Category: English

Everyone mocked me. They said Liam would dump me, the “stand-in,” the moment she came back. But his “One That Got Away”—his legendary first love—dragged me to get a DNA test instead. “You guys look too much alike. I don’t believe there’s no blood relation.” That day, I discovered I was the long-lost heiress to a billion-dollar empire. Chapter 1 Liam’s “One That Got Away,” Chloe, returned to the States. Instead of a dramatic showdown, she dragged me to the hospital for a DNA test. While waiting for the results, I sat on a bench in the hallway. To my left was Liam, the CEO who was technically my “Sugar Daddy.” To my right was Chloe, the legendary Dream Girl. I was sandwiched between them, sitting stiff as a board. I didn’t dare move. Absolutely frozen. I felt like a ten-thousand-watt lightbulb, completely superfluous. I tried to get up to find another seat, but Liam and Chloe simultaneously pressed me back down by my shoulders. Liam: “Sit. Don’t wander off.” Chloe: “Sit. Wait for the results.” I sat back down timidly, squeezed between them like the filling in a very awkward Oreo. The doctor pushed open the door, holding a report. Doctor: “Ms. Chloe, the results are in.” Chloe stood up immediately. “Well? Is there a relation?” Doctor: “Yes. She is your biological younger sister who went missing years ago.” !!! I was so shocked I instinctively pinched Liam’s thigh. Liam glanced at me but said nothing. Chloe let out a long breath. “Biological sister. Good.” I wanted to say something but stopped. Chloe sighed. “The pressure of inheriting a billion-dollar empire alone was too much. Finally, someone to share the burden.” She gently stuffed a Black Card into my hand. “This card is yours now. I transferred fifty million dollars for pocket money. Spend it however you like.” In that instant, I forgot the word “no.” So, it was true when my foster mom said she picked me out of a dumpster! I took the card with trembling hands, moved to tears. “Thank you, sister.” After all these years, my billionaire sister finally found me! Chapter 2 I shamelessly asked my sister: “Sis, can I use this money to keep a man?” Liam frowned slightly. Chloe answered: “You can keep ten men if you want.” My eyes lit up. I said fawningly, “Sis, I’ll take you to a host club! I’ll order ten male models for you!” Chloe’s eyes lit up too. “Male models? Sounds good. Little sister, you understand me. I’ll order twenty for you!” My eyes were glowing like a starving wolf who hadn’t seen meat in eighty years. Liam rubbed his temples. He grabbed my collar. “Lucy, don’t forget the contract.” Oh right. I signed a three-year “Sugar Baby” contract with Liam. It said during the contract period, I couldn’t have intimate relationships with other men. There was still one week left on the contract. I looked down at the fifty million in the card, then looked up with newfound confidence. “Sorry, I’m breaching the contract.” Liam said, “Fine. The penalty is one hundred million.” I wilted instantly. “Sorry, I was wrong.” Chloe frowned slightly. She asked me, “What contract?” I stammered. Chloe narrowed her eyes. She pulled me behind her and questioned Liam. “Mr. Liam, rumors in the circle say you’re keeping my sister as a mistress?” Liam answered, “I am not keeping her.” He frowned. “Who told you that?” Chloe sneered. “Everyone says so.” She asked, “Then what is this contract you just mentioned?” I whispered, “Sugar Baby contract.” Liam answered, “Dating contract.” Me: “?!!” Liam: “……?” Chapter 3 I was shocked!! Liam paused too. After processing, his face darkened. “Sugar Baby contract? Who told you that?” I looked at him with question marks all over my face. “Didn’t you pay me for three years?” Liam rubbed his temples again. “No… I wasn’t keeping you. That was a dating contract.” Chloe frowned. “Who signs a contract to date?” Liam: “I thought signing a contract showed how seriously I took the relationship.” I hesitated. “Your ‘seriousness’ involves wiring me fifty grand a month and then sleeping with me?” Liam: “……” Liam’s expression was complicated. He looked like he wanted to explain but didn’t know how. Chloe looked at Liam with scrutiny. “Mr. Liam, soliciting prostitution is illegal. Technically, that contract is void. If you insist, I’ll have to call the police.” Liam sighed. “It wasn’t solicitation. The fifty grand was for dating expenses.” He said, “…I thought sexual activity during dating was normal, so I didn’t overthink it.” “I apologize. I wasn’t thoughtful enough and caused a misunderstanding. I’m sorry. Such things should wait until marriage.” The hospital hallway wasn’t the place for this. Chloe clicked her heels and said to me, “You decide.” I whispered, “Um, since it’s a dating contract, can I take a week off?” The contract ended in a week. If I took leave now, I could segue seamlessly into clubbing with male models the moment it expired. Liam pursed his lips. “You may.” After Liam agreed, I left the hospital with Chloe and got into her luxury car to go see my foster mom. Driving, Chloe said, “I think… Liam isn’t trustworthy. He’s not a good guy. Don’t contact him anymore.” Who believes a “Dating Contract”? Not even a dog would believe that! I felt a bit guilty. “Actually, I think he’s a good person.” Chloe raised an eyebrow. “How so?” Me: “When my mom was sick and we had no money, he paid the medical bills. Without him, my mom wouldn’t have made it.” Chloe: “So he kept you…” I touched my nose, embarrassed. “Because he paid the bills, I didn’t refuse when he wanted to keep me.” I believe in repaying debts of gratitude. Chloe thought for a moment. “When the contract ends, I’ll give you money to keep him back.” I thought for a moment too. “Sis, is there a possibility… he likes you?” Liam’s Dream Girl was my sister, and I was just the stand-in. Me keeping him felt like some weird cuckold fetish. Chloe slammed on the brakes. My forehead hit the dashboard. Ouch. Chloe looked horrified. “Impossible! Absolutely impossible! You’re mistaken.” Me: “He really likes you.” She hesitated. “I hooked up with his uncle and almost became his aunt. He shouldn’t… be that kinky, right?” My pupils quaked. I trembled, “Sis… you…” Chloe evaluated calmly, “If he really has feelings for me, he’s a pervert.” I hesitated. “Maybe he is a pervert?” Chloe gasped. “Stay away from perverts!” The car started moving again. Chloe thought for a long time, then said spookily: “Actually, I think… maybe that contract really was a dating contract…” I said spookily back: “Impossible, sis. Absolutely impossible!” Silence fell in the car. We looked at each other, speechless. Chloe hesitated. “But still, maybe… he has you in his heart?” Me: “Maybe his heart split in two. One half loves you, the other half loves me.” Chloe: “Hiss!” Chapter 4 We arrived at my apartment. Chloe met my foster mom, politely called her “Mom,” and explained the DNA test. Chloe: “My grandma was superstitious and preferred boys. She thought twins were bad luck, so she stole my sister at birth and threw her away.” “I didn’t know she existed until Grandma was hospitalized six months ago and confessed in a delirious state.” She acknowledged my foster mom as her godmother. “You are Lucy’s mother, so you are my mother too. I will take care of you with Lucy.” My mom looked at Chloe’s face, identical to mine, and accepted this goddaughter. After handling that, Chloe took me to the main estate to meet my biological parents. Chloe comforted me: “Don’t be nervous. Mom and Dad are great.” My billionaire parents were exactly as Chloe said—great and very enthusiastic. Billionaire Dad: “I’m transferring 20% of the company shares to you. That new commercial plot downtown is yours too!” Billionaire Mom: “My precious daughter suffered so much. Mom is transferring eighty million to your card right now!” When they learned about Liam from the secretary’s report, Billionaire Dad was furious. “Him? He dares to keep you?!” “I’m arranging ten blind dates for you immediately. Dump him!” Billionaire Dad was a man of his word. The next day, I was forced to sit at a large round table in a cafe with ten handsome, tall, wealthy men.

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1 I was the orphanage’s most notorious glutton. I could pack away five bowls of rice in one sitting and had the strength of an ox. Nobody wanted to be my friend. Only Sophia would talk to me. One day, a wealthy couple came to the orphanage, planning to adopt Sophia. That’s when I suddenly saw the comments scrolling across my vision: [The female lead is finally getting adopted! Soon she’ll start her angsty romance with her adoptive brother, the male lead!] [On the surface, the male lead acts like he doesn’t care about her and lets her get bullied until she has no self-esteem, but later on, he patiently helps her heal. It’s so sweet!] [Plus, the male lead has an eating disorder, and our baby FL is the one who cures him! They’re a match made in heaven!] After reading that, I nudged Sophia aside. “Sir, ma’am, I’m a really good eater. Please adopt me instead.” After all, I was strong. If this kid acted up, I had plenty of ways to handle him. — I was the toughest kid at the orphanage. My reputation was built on three things: eating five bowls of rice per meal, having the strength of an ox that I used to wreck the place, and being so weird that no one would be my friend. Sophia was the exception. She was six when she arrived—quiet, sweet, and never fought with anyone over anything. She was the only one who would occasionally come over and say a few words to me. Unfortunately, today she was being adopted. It was her turn, and word was the family was incredibly wealthy. Just as she was about to follow the matron out the door, I grabbed her hand. “You can’t go!” Sophia jumped, looking at me with wide, confused eyes. The matron thought I was just sad to see her go and tried to soothe me. “Lynn, Sophia is going to a better place. She might even come back to visit someday. Can you let her go now?” It wasn’t a better place. I was eight, and I could read just fine. I understood exactly what those comments meant. They said Sophia would be bullied and her spirit would be crushed. I spoke slowly. “Ma’am, let me go instead. This orphanage is so poor. If you don’t send me away soon, you’ll go broke trying to feed me.” The matron fell into an awkward silence. While all the staff secretly wanted me gone, fairness dictated they couldn’t just give the opportunity to me. So, she ended up taking both of us out to meet the couple. The couple looked just as rich as the comments described. Not only that, but standing behind them was a handsome, though incredibly smug-looking, little boy. [Ahhh, the first meeting between the ML and FL! The male lead actually saw her through the crack in the door earlier and is just pretending not to care, but his ears are totally red!] [Wait, I thought the FL was the one getting adopted. Who’s this random extra?] [Is she going to steal the spot from our baby FL? If she does, how is the angsty romance supposed to happen?!] The comments were in an uproar. Sophia looked at the people in front of her and offered a polite greeting. “Hello, sir and ma’am. Hello, big brother.” “Who’s your brother?!” Caleb Thorne’s face immediately soured. His perfect little features were twisted with disdain. His shout made Sophia’s eyes well up. She clutched her sleeves, about to shrink back, when I pushed my way in front of her, blocking her completely. “Hello, sir and ma’am. Hello, little bro.” “You! Who are you calling little bro?!” Caleb thought I was deliberately trying to embarrass him and instantly fumed. I gave him an innocent look. “I’m eight years old. Am I older than you? Ma’am, does that make me the big sister?” People have a fatal flaw: they judge by appearances. No one looking at my soft, sweet face would ever guess I was a notorious glutton with a mean streak. The wealthy woman’s hand came to rest gently on my head. “Caleb is only seven. So yes, that does make you the big sister.” She wanted a daughter primarily as a companion for her son. An older sister who could look out for him seemed much more suitable than a younger one who needed looking after. Seeing me already chatting with his mother, Caleb started to panic. “Mom! I want to go home! Now!” “Be good, Caleb. We’ll go home as soon as Mommy finishes the paperwork.” Hearing this only made him throw a bigger fit. Remembering the comments, I deliberately provoked him. “You don’t want me? Is it because you want Sophia? You like her, don’t you?” For a boy his age, there was nothing more horrifying than being accused of liking a girl. He puffed up like an angry cat whose tail had been stepped on. “Who said I like her? I can’t stand the sight of her!” My smile became even more sincere. “Ma’am, please take me with you. Since my little brother doesn’t like her, you have to choose me. Besides, he looks so skinny. I love to eat, and I can definitely help him get his appetite back!” My words seemed to amuse the man, who had been silent until now. He bent down, patted my head, and took my hand. The comments instantly exploded, and a chorus of curses rained down on me. 2 The adoption paperwork was processed quickly. When I went back to pack my things, Sophia was watching me with a crestfallen expression. [I hate this extra so much, can she just die?! Look how sad our baby FL is!] [Now that the FL hasn’t been adopted, how will she ever develop a relationship with the ML?!] “Lynn, will… will you come back and visit me?” Sophia asked timidly. I pulled her close and whispered conspiratorially, handing her a small whistle. “Under the fifteenth bar of the playground fence, I left something for you. If you hear me whistle for you at night, whistle back.” “Huh?” She stared at the whistle, completely baffled. But the director was already there to get me. In the car, Caleb’s face was darker than the bottom of a pot. If you looked closely, you could see tear tracks on his cheeks. I ignored him, clambered into the seat beside him, taking up a huge amount of space, and immediately started laying on the charm. “Sir, ma’am, this car is so comfortable! It’s the nicest car I’ve ever been in!” “What a sweet child,” the woman said, her eyes filled with a mix of pity and affection. “Look at these little arms, you’re so thin. When we get home, I’ll have the cook make you something delicious, okay?” I let her squeeze my arm, my eyes darting toward Caleb. His face was beet red. He was unhappy! And for the first time, his parents weren’t comforting him! The little prince felt his world crumbling. He bit his lip, overwhelmed with a sense of injustice. The moment we arrived home, he slammed the car door open and bolted out of the car. I ambled after him and, as I stepped through the front door, casually ordered, “Hey, little bro. Find me some slippers.” “You’re telling me to find you slippers?” Caleb’s eyes widened. He was a pampered young master. Forget fetching things for others; he’d never even put on his own shoes before he was five! And now he was supposed to wait on someone? “Get out! This is my house!” he seethed, suddenly shoving me. “Caleb!” “Stop it!” Two panicked voices, one male and one female, cried out at the same time. “Lynn, are you okay?” I had been standing right at the top of the stairs. Though his father caught me just in time, he was still shaken. Caleb stood frozen, his hands clenched into fists, his eyes red. “I don’t want a sister! I don’t want her in my house!” “Caleb Thorne!” His father’s voice was low and firm, and Caleb immediately flinched. “Apologize!” The command was absolute. Caleb pressed his lips together so tightly they turned white. The comments were filled with sympathy. [The ML is a young master! He can’t wait on people. I bet this Lynn girl did it on purpose!] [She’s just trying to provoke our baby ML. Ugh, she’s so manipulative. I hate her.] I snuggled into his mother’s arms and said sweetly, “It’s my fault. I just asked my little brother to find me some slippers. At the orphanage, the first kid inside always helps the next one. I didn’t know he’d get so mad.” My reasonableness only highlighted Caleb’s spoiled behavior. His father’s tone grew colder. “Do I need to repeat myself? Apologize.” Caleb bit his lip so hard it looked like it might bleed. Tears welled in his eyes, but he stubbornly held them back. “Sorry!” As if he had suffered the greatest humiliation of his life, he couldn’t hold it in any longer. He turned and ran into the house. “That child…” his mother murmured, a hint of worry in her voice. But her main focus was on getting me settled. With a sigh, she let it go. Caleb really was too spoiled. He was like this at home, and he had no friends at school either—always a loner. Hopefully, things would change. They led me through the house, one on each side, and my bell-like laughter echoed through the villa. “Ma’am, this garden is huge! And there’s a swing!” “Wow, sir, are these your goldfish?” They held my hands as if we were a real family of three. Caleb watched from his bedroom window, practically seething with rage. A moment later, I knocked on his door. “Little bro, time for dinner.” 3 Caleb wanted nothing to do with me. The words “I hate you” were practically written on his face. But I didn’t care. Instead, I leaned over the dinner table and whispered devilishly again. “Pour me some juice.” His father had left halfway through dinner for a work call, and his mother was on the phone, leaving just the two of us at the table. He snorted. “Why should I?” “Alright, let’s play a game. If I win, you have to call me ‘big sister’ from now on. If I lose, I’ll go back to the orphanage tomorrow. How about it?” Caleb’s eyes lit up instantly. The comments cheered. [Lynn is digging her own grave! Our ML is a certified genius. Even at seven, he’s way smarter than a normal kid!] [He won a math Olympiad at such a young age, so cool! Hmph, I can’t wait to see Lynn crawl back to the orphanage tomorrow!] Caleb puffed out his small chest, full of confidence. “Fine. What’s the contest?” “Why don’t you choose?” He was proud. My offer immediately triggered his rebellious streak. “You choose! I don’t want you saying I bullied you just to kick you out!” “Then I won’t be polite!” That was exactly what I was waiting for! I pointed a mischievous finger at the dishes on the table. “We’ll see who can finish a plate of food first. Since I suggested the game, you can have the first pick.” Caleb’s face grew serious. He quickly snatched the plate with the least amount of food on it. It was a plate of broccoli. Normally he barely touched the stuff, but the other dishes had too much. The meat would require chewing. He was smart, alright, choosing the one he could finish the fastest. “Your turn!” he declared, certain of his victory. He had carefully surveyed the remaining plates. All of them were piled high, especially the braised pork belly… I reached out and decisively pulled the braised pork belly toward me. “Start!”

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When I was six years old, my parents had my little brother. Crouched in a corner, I saw him get swapped with another baby with my own eyes. I silently switched them back and told no one. Eighteen years later, a boy in ragged clothes and faded jeans ran up to my parents, crying his heart out. “Mom, Dad, you’ve been loving the wrong person! I’m your real son!” 1 When I returned home after closing a hundred-million-dollar deal, the atmosphere was weird. My parents sat silently on the couch. I instinctively looked for my brother, Liam. He wasn’t there. Probably still at school. Upon seeing me, my parents’ grim expressions relaxed a little. “Asher, you’re finally home! Something huge has happened.” Mom hugged me, eyes red. My heart skipped a beat. “What is it?” Dad hesitated before speaking. “Asher, Liam… might not be my son.” I looked at Mom in shock. “What nonsense! Liam isn’t my son either!” Mom looked furious. I narrowed my eyes. “Alright, who’s the idiot spreading rumors that Liam isn’t your kid?” My parents started explaining what happened while I was out closing the deal. It was simple. Just after I left, a boy in shabby, washed-out clothes ran up to my parents. He cried as if his heart was breaking. “Mom, Dad, you’ve been loving the wrong person! That Liam is a fake! His biological father switched us at birth!” Because of this, my parents had been distressed all day. I understood. “So, you believed him? You guys are so gullible. Here, transfer me a hundred million first, let me see just how easy you are to fool.” My parents glared at me and started explaining why they believed him. “You don’t know, he knew Liam’s birth date perfectly, even the attending doctor’s name. He knew everything in detail.” My expression didn’t change. “So what? Lots of people knew that back then.” “And!” Mom paused, then continued, “Remember your grandma’s family heirloom jade bracelet? He has it.” “When Liam was born, your grandma was still alive. She adored him and insisted on tucking that bracelet into his swaddling clothes, saying it was for his future wife.” Dad nodded. “Right. But later, when your grandma remembered the bracelet, she couldn’t find it anywhere. She searched until the day she died and never found it. She regretted it so much.” Their words reminded me of something. When Liam was born, I was six. The nanny took me to the hospital and pointed at Liam, saying this was the new brother Mom and Dad gave me. I liked him a lot and stared at him for a long time. Dad had to go back to the office for something urgent, and Mom fell asleep from exhaustion. The nanny took a call and left in a hurry. I was sleepy too and dozed off in the corner behind the curtain. When I woke up, I saw a man sneaking in. He placed the baby in his arms into my brother’s crib and took my brother away. I rushed out and saw the man enter a room at the end of the hall. I didn’t leave. I waited until the man and a haggard woman in a hospital gown went to a corner to talk. Avoiding their line of sight, I snuck in from their blind spot and switched the babies back. I never told anyone. It happened so long ago that I sometimes thought it was a dream. It felt unreal. I gathered my thoughts. So now, someone has shown up with the jade bracelet Grandma gave Liam to claim his parents? Leaving aside whether the dream was real or not. If it was real, Liam is my brother, the brother I protected with my own hands. If it wasn’t, even better. That means my brother was never switched. I snapped back to reality and looked at my parents. “So, how did you settle him?” Mom pursed her lips, looking a bit guilty. “Remember that villa not far from our house?” “Excuse me?” I couldn’t believe my ears. “You not only gave him a house but one near us? Are you guys okay?” 2 Mom bit her lip. “He’s had a hard life all these years!” I scoffed. “What? Planning to acknowledge him already? Did you do a DNA test?” Silence. “If the test comes back positive…” Dad stopped mid-sentence, his voice choking up. I understood. They were afraid. Afraid it was all true. Afraid their biological son had suffered for eighteen years, and afraid Liam really wasn’t their son. “You must do a DNA test!” I said firmly. “Find time to meet him, collect whatever samples you need, and do it yourselves.” “As for Liam…” I paused. “Keep it from him for now.” Otherwise, he’d be heartbroken. My parents agreed. Whether Liam was their biological son or not, eighteen years of love couldn’t be faked. With a plan in place, my parents were still anxious. “Asher, if, just if, this is true, what about Liam…” I looked up at them seriously. “Then call the police, confess whatever needs confessing. As for the two victims, you figure out the other one. Liam stays with me. I’ll take care of him. Besides, he just turned eighteen. He doesn’t need you anyway.” My parents mumbled something but didn’t speak. Just when I thought we’d get results soon, something happened at Liam’s school. Liam got into a fight. I was surprised. In my memory, Liam was gentle and never got angry with anyone. When I rushed to the school, Liam’s fists were still clenched, his eyes red with rage. My heart skipped a beat, terrified he was hurt. “Liam, are you okay? Are you hurt?” I checked him two or three times, confirming he was fine before relaxing. Liam started complaining the moment he saw me. “Bro, your fiancée, Chloe, that shameless woman is hooking up with another guy!” Chloe Jiang, daughter of the Jiang family. My fiancée by arranged marriage. We didn’t have deep feelings for each other. I agreed to the arrangement only because my first impression of her was decent. Hearing this, I looked at Chloe, whose nose was bruised. “What happened?” Standing next to Chloe was a boy about Liam’s age, wearing clothes washed white with age. They stood close, clearly more than just friends. “Asher, your brother is crazy! Hitting a woman? Is he even a man?” Chloe was furious. “And Matt and I are just friends! Why is he freaking out?” Liam’s fist clenched again, ready to swing. “Stop pretending! I saw you sneak a kiss! Shameless!” I quickly grabbed Liam and looked at the boy next to Chloe. “This is…” His clothes didn’t look like they came from high society, nor did his mannerisms suggest a wealthy upbringing. I had never seen him at any banquet either. Must be a commoner. So how did the Jiang family princess know him? A flash of guilt crossed Chloe’s face. “He… he’s just a friend. We go to the same school, met by coincidence.” Before I could speak, Liam exploded. “Keep pretending! Your lips were practically on his face! I didn’t know the Jiang family had such upbringing. I’m going to ask Uncle and Auntie Jiang about this!” Liam never let me be wronged. He didn’t know our engagement was purely business; he thought I really liked Chloe. Now Liam was all thorns, wanting to prick Chloe to death. The teacher arrived and started discussing a solution. Before I could voice my opinion, Chloe spoke coldly. “If you want to resolve this, fine. Liam hit me, he must apologize!” 3 My gaze fell on Chloe. She seemed exceptionally bold today. “Don’t you know why Liam hit you? You want him to apologize? Where’s your shame?” Chloe’s face turned green then white. Before she could speak, the boy beside her spoke up. “Brother, you misunderstood. Chloe and I are really just friends.” The moment he opened his mouth, the smell of “green tea” (manipulative innocence) overflowed. “Are you shameless? Clucking like a hen? Are you laying an egg? A grown man acting like a green tea bitch!” Chloe frowned and suddenly jumped out, furious. “Asher, enough! Matt is your biological brother! Do you have to humiliate him like this? Let me tell you the truth! The brother you’re protecting so carefully is the fake!” I narrowed my eyes, confirming my suspicions. Before I spoke, Liam exploded again. “Are you psychos? Who the hell isn’t my brother’s brother? Do you have no shame? Haven’t had a brother in eight hundred lifetimes so you come to steal mine?” I didn’t speak, seemingly defaulting to Liam’s words. The next second, Matt’s eyes turned red. Coupled with his decent looks, it was quite striking. Giving off the vibe of someone who suffered a massive grievance. I frowned. Then I heard Chloe’s furious voice again. “Liam, let me tell you the truth. You aren’t a child of the Lin family. You were switched by your biological father! Matt is the real Lin family son!” Matt. That was indeed the name of the boy my parents mentioned. Strange. When did Matt get involved with Chloe? And how much of Chloe’s hand was in this mess? While I was thinking, the murmurs around us pulled me back. Headache. I planned to suppress the news. Now not only did Liam know, but the whole world was about to know. This couldn’t be kept secret anymore. Liam didn’t believe it at first, until Chloe pointed the spear at me. “He’s so capable, he definitely knows. Ask him if you don’t believe me.” Liam looked at me. “Bro, is what she said… true?” I didn’t know what to say to Liam in that moment. Seeing I didn’t answer immediately, Liam understood. His face went pale. I understood. Anyone would panic in this situation. But I would never abandon my brother. 4 The world went silent for a moment, a silence that made Matt uncomfortable. “Brother, Chloe and I really are just friends. We got close because she helped me meet Mom and Dad, giving me a chance to reclaim my identity.” I didn’t speak, just pondered. I wondered how a poor kid like Matt got into my parents’ high-end villa community. Turns out it was Chloe’s doing. Matt didn’t stare at me constantly, but his gaze drifted to Liam now and then. I clearly caught the jealousy in his eyes. I didn’t call him out, just warned him. “Mom and Dad said they’re doing a DNA test tomorrow. They should have told you. Be there on time.” “As for your identity, don’t say anything to me until the results are out. And don’t call me brother.” I pulled Liam behind me and looked at Chloe. “Miss Jiang, I hope one day I can meddle in the Jiang family’s business too.” Implying she was meddling. Chloe exploded instantly, furious. “I was kind enough to help the Lin family, afraid you’d be scammed by a fake, and you’re ungrateful? You don’t know what’s good for you!” “And Matt! Matt is your real brother, yet you only care about a fake. Ridiculous!” Impatience showed in my eyes. “That’s none of your business either!” I didn’t want to tangle with them anymore. I dragged Liam home.

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I finally had a day off and was trying to sleep in, but my phone was blowing up with spam calls. “You finally picked up… it wasn’t easy finding you…” My morning grumpiness took over. I grabbed the phone and yelled: “Find your mother, you scammer!” “Don’t let me catch you, or I swear I’ll kill you!” A minute later, my doorbell rang. From outside, the same voice I heard on the phone echoed through the door. “Open the door. It wasn’t easy finding you…” 1 I didn’t dare breathe. I tiptoed to the peephole. But when I pressed my eye against it, I saw no one in the hallway. Did I hear it wrong? Just as I was thinking that, the doorbell rang again. Ding-dong, ding-dong—ding-ding-ding-dong!!!! The ringing got faster and faster, but I still couldn’t see a soul. Was he hiding in the blind spot? I was about to call the police when my phone rang at the worst possible moment. It was that scam number again. My head throbbed. I blocked it immediately. But less than a second later, a new, unfamiliar number called. The structure was similar to the last one, just the last digit was different. I blocked it again. Then another new number. Block. Another new number… Like the doorbell, it rang almost without pause. I couldn’t take it anymore. I picked up. Before I could start cursing, a man’s arrogant laughter came from the other end: “Heh heh heh… didn’t you say you wanted me dead? Why aren’t you opening the door now that I’m here?” I froze, slowly turning my head toward the door. The doorbell rang even faster, urging me, and the man’s voice on the phone came through the door simultaneously: “Open up… weren’t you going to kill me? Come on, open the door…” 2 I called the police. But there were no cameras in the hallway. Checking the surveillance at the complex entrance and the elevator yielded nothing. Later, they examined my smart lock and suspected the system had been hacked. “You mean, there was no one at my door just now? It was just that guy making sounds through the hacked system?” “But how did he know where I live?” The older officer frowned, fiddling with the lock. “Since these scammers can get your number, finding your personal info isn’t hard.” “Then arrest him!” The officer stared at me for a moment, then shook his head ruthlessly. “Sorry, the other party hasn’t taken any substantial action yet. We can’t file a case.” I was on the verge of tears. “He already knows where I live and hacked my security system! That’s not substantial action?!” “Does he have to break in and kill me for it to count?” Seeing the awkward atmosphere, the younger officer tried to comfort me. “Don’t worry, our colleagues will keep a close watch on your place for the next few days to ensure your safety.” “Don’t be too nervous. The scammer might not even be local. He probably just wanted to scare you because you cursed him out.” I stayed silent. I knew police procedures, and I wanted to be a good citizen. But what just happened was terrifying. What if it happens again? As a single woman living alone in a strange city, I was genuinely scared. What if the scammer is local? What if I provoked him and he breaks in for revenge? Seeing my concern, the older officer handed me a card. “Ms. Parker, call me anytime if anything happens. I’ll come immediately.” I looked down. The card read “Detective Lee,” with a phone number below. Better than nothing. I sighed and took the card. As Detective Lee was leaving, I asked uneasily, “What if he harasses me through the doorbell system again?” “Record it and call me,” Lee said simply. Suddenly, the younger officer who had already stepped out gasped, tugging at Lee’s sleeve. “Sir, come look at this!” Lee stepped out. As soon as his eyes hit the wall outside my apartment, his face went rigid. “What is it?” I chased after them. My photos were plastered all over the wall. Me leaving the complex, me squeezing into the subway, me entering my office… All taken from various angles, secretly! Some photos had an unknown red liquid on the corners. I hid behind Lee. “W-what is this?!” Lee didn’t speak. He just closed the security door. A nauseating smell of blood hit us. On the door covered in photos, a giant word was written in crimson— DIE! 3 The blood was still slowly dripping down the strokes of the word. “He hasn’t gone far!” Lee shouted as he ran downstairs. “Call for backup!” An hour later, a group of officers was photographing and examining my door. They concluded the blood was animal blood. But that wasn’t comforting because Lee hadn’t caught the guy who posted the photos. The culprit was cautious, wearing a helmet. Even within camera range, his face was obscured. Fortunately, this incident was severe enough for the police to open a case. Lee was frustrated. “There were no photos when we arrived. In less than half an hour, and I didn’t hear a thing!” Back at the station, he emphasized repeatedly: “I’ll have tech support try to trace the virtual number.” “Until then, lock your doors and windows. Contact me immediately if anything feels off.” “Remember, do not act on your own!” After they left, I felt dazed. Just a couple of angry sentences from morning grumpiness led to such severe consequences? If I hadn’t cursed at the scammer, if I had just politely declined… would none of this have happened? Living alone with few friends here, I always lived by the principle of keeping the peace. Usually, I’d swallow any grievance. Why did I have to snap this one time? Lost in thought, I arrived at my door. The police had removed the photos, leaving only the slightly coagulated word “DIE.” I wiped away tears circling in my eyes, went inside, and filled a basin with water. When I came back out, the building security guard, Old Wang, was already scrubbing the blood off my door with cleaning supplies. Seeing me, his eyes were full of concern. “Miss Parker, scared you bad, didn’t it?” The police presence was huge; the whole complex knew about my situation. “Management sent me to see if I could help.” Old Wang was always the most helpful guy in the property management team. “Thanks, Mr. Wang. I’ll do it myself. Sorry for the trouble.” But Old Wang insisted on helping. In the tug-of-war, he dropped his rag. His hand grabbed mine without hesitation. Startled, I pulled away quickly. “Sorry, Miss. See? Concern makes for chaos.” Though he said that, his eyes stared hotly at the hand that had touched mine, completely forgetting the rag on the floor. Suddenly, the elevator dinged. My ex-boyfriend, Chris, and my boss, Mr. Zhao, walked out simultaneously. “Riley, heard you were harassed. Are you okay?” “Riley, the company heard what happened. Are you hurt?” 4 Both were surprised by their simultaneous greeting. They looked at each other, then asked me in unison: “Who is he?” After a brief introduction, I noticed Old Wang’s face darken. Without a word, he picked up the rag and continued scrubbing the blood. Chris’s concerned gaze turned cold when he saw Mr. Zhao. “Riley, when did your company hire new people? Why didn’t I know?” Mr. Zhao smiled, but his eyes were humorless. “It’s normal. Since you’re the ex-boyfriend, Riley doesn’t need to report everything to you.” Mr. Zhao emphasized “ex-boyfriend.” Chris’s face looked like he had eaten a thousand maggots. My head hurt. I didn’t have energy to host. So I issued an eviction order. “I’m fine, just didn’t sleep well. Don’t worry.” Saying that, I snatched the rag from Old Wang, rinsed it in the basin, turning the clear water blood-red. Mr. Zhao noticed a spot of blood on my hand. He took out a tissue and gently wiped it for me, his voice soft. “It’s unsafe for you to live alone. I happen to need a roommate. Move in with me.” The air seemed to freeze. Old Wang and Chris stared intently at my hand being held. Mr. Zhao put the bloody tissue in his pocket. Chris grabbed him, voice cold: “Why are you keeping Riley’s blood? Do you have some fetish?” “Security guard, right? Call the cops, arrest this pervert!” I was shocked by Mr. Zhao’s action too, staring at him blankly. Mr. Zhao replied calmly: “There’s no trash can here. I’m keeping the used tissue to throw away downstairs. Is there a problem?” Chris was speechless. Old Wang took over as if to diffuse the tension. “Give me the trash. I take out the trash for this whole floor.” Just then, my phone rang. It was Detective Lee. “Hello, Detective Lee. Any results?” To avoid unnecessary worry from Chris and the others, I went inside to take the call. On the other end, Lee’s voice was urgent. “Riley, tech support just told me they traced the location of that virtual scam number!” I perked up immediately. “Where is that guy?” Lee didn’t answer directly. “Is it convenient for you to talk?” I was confused. “Yes, why?” Lee said: “According to the trace, that guy is less than 10 meters away from you!” Shocked, I turned around instantly, involuntarily stepping back two steps. Those three men were standing at the door. Three pairs of pitch-black eyes stared at me like slimy snakes wrapped around my body.

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After Rebirth, the second time my husband’s consigliere—the woman who would eventually replace me—slid a leather leash around my neck while I slept, I didn’t reach for the gun beneath the pillow. I didn’t scream, didn’t shatter the crystal, didn’t lose control and threaten to burn the estate down, the way I had the last time when Dante defended Zara Bellwether in front of the entire family. Instead, I gave Dante a brittle, empty smile. “She has nerve. You two enjoy the game.” I let the words hang there, heavy and final. “Consider our ten-year anniversary party cancelled. I’ll be leaving now.” I pulled on the trench coat draped over the foot of the bed and walked out of the estate without a second glance. I couldn’t afford to be the old me. The fallout from my past rebellion against Dante Rossi had been a cold, surgical execution. He hadn’t just divorced me; he’d erased me. Every account was frozen overnight. The best under-the-table lawyer in the city only secured a settlement check for $50.00—a final, deliberate insult. Just outside his territory, I was diagnosed with late-stage glandular cancer. When the pain became a white-hot, constant agony, I abandoned every shred of dignity I had left and crawled back to the gates of Dante’s estate. He let Zara grind the heel of her stiletto into my hand while I lay freezing on the gravel, and didn’t send a single guard to let me in. I was broke, alone, and I died of exposure right outside the iron gates of the home I had spent ten years nurturing. Pride is a luxury for the living. What I didn’t expect was for Dante to follow me. He stopped me at the end of the long portico. “Listen to me, Anya. Zara is young, careless. It was a stupid joke with a leash.” “She has no malice. Her father and mine were blood brothers. She grew up here, always getting away with things. You’re my wife, damn it. Rise above it.” He’d said those exact words the last time. Then, I was already shaking with rage after Zara had intentionally burned me with the family-crested lighter—a symbol of my own fading power. Hearing Dante’s placid defense, I’d shattered. I fired three shots into the marble floor at his feet, yelled, “We are done, forever!” and fled the estate in a storm of fury. I was a fool. I thought breaking him would break the Capo. But I walked through the winter rain for hours in a flimsy coat, my high heels slicing the skin on my ankles, until I collapsed with a fever. As I lay dying in the safe-house apartment, Dante didn’t send a search party. That night, he took Zara to Monte Carlo. The next morning, the pictures were all over the family’s private network: him adjusting the small-of-her-back holster, her standing on tiptoes to kiss his cheek. It was too much. A cold, bitter laugh escaped me. The next second, Dante gripped my wrist, his voice tight. “How many times do I have to explain this? Zara is my godfather’s daughter. I am responsible for her. It’s a damn scratch, put some cream on it.” His voice hardened. “Can you stop this pathetic speculation? This petty, baseless jealousy?” The sudden, chilling rage in his eyes made my chest ache. It wasn’t for him. It was for the girl I used to be. That girl, in her last life, suffered the most excruciating form of cancer. She cried and begged to die early. When she ran out of money, she once pressed a utility knife into her rail-thin arm just to shock herself unconscious and escape the pain for a moment. Yet, she couldn’t bring herself to sell the wedding band he’d given her—the one set with a black diamond, engraved with the family crest. A month before the end, she dragged her wasted body back to him. He had promised her forever, kneeling in a pool of her parents’ blood after their assassination. But when she knelt outside his estate, begging the guard on the intercom to send a message, Dante’s voice came back cold and final: “Anya, you chose to leave. Leaving means there are no ties left. Don’t contact me again.” The line went dead. I collapsed at the iron gates. In my last moments, I watched him and Zara kissing in the rose garden I had personally curated, drinking wine from the crystal stemware I had chosen. The memory was a physical chokehold. I choked it down, regaining my composure. “Dante, I’m not jealous, and I’m not angry with Zara.” “I’m just tired. I’m going home. Go back to your party.” A flicker of genuine shock crossed his face. I didn’t look back. I walked away, found a cab, and retreated to the safe-house apartment downtown. I bolted the door. The first thing I did was call a private medical center. I scheduled a full diagnostic screening for the morning. This life, I only wanted to live. As soon as I hung up, Dante walked back in. He tore off his tie, his brow furrowed with familiar impatience. “What was that stunt in the hallway? Anya, stop sulking.” Ever since Zara became his executive assistant, Dante had grown progressively colder and more critical. His dramatic shift, coupled with Zara’s constant needling, was what had driven the former me to constantly escalate and lose control. I swallowed the tight, aching knot in my chest. “Believe me or not, I’m not angry, I’m not sulking, and I’m not throwing a fit.” “Look.” I held up my hand. “The scratch is already disinfected. I truly am not holding a grudge against you. And I certainly wouldn’t dare cross Zara.” I retreated to the bathroom and locked the door. When I came out, Dante was gone. My encrypted burner phone was flashing relentlessly. It was Zara’s ritual: any time she was with Dante, she’d flood my inbox with real-time photos. She was using me as her cloud album. In the past, these images would send me into hysterical fits or on a raging charge back to the estate. Now, I looked at the new photos. I didn’t curse her. Instead, I sent a thoughtful reply: “Shooting angle is all wrong, Dante’s profile is better from above. Try holding the phone higher next time.” “Also, too much negative space in the frame. Doesn’t read as intimate enough.” Zara fired back instantly: “Did your account get hacked?” I sent a smiley face emoji. “Nope. Just letting you know he’s all yours now.” Then, I blocked her. This triangle dynamic suits me: I want the Capo’s wife title and the limitless black card; Dante’s body and heart? Zara can have them. Unlike the fool I was, I just want to survive. After dispatching Zara, I lay down to sleep. But even with a second chance, sleep eluded me. I was still plagued by the ghosts of the past, just like when I was sick in the last life. When we were kids, Dante, solitary and sharp-edged, faced the brutal discipline of the previous Capo—his father. I would sometimes wake up long after midnight and hear the crack of a steel whip from the training grounds—a penalty for failing a drill. Living across the yard, I felt sorry for him. I used to sneak out and slip a piece of candy—a salted caramel—into the pocket of the jacket he left hanging by his door, along with a tiny note: “When it hurts, eat one.” The first time I did it, he cornered me, his ears bright red. “…I don’t like sweets.” I only laughed, waving my hand dismissively. “Dante, you should talk more. You have a good voice.” It became our ritual. The boy who walked alone began to wait for me, began to expect the warmth of the caramel in his pocket. We walked that dark alley in our neighborhood together for countless nights. When he was eighteen, just before he was sent to a closed academy in Switzerland as the heir apparent, he found me and pressed a card into my hand. “I checked the security level of this art college. It’s high, and it’s not far from my academy. Your grades are weak for undergrad, but you could try the pre-program.” I never told him my parents could have afforded any art school in the world. Instead, I secretly changed my plans and applied to the school closest to his. I took my father’s predictable fury without regret. Soon, we were in the same city. Freed from his father’s direct supervision, Dante was transformed: the thick glasses were gone, replaced by contacts; his hair was clipped short; he wore custom suits; he even taught himself Chopin. I never knew why, until one night, as I cheered in my studio for an upcoming exhibit, he grabbed my wrist, his eyes burning. “I’ve become everything you wanted. Can’t you finally just look at me?” The word ‘wanted’ hit me like a bullet. Even across campuses, his legend was growing: purging a family traitor at sixteen, taking over half the business by eighteen, and generally acknowledged as the next Capo by twenty. Countless women documented his “glow-up” in private forums. I thought a world of blood separated us, yet he was confessing his feelings. The always-reckless me kissed him on tiptoes without a second thought. Later, we were a couple. I spent my days researching how to brew his coffee, choose his cufflinks, and select his records. My life had no plan, only him. Dante’s life, however, kept soaring: he consolidated power, eliminated rivals, and was crowned Capo at twenty-three. The contrast with my own life was a cruel joke. I gave up my sketchbook for a life of selecting his cufflinks, choosing his wine, and planning his menus. My only self-worth was in being his appendage. Even the parents who loved me most were killed by rivals in a car bombing on the way to see my first solo show. As an orphan, I wept over their few remaining possessions until I passed out. Dante knelt before their wake, in defiance of his father’s icy glare, and swore he would protect and care for me for the rest of my life. We married. I had multiple miscarriages, and my health failed. Then Dante met Zara. He began to find me empty. All I ever asked was what he wanted to eat, or what he wanted to wear. Unlike Zara, who could talk to him about arms deals, territory mapping, and accompany him into any blood-soaked negotiation. My eyes were stinging. I opened them. Morning light filtered through the window. The pillow was soaked with tears again. A text message from Dante came in: “Visiting my father at the sanitarium this afternoon.” I replied calmly: “I have an appointment today. I can’t make it.” His call came in instantly. “What appointment?” “Anya, I’ve told you—Zara and I are nothing. Why do you always choose to make a crisis out of a trifle?” Hearing him bring up Zara again felt farcical. Dante was notoriously a man of few words. This was the most he’d ever explained himself over any one thing. Was he trying to convince me he hadn’t fallen for her, or himself? Or was he easing his own guilt? My chest tightened, but I kept my tone flat. “Dante, I’m unwell. I have a full medical workup scheduled. I can’t go with you today.” “Besides, your father has a heart condition and has always disliked me. Isn’t it better if I don’t upset him? Didn’t he always say that only a woman of Zara’s pedigree was fit to stand beside you? Take her instead.” It was genuine advice. Dante exploded. “Anya, stop with the drama.” The line went dead. I heard the dial tone and let out a cold chuckle.

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To poach me, the rival CEO came knocking three times, offering a staggering one-million-dollar annual salary. I was tempted. I made the jump. But after my first month, the direct deposit hit my account. The text alert read: $2,000. When I confronted him, the CEO just shrugged it off. “It’s a probationary test. Show me your value. Don’t just chase the money.” I laughed and submitted my resignation on the spot. Three days later, his company’s entire system collapsed. Their stock value plummeted, erasing half a billion dollars overnight. 1 My phone buzzed on the desk. It was the direct deposit notification from the bank. I didn’t look at it right away. My fingers were still flying across the keyboard, typing out the final line of code. Enter. Compile. Run. A splash of green lit up my screen: SUCCESS. The foundational optimization of the entire central data platform was complete. Three days ahead of schedule. I took a sip of the now-stone-cold coffee beside me, the bitter liquid a stark contrast to the quiet hum of satisfaction for a first month’s work well done. Only then did I leisurely pick up my phone and unlock the screen. The notification sat there, silent and waiting. [Bank of America] A direct deposit of $2,000.00 was made to your checking account ending in XXXX on Sept 28, 5:31 PM. Your current balance is… My eyes locked onto the number: $2,000.00. My mind went blank, a sudden roar of static in my ears. I read it three times, making sure I wasn’t misplacing the decimal point. Two thousand dollars. Not eighty thousand, not even twenty. Two thousand. It was laughable. An amount that might just cover rent for a tiny studio in this city, yet right now, it felt like a slap in the face, sharp and stinging. The air in the open-plan office grew thin. The rhythmic clatter of keyboards and the low hum of my colleagues’ discussions blurred into a distant, muffled noise, as if heard through thick glass. Arthur Vance’s face, a mask of perfect sincerity, flashed in my mind. “Lynn, you’re not just a talent, you’re a force of nature!” “A million-dollar salary is just the beginning. Apex Dynamics needs a technical visionary like you to lead us.” “I promise you, here you will have absolute authority, complete creative freedom, and a reward that truly matches your worth.” He had visited me three times, his posture lower, his words more earnest with each meeting. The first time was at a coffee shop downstairs from my old company, where he painted a grand vision of Apex Dynamics’ future. The second was at an upscale restaurant with a private room. He dissected the creative bottlenecks I was facing at my current job and promised me a kingdom I could build from the ground up, my way. The third time, he showed up at the entrance of my apartment complex, holding a drafted contract. The night wind whipped at his expensive trench coat, but he didn’t seem to notice. He just held out the folder, the staggering figure on the paper catching the streetlight, his eyes burning with intensity. That sincerity had moved me. That million-dollar promise had certainly turned my head. But now, all of it had been reduced to a cold, four-digit number on my phone screen. A meticulously crafted, exceptionally cruel joke. The blood drained from my face, only to rush back, hot and furious, pounding in my temples. Rage threatened to incinerate my reason, yet my body remained unnervingly calm. I stood up. The wheels of my chair shrieked against the floor from the sudden movement, drawing a few startled glances from nearby coworkers. I ignored them and strode toward the CEO’s corner office at the end of the hall. The sharp click-clack of my heels on the polished marble floor echoed with each step, a hammer blow to my pride. I didn’t even bother to knock. I pushed the door open and walked in. Arthur Vance was leaning back in his enormous leather chair, leisurely sipping a cup of tea. He showed no surprise at my intrusion. He simply raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching into a smirk I couldn’t decipher. “Ah, Lynn. Have a seat,” he said, gesturing to the chair opposite him. His tone was as casual as if he were inviting a guest for afternoon tea. I didn’t sit. I stood before his massive desk, held up my phone so he could see the screen, and spoke, my voice devoid of emotion. “Mr. Vance, I’d like you to explain what this means.” His gaze flickered to my screen for a single second before he looked away, lifting his teacup to gently blow on the surface. “Oh, that,” he said dismissively. “It’s the company’s probationary test for you.” A test? I almost laughed out loud. “A probationary test for a million-dollar salary is a two-thousand-dollar paycheck?” A chill I hadn’t intended crept into my voice. “Now, now, young lady. Don’t be so focused on money,” Arthur said, setting his cup down. He leaned forward, steepling his fingers on the desk, adopting the posture of a wise mentor. “I admit, you’re a talent. But talent needs character, a willingness to be tempered. I need a partner who will stand with the company through thick and thin, not a mercenary who only cares about the next paycheck.” He looked at me, his eyes filled with a condescending, appraising glare. “This test was designed to sand down your sharp edges. I wanted to see how much value you could produce without the lure of a big salary. And I have to say, you did an excellent job this month. I’m very satisfied.” He was satisfied. I heard something inside my chest crack. So the grand gestures were fake. The heartfelt admiration was an act. And the promise, written in black and white, was nothing more than a disposable tool for his little “test.” He wasn’t hiring a lead engineer; he was trying to break a horse he thought was too wild. He’d dangled a million-dollar carrot to lure me into his stable, and now he was offering me a bucket of oats and telling me to learn my place. This wasn’t just about docking pay. This was a complete and utter humiliation. A wave of absurdity washed over me. I looked at this self-important man, at the smug, in-control expression on his face, and I started to laugh. It was a quiet sound that escaped my throat, but it was enough to make the smile on Arthur’s face freeze. He probably wasn’t used to people laughing after being “mentored” like this. “Mr. Vance,” I said, my voice terrifyingly calm. “You earn your own respect. Don’t expect me to give you any.” Without giving him another moment to react, I turned and walked over to the guest computer in the corner of his office. Right in front of him, I opened a browser and logged into my personal email. My fingers flew across the keyboard. I typed out the subject line with deliberate force: Resignation. No lengthy accusations, no emotional tirades. Just a few simple lines: Due to personal reasons, I am resigning my position, effective immediately. Signed, Lynn. Click. Send. The whole process took less than thirty seconds. When I was done, I closed the laptop and looked up at Arthur, who was now on his feet. His expression shifted from confusion to shock, then curdled into offended contempt. “Lynn, what do you think you’re doing? Throwing a tantrum?” His voice had turned cold. “Who do you think you are? An employee who’s been here one month, throwing a fit over a minor test?” “Let me tell you something,” he spat, waving his arm as if delivering a verdict. “The platform makes the person! Without Apex Dynamics, you’re nothing! There’s a line of people out there who would kill to be in your position!” “I’ll give you one chance to retract that email. Get out, cool down, and we can talk tomorrow.” I looked at him, truly looked at him, and saw nothing more than a small man posturing on a big stage. I didn’t say another word. I just gave him one last, cold, emotionless glance. Then I turned and walked out of that suffocating office without looking back. Behind me, I could hear Arthur’s enraged roar. I didn’t even break my stride. As I walked back to my desk, I could feel the atmosphere in the entire tech department shift. The air was thick with whispers, suppressed snickers, and unveiled, gloating stares. My phone vibrated. A coworker had added me to some gossip group chat. “LOL, you guys hear about the million-dollar ‘genius,’ Lynn? Heard her paycheck was only 2k. She totally lost it!” “For real? That’s hilarious. Did she really think the money was that easy to get?” “Classic gold digger getting a reality check. She doesn’t have the skills to back up that kind of salary.” “Vance is a genius for this move. A perfect way to put everyone in their place. No one’s gonna try to negotiate hard after this.” I stared at the malicious words, my face a mask of indifference. I left the group. Then I blocked them. This toxic place. I wouldn’t spend another second here. 2 I had barely sat down at my desk when the HR manager came clicking over in her high heels. She wore a practiced, plastic smile as she slapped a departure checklist on my desk. “Lynn, Mr. Vance said that since you insist on leaving, the company won’t stand in your way. Per company policy, you have one day to complete the full handover of your work.” One day? I scoffed internally. The data platform I was responsible for had over a hundred architectural diagrams alone. The associated databases and API documentation would make a stack taller than a person. Forget one day; even with a full week, a complete newcomer wouldn’t be able to make heads or tails of it. This was a deliberate, final twist of the knife. “Understood,” I replied coolly, not even bothering to look up. My composure seemed to irritate her, but she could only turn on her heel and leave in a huff. A few minutes later, the Director of Technology, Leo Price, approached with a younger man in tow. Leo was Arthur Vance’s right-hand man and had viewed me with suspicion and a veiled hostility from day one. “Lynn, this is Mark. He’ll be taking over your responsibilities,” Leo announced, his tone dripping with schadenfreude. The young man, Mark, looked like he was fresh out of college. His eyes held the cocksure arrogance of a kid who thought he knew everything. He glanced at my monitor and sniffed dismissively. “Don’t you worry, Lynn. I’m a fast learner. I’ll get it done.” I said nothing. I simply opened the core architectural diagram of the entire system. The star-chart, composed of thousands of nodes and tens of thousands of intersecting logic lines, spread across my 48-inch curved monitor like an impossibly complex and beautiful labyrinth. The color drained from Mark’s face. The cockiness vanished, replaced by a look of pure, slack-jawed bewilderment. “You… you built all this by yourself?” he stammered. I ignored him and began the handover. For me, the “handover” consisted of listing the server access accounts and database administrator passwords in a document. The bare essentials. As for the core design philosophy, the intricate logic embedded to handle ultra-high concurrency, the maintenance scripts that only I could ever comprehend… I didn’t mention a single word. It wasn’t my obligation. If you think I’m only worth two thousand dollars, then you’ll get a two-thousand-dollar handover. Leo watched for a while, sensing my… lack of cooperation. He let out a cold snort. “Don’t try to play any games, Lynn. You think you’re so important? The company paid for this work; it’s company property. You’d better hand it over properly, or you’ll be in a world of trouble.” I finally stopped typing and looked up, meeting his gaze directly. “Leo, every piece of technical documentation, every version of the design drafts, and every update log has been backed up to the designated server directory, in accordance with the company’s strictest protocols.” My voice was quiet but crystal clear. “Not a single character is missing. As for whether or not the next person can understand it… that’s a matter of their competence.” I paused, my eyes sweeping over him and the pale-faced Mark standing behind him. “Good luck.” Leo was speechless, his face turning the color of raw liver. He probably never expected that I, the person who should have been in tears, begging for my job back, would be so calm, so defiant. He shot me one last hateful glare and stormed off. For the rest of the afternoon, the tech department watched me from a distance. No one came over to ask a question. No one seemed to care about the inner workings of the system they used every single day. All they saw was a “gold digger” making a pathetic exit. I started packing my personal belongings. There wasn’t much. A coffee mug, a small succulent, and a few technical books. I methodically formatted my computer’s hard drive, deleting all browsing history and personal files, ensuring not a single trace of me remained. Before clicking the final “Confirm,” my gaze fell on the code repository statistics. One month. 1.2 million lines of code. That code was like a child I had raised, building a vast and stable empire. I had pulled all-nighters for it, felt a surge of joy with every smooth deployment. And now, I was saying goodbye. A flicker of complex emotion crossed my mind, but it was quickly replaced by an icy calm. The moment this empire betrayed me, its survival was no longer my concern. At six o’clock, I walked out of the gleaming glass doors of Apex Dynamics, holding a small cardboard box. Behind me, the skyscraper’s facade reflected the blinding light of the setting sun. I didn’t look back. Standing on the sidewalk, I took a deep breath of the evening city air, thick with the smell of exhaust fumes. The knot of anger and frustration that had been tightening in my chest finally loosened, exhaled into the dusk. Goodbye, Apex. Goodbye, Arthur. We’re done. 3 The first day after quitting, I slept until I woke up naturally. A sliver of sunlight pierced through a gap in the curtains, casting a bright patch on the floor. I had blocked all calls and messages from Apex, and the world was suddenly, blissfully quiet. I made myself a lavish brunch, then curled up on the sofa and watched a movie I’d been wanting to see for ages. My phone rang in the afternoon. It was an unfamiliar number. I hesitated for a moment before answering. “Hello? Is this Lynn?” A familiar, slightly weary voice came through the line. It was my former boss, the founder of Starlight Technologies, David Chen. “David,” I said, my voice softening instinctively. David was the first boss I ever had, a classic, old-school tech guy with a passion for engineering that bordered on obsession. He was the one who had mentored me, transforming me from a green college grad into a seasoned expert who could lead projects on her own. If Starlight hadn’t run into financial trouble, unable to offer a competitive salary, I never would have considered leaving. “I… I heard you left Apex?” David asked cautiously, as if afraid of treading on a sore spot.

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On the day before New Year’s Eve, a letter arrived. It was from Noah. From the Noah who was seventeen years old. His words were a torrent of pure, undiluted love. He swore he would find me. He told me, begged me, to never forgive the man he had become, the man who was hurting me now. I believed him. And I terminated the pregnancy. On New Year’s Day, I put on the white dress he—the seventeen-year-old Noah—had always loved. And I waited. When the knock finally came, I threw open the door. And froze. Cassie, Noah’s best friend, was doubled over, clutching her stomach, howling with laughter. “I told you she was an idiot, but you wouldn’t believe me! It was just a stupid prank, and she actually fell for it. She even got rid of your baby!” Cassie draped herself over Noah’s arm. “What are we going to do, honey? Looks like your wife won’t be able to give you an heir. Maybe I should have one for you instead.” My hand trembled with rage. I snatched a glass vase from a nearby table and hurled it at her. Noah, who had been standing silently behind me, moved in a blur. His face hardened as he pulled Cassie into a protective embrace, shielding her completely. The vase shattered against the wall behind them. “Summer, are you insane?!” In his fury, he had me committed to a psychiatric hospital. “Even if the seventeen-year-old me did show up,” he’d sneered, his voice dripping with contempt, “he wouldn’t choose a psycho.” But he didn’t know. I really had seen the seventeen-year-old Noah. He was standing right behind the man who was destroying me. A shimmering, translucent outline of a boy. He reached out as if to hug me, then vanished like smoke. All that was left was the present-day Noah, his face a thundercloud, roaring at me. “Cassie was just joking around! Were you trying to kill her?” “Ask anyone here! Who in their right mind would believe a letter from someone ten years in the past? You were stupid enough to get an abortion, and now you’re trying to blame her for it?” His friends, who had gathered behind him, stared at me, their whispers like a swarm of insects. “Poor Noah, having to deal with a crazy wife every day.” “Summer, you should be more considerate. He works so hard, and then he has to come home to your drama.” I looked at the man before me, the man I had loved, and tears welled in my eyes. It was Cassie’s cruel prank. Yet somehow, I was the one in the wrong. The accusations pressed in on me from all sides, a suffocating tide. My vision blurred as I looked at the only person who mattered. “So—” my voice cracked. “Everything you promised me when you were seventeen… that’s all gone now, isn’t it?” Noah flinched. When he was seventeen, he had sworn to me that no matter what I did, right or wrong, he would always be on my side. His world, he’d said, was small. It only had room for me. That was only seven years ago. Now, his world was vast, filled with so many people. And it felt like I was the only one who no longer had a place in it. Maybe it was guilt, or maybe just impatience, but he turned away, revealing the crowd of their friends behind him. I realized then that Cassie had brought them all here, deliberately, to watch me be humiliated. And Noah had known. He had stood by and watched it all happen, watched them laugh at my pain. Just then, the transport from the hospital arrived. A medic performed a brief evaluation and then looked at Noah, concerned. “Mr. Blackwood, your wife is showing no signs of clinical psychosis. The environment in these facilities can be… difficult. Forcing her to go could cause genuine psychological harm.” Noah hesitated, a flicker of doubt in his eyes. But Cassie slung an arm around his neck, her voice a poisonous whisper in his ear. “Honey, you’re not getting soft on me, are you? It’s my birthday tomorrow. You promised I could have my party here, in your house. What if she has another one of her episodes?” At her words, the last of the light in Noah’s eyes died. His voice was cold and final. “Take her.” “Consider it a lesson for what she did to Cassie today.” Behind him, the ghostly boy screamed, his voice silent, his eyes burning with anguish. “What are you doing? That’s Summer! That’s the girl you love!” I gave a bitter, broken laugh. I hadn’t been the person Noah loved for a very long time. The seventeen-year-old Noah would have walked through fire for me. He once charged into a trafficker’s den, alone, to save me. My father, drowning in gambling debt, had sold me to a local ring for five thousand dollars. I was locked in a dark, filthy room, certain my life was over. Then the door splintered open, and there was Noah, covered in blood. There wasn’t an inch of him that wasn’t bruised or bleeding. But he still managed a weak smile and held his arms out, a gesture of comfort. “Summer, don’t be scared. I’m here to get you out.” He carried me out on his back that day. Men with knives slashed at him, but he never let me go. I sobbed, my tears mixing with the blood on his shoulders as I touched his wounds. He just looked back at me and grinned. “What are you crying for? Noah Blackwood never breaks a promise to Summer Day. I told you I’d always protect you. I’d die before I let anyone hurt you.” I never once doubted his sincerity then. But sincerity is a fragile, fleeting thing. Now, all he felt for me was disgust. A loud clang jolted me back to the present. As my head cleared, I heard two nurses talking outside my room. “Mr. Blackwood said to keep her for a couple of days, just to make sure she doesn’t cause any trouble. It’s so sad.” “I know, right? Locking up your own wife just so his little friend can have her birthday party in peace. What a piece of work.” “That’s not all. I heard he’s even transferring the deed of her mother’s house to the friend.” My world stopped. I shot up in bed, my mind reeling. That house was the only thing my mother had left me. The only thing. How could he? How dare he give it to another woman? “Give me my phone,” I demanded, my voice raw. “I need to call Noah.” The nurses were startled by my sudden outburst. One of them reached for a sedative, but the other stopped her. She looked at me with pity in her eyes and handed me my phone. “Do what you need to do, miss.” I snatched the phone and quickly dialed Noah’s number. But it was Cassie who answered. “Well, hello, wifey. Looking for my man? So sorry, he just wore himself out and fell asleep right next to me. Should I wake him for you?” Her voice was smug, dripping with triumph. “Oh, I know what this is about,” she purred. “The house. The transfer went through this morning. To be honest, I don’t really like it. I think I’ll let my dog live there.” Something inside me snapped. Tears streamed down my face, hot and silent. Before I could say a word, I heard Noah’s sleepy, raspy voice in the background. “Who are you talking to so late?” Cassie put the phone on speaker, making sure I could hear everything. “Just a quick question, honey. If it was seventeen years ago, and both me and Summer were standing in front of you, who would you choose?” Noah answered without a moment’s hesitation, his voice thick with disdain. “Why would you even compare yourself to a psycho? She’s not in your league.” “I must have been blind back then.” His words were like steel needles plunging into my heart. I was shaking so violently I thought I would break apart. The pain in my chest was so intense, I thought it was going to stop beating. Suddenly, I felt a strange pressure around me, like a pair of arms wrapping me in a hug. The ghostly boy from before was there, his hands covering my ears. “Summer. Let him go,” his voice whispered in my mind. “He doesn’t deserve you.” I was in that place for three days. On the morning of the fourth, Noah came to pick me up himself. I got into the car, numb. The dark bruise on my forehead, from where I’d repeatedly hit my head against the wall, was stark against the reflection in the car window. Noah’s expression changed instantly. He spun around and roared at the staff. “What the hell happened? I told you to just keep her here, to take care of her! Where did that bruise come from?!” A young nurse shrank back. “Sir, she… she did it to herself. We couldn’t stop her.” Noah’s face grew even darker. He was about to say more, but I spoke from the car, my voice a weak plea. “Noah. Can we just go to the hospital? My head really hurts.” The headaches had started that night. A deep, relentless throbbing that only seemed to ease when I inflicted another pain on myself. But today, it was worse than ever. He stiffened, and for once, he didn’t lash out at me. “Fine. I’ll take you to the hospital.” The car hadn’t even started moving when his phone rang. It was Cassie, her voice a frantic sob. “Oh my god, honey, it was terrifying! Some creep just catcalled me on the street. Can you please come be with me? I’m so scared.” Noah slammed on the brakes. My head flew forward, cracking against the windshield with a sickening thud. Pain exploded behind my eyes. Blood, warm and sticky, began to trickle down my forehead from the new cut. “Please,” I whispered, “just take me to the hospital. You can drop me off. I can check myself in.” He turned to me, his brow furrowed in irritation. “Summer, are you serious? You’re pulling this kind of crap now? Is this some scheme to make something happen to Cassie?” “You did that to yourself,” he said, his voice cold. “Stop being so dramatic.” My head was spinning. The physical pain was nothing compared to the agony in my heart. I couldn’t even speak. A doctor who had seen the incident rushed over. “Mr. Blackwood, you should really get your wife to the ER. That’s a serious laceration.” Noah just shoved me out of the car. “I can’t leave Cassie alone right now. You can either get yourself to the hospital or wait here until I can come back for you tomorrow.” I stumbled and fell hard onto the pavement. He drove off without a second glance. Half an hour later, I saw Cassie’s new post. It was an ultrasound photo. The caption read: It’s true what they say. The one who really loves you will drop everything to be there, no matter what. So I’m giving my man a little reward. Looks like he’s going to be a daddy. A mutual friend commented: Is it Noah’s? Cassie replied to the comment with a single, blushing emoji. I tasted blood in the back of my throat. Is this what you meant, Noah? When you said your world only had room for me? What am I going to do? I don’t think I want to love you anymore. I don’t know when I passed out, or for how long. When I woke up, I was in a hospital bed. Noah stormed into the room, his face a mask of fury. The veins on his hands stood out, tight with rage. “Summer, who was he? Who was the man that brought you here?” He was practically snarling. “Cassie told me she saw some seventeen-year-old kid carrying you into the hospital, and I didn’t believe her. But I saw the security footage. You’re not even trying to hide your affairs anymore, are you? What am I to you? A walking wallet to fund your cradle-robbing?” “You make me sick.” I didn’t bother to explain. There was no point. I just looked at him, my voice flat. “Even if I told you, would you believe me?” “Noah, let’s get a divorce.”

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My mom transferred me to the worst high school in the city. All for a $10,000 bonus. On my first day, I was cornered. Jax, the school’s biggest delinquent, pinned me against a wall demanding protection money. I emptied my pockets. I only found half a stale bagel. “I don’t have money… but do you want half a bagel?” He stared at me for a second. Then he exploded. “Who the hell do you think you are, messing with me?!” The next second, my world went black. I fainted from hunger. Right in front of him. When I woke up, the bully tossed a breakfast burrito at me. He threatened me: “From today on, your meals are on us.” “We’re covering your food.” “But listen closely.” “If you dare fail your exams…” “Or if you breathe a word of this to anyone…” “I’ll beat you to a pulp.” The “Mean Girls” forced me to drink protein shakes. “Your skin is terrible. Don’t ruin the class aesthetic!” They even formed a patrol squad. Just to ensure I safely took the SATs. They were rotting in the mud themselves. Yet, they clumsily lifted me up to touch the stars. On the eve of the big test, Jax took his crew and beat up my harassing parents. “Heard you guys wanted to disturb our star student’s studying?” He looked back at me with a smirk. A wild, yet gentle smile. “Hey, brainiac.” “Go get into Harvard for us.” “Just for kicks.” 01 I got the highest score in the city on the junior year PSATs. My mom beat me for it. She said my little brother was upset. He felt I stole his nutrients in the womb, which is why his grades were so bad. To make it up to him, Mom made a decision. She transferred me from the city’s top magnet school to the worst public school in the district. That school promised her a $10,000 bonus. Just for enrolling a high-achieving student. With that ten grand, she immediately transferred my brother. He went to a private prep school. My brother was thrilled. He called me useless for just being book-smart. He said going to prep school to meet rich kids was the real path to success. He said maybe one day I could even work for him. I didn’t want to transfer. But a beating from my stepdad changed my mind. Being locked in my room without food changed my mind. When I was too hungry to think, I agreed. At that moment, I only had one thought: I didn’t want to die here. Even the worst school was better than starving. At least there were books to read. Before I left, my brother filled me in on my new reality. “That class is full of psychos,” he sneered. “They’d kill you without blinking.” “Don’t even think about fighting back. They’re monsters because they have money and power backing them.” “Just rot there.” “Let’s see who dares to compare you to me then.” I didn’t reply. But I secretly vowed one thing. I would live a better life than this piece of trash. 02 My new classroom was at the very end of the hallway. The door hung crookedly on its hinges. As I got closer, the noise inside sounded like it would blow the roof off. I took a deep breath and pushed the door open. The room instantly fell silent. Every gaze shot towards me. Like they were looking at a monster. I guess my washed-out magnet school uniform was pretty conspicuous here. I didn’t make a sound. I kept my head down, looking for an empty seat. Before I could sit, someone grabbed the back of my collar. It was Jax. I’d heard his name. The king of the school’s delinquents. He cornered me. His shadow loomed over me. “New kid?” A cigarette dangled from his mouth as he squinted at me. “Know the rules here?” “Gotta pay the protection fee.” I didn’t speak. I silently turned all my pockets inside out. Empty. Finally, in my pants pocket, I found something. Half a cold, hard bagel I’d swiped from the kitchen counter that morning. It was rock-hard. I placed it in his open palm. “This… this is it.” He stared at the pathetic thing in his hand. Stunned for several seconds. His expression went from shock to a furious rage at being mocked. “What the f*ck!” He violently threw his hand out. Bagel crumbs scattered everywhere. “Who the hell do you think you are?!” His roar was huge. It made my ears ring. But I hadn’t eaten a proper meal in two days. Since that sip of cold water in the morning, my stomach had been burning. His shout was the last straw. My vision went black. My legs turned to jelly. I fell straight forward. My last conscious thought was that my head hit something. It didn’t hurt much. I just had absolutely no strength left. 03 When I woke up, I found myself lying on a cot. I was in the nurse’s office. The smell of rubbing alcohol mixed with something else. The delicious scent of sausage and eggs. I turned my head. Jax was standing by the bed with a scowl on his face. He held a still-steaming breakfast burrito. He rudely shoved it into my hand. “Here. It tastes like crap. Lucky you.” His eyes darted elsewhere. His tone was hard. “Listen up.” “From today on, we’re covering your meals.” “Your food… tsk, guess it’s our bad luck, it’s on us!” He paused. He leaned in a bit, deliberately putting on a fierce expression. He lowered his voice. “But if you dare fail your exams…” “Or dare to breathe a word of this to anyone…” He shook his fist. “I’ll beat you to a pulp.” “Hear me?” After speaking, he grumpily slapped a stack of papers onto the table next to me. I picked it up. My heart skipped a beat. It was a mock SAT exam. From the city’s top tutoring center. Complete with detailed answer keys and explanations. I had been worrying about this. After transferring, I wouldn’t have access to these materials anymore. I wouldn’t know how to solve the problems I got wrong. I heard the teachers at this school didn’t really teach. “Thank you…” My eyes immediately reddened. Jax bristled like a cat whose tail had been stepped on. “Thank my ass!” “Just write it well for me!” “If you don’t finish… you’re not allowed to go home and eat!” He ordered fiercely. But the tips of his ears seemed a bit red. Just then, a chubby guy ran in. He looked a bit goofy, panting, holding a huge stack of papers. His forehead was covered in sweat. “Jax! Jax!” “Look at these, are they okay?” “I just stole… no, borrowed them from the principal’s office!” His voice was loud. Full of excitement and a desire for praise. Jax was startled. He grumpily ruffled the guy’s hair. “Quiet down, Fatty! Want the whole school to know?” He took the pile. It looked like past exams and practice tests. He glanced at them, then disgustedly shoved the whole lot at me. His expression was totally unnatural. Forcing a tough-guy act. “Uh…” “Study these waste papers too!” “Hurry up, don’t dawdle!” 04 I returned to my new classroom holding the stack of papers. I smelled like breakfast burrito. The room was chaotic. Like a marketplace. By the window, a few girls were gathered around Serena. The school queen bee. They were applying glittery gems to her nails. Next to them, two guys were holding their phones, gaming and cursing. I found an empty seat in the corner and put the papers down. Someone shoved my shoulder hard. I looked up. It was two of Serena’s wannabe-gangster lackeys. “Yo,” one said. “Isn’t this the brainiac who got scared into fainting by Jax this morning?” A girl with green-streaked hair pinched her voice. She looked me up and down sarcastically. Another girl with short hair poked my arm with her exaggerated acrylic nails. She tsked in disgust. “OMG, why are you so skinny?” “Like a bean sprout.” “A gust of wind would blow you away, right?” “My teddy bear eats more meat than you.” I shrunk my neck in fear. Not daring to breathe loud. Trembling all over. Serena sat there, slowly blowing on her freshly done nails. She winked at the side. The green-haired girl immediately pulled a carton of milk from her desk. Expensive. Organic. She popped the straw in and practically shoved it into my mouth. “Drink it!” she said viciously. Someone next to them immediately raised their phone. Started recording. The camera was almost in my face. The class clown, Richy, leaned in grinning. He was decked out in designer logos. He made a peace sign at the camera, then called his dad on video chat right there. As soon as the call connected, he yelled. “Dad! Look!” “That organic milk you wanted to promote, I found someone to taste-test it!” “A bona fide Harvard prospect! Number one in the city!” “Look how much she’s enjoying it!” He jerked the camera toward me. Threatening me with his eyes. The straw was still in my mouth. I was forced to take a big gulp. I almost choked. I could only make a vague “Mmm” sound and let out a small milk burp. Richy was incredibly smug. “Hear that, Dad! She said it’s good!” “Hurry up and send me money. This was hard work, you know.” “Oh yeah, by the way, cover her milk for the whole year!” “When she gets into Harvard, this will be ‘Harvard Milk’!” Soon, his dad sent him ten grand. Someone quickly delivered a month’s supply of milk. Richy raised his eyebrows at me. “You must drink this milk every day.” “One carton a day.” “Otherwise… otherwise we’ll bully you!” Serena finally deigned to speak. She glanced at me. Faintly. “Yeah, you need to nourish yourself.” “Your face is sallow.” “It’s lowering the average attractiveness of our class.” 05 It didn’t take long for me to gain weight in Class 2. Richy was always bringing me all kinds of food to try. One day it was free-range chicken. The next it was a new gourmet protein bar. “Star,” he’d say. “If you say it’s good, I’ll have my dad start production immediately.” “The slogan will be ‘Highly Recommended by Harvard Bound Brainiac’!” He even gave names to the things I’d eaten. Harvard Chicken. Harvard Egg. Harvard Milk. He had a little notebook specially for recording what I ate and how I did on tests afterward. Then he would seriously analyze it with his dad. “Dad, look!” “After drinking this milk, she got a 1580 on the SAT practice!” “After eating that chocolate, she only missed one point on the English section!” “This investment is worth it!” In the following days, I slowly figured out the background of these people. Jax was raised by his grandmother. She collected recyclables. He was poked in the spine a lot as a kid for not having parents. His fists were forced to become hard. So he despised bullying the most. Especially seeing people like me who didn’t cause trouble being pushed to the brink. In his words: “My fists are hard.” “But I never hit anyone who’s already down.” A weakling like me who only knew how to study… Somehow became the one under his wing that no one was allowed to touch. Once, a few guys from the class next door cornered me outside the bathroom. Making sarcastic remarks. “Good students come to this kind of place to use the bathroom too?” “Heard you’re pretty arrogant, huh?” They even tried to grab the phone in my hand. It was Serena’s old one she’d just given me. Before I could react, a thunderous roar sounded from behind me. “F*ck!” “Touching someone from my class?!” Jax appeared out of nowhere. Eyes red. Without a word, he grabbed a spare wooden chair by the wall and charged. He looked like he was really going to smash it onto them. “Jealous, huh?” “Envious that our class has a Harvard prospect, right?” “I’ll open your eyes today!” Those guys were bullies who only picked on the weak. They’d never seen this kind of life-threatening battle array. They were so scared they pissed themselves and ran. Jax threw down the chair. Panting heavily. He turned his head to glare at me. “What are you standing there for?” “Go back and study!” “Stop wandering around here causing trouble!”

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My husband was out of town. I had just finished indulging in some spicy romance fiction when I scrolled past a post that nearly made my heart stop. 【On a business trip. Bought my wife a “replacement husband” to keep her company. How should I send him to her so she’ll love me a little more?】 Still riding the high from my reading, I typed out a reply without thinking: 【You know the “rugged blue-collar” look? Get him a tight tank top. Tell him to do some push-ups before he knocks so his muscles are pumped. Say he’s there to fix the plumbing.】 I sat back, waiting for the OP to ask for links. Instead, he just replied: 【Thank you.】 A second later, a text from my husband—who had been gone for a week on a business trip—popped up: 【There’s a problem with the bathroom pipes. I called someone to come fix them. Remember to open the door.】 1 I scrolled through the thread right before bed. 【On a business trip. Bought my wife a “replacement husband”…】 I had just finished a particularly steamy romance novel. My face was flushed, my heart was racing, and I was in a state of high-octane excitement. My first thought seeing the post? Is this bait? I clicked in immediately. Of course, the midnight crowd on this forum was full of wild imaginations. The comments were piling up by the hundreds. 【Oh, she’ll love it. Pick someone who looks innocent but wears as little as possible. That’s our type.】 【The best pacifier in the world is a man’s chest. PS: Needs to be the sensitive type. Just a suggestion.】 【Worried your wife’s bed is getting cold? Don’t be. Action tonight! Hot skin contact incoming.】 The OP specifically tagged that last one and replied: 【That sounds perfect.】 I smelled something unusual. I typed: 【Just curious, what exactly did your wife do to make you think she’s “missing” a husband?】 A few seconds later, the OP replied to me: 【She did nothing. I’m the one who failed her.】 I was ready to launch into a rant about toxic relationships, but the OP continued: 【When I was younger, I was in a car accident. My legs can’t support my weight for long, so I’m mostly in a wheelchair. Luckily, everything “works,” but she always has to be the active one. Watching her get exhausted and then having to walk to the shower on shaky legs herself… I hate myself for it.】 【Plus, I’m always busy with work and traveling. She’s home alone. She’s young and has needs. There are too many temptations out there. I decided it was better to find someone I trust to look after her.】 2 The comment section was in shock. 【I’ll believe this “insecure saint” exists when I believe I’m the reincarnation of Elvis.】 【Long live the King!】 【Seriously, I thought I’d read every trope, but this is a new level of “down bad.”】 【Look at that IP address. Is this guy a billionaire CEO or something?】 The OP replied: 【Close enough. I’m here closing a merger and checking on a branch office. Things are going well, we’re in an expansion phase, so I’ll be here a while.】 【I bought her some sapphire necklaces, clothes, shoes, and a few of the latest designer bags. But it doesn’t feel like enough.】 【Money can’t replace companionship. I thought it over and picked the person I’m most satisfied with to send to her.】 The thread was boiling over. Only I was starting to feel a chill. This sounded way too much like me and my husband, Silas. I’m not usually the type to overthink things. I sent a link to the thread to Silas. I sent a testing text: 【Can you bring me back some of the “pastries” they’re talking about in these comments?】 It was morning where he was. Silas replied almost instantly. 【One sec. I don’t have that app downloaded. I can’t see the comments.】 I let out a breath. I felt a mix of relief and a strange, deflating disappointment as I lay back on the bed. Right. Of course. How could Silas be secretly obsessed with me? Let alone love me with that kind of desperate humility? I thought of him in the boardroom—cold, calculating, powerful. I swiped through our chat. It was dry and formal. “Good morning,” “Good night,” “Have you eaten?” Not exactly the talk of newlyweds. While I was being sentimental, the internet had added another hundred layers to the thread. 【If a man doesn’t love me to this level of insanity, I don’t want it!】 【Is this real life? Can I have the money AND the obsessive love?】 【I finally get why insecurity is a man’s best accessory. Where do I find a guy like this?】 【Drop the tutorial, sis. How did you train him?】 The OP replied to that one quite seriously: 【I just searched that term. For the record, she didn’t “train” me. She just likes to rest her head on my lap and kiss the scars on my legs. I told her they were ugly; she told me I was brave.】 3 【…Is it possible your wife actually loves you? Bro, please stop looking for rivals. I’m begging you.】 【I usually hate sharing plots, but I actually want these two to be monogamous.】 【Is this a “Golden Girl” meets “Stern Daddy” dynamic? That’s adorable.】 Wait. That thing about the leg scars? I actually did that. Was it just a coincidence? The OP didn’t reply for a long time. I was getting anxious. I went to get a glass of water, and when I came back, there was an update: 【Everyone, don’t misunderstand. My wife is just too kind. She doesn’t love me; our marriage was something I forced. I don’t deserve her.】 【I’m already selfish enough. I have a broken body, yet I used my influence to bind her to me. I don’t expect to be lucky enough to actually have her love.】 Then, he got back to the point. 【I just got a call. He’s asking when he can see his “sister-in-law.” I realized we got off track. Does anyone have advice on how to introduce him?】 The internet caught the keyword immediately. 【Sister-in-law? I have a feeling the “replacement” isn’t a stranger.】 【A “brother” dynamic? This just got spicy.】 【I bet it’s a cousin. The kind who sees his brother and sister-in-law fighting and sneaks in to “clean up.”】 The OP clarified: 【He’s my cousin. I don’t trust strangers near her.】 【There is no sharing. My wife only has one legal husband—me.】 【We don’t fight. But he really likes that one song.】 4 The thread spiraled into chaos after that. The OP kept asking for advice, but no one was taking him seriously anymore. By this point, my initial shock had turned into amusement. I figured this was just a clever new way for a web novel author to promote their work. The “immersion” was top-tier. As a fan of the genre, I decided to contribute. I used my alt account to tag the OP: 【You know the “rugged blue-collar” look? Get him a cheap, thin tank top—easy to tear, tight enough to show everything. Have him do fifty push-ups to get his muscles pumped, then have him show up saying he’s there to fix the pipes. When he gets inside, have him “accidentally” splash water over his abs.】 The moment I posted, a string of replies came in asking for “sauce.” I smiled, feeling proud of my contribution, until I saw two words from the OP. 【Thank you.】 Thank me for what? Before I could process it, my phone buzzed. I put down my iPad and unlocked my phone. It was Silas. 【There’s a problem with the bathroom pipes. I called someone to come fix them. Remember to open the door.】

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The team bonding dinner. I followed the GPS for twenty miles. When I arrived, all I saw was a field of rebar and rubble. I called. My colleague on the other end was laughing so hard he could barely speak: “No way, Boss, you actually went? It was just a joke, ha ha ha.” In the background, the cheers and jeers of the entire table were deafening. I stood in the middle of nowhere for ten minutes, then spent another hour driving to the correct location. They were already gone when I finally arrived. The table was a wreck. The next morning, I called him into my office during the daily meeting. He gave me a lazy, easy smile: “Lighten up, Boss. Just a little office fun.” I placed a thin file in front of him, my face a mask: “Funny you should say that. I decided to make a joke, too.” 01 My name is Blair Kincaid, and I was barely two weeks into the job as the new Division Head. To fast-track a positive relationship with the team, I offered to pay for a celebratory dinner out of my own pocket—a peace offering from the new boss. The office broke into a chorus of fake, hollow cheers. No one looked at me. Only one long-time employee, Travis Shaw, volunteered, an unusual burst of helpfulness. He enthusiastically patted his chest and took over the reservation, a zeal that honestly surprised me. I was even naive enough to think he just needed an opening, a chance to show initiative, and my goodwill gesture had worked. On the evening of the dinner, an emergency file from HQ snagged my attention. I called the team and told them to start without me. Travis answered, his voice jovial: “Got it, Boss. We’ll save a seat for you.” It was past seven when I finally wrapped up. I opened the location pin Travis had sent. Navigation showed twenty miles, an hour’s drive away from the downtown core. My car drove out of the city’s electric glow. The streetlights thinned out, then vanished completely in the rearview mirror. A cold knot of unease began to twist in my stomach. But I checked myself. I told myself to trust my colleagues. I couldn’t afford to be suspicious. When the car finally stopped, the GPS announced, “You have arrived at your destination.” I cut the engine and pushed the door open. In front of me were bulldozers, twisted rebar, and the half-demolished steel skeletons of buildings. The wind kicked up a choking cloud of construction dust. This wasn’t a restaurant. It was a dead, silent demolition site. I pulled out my phone and called Travis. He picked up quickly. The background was loud, filled with the clinking of glasses and rowdy laughter. “Hello, Boss? Where are you?” His voice carried a barely suppressed edge of amusement. I tightened my grip on the phone, trying to keep my voice even: “Travis, what is this address you sent me?” The phone line exploded with unrestrained laughter. Travis was practically gasping for air. “No way, Boss, you actually went?” “Oh my God, that is rich! That is just too easy!” Then came the collective roar of my “dear” subordinates—a chorus of mocking shouts and cheering. The sound was like a thousand poisoned spikes, piercing the phone and driving hard into my ears. I hung up, standing alone in the encompassing darkness. The night wind howled over the ruins, a thin, desolate cry that chilled me to the bone. The past two weeks—the passive reports, the strange, knowing looks in meetings, the conversations that stopped the moment I walked into the breakroom—all the small details of my calculated isolation suddenly snapped into sharp focus. My attempts at warmth and my professional patience, in their eyes, were merely the hallmark of a soft, easily manipulated target. I reopened my navigation app and searched for the name of the restaurant Travis had tagged in his social media post. Another hour of driving. By the time I reached the brightly lit restaurant, it was nearly ten o’clock. The private room door was open, and the room was empty. The table was a disaster of half-eaten food, spilled wine, oily plates, and scattered napkins—all mocking my lateness and my stupidity in deafening silence. I walked to the host stand to settle the bill. The cashier looked at me with an immediate, deep sympathy. “Are you Ms. Kincaid?” “Yes.” “Your tab is already closed out. Your colleagues said you wouldn’t be making it tonight and told us not to wait.” That last sentence was like a dull, rusty knife, sawing back and forth across my chest. I sat alone in the empty private room, staring at the remnants of their feast. I thought this was team building. To them, it had just been a well-planned, elaborate public shaming. My eyes felt hot, but I bit down hard on my lip, refusing to let a single tear fall. Driving home, shame, fury, and a bone-deep sense of betrayal crashed over my rational mind in repeated waves. My hands, gripping the steering wheel, were shaking uncontrollably. Back in my empty apartment, I threw myself onto the sofa. Travis’s unbridled laugh, and the piercing shouts of the crowd in the background, played on infinite loop in my head. I stayed awake that night, staring at the ceiling until three in the morning. 02 The next day, I walked into the office with dark, bruised circles under my eyes. The office was buzzing with its usual energy, people gathered in small, tight knots. The moment I walked in, the low chatter abruptly stopped, but the barely suppressed, knowing smiles on several faces were more insulting than any noise could have been. It was time for the morning meeting. Travis and a few of the older employees sat together, whispering and exchanging glances. Their eyes would dart to me occasionally, a look of unmistakable, arrogant mischief on their faces. My phone vibrated. It was a text from my best friend, Sasha Reed. “Blair, you’re kidding me, right? Travis just posted the whole story in the company-wide chat, adding all kinds of garbage about how the new boss is a total amateur who got lost in the middle of nowhere. The entire company knows.” I swiped across the screen, opening the massive chat group. Dozens of unread messages, all about me. “Is the new boss that gullible?” “LOL, I’m dying. What’s the poor woman’s emotional damage score?” Followed by a cascade of laughing emojis. I turned off my phone, took a slow, deep breath, and shoved the churning emotions down. I walked to the front of the conference room. I started with a voice that was eerily calm: “The dinner last night was excellent. Thank you all for participating. However, starting today, we are refocusing all our energy on performance and hitting our targets.” The moment I finished, Travis interjected with an obvious, cutting sarcasm. “So, Boss, did you have a fun time last night? The scenery out there was nice, right? Fresh air and all that!” The conference room immediately erupted in boisterous laughter. It was louder, sharper, and more brazen than the laughter on the phone the night before. I raised my eyes and stared at Travis, silently, for a full five seconds. Under my gaze, his cocky smile briefly faltered. But that moment of stiffness quickly dissolved into a more aggressive bravado. “Come on, Boss, I’m just making a joke. Don’t be such a sore loser. Right, guys?” He even turned to his co-conspirators for support. I withdrew my gaze and continued to assign the week’s tasks as if nothing had happened. After the meeting, I retreated to my office. My new administrative assistant, a young woman, came in with a stack of files. She looked distressed, her face a mix of sympathy and fear. After I pressed her repeatedly, she whispered. “Ms. Kincaid… I overheard Travis and the others saying outside… that the new manager came in thinking she could establish authority by buying everyone dinner, but she got played and deserved it.” I called Sasha and recounted the morning. Sasha exploded on the other end: “That is straight-up workplace bullying! You cannot let this go! You need to go to Mr. Wallace, or you need to find a way to fire that snake!” I leaned back in my chair, feeling a profound helplessness. Report it up? I was a parachute manager. Crying to the CEO about a subordinate’s “joke” would make me look thin-skinned and incapable of managing my own team. Handle it directly? I had no roots here. Any rash move would spark a wider revolt and isolate me even more. Near the end of the day, I watched through the blinds as Travis slung his bag over his shoulder, walking out the door with a confident stride. He was bragging to a nearby colleague. “See? I told you she was easy to handle. Soft like a marshmallow. Played her, and she didn’t even squeak.” The words drifted clearly into my office. My hand, resting on the desk, slowly clenched into a fist. 03 Over the next few days, Travis’s provocations became more brazen. He either dragged his feet on tasks I assigned or deliberately botched them. A report due on Wednesday was finally dumped on my desk at 4:58 PM on Friday. When I pointed out the data errors, he just shrugged with a lazy arrogance: “Oops. You didn’t clearly spell out that requirement, Boss. That’s just how I interpreted it.” During the weekly team meeting, I presented a new, comprehensive performance strategy—one I had stayed up for several nights to prepare. The moment I finished, Travis was the first one to jump in. “This plan is completely unrealistic for our department. Too academic, too pie-in-the-sky.” Several veteran employees immediately echoed him. “Yeah, Ms. Kincaid, that model is too complex. We can’t execute it.” “Exactly. Too much theory, not enough feet-on-the-ground.” I brought out detailed data and case studies, trying to argue my position. Travis folded his arms and let out a cold laugh. “Data is dead, Ms. Kincaid. We’re the people on the front lines. You haven’t been in the trenches. You don’t know the territory.” With one sentence, he blocked all my efforts. The meeting ended in disarray, the new plan indefinitely shelved. I felt a deep, chilling sense of defeat. That afternoon, Mr. Wallace’s email arrived on schedule. “Blair, why are your department’s metrics continuing to slide for the second week in a row? I need a detailed explanation by Friday.” The cold, terse language was like a bucket of ice water dumped over my head. I immediately pulled up the department’s performance dashboard and checked the figures line by line. The problem quickly became obvious: the large accounts managed by Travis had all flagged abnormal activity. Some project workflows were suddenly stalled, and others, currently in contract renewal talks, had been hit with extremely difficult demands from the client. I bypassed Travis and called the procurement manager for one of the key accounts, gathering information discreetly. The manager didn’t mince words: “Blair, I was about to call you. Your guy, Travis, has been completely useless lately. He’s short with us and ignores our queries. We’re seriously considering taking our business elsewhere.” I hung up, shaking with rage. I finally understood. He wasn’t just undermining me; he was deliberately sabotaging the entire department’s performance to make me look incompetent and get me fired. He was going to be the executioner. That evening, I stayed late to draft the damned explanation for Mr. Wallace. Halfway through, I stopped. I realized that simply reporting the problem and painting myself as a helpless victim would be the single most foolish move. It would only confirm to Mr. Wallace that I couldn’t control my own team. My phone lit up. Sasha’s text: “Dinner. I’m giving you a professional intervention, sis.” At the restaurant, Sasha listened to my story, then poked my forehead, furious. “You’re too nice, too professional! This isn’t a charity hall, Blair. It’s a coliseum! When you need to show your teeth, you show your teeth!” Her words hit me like a hammer blow. Before we left, Sasha lowered her voice: “Don’t forget, I’m in HR. Every employee file—attendance, reviews, disciplinary history—I have access to it all. Maybe you’ll find what you need in there.” I looked at her, and a flicker of cold, hard light ignited in my eyes. 04 From that day on, I began to watch Travis, quietly. I quickly noticed that he was often missing during the workday, slipping out of the office early, around three or four in the afternoon. I asked Sasha for help, and she pulled up the key-fob records for the past three months. The records showed that Travis had been late or left early over forty times. On several days, he didn’t even swipe in until after ten AM and was gone before four PM. Yet, mysteriously, the company’s internal time-tracking system showed full attendance every day. The only explanation was that someone was covering for him, clocking him in and out. Sasha also found something new. She discretely checked Travis’s HR file. It clearly documented that Travis and the former Division Head, Spencer Graham, had an unusually close relationship. Travis had been Spencer’s go-to guy when Spencer was still an analyst. When Spencer rose through the ranks, he brought Travis up with him. Travis was his core loyalist. Spencer, who had been demoted to a non-managerial role a month ago due to poor performance and lax management, was the manager whose spot I was now filling. All the pieces clicked together. I wasn’t just facing an arrogant pawn. I was facing a deeply entrenched snake pit, led by the former manager. Spencer was pulling the strings, and Travis was the front-man, aiming to discredit me, force me out, and thereby prove to the company that he wasn’t the problem—the department was simply “ungovernable.” My enemy was far more powerful and insidious than I had imagined. I widened my investigation to include the other veteran employees closest to Travis. With Sasha’s help, I reviewed their work-related emails for the past six months. A shocking discovery surfaced. Travis was repeatedly using his personal email address to send core client data and pricing sheets to several unknown external companies. This wasn’t just insubordination; this was commercial espionage. He was likely operating a side-business, profiting off the firm’s resources. I instructed my assistant to collect every project contract and financial ledger Travis had ever managed, under the guise of “end-of-year archiving.” After two days and two nights of auditing, I found two completed projects where the contract amount and the company’s actual bank deposit differed significantly. The discrepancies added up to just over five thousand dollars. Sasha warned me that it wasn’t time to strike yet. “You have to turn every piece of evidence into an ironclad case. No room for him to wiggle out. You get one shot, so make it a kill shot.” I took her advice. On the surface, I continued to play the role of the “soft marshmallow.” I met Travis’s constant provocations and deliberate delays with the same silence and tolerance. This posture allowed his little clique to drop their guard even further. Once, I accidentally overheard Travis in the breakroom bragging to a colleague. “See? I told you she wouldn’t do anything. I played her at the dinner, and she didn’t even squeak. A soft target like that can’t manage this department.” I stood outside the door, listening to the laughter, my face utterly devoid of emotion. I simply walked back to my office, opened my computer, and with a cold, slow smile, recorded the suspicious five-thousand-dollar difference in the encrypted document I had named “Judgment.” 05 The time was ripe. I decided to make the first move and set a trap. At the Monday morning meeting, I announced that the company was launching a critical new initiative, the “Aurora Project,” which required full team cooperation. The project was, of course, entirely fictional, but the documentation, goals, and execution process were fabricated to be flawless. I specifically assigned the most critical, high-profile component of the project to Travis. And in front of everyone, I emphasized one key point. “Mr. Wallace is personally monitoring this project. Every communication, every step, must be formally documented and logged via email.” Travis clearly didn’t suspect a thing. He handled the task I assigned with his usual attitude of arrogance and delay. I, in turn, recorded every email reply, every verbal commitment, every status update, via email and voice memos. Next, I set him up to connect with a “very important” new client. In reality, the contact was a friend of mine, a seasoned executive with whom I had established the ground rules in advance. My friend followed our agreed-upon script, presenting a few slightly complicated but perfectly reasonable demands for the partnership—a stress test for Travis’s professionalism and service attitude. Predictably, Travis lost his patience after only a few exchanges. In the final phone call, he yelled at my “client” friend, his voice dripping with frustration. “We can’t deal with all these demands! Are you signing the contract or not? Because frankly, if not, I’m done with this!” That disastrous call was recorded verbatim by my friend and immediately forwarded to me. This was solid proof of him actively damaging the company’s commercial interests and brand reputation. Simultaneously, I worked with a contact in Finance to pull Travis’s expense reports for the last six months. I found several large reimbursements for cross-state travel, but the project names on the forms didn’t match any records in my files. Sasha’s information was even more damning. Under the pretext of a fire safety check, she pulled the security camera footage for our floor on those dates. The footage clearly showed that on the days Travis claimed to be on “client trips to Atlanta and Boston,” he never actually left the city. He was seen lounging around the office in casual clothes every single day. Falsified expenses, theft of company funds. The chain of evidence was complete. Attendance fraud, falsified expenses, operating a side-business, leaking commercial data, maliciously damaging client relationships, and acting against the firm’s interests… I compiled all the evidence into a dossier over fifty pages thick. That Friday evening, I sat alone in my silent office, looking at the final, complete “Judgment” on my screen. The crushing weight I’d carried for over a month finally eased. I took a deep breath and sent a single email to Mr. Wallace. The subject line read: “URGENT: Serious Violations by Market Two Employee Travis Shaw.” The moment I hit “Send,” I let out a long, quiet sigh, as if completing a sacred ceremony. 06 Mr. Wallace’s efficiency exceeded my expectations. Less than half an hour after I sent the email, his reply came: “9 AM sharp, my office, Monday.” I arrived at his office fifteen minutes early on Monday morning. The atmosphere in Mr. Wallace’s office was heavy and severe. I handed him the printed, bound materials with both hands. Mr. Wallace flipped through the pages, his expression moving from calm to severe, then to a hardened, iron-gray. A storm was gathering in his sharp eyes. He clearly hadn’t imagined that such a deep level of rot could exist in a basic division, right under his nose. He set the materials down and looked up at me, silent for a long moment. “Why didn’t you come to me sooner?” His voice was low, carrying a note of scrutiny. I met his gaze, my reply measured: “Before I had this complete and irrefutable evidence, any rushed report could have been seen as a new manager’s attempt to purge the ranks. I didn’t want to give the company that impression.” The scrutiny in his eyes slowly faded, replaced by a flash of approval. “You did the right thing. In this company, evidence always speaks louder than emotion. I will immediately bring HR and Internal Audit into this. How do you intend to handle Travis?” “By the book, sir,” I said. “He violated multiple policies. We proceed strictly according to the company’s code of conduct.” At ten AM, the department meeting proceeded as usual. I laid out the week’s work, my expression professionally neutral. At the very end of the meeting, I said, almost as an afterthought: “Travis, I need to see you in my office right after this.” Travis looked briefly surprised, then exchanged a confident wink with a colleague, his lips silently forming the word: “Here we go again.” A few minutes later, he swaggered into my office. The moment the door closed, he put on his usual smirk. “Morning, Boss. What critical directive do you have for me this time?” I remained silent, sitting quietly behind my desk, just watching him. In front of me, I had placed a single, thin piece of paper. Not the thick dossier, just a simple sheet. My silence made him visibly uncomfortable, and the smile on his face grew strained. I pushed the document toward him, without a single flicker of emotion. “Read this first.” He picked it up, confused. The moment his eyes registered the bold, black text on the page, the color drained completely from his face. It was a formal Notice of Termination of Employment, issued by the company’s Human Resources Department.

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