Category: English

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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After I turned thirty-five, my body fell apart. My skin grew sallow, and fine lines bloomed at the corners of my eyes. Once, in the middle of it all, Damian’s hand squeezed the soft flesh of my stomach. “You know,” he said suddenly, “looking closely, you’re pretty average. How did I ever fall for you?” 1 I never thought my career as a caged bird would end at thirty-five. At that moment, my head was tilted back, my eyes fixed on the ornate carvings of the ceiling—the work of some foreign master, I’d heard. Very expensive. I always stared at it whenever Damian came to see me. In the beginning, he would grab my hair, forcing my gaze to meet his. He had beautiful, jewel-like eyes and the lazy grace of an exotic cat. But his grip was strong, and the roots of my hair would burn with pain. The scene might have looked passionate, but my pillow was always littered with strands of hair, tinged with blood. Damian’s voice would echo in my ear, a demonic whisper. “Anna, why can’t you just look at me?” Over time, our relationship… stabilized. At least we no longer fought like animals before ending up in bed. He stopped demanding my constant attention. He even unlocked the chains from my wrists. But by then, I had stopped trying to run. 2 My breath came in ragged gasps. I couldn’t keep up with him anymore. My hazy gaze drifted down from the ceiling and landed on Damian’s body, a testament to raw power. He’d been to a tanning salon; his bronzed skin was undeniably sexy. It was infuriating how a man over thirty could still flash such a roguish, bad-boy grin. It wasn’t just me; girls half my age would have fallen for it, hook, line, and sinker. In contrast, my thighs were just loose, flabby flesh. My silk nightgown had a tear in it, but I couldn’t be bothered to change. Damian threw on a robe and sank into the armchair across the room. His features were lost in shadow, but his sharp, chiseled profile made him look like a marble statue. I pretended I hadn’t heard his question. “I’ll start a diet tomorrow.” He chuckled. “Sweetheart, that’s not what I mean.” He tapped the ash from his cigarette, his voice laced with a careless cruelty. “What I mean is, you were never that special. It was my love for you that put a filter on everything.” He made an exploding gesture with his hands. “And now, the filter’s shattered.” He walked out without a backward glance, his final words a mix of disgust and relief. “Anna, you’re free.” It took me a long time to process that sentence. My first reaction wasn’t the ecstatic joy of newfound freedom, but a deep, burning rage. The man who had sworn he loved me most, who had morbidly talked about mixing our ashes together after death, was now dumping me. The anger gave way to a wave of sorrow, and then, a vast, terrifying emptiness. Damian had broken me. For ten years, I’d been waited on hand and foot. No social life, no friends. I’d forgotten how to use a smartphone. The TV in my room was locked to foreign channels and would shut off automatically after eight. My world was confined to this villa and the half-mountain behind it—the private Blackwood estate. I was, in every sense, Damian’s property. And now, I had nowhere to go. 3 I had sensed Damian was changing for a while. In the beginning, he was suffocatingly clingy, always calling me his “Anna,” his moon, his everything. I went from agonizing pain to a slow, reluctant anticipation of his visits. Eventually, when he called my name, I started to respond. He would wrap me in a soft blanket, his touch gentle as he treated the raw wounds on my wrists. His fingertips would be stained with my blood, and he’d look down at me, his eyes overflowing with a twisted sort of tenderness. “Anna, does it hurt?” he would murmur, his eyelashes trembling like a butterfly’s wings. “You can hit me, but you must never, ever hurt yourself.” He was so gentle. So convincing. But then, his visits dwindled to once a month. Then once every three months. Then every six. Until finally, he threw me out. After ten years as a prized canary, I was unemployed. 4 I didn’t have many things. All my clothes had been bought by Damian. He loved dressing me up, like a doll. One day it would be an elaborate, ruffled Lolita dress, the next a simple, pure-white sundress. I wore whatever he gave me. When he stopped buying me clothes, I simply lived in my nightgowns. Before leaving, I looked in the mirror one last time. The woman in the reflection was puffy, her skin oily, her hair a tangled, unkempt mess. No wonder Damian didn’t want me anymore. But then… what version of me did he ever want? 5 I left the villa with a single suitcase. Inside were my ID, my passport, and a few old business suits. “Where should I go?” I asked the butler. He sighed, a hint of pity in his eyes. “Go home, miss.” The sunlight felt gentle, but it stung my eyes. As I walked down the street in my disheveled state, people stared. The shopping mall I remembered was now a desolate, empty shell. The city’s bustling heart was now a forest of skyscrapers, none of them familiar. Even the roads had been widened to four lanes. A desperate urge washed over me. I wanted to go back to the villa, to beg Damian to let me stay. I’d be good. I promised I wouldn’t cause any more trouble. A passerby must have thought I was having a breakdown, because they called the police. The officer used my ID to contact my next of kin. A voice I knew instantly came through the phone. “Mark!” I cried out without thinking. On the other end, there was a clatter, the sound of something shattering, followed by an urgent, breathless voice. “Anna? Is that you? Don’t move. Stay right where you are. I’m coming to get you.” Mark. My boyfriend. Of that, I was certain. I blinked, and tears blurred my vision. When he finally arrived, he was a watery smudge in front of me. He knelt down, his hands trembling as he took mine. “Where have you been all these years? We all thought you died on that research trip.” Mark was sobbing. I lifted my head, my own voice shaking as I asked, “My parents… where are they? Why didn’t they come?” His grip on my hand tightened. His voice was heavy. “Let’s go home.” 6 This was Mark’s home. It wasn’t mine. A child’s walker was parked in the hallway, and as we approached the door, I could already hear the clamor from inside. The piercing shouts of children, and a woman’s firm voice. “No! I told you, you can have a snack after you finish your homework!” The children’s whining pleas overlapped. “Please, Mom? Just one!” Mark’s eyes were full of apology. He wouldn’t look at me. I felt a pang of awkwardness and turned away, staring at a pile of things in the corner. His apartment was on the top floor, the only one on that landing, and the small alcove outside served as a storage space. It was filled with family clutter: a walker, a soccer ball, a kite, a child’s electronic keyboard. Every item was a testament to a happy, bustling family life. A sour taste rose from my heart to the back of my throat, stinging my eyes. We were supposed to get married right after graduation. Mark handed me a pair of shoe covers while fumbling for his keys. “You can stay with us for now.” The moment the door opened, a pair of twins rushed out and clung to his legs. “Daddy, Daddy! Where did you go? Mommy’s waiting for you for dinner!” A woman appeared, her expression impatient. “Mark, you get a call and just leave without a word? Do you even see me as your wife?” Her tirade stopped short the moment she saw me. “Anna?” she whispered. I recognized her. She was a younger student from our department. Lily. Lily’s expression froze. She stepped aside, ordered the children back to their seats, and assumed the role of hostess. She found a pair of slippers for me. “Mark, really,” she chided gently, “you can’t have Anna wear shoe covers.” She took my hand, guiding me inside. “Dinner’s ready. The Coke chicken wings are still hot.” The atmosphere at the dinner table was thick with unspoken things. Lily didn’t ask where I’d been. She just said, “Anna, please, stay as long as you need. Don’t worry about me.” I paused with a piece of chicken halfway to my mouth. Lily must have noticed how much weight I’d gained. I used to be so strict with my diet, rarely touching carbs. I’d even peel the skin off chicken wings. At university gatherings, Mark would do it for me, and I’d bask in his affection, and in the envious glances of others. Lily had been one of them. She’d always admired Mark, but he’d never looked her way. Not until I went to the Amazon for a specimen collection trip. There was a terrorist attack in the region, and that same year, I vanished without a trace. Mark finally spoke. “Lily was the one who stayed by my side, who helped me through the darkest time. The police couldn’t find you. Everyone told me to move on. So… Lily and I got married.” I stared at him, the chicken in my mouth turning bitter. I knew. Ten years is an eternity. No one waits forever. Everyone moves forward. It felt like I was the only one trapped in the past. “Where were you all this time?” Mark asked. I couldn’t tell him. Damian had terrified me into silence. During my captivity, I once managed to rig an antenna and make a brief call to Mark. It was just a few beeps, but it was enough for him to trace the signal to the villa. Damian found out immediately. He bound my hands and shoved me into his car. I saw Mark on the street, handing out missing person flyers. He had no idea that the woman he was desperately searching for was sitting inside the black Range Rover passing him by. Damian pried my eyes open, forcing me to watch. “This is a warning,” he sneered. A motorcycle sped past, deliberately swerving and slamming into Mark. He crumpled to the ground, lying motionless in a pool of his own blood amid the scattered flyers. I screamed, desperate to get help, but Damian held me fast. The tinted window reflected only my own horrified face. I learned my lesson after that. I never tried to contact Mark again. I knew if I ever revealed that Damian was holding me captive, he had a thousand ways to silence me forever. So I just shook my head. “I don’t know.” “It’s okay,” Mark said softly. “You can tell me when you’re ready.” I couldn’t meet his eyes. He was no longer mine. I mechanically chewed my rice, each grain tasteless. Suddenly, Lily burst into tears. I looked at her, bewildered. Fat, hot tears rolled down her cheeks as she apologized over and over. “Anna, I’m so sorry! I shouldn’t have taken advantage… I shouldn’t have stolen Mark from you! I’ll give him back, just please, forgive me!” She gripped my hand so tightly it hurt. My mind was a chaotic mess; I didn’t know what to say. “Anna, I’m so, so sorry!” Her tears scalded the scars on my wrist. The marks were so obvious, yet no one had seen them. I remembered when Mark and I were together, I’d gotten a tiny scrape on my finger while we were making a sculpture. It was barely red, but he’d fretted over it, rushing to find ointment. Now, his eyes only saw Lily. I knew, with a painful clarity, that the past was gone. “It’s not your fault. Mark and I just weren’t meant to be.” Lily looked up, about to say more, but Mark pulled her away. Their hushed argument quickly escalated into a full-blown fight. The children, terrified, started wailing. The storm ended with Lily slamming the door and storming out. Mark ran after her, but not before telling me to stay put. I knelt on the floor, picking up scattered toys. The twins ran over and shoved me hard. “You ugly woman, get out of our house! Mommy and Daddy only fight when you’re here!” “Yeah, go away! We don’t want you!” I lost my balance and tumbled to the floor. Their tiny fists rained down on me, each blow a dull, heavy ache. Seeing I wasn’t leaving, they started crying at the top of their lungs, as if terrified I’d stay forever. “Get out! Leave my house!” “I want my Mommy and Daddy! I don’t want them to fight!” Watching them, so hysterical and helpless, I saw a reflection of myself. A flood of long-buried memories returned. The truth was, my relationship with Damian was never good. I was never captivated by him. I was just… out of options. When he first imprisoned me, I had fought back. I had screamed at him, just like these children were screaming now. He’d slapped me so hard my eardrum rang, and I had scrambled backward in terror. He’d pulled me into his arms, my body trembling uncontrollably, as he whispered apologies again and again. My resistance only made him more extreme. The constant friction of iron chains on my wrists and ankles left them a mass of scarred, calloused tissue, a cycle of wounds healing over wounds. He tried to brainwash me, telling me that if I just learned to love him, the pain would stop. But you can’t love a monster in a bespoke suit. To me, Damian was just a student from my department. He had been diligent and serious, and despite his wealthy background, he was humble. I’d respected him for that. I’d taken him on as my mentee, we’d collected samples in the mountains together. I had even complimented his beautiful eyes once. When our research made a breakthrough, we were interviewed by the media. Under the glare of the spotlights, Damian’s gaze on me was full of adoration. “Congratulations, Anna,” he had said. “You’re going to be at the very top of the scientific community.” Then his head dropped, a shadow of sadness crossing his face. “Will you still remember me then?” I ruffled his thick, soft hair. “Of course. We promised we’d work together to solve organ transplant rejection, didn’t we?” Back then, I could never have imagined that one day I would end up like this. He resented that the moon in the sky wouldn’t shine for him alone. So he dragged it down into the mud. And then, it was no longer the moon he wanted. He gave me pills. Medication that stabilized my mood but dulled my mind. Over time, my cognition blurred, and my memories fractured. Just as he wanted, I became obedient. 7 Ten years changes everything. No one waits in the same place forever. I didn’t blame Mark, and I had no intention of destroying his family. We just… missed our chance. “Almost.” It’s such a cruel word. I wished this was all a nightmare. That I’d wake up and my parents would be sitting by my bed, asking me what was wrong. That Mark would still be twenty-six, his promising career not derailed by a car crash. That I would still be my professor’s star student, charging toward my goals. But when I opened my eyes, I was still surrounded by crying children. The food on the table was cold. The world felt cold, suffocating. I struggled to my feet, wiped my tears, and left. Though my memories were fragmented, a small mercy surfaced: I remembered where my home was. I stumbled through the streets, clinging to the hope that once I got home, everything would be okay. But when I arrived, there was no warm welcome waiting. I knocked for what felt like an eternity, but no one answered. A thick layer of dust coated the doormat. The motion-activated light in the hallway flickered on and off as I continued to pound on the cold, metal door. “Mom, open the door! I’m home!” “Dad, it’s me! I don’t have my key, can you let me in?” I even pulled out my phone, pretending to send messages, as hot tears splattered onto the back of my hand. “Mom, are you out shopping? Please come back soon, I can’t get in.” “Dad, did you go fishing? I forgot my key, you need to come home and open the door.” The loud banging finally disturbed the neighbors. A woman opened her door and snapped at me. “Can you keep it down? The old couple who lived there passed away last year.” She took in my appearance, her tone hardening as if I were some crazy person off the street. “Who are you? If you don’t leave now, I’m calling the police!” Finally, a sob tore from my throat. “I’m their daughter!” Almost. Just a little closer… and I would have been home.

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My twin sister, Scarlett, and I were identical. Mom always claimed she had to be fair, so she bought two of everything, perfectly matched. But that New Year’s Eve, when we were given our sparkler wands, mine felt damp and soft. It wouldn’t catch a flame. I secretly swapped it for two of Scarlett’s. The moment it lit, the shower of sparks illuminated my eyes, wide with sheer joy. It also lit up Mom’s face, which was instantly ugly with anger. “Who told you to steal from your sister? I gave you your own—isn’t that enough? You have to be so greedy? You love fireworks so much? Go then—” She shoved me roughly out the back door, forcing my small body toward the field where the large, professional-grade firework mortar was waiting. The firework exploded with a muffled BOOM. When the shrapnel and sparking trails of fire rained down on my stunned body, I suddenly remembered all the years of her so-called “fairness.” The matching apples: Scarlett’s was always crisp and sweet; mine always had a rotten, yellowing core. The identical outfits: mine were always called fake by my classmates, falling apart after a month. A searing pain consumed my body, and I closed my eyes. Mom. I’m dying now. You won’t have to buy two of everything anymore. 1. The instant the fuse was lit, the large firework tube—improperly positioned—tipped and angled toward me. The massive impact of the explosion knocked me flat onto the frozen dirt. At the same moment, the rocket burst open against the inky black sky. A torrent of brilliant, streaking light poured down, reflecting in my eyes. It was like a bigger, more beautiful version of the sparkler I had stolen from Scarlett. The one Mom had snatched away after only a few seconds of light. Scarlett’s eyes were red rimmed, accusing me of taking what was hers. I stood there, clutching my own waterlogged, soggy sparkler. Years of unspoken injury and confusion boiled over. I finally looked up and asked the question that had plagued me for years: “Mom, you said they were exactly the same. So why wouldn’t mine light? Why did Scarlett’s work and mine didn’t? If they’re the same, why couldn’t I swap them?” My answer was the stinging slap of her hand. A flash of exposed shame and embarrassment crossed her face before she erupted. “How can a child be so greedy? I’ve been perfectly fair, but you have bad luck, and now you blame me and your sister?” She glanced at Scarlett’s tear-filled eyes, and her rage intensified. A cold smirk twisted her lips. “You love fireworks so much? Then go light that big one. Don’t come back until it’s finished.” Was I really that greedy? I pondered the question. The brilliant fireworks illuminated a twisted, blackened body on the ground. That body was mine. I was dead. My soul drifted lazily back toward the house. On the second-floor balcony, Scarlett clapped her hands, laughing. “Mommy, Mommy, look!” Scarlett and I grew up in the suburbs, rarely seeing such a spectacular, unobstructed display of fireworks. “Alright, sweetie, time for bed now. It’s getting late. I’ll go warm up your milk.” Mom smiled at Scarlett with a loving, indulgent expression and turned toward the kitchen. She habitually reached for two mugs. Into one, she poured the expensive, organic whole milk. Into the other, she poured the cheapest carton of milk from the back of the fridge, labeled with the “expires soon” sticker. Mom wrinkled her nose, as if the cheap, chalky smell offended her. “Scarlett, come here.” I watched as Mom urged Scarlett to drink the milk quickly. I’m dead now. Mom, you don’t need to prepare two of anything anymore. “Aubrey? Where’s Aubrey?” Nana Ruth, upstairs in the bedroom, called my name. Lately, her health had been failing, and sometimes she couldn’t get out of bed. When we arrived at the cabin for the holiday, Nana had given me a holiday card—it was thicker than Scarlett’s. Mom had immediately frowned and challenged her. “Mother, what is the meaning of this? I give the girls identical cards with identical cash. You’re playing favorites, aren’t you?” The old woman scoffed, gently stroking my hair. “Yes, I gave Aubrey a little extra. What’s the difference? Is it fair if I give them both ten bills, but yours are all ones and hers are all hundreds?” Nana Ruth gave me a big, enveloping hug. Unlike Mom, who always recoiled with a frown whenever I opened my arms toward her. “No, Aubrey. Mommy’s hugs have to be double. One for you, one for your sister. If Scarlett isn’t here, giving one only to you would be unfair.” I didn’t understand then. Why was there no mention of “fairness” when Scarlett demanded kisses and hugs from Mom whenever she felt like it? “Where is Aubrey? Didn’t she say she wanted to see the fireworks? Why isn’t she here?” Nana worried, sitting upright in bed. “She went back to her room a long time ago. Mom, you don’t need to worry about her. She’s too clever for that.” Mom let out a cold laugh, her brow furrowed with deep distaste. “Just moments ago, she was stealing Scarlett’s sparkler. I’ve been so fair to her, and she still isn’t satisfied? She really is just like her father—ungrateful, worthless trash.” 2. A look of pain crossed Nana Ruth’s eyes. She clutched her chest, her voice hoarse. “You can’t just blame the child for everything simply because she happens to look like him.” Floating in the air, my soul felt a missed beat. I remembered the times Mom would take us out. An older woman might look at us, dressed in matching princess dresses, and smile. “You certainly balance the scales, you do. You’ve raised two beautiful girls.” “The younger one favors you. So, the older one must favor her father.” Mom’s smile would vanish instantly. The look she’d turn on me was pure poison. Later, because of a poor grade, Mom was called into the principal’s office. The teacher had looked at Mom and curled her lips into a strange, knowing smirk. “I guessed she was your daughter right away. She has her father’s face, line for line. And her grades are just as hopeless, I see. But she certainly has a beautiful face, doesn’t she? No wonder you dropped out to run off with that man. Beauty is a curse, after all.” Her mocking gaze lingered on Mom. Mom forced a smile, a vein throbbing in her forehead. She dragged me roughly out of the school. A slap made my ears ring. “I’ve always treated you and your sister equally. What have I ever denied you? And this is the report card you bring me?” She squeezed my shoulder, her nails digging into my flesh. I bit my lip, afraid to speak. Compared to my clever, outgoing, and verbally charming sister, I had nothing to offer but my looks. I was always timid and awkward in everything I did. “She has his dirty blood in her veins. No wonder I can’t raise her right.” Mom spat the words out coldly that day. Even as a young child, I sensed something deeply wrong about the “father” figure. I gradually realized that Mom’s constant, subtle targeting and disgust were not my imagination. “Elaine, your father and I tried to stop you back then. You said you chose it. You chose to leave school to work, you chose to have those two children.” I stared at Mom, bewildered. She stood there, fists clenched, her face ashen. It was just like when we first returned to the country cabin, and Mom brought boxes of gifts. The women at the village entrance rolled their eyes, their laughter laced with bitterness. “Old Elaine thinks she’s so successful. Got her body taken and her money stolen, and she’s still strutting around like a queen.” Mom’s forced composure broke, and her shoulders slumped. She fled from their mocking eyes in humiliation. “I know you regret it. You hate him, but the children are innocent.” Nana Ruth coughed violently, her eyes filled with profound sadness. “If you don’t want Aubrey, let her stay with me. There’s no need to torture the child.” “What do you mean, I don’t want her!” Mom couldn’t contain her emotions anymore, her eyes bulging. She shrieked, “Did Scarlett have anything she didn’t? What does she have to complain about? Now she’s resorted to stealing from her sister. I’ve noticed before—when I share things out, her eyes are always glued to Scarlett’s. She is so greedy!” Mom seized upon this, railing against me without mercy. “She is an ungrateful leech, just like her father, disgusting.” “She is still just a child!” Nana Ruth pounded her fist on the nightstand. “Don’t think I don’t know. You buy Scarlett designer clothes for hundreds of dollars, and Aubrey the cheapest junk. Her winter jacket had a huge hole that she taped up with clear packing tape! I tried to fix it for her, but when I took it apart, the filling was nothing but rotting, stinking scraps of feather.” Nana Ruth’s voice choked, as if the memory was too painful. I was stunned. So the clothes weren’t always broken because I was careless or didn’t appreciate them. The itchy, foul-smelling jacket wasn’t because I was unclean. I had secretly touched Scarlett’s puffer coat. It was light and soft, like a cloud. Items that looked identical on the outside were truly different. It wasn’t my imagination. It wasn’t bad luck. And it definitely wasn’t Mom’s mistake. 3. Mom refused to speak to Nana Ruth anymore and simply turned to leave. She walked downstairs and locked the front door, acting as if she finally remembered I was still outside. She called out impatiently toward the yard: “Aubrey, get back inside right now!” Scarlett peered over the railing curiously, pouting. “Is Aubrey mad? We let her light the firework, and it was a giant one.” “Let her sulk. Tell her not to bother coming back.” Mom scoffed, locking the door with a sharp click. “There’s a doghouse in the yard. She’s too clever to actually hurt herself. She won’t die outside. Come on, Scarlett, let’s go up to bed. Don’t worry about her.” She led Scarlett upstairs to their room. My soul quietly floated and settled beside Mom. She was reading a picture book to Scarlett. The warm glow of the bedside lamp bathed her face, making her eyes look soft and gentle. I felt a sense of unfairness. Why did Scarlett get to lie against Mom’s chest and listen to stories? While I was tucked into a tiny, unheated utility closet, sleeping on a cramped cot made of metal scaffolding? In the winter, I had to hug my doll and curl into a tight ball just to stay warm enough to sleep. Now I understood. Mom simply didn’t like me. The “fairness” was a performance for me and for others. When it came to Scarlett, she had her own standard, and Scarlett had privileges. Yet, I still pressed against Mom’s back. Clinging to her warmth with an almost desperate greed. Mom’s bed was so soft. Mom smelled so nice… I was a soul now, transparent and non-corporeal. So why were tears still streaming from my eyes? The next morning, Mom prepared breakfast and called Scarlett to the table. “Where is Aubrey? Isn’t she up yet?” Nana Ruth forced herself out of bed, her tone urgent. “Mother, why aren’t you resting? What are you doing out of bed?” Mom seemed to remember my existence just then. She paused, her eyes clouding with that familiar impatience. “Where could she be? Hiding in a corner to cause a scene. She thinks she can steal and still be in the right. It seems I’ve been too kind to her.” Nana Ruth’s body shook. “Early in the morning, where could Aubrey have gone… She’s not in her room. The bed I made up for her is still untouched.” Nana Ruth murmured, then suddenly noticed a flicker of nervousness in Mom’s expression. She tapped her cane sharply, her face grim. “Elaine, tell me the truth. Where is the child? Did she… did she come home last night?” Nana Ruth asked the last part carefully. Mom shied away from her gaze, answering dismissively. “How should I know? She’s in elementary school. She’s not a toddler.” 4. Nana Ruth was choked with anger. Her breathing became shallow, and she clutched her chest, wheezing violently. Before Mom could offer a casual apology to placate her, Scarlett’s wail cut through the air. “No! This doll isn’t mine!” Scarlett rummaged through her suitcase. She held up a cheap, off-brand bunny doll and cried. “Look how crooked its face is and how messy its fur is! It’s a knock-off. Aubrey must have switched it with mine!” Teary-eyed, she pleaded with Mom. The doll she held was grubby, with a crooked face and a seam that was coming undone. Scarlett tossed it onto the floor in disgust. I desperately waved my hands, wanting to say no, that Scarlett must have packed the wrong one by mistake. But Mom kicked the doll aside and quickly knelt to wipe away Scarlett’s tears. See? They could easily tell the difference between my things and Scarlett’s. That doll was the one Scarlett had demanded when we went to Disney World. It cost almost fifty dollars. Mom paid for it without blinking. It wasn’t until she saw me clutching the hem of her jacket that Mom smiled, a strange, knowing smile, and said: “I’m so sorry, Aubrey, Mommy didn’t bring enough money today. Can I buy you one just like it online in a few days?” My eyes had instantly sparkled with delight. I chirped, “Yes, please!” For many years, I was a fool, happily content with Mom’s alleged “fairness.” “See, Mom? Aubrey is just like her father—disgusting. Was I wrong to say she’s a thief?” Mom seethed, seeing the other smudged dolls in the suitcase. Her face darkened. “How did these get dirty? Was Aubrey responsible for that too?” Scarlett hesitated for a second, then quickly nodded. The truth was, Scarlett had dirtied the dolls herself. It wasn’t the first time she’d falsely accused me. Whenever she made a mistake, she’d shout that I was the one who did it. Mom never cared about my explanations. She only saw Scarlett’s tears. “Worthless brat. She’s just jealous of Scarlett. I’ve been so good to her, and she’s still ungrateful? Why did I have to have an extra child? Why did I have to birth this scourge?” Mom’s words were sharp and hateful. Nana Ruth’s eyes widened, her chest heaving. She looked utterly devastated that such vile words could come from a mother’s mouth. “Fine, fine. You don’t want Aubrey, but I do.” Nana Ruth grabbed her cane and, trembling, headed for the front door. Mom frowned, trying to stop her, but Scarlett wailed again, tripping Mom up. “There, there. Mommy will buy you a few more, okay? Since your sister isn’t here, you can have as many as you want.” Mom gently soothed Scarlett. I couldn’t bear to watch this tender scene anymore. I followed Nana Ruth out into the yard. The wind was strong outside, causing Nana Ruth’s frail body to sway. “Aubrey, my sweet Aubrey—” She called out my name, her voice hoarse, but only the barking of the yard dog responded. She stood in the yard, lost and confused, tears welling in her ancient eyes. “Mom, stop looking! Let her sulk. If she doesn’t want to come back, she can die out there—” Mom’s angry voice drifted from inside the house. Several times before, Scarlett had locked me in a storage room, and Mom always assumed I was just being dramatic. “She must have done something bad and is afraid to come out.” Mom always presumed the worst about me. But now, Nana Ruth was heartbroken for me: “How much pain must this child be in…” She ignored Mom’s protests and insisted on walking outside the yard alone. There was a thin layer of frost on the ground, and Nana Ruth stumbled with every step, yet she refused to slow down. “Aubrey, Aubrey, where are you? Come to your Nana, quick—” She called tirelessly, her voice catching with sobs. “Don’t be afraid, child. Nana will protect you.” I drifted in the air, frantic and helpless. I watched, paralyzed, as Nana Ruth walked toward the empty field where I had set off the firework. Suddenly, she let out a piercing scream and collapsed onto the ground. Right in front of her was my unrecognizable corpse.

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When Hank was diagnosed with ALS, our family empire fell. I left college, shouldering his life and crushing debt. For five years, I bled for him. Beaten by debt collectors, I bought no painkillers. Collapsing between five jobs, I took no breaks. Every cent kept Hank alive. Tonight, serving drinks at a lounge, I saw him—not in a wheelchair at home, but laughing in a tailored suit. “Hank,” a friend said, swirling his drink, “you’ve played sick for five years. Stella’s worked herself raw for your ‘treatment.’ Isn’t that enough?” Hank scoffed. “Almost. If she hadn’t made Ivy cry with one selfish remark, I wouldn’t have faked bankruptcy and this illness to teach her.” He sipped his whiskey, looking perfectly healthy. “Ivy’s been abroad and is finally ready to forgive. I’ll stage a recovery, and Stella can return as our princess—her atonement.” “But ALS is terminal,” his friend objected. “Will she believe a recovery?” Hank laughed. “That naive girl believes every word I say. She’ll learn Ivy, as our adopted sister, needed kindness. I did this for her own good. I’ll make it up to her later.” I lowered my head, tears falling silently. But Hank, there is no “later” for us. Your illness was a lie. Mine is real. 1 A phantom wind sliced through the corridor, chilling me to the bone. I stood frozen, a puppet with its strings cut, enduring the slow, agonizing collapse of the world I had built for the last five years. It was a death by a thousand cuts, each slice carving away the faith that had been my only anchor. Hank’s friend, Ryan, sighed. “I gotta say, man, you’re ruthless. That’s your own sister. The genius from Westwood University. She threw it all away for you without a second thought. She’s barely in her twenties and she looks like she’s aged a decade. A few days ago, she was short three hundred bucks for your medicine. She even came to me for it.” Hank’s face instantly darkened. “Did you give it to her?” Ryan shook his head, looking weary. “You gave us all a direct order. You think I’d dare?” He paused, then added, “The poor kid knelt on my doorstep for a whole afternoon. She passed out from low blood sugar, but I couldn’t even take her to a hospital. When she came to, she just… picked herself up and walked away.” What Ryan didn’t say was that I had been truly desperate that day. I had offered him the only thing I had left to sell. I would have done anything for that money. Hank had been without his imported medication for a week, and I was terrified he would get worse. But Ryan had looked at me like he’d seen a ghost and practically threw me out of his house. Now I knew why. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to help me. He wasn’t allowed to. Hank let out a cold snort. “All of you, listen up. Until I bring Ivy home, nobody helps Stella. I don’t care if she’s kneeling, begging, or dying at your feet—you ignore her. Ivy is sensitive, she has depression. I’ve spent five years carefully managing her recovery while she traveled. If Stella’s punishment is cut short by even a single day, Ivy might get upset and have a relapse. And if any of you make my precious baby sister unhappy, I’ll make your entire family miserable.” The men exchanged uneasy glances, the absurdity of the situation hanging heavy in the air. Someone awkwardly cleared their throat. “Hank, aren’t you afraid that if Stella finds out the truth, she’ll… leave you?” At that, Hank burst out laughing. “Are you kidding me? We’re family. This is just a little spat, a domestic issue. Stella would die for me. You could put a knife to her throat and she wouldn’t leave my side. This is just a small lesson. Ivy, on the other hand, is different. She already feels like an outsider because she isn’t related to us by blood. It’s my duty to treat her better.” He fixed them all with a hard stare. “But remember this. What was said in this room tonight, stays in this room. If a single word gets back to Stella, our friendship is over.” I leaned against the wall, my limbs numb. So my five years of hell… they were nothing more than a joke. My life, my freedom, even my health… all of it was meaningless, easily discarded the moment Ivy shed a single tear. I wanted to laugh, but the only thing that came out was a stream of unstoppable tears. A phone rang inside the room, and footsteps headed for the door. I tried to scramble away but turned right into the path of the approaching manager. A tray of vintage champagne, worth tens of thousands, crashed to the floor. The manager’s face turned thunderous. With a vicious slap, she sent me sprawling to the ground. Just then, the door opened. Hank strode out, his eyes sweeping past us without a second glance as he opened his arms to a woman who fluttered toward him like a butterfly. It was Ivy. “Why did you come back on your own?” he cooed, wrapping her in a protective embrace. “I told you I’d come pick you up. Are you tired? I’ve arranged for a full spa team at home. They’ll take care of you.” Ivy giggled, her voice sickly sweet. “I missed you, Hank! I wanted to surprise you!” I was still on my knees less than a yard away from them, wearing a cheap mask, too terrified to move or speak. The dazzling diamonds on Ivy’s heels blinded me, each brilliant stone a sharp stab in my heart. A single one of those gems could have paid for a year of Hank’s “medicine.” The manager stammered, interrupting their reunion. “Mr. Vance, my deepest apologies. Your champagne… this clumsy idiot ruined it.” 2 A pair of polished black leather shoes stopped right in front of me. The manager, recognizing his status, was desperate to appease him. “Mr. Vance, I’m so sorry this idiot disturbed your reunion with your sister. She can’t even hold a tray steady. I’ll have someone bring you a new selection right away.” She grabbed my arm, her fingers digging into my flesh with a sharp, twisting motion. The pain was nothing compared to the agony of a broken rib from a debt collector’s boot, but I flinched anyway, my insides coiling into a tight knot of shame. Hank frowned, his voice sharp with impatience. “That’s enough.” The manager pointed a trembling finger at me. “Since you’re the one who broke them, you’ll pick up every last shard of glass from this hallway with your bare hands. If my sister steps on a single piece, you’ll swallow one.” The hallway was carpeted with a thick, plush runner that muffled all sound. The tiny, sharp fragments of glass were embedded deep within the fibers, nearly invisible. I got onto my hands and knees and began to feel my way through the carpet, my palms pressing down, searching for the sharp edges. Ivy watched me for a moment, her eyes narrowed, before turning to Hank and pouting. “Hank, I’m tired.” “My little princess,” he murmured. “Let’s get you out of here. It’s too dangerous.” The black leather shoe stepped onto the back of my hand, pressed down, and ground into my skin before moving on, its owner completely oblivious. I remained on my knees, staring at the tiny shard of glass now embedded in my palm. The tears finally stopped, replaced by a raw, broken laugh. The manager recoiled, her eyes wide with alarm. “What’s wrong with you? Your nose is bleeding!” I staggered to my feet, wiping the blood away with the back of my sleeve. “I guess… I’m just about to die.” Without a backward glance at her shocked face, I walked away, leaving a trail of blood drops on the expensive carpet. When I got back to our tiny apartment and pushed the door open, a crash echoed from the kitchen. Hank was on the floor, struggling to pull himself up from his overturned wheelchair. He saw me standing in the doorway, and his eyes reddened with shame, like a child caught doing something wrong. “Stella… I just wanted to make you something to eat…” His voice was thick and slurred. “I’m so useless, just a worthless cripple!” His words were garbled, saliva mixing with tears as they streamed down his face. He looked every bit the part of a helpless, broken man who had been paralyzed for years. A distant memory flickered in my mind. Before the ‘diagnosis,’ Hank had been a severe germaphobe. He was a man who washed his hands twenty times a day, who couldn’t tolerate a single speck of dust on his clothes. Yet, for Ivy, he had endured this filthy, undignified existence for five whole years. Five years. I had been trapped in the web of his masterful, deceitful performance, a clown in his private circus. In that moment, I wanted to rip open his chest and see what lay inside. Was it flesh and blood, or cold, hard stone? Seeing my silence, Hank’s head drooped. “Stella… are you starting to hate me?” he whispered. “You should. I’m just a burden. I can’t keep dragging you down like this. Just go. Leave me here. Let me just… rot.” He sat there amidst the mess on the floor, stubbornly gripping the armrest of his wheelchair, veins popping on his arms as he tried and failed to get up. I walked over in silence, righted the wheelchair, and helped him into it. Then I went to the bathroom, wrung out a washcloth, and came back to clean his face and hands. I had performed this routine for five years. The motions were so familiar they felt etched into my very bones. He grabbed my wrist, his eyes falling on the cut in my palm. “What happened? Who hurt you?” I stared into his eyes, at the flicker of concern that seemed so genuine it made my heart ache. A bitter taste rose in my throat. “I did. I was hurt by someone who looks a lot like you.” I held his gaze, my voice steady. “It was at the Starlight Lounge.” 3 I watched the muscles in Hank’s jaw tighten. A small, sad smile touched my lips. “But I know it wasn’t you. My brother would never lie to me. Right?” My stare made him squirm. He looked away, his voice strained. “Of course not. You’re my only family, Stella. I would never, ever lie to you.” I swallowed the suffocating grief in my throat, turning away before he could see the tears welling in my eyes. I pushed his wheelchair out of the kitchen. When I finished cooking and came out, the living room was empty. I walked to his bedroom door and heard his hushed voice on the phone. “Be good now. I’ve planned the biggest birthday party for you. I’ll be there tomorrow to celebrate with you personally.” Ivy’s voice on the other end was laced with mock concern. “But tomorrow is Stella’s birthday too. If you don’t spend it with her, won’t she be upset?” “You silly girl,” he murmured. “You’re my only precious sister. Your happiness is all that matters. Stella hasn’t celebrated her birthday in five years; she’s used to it. One more year won’t make a difference.” Ivy’s squeal of delight was sharp enough to cut through the door. “I knew you loved me best, Hank!” I stood there for a long time before quietly taking off my apron and walking out of the apartment. When Hank emerged from his room, I was gone. On the table was a bowl of soft-boiled noodles, easy for him to swallow, and one of his imported pills. He knew I had a night shift to get to. But the image of my wounded hand, my unnaturally pale face, and my painfully thin frame as I cooked for him flashed in his mind. A sudden panic seized him as he realized he couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen me smile, couldn’t recall the bright, vibrant girl I used to be. Something sharp and cold pierced his chest. A disquieting mix of unease and guilt began to creep in, silent and suffocating. He snatched his phone and quickly dialed a number. The next day, I took Hank for a check-up. His doctor was practically buzzing with excitement. “Ms. Vance, we’ve just received incredible news! A private research facility in Switzerland has developed a new experimental drug for ALS. The clinical trials have been extremely successful, and they’re only accepting two more participants. I’ve managed to secure a spot for your brother.” In contrast to his enthusiasm, I was calm. “What are the chances of a full recovery?” “Eighty percent.” Playing his part perfectly, Hank began to weep with joy. “Stella, I can get better! I can really get better! I’ll be able to stay with you forever!” I forced a smile. “If only one of us could live, Hank, I would always, always want it to be you.” He froze, taken aback by my solemn tone. The act seemed to fall away for a second. He frowned, his words sharp and clear. “Don’t say such foolish things. We’re both going to be fine. When I get better, I’ll rebuild the Vance Group, and you’ll be our family’s princess again.” But that’s a crown I no longer want. And a brother… I’m willing to give to Ivy. The doctor ushered me out of his office, claiming the preparatory tests would take a long time. In the past, I would have believed him, using every precious minute to rush off to one of my part-time jobs while Hank was being ‘treated.’ Now, I knew it was just an excuse to get me out of the way. I stood in the empty corner of the hallway and watched as Hank, no longer needing his wheelchair, changed into a fresh set of clothes and strode confidently into the elevator. Down below, a luxury car was already waiting for him. I numbly turned away and walked into a different doctor’s office down the hall. “Ms. Vance, the tumor is too large for surgery now. If you had come in even two weeks ago, there might have been a chance.” The doctor sighed, his expression grim. “You have a few days, at most. It’s time to say goodbye to your family.” I was silent for a long moment before giving a small nod. “After I die, please have me cremated. Deliver my ashes to the Vance estate and give them to the CEO of the Vance Group, Hank Vance.” I left the little money I had on his desk and walked out of the hospital. My phone buzzed with a text message. “Come to the villa. You should see this.” It was from Ivy. I took a taxi to the city’s most exclusive gated community. After five years, the home I thought had been sold off long ago was now ablaze with lights and life. A lavish party was in full swing, guests dripping with wealth, a world away from the lonely figure standing outside the ornate iron gates. Ivy, wearing a sparkling tiara and a custom-made gown, stood beside a six-tier cake, her arm linked possessively through Hank’s. She was surrounded by a mountain of presents. She closed her eyes and made a wish. “I wish I could be my brother’s only sister, and be his little princess forever.” Hank reached into his pocket and pulled out a small velvet box. The moment he opened it, the blood in my veins turned to ice. 4 It was the family crest pendant. When we were born, our parents had a master artisan craft two identical ones. They were blessed for a full year, inscribed with our names, and placed around our necks. They were our parents’ hopes and blessings, a symbol of the Vance legacy. After they died, it was the only thing I had left of them. Even in my most desperate moments, I had never considered selling it. Now, I saw that Hank had replaced my name with Ivy’s. In front of everyone, he solemnly fastened the chain around her neck. “My little princess,” he said, his voice full of warmth. “Congratulations. Your wish has come true.” I don’t know how I managed to walk away. My phone started vibrating relentlessly. A string of messages from Ivy. “I recognized you at the lounge the other day, you know.” “Did you get a good look tonight?” “The pendant is mine now. Hank is mine, too. You’re like a pathetic stray dog that nobody wants.” “You’re such a failure. Why don’t you just die, big sister? Tee-hee.” When I didn’t respond, a final message appeared. “Oh, and by the way, I had Hank send you a little birthday present. I hope you enjoy it.” I wandered the streets like a ghost for hours, finally making my way back to the cramped apartment in a daze. Only then did I discover what Ivy’s “birthday present” was. The door was wide open. The room was ransacked. And Hank was on the floor, pinned down by several large men. He was thrashing like a cornered animal, a sight so horribly familiar it made my whole body tremble. The ghost of pain from my once-broken ribs flared up again. “Well, well, look who it is,” the lead thug sneered, picking his teeth. “When are you paying this month’s debt?” My face was pale. “What are you talking about? I paid everything off.” He spat on the floor. “I say you still owe, so you still owe. Don’t wanna pay? I wonder how many hits with this pipe your brother’s brittle bones can take.” He tapped the iron pipe against Hank’s back for emphasis. “Stella, it’s my fault!” Hank cried out, his voice choked with fake despair. “Don’t worry about me! Just run! I’m just a cripple! If they kill me, they kill me! I don’t want to be a burden on you anymore!” The exact same words I had heard a hundred times over the past five years. I looked at the men, then at my brother on the floor—disheveled and pathetic, yet his eyes were sharp and clear. And I finally understood. It was laughable that I hadn’t seen it before. In all the times they had come for their money, they had never once laid a hand on him. But me? To protect my deceitful brother, I’d had my ribs broken, my leg fractured. I was covered in scars. Swallowing the painful lump in my throat, I asked in a raw voice, “What do you want?” The leader looked me up and down, a cruel grin spreading across his face. “You know, I really don’t like your stubborn attitude. So here’s the deal. We’ve got about a dozen guys here. You crawl through each of our legs and bark like a dog three times, and we’ll call it even for today. Just a bit of fun.” “NO!” Hank roared. “Stella, don’t you dare do it!” A hollow, lifeless laugh escaped my lips. The last flicker of warmth in my heart died out. “If this is what you want,” I whispered, my words meant for only one person, “then consider us even.” Though I was speaking to the thug, Hank flinched as if I’d struck him. He looked panicked, opening his mouth to say something, but then he remembered his promise to Ivy. This was the last time. The final punishment. After this, he would restore my identity as the Vance heiress. He would never let me suffer again. He clung to that thought, confident that he had a lifetime to make it up to me. He looked away, pulling out his phone to secretly take a picture of my humiliation to send to Ivy.

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My ex-boyfriend, Carter Sterling, pretended to be poor for three years while we were together. When he found out my mom urgently needed money for surgery, he even faked losing his job so I would have to support him. I finally couldn’t play along anymore. I dumped him and married the billionaire who was pursuing me. Today, I went to a client’s wedding, only to find the groom was Carter Sterling. I overheard his groomsmen teasing him— “Remember when Carter insisted on playing the ‘true love’ game? Still got dumped.” “What a pity. Faking unemployment was actually the final test. If she had just held on a little longer, she would be the bride today.” “If that gold digger knew she dumped the heir to the Sterling Group, she’d probably be green with regret, haha.” Actually, I knew everything. Chapter 1 Seeing Carter Sterling again was at my client’s wedding. He was the groom. Dressed in an expensive bespoke suit, hair meticulously styled, he looked noble and arrogant—nothing like the destitute man from back then. I didn’t plan on saying hello. Our breakup wasn’t exactly amicable. I dumped him. At the time, he knelt on the ground, crying and begging me to stay, but I didn’t look back once. Finally, he uttered cruel words: “Maya Zhao, don’t you regret walking out that door. Even if you crawl back later, I won’t even look at you!” I left without hesitation. I had lived with him in that cramped rental apartment for three years. I had enough. Running into him at his wedding was awkward. I turned to leave, but heard the groomsmen surrounding Carter, teasing him— “Remember when Carter insisted on playing the ‘true love’ game? Still got dumped.” “What a pity. Faking unemployment was actually the final test. If she had just held on a little longer, she would be the bride today.” “If that gold digger knew she dumped the heir to the Sterling Group, she’d probably be green with regret, haha.” Amidst his friends’ laughter, Carter sneered contemptuously. “Even if she regrets it, it’s too late.” I knew the “gold digger” they were talking about was me. So, they really thought I broke up with him because he was poor. Actually, I had known the truth for a long time. Chapter 2 Over a year into dating Carter Sterling. I was working part-time at a five-star hotel when I saw him walk in wearing a designer suit, inspecting the place. The manager called him “Mr. Sterling.” That was when I learned the hotel was his family’s property. The Sterling family was considered old money in New York. My poor, destitute first love turned out to be a wealthy heir! For me, it was like a drama turning into reality. I didn’t have the aloof pride of a drama heroine; instead, I felt like I hit the jackpot. Because I was certain Carter truly loved me. He would comfort me when I was sad and take care of me patiently when I was sick. Rich or poor, he was the best boyfriend. Since he liked playing the “poor man” game, I decided to play along. Until later, when my mom fell ill and urgently needed money for surgery, and he still happily played poor to test me. I finally got tired. I dumped him and married the billionaire who was pursuing me. Sorry to disappoint Carter and his bros, but I don’t regret it one bit! Suddenly, the bride walked over, grabbed my hand, and pulled me in front of Carter. Excitedly, she introduced me: “Carter, look! This is Miss Maya Zhao, one of the owners of the Azure Gallery I told you about. “I told you we look alike, but you didn’t believe me.” The man looked up. After a brief moment of distraction, he looked at me coldly. “Indeed very similar. But not as beautiful or young as my wife.” Chapter 3 The bride, Lily Moore, was my client. Half a month ago, she came to my gallery looking to buy some art for her new home. When we saw each other clearly, we were both stunned. We looked at least 60-70% alike. We hit it off immediately. Lily visited the gallery four or five times, bought eight paintings, and generously swiped her black card for five million dollars. Before leaving, she gave me the address of an estate and warmly invited me to her wedding. These days, she often mentioned her fiancé casually. Young, talented, a rich second generation, handsome, and generous to her. Just preparing the wedding cost over ten million. When talking about this, Lily’s face was full of happiness, lamenting how lucky she was. She was just a fresh college grad from an ordinary family, yet she managed to snag such a catch. She was indeed luckier than me. I met Carter right after college. Unfortunately, he kept pretending to be poor with me. Not only did he not spend money on me, he spent mine. I waited three years, and he had no intention of marrying me. Considering Lily was a big client and I wanted to expand my network, I accepted the invitation. But I really didn’t expect the groom to be Carter. Chapter 4 The man sized me up as if looking at a stranger he had never met. The bride coquettishly scolded him: “Don’t talk nonsense, she’s my friend.” Carter took the bride’s hand from mine. “Watch your bracelet. It’s the one I gave you, worth over two million. Careful that some vain people don’t eye it.” I knew he was deliberately taking a jab at me. Two million. So, Carter could be generous enough to buy such an expensive gift for a girlfriend. I touched my own wrist. There was a bracelet there too. Carter gave it to me. Two hundred bucks. It was when we were poorest. He said he earned it by wearing a mascot costume. In the 90-degree summer heat, he came back soaked in sweat. I didn’t know then he had just come back from the gym. I was both heartbroken and moved. I stayed up late drawing designs and used my freelance money to buy him a five-hundred-dollar watch for his birthday. Looking at his wrist now, that watch had long been replaced by a Patek Philippe. This was his true self. Fact: Feeling sorry for a man brings a lifetime of bad luck. I chuckled lightly. “Miss Moore is truly blessed. Your husband is so generous. Unlike my ex-boyfriend—no parents, lived off me, ate my food, and even the bracelet he bought was only two hundred bucks.” Carter’s face darkened. Lily defended me indignantly: “He sounds like a scumbag. Good thing you broke up.” Carter cleared his throat. “Maybe some people only deserve two-hundred-dollar bracelets. Unlike my Lily, who needs to be pampered. Any amount is worth it.” So, in his heart, I wasn’t worthy. Looking at the hypocritical Carter, I couldn’t help but laugh. “You two are so in love, it’s enviable. I wish you a happy wedding and a lifetime together.” I made an excuse to leave. But Carter got anxious. “Miss Zhao is leaving so soon? Is this wedding not luxurious enough for your eyes?” I heard the sarcasm in his tone. Curling my lips, I replied with one word—”Yes.” My wedding with my husband, Lucas Thorne, was held on a private island he just bought. We only invited close friends and family. Low-key, not overly extravagant, but it was my favorite. I didn’t care for the wedding Carter prepared for another woman. Chapter 5 I refused the bride’s attempts to make me stay and insisted on leaving. Behind me, the bride’s complaining voice arose. “Carter, what’s wrong with you today? You’re talking so weirdly. “She came specially to congratulate us. You’re being so rude.” Even though she was naive, she sensed something wrong in the man’s tone. Someone in the groomsmen group suddenly mentioned: “Maya Zhao, that name sounds familiar. Isn’t that…” “Shut up.” Carter interrupted him angrily. I walked out of the estate and waited for the driver to bring the car around. A gust of wind blew sand into my eyes, and I rubbed them. With the sound of hurried footsteps approaching, a hand reached out and grabbed my arm tightly. I turned back and met Carter’s cold face. “Don’t misunderstand. Lily insisted I come out to apologize to you. “Don’t you have anything to ask me?” I shook my head. “No.” Carter scoffed, looking at my teary eyes, and sneered: “Maya Zhao, stop being stubborn. “You’re leaving so fast because you don’t want me to see you looking pathetic, right? “Back then you dumped me because I was poor. Now seeing I’m rich, you must regret it.” Regret? Yes. I regret not breaking up sooner and accepting Lucas’s pursuit. That way, I could have bowed to poverty sooner, let my mom have the surgery, and she wouldn’t be left with sequelae, confined to a wheelchair now.

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