Category: English

All because Elias, the self-proclaimed Ascended, coughed during his morning mantra, my father’s business was gutted by sundown. The Guru, perched atop his mountain of self-righteousness, proclaimed: “Your father’s deliberate distraction during my spiritual cleanse was a transgression. This is the universe’s necessary correction.” I dragged my crippled right leg—a souvenir from a night I regretted—and filed the lawsuit. The cost was instant and brutal: the company’s swift, ignoble collapse, followed by my father’s fall from our penthouse balcony. He didn’t die, but the shock cleaved his mind in two. They locked him away in a sterile, padded room. In that raw pit of despair, my wife, Sherry, tossed in the final stick of dynamite. She grabbed my left leg—the good one—and leaned in, her eyes cold as chips of glacier ice. “Drop the suit. Now. Or you and your father can both rot in hell.” It was the moment the illusion shattered. Every cruelty, every loss, had been Sherry’s carefully orchestrated defense of her ‘spiritual guide.’ As the crushing weight of betrayal pinned me to the floor, my father’s cell phone, which I’d salvaged, suddenly buzzed. On the other end was the voice of my eighteen-year-old self. “Dad! I finished my last final! You and Mom just keep working—I can walk home myself.” That walk home. That was the day I’d found Sherry being jumped in a dark alley. The day I played hero. The day I earned this mangled right leg. A frantic, electric hope surged through me. I choked out a warning to the past. “Don’t save her, do you hear me? Don’t save Sherry! For God’s sake, I’m begging you!” I needed to see it. I needed to know if without my intervention, without my money and protection, she could still ascend to the heights she’d reached, leaving ruin in her wake. Eighteen-year-old Gabe was understandably bewildered. “Sherry who? And who are you? Why do you have my dad’s phone?” I fought to keep the desperation from my voice. “It’s me. You. The twenty-eight-year-old version.” “Are you kidding me? Give the phone back to my father or I’m calling the police!” The memory of my dad’s vacant, institutionalized stare tightened my chest like a garrote wire. “Your father can’t talk right now, but I can prove it. You have a heart-shaped birthmark on your inner thigh, and you’re planning to buy a strawberry layer cake on the way home to celebrate.” The birthmark had appeared my senior year. Nobody knew about it. The cake idea had literally just popped into my head the moment I left campus. A pause stretched across the line, heavy with disbelief and dawning fear. Then: “You’re really me? Okay, then tell me—am I successful at twenty-eight? Do I have a happy life?” No. You fell in love with a beautiful poison, and it destroyed everything you ever cared about. Just then, I heard footsteps on the stairs. Sherry. Panic made my voice a desperate rasp. “Listen! Don’t walk home today. Don’t try to save anyone, ever. That person will be the reason you’re crippled, and the reason your family suffers!” The basement door was thrown open. Sherry stood framed in the dim light, her expression cold and hard. I fumbled, slamming the phone shut and shoving it deep into my jeans pocket. “Who were you talking to?” she demanded, her voice an icy threat. “No one,” I ground out. She crossed the room, grabbed my throat, and squeezed. “Trying to call for help? I suggest you save yourself the effort of resistance.” A second later, her bodyguards dragged me out by the back of my collar and violently dumped me into the room she had converted into my father’s makeshift wake. Elias, dressed in flowing linen robes, stood over me, holding a long, flexible switch—a cane fashioned from a slender branch—like a holy weapon. “Mr. Gabriel,” Elias said, his voice dripping with condescension. “Your repeated attempts to undermine the faith have clearly opened you up to possession. I must perform an exorcism.” “For cleansing the heart and purifying the body,” he added, gesturing to the guards. “Strip him.” My fingernails dug into my palms. Rage tasted like metal on my tongue. “I’m not possessed! You are the sickness! Sherry, I’ll drop the suit! Just don’t let him defile my father’s memory like this!” Sherry hesitated, a flicker of something—maybe doubt, maybe pity—in her eye. Elias cut her off, his voice injured. “You’ve refused to drop the suit for months, but a single day in the dark basement breaks you? This is the cunning of the evil spirit! He’s feigning submission to seek retribution later. Ms. Sherry, do you trust him or do you trust me?” Sherry’s face hardened. She chose him. “I trust you, Elias. Guards, take his clothes.” They swarmed me. My struggles were futile against four men, especially with one bad leg. The cloth was ripped away piece by piece. Humiliated, naked, I was forced to kneel before my father’s photograph. The shame was a physical blow. I wanted to smash my head against the wall and end it all. The next second, Elias’s switch whipped down, biting deep into my skin. A white-hot slash of pain ripped across my back, followed instantly by a bead of blood. Elias’s voice was sanctimonious, ringing in the room. “Your father’s spirit would not wish to see his son controlled by a demon. He was kind to Ms. Sherry in life, so she will bear witness to the casting out of this evil, so his soul may finally rest.” I tried to scramble away, but Elias’s leather boot slammed down onto my injured right knee. I collapsed, face-first, gagging on dust and pain. Sherry watched. Her brow was furrowed, but she made no move to stop him. She knew. She knew exactly how I’d earned that injury. Time dissolved into agony. Finally, Elias grew tired. My back was a raw, bloody mess. I lay on the floor, barely breathing. Sherry walked over, knelt down, and tenderly cradled my cheek. A flash of something that looked agonizingly like sorrow crossed her eye. “Elias does everything in adherence to the higher law, Gabriel. Don’t blame him,” she murmured. “Just be sensible, and no one will ever take your place as my husband.” I looked into her eyes, silent, a tsunami of hatred roiling in my heart. It’s been an hour. My eighteen-year-old self must have avoided her now. Soon, Sherry would be nothing more than a ghost. I was transferred to a hospital, more dead than alive. The doctor, a kind man, shook his head sadly. “The lacerations on your back are severe, no water for days. But there’s good news, inexplicably. Your right leg—it’s healed. Overnight. Like it was never broken.” I stared, stunned. Before I could process the miracle, a flurry of hushed voices drifted in from the hallway. “Did you hear? CEO Sherry was in a nasty car wreck on her way to the office. Her right eye is completely gone.” I froze. Then, my father’s cell phone rang again. It was my younger voice, excited. “Finally! I managed to call you back. I took an Uber home last night, and guess what? I saw an alley where a bunch of thugs were roughing someone up. Someone had their right eye gouged out! Crazy, right?” Gouged out. The original timeline: I saved Sherry, losing my right leg. The new timeline: I didn’t save her, my leg healed, and she lost her right eye. The trade was made. But the victory felt hollow. I frantically searched for news about my parents. My mother’s suicide headline was still there. The photo of my father in the asylum was still trending. Why? I avoided Sherry. Why hadn’t their tragedy been erased? Then, the young voice on the phone continued. “Oh, and Mom and Dad gave me a million dollars! I’m going to start a company. I’m meeting with investors next week.” A rush of forgotten memory. After I saved Sherry, I took her in, discovered her terrifying business acumen, and used my family’s money to fund her. That was the start of the massive Sherry Empire. The original tragedy must have been locked into the past, regardless of the injury swap. It meant the funding was the key. Sherry will be at that investment meeting. “Listen to me, this is critical,” I urged the younger me. “Next week, if you meet a woman named Sherry, no matter how brilliant she seems, do not pick her. Don’t even talk to her. Pick the other one. The one named Andrea.” Andrea (Andrea) was Sherry’s greatest rival, a brilliant mind who’d died young from an illness exacerbated by financial stress. If I funded her and ensured her health, she could become our family’s shield, or better, our sword. Young Gabe, now completely terrified, agreed without hesitation. I stayed in the hospital for a week. Sherry never visited. The news, however, was filled with images of her and Elias. Elias sitting in three days of meditation, praying to heal her eye. Elias building fifty-five “wellness shrines” in her name. I laughed, a dry, bitter sound. I tried to call young Gabe again, but the phone just gave a dead signal. Our connection was fragile, only active when he reached out first. The day I was discharged was the day of the investment meeting. I walked out, a free man with two good legs, sick with worry, hoping young Gabe had chosen Andrea. I arrived home that evening. The front door was ajar. A guttural, agonizing sound was coming from the living room. Father. A knot of dread cinched my stomach. I sprinted inside. My father was lashed tightly to a support column. In front of him sat a basin of murky black fluid. Elias stood over him, holding a surgical scalpel. “Elias, what the hell are you doing!” I screamed, slamming into him and sending him sprawling. Elias scrambled toward Sherry, whimpering. “Darling, Gabriel’s father is cursing you from the asylum! That’s why your eye is damaged! He’s possessed! I was trying to drain the malignant blood and replace it with a purified plasma, to give him a clean slate!” Sherry was pale but supportive. “Elias is only trying to help your family, Gabriel. Don’t be hysterical.” I looked at the woman I had loved for a decade. She was a stranger. “You are the ones who are possessed! Sherry, he’s not a guru, he’s a damn monster!” SMACK. Sherry’s palm stung my cheek. Her eyes flashed with fury. “Do not disparage my Ascended! Not another word, Gabriel.” Elias shot me a triumphant smirk. Then, with a practiced motion, he slashed the scalpel across my father’s wrist. Blood immediately sprayed onto the floor. “Stop! Stop it!” I screamed, lunging forward. Sherry’s fist slammed into my jaw. The world went dark. I woke up on the sofa. Sherry’s jacket was draped over me. She sat nearby, looking at me with that complex mix of guilt and disdain. I bolted up, grabbing her by the jacket lapels. “My father! Where is he? What did you do?” “His evil spirits were too potent, even for the sacred text,” Elias announced, standing nearby, his arms crossed. “A true pity. Such a sin, I weep for him.” I swung, catching Elias with a desperate, heavy backhand. “You animal!” Sherry’s grip snapped onto my wrist, her voice glacial. “Enough, Gabriel. I’ve already sent your father to the city hospital. With the professional doctors, he’ll be fine.” I shoved her away and ran, blindly, to the hospital. The doctor there told me, “Mr. Elias withdrew all funds for the procedure. We can’t operate.” I collapsed. I called Sherry. Elias answered. “Ms. Sherry is currently in a deep meditation. Do not disturb her.” “You took my father’s surgery money! Give it back, you bastard!” I screamed into the phone. Elias sounded utterly detached. “The Enlightened is compassionate. Your father, if he had led a life of good deeds, would already be out of danger. The surgery is three hundred thousand dollars. That money can fund so much genuine charity. That’s enough virtue to save your father for the rest of his life. I will not return it. And all your bank accounts are frozen.” He hung up. I sat on the cold floor, watching the heart monitor flatline to a single, terrible line. I changed the past. I saved myself. But the core tragedy remains. Just as the finality of the loss consumed me, a voice cut through the sterile silence. “I’ve paid for Mr. Gabriel Senior’s surgery in full. Prepare the operating room immediately.” I looked up, dazed. A woman stood there, familiar yet unrecognizable. It was Andrea—Andrea—the rival who’d died five years ago. She was alive. Young Gabe had done it. My father was saved. I rushed to Andrea, my gratitude a torrent. She just smiled. “You should be thanking yourself, Gabriel. If you hadn’t funded me all those years ago, I wouldn’t be here today.” I watched over my father as he recovered. Whether it was the surgery or young Gabe’s altered choices, my father woke up mentally sound. He was lucid, not the drooling wreck I had known. But my mother’s death remained a fixed point. This meant my entanglement with Sherry was not over. Young Gabe contacted me again. He’d gotten his test scores. They were excellent. He was debating between the top American university—the one Sherry attended—or a study abroad program. The university is too close to her orbit. “Go abroad! You must study overseas! And never, ever come back!” I told him. If he missed Sherry entirely, the tragedy would be erased. Young Gabe promised that my parents were selling everything and moving the entire family overseas in one week. A week later, on the day my father was discharged, Sherry announced she wanted to visit him. I took her to the small shrine I had secretly built for my mother and father. But as we arrived, a construction crew was already dismantling it. Elias was leading them. I lunged forward, pushing the workers back. “What are you doing! My father is gone—can’t you let him rest!” Elias’s tone was indifferent. “Your father’s virtue was insufficient, Gabriel. I plan to convert this site into a public meditation center. It serves the community. A final act of virtue on his behalf.” Rage blinded me. I slapped him. Sherry instantly shoved me away. “Gabriel, have you lost your mind? Get out of here! This is not your place to cause trouble.” I slapped her too. Harder. “Sherry, I regret the day I saved you. I should have left you to those thugs in the alley!” Her eyes widened, shocked, a complex blend of confusion and a flicker of something ancient and terrible. Elias clutched his stinging face and cried out to her, “Darling, you promised you would always love me! He attacks me, and you do nothing? You lied! I’m leaving you!” Sherry’s brief moment of confusion evaporated, replaced by cold fury. She immediately ordered the guards to seize me. My father, just out of the hospital, saw the scene and went ballistic. He grabbed a nearby metal bar, swinging it wildly at Elias and Sherry. Sherry didn’t flinch. She simply pushed him. He stumbled, hitting the back of his head hard against a concrete headstone. Silence. Then a gurgling sound. I rushed to him, cradling his head. “Dad! Dad!” Sherry looked down at me, her expression a chilling disappointment. “Gabriel, I warned you not to make a scene. You brought this upon your father. You will never pay for the sin you’ve created.” Then the phone rang. Again. Young Gabe. “Our flight leaves in five minutes. I’ll call you when we land.” I smiled. A real, deep, satisfied smile. Sherry looked at me, her face clouded by fear. A construction worker suddenly shouted, “Ms. Sherry! This is an empty coffin! There’s no urn, no remains!” My heart soared. I managed to unlock the phone and search the news for my mother’s death. It was gone. Instead, an article popped up about a celebrated American businesswoman achieving a massive breakthrough in her overseas firm. The name: Eleanor Z. The knot in my chest dissolved. I looked up at Sherry, taking in her scarred eye, her frantic expression, and the dead man at my feet who was no longer my father. “Sherry,” I whispered, relief washing over me, “It’s finally over for us.” The world faded to black.

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I was with my boyfriend when I saw him. Asher Vance. The billionaire heir to the Vance empire. He sat high above everyone else, his gaze cold and detached. My boyfriend warned me to stay away. Apparently, Asher Vance hates “good girls” ever since one dumped him back in high school. That “good girl” was me. But later that night, in the room next to where my boyfriend was cheating on me, Asher trapped me against the bathroom vanity. His kisses trailed down to my most intimate places, making me tremble uncontrollably. He looked up, his fingers tracing my inner thigh, stopping dangerously close. “Did he ever kiss you here? If he did, I’ll go ruin him right now.” 1 The lighting in the club was dim and ambiguous. I unconsciously gripped the fabric of my dress, following nervously behind my boyfriend. This was David, my boyfriend of one month. Clean background, reliable personality, matching social status, stable job. He was the perfect marriage candidate, hand-picked by my parents after endless screening. And me? I lived by the rules. I always listened to my parents. So even though I didn’t love him, I followed their instructions to spend more time with David. I just didn’t expect David to bring me to a club tonight. My hair was up in a messy bun, and my simple white cotton dress looked completely out of place here. Anyone could tell it was my first time in a place like this. David sensed my discomfort and squeezed my hand reassuringly. “It’s okay, Lily. Just stick with me. I want you to meet some people; it’ll be good for us. I heard my boss might be here tonight.” I still wasn’t used to being intimate with David. But his palm was warm, and he was taking care of me. I suppressed the discomfort and let him lead me. “Okay, I’ll follow you.” The door to the VIP booth opened. There were so many people. But my gaze landed instantly on the figure in the center of the crowd. In the dim light, a man was lounging lazily on the wide leather sofa, his suit jacket unbuttoned, the ember of a cigarette glowing between his fingers. My heart skipped a beat without warning. Followed immediately by a tidal wave of panic. Asher Vance. The most dazzling figure from my high school days. And my ex-boyfriend. 2 My parents were both teachers. Their discipline was strict, bordering on harsh. So, no matter the occasion, I was known as the school’s resident “good girl.” Timid, boring, quiet enough to be forgotten. Someone like me shouldn’t have had anything to do with Asher Vance. He was rebellious, untamable, the school’s biggest troublemaker. But some people are born to stand at the top. Asher was devastatingly handsome, from a wealthy family, and never dropped out of the top ten in academics. To everyone else, he was the undisputed king of the school. Countless girls had crushes on him. I was just the most ordinary, dull one among them. By all accounts, we were from two different worlds. But one day, after a class dinner, we played Truth or Dare. I drew a Dare. 3 Someone dared me to confess to Asher, who was sitting at the next table. The instigator was the school’s most popular girl, Chloe. Rumor had it she had just been rejected by him. In front of everyone, Chloe had stopped Asher on his way to basketball practice, holding a love letter. Her cheeks were flushed pink. “Asher, I like you. Will you be my boyfriend?” Asher held the ball with one hand, his gaze sweeping over her lazily. “Sorry. Not interested in you.” Asher was a tough nut to crack; everyone knew it. He had the face of a player but zero interest in dating. News of Chloe’s rejection spread like wildfire, making her the school’s laughingstock. Now, she needed someone else to embarrass themselves to replace her as the joke. And she chose me. Soft, easy to bully. Chloe looked at me with haughty eyes. “It’s fine, Lily. Even if you fail, no one will laugh at you. After all, if someone like me got rejected, it’s totally normal for him to reject you too.” She pushed the Dare card toward me, her expression hardening. “Lily, you’re not going to be a sore loser, right?” Her tone was laced with a threat. I bit my lip and took the card. Chloe was scary. Forget it. I was a pushover anyway. It was just a rejection. Better to be embarrassed once than to be secretly targeted by Chloe later. So, I shuffled over to the table where the boys were sitting. I stopped right in front of Asher. 4 I felt everyone’s eyes on me. My face was burning like a furnace. I secretly pinched my palm, trying to stay calm. I took a deep breath, looking up with determination. But the moment I met those indifferent eyes, I panicked and looked down again. I stammered, “A-Asher, I-I’m Lily. I… I like you! Can… can you be my boyfriend? It’s okay if you say no…” I was shaking so hard I could barely finish a sentence. My voice got smaller and smaller until it was a whisper. The boys around him started jeering. “Yo, another one confessing to Asher!” “Haha, little sister, you’re done for. Asher hates this stuff lately.” Suddenly, Asher kicked the loudest guy’s chair. He clicked his tongue coldly. “Why are you scaring her? Did I ask you to speak for me?” The guy scrambled up, grinning apologetically, and shut his mouth. I was even more terrified. They said Asher was scary when he was angry. Did I annoy him? I looked like I was facing a firing squad, head down, waiting for the verdict. But the expected rejection didn’t come. Asher, who usually ignored everyone, stared at me quietly for a long time. He said, “Okay.” I was waving my hands frantically. “It’s okay, Asher, you can reject me…” Mid-sentence, I realized what he said. I looked up as if I’d seen a ghost. “You… you said okay?” The corner of Asher’s mouth lifted imperceptibly. The playful arrogance in his voice vanished, replaced by seriousness. “Yes. I said okay.”

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When I was fifteen, my father died in the line of duty saving a boy’s life. That boy was Caleb Davis. After the funeral, I moved into the Davis estate. With Caleb’s silent permission, I became his shadow. I followed him everywhere. Until the start of Senior Year, when I accidentally knocked over the acai bowl he’d bought for the beautiful new transfer student. For the first time ever, Caleb lost his temper with me. “Maya, your dad saved me, but my family has housed you for three years. We’re even. I don’t owe you anything.” He grabbed the girl’s hand and stormed off, leaving me to clean up the purple mess on the floor. I didn’t say a word. I wiped up the stains. Then I went to the guidance counselor’s office, took back my college application list, and silently crossed out Stanford. From that moment on, we were strangers. 1. After changing my college list, I hugged my AP Physics workbook and walked slowly back to homeroom. The bell hadn’t rung yet, and most students were catching up on sleep, heads on their desks. In the back corner, Caleb was leaning in close, tutoring Bella, the transfer student. Morning sunlight streamed through the blinds, illuminating their profiles. They looked perfect together. Quiet. Beautiful. My gaze drifted from Bella’s perfectly styled hair to the stain on her designer shirt. I had bumped into her earlier, spilling her breakfast. Caleb had immediately rushed her to the bathroom to clean it up. Thinking of his retreating back, the burn on my hand from the hot coffee I’d also spilled started to throb again. Crash. Someone stuck a foot out as I walked down the aisle. My stack of workbooks scattered across the linoleum floor. The noise startled the couple in the corner. Caleb looked up from the textbook, met my eyes for a second, and then looked back down. His best friend, sitting nearby, jeered. “Hey Caleb, looks like your shadow wants some physics help too.” It was Senior Year. I was top of the class in everything—except Physics. It was my Achilles’ heel. Before Bella transferred here, Caleb used to tutor me every morning before the bell. The quiet classroom filled with snickers. I pretended I didn’t hear them. I crouched down and started gathering the books. Maybe I looked pathetic, because Caleb frowned and started to stand up, as if to help. But just then, Bella, who was chewing on her pen cap, looped her arm through his. She seemed to notice me for the first time, flashing a bright, winning smile. “Hi Maya! Sorry, I’m hopeless at physics. Mr. Harrison put us in a study group together.” “Finders keepers,” she winked playfully. “I can’t let you steal him.” She stuck her tongue out, a faint blush on her cheeks. She was bubbly and gorgeous—the polar opposite of me, the quiet, brooding charity case. “Caleb,” she whispered, “I think I get this formula now. Can you explain the rest?” “Sure.” Caleb sat back down. He turned his head away, effectively dismissing me. The sunlight wrapped around them again, separating their world from mine in the shadows. He explained a complex concept. Bella looked confused. She rested her chin on her hand, tilting her head to stare at him. “Caleb, has anyone ever told you that you have really long eyelashes?” “Focus,” Caleb said, his voice cool. But he didn’t pull away. “Okay, okay, bossy.” She giggled, scooting her chair closer. I watched the scene for a second longer, clutching my workbook, then turned and walked away. Finders keepers… Funny. I remember Caleb whispering in my ear just last year: “Maya, from now on, can you only look at me?” 2. During lunch, the classroom was empty. I ate a sandwich while trying to solve a physics problem. Next to me sat an unopened takeout box. Sushi. It was getting warm. I had waited in line for forty minutes to buy it. But Bella said the cafeteria food was “gross,” so Caleb had taken her out to a bistro downtown. My sandwich tasted like cardboard. I couldn’t focus on the equations. “Stop crying. You look pathetic.” A hand with long, piano-player fingers tapped on my desk. A pack of tissues and a slice of strawberry shortcake slid into view. I looked up to see him pulling a gold medal out of his gym bag and tossing it onto my notebook. National Physics Olympiad. First Place. “Ethan? You’re back?” I grabbed a tissue and hastily wiped my face, shocked. Ethan was my lab partner in Sophomore year. He had transferred to the Gifted & Talented program for Physics and spent the last semester at a training camp at MIT. He was wearing a black hoodie, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing forearms that had definitely filled out since I last saw him. He looked older. sharper. “If I didn’t come back, Caleb would probably bully you to death,” he said, pulling out the chair next to me. “Starting today, I’m your tutor.” He snatched the workbook from under my hand, uncapped a red pen, and started aggressively grading my attempts. At the mention of Caleb’s name, my nose started to sting again. “No… you don’t have to.” Watching the red X’s multiply on the page, I felt a wave of shame. But Ethan was efficient. He finished grading and immediately grabbed a piece of scratch paper. “You’re using the wrong formula for kinetic energy here…” His voice was deep, clear, and steady. Unlike Caleb’s rigid, textbook style, Ethan’s logic jumped around creatively. In minutes, the paper was covered in his elegant handwriting. I couldn’t even argue. I had to focus just to keep up with his brain. By the time I finished correcting my mistakes, I looked up to see Ethan happily devouring the sushi I had bought for Caleb. I tried to remember our past. We weren’t that close, were we? I wasn’t sure. Maybe he was just being a good guy. 3. After evening study hall, I stood in the parking lot, waiting for Caleb. I didn’t want a ride home. I just needed my house key. I’d left it in his car that morning. From a distance, I saw him walking under the streetlights. He had one hand in his pocket, walking slowly. Bella was skipping beside him. She looked up at him, eyes sparkling. “I got a B on the quiz today! You owe me ice cream, Caleb.” Caleb looked cold, but he nodded. He never could say no to a girl who knew how to flirt. Last year, during the junior class hiking trip, I passed out from exhaustion halfway up the trail. Caleb had crouched in front of me. “Maya, just ask nicely. Beg a little, and I’ll carry you.” I stood there, stubborn and silent. Since my dad died, I didn’t know how to be soft. I didn’t know how to beg. He had sighed, laughing helplessly, and pulled me onto his back anyway. “You’re impossible,” he’d said. It was foggy and cold on the mountain that day. But his back was warm. It made me feel safe. “Yay! Caleb, you’re the best!” Bella’s cheer snapped me back to reality. I stepped out of the shadows. Caleb saw me and stopped. He fished the key out of his pocket. “Walk home. Don’t tell my mom about this.” Bella saw me and hid behind Caleb’s shoulder, feigning shyness, but flashed a smug grin when he wasn’t looking. “Okay.” I took the key, adjusted my backpack, and walked away. 4. When I got back to the Davis house, Mrs. Davis had hot cocoa waiting. She took my bag, looking behind me. She noticed the redness around my eyes. “Maya? Have you been crying? Why are you alone?” “Where’s Caleb? Did he leave you behind? Tell me, and I’ll ground him until he’s thirty!” Mrs. Davis was a gentle soul. She treated me like a daughter. “It’s nothing, Mrs. Davis. My grades just slipped a little.” I sat at the island, sipping the cocoa. It was warm and sweet, melting the ice in my chest. I looked at her kind face and made a decision. “Mrs. Davis… I want to apply for a room in the campus dorms.” Our private prep school offered boarding for students who needed to focus. “Exams are coming up. I need to cut down on commute time.” Mrs. Davis paused. She checked the calendar on her phone. She looked reluctant, but she nodded. She touched my hair. “Your scores are fine, honey. You and Caleb are going to Stanford together. Don’t stress so much.” Stanford. Caleb talked about it constantly. We’re going to Stanford. I swallowed a mouthful of cocoa, tasting the lie. “Mrs. Davis… can you not tell Caleb I’m moving out?” I looked serious. She assumed it was a teenage spat. After all, for three years, everyone knew Caleb was my world. “Alright, alright. If he finds out you’re leaving, he’ll throw a fit.” She took my empty mug to the sink. Then I heard her phone dialing Caleb, telling him to get his butt home.

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On Christmas Eve, my father was named one of the ten most inspirational people of the year. He’d donated the entirety of his $300,000 Hero of the Year prize to the son of a fallen comrade. The host asked him, “Captain Kane, we heard your own daughter is also seriously ill. Wasn’t this money her last hope?” My father hugged the boy, Jake, and faced the entire nation with tears in his eyes. “It’s true that my daughter needs this money to live,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “But Jake… Jake doesn’t have a father anymore. My daughter, at least she still has me. I know she’ll understand and support my decision.” On the television, thunderous applause elevated him to sainthood. Meanwhile, in the cold sterility of my hospital isolation ward, I stared at the bright red “BALANCE INSUFFICIENT: MEDICATION HALTED” stamp on my bill and calmly dialed the number for a national news outlet. “Want to see the other side of a hero?” I asked. “I’ll give you a live feed.” … The head nurse came in just as I was finishing the last of my nutrient drip. I pulled the needle out, and a single bead of blood welled up. I pressed it with a cotton swab. “Anna, your mother’s not answering her phone. Where’s your father? If this bill isn’t paid today, we’ll have no choice but to stop your treatment.” I managed a weak smile, my lips cracked and dry, and pointed to the television mounted on the wall. “He’s a little busy. It’s a live national broadcast.” On the screen, my father, David Kane, was holding Jake, telling the cameras his three-year story of atonement. He painted Jake as a fragile, sensitive soul who needed the world’s protection. And me? In his story, I was the understanding, strong daughter who supported her father’s every noble decision. The nurse followed my gaze and froze. “Captain Kane? The hero? That’s your father?” “The one and only. An inspiration to the nation.” She seemed star-struck, forgetting about the bill for a moment. “Your father is a hero. That’s incredible,” she said, trying to comfort me. “You have to be understanding. The pressure on him must be immense. Look how good he is to his comrade’s son. He must be even better to you.” I didn’t say a word. I just pushed the red overdue bill from my nightstand toward her. “Balance insufficient. Seventy-eight thousand dollars in arrears. If the money for the specialty drug doesn’t arrive today, the infection will cause multiple organ failure.” The nurse picked up the bill, glanced at the television where the eloquent hero was speaking, and then back at me. The world probably seemed surreal to her in that moment. “Doesn’t… doesn’t he know?” “He knows.” How could he not? An hour ago, my mother had called him over thirty times. He didn’t answer once. I sent him one last text. 【Dad, I can’t hold on. The doctors say if I don’t get the medicine, I’m going to die.】 He finally replied. 【Anna, I’m on the show. So proud of how understanding you are. The whole country is praising you. Hang in there.】 I held the phone up for the nurse to see. “That’s… that’s impossible! He’s a hero!” “Yes,” I repeated. “He’s a hero. And a hero’s daughter should make way for her father’s honor, right?” On the TV, the host presented a giant red envelope. “Captain Kane, this is your $300,000 Hero of the Year prize! We all know how crucial this money is for your daughter’s illness!” My father didn’t take it. He pushed Jake forward and announced, “I’ve decided to donate the entire sum to the son of my fallen brother, Captain Miller!” The studio erupted. My father held Jake, crying like a child. Jake wiped away his own tears, moved by the gesture. It was a portrait of profound fatherly love, a moment to inspire a nation. The nurse stared at me, her mouth opening and closing, but no words came out. I smiled at her. Then, right in front of her, I picked up the phone from under my pillow. Unlock. Dial. The call connected almost immediately. A man’s voice, irritated at being disturbed on Christmas Eve, answered. “Hello? Who is this? Do you know what number you’ve called?” “Hello, is this Mr. Davis from ‘The Davis Report’?” “This is he. Do you have a news tip?” His professional instincts kicked in. I looked at my father’s glorious, noble face on the screen. “Want to see the other side of the hero, David Kane?” “I’ll give you a live feed.” Three years ago, I wasn’t this ghost. I had just been diagnosed with stage-two leukemia. The doctors said the cure rate was high. My mother held my hand, sobbing so hard she could barely breathe. My father was the calm one, patting her back. “Don’t be afraid. I’m here. It’s just money, right? I’ll work myself to the bone to earn it. We will cure our Anna.” And for that first year, he did. He took every shift, every dangerous call, earning several commendations. Until the chemical plant fire. My father was the first commander on the scene. Captain Miller was his second. When the explosion happened, my father ordered Captain Miller’s team to brace a collapsing support wall while he ran to save a child crying in a corner. He saved the child. Captain Miller never came out. From that day on, everything changed. My father became a hero who had saved a life, but in his own mind, he became the sinner who had killed his best friend. He started having sleepless nights, clutching Captain Miller’s photo and weeping. Then, he channeled all that guilt into a bottomless well of compensation for Jake. Jake. The child he’d rescued. Captain Miller’s only son. I remember it so clearly. The doctor told us they’d found a bone marrow match in a neighboring city. All my dad had to do was go handle the paperwork, and the transplant could be scheduled for the following week. It was my best chance at a full recovery. My mom was so excited she could barely speak. But my dad was silent. “What’s wrong, David? Aren’t you happy?” my mom asked, confused. “It’s not that… Jake’s school has a camping trip tomorrow. To the beach. He’s been wanting me to go with him. He just lost his dad. I promised Miller I’d take care of his boy.” The smile froze on my mother’s face. “A camping trip can happen anytime! Is playing with him more important than your daughter’s life?” “How can you say that! Anna’s illness can wait, but Jake’s trauma can’t! He needs me more than she does right now! Don’t you understand?” “No, I don’t! All I know is that my daughter is dying!” my mom screamed, breaking down. “Can’t you just try to see it from my side!” My father punched the wall, plaster dust showering down. “I owe Miller a life! Every time I close my eyes, I see him crushed under that wall! If I don’t do right by his son, I’ll never be able to live with myself!” It was the first time I’d ever seen him so hysterical. In the end, he went. He drove off with a car full of snacks and a brand-new tent to watch the sunrise with Jake. My mom cried in the hospital hallway all night. A week later, the hospital informed us that the bone marrow donor had backed out for family reasons. The perfect window for my transplant had closed. My dad came back from the beach, tanned and wearing a seashell necklace. He held it out to me, his face a mask of apology. “Anna, I’m so sorry I couldn’t be here. Look, Jake made this for you. Isn’t it pretty?” I didn’t take it. I just asked him, “Dad, if it were Jake lying here in this bed, would you have gone camping with me?” He stared at me, stunned, and then his face contorted with rage. “How can you even think that? You’re being so selfish!” From that day on, my condition began to worsen. And the label of “selfish” was stuck firmly to me. The worst fight was over a house. My constant chemotherapy had drained our savings. My mother, an accountant at a large corporation for thirty years, had managed to save $500,000, a nest egg for my eventual bone marrow transplant. One day, Captain Miller’s widow, Mrs. Miller, showed up at our door, looking hesitant. “David, I’m so sorry to bother you again.” My dad jumped to his feet. “Sarah, what is it? Is something wrong with Jake?” “Oh no, it’s about his schooling. He’s starting middle school soon, and the school in our district isn’t very good. I was just thinking… maybe… maybe we could get him a place downtown, in a better school district.” My dad immediately puffed out his chest. “Don’t you worry about a thing, Sarah. Leave it to me!” Mrs. Miller’s face lit up. “I knew I could count on you, David! I’ve already looked at a condo in the Academy Square building. It’s just a bit pricey. The down payment… it’s $500,000.” My mother was in the kitchen cutting fruit. Her hand slipped, and the knife clattered to the floor. She rushed out, blocking my father’s path. “David! Are you insane? Where are we going to get that kind of money?” “What do you mean?” he shot back, glaring at her. “You have it.” My mother stared at him in disbelief. “That’s Anna’s life savings! For her treatment! Don’t you dare touch it!” “Why are you so selfish!” he roared. “Anna’s treatment can be managed! Jake’s education is critical! What if we ruin his entire future? How could I face Miller in the afterlife?” “Face him? You’re going to use your own daughter’s life to face him?” My mother was shaking with rage. “He’s not a stranger! He’s Miller’s only son! God, you are such a heartless woman! Miller died for me! What’s wrong with me buying his son a house? I owe him this!” “You don’t owe him! It was an accident! Stop using that as an excuse!” “You don’t know anything!” He shoved my mom aside, stormed into the bedroom, and came out with the bank card that held the $500,000. My mother scrambled up from the floor and clung to his leg, sobbing. “David, I’m begging you, you can’t take this money! Anna will die! She’ll really die!” “Die, die, die! That’s all you ever say, like you’re cursing her!” He kicked her away. “Let me tell you something. Even if something does happen to Anna, that would be her fate! She should consider it an honor to help her father atone!” He slammed the door and was gone. Mrs. Miller, who had been standing in the doorway, stepped inside to help my mother up. “Now, now, don’t blame David. He’s just trying to do right by us. Don’t worry, when my Jake grows up and makes something of himself, he’ll never forget what you did for him.” And so, Jake got his condo in the best school district in the city. And I, without the funds for more effective treatment, went from stage two to stage four. The doctor said my remaining time was to be measured in months. The day my father came home with the deed to Jake’s new home, my mother asked for a divorce. He just tore the papers into shreds. “Don’t be ridiculous. Think of my reputation. David Kane can’t have ‘divorced’ next to his name.” On Christmas Eve, my fever spiked, and a severe lung infection set in. The doctor issued a critical condition notice. A drug called Gleevec was my only chance, but a single injection cost $20,000, and the follow-up treatment was a bottomless pit of expenses. My mother knelt in the doctor’s office, her cries echoing in the hallway. “Doctor, please, just give us a few more days! Her father’s prize money is coming through! It’s $300,000! It’s more than enough!” That prize was my last hope.

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Married for three years, Asher Sterling had never touched me. I put on a lace nightgown, faked hickeys on my neck, and took a photo of myself pretending to sleep from a third-person perspective. “Bro, she smells amazing. Hurry up and divorce her, give her to me, okay?” I guessed that receiving this anonymous message would make Asher disgusted and furious, finally discarding me—his substitute for my sister—like trash. I thought this time, I could finally divorce him. Chapter 1 My sister was vacationing in Europe, celebrating her third wedding anniversary. She asked what gift I wanted. I asked for an unregistered overseas SIM card. Clutching the SIM card, standing in the empty hotel room, I let out a weary sigh. Then, I put on the sheer lace nightgown I bought specifically for this plan. Looking in the mirror, I created ambiguous hickeys on my collarbone and neck using makeup. The marks were scattered, looking as if a man consumed by desire had aggressively and possessively claimed me. One of the straps of the nightgown was “torn” by the “man.” Finally, looking in the mirror, I smudged my lipstick until it was messy. Then I sat on the bed and messed up the other side to make it look like someone had slept there. I closed my eyes heavily. Camera on timer, third-person perspective. Three, two, one. The woman in the photo looked like she had just been through a passionate session, sleeping defenselessly. I stared at it for a long time. My mind involuntarily recalled Asher Sterling’s notorious reputation in the business world. A smiling tiger. A capitalist who eats people without spitting out the bones. But what I was most familiar with was his face—always cold and heartless. Although beautiful, all his affection was given only to my sister. I prepared for the worst. Even if Asher had no feelings for me, a man would find it hard to tolerate a woman’s betrayal. He would likely seek revenge. But ultimately, he would discard me in disgust and anger, divorcing me. As long as we could divorce. I just wanted a divorce. I closed my eyes and pressed send. On the phone screen, the text was casual and provocative— “Bro, she smells amazing. Hurry up and divorce her, give her to me, okay?” Attached was that photo. Sent successfully. Chapter 2 Less than two seconds later. I received a reply. Asher: “Who are you?” I changed my clothes slowly. Almost sadistically, I prolonged the reply time. Was he exploding with rage? Did he want to skin the anonymous sender alive? The favored son of heaven, flawless since childhood, was now having his emotions controlled by someone else—someone he had always held in the palm of his hand. Three years of dullness and pain found a sliver of pleasure today. I changed into my regular clothes. In the interval, Asher sent two more messages. “Don’t use this clumsy AI face swap. State your purpose.” “I advise you to come clean. I might leave your corpse intact.” I chuckled. “Mr. Sterling, is it AI face swap? Ask your wife, won’t you know?” “The hickeys on my baby’s neck won’t fade that fast (^v^).” I dared to say this because I knew Asher was abroad negotiating a very important deal. He wouldn’t be back for at least half a month. The next instant, my own phone suddenly rang. I jumped. The ringtone blared wildly. It was Asher calling. I pursed my lips, staring at the phone until the call disconnected. But soon, the screen lit up again. Asher was calling relentlessly. I understood. This time, he was truly pissed off. My heart pounded wildly. I felt like I was walking a tightrope, playing a deadly game. I sent: “Mr. Sterling, stop calling. We did it five times; your wife is exhausted and asleep.” The calls finally stopped. My phone fell into dead silence. Using that anonymous SIM card, I sent: “I didn’t mean to break you up, Mr. Sterling. Your wife and I truly love each other. Be the bigger man, divorce her early, and let me have her. Otherwise, if word gets out you’re wearing a green hat, you’ll lose face.” Asher didn’t reply again. Unsettled, I threw the torn lace nightgown into the trash, checked out, and returned to the villa. The maids were cleaning. Everything was incredibly normal, peaceful as if nothing had happened. Washed up, went to sleep. In the early morning, when the sky was brightening, I groggily heard the roar of an engine and the screech of tires outside the window. Before I could react and open my eyes in panic, there was a knock on the bedroom door. “Hazel, open the door.” That voice was deep and cold, the tone forced into steadiness, revealing only a hint of restless anxiety. I was fully awake, like a bucket of cold water had been poured over me, freezing me to the bone. It was Asher. Chapter 3 I was in total disarray. How could he be back? To him, I was just an insignificant substitute tool. The knock sounded again. Still three times, extreme restraint. He spoke slightly faster: “Hazel, I want to see you.” I sat up. I couldn’t panic. I couldn’t give myself away. I took a deep breath, feigning sleepiness but forcing calm: “Mr. Sterling, I… need to use the bathroom and shower. Please wait a moment.” I ran into the bathroom, turned on the showerhead, and stared dead at the marks on my neck. These were pinched by me using a bottle mouth yesterday. For realism, I was ruthless. Forget fading; foundation probably wouldn’t even cover them! But I had to cover them. Because the first reaction of a cheater would definitely be to lie and cover up. Asher was sharp. I had to commit to the act. I wet my hair to fake post-shower wetness, then changed into a high-necked black dress, covering even my arms tightly. The half-hickey peeking out from the collar, I carefully covered with a band-aid. Looking in the mirror, I practiced a guilty yet feigning-calm expression. Disgusting enough, right? Asher would surely propose divorce in disgust without hesitation and tell me to get out. I opened the door. Asher sat on the sofa, brows furrowed, eyes closed in rest. His face was a bit pale, with a faint stubble on his chin. He forgot his watch; his cufflinks were missing too. One hand gripped his phone tightly; the other hung over the armrest, four deep wounds on the knuckles. As if he had punched something hard, more than once. But he didn’t care, not even applying a band-aid. “Mr. Sterling, why are you back?” Asher opened his eyes to look at me, pupils dark and heavy. He pushed himself up from the sofa. The man who was anxious just moments ago now walked towards me incredibly slowly. I subconsciously took a step back but was grabbed by the arm and pulled back. He lowered his eyes to look at my neck, pupils constricting bit by bit. I forced a smile. “Is something wrong?” He didn’t answer. He just used his cold fingers, two fingers together, slowly hovering over the band-aid. It seemed like the next second he would tear it off violently, tearing away all my lies, and then furiously, humiliated, tear up our fake marriage certificate. My body started to tremble. I closed my eyes, waiting to be exposed. But his index and middle fingers just lightly rested on the band-aid. Asher asked calmly, “How did you get this?” I deliberately dodged his gaze. “Just… accidentally got scratched by a book page yesterday.” “Book page…” Asher blinked very slowly. “What did you do last night?” His fingertips probed into my collar. Just a forceful pull, and he could see the hickeys hidden deep under the fabric. I swallowed. “Went out for a hair treatment last night.” Asher’s breathing became heavy. He looked at me expressionlessly. For a moment, I had the illusion he would devour me alive. His fingers pulled at the collar. I stumbled along the force, almost falling into his arms. I quickly extended my arms to block his chest. His palm wrapped around my lower back, like an iron hoop, tightening bit by bit. That suppressed anger seemed to be vented bit by bit in this way. My strength couldn’t match his; my resisting arms started to weaken. Asher approached me inch by inch. “Mr. Sterling, don’t.” I said tremblingly. Although I didn’t know what he wanted to do, intuition told me it would be dangerous. My mind went blank, voice shaking, begging incoherently. Three or four seconds passed. He actually slowly retracted his fingers, clenching them into a fist. His face turned livid, corners of his mouth tight. Only then did I realize what I had just said—”I’m scared, don’t touch me, please.” “I will assign two bodyguards to you. They will follow you when you go out to ensure your safety,” Asher announced flatly. Then he turned and left without hesitation. It wasn’t until the familiar engine sound came from outside that I woke up from the dream— He wasn’t pursuing it? How was that possible?! Chapter 4 I was monitored very strictly, with almost no chance to take out that phone to contact anyone. Asher, far away abroad, somehow wrapped up his business trip in just five days this time and rushed back. After he returned, the surveillance on me relaxed a lot. I finally had the chance to pick up the phone again. I sent a message using that anonymous SIM card. “Bro, you’re a sore loser. Even if she cheated, just divorce her, right? Why lock your wife up?” Asher replied very quickly: “She didn’t cheat. I trust her. Hazel isn’t someone who would do these things.” I stared blankly at this text. What did he mean? Although I indeed resorted to this because I couldn’t bring myself to actually cheat with a man, how did Asher know what kind of person I was so well? He was clearly… clearly so indifferent to me. I risked everything, ignoring anything else, adding fuel to the fire: “Mr. Sterling, you won’t know your wife better than I do.” “She has three moles. On her ribs, next to her navel, and… Every time I connect them with my finger and slide down, she shivers uncontrollably.” “But you are her husband. Married for three years, you should have known this long ago, right?” The last sentence was full of sarcasm because in these three years, Asher had never touched me. Crash! Just after I sent it, a loud smashing sound came from upstairs. It came from Asher’s study. I shivered, hurriedly hiding the spare phone. The smashing sound rang out a few more times. Then, I heard Asher going downstairs. He instructed the housekeeper wearily: “Find someone to clean up. The computer needs replacing.” Footsteps approached. I trembled in fear, hallucinating that the next thing he would tear apart was me. I shrank into the quilt like an escape, pretending to sleep. My door lock had been broken inexplicably since he came back. Asher gently turned the handle. Seeing the darkness in the bedroom, he didn’t speak. In the dead silence, his violent panting and unsettled, chaotic heartbeat were obvious to the extreme. It even made me suspect if Asher could hear my racing heart too. He got closer. Closer. I squeezed my eyes shut. Asher didn’t shake me awake, didn’t strangle me in a thunderous rage demanding an explanation. He stood by my bed. Even though I didn’t open my eyes, I could still feel a sharp, scorching gaze deeply nailed to my lower abdomen, seeming to hesitate whether to confirm. Don’t shake. Keep breathing steady. Act! I remained motionless. Suddenly, I felt the mattress beside me dip. Asher slowly lay down beside me. That cold yet scalding gaze still congealed on me. I gritted my teeth. Nothing ventured, nothing gained. I’ll light another fire for him! As if falling into a sweet dream, I groggily turned over and arched my head into his embrace. Asher paused. That fierce gaze suddenly softened. “Hubby…” I murmured. Asher stiffened for a second. I relentlessly wrapped my arms around him, using the sweetest voice of my life, “Hubby, hold me.” I thought he would be angry, maybe even slap me awake. Because I had never called him hubby. He knew I was calling someone else. But— He glared at me, gripping my arm hard, trembling with rage. But the next instant, hearing my muffled groan, he forced himself to relax his grip. Asher cupped the back of my head, making me hug him tighter. He kissed my hair. Then he stroked my back from top to bottom with his palm, a clumsy yet gentle gesture to soothe me to sleep. He whispered: “Mn. Hubby holds.” I froze. This eerie calm… he was absolutely insane. Asher was brilliantly smart. He should have realized I cheated the moment he received the first text. To avoid a scandal, he should have drafted a divorce agreement ASAP and forced me out with nothing. But he denied it again and again. Biasedly, crazily, stubbornly denied that I slept with someone else. He even snatched the endearments meant for someone else, like self-hypnosis. What on earth was he doing? Thinking I had stopped murmuring and fallen into a deeper sleep… He silently lifted the quilt. His finger pressed against my ribs, then slid gently down in the direction of that mole. A light touch. Fingertips cool. Extremely fast. So fast I didn’t react before I suddenly curled up, shaking uncontrollably. I made up that text! Even I didn’t know that having my moles touched by someone would feel like an electric shock! I trembled wretchedly, unable to keep up the act, immediately wanting to turn and dodge. Asher stopped stroking. He wrapped his arms around me completely, forcing me to press against him face to face. Tight, firm, like a lover’s lock. Pressing against my chest, I could feel the heartbeat under his ribs. Chaotic, crazy, powerful. He whispered softly: “You are mine. I am yours.” He was truly mad. Abandoning all rational and calm logic and weighing of pros and cons, he had become a beast. Savage, direct, possessing without compromise. As if dragging me into his lair meant I could only belong to him. Asher objectified me, and objectified himself. We weren’t humans with fragile skin and sensitive souls, but two lifeless iron locks. Click. Locked together. Stubbornly believing I was his, and he was mine. He was truly insane. I opened my eyes in the dark. Between the burning chest and arms, I stared complexly at Asher’s sleeping face. Until my eyelids grew heavy, and I fell asleep. In the dream, the me from three years ago cried and begged Asher to let me go. He looked at me coldly. Until I shouted: “I don’t owe you anything! You have no reason to lock me up!” Only then did he step back. After a full minute of silence, he looked up. “You owe me. Your sister ran away and ruined the engagement, so you have to pay me back with your whole life. I won’t let you go.” I collapsed on the ground then, touching the face similar to my sister’s, finally understanding. He wouldn’t let me go even in death because he treated me as my sister’s substitute. Three years passed like this, bitter and unbearable. When I opened my eyes, Asher had already left. The bed beside me was smooth and clean, as if no one had been there.

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I transmigrated into a rotten “white moonlight” character, and the billionaire heir is using the heroine to humiliate me. “One piece of clothing, one million dollars.” I thought for a few seconds. Then I swiftly took off my dress. Chapter 1 As consciousness returned, a voice reached my ears. “Stay with me for one night, one million.” I looked toward the sound. Is that… Lucas? I wasn’t quite sure. Lucas had always been smiley, looking obedient and sweet. But the person in front of me was more mature and vicious than the Lucas in my memory. Although he was smiling, it carried undisguised malice. I frowned, “Lucas?” Lucas chuckled lightly, “What, unwilling?” Just as I was about to speak, a barrage of comments suddenly appeared before my eyes. [Even so, isn’t Lucas going a bit too far?] [? Is the commenter above a saint? This is the vicious female supporting character we’re talking about, she’s harmed the heroine countless times.] [Did you forget? Luna faked depression, always finding excuses to lure the male leads away.] [Luckily the male leads finally saw Luna’s true colors. Poor baby Chloe, that white lotus harmed her so much in the past few years.] [? Don’t be so misogynistic. Even if the female supporting character is vicious, she shouldn’t be humiliated like this] [Here we go again, once you dislike a female character, it’s misogyny warning!] [Confirmed, commenter above is misogynistic.] [Lol, is this some misogyny loop?] The string of comments hurt my eyes. A lot of unfamiliar memories crowded into my brain. I gathered my thoughts and sorted out valid information from the comments and memories. I transmigrated. Ten years into the future. I am the vicious female supporting character in this reverse harem novel. Originally the “white moonlight”—the first love—of this group of wealthy heirs. But my family went bankrupt, parents died. And because of jealousy towards the heroine, targeting her everywhere, I was sanctioned by this group of heirs. The current me is also suffering from a terminal illness and about to go offline. To survive, I hoped to borrow money based on past affections. As a result, the male leads used this to vent anger for the heroine and humiliate me. I lowered my eyes. So that’s it. So, my family went bankrupt. No wonder Lucas dared to treat me like this. Seeing my silence, Lucas raised an eyebrow. He cupped his face, pretending to be understanding, “How about this.” He seemed to be thinking seriously, “Take off one piece of clothing, one million.” “How about it, good deal, right?” Lucas leaned back on the sofa, winking at me, looking as if he had made a huge concession for me. Beside him, Ethan frowned, but still didn’t speak. Xavier maintained an attitude of indifference from beginning to end. Others in the private room looked playful. I wasn’t angry either. My brain was thinking fast. I only have two days’ worth of medicine left, and currently only twenty thousand dollars on me. Surgery fees are far from enough. Post-op maintenance is an even bigger sum. But I don’t want to die yet. I looked down. I was only wearing a white dress. Without hesitation, I decisively grabbed the hem of the dress, and from bottom to top, swiftly took off the dress. Chapter 2 It seemed no one expected me to really do it. The smile on Lucas’s face froze, eyes widening. Ethan frowned and turned his head away. Others in the private room, some whistled, some whispered. The comments were also shocked. [WTF, why is it censored? Did the female supporting character really strip?] [Why can’t I, a noble VIP member, see this!] [Is the female supporting character this brave] [Oh my god, Luna is so shameless] [Does she have no shame? Rushing to be cheap] [? Commenter above, go see a brain doctor if your brain is broken, don’t talk out of your ass here] I ignored the bloodbath in the comments and didn’t care about the reactions of the people present. Why should I be ashamed? The ones who should be ashamed are the men who proposed stripping and stuffing things. Not the women forced into submission. I looked at Lucas calmly. Lucas’s gaze followed my face down, and when it touched my chest, he retracted it abruptly as if burned. Lucas turned his head, gritting his teeth, “Sister Luna is truly extraordinary now.” I didn’t care about his sarcasm, “Give me the money.” Lucas choked, as if laughing in anger, turning to glare at me, “What if I don’t?” Lucas looked at me provocatively with a rogue expression of “what can you do to me”. I tilted my head, “You went back on your word, right?” “Yes.” Lucas looked leisurely, not dodging my gaze anymore, staring straight at me. I bent down, picked up the dress on the floor and put it back on. Then, under Lucas’s strange gaze, I walked in front of him. I reached out quickly, picked up the wine bottle on the table, smash, and slammed it hard on Lucas’s head. Because of my illness, my strength wasn’t great, but it still smashed Lucas’s head full of wine and blood. Lucas screamed, before he could react. I took the broken bottle, leaned forward, and knelt on Lucas. The sharp broken bottle pressed against the carotid artery on Lucas’s neck. Only then did everyone react, screaming in unison, threats, intimidation. I acted as if I heard nothing. Just kneeling on Lucas, pressing hard against his neck. I said calmly, “Transfer the money, one million.” Lucas’s Adam’s apple rolled. Blood ran down his forehead past the corner of his eye, a patch of crimson. Except for the initial surprise, Lucas had clearly recovered now. There was no fear of life threat in his eyes, instead, excitement. Lucas tilted his neck back, lips bright red, opening and closing, “Sister Luna is a bit different today.” I ignored him, just applied slight pressure on my hand. Ethan spoke from the side, “Luna Solis, what trick are you playing again.” Ethan counted as my childhood friend. Same school since kindergarten. Ethan had always been cool and aloof, pretending to keep strangers away. To see him panic, I played tricks on him quite a bit. Only in front of me did Ethan show the liveliness of a teenager. Now, Ethan’s face was that cold dead look again. Chapter 3 I tilted my head, looked at Ethan steadily, then said, “None of your damn business.” Ethan frowned instantly, “You’re a girl, why is your mouth full of profanity.” I continued, “None of your damn business.” Ethan’s icy face twisted for a moment, turned his head away and stopped looking at me, muttering, “I think you’re really crazy.” I repeated like a robot, “None of your damn business.” Ethan’s face darkened, silently moved his butt, sitting far away from me. “Pfft.” Lucas laughed out loud, trembling all over. His neck rubbed against the sharp edge, blood oozing out. But Lucas didn’t care, still laughing. Until he laughed enough, he looked at me again. Lucas’s eyes were teary, looking at me now, he had that obedient and稚 tender look from memory. I loosened my hand slightly. Lucas said, “I can’t transfer money like this.” Lucas blinked innocently, acting helpless. I reached directly into Lucas’s pants pocket. This idiot Lucas, groaned for some unknown reason. A very weird sound. Full of flirtatious energy. I took out Lucas’s phone and held it in front of him. Lucas took it, after some operation, a notification sound came from my bag not far away. Only then did I let go, just about to get up from Lucas. Lucas suddenly reached out, wrapped his arm around my waist, and pressed me into his embrace. I subconsciously raised my hand, stabbing the bottle towards Lucas. But my hands were twisted behind my back by Lucas. I was forced to lean into Lucas’s arms. Lucas laughed until his chest shook. I opened my mouth and bit the full pectoral muscle pressed against my lips. Bit hard, didn’t let go. Bit until a bloody taste spread in my mouth. Obviously, Lucas’s pectoral muscle was bitten broken by me. I wanted to use this to make Lucas let go. But this guy Lucas, seemed unafraid of pain. Squeezed out that weird flirtatious groan from his throat again. The thing sitting under my leg also felt hard. Just at this moment, the private room door was pushed open, and a slender and frail figure stood outside. The comments scrolled wildly. [Ahhh, baby Chloe is here!] [Daughter is so good and soft! Mama loves you] [Lucas, this unfaithful man! I announce Lucas withdraws from the male lead candidates!] [I saw it just now, it was Xavier who texted Chloe to come. Tsk tsk, such a scheming man] [Lol, unscrupulous means to get the wife] [Wait, when is this female supporting character going offline? Such an eyesore] [? Didn’t Chloe not establish relationships with the male leads yet? Why are the comments acting like she’s the official wife beating the mistress?] [? Is the commenter above sick? Criticizing the heroine again? Clearly wavering between three male leads, swaying between heroine and female supporting character.] [Agreed, the three male leads are the real cheap ones.] Chapter 4 Seeing the scene inside the private room, Chloe’s eyes turned red, on the verge of tears, “Lucas, you, how could you…” “Why are you with her…” Chloe’s face was pale, tottering like a fragile white flower, a miserable appearance of fragility, indignation, and deep blow. I let go of my mouth and started struggling hard. But after a while, I was panting. A sick body is really powerless. I tried to reason, “Chloe is here.” But Lucas didn’t even look at Chloe at the door. I was very puzzled. This group of people, didn’t they like the heroine very much? Jealous for the heroine, humiliating and taking revenge on me for the heroine. Now that the heroine is here, why this indifferent look again. Chloe’s face turned even paler, seeing Lucas ignoring her, she turned and ran away crying. Ethan got up to chase. Passing by me and Lucas, he glanced at me. “Luna, is this your method?” “You clearly know Chloe likes Lucas.” “I thought you had truly repented.” Ethan was extremely disappointed, said no more, and chased after Chloe. Me: … Idiot. I struggled again, this time successfully. Lucas let go smilingly. His lips were rosy. Paired with the blood on his forehead and corner of his eye, and wet hair, he looked somewhat like a gorgeous and creepy female ghost. This brat Lucas, I have to admit, is very pretty. A delicate little princess since childhood. Even slightly better than me. I glanced at him, “Need help calling 911?” Lucas shook his head, still grinning, “Doesn’t hurt, Sister Luna.” I ignored him, picked up my bag and walked out.

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1 I took in my best friend, Sophie. She was homeless, with a history of self-harm, and I couldn’t just leave her on the street. Liam, my boyfriend, was dead set against it. In his eyes, our life together—our private world for two—was infinitely more important than Sophie’s survival. But after endless pleading on my part, he finally caved. Once Sophie moved in, the two of them were the picture of caution. They practically had “KEEP YOUR DISTANCE” tattooed on their foreheads, avoiding any possibility of being alone together. But Sophie stayed for six months. And six months is long enough to change a person. It was long enough for Liam to decorate our apartment with a sea of flowers and balloons to celebrate my best friend’s birthday while I was away on a business trip. It was long enough to make me, road-weary and exhausted from rescheduling my flight just to get home to him, look like a complete and utter fool. I tore through the room, popping balloons with my fingernails, smashing vases of flowers, reducing their carefully crafted celebration to ruins. All I got from Liam was a cold, hard command. “Enough, Audrey! She has depression. You can’t provoke her like this.” I stared at them, my world tilting on its axis. One was the man I was supposed to marry. The other, my best friend of fourteen years. And standing before them, I was the idiot who hadn’t seen a thing. … “What are you doing?” Liam sat on the edge of our bed, his voice tight with restraint as he watched me tear our bedroom apart. “Oh, just counting the condoms,” I said, my voice unnervingly light. “Making sure none are missing.” “One… two… three…” The only sounds in the silent room were my own neurotic counting and the ragged, suppressed breaths coming from Liam. “Audrey, I’m going to explain this one last time,” he ground out. “I was about to leave for work today when I saw Sophie. She was in a daze, about to swallow a handful of pills. I did something to distract her, to keep your friend from ending up in the ER.” “All I did was celebrate her birthday with her. That’s it! Nothing else happened. No lines were crossed. Do you understand me?!” Is that so? I stopped my frantic search and asked softly, “You didn’t want to, or you just didn’t get the chance?” “If I hadn’t changed my flight, if I hadn’t come back early… would you two be in our bed right now?” Liam shot to his feet. He towered over me, his presence a heavy, suffocating weight. “There are no ‘what ifs’,” he said, each word a block of ice. “Audrey, don’t paint us with such a filthy brush.” I stared at him, the tears I’d been holding back for hours finally spilling over, hot and bitter. But this time, there was no familiar look of heartache on his face, no rush to apologize. He just turned away, his expression cold as stone. Our relationship had always been so solid. Six years together, and I could count the number of fights we’d had on one hand. And every single time, he was the first to give in. But today, he was here, screaming at me, tearing me apart… for my friend. “You two make me sick,” I spat. He let out a short, humorless laugh, as if I’d told a joke. “Sick? Did we do something so shameful? Audrey, what the hell do you want from me? Haven’t you vented enough since you got back? It’s been six hours, from six to midnight, all over some paranoid fantasy in your head! When will it end?!” It will never end. The image of what I saw when I opened that door was seared into my mind, a nauseating lump in my throat. The lights were dim, romantic. They were sitting shoulder-to-shoulder, the wall behind them adorned with a heart-shaped collage of roses and balloons spelling out “HAPPY BIRTHDAY.” Sophie’s eyes were closed as she made a wish, a ridiculous paper crown perched on her head. And my boyfriend, my Liam, was staring at her, his gaze unwavering, a soft, gentle smile playing on his lips. How was I supposed to believe that was nothing? The front door slammed open, then shut. In the wreckage of our living room, a note left by Sophie stood out starkly. I’m gone. Please don’t fight because of me. She was gone, but her things were still in the guest room. Liam let out a ragged breath, crumpled the note in his fist, and instinctively moved to go after her. I grabbed his sleeve. “Where are you going? What does she have to do with you?” He looked down at me, his brow furrowed in disbelief. “It’s one in the morning, Audrey. You’re just going to let her walk out alone? What if she does something stupid?” His words were a physical blow, a sharp, stabbing pain in my chest that left me breathless. Sophie had been living with us for six months, and her emotional breakdowns were a regular occurrence. I’d lost count of the number of nights I’d thrown on a coat and begged Liam to help me find her. And what did he say back then? He’d said, “Your friend is seriously messed up. Just because she’s miserable, does she have to drag everyone else down with her?” He’d said, “What do I care if she lives or dies?” “She’s my friend. Please, just help me this once.” He’d finally pulled on his jacket with a dark scowl. “Make sure she knows I’m only doing this for you. This is the last time.” And now? Now he was saying: “She’s your friend, Audrey. How can you be so cold-hearted?” He ripped his arm from my grasp. “You need to calm down. Go look at yourself in the mirror.” His voice dropped, laced with disgust. “The way you look right now… it’s hideous.” The sound of the door slamming shut was like a slap across my face. The tears flowed freely now. This was the home Liam and I had built together with love, the place we were going to get married in. Now it was empty, cavernous, with only me inside. A notification lit up my phone. It was the recruiter I’d turned down a few weeks ago. Audrey, are you sure you want to pass on this opportunity? The salary and benefits we’re offering are significantly better than your current position. Are you sure you don’t want to reconsider? The reason I’d given him for refusing was simple: My love and my friend are here. I have no plans to move to a new city. But now… My fingers flew across the screen. Yes. I’ll take the job. 2 After sending the message, I stood in the living room for a long time, the emotional rollercoaster of the night leaving me utterly drained. I looked around blankly. The cozy, warm space we had created was now a disaster zone of my own making. The half-eaten birthday cake was smashed on the floor, cream splattered everywhere—on the rug, the sofa… and on Liam. I remembered it clearly now. The moment I’d picked up the cake, he had instinctively moved to shield Sophie. He’d taken the full force of it, ending up a mess, but he had kept her perfectly pristine. The more I remembered, the deeper the pain cut. Six years. Liam and I had been together for six years. Everyone in our lives knew that all it would take was a proposal, and we would seamlessly step into the next chapter of our lives together. He’d even set aside the money for our future—the rings, the down payment—in an account that I managed. So why? Why would the friend I’d known for fourteen years do this to me? Hadn’t I been good enough to her? Her mother died giving birth to her. Her father was a monster who either beat her or screamed at her, and to make things worse, he’d brought home a stepmother with a heart full of poison. When she was starving, I shared my meals with her. When her stepmother kicked her out after a fight, I was the one who gave her a place to stay. Throughout college, the slightest hint of sadness from her would have me dropping everything to be by her side, to talk her through it. Six months ago, when she lost her job and had no income, no savings, I cleared out our guest room for her without a second thought. Even though she’d been living off me ever since, eating my food, using my things, I never once complained. As a friend, I had done everything I possibly could. So why would she do this to me? How could she do this to me? My mind was stuck in a loop of ‘why’ and ‘how could she,’ a relentless, maddening mantra. The dual betrayal from my partner and my best friend was like quicksand, dragging me down into a bottomless abyss of filth and despair. A familiar ringtone jolted me from my trance. It was Sophie. Her tear-choked voice came through the phone. “Audrey, Liam was just helping me celebrate my birthday. I swear, nothing happened between us.” “If you have to blame someone, blame me.” “It’s my fault. I’m the one who should be dead. I shouldn’t have had a breakdown today!” “Audrey, please, can you forgive me?” I was silent for a long time, my nails digging into my palms. She still hadn’t answered my real questions. Seven hours ago, during our three-way confrontation, I had screamed at her like a madwoman. “Why did you read my texts and not reply? Why did you need my boyfriend to comfort you before you could feel better?” “You’ve been living like a ghost in my apartment, always trying to stay out of the way. But somehow, in the three days I was gone on my trip, you managed to leave your personal belongings scattered everywhere!” Her underwear was on the sofa, her half-eaten snacks on the coffee table, her lipstick in our bathroom… she had saturated my home with her presence. Through the phone, I could hear the wind whipping around her. Finally, I just asked, “Sophie… when did things change between you two?” Her sobbing hitched for a second. Then, I heard her shriek, a raw, uncontrolled sound. “Audrey, I’m so sorry! I’ll pay for it with my life, okay?! Is that what you want?!” “Sophie, don’t be a fool!” That was Liam’s voice. It sounded like Sophie’s phone clattered to the ground. After a burst of sharp static, I heard her whisper, her voice filled with a strange, breathless wonder. “It’s so good… you found me again.” 3 I don’t remember how I survived that chaotic, disgusting night. I only know that Liam never came back. And the December nights were so, so cold. I wrapped myself in the thickest blanket, but the chill seeped in from all sides, freezing me to the bone. I barely slept, my mind a battlefield of conflicting thoughts. I had already decided to leave, but I couldn’t stomach the idea of just handing everything over to them. Why should I be the one to give up everything, while their only consequence was… losing me? “Audrey, what’s wrong? You look terrible.” a colleague remarked with a teasing smile. “Did you leave your soul behind on your business trip?” I forced a stiff smile and listened to their idle chatter. They were discussing a novel, talking about the undying love between the main characters. “No matter where the heroine is, the hero can always find her instantly. If that’s not love, what is?” My hand froze mid-motion as I was filling my mug. The little details I’d brushed aside now came flooding back, each one a sharp, painful realization. I remembered the first few times Sophie had a breakdown. Liam had been so reluctant to help, grumbling and complaining until I coaxed him out of the house. But then, somewhere along the line, that changed. He started being the first one to grab his jacket. Our joint searches became more “efficient” solo missions. He’d go one way, I’d go the other. I would call her name until my throat was raw, dialing her number endlessly with no answer. But Liam… Liam could always find her. He’d effortlessly pull her out from some dark corner, some hidden alleyway. They said it was a coincidence. I didn’t question it. I didn’t have the energy to question it. Seeing Sophie standing there, safe, was all that mattered. I was just grateful. Grateful that she was okay, and grateful that Liam was there to find her when I couldn’t. What else had I missed? Oh, right. Sophie’s breakfast. It started as a special treat just for me. Then it became, “Oops, I accidentally made too much,” and Liam would conveniently finish the leftovers. The three of us watching a movie at home, a scene I found completely boring would make both of them burst into laughter at the exact same moment. … How could I have been so stupid? Blinded by what I thought was love and friendship. A complete and utter fool. “Audrey! The water’s overflowing!” Scalding water splashed onto the back of my hand. The pain registered a moment too late. Blisters were already forming on my skin. After a quick rinse under cold water, I told my boss I needed to leave and went to the hospital. Lancing the blisters hurt like hell. But you have to drain the poison for a wound to heal. As I watched the doctor work, my gaze steady, I dialed the number for a moving company. Even if I was leaving, I refused to let Sophie simply waltz in and become the new mistress of my home. Poison like that deserved to be exposed, to fester and rot in the open. 4 Just after my hand was bandaged, I saw two familiar figures down the hospital corridor. It was Liam and Sophie. I followed them, an uncontrollable impulse, and watched as Liam expertly navigated her through the check-in process for a follow-up appointment. The staff in the psychiatry department already knew them well. Two nurses were murmuring to each other. “He’s so good to his girlfriend. So patient. He’s never missed one of her weekly appointments.” “I know, right? Depression is so hard to treat. I honestly thought they’d break up by now, but he’s stuck by her.” My feet froze to the floor. A mixture of rage and grief twisted my voice. “They come here every week?” I asked them. “Yeah, rain or shine. Last month, during that huge storm, the parking lot was completely flooded. We were all betting they wouldn’t show. But then we looked up, and there he was, carrying his girlfriend on his back, not even letting her feet touch the water.” I remembered that storm. It was impossible to get a cab, and I didn’t have an umbrella. I called Liam, asking him to pick me up. He told me he had to work late. So this was the “work” he was doing. If I hadn’t come to the hospital on a workday, I would have never discovered their secret. What else? What else was there between them that I didn’t know? Anger was a smoldering ember that had never truly been extinguished. All it took was a few stray words from a stranger to make it roar back to life. A vicious thought took root in my mind. I strode forward and called out, my voice loud and clear. “Liam. Shouldn’t you be at work? What are you doing at the hospital with my friend?” The hallway fell silent. The two nurses stared, their eyes darting between the three of us. Sophie’s face went deathly pale. “I… I wasn’t feeling well, so…” she stammered. “So you called my boyfriend to keep you company?” I jabbed a finger at her chest. “This sweater? I bought this for you with my very first paycheck.” I grabbed her purse. “And this bag? This was your Christmas present from me last year.” Every word was forced through clenched teeth. “You eat my food, wear my clothes, and sleep with my boyfriend. Have you no shame?” My gaze snapped to Liam. “Do either of you have any shame?!” I must have looked insane. Hair a mess, eyes bloodshot, like a wild woman who had lost all control. Liam wouldn’t even look at me. He was too busy comforting a trembling Sophie, holding her so close he might as well have been cradling her. Only after a doctor led Sophie into an examination room did he grab my wrist, his grip like iron, and drag me into an empty stairwell. “Are you trying to kill her?! She almost jumped off a bridge last night, did you know that?” A mocking laugh escaped my lips. “Well, she’s not dead yet, is she? She pulls this stunt every time she wants attention. How many times has she threatened to kill herself and actually gone through with it? It’s all an act! She just does it to get to you!” My voice rose to a shriek, but Liam’s slap cut me short. My head snapped to the side, my cheek throbbing with a dull, numb pain. His hand was trembling, but his voice was chillingly calm. “Get a grip, Audrey.” Who was the one who needed to get a grip? The look he gave me was devoid of any warmth, so cold it could freeze the blood in my veins. I viciously wiped away a tear and turned on my heel. By the time I drove home, the movers were already there. I threw open the door to the guest room and watched as they packed every single one of Sophie’s belongings into boxes. A twisted sense of satisfaction washed over me. See? As long as I was here, this was my home. She could stay if I wanted her to. And if I didn’t, she could get the hell out. Once the room was completely empty, I took a picture and sent it to both Liam and Sophie, a blatant act of provocation. Sophie didn’t reply, but Liam called almost immediately. “Wait for me. We need to talk.” Fine. We’ll talk. I started calculating my investment in our home, putting six years of love on a scale to see what it was worth to Liam. The last sliver of daylight vanished from the sky before he finally came back. He walked in, went straight to the balcony, and lit a cigarette in silence. I scrolled through my phone mechanically, the volume turned up loud. The cheerful background music from a video filled the space, a stark contrast to the suffocating tension between us. This was a first for us. This heavy, crushing silence. He stubbed out his cigarette and came to stand in front of me. He gently unwrapped the gauze from my hand and began to apply fresh ointment to the burns. Then, out of nowhere, he said, “Let’s get married.”

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The surgery was over, but one vial of Propofol was missing. After two hours of frantic searching, I looked at the team’s ashen faces. “We have to report this to Risk Management.” That’s when Brooke Allen, Dr. Logan Pierce’s intern, piped up. “Oh, chill out, Tessa! I took it!” She tossed the empty, warm vial onto the stainless steel tray. The anesthetic was gone. I felt the blood drain from my head, but Logan immediately stepped in front of her, placing his body between his star student and me. “Brooke is just a kid, Tessa. Don’t make a scene.” He gave her an indulgent look. “Forget it. Log that vial as normal surgical consumption.” Brooke, hiding behind his broad shoulders, snickered. “I poured it out. I just wanted to see how important it really was! I call that intellectual curiosity, Professor. Where’s my reward?” Logan, Chief of Surgery and my husband, actually nodded in approval. As they turned to leave, I pressed the emergency alert bell, the sound slicing through the sterile air. They both flinched. “Dr. Pierce,” I said, my voice low and lethal. “In a patient, this is anesthesia. But when Dr. Allen illegally diverts and disposes of a controlled substance, it’s felony drug evidence.” I tilted my head, my eyes narrowed. “A reward? You’ll be talking to the police.” Brooke’s face went pale. She gripped Logan’s arm, whining in a tight, high-pitched voice. “I was just playing a joke! It didn’t affect the patient!” I ignored her and looked directly at Logan. “You think this is just a joke?” “Tessa, it’s a line-item adjustment. Don’t be dramatic.” He strode over and cut the alarm off. Even behind his mask, I could feel the familiar wave of impatience and veiled contempt emanating from him. I felt a surge of disbelief so sharp it stole my breath. “Surgical medications require triple-check verification and dual-party log entries, Logan. They are legally binding documents. Anesthesia outside of protocol is a Schedule IV narcotic! This is serious misconduct.” I leaned forward. “Silence is complicity, Doctor. Do you want the entire team to lose their licenses because you want to protect your student?” A tense silence descended on the OR. Brooke’s face was now flushed bright red. She stomped her foot, a pathetic, fabricated sob entering her voice. “Tessa! I know you hate me because I’m younger, but I didn’t hurt anyone! Why are you trying to put me in prison? Fine! I’ll apologize!” “Enough!” Logan hauled Brooke back and glared at me. “I’ll discipline my resident. You, however, have wasted everyone’s valuable time over this nonsense. My time is precious.” He lowered his voice. “We’ll stick to my plan. You’ll just need to add a line saying Brooke showed exemplary initiative and seamless coordination with the attending physician.” My blood ran cold. Brooke hadn’t contributed anything to that surgery except wiping sweat off Logan’s brow. The girl now looked up at him with a gaze of utter devotion and gratitude that felt like a needle in my eye. We’d been married five and a half years. Logan gave his time and patience to his patients, his colleagues, his students. I was always last. I had rationalized it for years. He was the youngest Chief of Surgery in the state; I was just the Charge Nurse. I sacrificed my specialist training and took the high-pressure OR post just to avoid ‘conflict of interest,’ as he’d put it. My body was screaming for a break, and the pressure of not conceiving had been crushing me. But staring at him now, defending his little protégé, I finally understood the cold, hard truth: he wasn’t not worried about us having a child. He simply didn’t care. My voice was flat, emotionless. “I will report you for falsifying surgical records.” Logan lost his patience completely. He grabbed my wrist and hissed. “Tessa! Are you ever going to stop?” Before I could answer, Brooke started wailing, a full-on, theatrical cry. “I’m sorry, Tessa! I’ll never touch anything again! Just please don’t be mad at Professor Pierce because of me! He’s already so tired!” My head was ringing. Logan brutally shoved me away. “A Charge Nurse thinking she can dictate terms to the Chief of Surgery?” He snatched the logbook and scrawled an addition—Propofol, 1 vial, used in procedure—in his sloppy, self-important doctor’s handwriting. He then scanned the room, his eyes hardened. “Everyone, keep your mouths shut and get back to work. This is over.” The team exchanged nervous glances, silently cleaning up the mess. I stood in the middle, a phantom. The spot where he’d pushed me was throbbing, as if he’d just punched all the energy out of my body. Finally, Dr. Kim, the anesthesiologist, whispered, “Chief Pierce, the surgical log still needs the Nurse Manager’s signature on the last page.” Logan’s face was grim. He dragged me into a corner and pulled down his mask. His eyes were heavy with calculated fatigue. “Can we talk about this at home, Tessa?” He took my hand, his thumb stroking my skin. “Just sign it, baby. Please.” His usually chiseled face looked terrifyingly alien. Baby. He never called me that at the hospital. Keep our professional lives separate, was his first marriage rule. I had lived by it for five years. Now, he was breaking it, all to protect this girl. I laughed, a sharp, bitter sound, and jerked my hand away. “I won’t sign a thing.” I leveled my gaze at him. “A phantom vial of Propofol is your problem to solve. I’m not committing fraud for you.” His face tightened, his eyes flashing a silent, dangerous warning. Brooke sidled back over, her voice timid but her eyes glittering with anticipation. “Professor, this is all my fault…” “Yes. It is,” I cut her off. I didn’t want to hear one more word of Logan’s sickening platitudes. “Dr. Allen, you can probably kiss your white coat goodbye.” She gasped. “You’re a nurse! You can’t touch me!” Logan put his arm around her shoulders in a comforting, proprietary gesture. He scoffed, “She’s just trying to scare you. What’s she going to do?” He steered her out of the room. Watching them, my heart felt heavy, a dull ache settling deep in my chest. Alone in my office, exhaustion washed over me. I opened my drawer and saw the brand-new deep-tissue massager. I’d bought it for his upcoming birthday, knowing how his shoulders ached after twelve hours hunched over a laptop. He doesn’t need it. The image of Brooke’s hands playfully massaging his neck in the OR flashed behind my eyes. I slammed the drawer shut. “Tessa?” Someone tapped lightly on the door. It was Dr. Kim, looking distraught. She was young, and today’s scene had clearly rattled her. “Brooke has done this before, Tessa. She’s a menace.” Dr. Kim’s voice trembled as she recounted other incidents, ending with, “She almost caused an incision blowout on the closure because she kept messing up the suture line! She’s going to get us all in trouble. Only you have the authority to do something.” I lowered my eyes. The fact that a resident with zero professional ethics could remain at Logan’s side spoke volumes. My phone lit up. Two texts from our family group chat. Logan: Late tonight. Don’t wait up. Marilyn (MIL): @Tessa, Drink that herbal tonic in the fridge. Time to push through, sweetie! My mother-in-law had been pushing increasingly absurd “fertility tonics” for months. Logan, the doctor, had never once stopped her. A wave of intense irritation washed over me. I turned off the screen and looked at Dr. Kim. “Don’t worry,” I said. “I’ll take this straight to the top.” I began drafting my formal complaint against Brooke and Logan. I worked through the night, eventually crashing on the office sofa. The next morning, I was heading for Hospital Compliance when Brooke walked in. She was holding a piece of paper. “Here you go, Nurse,” she smirked, dangling my suspension notice. The reason: Improper Surgical Procedure. She leaned in close. “It’s all your fault. Logan had to comfort me all night. He said you were a jealous, manipulative witch, and he signed this suspension right before dawn just to protect me. You’re out.” A cold rage, sharper than the sterile steel of the OR, flooded me. Logan knew exactly what it had taken for me to become a Nurse Manager. There were times I hadn’t slept at home for three months. And now, for this girl, he was throwing my career away. I grabbed her arm, my grip like iron. She yelped and tried to pull away. “You’re crazy! Let go of me!” I dragged her past the stunned nurses and up the stairs, all the way to the CEO’s office. I slapped my evidence report onto his desk. “I am formally reporting intern Brooke Allen for diverting a Schedule IV narcotic and compromising patient safety.” The CEO’s face changed instantly. He picked up my report, his brow furrowing as he read. Brooke was silent now, glaring at me. “Sir, I trust your judgment on right and wrong,” I stated. Before he could answer, the door flew open. Logan burst in, his collar flipped up, revealing a faint, telltale red mark at his neckline. Behind him were the three other staff members from the night before. “Ah, Logan,” the CEO said, setting the report down. “What is going on? Tessa is reporting misconduct, and the OR time log was two hours over.” Logan moved quickly to shield Brooke. “She’s lying. Dr. Allen did nothing wrong. The anesthesia log is fine, and everyone here can vouch for Brooke’s exemplary conduct.” I looked at the others, shocked. Dr. Kim quickly looked away. The other two were cold and remote. “Dr. Kim!” I called out. “You told me a very different story yesterday!” She jumped, her face turning scarlet as she faced the CEO. “I said nothing! The reason the OR was delayed was because Tessa was harassing Dr. Pierce with personal matters! Dr. Allen is excellent; she’s always covering shifts for us.” She took a shaky breath. “During the surgery, the patient showed signs of awakening, and Dr. Allen was the one who spotted it and suggested an additional vial of Propofol!” I stared at her, utterly floored. This airtight lie was Logan’s work, polished and perfected. I looked at the man I had loved for so many years. To protect her, his golden girl, and to destroy me, he was willing to drag my name through the mud. My eyes stung with unshed tears as I looked at the CEO, who was nodding along with Logan’s narrative. “Logan is exceptional, Tessa, but you’re getting older. You need to know your place. It’s good that Logan decided to stop this. People like you don’t belong in this team.” The last flicker of hope died. Only pure disgust remained—for the hospital, for the people in it, and for Logan. Logan gave a practiced, humble smile. “Brooke is a hard worker, Sir. She’ll be Attending material soon.” Brooke, meanwhile, giggled and hid her face. “I still have so much to learn! I can’t live without Professor Pierce!” The CEO and the other two doctors laughed with them. Logan glanced at me, his eyes dismissive. “Brooke is sweet and compliant. Not like some people, who are rigid and only cause trouble.” “Ha. Tessa is the old guard, Chief Pierce. You’re too right,” one of the others sneered. I didn’t care about their insults. I only wanted to leave. As I turned, his hand clamped down on my wrist. “Tessa, apologize to Brooke. I’ll rescind the suspension.” His eyes held a look of utter condescension, as if he were granting a boon. I looked him straight in the eye, saying slowly, “Don’t suspend me.” He smiled, waiting for the apology he felt he deserved. “Just process my resignation. I quit.” I ripped my ID badge from my scrub top and threw it—not gently—at his face. “What the hell, Tessa!” His voice cracked with rage, but I walked away, shutting the door firmly behind me. Six months ago, a high-end private medical center had courted me for the Nurse Manager position. The salary and benefits were exponentially better than this place. But I hadn’t taken it because I wanted to stay with Logan. That loyalty felt like a cosmic joke now. On the way home, I called the private center and confirmed my availability. They were thrilled. Our house was sterile and cold. A house I had called home for five years felt utterly alien. In the fridge, the large bowl of my mother-in-law’s repulsive, fishy-smelling “fertility tonic” sat waiting. I poured it all down the drain and started packing. Two hours later, all my life’s possessions fit neatly into a few suitcases. I opened the door, expecting the takeout I’d ordered. Instead, a hand lashed out, slapping me across the face. “This is the murderous nurse!” the man screamed. “The one who OD’d my father on anesthesia! My dad is still comatose!” My head spun. “Anesthesia overdose? That’s impossible—” Before I could finish, I was overwhelmed by punches and kicks. The Propofol was dumped, but even if it hadn’t been, Brooke was the one who handled it. But I was the one pushed down the stairs, the sharp pain from my forehead searing through my skull. “Stop this now!” A familiar voice cut through the chaos. Logan arrived and shielded me. “Sir, the hospital will release an official statement! If you touch her again, I’m calling the police!” Logan scooped me up and put me in his car. My head was throbbing, but my mind was clearer than it had ever been. I knocked away the hand he extended to stop the bleeding. “Why me? Why did they say it was me?” His eyes darkened. He silently put the gauze down and started the engine. “Who touched the Propofol doesn’t matter, Tessa,” he said, his voice dropping. “Someone has to take the fall.” He sighed. “Brooke is a rising star. You’re a community college nurse. The hospital will protect her. You need to be the scapegoat.” He paused, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Just take the hit. Admit it was an operational error at the press conference. I’ll give you a child. You want one, don’t you? A fresh start. You can finally stay home, and I’ll support you.” I felt a hysterical laugh bubble up in my throat. “All this time… you were on birth control? That’s why I couldn’t get pregnant?” His silence was the only confirmation I needed. I laughed until the tears finally came. At the hospital, Logan personally stitched up my injuries. His gestures were solicitous, but I felt no warmth from him at all. At the press conference, Brooke and the others spun their lies about my negligence. Camera lenses focused solely on me. When it was finally my turn, I walked calmly to the microphone. In front of the hospital board and the police, I pulled up the sleeve of my blouse. The angry, stitched line of my injury—a seven-inch gash—was starkly visible on my forearm. “I am Tessa Pierce, OR Supervisor. I sustained this injury one week ago from an agitated patient.” I paused, letting the silence draw out. “As you can see, I am physically incapable of manipulating a syringe. So, Dr. Pierce, please explain how I administered the lethal dose of anesthesia? When did I violate sterile protocol? What time, and from what angle, did I insert the needle?” The room exploded into stunned whispers, and all eyes shifted to Brooke. She was speechless, and Dr. Kim’s face was fiery red. I smiled and circled the forged entry on the projected logbook. “Dr. Allen is too ‘silly’ to answer, I suppose.” My smile hardened. “But this new log entry was written by her mentor, Chief of Surgery Logan Pierce, himself.” I looked straight at my husband. “Chief Pierce, where exactly did that vial of Propofol go?”

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When I was a trust fund baby, I kept Silas as my plaything. I forced him into submission every day, finding new ways to humiliate him. If he refused, I threatened to cut off his grandmother’s hospital funding. Later, my family went bankrupt. Unable to bear the cold shoulders of fair-weather friends, I left town without a word. Years later, I became a line cook. In the private dining room of a five-star hotel, I ran into the now-infamous CEO, Silas Vance. That night, mimicking my old demeanor, Silas threatened me with my job and tapped my cheek with a black card. “Come on. Start kissing from here and go down.” “Don’t stop until I’m satisfied.” 01 “Caleb, get over here.” The manager appeared in the kitchen, calling my name. I put down the ladle, wiped the sweat from my forehead, and walked toward the door. “Manager Sutton, what’s wrong?” Sutton looked me up and down. “The ravioli for the Golden Suite tonight… you made it?” I paused for a second, then nodded. “Did it not suit the guest’s taste?” In an instant, my heart jumped to my throat. Before the shift started, Sutton had warned us repeatedly that the guests in the Golden Suite tonight were VIPs. One of them had a notoriously difficult palate. Not only difficult, but peculiar. No matter where he ate, no matter how high-end the restaurant, he always ordered a bowl of handmade ravioli. If he liked it, the bonus was substantial. If he didn’t, jobs were on the line. Because of this, when Sutton ordered the ravioli to be made, the entire kitchen staff went silent. No one wanted to put a target on their back. At that moment, I—the one everyone least expected—stepped up. The reason was simple. I needed to pay next quarter’s rent. And there was my sister’s kidney dialysis fees. Five hundred dollars a session, twelve times a month. That amount was a fortune to the current me. So, while everyone else held back, I bit the bullet and volunteered. Worst case scenario, it couldn’t get much worse than my current life. But I wasn’t going in blind. I had been a picky eater since childhood. Before the bankruptcy, I turned my nose up at delicacies from land and sea. Only the ravioli made by that person had ever captivated me. So much so that when I found out my dad went bankrupt, my first thought was to find him. To ask him to teach me how to make them. I had no choice. He had spoiled my palate. I was afraid that in the future, I’d be so pathetic I couldn’t even eat a decent meal. Over the years, I had perfected that recipe. But seeing Sutton’s furrowed brow, I broke out in a cold sweat. Was there someone in this world pickier than I used to be? A few colleagues who despised me started sneering from the sidelines. “See that? That’s what happens when you overestimate yourself. The pros didn’t dare take the job, but this halfway-decent cook wanted the spotlight. Hah, served him right.” “I’ve hated his high-and-mighty act for ages. Good riddance.” “Yeah, look at him, skinny as a rail, looks like a girl. I’m surprised he can even lift a wok! Hahahaha…” Amidst the laughter, my anxiety spiked. “Enough. Shut it,” Sutton coughed lightly and looked at me. “Caleb, Mr. Vance asked for you by name.” 02 I looked up at Sutton, stunned. “Why does he want to see me?” “To fire you in person, obviously!” “Hilarious. A hillbilly trying to show off culinary skills to a billionaire. You really dropped a rock on your own foot this time.” The colleague laughed with schadenfreude. Sutton didn’t deny it, only saying, “Follow me.” “You’ll know when you get there.” On the way to the Golden Suite, Sutton only said one thing. He said Mr. Vance’s expression after eating the ravioli wasn’t good, and I should pray for myself. That sentence kept me on edge the whole way. Until I followed Sutton into the private room. The moment the door opened, I saw Silas Vance sitting at the head of the table. It was sudden. I hadn’t seen him in seven years. Silas was flanked by two young men. One wore a white dress shirt, unbuttoned down to his chest. The other wore a sheer knit top, his silhouette visible underneath. The boy in the white shirt was lighting a cigarette for Silas. He bent slightly, the silk ribbon around his neck swaying gently in front of Silas’s eyes. The one in the sheer top was kneeling by Silas’s feet, holding a wine glass with his mouth. His voice was muffled and suggestive. “Mr. Vance, this is for you.” This scene wasn’t unfamiliar to me. Back when my father was the richest man in the city, this was my daily life. Except back then, the one lighting my cigarettes and kneeling before me was Silas. The Silas who was cold and aloof in public, but fulfilled all my twisted quirks in private. But now, everything had changed. I was grateful I was wearing a mask. Combined with the tall chef’s hat, two-thirds of my face was hidden. Only my eyes were exposed. These eyes no longer held the playful arrogance of the past. Only exhaustion and weariness remained. So when Silas looked up at me, I wasn’t overly nervous. Seven years had passed. He surely wouldn’t recognize me. Or rather, he had likely erased me from his memory. Sutton stood in front of me, bowing respectfully to Silas. “Mr. Vance, this is the chef who made the ravioli, Caleb.” Oh, right. After leaving New York, I changed my name. First and last. Silas looked past Sutton, his gaze landing on me across the dining table. His eyes were indifferent, revealing no emotion. But his voice suppressed a strange undertone. “Where is Chef Caleb from?” Silas took the lighter from the shirt-boy’s hand, tapping it rhythmically against the table. Click. Click. I watched his movement. That was a habit of mine. I used to do that when I was annoyed or nervous. How should I put it? Since entering the room, I felt Silas was acting like someone. Like the old me. I answered him in a local Philadelphia accent. “Born and raised in Philly.” “Oh? Has Chef Caleb ever been to New York?” Silas stared at me with probing eyes. The old Silas was a puppet I manipulated at will. I never thought there would come a day when I would feel panic before someone I once controlled. I tried to keep my voice calm. “Never.” 03 Thud. The sound of the lighter hitting the table stopped abruptly. Silas stood up. With a single glance, the two men beside him retreated. He stood there, staring fixedly at me across the table. That razor-sharp gaze seemed to want to slice through my mask and lay me bare. My hands clenched unconsciously. Just as Silas was about to speak again, Sutton stepped in to smooth things over. “Mr. Vance, Caleb really is a local.” “Since we’ve known him, he’s been working at the hotel. He hasn’t been to New York.” “Is the ravioli not to your taste? How about this, I’ll have a chef from New York make an authentic bowl for you, does that work?” Others in the room started chiming in. “Look at Mr. Vance’s aura, you’ve scared the little chef.” “It’s just a bowl of pasta, have someone make another one.” “Manager Sutton, take him away. If he can’t even make ravioli, don’t let him stay and ruin your reputation.” Sutton looked at me with pity. He sighed. “Go.” I turned to leave the room, following Sutton. Regret filled my heart. I shouldn’t have gambled on this. I walked dejectedly, frantically thinking of how to beg Sutton for a second chance. Suddenly, Silas’s deep voice rang out from behind. “Cole.” My body froze violently. Cole. That was my name before. 04 I was fired anyway. Sutton said his hands were tied. The current Silas sat at the top of the food chain. Offending him was suicide. I didn’t want to make things hard for Sutton. After taking this month’s salary, I left through the hotel’s back door. Behind the hotel was a long, dark alley. To prevent guests from smelling the grease and smoke on us, the owner mandated all staff leave through the back. But I didn’t expect Silas to find such a desolate alley. I had just stepped out, barely taking two steps, when someone called out. “Chef Caleb.” Silas’s voice was raspy. Accompanying his voice was the crisp sound of a lighter flicking on. In the dim alley, a flame flickered. When I turned, the fire lit up. Silas leaned against the wall, a cigarette between his lips. The rising smoke obscured his eyes. I couldn’t see his expression clearly. But I knew he was looking at me. I turned my back to him, reaching into my pocket for a fresh mask. Spending years dodging debt collectors, I always carried a mask to avoid being recognized by old acquaintances. My hand in my pocket was suddenly pinned down. A warm palm slid into my pocket, caressing down from the back of my hand until his fingers interlaced with mine. Just like that, my hand, still in my pocket, was tightly clasped by Silas from behind. Locked in his palm. In the past, I was the one pinning Silas to the bed. Silas never resisted. Today, for the first time, I clearly realized how strong Silas actually was. If he wanted to resist, I wouldn’t stand a chance. Just like now, he yanked my hand out without a shred of gentleness. A forceful spin. I couldn’t even stand steady, stumbling back a few steps. Just as I was about to hit the wall, Silas reached out and caught my waist. He pinned me against the brick, his hand gripping my jaw like a vice, forcing my head up. “Chef Caleb seems quite indifferent about this job.” Silas spat out the cigarette, his tone playful. “But I heard your manager say you needed this job desperately?” I knew Silas had recognized me. Perhaps he wanted revenge. After all, I used money to humiliate him back then. I used his grandmother to threaten him. I forced a perfectly straight man into something else, making him serve me night after night. In the dark, neither of us could see the other’s expression clearly. I looked up, resigning myself to fate. “Yes, this job is very important to me.” “If possible, please, Mr. Vance, raise your hand high and let me go.” If I could turn back time, I would slap the old Cole across the face. Friends used to warn me to build up good karma, not to play with fire. Because no one knows what the future holds. What if the tables turned? What did I say back then? I was pinning Silas down, biting him, laughing with arrogant nonchalance. “Let them turn. I don’t believe they can turn enough to kill me.” Prophetic words. Who would have thought the young Master Cole, who spent money like water, would now be desperate for a line cook job? Begging the man he once toyed with in a low voice. Silas lowered his head slightly, his hot breath against my ear. “Is Chef Caleb begging me?” I nodded. “Yes, begging you. Please don’t let the owner fire me.” A low chuckle sounded in my ear. The hand gripping my jaw loosened slightly, sliding down my neck, landing on my throat. Then tightened abruptly. I was instantly choked, breathless. The instinct to survive made me grab Silas’s hand, hitting it hard. But Silas wouldn’t let go. Just as I felt I was about to pass out, Silas suddenly released me. I slid down the wall as he let go. Sitting on the ground, clutching my neck, gasping for air. The man’s low, raspy voice came from above. “Cole, if you’re going to beg, look like you’re begging.” “Do you need me to help you remember how you made me beg you back then?”

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In the sixth year of our marriage, Holden Sterling finally realized he didn’t love me. I let out a long sigh of relief. Great! My mission as the “female supporting character” is finally over. Holden handed me a black card with an eight-figure limit as alimony. Our son pouted: “I want to go with Auntie Bella too.” I let out another long sigh of relief. Great! Don’t have to raise the kid either. The System in my head also sighed with relief: [Host, you can go conquer the next target now!] 1. As his cold words fell. My eyes filled with tears: “Holden, we’ve been together for so many years, we even have a child, how can you…” I sobbed uncontrollably. The man lowered his eyes. After a while, he extended a finger and wiped the tear from the corner of my eye. Then, a bank card was placed in my palm. “Alimony,” Holden said indifferently. I covered my face with one hand, crying bitterly, while the other hand reached out to take the card. He turned to leave. Through teary eyes, I looked at his tall figure and suddenly spoke up: “Holden, we got the marriage license, we had the child. Now you say you’ve always loved Bella. What were you doing before?” I shouldn’t have said this. Because as a supporting character, my mission to make the male lead realize his true love was already complete. No need to add more drama for myself. But… Emotions inevitably stray outside the mission sometimes. Holden stopped. He turned his head slightly, his amber eyes scanning me calmly. I froze. Over the years, he had looked at me like this countless times. But afterward, he would pull me into his arms, his cool lips landing on my cheek. He would whisper: “Quinn, call me Hubby.” So I thought, there was at least some affection. Even love born of habit counts as affection, right? But looking at it now, with every glance, he was more certain. He didn’t love me. He didn’t love me at all. My hand dropped weakly. Holden didn’t speak again and walked away. 2. After a faint sense of loss, came a long sigh of relief. Like waiting for a verdict, the result finally arrived. My mission is finally f*cking over! I hummed a little tune while walking hand in hand with Leo at the mall. But the little boy, usually clingy to me, looked listless. Even when I took him to buy his favorite toys, his face was long. Only then did I realize something was wrong. I squatted down and asked him: “What’s wrong, Leo?” He sniffled: “Dad divorced you and went to find Auntie Bella.” I understood immediately. I pinched his cheek, “Don’t worry, no matter what, he’s your dad.” Leo looked down, tugging at the corner of my shirt. After a long while, he whispered: “I want to go find Auntie Bella too.” Hearing this, I froze. He took a deep breath, looked up, and stared straight at me with amber eyes identical to Holden’s: “Mom, Dad likes playing with Auntie Bella, and I like playing with Auntie Bella too. Can you let me go?” I looked at Leo in silence. The little boy didn’t seem to understand what his words meant. I asked: “Is Bella willing to take you?” Dimples appeared on his cheeks, “Of course Auntie Bella is willing. She said I’m the best kid in the world.” I didn’t know how to react for a moment. After a long time, I said slowly: “Then, she will be your mom. Are you willing?” Leo paused for a moment. Then he nodded: “It’s okay, Mom. Even after Auntie Bella becomes my mom, I will still come to see you with Dad.” I laughed self-deprecatingly: “Your dad won’t come.” Leo wrinkled his nose, then shook his head: “Mom, you just have to be good, like Auntie Bella. Dad will definitely be willing to bring me to see you. Then we can be together.” “Okay,” I said. He didn’t seem to expect me to agree so readily. He blinked a few times, then carefully put the jade pendant I just bought him into his pocket: “Yay! I’ll save this for Auntie Bella. It’s so pretty, she’ll definitely like it!” I looked calmly at the smile on his face. The System quickly spoke up in my head, comforting me: [Host, don’t be sad…] I said lightly: [It’s nothing. He’s Holden’s son. It’s not surprising they have the same tastes.] Besides, when I was pregnant with Leo, I had the System remove all sensations. I ate and drank as usual, experiencing no pain or adverse reactions. So for me, Leo is more like the mission target’s son than my own. Since things ended with Holden, keeping Leo around didn’t make sense. Since he wanted to leave, I didn’t need to stop him strongly. After sorting out my complicated thoughts, I let out another long sigh of relief. Don’t have to raise the kid! The System also sighed with relief: [Host, you can go conquer the next target now!] 3. While the Sterling father and son were figuring out how to please Bella. I was figuring out how to get the attention of my new target. Every family has its own difficulties. I sat at the bar, chatting absently with the handsome bartender. My peripheral vision kept glancing at the corner. The man was not far away, sipping his drink leisurely. I was unsure, whispering to the System: [He’s Holden’s best friend. What if I pretend to be drunk and throw myself at him, and he calls Holden?] Thinking of this, I got a headache again. If I knew this guy was the next target, I wouldn’t have gone against him before. Who told him to always badmouth my relationship with Holden? Every time Holden took me to their gatherings, Archer would casually bring up Bella. Making Holden zone out and me embarrassed. I sighed in my heart. Downed a few more drinks, then stood up, swaying towards the target. The target had his long legs crossed, slender fingers swirling the wine glass. Suddenly, the music exploded, and the crowd swayed, blocking my view instantly. I pushed through the crowd. Only to see the man sitting opposite him. The elegant and noble Holden. And the smiling Bella. In a daze. The target was gone. Someone tapped my shoulder. … The bartender handed me a set of keys: “Miss Yu, you dropped this.” I took it embarrassedly, “Sorry for the trouble.” He smiled and nodded, turning back to the bar. As he left. The tall man standing lazily in front of me, one hand in his pocket, revealed himself. Casting a shadow over my head. Archer lowered his eyes: “Looking for me?” “What?” “You’ve been peeking at me for a long time.” I stiffened for a second. The System hurriedly spoke: [Host, conquer, conquer him!] I silently complained in my heart. The persona I used to conquer Holden was a nineteen-year-old innocent, devoted little flower. Seven years later, what persona should I use for Archer? Just as I was about to speak. “Archer? What are you doing standing there?” Holden’s calm voice sounded, his steady footsteps getting closer. My face changed, and I immediately hid in the crowd nearby. I can’t let Holden see me! Now that I’m conquering Archer, the less Holden exists, the better. Just then, a force pulled me over. My forehead slammed hard into a man’s chest, a faint woody scent enveloping me instantly. “Who is this?” Holden saw me from his angle, frowning slightly. “A stray kitten,” Archer said lightly. “Don’t play around,” Holden’s voice was cold. Archer was nonchalant, “Mmhmm.” It seems Holden thought I was Archer’s fling. He usually hated me going to bars the most, thinking they were messy places. Once, when I celebrated a friend’s birthday at a bar, Holden gave me the cold shoulder for half a month. I had to try everything to coax him back. Archer spoke lazily: “Not going back yet? Aren’t you afraid Bella will get hit on?” Holden didn’t speak. I felt a gaze land on me. I couldn’t help but press closer to Archer, his fingertips hooking my hair. “Bella’s sister is here too,” Holden said indifferently. I paused. Almost instantly understood the implication. When I was with Holden, I often heard that Bella’s cousin liked Archer. However, there were few girls Archer was interested in, and he didn’t seem to care. Now it seems Holden and Bella want to help that girl chase Archer. That won’t do! This is my target! As Holden finished speaking, I quickly grabbed the corner of Archer’s shirt. Because of this action, both Archer and Holden looked over. The former raised an eyebrow lazily, “The kitten is clingy, won’t let go.” Holden had no intention of watching further. He turned to leave: “Suit yourself.” Archer called out to him: “Stop playing, isn’t your son waiting for you at home?” Holden stopped. “He’s only a few years old, you can leave him alone?” Archer sneered. “Quinn will pick him up,” Holden said calmly without turning back. “He probably said something to upset Quinn. In a few days, when she cools down, she’ll naturally pick him up.” “Oh? Why?” Archer asked with interest. Holden: “She has no one but Leo these past few years.” I hid silently in Archer’s arms. I understood the implication. Logically, after divorcing Holden, I would naturally hold onto Leo, otherwise I would have no one. With Leo, I could keep asking Holden for alimony and maintain contact. Only with the child could I keep my connection to Holden. 4. But… The System chattered in my brain: [Host, as long as you get Archer’s favorability to 50, then leave resolutely! Leave him for the female lead’s sister to comfort and heal. Then you can get the mission success reward: a healthy body for life and thirty million dollars.] Right, I accepted the mission to cure my illness. And my mission is to be a boring and uncharismatic woman. Through years of entanglement, make the male lead realize his feelings and be with the female lead. Then make the male lead’s bro realize his feelings and be with the female lead’s sister, completing the pairing. I’m just a ruthless tool for completing tasks! No time to play family dramas or tragic romances with them. I asked internally: [What’s Archer’s favorability towards me now?] System: [Currently not displayed, we’ll know when it changes.] I nodded indifferently. I could guess even without knowing, probably zero. Luckily favorability can’t be negative. Hearing Holden’s words, Archer laughed noncommittally. Just then. A gentle female voice sounded: “Holden, Archer, what are you chatting about…” She paused, obviously noticing me in Archer’s arms. Bella hesitated: “This is?” Archer leaned down slightly, whispering in my ear: “Miss, would you like to introduce yourself?” He asked politely, seemingly understanding. But only I knew, he was being bad! I shook my head frantically. Archer shrugged: “She’s shy.” Buried in his arms, I nodded in anger and shame. Bella was silent for a moment, then suddenly said: “Looking at the back, she looks a lot like Holden’s ex-wife.” Her words fell. The silence between the few people contrasted sharply with the noisy bar. Holden looked back coldly: “What?” Archer’s palm covered my lower back, raising an eyebrow, “Serious?” His lazy and playful look made Bella unsure. Her lips moved, just as she was about to smooth things over, Holden said lightly: “She wouldn’t come to a place like this.” “True,” Bella smiled and agreed, “Holden’s ex-wife is the good wife and mother type, of course she wouldn’t come to a bar.” “Please,” a clear voice rang out, “What era is this? What’s wrong with coming to a bar?” A girl walked over with her arms crossed, holding Bella’s arm, “Sis, that woman only stays at home and doesn’t go out. Good wife and mother my ass… didn’t see brother-in-law or that brat liking her much.” Bella pinched her cheek, saying helplessly: “How can you say that?” But there was no blame in her tone. They didn’t know that I once went to a bar for a friend’s birthday, and Holden gave me the cold shoulder. I stayed silent, catching a glimpse of Holden turning to leave. Bella froze for a moment, then followed. Before leaving, she dragged away her sister, Chloe, who kept glancing at Archer. The girl pouted, seeming to glare at me at the end? I shook my head secretly. It seems completing the mission is a heavy responsibility and a long way to go! Everyone was gone, I lowered my head and stepped back a few paces. I was prepared for Archer’s ridicule. After all, he had said many times that once Bella came back, there would be no place for me beside Holden. And I fought him hard back then. Now facts proved he was right. But Archer didn’t speak. His long fingers wrapped around my waist, leading me out of the noisy bar. The street at night was cool. Seeing me looking at him blankly, Archer raised an eyebrow and slightly loosened his hand on my waist. I immediately stumbled two steps. “Drunk like this, can you walk by yourself?” He slowly wrapped his arm around me again. …True. To create the plot of hitting on him while drunk, I did drink a lot just now. Archer dialed a number, “I’ll call a driver to take you home.” I froze, then grabbed his phone. Meeting his inquiring gaze, I stammered: “The house is empty, I heard there are thieves nearby…” System speechless: [Host, this excuse to stay over is too stupid.] I rolled my eyes internally: [He won’t agree anyway, okay? I just want to show my frailty appropriately. Staying over is not urgent at all—] “Then stay at my place?” Archer spoke. I looked up in surprise. The man lowered his eyes with interest, meeting my gaze. Me: “Oh, oh, okay, sure.”

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