty ring onto her own finger. It was a perfect fit on her left ring finger. It was obvious whose measurements the ring had been made for. Rage boiled in my chest. “Tiffany, this wedding isn’t a child’s game. Stop messing around and get me a new ring.” “Shut up. You bitch. No one asked for your opinion. I’m in charge of this wedding. And you will wear this ring on stage!” “Oh, your fingers are so small, you probably can’t even wear it. How about I help you with that?” Her eyes, filled with jealous malice, scanned my slender fingers. She glanced around, then picked up a heavy makeup case from the table and advanced on me. “What are you all standing there for? Hold her down! I’m going to smash her hand until it’s swollen! Let’s see who can say the ring doesn’t fit then.” This was beyond unreasonable. “Tiffany, I’m giving you one last chance. Get Liam. Otherwise, you’ll be facing more than just a trip to the police station for this pink diamond. You’ll pay a much heavier price.” Tiffany burst out laughing. “A price? That’s hilarious. Do you think this pink diamond is yours to make threats with? Everyone knows the Thorne family is the biggest jeweler in the country. You obviously stole this pink diamond from them!” “The Thorne family belongs to Liam. A thief like you should be grateful if I gave you a ring made of grass.” I couldn’t be bothered with her. If she was here, Liam had to be nearby. He was probably just too busy with the wedding to answer his phone. If I explained the situation to him in person, he would surely take my side. But as I opened the door, Tiffany exploded. “How dare you ignore me! What are you all standing there for? Grab her! Grab her!” “You little bitch, I’m going to teach you a lesson. Since you don’t want to wear the ring, how about you don’t show your face at all?” She grabbed various eyeshadow palettes, highlighters, and creams, mashing them all together with her hand. Then, she lunged, smearing the mess all over my face. She deliberately jammed her fingers into my eyes, mouth, and nose. I could barely breathe. “Tiffany, are you insane?! When the Thornes see me like this, they’ll never let you get away with it!” Tiffany cackled. “Aria, open your eyes and see who’s holding you down.” I forced my eyes open through the stinging pain. The door was open, and a few people were peering in, their expressions amused, as if watching a show. No one moved to help me. Even a small child nearby yanked out a fistful of my hair. “Aunt Tiffany, this little bitch doesn’t know what’s good for her! Watch me and Uncle Liam teach her a lesson!” Others chimed in. “Miss Reed, you should just apologize to Miss Dawson. If she’s unhappy, Mr. Thorne might think you’re an embarrassment and dump you.” “Everyone knows Miss Dawson is the apple of Mr. Thorne’s eye. He had to bribe her with 5% of Thorne Industries and beg for three days just to get her to agree to this wedding.” “If you piss off Miss Dawson, your life in the Thorne family is going to be miserable. Actually, you might not even make it out of here alive today. Mr. Thorne will clean up any mess she makes.” Tiffany ripped the glove from my hand and stomped on it viciously. “This is what you get for crossing me. Let me tell you, even if you become Mrs. Thorne, you’ll still have to bow and scrape before me.” “Everyone in the Thorne family listens to me. If I say you don’t eat, you’ll starve. If I say you don’t drink, you won’t get a single drop, not even piss!” My fists were clenched so tight my knuckles were white. I twisted, breaking free from the people holding me, but I didn’t dare fight back. Before the wedding, my family and superiors had warned me repeatedly: “If anything happens, talk it out calmly. Don’t lose your temper, and don’t take off your gloves. You know those people can’t even handle a single one of your fingers.” But the gloves that suppressed my abilities were already off. My temper was about to snap. If I could just control it, I could show Tiffany what a grave mistake she had made. But just as I reached out, a glass of red wine was thrown in my face. My eyes burned, and my body trembled uncontrollably. A voice cut through the chaos. “What are you doing?!” 2 I grabbed a tablecloth to wipe the wine from my eyes. Standing there was a man in a white suit with a red rose pinned to his lapel. He was elegant and tall, and the people around him deferred to him, treating him like the center of the universe. My grandmother knew me well; this man was practically sculpted to my tastes. He frowned deeply at Tiffany. “Tiffany, what are you doing? I’m swamped with the wedding today, and I still have to waste time looking for you. Can’t you make my life a little easier?” Tiffany looked utterly wronged. “I was just trying to sort out the ring and leave, but this bitch wouldn’t stop making trouble. She not only stole a gem from your family, but she also had the nerve to demand I find her a 20-carat ring as compensation.” What a blatant lie! I stood up straight, about to speak, but Liam cut me off impatiently. “Who is this cleaning lady? Get out of my wedding!” I took a deep breath, suppressing my anger, and explained, “Liam, I’m Aria Reed, your bride. You took the 10-carat rough pink diamond I sent you to make into a wedding ring. I…” “Enough. The Thorne family doesn’t need a shrew, and we certainly don’t need a country bumpkin who doesn’t know how to behave. Tiffany will stand in for you at the ceremony.” “I’ll explain everything that happened here to both our families. You can stop embarrassing yourself.” I was stunned. I never expected him to say something like that. His secretary was the one who started it all. “But this was all your secretary’s…” “Oh, right. I almost forgot.” Liam’s gaze was icy, as if he were looking at a maggot in a sewer. “Many important people are attending my wedding today—business tycoons, famous jewelry designers. You wasted so much of my secretary’s time that she couldn’t greet the guests with me, which has seriously damaged the interests of Thorne Industries.” “She’s in a bad mood now. Why don’t you do a striptease for her to let off some steam?” Her being in a bad mood had nothing to do with me. “Aria Reed, my grandfather said you were good-looking. But looking at you now, you’re just a toad. I have no idea what tricks you pulled to get my grandfather to favor you so much.” I was floored. It took me a long moment to find my voice. “Liam, after all this, what makes you think I would still marry you?” He looked as if he’d heard something amusing. The people around us burst into laughter. “There’s a line of women waiting to marry Mr. Thorne. If it weren’t for the old master threatening his own life, do you think a toad like you who crawled out of god-knows-where would be worthy of him?” “My Uncle Liam belongs to Aunt Tiffany, you bitch! You have no right to talk to him!” “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll start stripping. If you don’t, we don’t mind helping you.” The Thorne family really lived up to their name. A bunch of animals who didn’t treat people like human beings. “I won’t be attending the wedding, and I won’t be marrying you, Liam. But right now, I want the 10-carat pink diamond my superiors gave me back. Mr. Thorne, you’re the CEO of Thorne Industries. Surely you wouldn’t stoop to coveting a country bumpkin’s single pink diamond, would you?” Liam was taken aback. “A single pink diamond? My family wouldn’t even give it a second glance.” With that, he picked up the Hello Kitty ring and tossed it at my feet. The diamond clattered on the floor and rolled towards me. “Take your diamond and start stripping. I don’t have time to waste on you.” I took a closer look at the diamond. The color, the cut, the fire—nothing matched the original. This wasn’t the pink diamond I had given Liam. It was just a pink Padparadscha sapphire. I took a deep breath. “I said, I’m not marrying you. And…” Tiffany cut me off with an exaggerated gasp. “Who asked for your opinion? You’re just a tool for Mr. Thorne to show his filial piety. If the old master hadn’t chosen you, do you think you’d have the right to stand here?” “Don’t push your luck. Suck up to me, and I might graciously allow your name to appear on the marriage certificate with Mr. Thorne. Otherwise, there are plenty of people who can replace you.” I didn’t care, but my temper was reaching its limit. “Then let them replace me. Now, give me back my rough pink diamond. This is not my stone!” I took out my phone and called my superior to inform them the wedding was off. But Tiffany snatched my phone and threw it on the ground. “Trying to run? No way. You’re apologizing to me today!” The onlookers were getting impatient. “Aria Reed, can you just hurry up and apologize? Miss Dawson can close a deal ten times more valuable than your little pink diamond in a minute. You can’t afford to waste her time.” “Mr. Thorne is being too patient. Indulging this toad before she’s even married into the family.” “I think Aria Reed knows Mr. Thorne is a filial grandson and is just playing hard to get.” “Right. The moment Mr. Thorne threw the diamond at her, she tried to run. She’s just trying to get his attention.” Me? Trying to get Liam’s attention? That was the funniest thing I’d ever heard. “First of all, the rough pink diamond I sent was worth five hundred million. It was an extremely rare Fancy Vivid Purplish Pink diamond. This stone at my feet is just a Padparadscha sapphire. It’s less than three carats, poorly cut, and worth a few hundred thousand at most. Mr. Thorne, I don’t want a botched stone. Now, you will compensate me with a rough pink diamond worth five hundred million, in its original state.” Tiffany narrowed her eyes and whispered something in Liam’s ear. Liam immediately flew into a rage. “Aria Reed, don’t push your luck!”

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That night, my colleagues invited me to a hotel, telling me they’d arranged for some “private entertainment” to be sent to my room. I was about to turn and walk out when the doorbell rang. Standing outside was my ex-wife. The woman who had drained my love dry for the sake of her first love. The woman who, on our anniversary, had played out this very “private booking” fantasy with him. “Damn, Austin, you lucky son of a bitch. Look at this one, she’s gorgeous…” After taking a few more lingering looks at my ex-wife, my colleagues reluctantly filed out of the room. The moment the door clicked shut, she slammed me against the wall. Her eyes were burning with rage. “Austin. You have a hell of a nerve. You’re calling for escorts now?” “You,” she seethed, her voice dangerously low, “belong to me. This is the last time. If I find out you’ve done this again, I’ll personally make sure you never use it again.” 1 Her condescending attitude dredged up all the bitter memories. A surge of my own anger coursed through me, and I shoved her away. “What right do you have to control me?” I shot back. “As my ex-wife? Or as the entertainment? Let’s not forget, I’m the one who ordered you. You should be listening to me.” With that, I yanked the door open and walked out. To my surprise, my colleagues were still huddled outside the door. They swarmed me the second they saw me. “Austin, man! What are you doing? You’re not gonna enjoy a beauty like that?” “I’m worried about catching something.” “Nah, I don’t think so, man. I specifically asked about that.” Then, their eyes darted around mischievously. “Well, if you’re not going to… maybe we will…” They started to move toward the door, but I blocked their path. “I wouldn’t if I were you,” I warned them. “She’s divorced, on her second marriage. You really want her psycho husband coming after you?” I was trying to give them a friendly warning, but the more I said, the more suspicious they became. I just sighed, shook my head, and walked away. The next day at the office, my ex-wife, Sera, walked up to my desk in front of everyone and placed a small cupcake on it. Then came the announcement: she was my new boss. The jaws of the colleagues from last night dropped wide enough to fit an egg. “Holy shit… she’s our new boss? Austin, you missed the chance of a lifetime to sleep your way to the top!” “I don’t know… why would the new boss give you a cupcake? You think it was love at first sight last night?” Then, my words from the hotel came back to them. “Wait a minute, Austin… are you the psycho ex-husband?” No. I’m the one she cheated on. I tossed the cupcake into the trash, grabbed my bag, and walked out of the office. Let them guess. I was done explaining. 2 I always thought that if I saw my ex-wife again, I would be filled with sorrow. But in reality, my heart no longer stirred for her. Not even a ripple. Sera and I were married for five years. They say most couples don’t survive the seven-year itch. For us, it only took five. Five years of her relentlessly chipping away at my love for the sake of her high school sweetheart. The moment I finally gave up was on our fifth anniversary. I’d spent the entire day decorating our home, preparing a surprise for her. It turned out she had a surprise of her own, and it arrived first. That evening, I received a video. In it, Sera was dressed in a skimpy French maid’s outfit, knocking on a hotel room door. “Hello,” she cooed. “I’m your private booking for the evening. Are you Mr. Luke?” “I am.” “Excellent. Then I’ll begin my service for you now…” As she spoke, Sera knelt down between Luke’s legs. What happened next was painfully obvious. My fingers trembled. This was her anniversary gift to me? How… thrilling. A moment later, two dimly lit photos appeared on Luke’s social media feed. The caption read: “Tonight, you’re my little kitten.” I had Luke on my ‘close friends’ list, so I got the notification instantly. My little kitten… how sweet. I immediately called Sera. It rang for a long time before she finally picked up, her breathing ragged and uneven. “What are you doing?” I asked through clenched teeth. “Working late.” Just then, I heard Luke’s heavy breathing in the background. And in that moment, the rage inside me evaporated, replaced by an unnerving, absolute calm. I was such a pathetic fool. Why did I even bother asking when I already knew? Was I that desperate to be lied to? “Sera,” I said, my voice devoid of all emotion. “Tomorrow morning. Eight-thirty. The courthouse. We’re filing for divorce.” 3 The line went silent for a moment, then I heard a sharp cry of pain from Sera. Finally, she shot back, her voice dripping with accusation, “Austin, are you starting this again? Divorce? Seriously?” “Just be there tomorrow. If you’re not, I’m filing a contested divorce.” I couldn’t listen to another second of it. I hung up. I started packing, my only thought to escape this house, to break free from the prison I had built for myself around her. As I packed, I saw the trash can, overflowing with matching ‘couples’ items. Matching toothbrushes, matching shower caps, matching watches. All of them bought by me. None of them ever touched by her. I should have known then. She never loved me. All these years, I had locked myself away in the illusion that she did. Even our wedding photo was a lie. Her smile was forced, while I grinned beside her like a lovesick idiot. How ironic. The distance between us was a wall she had built, a wall I could never cross. I moved into a small apartment I’d bought before we were married, threw my stuff down, and collapsed onto the bed. For the first time in a long time, I slept soundly. The next morning, I was humming a tune on my way to the courthouse. I took a number and waited in the hall for Sera. She was always punctual. I’d said 8:30, so she would be there. But two hours passed, and there was no sign of her. Then, Luke’s social media updated again. It was a nine-photo grid. Sera, fast asleep, her body covered in a constellation of purple and blue bruises. Luke’s caption: “Oops. I think I was a little too rough with my kitten last night.” Perfect. I screenshotted the post and saved it. I thought I would be furious, that I would call her like the pathetic clown I used to be, demanding an explanation. But instead, I felt a rare sense of clarity. This was evidence of her infidelity, gift-wrapped and handed to me. Only a fool would refuse it. After saving the images, my fingers trembled slightly. It was a lie to say it didn’t hurt. This was someone I had loved for five years. But I had already pulled myself almost completely free. This was just the last thread. I waited at the courthouse until they closed for lunch, but Sera never showed. A clerk walked over. “Sir, we’re closing for our lunch break. You can come back this afternoon.” I nodded. “Okay.” “What are you here for?” “A divorce.” “Well, if the other party hasn’t shown up after all this time, it probably means they don’t want one. Maybe you two should go home and talk things over.” I shook my head. “No, she was up all night with her lover. She probably hasn’t gotten out of bed yet.” The clerk stared at me, shocked into silence. As I walked out, I called Sera again. This time, she answered immediately, her voice sharp with irritation. “What do you want?” “The divorce papers. When are you coming to sign them?” Sensing my anger, Sera paused, then said, “What’s the big deal? We can talk about it when I get home tonight.” And with that, she hung up without a second thought. So, I did exactly what I said I would. I filed for a contested divorce. With the clerk’s guidance, I completed the process online. That afternoon, I bought some groceries and new housewares, planning to cook for myself. I had just put everything away when Sera’s call came through. Her voice was laced with fury. “Where are you? It’s this late and you’re still not home?” It was seven in the evening. Because I wasn’t at home to greet her, she was furious. Yet, last night, and countless nights before, she had stayed out all night without a word. When I didn’t answer, she continued. “Weren’t you whining about an anniversary gift? I bought you one.” I ignored her bait. “Did you receive the summons?” “The what?” “I told you. If you didn’t come to sign the papers, I would file for a contested divorce. You should have received the court summons by now.” “Austin, are you sick in the head? Can’t we just live our lives in peace? Why are you making such a scene about divorce?” “How can your master take his rightful place if I don’t get out of the way? Or do you just enjoy the thrill of the affair so much you don’t want to get divorced?” My voice was ice cold. “If you don’t want this to get ugly, just sign the papers.” I hung up on her. I didn’t want to tear everything apart. We had been together for five years; a little dignity at the end was the least we could do for each other. I washed the vegetables and started cooking. Tonight, I was making something just for me. Something insanely spicy. An hour later, as I was about to sit down and eat, I heard a noise at the door. Sera let herself in. She was wearing a sheer black dress, the bruises on her body faintly visible, making her look even more suspect. Her face was a dark storm cloud, her eyes fixed on me in a death glare. In the past, I would have been on my knees, crawling to her, begging for forgiveness. That’s how it always was between us. Right or wrong, if she frowned, I was the one at fault. But now, with a stark clarity, I knew I had done nothing wrong. In fact, looking at her in that outfit, I felt… nothing. It was just an outfit. So it was true. Love really does put a filter on everything. Note to self, I thought. Change the locks tomorrow. Don’t want any more trash finding its way in. 4 Sera slammed her purse onto the dining table. A heavy cloud of cologne followed her, clinging to her clothes. It was a man’s scent. Well, after the kind of close-contact activities they’d been engaged in, it was only natural. She pushed a gift box toward me, her attitude as arrogant as ever. “Open it.” “No, thank you.” Over the years, Sera had given me gifts before. They were always things Luke didn’t want. I had no desire to be his personal recycling bin anymore. Every time we fought, she would do this—toss me some of Luke’s cast-offs as a peace offering. She would even pick fights with me on purpose, just to have an excuse to go out with him. Then, a cheap gift, and we would be “all better.” She never knew I had access to Luke’s social media. I’d already seen all this junk before. When I didn’t take the box, her composure cracked. In her mind, she had graciously offered me a way out, and by refusing it, I was being ungrateful. “Did you bring the signed divorce papers?” I asked. “Or are there some clauses you want to change?” I didn’t understand what she was stalling for. She was the one who wanted to be with Luke. Me stepping aside should have been exactly what she wanted. As for our assets, we had a prenup. In the event of a divorce, I would leave with nothing. That was something her best friend, Bianca, had goaded her into. Looking back now, I suppose I should thank them for saving me the trouble. “Luke got a bonus last night, so we went out to celebrate. Is there a problem with that?” “No.” “Then what are you so upset about?” “What does that have to do with our divorce?” I looked up, my gaze cold. Sera was taken aback for a second, then let out a scornful laugh. “Is that what this is about? You’re jealous? Austin, you’re being so petty. And using such a childish tactic? Did you really think I would coax you and beg for forgiveness?” She sneered. “You really think you’re something special, don’t you? The last few times I invited you out, what did you do? Luke and I were just playing a simple party game, and you threw a tantrum and embarrassed everyone. With an attitude like that, who would want to hang out with you?” Her voice was filled with accusation and anger. I couldn’t be bothered to argue. “Fine. Just sign the papers as soon as possible.” I picked up my chopsticks and started eating as if she wasn’t even there. After a long silence, Sera glared at me and spoke. “Austin, I know you’re angry because I didn’t come home last night. Fine. Tomorrow night, I’ll host. I’ll invite everyone over to our place. We’ll call it a celebration for our anniversary. How does that sound?” Having issued her command, she turned and left, not even waiting for my response. How interesting. Who invites a crowd of people to celebrate a wedding anniversary? I was speechless. She was so used to treating me like a servant. After finishing my meal and cleaning the dishes, I checked the status of my divorce petition on the court’s website. After a moment’s thought, I selected the option to proceed to judgment. Thanks to the public outcry that had abolished the mandatory “cool-down” period for divorces, I could skip that step. Now, all I had to do was wait for the court’s ruling. Best case, 24 hours. Worst case, a month. And then I would be free.

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Two days before our engagement party, Charles traced the tip of my finger with his thumb and suddenly brought it to his lips for a kiss. “Nora,” he murmured, “don’t all you girls love getting your nails done? How come you never do?” I was ironing the dress I planned to wear, and I smiled without looking up. “I’m on a computer all day. It’s a pain to type with long nails.” “You should get them done. A French almond manicure would look beautiful on you.” He brushed his thumb over the edge of my nail. “You know, with a sheer pink base and a little blooming effect. It would really suit your skin tone.” A hiss of steam from the iron scalded my hand. I flinched, looking up at him. “Since when do you know so much about manicures?” 1 The air hung still for a few seconds. A flicker of panic crossed his eyes before he forced a smile. “Oh, I just saw it online somewhere.” We’d known each other for fifteen years, been in love for ten. I knew him better than I knew myself. When he lied, he would look away and then flash that stiff, unnatural smile. Then, he’d change the subject. “I just remembered, I have a package downstairs I forgot to pick up. I’ll be right back.” He patted my head out of habit and walked out the door, not even bothering to change out of his slippers. His phone was sitting right there on the couch. I stared at it for a long moment before picking it up, my fingers typing in his passcode. After all this time together, it was the first time I had ever looked through his phone. There was nothing. It was pristine. I was his only pinned chat, my contact name saved as “The Wife.” The rest of his chat history was just family, our mutual friends, and colleagues. I should have been relieved. But the knot of dread in my stomach only tightened. On a dark impulse, I opened his contacts and checked the “recently added” list in his messaging app. There was only one person from the last three months. The profile picture was of Kyrie Irving in his jersey—Charles’s favorite basketball player. I tapped on the profile. It was a girl. Her username was Skylar. The chat history was gone. Even the initial “friend request accepted” notification had been deleted. I backed out and typed her username into the search bar. A group chat popped up: “The Drinking Crew.” Charles had archived the group, but the chat history was all there. Five people: Charles, Skylar, and Charles’s three childhood friends—Sean, Mike, and Ben. And just like that, I learned the truth. All those nights over the last three months when Charles was “suddenly called into work for overtime,” he was actually at a bar. Skylar was the bartender. The four of them were regulars. On July 6th, Sean had sent a photo. Skylar was nestled against Charles, her eyes hazy from drink, her arm wrapped around his as she laughed. I saw them instantly—her long, slender fingers, tipped with perfect French almond nails. 【Pic of the year!】 a message from Sean read. 【Charles, man, if Nora wasn’t in the picture, I’d totally set you two up.】 Charles’s reply: 【If Nora wasn’t in the picture, I wouldn’t need your help.】 July 15th, a message from Charles: 【Hey, don’t send that video of me and Skylar from last night to anyone. It was just an accident.】 Sean: 【Got you, bro. No worries.】 Skylar: 【It was just a drunken kiss. Don’t sweat it.】 【Your girlfriend isn’t that petty, is she?】 Followed by a string of laughing emojis. July 25th, a message from Mike: 【What the hell happened? Skylar, you’re a legend. You left a hickey on Charles’s neck!】 Ben: 【Charles, you’re a dead man. If Nora sees that, she’ll kill you!】 Charles: 【Haven’t been home for a couple of days. Been crashing at Skylar’s.】 I finally understood. The “sudden business trip” he’d taken was just an excuse to hide the mark on his neck from me. I kept scrolling. August 1st. The day Charles proposed to me. That night, he’d left me to “hang out with the guys” and didn’t come home. The next day, he showed up with a cut on his face. He said one of the guys got drunk and they’d gotten into a stupid fight. That wasn’t it at all. Sean: 【Charles, my man! Saving the damsel in distress!】 Charles: 【That bastard dared to hit on Skylar. I’m letting him off easy by not breaking his hands.】 Skylar: 【Thanks for last night. When you get married, who’s going to protect me like this?】 Charles: 【You’re my girl. Married or not, I’ll protect you forever.】 It felt like a giant hand was squeezing my heart, cutting off my air. As I finished reading, so many things from the past few months finally clicked into place. Charles’s suspiciously frequent overtime, the stray cat hairs on his clothes, the unfamiliar playlists that kept appearing on his Spotify. All of it. It was all connected to Skylar. It took me a full minute to absorb the reality. In the year we were supposed to get married, my fiancé’s heart had wandered. 2 I clicked on his payment history. A week ago, Charles had spent over a hundred dollars at a high-end nail salon downtown. The manicure… it finally all made sense. I heard a noise at the door and quickly placed his phone back on the couch. He returned with a pile of packages, all for me. “Here, this is that mille-crepe cake you’ve been wanting.” “And that phone case you liked. I bought it in all three colors.” “And this—your new Labubu blind box. I managed to snag it for you.” He laid everything out, then smiled at me. When he smiled, his eyes would curve into crescents. It was beautiful. “You’re so good to me.” “You’re my wife. Who else would I be good to?” I watched him, my heart feeling like it was being sliced apart. The next morning, I went to that nail salon. “Could you please pull up the security footage from this day?” In the video, he and Skylar walked in, arm in arm. Charles was even carrying her blue canvas tote bag. He sat on the sofa for the entire four-hour appointment, just waiting for her. Every now and then, Skylar would turn and say something to him. Even through the grainy footage, the adoration on his face was unmistakable. When her nails were done, she bounced over to him, holding out her hands for him to see. Charles smiled, leaned down, and gently squeezed her fingertips. I watched in silence until the salon employee handed me a tissue. Only then did I realize I was crying. I remember that day vividly. I was swamped with work and my stomach was killing me. After pulling an all-nighter, I had to force myself to go out and buy flowers and party favors for our engagement party. He had told me a major problem came up with his project and he couldn’t help. He even gave me a detailed, dramatic account of his boss throwing a fit. It had all been a lie. He’d spent those four hours in a nail salon with Skylar. “Have they been here before?” I asked the employee. She hesitated. “Miss Skylar is one of our regulars. She comes in about twice a month. For the past month, this gentleman has always come with her.” I nodded slowly. “I’d like the same thing she got. A French almond manicure. Sheer pink base, with a blooming effect.” When I got home that evening, Charles saw my new nails. The color drained from his face. “Do you like them?” I asked, waving my hand at him. He took an involuntary step back. “I got them done just like you suggested. Don’t you like them?” “They’re… beautiful.” I looked him straight in the eye. “Is there anything you want to say to me?” A storm of emotions churned in his eyes. Desperate panic he was trying to hide, hesitation, guilt. In the end, he just shook his head. He wrapped his arm around my shoulders in that familiar, intimate way. “Nora, let’s get some rest. Tomorrow is our big day.” “I suddenly remembered, Jenna needed me for something. I have to go over to her place for a bit,” I said, pulling away. He frowned slightly. “Your best friend has the worst timing. Why didn’t she say something earlier? It’s almost ten. Let me drive you.” I shook my head, slipped my hand from his grasp, and walked out of the apartment. Maybe I just wanted to rip the band-aid off, to make my heart break completely and get it over with. I went to Skylar’s bar—a place called “Serendipity.” 3 The lighting was dim and intimate, a lazy jazz tune drifting through the air. I spotted her immediately—the girl behind the bar, mixing a drink. She wore flawless makeup and had a head of rebellious pink hair. She was carefully tucking a slice of lemon against the inside of a glass. I never thought Charles would fall for someone so flashy, so vibrant. He always said he loved how quiet and gentle I was, how I was so understanding, like a flower that bloomed just for him. I walked up to the bar. “A Long Island Iced Tea, please.” Skylar glanced at me and offered a small, sad smile. “Coming right up. Just a moment.” “You don’t look very happy,” I observed. “…Is it that obvious?” She rubbed the corner of her eye. “The man I love is getting engaged tomorrow.” “Did you try to stop him?” She shook her head, her expression stubborn. “What right do I have? Our whole relationship was a mistake from the start.” I took the drink she offered, my voice trembling. “Make me another one. This one’s for you.” Maybe she was just desperate to unload the weight on her chest. All it took was one drink, and she started treating me like her personal diary, telling me every last detail about her and Charles. “I knew he had a girlfriend, but I fell for him anyway.” “I tried my clumsy little ways of flirting, of showing him I was interested. He knew what I was doing, but he never once pushed me away.” “One night, I got drunk and kissed him. I think we were both just waiting for it to happen. He pinned me against the bathroom stall… that was our first time.” “After we sobered up, he said he couldn’t betray his fiancée. But when I told him I was scared to be alone, he still came over.” “I know he doesn’t love his girlfriend anymore. That thirty-year-old hag, she’s so frumpy and old-fashioned, doesn’t even know how to put on makeup. I have no idea how he stood her for so many years.” “He told me he was getting engaged. I cried for hours, and he just held me and comforted me until I fell asleep. Then he left.” “I think I went crazy. I actually went to their apartment, his and his fiancée’s. He told me I was crazy, too. We ended up in their bedroom, on her bed. We didn’t even use a condom.” “I didn’t take a pill that time. I just kept thinking, if I got pregnant, maybe he would choose me.” “When he holds me, I can really feel that he loves me. If I had just met him first, there’s no way he would have chosen that old woman, right?” Her eyes were red and swollen. She gave me an embarrassed smile. “You don’t think I’m pathetic, do you?” In that moment, my heart felt like it had been hollowed out. The pain of betrayal and the sting of humiliation twisted together until it all went numb. A phone rang. She pulled it out, and a smile broke through her tears. “See? I told you he can’t let me go.” She put it on speaker. Charles’s voice drifted through the bar. “Babe, you at the bar? Can I come see you?” “You’re getting engaged tomorrow—” “I’m already outside. Just one last time. I want to hold you again.” By the time Charles walked in, I was already gone. Standing on the street corner, I watched as Skylar flew into his arms. The kiss was fierce and desperate. I clutched my chest, turned, and walked away without doing a thing.

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Five years after I broke up with Martin Sheals, he became a titan of the business world. And I became one of the city’s most infamous socialites. To secure a partnership with Sheals Industries, my father served me up to him on a silver platter. Martin just sneered. “So this is the life you were so desperate for when you left me, Elara.” He humiliated me without restraint, conspired with others to toy with my emotions, and methodically crushed every last one of my hopes. Then, when he finally learned the truth behind our breakup, he came back, begging me to take him back. But by then, I had already let him go. 1 Marcus Blake had finally tracked down the hotel where Martin was entertaining clients, and he dragged me there with him. His face was slick with a sycophantic smile as he pushed me to offer Martin a toast. “Elara, darling, make sure you take good care of Mr. Sheals tonight.” I raised my glass, my hand trembling slightly, and met Martin’s mocking gaze. I had tried to steel myself for this, but seeing the man I still loved look at me with such open contempt after all these years was suffocating. A greasy, middle-aged executive sitting next to him decided to make things difficult. “Come on, beautiful, one glass is nothing,” he slurred. “If you really want to show Mr. Sheals how sincere you are, you’ll drink this entire bottle.” He was one of Marcus’s biggest rivals, and since he couldn’t attack Marcus directly, he aimed his venom at me. The problem was, I couldn’t drink. A glass or two was fine, but any more and I’d break out in a painful, full-body rash. The men at the table started hooting and hollering. My face flushed, then drained of all color. Marcus was more than happy to let them make a spectacle of me; it livened up the party. My dignity, my safety—none of it mattered as much as his business interests. I instinctively glanced at Martin. He just sat there, a faint, detached smile on his lips. He didn’t look at me, didn’t say a word to stop them. He was an observer at a zoo, watching the monkeys perform. I lowered my eyes, a wave of self-loathing washing over me. I was the one who had ended things five years ago, screaming that I never wanted to see him again. Seeing me humiliated like this? He was probably enjoying it. I picked up the bottle of whiskey. The greasy executive, emboldened by Martin’s indifference, bellowed with laughter. “Look at this one! She knows how to please a man! Hey, Sheals, if you’re not interested, maybe you can let the rest of us have some fun with her tonight!” Martin nonchalantly twirled the signet ring on his finger, his smile never wavering. “Be my guest, Mr. Davies.” As if I were nothing more than a trinket to be passed around. A sharp, searing pain pulsed through my chest. I couldn’t help but remember a time when he had held me in his hands like I was the most precious thing in the world. Five years hadn’t been long enough to numb me to the chasm between then and now. Half a bottle of bitter liquor later, my head was spinning. The air was thick with jeers and vulgar jokes. Someone finally noticed something was wrong. “Hey, Blake, is your girl allergic to alcohol or something?” The moment the words were out, Martin’s eyes, sharp as daggers, shot toward me. My cheeks were on fire, itching and burning. The rash must have already spread across my face. I quickly bowed my head, trying to hide my pathetic state. Suddenly, Martin let out a cold laugh and slammed his glass down on the table. “Really, Blake? You bring someone who can’t even drink to my dinner? Are you trying to cause a scene and ruin my reputation, or are you just looking for a payout?” My spine went rigid. The heat on my face was no longer just from the allergy; it was from pure, unadulterated shame. “Mr. Sheals, my deepest apologies! How about I get someone else for you, someone who can handle her liquor?” Marcus said, scrambling to his feet and yanking me up to apologize. He looked one step away from forcing me to my knees. “No need. The party’s over,” Martin said, standing up abruptly. “And you should probably get your… asset… to a hospital.” He walked out without a second glance. The room fell silent. With the main guest gone, the dinner dissolved. I hadn’t managed to say a single meaningful word to him, hadn’t even brushed against the sleeve of his suit. For that failure, Marcus was furious. While I was still lying in a hospital bed, he threw a card at me. On it was the address to Martin’s private villa. “I don’t care how you do it, but you will get that contract with Sheals Industries,” he snarled. “Or I swear, I’ll cut off your mother’s medical treatments.” 2 I stared at his retreating back, a profound chill seeping into my bones. No one would believe it if I told them. The man who treated me like a bargaining chip, a piece of property to be traded for profit, was my own father. Before he married my mother, he was the picture of a gentle partner. After, when he realized she couldn’t adLunn his career, he took out all his professional frustrations on his wife and daughter. My mother, terrified he would one day kill me, finally gathered the courage to leave, taking me with her and leaving everything behind. But fate is a cruel mistress. Years later, my mother fell gravely ill. I had no choice but to go back to him, to beg him to save her life. It just so happened that his company, Blake Enterprises, was facing a crisis. He agreed to send my mother to a top clinic in Germany for treatment. The price was that I had to stay with him, to be his pawn, to charm and appease whichever powerful man he deemed useful. I never imagined he would then hide my mother away, using her as leverage to control my every move. I clutched the card, the address burning into my palm. Martin’s last words to me from our breakup echoed in my ears: “You’ll regret this.” And now, here I was, about to crawl back to him, to smile and beg. I could already imagine the scorn, the humiliation he would heap upon me. But the private investigator I’d hired still hadn’t found my mother. If I wanted her to be safe, I had to swallow my pathetic pride. It wasn’t the first time I’d had to do something like this anyway. That’s what I told myself. But as I stood before the imposing gates of Martin’s villa, the urge to turn and run was overwhelming. As I hesitated, the gate swung open silently. I took a deep breath and walked in. The house was quiet. Just as I was about to call out, someone grabbed me from behind, slamming me down onto the sofa. Martin was on me like a man possessed, his hands tearing at my dress. Hot, frantic kisses landed on my ear, my neck, my shoulder. His hand clamped over my mouth, muffling my screams, leaving me to flail in a blind panic. I struggled so fiercely that he finally stopped, letting out an annoyed “Tsk.” He loomed over me, watching with cold amusement as I scrambled to pull my tattered clothes together. “My apologies,” he said, his voice dripping with insincerity. “Wrong person. I thought you were my fiancée.” 3 Fiancée? My hands froze. My heart, which was just beginning to recover from the assault, took another direct hit. “You’re… you’re getting married?” I stammered. “What do you think?” he shot back with a derisive laugh. I hung my head, hiding the devastation on my face. For a fleeting, foolish moment, I had actually thought… that he still had feelings for me. I forced my lips into a smile, trying to keep it from looking as broken as I felt. “Congratulations.” I don’t know what I said wrong, but his expression instantly darkened. “Did you come all this way just to spout nonsense?” I wrestled with the storm of emotions inside me and finally found my voice. “Mr. Sheals, could you please consider the partnership with Blake Enterprises?” “The losses from partnering with Blake outweigh the benefits,” he stated flatly. “I’m not running a charity. Or are you suggesting you can make up for those losses?” How could I? I had nothing. But I needed this deal to keep Marcus placated. “As long as you partner with the Blakes, I’ll do anything you ask.” “Anything?” he purred, leaning in. “Would you be willing to be my secret lover?” My head snapped up. His eyes were locked on mine, deadly serious. There was no hint of a joke. But… “But you have a fiancée. Even if you want revenge on me, you shouldn’t degrade yourself like this.” Martin burst out laughing, as if I’d told the funniest joke in the world. “Elara, what is there about you that’s even worth my revenge? You really think too highly of yourself.” His words were like a slap. Heat flooded my face, and a bitter ache spread through my chest. I turned my head away, as if not seeing the unfamiliar cruelty in his eyes could make it disappear. After a long, heavy silence, I finally whispered, “Mr. Sheals, I can’t…” At my refusal, he smiled again. He moved closer, his breath ghosting across my cheek. “Marcus sent you to me because he assumed I still had some lingering feelings for you, didn’t he? So why are you playing the saint now?” He had guessed my humiliation exactly. I flinched away from his piercing gaze. Suddenly, we heard the beeping of the front door’s keypad. My mind jolted, and I shoved him away with all my might. The woman who walked in was Martin’s fiancée, Sasha Pierce. She had a chic, short haircut that framed a face with a striking, almost boyish confidence rarely seen in women. Her every move was graceful and self-assured. She and my timid, shrinking self were polar opposites. I had no idea how Martin could have “mistaken” me for her. I hadn’t expected to meet her. I stood awkwardly, not knowing where to put my hands. After a brief introduction, Sasha slung an arm around my shoulder, a strange, knowing smile playing on her lips. Her eyes roamed over my face. “Well, well. I had no idea this dog Martin had such a beautiful friend.” She paused. “But… why is your lipstick smudged?” My entire body went rigid. In that one second, I planned out exactly which ocean I wanted my ashes scattered in. I frantically tried to cover my mouth, my eyes darting to Martin, who looked completely unconcerned. I realized my reaction was a dead giveaway, but thankfully, Sasha didn’t press the issue. I mumbled a lame excuse and fled to the bathroom. The moment I saw my reflection, I wanted to dissolve into thin air. Anyone seeing my swollen, bruised lips would know exactly what had just happened. And I had pathetically tried to act like nothing was wrong in front of his fiancée. I couldn’t stay a moment longer. Exhausted and guilt-ridden, I came out of the bathroom and quickly said my goodbyes. But Sasha grabbed my hand, her face alight with excitement. “It’s settled then! We’re all going camping on the mountain peak tonight to watch the sunset!” Before I could even refuse, I was bundled into a car, utterly bewildered, on my way to a mountain I’d never seen. Sasha chattered excitedly the entire way. I stole a glance at the driver’s seat. Martin’s face was a cold, hard mask. If he hated me so much, why was he bringing me along? I soon found out. He wasn’t going to miss a single opportunity to humiliate me. 4 After a bumpy ride, we reached the summit. It was only then that I realized their friends were already there. The moment our car stopped, a group of wealthy heirs and heiresses, deep in their revelry, swarmed over to greet us. Someone teased Martin, saying he must be a god descending from the heavens to deign to go camping. Martin just smiled, wrapping an arm around Sasha’s shoulders. “Can’t be helped,” he said, his voice laced with affection. “Sasha loves it.” The group cheered and whooped, only then noticing me standing awkwardly by the car. I had a certain reputation in these circles: the shameless social climber from the Blake family. It wasn’t a flattering title. These rich kids probably never imagined I’d have any connection to the great Martin Sheals. Subtle, knowing glances were exchanged. Martin made no move to introduce me. The atmosphere turned awkward. Someone finally tried to smooth things over, asking Martin who I was. He glanced back at me, his expression flat. “No one important.” Martin’s attitude dictated how I was treated. To curry favor with him, someone immediately took a jab at me. “Wow, some people have no shame. Throwing themselves at an engaged man.” “Is it really that surprising? She latches on to whoever has money and power.” I dug my nails into my palms and pretended I didn’t hear them. A lanky, thuggish-looking guy came over to toast me. I still had a patch of rash on my leg that hadn’t healed. I politely declined. The man took it as a personal insult. His face turned crimson. He shoved the wine bottle right at my lips. “You can drink with everyone else, but not me? Who does a whore like you think you are, playing hard to get?” The clearing fell silent. In my peripheral vision, I saw Martin take a leisurely sip of his wine. Everyone was waiting to see me made a fool of. He was no exception. I cursed myself internally. What was I hoping for? If he had so much as frowned, none of them would have dared to be so bold. But I still needed something from him. If he wanted to torture me, I had to endure it. I tried to control my shaking hands as I reached for the bottle. Suddenly, a foot shot out, kicking the man to the ground. Sasha stood in front of me, her face cold as she scanned the crowd with disdain. “Whoever brought this piece of trash can get the hell out with him.” Someone was standing up for me. It was a novel experience. A pang of emotion hit me, and my nose started to sting. I let Sasha lead me, dazed, to a tent. It wasn’t her fault, but she apologized sincerely. “I’m so sorry, Elara. A friend of mine brought him. Martin and I had no idea he was that kind of scum.” I had already composed myself. I thanked her gratefully and told her it was okay. Sasha sighed. “You’re just too soft, that’s why people walk all over you. Next time you run into someone like that, you have to…” She started shadowboxing the air, making me laugh out loud. The exhaustion must have been written all over my face. After making sure I was really okay, Sasha ignored my protests, pushed me into a sleeping bag, and zipped it up. She even patted the top of it gently, the way my mother used to when I was a child. It was a little funny, but a wave of warmth spread through me. Ever since returning to Marcus’s world, I had been surrounded by nothing but deceit and manipulation. I hadn’t felt this kind of simple kindness in a very long time. Even though my chronic insomnia made it impossible for me to sleep in a strange place, I closed my eyes to humor her. And I made a silent vow. For what she did for me today, I would never, ever do anything to hurt her. 5 Remarkably, I slept soundly until it was dark. I had just stretched luxuriously when a dark shadow in the corner of the tent nearly made me scream. The figure lunged, covering my mouth. The smell of alcohol filled the air. Martin’s voice was a low, hoarse whisper in my ear. “Be quiet. Everyone’s right outside.” I could hear the faint sounds of the party. I nodded frantically. Martin finally removed his hand but kept me pinned in his arms. Even in the pitch-black tent, I could feel his gaze, sharp enough to pierce my skin. I lowered my head, uncomfortable. My slight, squirming movements seemed to annoy him. He grabbed my chin, forcing me to look at him, and the arm around my waist tightened. The vast difference in strength between a man and a woman was starkly, terrifyingly clear. This wasn’t even a kiss. It was a punishment. All I felt was the stinging pain of his teeth against my lips. He moved to my neck, my collarbone. The buttons of my blouse popped open. Silent tears finally streamed down my face. I pressed my hands uselessly against my chest, my voice trembling as I begged. “Martin, don’t do this… please…” His hot palm paused on the small of my back. His lips brushed against mine as he whispered, his voice a soft, seductive poison. “I can let you go.” “You know what you have to do.” He was obviously talking about becoming his mistress. My breath hitched. The image of Sasha smiling and tucking me into bed flashed in my mind. I pressed my lips together and shook my head, my vision blurred with tears. The corner of Martin’s mouth tightened. The faint smile vanished, replaced by a thunderous scowl. He sat up, letting out a sharp, derisive laugh. He wiped a tear from the corner of my eye with his thumb. “Elara Lunn,” he said, his voice laced with cold confidence. “I’ll wait for you to come crawling to me.” The next week and a half passed in a state of nervous tension, but the incident at the campsite didn’t seem to have any major repercussions. I began to relax. Martin’s threat must have just been an empty one. Still, I started deliberately avoiding him, which meant the partnership with Sheals Industries was now impossible. Ironically, Sasha and I became friends. Seeing me stressed and scrambling to find a replacement for the Sheals deal, she was incredibly thoughtful and offered to introduce me to some of her contacts. Thanks to her, I finally secured a new partnership. Blake Enterprises was in a slump, and the Sheals deal had a long timeline. This new project was a much-needed lifeline for Marcus. He begrudgingly accepted it and, as a reward, gave me my mother’s latest medical report. Seeing the photo of her gentle, smiling face, I breathed a sigh of relief. This crisis, at least, was over. I thought my entanglement with Martin would end there, that we could both go our separate ways. But then, we ran into each other at a private restaurant. I was in the middle of a pleasant conversation with the head of the new project, a Mr. Norris. Suddenly, Martin strode out of a private room. In his position, everyone in the city wanted a piece of him. Mr. Norris shot up from his seat, greeting him with effusive warmth. Martin was polite but distant. I tried to make myself as small as possible, but his sharp gaze still found me. He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Miss Lunn. You’re every bit as resourceful as they say.” I knew what people said about me. I knew it wasn’t a compliment. I froze. By the time I snapped out of it, all I could see was his cold, retreating back.

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