Category: English

The world is just one big, hastily assembled stage, and everyone is faking it. And me? I’m shockingly mediocre. My dad is a Wall Street tycoon, yet I can barely do simple addition. My mom is an Oscar-winning actress, and I look like the definition of “plain.” My brother held his first solo art exhibition at age four, while at age five, I was still chasing him around drooling. Even our housekeeper, Mrs. Higgins, and our butler, Mr. Chen, were secretly retired legends in their fields. Luckily, they all spoiled me rotten. I eventually made peace with my mediocrity… Until one day, a viral “genius girl” showed up at our door, demanding I hand over my spot as the real heiress. Great. The other shoe I’ve been waiting for my whole life finally dropped. Chapter 1 I’ve always felt like an alien in this family. My dad, Richard Sterling, is a financial shark. My mom, Isabella Sterling, is an international movie star. But me? Average brain, average face. They say extremes breed opposites, and my brother, Ethan, is proof. He’s the complete package: launched his art career at four, joined MENSA at eight, and by fifteen was voted one of the “Top 10 Most Handsome Faces” globally. I wanted to be jealous. I wanted to crawl in the shadows and hiss. But in the end, I chose self-acceptance. After all, the gene pool can’t always produce winners. I was living my best “eat, sleep, do nothing” life. Until she showed up. The viral genius, Luna Davis. “The nurse at the hospital confessed on her deathbed! We were switched at birth. I am the true Miss Sterling!” “Look at you! You’re so… ordinary. How could you possibly be their daughter?” “Today, I’m taking back everything that belongs to me!” Luna stood alone in our foyer, but she had the energy of an entire army. Her confidence was so overwhelming that my whole family—no, me and the other family of three—fell into deep contemplation. My cold, distant Dad: “A switch?” My glamorous Mom: “How would I know? I was too busy counting stretch marks. Didn’t we hand the baby to Arthur?” My stoic brother, Ethan, stayed silent for three seconds before coldly dropping: “I was three.” Mom paused, then tried to deflect again. “But you loved holding the baby! You kept asking if you could share your ‘new toy’ with your little girlfriend, Nana.” “Nana wasn’t my girlfriend.” “But she called me ‘Mom’ every time she saw me…” I was sitting on pins and needles. Luna didn’t look too happy either. Seeing Mom and Ethan getting sidetracked, I stood up. “Dad, Mom, Ethan, look at my face. Then look at hers. Don’t we look more like a family?” I pointed at myself. I touched my painfully average face and nodded in agreement with Luna’s assessment. Growing up, Ethan got compliments like “Handsome,” “Striking,” “A carbon copy of Richard.” Me? I got: “She looks very… healthy.” Depressing. “And I’ve been a straight-A student my whole life! Top of the class! But from what I hear, she has always been at the bottom. She even bought her college degree!” Luna continued presenting her evidence. I lowered my head in shame. Since kindergarten, Ethan was always undeniably first. I was always indisputably last. One teacher didn’t believe I was hopeless and tried to tutor me privately. She ended up in the ICU with a stress-induced migraine. In her delirium, she held my hand and whispered: “What is the relationship between X and Y…?” I felt guilty. So, the night before the next exam, I stayed up all night memorizing the entire math textbook. The result? I became the first student in school history to fill the entire exam paper with correct formulas but get a score of zero because none of them applied to the questions. I went viral for a week. Thinking back on this, I looked at my parents and brother with a heavy heart. “Is it possible… that maybe you guys really are a family?” Dad fell into deep thought. Mom looked pensive. Ethan’s gaze turned heavy. Luna was still shouting: “Mom, Dad, don’t you believe me? I’ve been suffering out there for eighteen years! Now that I’m back, how can you not believe me?” Just as the atmosphere reached a boiling point, Mrs. Higgins, who had been standing in the shadows, spoke up. “Sir, Madam, Ethan, Miss Mia… actually, there is a technology called a DNA test.” Chapter 2 The DNA test process was smooth. The results would take a month. Luna wasn’t happy. She started arguing with the clinic staff. “Why do I have to wait a month?” “Because you have to wait in line like everyone else.” “Do you know who I am?” “A citizen.” “Who gave you the nerve to talk to me like that?” “The Constitution.” The clerk was deadpan. Luna was hopping mad. I was cringing so hard my toes curled. A crowd started to gather. I couldn’t watch anymore, so I went over and tugged her arm. “Let’s just wait. It’s only a month…” Luna shook me off. “Shut up! Of course you want to squat in my nest for another month! But I won’t give you the chance!” She grabbed the clerk’s lab coat. “I order you to get the results today, or face the consequences!” Chapter 3 The consequence was Luna getting a three-day detention for disturbing the peace. Three days later, she showed up at our door again. She demanded to move in, claiming she wanted to feel the “warmth of family” she had missed for years. Cold Dad: “Mrs. Higgins, prepare a room.” Luna cried tears of joy. “Mom and Dad have already accepted me in their hearts! This is wonderful. From now on, I’ll be by your side every day.” She shot me a provocative glare and announced loudly: “I’m going to make up for all the lost time!” I turned away, trying to keep a straight face. Make up for lost time? Since I can remember, I woke up every day in a 5,000-square-foot mansion and ate breakfast at a 20-foot-long table. The only consistent members of the household were Mrs. Higgins, Mr. Chen, Ethan (on weekends), and the two Dobermans in the yard. “Lonely, Cold, and Empty” were the tags of my childhood. As a teenager, my favorite hobby was looking up at the sky at a 45-degree angle, posting melancholic updates like “Money can’t buy love” on Instagram. That stopped the year Ethan screenshotted my posts, blew them up to poster size, and played them as a slideshow during Thanksgiving dinner. I didn’t want to relive that social death. I felt a pang of sympathy for Luna. Her dream was doomed. But my glamorous Mom laughed delightedly, clapping her hands. “That’s wonderful! I also want to make up for lost regrets! You’re so pretty; I’m going to dress you up like the most stunning princess!” Stunning princess? Ethan and I simultaneously took a step back. We looked at each other, wanted to speak, but decided against it. … “I have so many beautiful clothes that no one wears. Finally, I have a model!” “Mom, if you want, I’ll be your model forever!” “Really? Oh, you’re so sweet. I’m going to cry.” Luna was basking in the attention. She glanced at me from the corner of her eye. “Mom, didn’t you ever dress up… her?” “I guess not. Since she’s not your real daughter, you wouldn’t be as close…” “Just like those dogs outside. Only a real mother and child have that bond. Fakes can never be real!” Luna was waxing poetic. “Look at how the dogs lean on each other… it mirrors our family…” I couldn’t help it. “Rex and Buster are both male.” Luna froze. Me: “And they were neutered ten years ago.” Luna’s face went through a rainbow of colors. But soon, she recovered her smug expression. Mom excitedly dragged her upstairs. Before leaving, Luna gave me a victorious look. She didn’t notice the pity in my eyes. Good luck, girl. Chapter 4 Lunchtime. Four people at the table. Me, Ethan, Mom, and… Her. She looked like a walking explosion of dopamine dressing. A massive ballgown, heavy jewelry, and a towering hat. Not high fashion—just high. I looked at Luna, who was balancing an eight-layer cake decoration on her head and painted white like a Victorian ghost. My sympathy reached new heights. Growing up, Mom tried to turn me into a doll. But my mediocrity and laziness always defeated her. Ethan inherited Dad’s “death glare,” which shut Mom down instantly. Mom had suppressed her urge for years. Now, the dam had broken. I watched Luna, who couldn’t sit down because of her corset, trying to eat while standing. She tried to take a bite, and lead powder from her face fell into her soup. Ethan: “It’s not Christmas. Why is there a tree at the table?” Pfft. I laughed. Mom pouted. “Doesn’t she look beautiful? Like a doll…” Ethan: “Dolls don’t need to breathe. She looks like she’s about to pass out.” Mom looked guilty and checked on Luna. I don’t know what possessed Luna, but facing Mom’s concern, she forced a smile that looked more like a grimace. “No, I’m fine.” “Don’t force it,” I advised kindly. She didn’t appreciate it. “You wouldn’t understand. A parent’s love is heavy like a mountain. This isn’t a burden; it’s the weight of their love!” As soon as she said “weight of love,” a crisp crack echoed in the room. Luna’s expression twisted. She started to shake. Finally, the weight of the eight-layer hat won. She toppled backward with a deafening crash. Chaos ensued. Indeed. Parental love is heavy as a mountain.

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I was just about to slip a McDonald’s bag into the struggling main character’s desk. The barrage of scrolling comments, the comments, flashed across my vision: [The Drama Queen side character is using food she won’t eat to ‘feed’ the hero again. Seriously, does having a little money make her better than us?] [She’s pure evil. She saw the hero only had eyes for our sweet main girl, so she harassed and targeted her until the poor thing had to transfer schools.] [Keep bullying him, side girl! Once your family is broke, the hero will seize your assets, force you into marriage, lock you up, and torture you mentally and physically before you meet your miserable end! ~] I snatched my hand back as if burned. Then, I turned and tossed the McDonald’s right onto the desk of my sworn enemy. Oh, I’d feed the stray dog outside before I’d give anything to that guy! 1 Garrett Blackwood was lounging in his chair, one long leg propped casually over the other. He raised an eyebrow, glancing at the familiar yellow bag on his desk, and let out a chuckle that held no humor. “Princess Hart, are you sure this is for me? The sun must have risen in the west.” He picked up the bag delicately, as if it might be contaminated. “Don’t tell me you’re treating me like your personal trash can, disposing of things your precious Alex didn’t want. That’s just bad karma.” The comments stuttered. Then a wave of question marks filled my screen. [Why did the side character give the McDonald’s to someone else?] [What else? She knows her sad attempts won’t get the hero’s attention, so she’s trying a different angle.] [I’m so sick of this spoiled, drama-obsessed rich girl. She’s the literal opposite of our kind and resilient Finny. I can’t wait for Alex to be reunited with his elite family so this side character can get her comeuppance! Lock her up! Torture her!] The horrific stream of comments, wishing me dead, coupled with Garrett’s usual cryptic passive-aggression, left me feeling frayed. I glared at him, annoyed. “Garrett Blackwood, consider it a gift. If you don’t want it, just say so…” Just then, Alexander “Alex” Donovan walked in. He saw me standing next to his desk, talking to Garrett. His expression instantly froze over. “Stella Hart, what did you just put in my desk?” His voice was low and icy. “I’m going to tell you one more time: I don’t need your high-and-mighty, fake charity. I don’t like you, and please, respect yourself.” The cold misjudgment stung, leaving a hollow ache in my chest. But on the outside, I gave nothing away. I lifted my chin, projecting a false bravado. “Alex, I didn’t put anything in your desk, and I never will again. I don’t like you. Don’t… don’t flatter yourself.” Seraphina “Finny” Cole, who had walked in behind Alex, knitted her delicate brows. She looked at me, her tone soft but laced with disapproval. “Stella, you’re really going too far. You shouldn’t constantly use money to insult and trample on people’s dignity.” She sighed dramatically. “You already caused him a lot of trouble last time, and some truly awful rumors started…” I blinked at her, utterly bewildered, and remained silent. Why does everyone always twist my intentions? Is trying to discretely help someone with their tuition really ‘trampling on their dignity’? Garrett let out a dismissive scoff. He rapped his knuckles sharply on his desk. “Alex Donovan, do you suffer from delusions? And you, Finny, the one who always joins the witch-hunt the second it starts, would you both mind taking a look? Is there anything in Alex’s desk? Why are you creating drama?” 2 Right in front of Alex, Garrett reached into the bag. He pulled out a Mac Spicy. He ripped open the wrapper and took a huge, satisfying bite. He grinned at Alex, his eyes full of meaning. “Free breakfast tastes great. Not everyone is an ungrateful jerk, you know.” He then turned his head to me, drawing out his words. “Thanks, Princess Hart.” My heart hammered against my ribs. I shot Garrett a grateful look. “You’re welcome.” Alex scoffed, walking to his seat. He subtly glanced into his desk drawer. He immediately froze. Finny bit her lip, looking from Alex to me, appearing utterly heartbroken. I ignored both of them. I walked back to my own seat and sat down, feigning composure, though I was completely deflated inside. What a mess. The comments filled the screen with question marks. [Who is this loudmouth guy, and why is he talking to our hero and heroine like that?] [Ugh, our sweet Finny is so upset! Of course, every evil side character has a jerk of a side-guy who defends her unconditionally.] [This venomous witch! She definitely just used this method to get the hero’s attention. She’ll be disappointed, though.] The comments was getting increasingly aggressive, but I managed to piece together the entire backstory. This world was the setting for a decades-old, trope-filled romance novel. It featured the whole spectrum: high school romance, broken hearts, a ‘chase-the-heroine-and-burn-in-hell’ arc, and a lot of emotional abuse. The hero, Alex Donovan, was the long-lost son of an old-money New York elite family. He’d met the heroine, Finny Cole, in an orphanage. They reunited in high school and were deeply in love, secretly pining for each other. I, the villainous side character, wanted Alex because he was the campus hottie. I repeatedly used money to ‘humiliate’ him, trying to force him into a relationship with me. I also secretly targeted and framed Finny, forcing her to transfer schools in disgrace. Alex never forgave me for that. And so, after he was reunited with his elite family, the revenge began. He systematically destroyed my family’s business. But that wasn’t enough. He then forced me to marry him. I was locked in a dark room, abused, physically and mentally, until I became a shivering, broken mess, begging for his attention like a dog. It was at that point that Alex and Finny reunited. Their old flame reignited. But Alex didn’t want Finny to know about my existence, or his dark side. In the end, he burned me alive… I shivered, pulling my eyes away from the screen, a cold dread creeping up my spine. The way the comments described “me” and these events… it felt off. 3 Yes, I had a crush on Alex. I was particularly drawn to his cool, aloof, and ridiculously handsome face. Especially when he wore his wire-rimmed glasses. He looked exactly like a cold, genius scholar from one of my favorite animes. So I started observing him. I wondered why he was so tall yet so skinny. Why he always skipped the cafeteria, eating only a stale roll at his desk. Even though he clearly looked like he was struggling financially, why hadn’t he applied for the school’s financial aid program? I even had my dad’s assistant, Brandon Davies, check with the school to see if there was some administrative oversight. Brandon’s reply was shocking. “Alex Donovan doesn’t meet the school’s need-based requirements, and he hasn’t applied.” “However, his family’s finances aren’t bad, but his parents are inexplicably harsh on him. They make him sleep on the porch, even though they have an extra room, and he works every night at the street market just to earn his tuition.” “The counselors tried a home visit, worried about his stress affecting college applications, but it didn’t help…” I was horrified. Alex was having a genuinely awful life! After a week of surveillance, I dragged my best friend from the next class to the street market to support him. Alex was selling fancy, homemade layered puddings and mochi cakes. When I arrived, his booth was empty. He hadn’t sold a thing. I intended to buy everything he had. But I reached into my bag and realized my phone had been stolen. Just as I started to panic, I made eye contact with Alex. My nerves shot through the roof. I don’t know what came over me, but I whipped out my AmEx Black Card. The words flew out of my mouth: “How much—is the whole booth? I’ll buy you.” Crap. I was so nervous I completely misspoke. I bit my lip, scrambling to explain. “No! Alex, I meant, how much for all of this? I’ll take it all.” Alex’s face grew colder by the second. I felt desperate and my words tumbled out. “I don’t mean anything by it. It’s just, if you’re having financial trouble, I could cover your tuition. That way, you wouldn’t have to work so hard and you’d have more time to study… College applications are really important.” I was being as careful as I possibly could. I’d never been this tentative in my life. But Alex still erupted in anger. He looked at me with cold disgust. “Stella Hart, do you think this is a joke? What do your finances have to do with me?” “You pulled the same stunt with the student body president in ninth grade. Were you following me just for this moment? Did you think I’d be impressed and fall for you? No. You make me sick.” The rapid-fire accusations left me stunned. My friend, seeing the growing crowd, quickly pulled me away. Once we were safely in the car, she finally dared to speak loudly. “My Queen, you can’t offer to sponsor someone by just throwing an AmEx Black Card at them! His face was charcoal gray. Of course, he misunderstood.” I averted my gaze sheepishly. “It was my first time.” “And what was that about buying him? You’re still a student! You can’t just go around talking about—” I quickly clapped a hand over her mouth. “Shh! I told you, I misspoke!” Sigh. The misunderstanding was massive. My crush was officially over. My friend, seeing my glum face, offered a suggestion. Her eyes brightened. “Alex is just super sensitive about his pride, but he is cute. How about this? You help him secretly, but drop subtle clues. That way, you save his pride. That’s how it happens in all the books! The hero eventually falls for the heroine who quietly supports him.” I nodded thoughtfully. Hmm, that makes sense. And so, I started two operations: One: I had my father’s assistant arrange for a scholarship to Alex in the name of the Hart Family Foundation. Two: I started stuffing his desk drawer with expensive breakfasts: Black Truffle Eggs Benedict, Lobster Omelets, Foie Gras Crêpes, etc., inside a discreet, designer-branded lunch tote. Every day was different. I sometimes included a necessity, like a $1,000 Montblanc pen. But Alex remained stone-cold to me, only thawing when he looked at Finny. He threw everything I gave him to his desk-mate. The worst part? His desk-mate actually tried to hit on me yesterday. [Princess, I’ll be your little lapdog. I promise to be way more obedient than Alex, and I’ll do anything you want. I’m the starting player on the basketball team, and I have a six-pack, you can check them out…] The audacity scared me so much I immediately blocked his number. I sighed. Today, I intentionally swapped the gourmet breakfast for McDonald’s—I’d heard from a classmate that Alex secretly loved the Spicy Chicken Sandwich. Good thing I didn’t give it to him. Since Alex hated me and my misguided attempts so much, I decided I was done with the crush. As for the comments calling me the villainess? They were wrong. I was going to be the lead of my own life. 4 After evening study hall, to reward Garrett for his performance earlier, I invited him to the nearby street market for dinner. Garrett was initially reluctant, letting out a soft “Tch.” “Princess, if you’re treating, I expect French or at least steakhouse fare. What’s the meaning of bringing me to the street market?” he challenged. Because the street market is my favorite, and it’s all you deserve. Since we were kids, Garrett had always been a copycat, wearing the same brands and doing the same things. When I tried to bribe the class treasurer to do my homework, he instantly ratted me out to my mom and blamed it on a ‘secret dating pact.’ I’d hold that against him forever! I rolled my eyes and gave a small, haughty snort. “Take it or leave it. Goodbye if you leave it.” Garrett strode ahead, his long legs covering the ground easily. “Who said I wouldn’t eat? I love street tacos. As long as you’re not treating certain people, I’ll eat anything… hurry up, short stuff.” Your entire family is short stuff. I narrowed my eyes, fuming, and lifted my foot to kick his calf. He dodged quickly, as if he had eyes in the back of his head. “What is it now, my Princess?” He turned, arching an eyebrow, his smile wide and provocative. I stared him down with a silent, intense menace. Once we got to the market, I bought him only a small bag of Deep-Fried Oreos. Then I happily bought myself a huge haul: street tacos, cheese fries, a corn dog, a funnel cake, a taro swirl pastry, a chocolate-matcha mochi… so much food I could barely hold it all. Garrett looked at his lone bag of Deep-Fried Oreos. Then he looked at the mountain of food in my hands. He laughed, exasperated. “Fine. Very fine.” “Thank you, Princess Hart. I love Deep-Fried Oreos. But you can’t possibly carry all that. Let me help you…” He reached out to grab some of the bags. “Absolutely not!” I glared at him and quickly side-stepped his attempt to snatch my food. Suddenly, someone blocked my path. Finny Cole stood in front of me, calling out towards the distance. “Alex, slow down! Stella’s been following us for a while now. Why don’t we all go together?” I froze. I pursed my lips. Awful luck. Why did I run into them here? The comments started rolling again. [The inescapable, gold-digging side character is here again to interrupt the hero and heroine’s alone time.] [She failed in the daytime, so she came at night to flash her AmEx Black Card at the hero’s booth? LOL, too bad the hero already has a nice sponsor now and doesn’t need to work for tuition, nor does he need this woman’s high-and-mighty ‘help’!] [Evil side character, get lost! Get lost! Get lost!] My intent was to turn and leave, but the comments stopped me. The comments reminded me: If he thinks I’m humiliating him, why am I still sponsoring him? 5 Finny glanced at the food in my hands, her smile gentle but her eyes devoid of warmth. “Stella.” “These are all Alex’s favorite things to eat. Did you come here to apologize for the scene this morning? That’s very thoughtful of you.” Garrett’s lips pressed into a thin, hard line. His knuckles were white as he gripped his bag of Oreos. Seeing my silence, he stepped in to run interference. “Apologize for what? Besides, this is all for me. It has nothing to do with anyone else.” Alex’s voice was hard and cold as he addressed me. “Stella Hart, how many times do I have to tell you? Can you just stay away from me?” He threw a contemptuous glance at Garrett, who was standing beside me. “Did you try a different trick today to get my attention? Girls need to value themselves more… When you act like this, I only feel disgusted.”

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In 2016, I took on a bizarre case for a second-instance defense. My client was a teenage killer. He had assaulted three people, murdered four, and burned the bodies before fleeing. He had already escaped the police radar. But suddenly, he turned himself in, pled guilty in court, and calmly accepted the death sentence. I was at my wits’ end, assuming the case was lost. Then he said, “I want to overturn the verdict.” 1 In the spring of 2016, I took on a sensational case. The client was a mother with a weathered face, dressed plainly, yet the retainer she offered was substantial. The defendant was her son, Liam Cole. She had no other demands; she just wanted him alive. I reviewed the case files, and the outlook was grim. It was a murder and arson case that took place in a suburban villa. There were four victims: a local well-known entrepreneur named Marcus Reed, his wife, his son, and a drifter named Travis Black. The autopsy revealed that three of them showed signs of sexual assault, with Marcus being the only exception. The police investigation had been difficult; the fire destroyed all traces, and being in the suburbs, there was little surveillance footage. But two months later, Liam turned himself in, and the case was closed just like that. The first trial ended with a death sentence. The legal aid lawyer could do nothing. In court, Liam smiled as he admitted to all charges. In his final statement, he said he killed for pleasure and only regretted not torturing the victims longer that night. A pure antisocial personality. It attracted media attention, and public opinion spiraled. While awaiting the death penalty review, Liam’s mother finally scraped together enough money to find our law firm, hoping for a turnaround. In the detention center, I met Liam, and he surprised me. A delicate-looking boy, polite in speech, nineteen years old but looking no more than fifteen or sixteen. He didn’t look like a murderous demon who despised the court at all. His first sentence after sitting down stunned me: “Miss Lawyer, I want to overturn the verdict.” His tone was as casual as if he were saying he wanted breakfast. “Overturn the verdict? Are you denying your previous crimes?” “No. Murder, arson, I admit to all of it. But I want to overturn the verdict.” I started to feel something was off. “How do you plan to do that?” Liam blinked. “I’m going to tell you a story. You have to write down every single word.” Later, I would learn just how crucial that request was. 2 I said in court that I killed for fun, but actually, I didn’t. I did it to restore my sexual function. Miss Lawyer, as a woman, you might not understand my state of mind. Let me start from the beginning. In the beginning, it was all about money. I was born in a remote village, a poor place. My father built our house years ago. It leaked rain and wind, and we had no money to fix it. We had a few acres of land where we grew feed corn for pigs. It tasted terrible, but the yield was high. It could feed pigs and fill human stomachs. We didn’t have a TV, only a radio my father picked up while working in the city. It was my only channel to understand the world. My favorite station broadcasted legal cases. I liked lawyers very much. Moving their lips, they could send bad guys to prison and make big money. It was amazing. I dreamed of becoming a lawyer. Reality, of course, isn’t as easy as dreaming. When I got older, like most people in the village, I went to the city to work. But manual labor was hard, and I couldn’t handle hardship. By chance, I met a middle-aged man in an urban village. He took me to a rental room and gave me a hundred dollars. It was painful, but that was a whole hundred dollars. I didn’t know how much rice that could buy. It only took ten minutes to earn that money. I was desperate for money. Like that, I drifted through the alleys on the edge of the city. Later, a regular customer took me in directly, bringing me to his home to keep me. Nominally, I was his adopted son; at night, what had to happen, happened. But I didn’t care. He could provide me with a stable income and a place to live, and that was enough. Years later, one night, he died of cardiac arrest after taking medicine. I even attended his funeral. I hated him, but he did help me. That’s a story for later. Let’s talk about back then. Not long after being taken in, my life stabilized a bit. Young and ignorant, I met a girl. She was a city girl, clean, with skin white as porcelain. We moved fast. Not many days later, we found a hotel. Although I did dirty work, I didn’t like men. I was still a blank sheet of paper when it came to matters between men and women. So it wasn’t until that night that I discovered I couldn’t perform as a man. I fled in panic. After that, I tried many methods, but none succeeded. I went to the hospital for a checkup. The doctor said there was no physical problem, and I didn’t have any diseases. But for some reason, it just didn’t work. At this time, Travis told me he had a way. He read in a book that most male dysfunctions are psychological, not physiological. In other words, my body was fine; my brain was the problem. Intense sensory stimulation could help the brain overcome this barrier. That’s why some people seek pleasure on the edge of suffocation. I was afraid of death and didn’t dare try suffocation. Travis said he had a way, leave it to him. Under his lead, we entered the Reed family’s suburban villa. There, under intense stimulation, I really recovered my ability. 3 “Travis? One of the deceased, the drifter? You knew him?” “Friends from the streets. We’re all lowlives; knowing each other is normal, isn’t it?” I thought for a moment. “Are you saying Travis was your accomplice? You broke into the Reed villa together, and he was the mastermind?” “Yes.” I sighed. “This won’t work. You say you were accomplices, so why did he die? To shift the blame to Travis, you need evidence, but I guess you don’t have any, otherwise you would have presented it at the first trial. Also, the case file mentions Travis had a terrible reputation and was selfish. Why would he commit a crime just to help you?” Liam thought for a moment and nodded. “So that’s how it is… But I didn’t intend to shift the blame to him. Miss Lawyer, please hear me out.” 4 Travis didn’t want to help me; he wanted me to help him. Marcus Reed’s son, Julian Reed, was from the same hometown as Travis. They grew up together, and Travis used to be the big brother. As adults, one went uphill, the other downhill. The Reed family got rich doing business and lived in a villa. Julian started working in the family company before graduating college. His life was smooth sailing. Travis’s parents died early. He spent his family fortune on drinking, gambling, and whoring, owing a lot of debt. Travis often borrowed money from Julian. Remembering their old friendship, Julian always gave it and never asked for it back. But over time, he stopped giving, saying he’d help in emergencies but not poverty. Travis held a grudge because of this. On the night of the crime, Travis went to the Reed house again and came back to find me for a drink. Muttering about how they became rich and looked down on him. After staring at me for a long time, he suddenly mentioned the plan to treat me with intense stimulation and asked me to go to the Reed house with him. I thought I might as well try, so I went along. When we snuck into the villa, it was late at night, and the three members of the Reed family were asleep. The first to suffer was Julian’s mother. Travis told me he would go first, and I would be next, so I could watch and learn. Julian and his father were tied up, gagged, thrown aside, watching along with me. Watching Travis’s atrocities, I had no reaction. Instead, when I glimpsed Julian’s face out of the corner of my eye, I suddenly reacted. At the time, I didn’t understand why, but I was delighted. I don’t want to describe what happened next in detail. When it all ended, Julian’s mother wasn’t moving anymore. She seemed to have had a chronic illness. Under such misfortune happening to herself and her son, she got too agitated and died. Since a life was lost, Travis and I decided to go all the way. I killed Julian, and Travis killed Marcus. One life each, ensuring we had leverage over each other. Travis usually acted tough, but killing for the first time, after pulling out the knife, he was so scared he couldn’t stand and collapsed on the ground. It’s embarrassing to say. Seeing him like that, I reacted again. Travis probably didn’t expect to become my prey. Caught off guard, he was easily tied up by me. In the last moments of his life, he kept cursing me. But I was too excited. The pleasure outweighed everything. After it was all over, looking at the mess, I just set it on fire. That’s it. Miss Lawyer, are you okay?

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I grew up with three boys, the only girl between four powerful families. When my family fell on hard times, my parents tried to arrange a marriage with one of them. But Hunter, the bad boy, sneered at me and said, “No way. I like ’em sweet. She’s just one of the guys.” Caleb, the golden retriever type, shrugged apologetically: “I only see her as a sister.” And Ethan, the valedictorian, said coldly: “She’s reckless and stupid. Not wife material.” They rejected and belittled me without a second thought, leaving my parents to smile awkwardly through the humiliation. That was the moment I finally gave up. So, I turned to my parents and said, “Mom, Dad… I actually have a boyfriend already.” Chapter 1 Hunter sat with one arm draped over the back of his chair, sleeves rolled up, looking effortlessly cool and completely disinterested. He was laughing at something Caleb said. Ethan was scrolling on his phone, the blue light reflecting off his glasses, making him look even colder than usual. They barely listened to my parents’ awkward attempts to smooth over the conversation. Until I spoke. The private dining room went dead silent. Hunter and Caleb snapped their heads toward me. Ethan looked up from his phone, his gaze sharp and probing. I ignored them. I turned to my parents, who looked just as shocked. “You should have told me about the arranged marriage sooner. We could have avoided this misunderstanding.” “They’re right.” “We grew up together, but I only see them as brothers. There’s nothing romantic between us.” My parents hadn’t told me this was a matchmaking dinner because they were afraid I wouldn’t come. They had carefully chosen Caleb—he was two years younger than me, clingy, and we rarely fought. I didn’t know why the other two showed up. I was a little mad at my parents for lying to me, but mostly, I just felt a deep, aching sadness for them. Back when my family was still doing well, my mom once asked me if I liked anyone. I looked away and didn’t answer. Mom knew immediately. She smiled and teased, asking if it was one of the “Three Musketeers.” I turned bright red and told her to stop. She took that as a yes. But after that, I became careful, burying my feelings so deep that no one, not even them, could guess who I truly loved. Then my dad made some bad investments. Our assets shrank, and the Rivera family started losing its standing. The other three families began to distance themselves. My mom thought that if she didn’t push me, my stubborn pride would keep me silent forever. So she took a risk and set up this dinner. She didn’t expect the boys who grew up protecting me to reject me so brutally. I was used to their teasing. But seeing the strained smiles on my parents’ faces made my heart twist in pain. I couldn’t take it anymore. Before my parents could ask about this “boyfriend,” I stood up. I looked around the table, my voice cold. “It doesn’t look like you guys want to be here anyway.” “Since that’s the case, let’s call it a night.” Chapter 2 My parents went to get the car. I was about to follow when someone grabbed my arm. I turned around to see Hunter’s annoyed face. He was wearing a white button-down over a black t-shirt, the top buttons undone to reveal two new diamond dermal piercings on his collarbone. Trendy, wild, just like him. He looked down at me, a mocking smile on his lips. “Haven’t seen you in a while. Temper getting worse, huh?” “You took a long leave from school. Where’d you find this boyfriend?” “How old is he? Is he hot? Do I know him?” The questions were rapid-fire, aggressive. They sounded like concern. But I knew better. If I told him the truth, he’d just blink those pretty eyes and tell me I wasn’t good enough for whoever it was. It happened every time. I reacted instinctively. I yanked my arm away and shouted, “None of your business!” Hunter looked at his empty hand, stunned. His smile dropped. He frowned, looking even more irritated. Caleb poked his head out from behind Hunter. He grinned, showing his sharp canines. “Whoa, why the big reaction?” He used that playful, high-pitched tone he always used to seem harmless. It made people let their guard down. But his words were anything but harmless. “Did you actually find some random guy, Sis?” “Wow. Aren’t the three of us enough for you?” His smile deepened. He looked at me and said, deliberately, “What a slut.” Caleb loved to joke that they were my “harem.” Like I was some queen collecting men. But in our group of four, I was the one constantly trying to fit in. I used to lie to myself. I told myself that their teasing and pranks were just “guy things.” They still hung out with me. They still beat up anyone who bullied me. We grew up together. I had to be special to them, right? Until “The Incident” happened. That was when I realized I was just a toy to them. A clown for their amusement when they got bored. I met Caleb’s gaze. He was still smiling, waiting for me to get hurt, waiting for a reaction to his insult. I stared at him blankly for a few seconds. Then I turned and walked away. A few steps later, a colder voice called out. “When are you coming back to school?” It was Ethan. I paused but didn’t turn around. It was a normal question, so I gave a normal answer. “In a couple of days.” I heard Caleb make a loud, annoyed tsk sound. He grumbled loudly, making sure I heard. “Of course. Only the ex gets a response.” “But seriously—” “You guys broke up ages ago, Sis. Why are you still treating him differently?” It was ironic. Of the three, Ethan was the most vocal about hating the idea of marrying me. He called me stupid and reckless. But he was the only one I had actually dated. And Ethan was the one who confessed to me. Chapter 3 Unlike the generational wealth of the Sullivan (Hunter), Mitchell (Caleb), and Hayes (Ethan) families, the Riveras were new money. My dad got lucky with a tech boom early on and rode the wave into their social circle. But it was superficial. Behind our backs, people called us tacky hillbillies. They said we didn’t belong and would eventually go back to where we came from. When I was little, I wanted to fight the kids who said that. But my dad stopped me. He told me that if we wanted to stay, I had to make friends with “the right people.” So I swallowed my pride. I became the tomboy, the loud, happy-go-lucky girl who tagged along with the rich kids. I realized Hunter, Caleb, and Ethan were the kings of the playground, so I stuck to them like glue. From elementary school to college. From being the annoying hanger-on to being accepted as “one of the boys.” Even though my dad’s initial advice was calculating, over the years, I truly came to love them as my best friends. Then my dad’s investments tanked. The stock market crashed. And suddenly, the boys started pulling away. In that silence, I realized that we were never equals. This time, I didn’t beg for their attention. I went to class alone. I learned to live without them. Then, I got kidnapped. When a group of guys surrounded me, demanding money, I was confused. I recognized some of them—guys I thought were my friends. I thought it was a prank. I laughed and said, “If you guys are broke, just ask. I can lend you cash.” But then they named a price I couldn’t possibly pay. And I realized they weren’t joking. They took everything valuable I had. They locked me in a warehouse for two days with no water. I heard them arguing nervously about calling my parents versus just selling me to traffickers. I felt a mix of absurdity and terror. It was like watching toddlers play with a loaded gun. Funny because they were amateurs. Terrifying because the gun was real. The humor vanished when they stripped me naked and took photos to “blackmail” my family. I curled into a ball, screaming curses at them, threatening them. But they could see my fear. One of them, a guy named Jordan who used to sit next to me in history class, crouched down. He sighed, smiling as he reached out to touch me. “Bella, forgive me.” “I actually really like you. I didn’t want to do this…” He screamed before he could finish. I bit his finger. Hard. I clamped down with every ounce of strength I had left, tasting copper, trying to bite the bone in half. The group panicked, rushing forward to pull me off. Just then— The warehouse door creaked open. A beam of sunlight cut through the darkness, blinding me. A tall figure stood in the light. It was Ethan. Chapter 4 After the rescue, I didn’t leave the house for weeks. The betrayal, the kidnapping, the violation of those photos… it shattered me. My mind was hanging by a thread. During that dark time, Ethan—the cold, distant genius—stayed by my side. I had never seen him so gentle. It was like he could sense my fragility. He talked to me for hours, distracting me from the memories. I stayed in his private apartment. He handled my leave of absence from school. He kept the news from my parents so they wouldn’t worry. He used his connections to “handle” Jordan and his crew. He even managed to keep Hunter and Caleb away, ensuring no one disturbed my recovery. He protected me completely. His maturity and reliability made me open up. I became dependent on him. Finally, I couldn’t help it. I asked him, “Why… why are you being so good to me?” I remember that moment perfectly. Ethan was wearing comfortable loungewear, sitting next to me on the carpet. He rolled up his sleeves, revealing pale but strong arms. He spun a pen through his long fingers. He wasn’t wearing his glasses. His dark hair fell over his forehead, making him look softer, lazier. He looked at me with a tenderness that made my heart ache. He answered my question with a question. Smiling slightly, he asked, “Do you want to be my girlfriend?” It felt like Cupid’s arrow hitting a bullseye. I fell dizzyingly into his rare, intoxicating warmth. I had no reason to say no. With his care, I slowly healed. I became cheerful again. Looking back now, it all feels like a dream. Ethan seemed cold, but he was possessive. While we were dating, he forced Hunter to stop putting his arm around me. He made Caleb watch his mouth. If I was even slightly uncomfortable, he fixed it. I was so happy I thought I was in love with him. I even daydreamed about what kind of wedding dress I’d wear to marry him. But he was faking it. It was all an act. Everything he gave me—was a lie. I will never forget that day. It was the first time I cooked a full meal. My hands were covered in cuts from the knife, and the kitchen was a disaster zone. But I made eighteen dishes. Because Ethan said he wanted a home-cooked meal for his birthday. The doorbell rang. I opened the door, expecting praise. Expecting a hug. Instead, I got laughter. Cruel, hysterical laughter. Caleb was holding his stomach, laughing so hard he couldn’t stand straight. Hunter was whistling, filming me with his phone—filming me in a stupid apron, holding a spatula, looking confused and pathetic. And Ethan. He leaned against the doorframe, a faint smile on his lips. He looked like a player who had just won the game and was enjoying the victory screen. “I didn’t know our wild Bella had such a domestic side. Hahaha…” “Good thing the bet was only for a month. If you kept this up, Ethan, she’d probably offer to have your babies! Hahaha.” “Ha. That was interesting. My turn next?” When Hunter said that, he paused. He looked at me. Then he shrugged and turned away, as if I didn’t matter. Smirking, he said, “Oops, she heard. Guess we need a new game for next time.”

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“Eve, this is far enough. I didn’t get you a ticket, you should head back.” My husband, Nolan Bell, spoke the words at the airport check-in counter, his voice light and airy, as if commenting on the weather. The excitement I’d been holding onto all morning froze on my face. I looked up, stunned. “What do you mean?” “The whole family is going to Maui for seven days. We can’t leave the house completely empty, so I just didn’t buy you a ticket.” He offered a small, easy smile. “Besides, this is a vacation for those of us who worked hard all year to rest. You’re already home all day. You rest every day, so what’s the big deal?” The entire family—my in-laws, my brother-in-law Jared, and our son, Mike—all stood by, silently checking their phones, avoiding my gaze. I stared at Nolan, who looked utterly convinced of his own logic. Seven years. For him, I gave up my career and became a full-time homemaker for seven years. Three hundred and sixty-five days a year, with no sick days, no paid time off. And now I knew: he had never once valued my effort. “Fine,” I nodded slowly. “I’ll go home and watch the house.” Nolan seemed momentarily startled, as if he expected a larger fight. Before they headed through the gate, I looked at the six of them, letting the silence stretch. “Are you absolutely sure this is the arrangement you want?” 1 I picked up the suitcase I had packed with so much hope last night and turned to leave. The gate agent was calling for boarding, and every gentle announcement of, “Have a pleasant trip,” felt like a dull knife twisting in my chest. Nolan rushed after me, pulling me aside into a quiet corner. “Babe, listen to me. This trip for the whole family has stretched the budget already. I had to cut out some unnecessary expenses.” I stopped walking. “Unnecessary?” Nolan shrugged, reasonable and self-righteous. “Yes. We agreed this was a trip to Maui for everyone who worked hard this year. You don’t have an office job, you’re home all the time. Haven’t you rested enough?” I stared at him, disbelief curdling into cold anger. “What do you think rest is?” “Sleeping until noon is rest. Waking up at five a.m. to make breakfast for six people is not rest!” “Lying on the sofa scrolling through your phone is rest. Scrubbing the sink, mopping the floors, driving Mike to school, and doing your brother’s laundry—that is not rest!” My voice was low but shaking. “Nolan, we’ve been married for seven years. Three hundred and sixty-five days a year. Tell me one day that I’ve truly rested!” I pulled my arm out of his grasp. “Go. All of you. Have fun. Don’t worry about me.” Nolan opened his mouth, prepared to argue further. But then his mother’s voice chirped from the gate: “Nolan, hurry up! What are you standing there for? It’s boarding time!” Jared waved his passport. “Forget about her, bro.” He tossed his head toward me. “You know how dramatic she gets. Grab her a cheap souvenir when we get back.” Six-year-old Mike ran over and tugged on Nolan’s shirt. “Dad, let’s go! We don’t need Mom! I want to see the ocean!” My knuckles were white as I gripped the handle of my suitcase. I looked at Nolan one last time, managing a smile. “Didn’t you hear them? Go on.” Nolan’s eyes flickered, but he stopped trying to talk. “Take good care of the house. I’ll bring you a trinket.” He released my arm, turned his back, and walked swiftly toward the people he considered to have “worked hard all year.” I stood there, watching the six of them disappear into the tunnel. I gave a small, self-mocking laugh. I knew right then I couldn’t wake up a man who was only pretending to be asleep. But it didn’t matter. By the time he returned, my divorce papers would be ready. 2 As the taxi sped away from the airport, I pulled out my phone and found the family group chat was buzzing. Nolan’s mother—Mrs. Bell—had posted a selfie, complete with a filter that made her look twenty years younger. [Look, everyone! See how wonderful my son, Nolan, is? He worked so hard to take the whole family on a spectacular trip to Maui for the holidays!] [And look at this plane! First class seats for the parents, too! So thoughtful!] The comments from aunts and uncles came pouring in instantly. [Oh, Clara, you’re so lucky! Such a good son and daughter-in-law!] [Is that Jared? Wow, he’s so tall now. Didn’t he just graduate?] Jared, wearing the expensive noise-canceling headphones I’d gifted him last birthday, flashed a peace sign at the camera. [Aunt Tracy, my brother gave me three thousand dollars in spending money for this trip. I’ll bring you back something nice!] Three thousand dollars? I checked the booking app on my own phone. A round-trip economy ticket from our city to Maui was currently on sale for just $150. $150. That’s what he considered an “unnecessary expense” and a “too large” cost to carry. The memory of Nolan’s words at the airport—too expensive, cut back, already resting—mixed with the cold, hard reality of the ticket price. A sense of profound, unprecedented sorrow swept over me, and I couldn’t help but laugh out loud. I had been married to Nolan for seven years. He told me his parents needed care, and that he was too busy building his career to handle things at home. I gave up my burgeoning career. For seven years, I ensured this six-person home always had a hot breakfast at 5 a.m. Laundry thrown on the floor was magically folded in the dresser drawers the next morning. The trash was never full; the sheets were changed every Monday. My in-laws’ doctor’s appointments, Mike’s sick days, Jared’s long breaks from college—Nolan never had to lift a finger. He only needed to wake up, exchange pleasantries with his parents and son, go to work, and the day was done. I looked at the thick layer of calluses covering my palms from years of scrubbing and labor. My heart felt hollow. I couldn’t stop myself. I screenshotted the ticket price and posted it to the family group chat. [To everyone thinking of getting married or becoming a homemaker: Don’t. Your worth might not even amount to one hundred and fifty dollars.] The vibrant chat went silent. I could practically hear the collective gasp. After a long pause, my Aunt Tracy tentatively tagged Nolan. [Nolan, what is going on? Your entire family is traveling without Eve?] 3 Mrs. Bell’s voice messages quickly flooded the group. “Oh, the cruelty! It’s not that we didn’t want to take Eve. Nolan thought we all needed a break after a year of hard work, but Eve was at home all day long and is plenty rested. That’s why we only bought tickets for those who needed a rest!” She started sobbing dramatically into the phone. “If I had known Eve was going to be this petty about a simple plane ticket, your father and I would have stayed home. I can’t believe my own daughter-in-law is breaking my heart in front of the whole family…” Jared snatched the phone from his mother. “Exactly! If she wanted to come so badly, she could have just bought a ticket! It’s not like my brother wouldn’t have given her the money.” “She’s just trying to stir up drama and humiliate my mom. What kind of person does that?” The money he was referring to—was it the $800 monthly allowance Nolan gave me for household expenses? The money he was referring to—was it the $800 monthly allowance Nolan gave me for household expenses? The entire family of six lived in the house Nolan and I bought together, a decent 1,200 square feet. That $800 had to cover the 300 mortgage payment, utilities, food for six adults and a growing child, plus even Jared’s occasional college expenses. It never stretched far enough, but Nolan always ignored me when I brought it up. Whenever I mentioned the budget was tight, he would look up from his phone and expertly deflect. “How can it be not enough? You don’t work, Eve. You don’t know how hard it is to earn money. You need to learn to be thrifty. Stop being so wasteful.” But my closet held the same dresses I’d worn four years ago. My pajamas were threadbare. I only bought the cheapest drugstore skincare. Even my most comfortable sneakers were a pair my own mother had bought too big for herself and passed down to me out of pity. And Nolan’s family? His father met his friends at the local bar every few days. His mother’s ballroom dance team needed a new, expensive costume every season. Jared never missed a concert or music festival. Nolan wouldn’t spend $150 on a ticket for me, but he had no problem handing Jared $3,000 for a vacation spending spree. I leaned back against the seat, doing the final tally in my head. Nolan, sensing the shift in the chat’s temperature, finally made an appearance. [Stop this now.] He was only there to shut down the topic. [Eveis clearly being unreasonable. Don’t make the whole family a spectacle. It’s the holidays.] Watching him twist reality like this made me want to scream, but I was too exhausted to even bother with a cold laugh. But the relatives, already convinced by Nolan’s smooth narrative, jumped in to “stand up for justice.” [I knew Nolan wouldn’t do something so heartless! He’s a good man. Eve, you need to look at yourself for a change.] [Seriously, I thought you were so dedicated when you were taking care of your mother-in-law in the hospital. I guess I was wrong about you.] My Aunt Sarah sent a condescending eye-roll emoji. Just last month, Mrs. Bell sprained her ankle while practicing a dance routine and had to spend two weeks in the hospital. Mr. Bell had his walking club, Nolan had work, and Jared was glued to his gaming console. So, I was the one who managed the house and cooked meals during the day, then went to the hospital to sit bedside every night. I’d rush home before dawn to make breakfast and start the cycle over. I was so exhausted I sometimes had to lean on the kitchen counter to keep from collapsing. When I begged Nolan, “Can we please hire a nurse or an aide?” He looked at me with genuine surprise, then scoffed. “Absolutely not. A hired nurse won’t care for her like you do, and why should we pay when you’re right here?” All those small, toxic moments I’d chosen to ignore came flooding back, threatening to drown me. Exhausted, hollowed out, I used the last of my resolve to book a consultation with the best divorce attorney in the city. I couldn’t live this life for one more day. 4 The following days were a blur of divorce preparation. I was busy securing a new place, tracking bank transfers, and looking into work. Nolan, meanwhile, was having a blast. Mrs. Bell shared updates from Maui eight times a day in the family chat. “The luxury suite Nolan booked for us is simply divine,” she boasted, her voice dripping with self-satisfaction. “And look at this private beach. We can go anytime we want.” Jared was shown lying on the sand playing games, still wearing the headphones I’d bought him. “Man, vacationing abroad is the best! Too bad some people just weren’t lucky enough to join us.” He was still holding a grudge about the group chat argument. “Oh, stop it, you brat,” Mrs. Bell scolded him, but the tone was more encouraging than harsh. Jared sat up and pulled Mike, who was playing in the sand, toward the camera. “Mike, tell us, do you want Mommy to be here?” Mike, holding his tiny plastic shovel, shouted into the phone, “No, not Mom! Dad said we don’t need Mom! She doesn’t work, she’d just waste money!” The video cut off abruptly. The family group chat was dead silent after that, a chilling quiet. Nolan’s cousin, Tracy, messaged me privately. “Eve, please don’t be upset. Mom and Dad saw that video. We all think Aunt and Uncle are completely out of line. We’ll talk to them when they get back.” A wave of warmth, quickly followed by a greater sense of hollowness, washed over me. See? Even outsiders knew this was unacceptable. But Nolan pretended not to notice. That evening, I was reviewing the first draft of the divorce agreement the lawyer had sent. Nolan’s text popped up. [Babe, honestly, Maui is overrated. Nothing special.] [I bought you a gift. We get back the day after tomorrow. Come pick us up at the airport, okay?] The day after tomorrow. I opened the chat with my attorney. [Can the divorce agreement be finalized by tomorrow night?] A thumbs-up emoji came back instantly. I smiled as I typed my reply to Nolan. [Can do.] Soon. Two more days until my divorce. 5 The next twenty-four hours were in fast-forward. Mrs. Bell continued posting pictures of their perfectly happy, smiling family in Maui. But the family chat grew increasingly quiet. Even when Mrs. Bell tagged a relative, they pretended not to see it. Meanwhile, I packed up the last seven years of my life. The wedding album went into the dumpster. The family portrait? Shredded. The small pieces of furniture I had painstakingly bought and collected over the years were either sold or donated. Nothing would be left for the Bells. Finally, the day of their return arrived. Nolan had texted me the day before, insisting I be there on time. They had bought so much, he said, and his parents were too old to carry it all. He needed me there to help with their luggage. Even now, he saw me as nothing more than the family’s chauffeur and porter. I was too tired to argue. I just texted Okay and promptly turned off my phone to sleep. The plane landed the next day. Nolan’s family emerged, laden with shopping bags. “Bro, where is she? Is she seriously running late?” Jared kicked his suitcase in frustration. Mrs. Bell tutted. “Eveisn’t usually this disorganized. Maybe… she’s still mad at us?” “Nolan, you need to set her straight when we get home. A woman who holds a grudge like this? Doesn’t she know how to be a wife and daughter-in-law?” “Mommy bad!” Mike, clinging to his grandmother, clapped his hands. Nolan’s face darkened. He pulled out his phone and dialed me, his voice sharp with annoyance. “Where are you? I told you to be on time to pick us up!” “I’m right here.” Nolan’s head snapped up. His eyes frantically searched the crowd and finally landed on me standing a short distance away. Unlike my usual home-life uniform, I was wearing a simple, chic linen dress and a clean, elegant makeup look. I was polished, poised, and utterly detached. Nolan’s eyes lit up. He dragged his suitcase toward me. “Babe, you look great. Did you put on makeup just for me?” He pulled a small, clam-shaped box out of his pocket. Inside was a cheap, shell necklace, the kind sold by street vendors in tourist traps. It cost less than ten dollars. “This is from Maui, just for you, babe. It cost me a fortune, but you’re worth it. Put it on. Aren’t you happy?” I barely glanced at the necklace—a cheap trinket still dusty with sand. My gaze swept over Jared’s newest gaming console, Mr. Bell’s shiny new wristwatch, and Mrs. Bell’s new, prominent gold necklace. I smiled. “Perfect. I have a gift for you, too.” Surprise exploded in Nolan’s eyes. “What is it? That’s my girl! I leave you alone for a week, and you’re still this thoughtful. I definitely married the right woman…” I pulled a file from my bag and opened it, holding it out to him. “This gift is… our divorce agreement.”

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After the Great War, the military prostitutes were to be sold into brothels. To avoid this fate, they tried everything to seduce soldiers and get taken home. When the taciturn, dark-skinned Captain came looking for me, the entire camp was empty except for me and an old woman dying of a terminal illness. She laughed at me: “Little Rose, if someone is willing to take you, just go. Who are you waiting for? Don’t tell me it’s that high-and-mighty General Peyton, who’s about to marry the princess?” I said I needed to think about it. That night, Peyton pinned me to the bed. He gripped my chin, forcing me to look up at him. “I’m marrying the princess, and you’re jealous?” He scoffed. “You’ve got quite a temper.” “Nothing between us will change after I marry the princess. I bought a house outside the city. Wait for me there.” He never asked about the man who came for me during the day. He was so sure I wouldn’t leave with anyone else. But he didn’t know I had already agreed to go with the Captain named Zane. The day he married the princess was also the day I would marry Zane. 1 After the war ended, according to custom, we military prostitutes were to be sold into the lowest brothels. Those places were filled with all kinds of people: old, young, perverted, disgusting. It wasn’t a place for humans. So, starting three days ago, the younger women began trying every trick to seduce the soldiers. These men were the survivors of the war. Having won, they would be rewarded based on their merit. Even if they already had wives at home, becoming a kept mistress wasn’t a bad end. Zane appeared when a scoundrel was trying to take me back as a concubine. After I refused, he got angry and tackled me onto the bed in the tent. “Bitch! You’re the daughter of a criminal minister, a military prostitute, and you still think you’re a lady? Usually, the young general gets first dibs, but now it’s my turn to taste…” Before he could finish, he was grabbed by the collar and thrown to the ground. I scrambled up in a panic and saw Zane. He carried the scoundrel out like he was carrying a chick. At first, there was shouting outside, but it soon died down. After dealing with the man, Zane came back in and stood at the tent entrance like a mountain, blocking all the light. His wheat-colored skin was solid and vibrant, sweat dripping down his neck into his collarbone. He was breathing slightly hard, looking at me, but didn’t say a word. I don’t know how long passed. Finally, he said just one phrase: “I can.” It was a bit baffling, but I understood what he meant. These days, besides that scoundrel, five or six other men had come to me, saying they could take me home. Some even promised me the position of principal wife. After all, I was once the cherished daughter of the Minister of Revenue. I could play the zither, play chess, do calligraphy, and paint. My beauty alone was once famous throughout the capital. I refused them all. But this time, I stared into Zane’s eyes. He stiffly looked away. His face was taut, as if someone owed him money. But I saw that the tips of his ears were bright red. “I need to think about it.” I said. After Zane left, a weak voice came from the corner. “He might be the last one.” That was the only other woman left here besides me, an old prostitute suffering from a serious illness and running out of time. She laughed at me: “Little Rose, if he’s willing to take you, just go with him. Who are you waiting for? Don’t tell me it’s that high-and-mighty General Peyton, who’s about to marry the princess?” She knew I had some kind of relationship with Peyton. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be a military prostitute who didn’t have to serve others. But every two days, I would go out at night holding my zither. The only person who could have this privilege was the now-distinguished and glorious Peyton. She thought Peyton was just treating me like a plaything, and I shouldn’t pine for someone out of my league. But she didn’t know that it wasn’t me who refused to let go. 2 The night Zane came to find me, Peyton called me over. I had just entered his tent with my zither when I was pushed onto the table from behind. Peyton reached into my clothes with one hand and grabbed my neck with the other, forcing me to look up. His kiss was like a violent storm, without tenderness. I don’t know what was wrong with him today; he was unusually rough, from the table to the bed, from night until dawn. I was exhausted, lying weakly on the edge of the bed. Peyton hugged me from behind and asked: “I’m marrying the princess, and you’re jealous?” He paused for a moment and then said: “What right do you have to be jealous of the princess? Rose, you’re no longer the Capital’s Peony.” This title hadn’t been heard for a long time, and it inexplicably stirred up some memories. Back then, I was quite famous in the capital. Many sons of officials admired me, and Peyton was one of them. Among those playboys, his way of pursuing me was particularly unconventional. He would climb over my family’s wall, risking a beating from my father, to place a dew-covered sprig of plum blossoms on my windowsill. On the Lantern Festival, he bribed the girls in the brothel in advance. When my sisters and I passed by, those girls leaned on the railing upstairs, waving handkerchiefs of various colors that together formed the word “Rose.” My parents and brother cursed him for being rude. But they didn’t know that night I looked up at him, the stars were shining, and he leaned among the girls, showing a mouthful of white teeth, smiling freely and casually. My heart missed a beat. At that time, the war between Chen and Dayan had just begun, and many sons of noble families were sent to the battlefield to gain experience. Peyton was among them. They hurried to the battlefield. I didn’t have time, nor the position, to see him off. But that morning, I still saw a fresh sprig of red plum blossoms on the windowsill. There was a note underneath, in handwriting as bold and unrestrained as he was. ——”Wait for me to achieve success and fame, then I will come back to marry you.” I didn’t wait for his return. My father was charged with a serious crime because he stood on the wrong side, and our home was raided. My father and brother died, and my mother committed suicide. I was the only one left, thrown into the military camp as a prostitute. The first night, dozens of men broke in, cornering me like hungry wolves. “This is the Capital’s Peony, the unattainable Rose.” “I heard many sons in the capital wanted to marry her. She really is beautiful!” “Today, let’s brothers break her in…” A despair I had never felt before enveloped me. I was trembling all over and couldn’t move, thinking I should just let it happen. Death seemed like a good option. Suddenly, someone in silver armor broke in, a bloody spear blocking in front of me, shielding me from those disgusting gazes. “You dare to touch my person?” “You’re courting death!” Three years later, seeing Peyton again, he was darker and thinner, and a scar on the side of his face made him look a bit fierce. But facing me, he hugged me tightly, as if he had found a lost treasure: “Thank goodness, you’re alright.” Because of lingering fear, his hands were still trembling slightly. Afraid that I would get sick in this environment, Peyton asked me to move to his tent and took me to the nearby stream and grassland to relax whenever he had time. He knew I loved the zither. He found one somewhere in this remote place and placed it on my bed like a treasure. I played a song for him, and his smile was as refreshing as a spring breeze. “Hearing Rose play a song, death is worth it.” At that time, I really thought I could entrust my life to him. Peyton was very capable. In just one year, he achieved great military exploits and was promoted rapidly. With his protection, no one dared to have ideas about me. He socialized more and more late with those generals. Occasionally, they would call some young and beautiful military prostitutes to drink and feast in the main tent. I could hear those unbearable sounds. At first, I deceived myself thinking Peyton was definitely not one of them. Until he suddenly roughly turned me over on the bed, lying on the edge of the bed in a humiliating posture. I realized what he was going to do and instinctively pushed him away. He frowned: “This isn’t okay either? They… forget it, go to sleep.” He went to take a shower in frustration and slept holding me as usual. But my mind was full of the sentence he didn’t finish. They are all okay. They are all military prostitutes, why aren’t you? My heart sank to the bottom. The battles were frequent, Peyton was running around every day, and he came to see me less and less. A bold soldier mistakenly thought I had been abandoned, sneaked into my tent in the middle of the night, covered my mouth and nose tightly, and pressed his foul-smelling mouth against me. I struggled in panic and was slapped in the face by him. In an instant, my ears were buzzing, and my mind went blank. Fortunately, Peyton returned in time. He kicked the man away and held me in his arms. I thought he had dealt with that scoundrel, but a few days later, I saw that man again. He stood in front of the roasted sheep unscathed, laughing with others: “How could General Peyton really turn against me for a whore? He even treated me to a drink, saying women are like clothes, and the friendship with brothers is life-and-death.” “That chick is really tender. It’s a pity I didn’t get her. When I have a chance, I must screw her.” Meeting my eyes, he licked the corner of his mouth, disgusting to the extreme. The nightmarish scene appeared before my eyes again. I was terrified and asked Peyton about it. At that time, he was reading a book at the desk. Hearing this, his beautiful brows frowned slightly. He pulled me to sit on his lap and stroked the back of my neck with his hand. “Rose, personally, his uncle is my deputy general and saved my life. I can’t punish him.” “Officially… what reason should I use to deal with him? Bullying a military prostitute?” I stared at him blankly. His hand had already reached under my skirt, flippant and casual. Confused by passion, he comforted me saying: “You are mine. I will definitely not let others bully you. Wear more clothes when you go out of the tent in the future…” I felt like I knew the man in front of me for the first time. From then on, I knew men were unreliable. To escape this hell, I had to rely on myself. 3 Since the news of disbanding the military prostitutes came out, Peyton knew that many people secretly came to me to take me away. But he never asked, nor did he step forward to declare his sovereignty. As if he was sure I wouldn’t leave with anyone. He bit my ear gently, and I turned my head to avoid it. He sneered: “You’ve got quite a temper.” “After marrying the princess, nothing between us will change. I bought a house outside the city. That will be our home in the future.” He seemed to have forgotten the red plum blossoms placed on my windowsill that year. Also forgotten that two years ago, when he regained what was lost and held me like a treasure in his palm, he once said: “Rose, when the war is over, I will marry you and take you home.” What he genuinely wanted to marry was the stunningly talented legitimate daughter of the Qi family. And in his eyes, I had been reduced to a military prostitute. Everyone can give up on me. But I can’t give up on myself. I smiled and leaned obediently in his arms without speaking. Peyton didn’t know that before I came here to see him, I sent a message to the Captain named Zane. I agreed. On the day Peyton married the princess, I would go back to River City to marry Zane. This was the only way for me to escape this hell. This great victory, allowing the soldiers to take their preferred military prostitutes away was a grace given to them. It happened that Zane wanted to take me away, and it happened that he wasn’t a bad person. Someone from the imperial court came to announce the decree, and the generals were about to return to the capital first to receive awards. That night, Peyton hosted a banquet to entertain those officials. In the main tent, glasses were clinking. Those people felt bored, and someone mentioned: “I heard Rose is here with you?” Their eyes crossed, some with restless minds: “I’ve long heard of the reputation of the Capital’s Peony. Not only is she proficient in zither, chess, calligraphy, and painting, but her dancing skills are also superb. Why not call her up to dance for everyone to liven things up.” Just dancing was already them caring about face. Peyton had no reason to refuse. When he sent someone to bring the dancing clothes, I was applying medicine to my body. That dancing dress was almost transparent. After putting it on, it could barely cover the body, let alone cover these bruises made by Peyton. I held the clothes and remained silent. The person waiting outside the tent urged impatiently: “What’s wrong? Can’t you wear it? Do you want brother to help you?” “I can’t dance.” He was stunned and walked straight in. “General Peyton ordered you to perform a dance. You dare not go?” “Yes.” I pulled out the short knife that Peyton had given me for self-defense from under the pillow and stabbed it into my thigh. In an instant, blood spurted out. I said coldly: “I said, I can’t dance.” That person was scared by me and rushed out to report. When Peyton came back after appeasing those people, he was cold all over. He looked at my unbandaged wound, was silent for half a moment and asked: “Things are different now, Rose.” “It’s just asking you to dance. With your status, what position do you have to refuse?” I looked up at him and asked indifferently: “In your eyes, what is my status?” He glanced at the outside of the tent out of the corner of his eye and snorted coldly: “It seems that I have been too lenient with you on regular days. We will return to the capital tomorrow. Except for those military prostitutes who have written marriage contracts with soldiers, others will be sent to the labor camp according to the law. You also go there to temper your temperament. I’ll pick you up after I report on my work in the capital.” I suddenly looked up. He wants to send me to the labor camp? He looked at me heavily for a while and turned to leave. I knew Zane had already drawn up the marriage contract. After Peyton left tomorrow, Zane would also take me back to River City. He marries his princess. I marry my man. Perhaps in this life, this is the last time we meet. “General Peyton.” I rarely called him that. Peyton was stunned and stopped. I bowed to him and thanked him for protecting me these two years. “Have a safe journey. Rose won’t send you off.”

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The deadline for my master’s thesis was looming, and I was deep into the job search. I asked my girlfriend, Sienna, who was a tenured professor at The Met, to write me a letter of recommendation. She looked at me with a cold stare, her lips forming a thin, disapproving line. “You should rely on your own merits, Rowan. People who always look for shortcuts don’t go far. You need to be fair.” I flushed with shame. I spent the next weeks obsessively preparing for interviews, fueled by late nights and sheer anxiety. I tried to forget her words. But after my final interview, the floor dropped out from under me. I was walking past the official university bulletin board when I saw the list of new research fellows. My name wasn’t there, but another one was: Dean Ellis. And right next to it, under the “Spousal/Partner Consideration” clause, was the name of his “spouse”—Sienna Wells. They were married. Legally. Suddenly, I wasn’t the one preparing for a new life; I was the other man. When I finally confronted her, Sienna didn’t even flinch. “Dean is my late advisor’s son. Helping him isn’t a ‘shortcut.’ As for the marriage certificate… it was temporary. A professional arrangement. Once he’s secure in the position, I’ll file the papers and we’ll finally get married.” I laughed. It was a sharp, ugly sound that caught in my throat. I turned away, and in that instant, I made a new decision. I would contact Natalie Grant, my senior, and join her research team abroad. The woman with no boundaries and the wreckage of this relationship. I was done with both. 1 I pushed my way through the crowd gathered around the university’s official posting board, straining to see the list. Finally, I got close enough. I scanned the list of new research fellows at The Metropolitan University again and again. The thin sheet of paper didn’t hold my name. I sighed, deflated. The competition for The Met’s prestigious positions was always brutal. I was turning to leave when a woman beside me gasped, pointing toward a smaller section. “I’m so jealous of people whose spouses have Ph.D.s. Imagine getting a job at The Met just because of who you married.” My girlfriend has a Ph.D., I thought bitterly, and I still didn’t get in. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a name on the special talent acquisition list: Sienna Wells. It was listed clearly: New Research Fellow – Dean Ellis. Spouse – Sienna Wells. My entire body swayed as if I’d been punched in the gut. Dean Ellis? He was Sienna’s junior colleague, her mentee. If they were legally married, then what the hell did that make me? I immediately pulled out my phone and dialed her number. “Sienna, hey, I—” “I told you not to call me during the day, Rowan. I’m probably in a lecture.” The line went dead, clipped and precise. Staring at the silent phone, I still couldn’t accept it. I walked quickly to Sienna’s office building. Before I could even raise my hand to knock, I heard a man’s voice inside. “Sienna, thank you. I don’t think I would’ve gotten into The Met without you.” “Dean, don’t be ridiculous. It’s no trouble. If The Met hadn’t suddenly changed its policy—only hiring Ph.D.s or Ph.D. spouses—we wouldn’t have had to do this.” “But, Sienna, what about Rowan? Won’t he be upset? Maybe I should explain it to him.” “Don’t worry about him. He didn’t get the job on his own merit. We don’t need him getting jealous and making a scene.” “Okay. Well, let me take you out to dinner tonight.” “I’d like that.” I pulled out my phone and quickly typed a message to Sienna: [I didn’t get the fellowship. I’m feeling really awful. Could you have dinner with me tonight?] I heard the distinct ding of her phone inside the office, but no reply came. I could picture it perfectly: her picking up the phone, seeing my message, and putting it back down with a frown. The door opened. I scrambled to hide, only managing to catch the sight of Sienna and Dean walking away, laughing together, their backs to me. I returned to my shared apartment and sat on the sofa in the dark until deep into the night. Sienna finally came home hours later. “Sienna, I texted you. Didn’t you see it?” Her body stiffened, and a look of annoyance crossed her face. “What message? I’m busy all day, Rowan. I don’t have time to constantly check in with you.” “Did you know I was rejected for the research fellowship?” She shrugged dismissively. “With your qualifications, I’m not surprised. The competition was intense.” My chest felt like it was being squeezed by an invisible hand. “My qualifications? I was top of the program! I won countless awards in my field!” I couldn’t hold back the anger any longer. “Dean Ellis has never won a thing, but he used your name to get the job. You wouldn’t even write me a recommendation letter, and you call that not taking a shortcut?” “You know?” Sienna showed no shame, only irritation that I had discovered her secret. “Rowan, it’s just one fellowship. Don’t be so aggressive. Dean was rejected for every other job he applied for. He’s my advisor’s son—my advisor is gone. I couldn’t just leave him high and dry.” “And my career doesn’t matter? He’s your husband. What does that make me? The mistress?” I choked out the last word. Sienna’s tone softened slightly, a practiced shift. “Rowan, it’s a temporary measure. A contingency. As soon as he’s stable, I’ll file the divorce papers. Then we’ll have the wedding we planned.” Hearing that, my resolve weakened, as it always did. “Fine. But no contact outside of what is strictly necessary for his job.” “Deal.” 2 After the rejection from The Met, I focused on finishing my final thesis while restarting the job hunt. The next day, after submitting my final work, I was reviewing job postings when my faculty advisor called. “Rowan, what happened? Your final thesis submission is identical to Dean Ellis’s, and he submitted his yesterday.” “That’s impossible, Professor. Please, wait while I check my files.” I opened my laptop and found that the creation history for my thesis had been completely manipulated, all the timestamps altered to show a submission date of yesterday. The sickening realization was immediate, but I fought against believing it. “Professor, please, you have to trust me. This work is entirely mine. Give me a few days; I will provide irrefutable proof to the department.” My fingers trembling, I called Sienna. No answer. Then I checked the anonymous campus Confessional App. A post accusing me of plagiarizing Dean Ellis’s final project had just gone up, racking up hundreds of comments within thirty minutes. [No way. Isn’t Rowan Finn top of the program?] [Who knows how he got those grades before?] [Dean seems to have the original creation files. That proves Rowan stole it.] I quickly hacked into the app’s backend, intending to delete the post, but an immediate counter-attack blocked me. Someone was actively protecting the thread. I gave up on deleting it and started a new post, detailing my academic history, listing my awards, outlining the core idea of my thesis, and promising to deliver proof of my independent creation within days. It took mere minutes for my post to be deleted. I contacted the administrator, who cryptically told me it wasn’t him, but that I shouldn’t bother trying again. Someone powerful was clearly working to shut down any defense. I understood immediately: someone was covering for Dean, someone with technical skills equal to or better than mine. In the entire graduating class and faculty, only a handful of people—Sienna being the most likely—fit that description. I ran to the main Computer Science lab, only to find Dean introducing his project to a group of classmates. “This is the latest artificial intelligence prototype…” Watching my two months of relentless work being displayed on the screen, I roared, “Dean Ellis, that is my final thesis!” Dean turned to me, his expression wounded. “Rowan, what are you talking about? You can’t just claim it’s yours because I showed you a few early designs.” “If you say it’s yours, show them the proof!” Dean calmly pulled up the creation log, which, predictably, showed a timeline beginning two months ago—the exact time I had started the work. My classmates began to intervene. “Rowan, we know you’re smart, but Dean has the evidence. Just apologize to him.” “Yeah, plagiarism is a huge deal. The department is already investigating. Apologize quickly before Dean decides to press charges.” Their gazes felt like daggers, but I refused to back down. “Dean Ellis, I will prove that this work is mine.” I had installed specific tracking and backup software on my machine, a redundancy even Sienna didn’t know about. I’d done it out of paranoia, never expecting it would be necessary. Now, it was my only hope. I knew the truth would come out soon, but until it did, I was stuck wearing the scarlet letter of a plagiarist. 3 Inside Sienna’s office. “Sienna, this is all my fault. Rowan looks furious.” Sienna frowned slightly. “He still has time before graduation. He can just make a new one. Don’t worry about him. My advisor asked me to look after you. I can’t let you fail to graduate.” “Sienna, I know. My father told me the core of the AI you developed years ago was named ‘The S-D Core’—after our names.” Dean paused, his voice turning soft. “I was young and stupid to refuse you then. Who knew Rowan would come into your life later? I had to bury those feelings. But if, Sienna, you were willing to…” Sienna cut him off. “The past is the past, Dean. Let’s not bring it up again. We’ll file the divorce papers once you’re settled in your job.” The S-D Core. That explained why she had always refused my requests to study her AI algorithm. It was the legacy of her past love. A “White Moonlight” object. And I had just been the placeholder, a stepping stone for her to pave the way back to him. The realization was bitterly comical. I texted Natalie Grant, my senior: [I’ve made my decision. I’m joining Professor Alistair’s research team.] [Excellent. I’ll fly back to pick you up in a week.] When Sienna returned to the apartment, I was packing my suitcase. She grabbed my arm. “What are you doing? It’s just a final thesis, Rowan. Are you running away over this?” I yanked my arm away. “Just a thesis? Do you know the heart and soul I poured into that? And Dean plagiarized it. I will make him pay for this.” “It was me. It had nothing to do with him. Don’t blame Dean.” I threw the clothes in my hand onto the floor. “I knew it was you!” I flashed back to that night. After tapping out the final line of code, I’d saved the file and was about to send it when Sienna walked in. “Finished your thesis?” “Just now. I was about to send it to the department.” “Wait a minute. Let me check it over for you.” Sienna was a year ahead of me and a verified genius in our field. She sat down. Less than two minutes later, she told me there was a minor bug she had already fixed. “Don’t worry about it. Let it stabilize overnight. Send it in tomorrow.” She then rushed out. Returning to the present, I demanded, “You did this for Dean. Did you even consider my position? How am I supposed to face the university and my colleagues now?” Sienna bit her lip. She did know. But in her mind, Dean needed that thesis more, so she hadn’t cared about the cost to me. “It’s done. Just drop it, Rowan. I’ll help you create a new thesis.” She reached for my laptop, but I slapped her hand away with force. “Don’t touch my computer! I’m afraid I’ll plagiarize someone else’s work if you do!” I fought back the tears and pushed her out the door. “Get out!” For the next three days, I holed up. I didn’t just create a new thesis; I perfected the original, developing a powerful, improved version of the AI project. I sent the file to Natalie, asking her to relay it to Professor Alistair. I successfully avoided Sienna for those three days, sidestepping her attempts at conversation. 4 That evening, the class president notified me about the graduation trip scheduled for the next day. Since I was leaving the country soon, I agreed to attend. When I boarded the bus, I saw Sienna seated next to Dean Ellis. The class president rushed over when he saw my glance. “Everyone, this is Dean’s wife, Sienna Wells, our department’s legendary senior alum!” I walked past them without a word and took a seat in the back. A shadow fell over me, and Sienna sat down beside me. “I didn’t think you’d come. Dean said some of his classmates were talking, so I decided to join for support.” I managed a dry smile. “Talking? Weren’t they talking about me?” Sienna’s face darkened. “I owe you an apology for that. But you have to believe me…” “I don’t.” I cut her off, putting on my headphones and closing my eyes, signaling the conversation was over. Dean came over and sat on the armrest next to Sienna. “Rowan, I know you’re angry, but it’s done. You just need to stop struggling.” “Stop struggling for what? For you stealing my work? Or for you stealing my girlfriend?” My words were loud enough to cause a stir in the seats behind us. Dean looked panicked. “What are you talking about? I was kind enough to have the president invite you, and you not only refuse to repent but you slander me!” “Slander? Ask her.” I looked pointedly at Sienna, hoping that even now, she’d offer a shred of honesty out of respect for our relationship. “Rowan, we had something, I know, but please don’t talk about Dean this way. He is, after all… my husband.” Sienna’s eyes pleaded with me. “See? I told you she wouldn’t lie about being married.” “Rowan Finn is totally shameless, isn’t he? A plagiarist and a homewrecker.” Their whispers made my heart pound with rage. “Sienna Wells, I hope you never stop regretting what you just said!” The bus soon arrived at our first stop. I bolted out and began walking into the distance. Sienna started to follow, but Dean pulled her back. “Sienna, my dad said you’ve been to this place before. Can you show me around?” Sienna hesitated, looked at my retreating back, and then stopped. I walked for a long time, lost in my own resentment. When it was time for the next part of the itinerary, I rushed back to the bus parking lot, only to find the spot empty. No car, no people. I called the class president. “Dean said the next site was much more interesting, and everyone agreed to leave early,” the president explained. “You should have notified me! You can’t just abandon me here!” “Rowan, honestly, you haven’t been easy to deal with. No one really wanted you along. Sienna said it wasn’t far from your apartment, and you could just call a cab.” The president hung up. Holding the dead phone, I buried my face in my hands, fighting back tears of humiliation. It doesn’t matter. Graduation was tomorrow. I would prove my innocence then. The Metropolitan University’s commencement ceremony was about to begin. I had already submitted my final evidence—the original data, the recovery logs, and the new thesis—to my advisor and the department. I took my seat. Dean Ellis, having been designated an Outstanding Graduate for his “thesis,” sat in the front row. Next to him was Sienna Wells, invited back as a celebrated alumna to address the graduates. Sienna was clearly agitated, constantly scanning the room. She finally spotted me and started to stand, but Dean pulled her back. I made sure to avoid her gaze entirely. The ceremony proceeded: President’s address, Dean’s speech, then the capping and diploma distribution. Two hours passed. The final graduate walked off the stage. I was still sitting in my seat. “Our capping and diploma distribution ceremony is officially concluded…” Suddenly, a familiar voice boomed over the microphone. “Wait a minute. It’s not over yet. There’s still one student who hasn’t been capped.”

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In my last life, after my parents died from a sudden illness, they left me with my three-year-old brother. I had no choice but to drop out of school and work to support the family. For fifteen years, I worked myself to the bone, and finally, my brother got into an Ivy League university. But right at my brother’s graduation party, I saw my parents—who had been dead for fifteen years—hugging a girl my age and affectionately calling her “daughter.” In disbelief, I stepped forward to confront them, only to be met with looks of utter disgust. Through their hateful words, I learned the truth: I was actually the Mayor’s daughter, switched at birth by them. “If you hadn’t been somewhat useful, we would have strangled you long ago!” “You got Tyler into college, so your mission is complete. Now you should just go die.” At a command from my elegantly dressed “mother,” countless bodyguards surrounded me. And the brother I raised with my own hands watched coldly as I was beaten to death. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day of my parents’ funeral. 1 “Poor Tom and Mary, just when they were about to enjoy life, they’re gone!” “Riley, don’t be too sad. Tyler will have to rely on you, his big sister, from now on.” Hearing the mix of genuine concern and malicious comfort around me, and seeing the portraits in the center of the room, my heart trembled. I was actually reborn. In my last life, I was in evening study hall when I got a call from the village. They said my parents had an accident at the construction site and died at the hospital. When I rushed home, all I saw were two coffins in the middle of the yard. Overcome with grief, I fainted on the spot. When I woke up, the coffins were already buried, leaving only my wailing brother. With only two hundred dollars to my name, I had to drop out of school and take my brother to the city to make a living. Without a degree and burdened with a child, I could only do the hardest, most grueling jobs. Finally, fifteen years later, Tyler got into an Ivy League school. Just as I was happy, thinking I had finally done right by my parents, I bumped into my “dead” parents at Tyler’s graduation party. Gone were the weathered faces from my memory. They were smiling, hugging a girl my age. They looked like they had lived in luxury for years. Meanwhile, I, their “daughter,” looked older than them due to the burdens of life. When I questioned them, full of indignation, I only received their mockery. “You, a money-losing burden from another family, what right do you have to question me?” “If you hadn’t been useful, we would have killed you long ago!” “You got Tyler into college, completing your mission. Now go die and stop blocking our Tiffany’s path.” That’s when I learned I was the Mayor’s daughter they had swapped. They faked their deaths to enjoy life with their biological daughter. And the brother I raised single-handedly stood against me without hesitation after knowing everything. He watched coldly as the bodyguards beat me to death. Opening my eyes again, I was back on the day my parents’ coffins were buried. Looking at the peaceful smiles on their portraits, I suppressed the hatred rolling in my heart. Only after the coffins were in the ground and the villagers had dispersed did I go up the mountain alone with a shovel. They wanted to play dead? I wouldn’t let them have their way! Why should they get to enjoy life while I bore all the pain? Fueled by resentment, I dug up their coffins. But when I saw what was inside, I screamed in terror. My scream quickly attracted the attention of the villagers who were watching me closely. Especially when they saw the two charred bodies in the coffins, several aunts fainted from shock. The village chief, who had been following slowly behind the crowd, turned green when he saw I had dug up the graves. I was shocked to my core. I had to admit, my parents really thought of everything to fake their deaths. “Riley, how could you dig up your parents’ graves? This is treasonous!” “Your parents died so tragically to earn your tuition! And now you won’t even let them rest in peace!” With the village chief throwing accusations, the villagers’ faces changed, and they started pointing fingers at me. My eyes instantly turned red, and I cried miserably. “Chief, I didn’t want to do this, but my parents left so suddenly. I didn’t even get to see them one last time.” “I don’t believe they would just die like this. Tyler is only three! How are we supposed to live without our parents?” “Besides, Chief, didn’t you say my parents fell at the construction site? But these bodies look burned!” Impatience flashed in the Chief’s eyes, but he had to explain gently. “Girl, you must have misheard. Your parents were burned to death at the construction site.” “Is that so?” I pretended to be skeptical. Thinking he had fooled me, the Chief urged me to leave. But I rolled my eyes and extended my hand to him. “Since my parents burned to death at the site, where is their compensation money?” The Chief was dumbfounded. My parents hadn’t left instructions for this. I knew they weren’t dead, but I wasn’t having it. Why should they dump their mess on me and then reappear to enjoy the fruits of my labor when the time was right? I stared dead at the Chief, who clearly knew the inside story. “Is the construction company refusing to pay? It’s okay, Chief. Tomorrow I’ll take Tyler to the media with banners. As long as I’m alive, I’ll go to the site every day to protest.” The Chief’s head was spinning. He never expected the usually obedient me to demand money instead of panicking. He could only comfort the agitated me while calling to ask. Even from a distance, I could hear the cursing on the other end of the phone. I lowered my head, pretending to be sad, but the corners of my mouth were splitting to my ears. In this life, they wouldn’t get away without bleeding a little. Soon, the Chief returned, covering his ears. With him came the news that the “construction site” was willing to pay five thousand dollars. I didn’t know if they were in a rush to dump Tyler on me, but the money arrived quickly. Understandable. Their biological daughter was now the Mayor’s daughter. Whatever slipped through her fingers would be enough for them to live comfortably for a lifetime. After getting the passbook with my name on it, I carefully inventoried everything left at home. An ox, a pig almost ready for market, several chickens, and the currently worthless land. But I knew this land would be developed later. In my last life, when I took Tyler to the city, the villagers divided this land among themselves. This time, I wouldn’t miss this opportunity to get rich. I went to the office and used a hen that laid eggs daily to change the land title to my name. The numbers in the passbook grew, and the house emptied. Finally, on a dark night, I carried my young brother on my back and set off for the city. Listening to his steady breathing, I smiled. Since “Mom and Dad” trusted me so much, faking their deaths to leave Tyler to me… Then, as their daughter, I would definitely prepare a surprise for them. Fifteen years passed in a flash. During these fifteen years, I put all my effort into raising my brother. Under my frantic spending, my brother not only became a top student but also excelled in sports and arts. The day the college entrance exam results came out, it was just as I predicted. He scored far better than in my last life and was the top scholar in the state! That day, reporters besieged our home. Watching my brother speak eloquently on TV, I was full of anticipation. I spent so much effort just to make my “dead” parents come to me personally. I believed that they, who valued sons over daughters all their lives, wouldn’t disappoint me. Sure enough, on the day of the graduation party, just as I was accepting praise with my brother, the closed hall doors were kicked open. A familiar but aged voice reached my ears. “Tyler got into college! How can we parents not be here?” I looked over and saw my parents, who had been dead for fifteen years. I smiled secretly but frowned outwardly, looking at the village chief. The Chief, whom I had specially invited, was soaked in cold sweat, smiling awkwardly at me. The moment they appeared, the invited villagers gasped. After all, two charred bodies fifteen years ago were hard to forget. But now, these two appeared as if nothing had happened. My parents bypassed me, trying to hug my brother. My “mom” carefully touched my brother’s face, eyes red. “Tyler, I’m your mom.” My brother dodged her touch with disgust, hiding behind me. His face full of accusation: “Sis, who is this? Why is she claiming to be someone’s mom? I don’t know them!” Looking at my parents frozen in place, I smiled and patted my brother’s shoulder. Seeing his precious son refusing to let him touch him, my “dad” flew into a rage. “Riley! Did you badmouth us to Tyler?” “Otherwise, Tyler was so close to us when he was little, why would he ignore us now!” My “mom” beat her chest and cried: “You money-losing burden! You didn’t like your brother when he was born, and now you’re keeping us apart!” I rolled my eyes. He knew it was “when he was little.” Seeing my eye roll, my “dad” was furious and raised his hand to slap me. A second before the slap landed, a strong hand firmly gripped his arm. My “dad” cursed, but his eyes widened when he saw who it was. “Mr… Mr. Vance, why are you here?” “I wasn’t aware I gave the Vance family servants a holiday?” The man’s voice carried unquestionable authority. My “dad’s” face turned green. The reporters who came to interview the top scholar swarmed forward. “Mayor Vance! Mayor Vance! We heard you’re being transferred. Can we get an interview?” One look from Mayor Vance silenced everyone. His cold eyes only softened when they swept over me and my brother. Humiliated in public, my “dad” ignored the employer-employee relationship and shouted at Mayor Vance. “Mr. Vance, even if I’m your servant, you have no right to stop me from recognizing my biological son!” My “dad” smiled proudly: “Mayor, my son is this year’s top scholar!” Unexpectedly, hearing this, Mayor Vance smiled playfully. “Your son?” I couldn’t help raising an eyebrow and sneering. My “dad” still thought the one I raised with all my might was his precious Tyler. But since I knew Tyler was an ingrate, why would I repeat the same mistake? It was laughable they treated me as a fool, but hadn’t I waited fifteen years for today? Looking at my “dad’s” smug face, I finally spoke: “Actually, brother…” “He’s not your Tyler. He’s my biological brother.” Hearing this, my “dad” smiled like a villain. “How can Tyler not be my child? You girl must be crazy!” “But, you say Tyler is your biological brother? That’s incorrect. Tyler is the true blood of the Lee family.” “As for you, you’re just a bastard. If we hadn’t given you food, you would have starved to death.” I raised an eyebrow, smiling contemptuously. Laughing internally at his naivety. Didn’t he look in the mirror? How could mud produce the moon? Keep dreaming.

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When we signed the prenup, Caleb Sterling told me he didn’t know how to love. He said he was broken. So, for five years of marriage, he gave me only sex and desire. It was a marriage of convenience between two powerful families. I knew I couldn’t be greedy. I thought what we had was enough. Until the night of our fifth anniversary. I broke his one bedroom rule. For the first time, I secretly pulled off the blindfold he always made me wear. That was when I saw the tattoo inked into the hollow of his hip. It was a name. In that moment, I realized the truth. Caleb wasn’t incapable of love. He was just hiding his love, saving it all for my adoptive sister. We had a massive fight. We screamed things we couldn’t take back, wishing the other would just disappear. Ironically, the universe listened. We both drove off in a rage, the car skidded, and we went over a cliff. As we lay dying in the wreckage, Caleb looked at me, his face covered in blood, and begged: “Scarlett, if there is a next life… let’s not be married, okay?” I stared at him, laughing hysterically through the pain, dying like a madwoman. When I opened my eyes again, I was back in the Sterling family living room. Caleb was kneeling on the floor, his back straight, pleading with his parents. “Mom, Dad, I can’t marry Scarlett. The one I love is Chloe.” I froze. But relief quickly washed over me. Perfect. Because this time, I didn’t want to choose him either. 1 “Are you absolutely sure you want to marry Ethan?” Mrs. Sterling looked at me with pity. I calmly exchanged the engagement contracts with her, verifying that the name on the document was indeed Ethan Sterling, not Caleb. I smiled gently. “I’m sure, Mrs. Sterling.” She tried to warn me one last time, her voice trembling. “The best specialists all say Ethan won’t live past thirty. You… Scarlett, even if Caleb refuses the marriage, you don’t have to choose a dying man just to stay in the family.” In my past life, Ethan did die at thirty. I remembered Mrs. Sterling fainting from grief, and Mr. Sterling aging ten years overnight. Everyone mourned the loss of a genius. Ethan was brilliant, running the Sterling empire from behind the scenes despite his frail body. Underneath that weak exterior beat the strongest heart I had ever known. Before he died in that timeline, I went to see him one last time. I heard him whispering to his assistant, drifting in and out of consciousness. “I love Scarlett.” “She doesn’t need to know what I did for her. I just want her to be happy.” He believed that not all love needed to be spoken, and not all devotion required a reward. For years, no one knew—except his assistant. His love was buried so deep that I never noticed it, not until the moment he took his last breath, leaving the world full of regrets. So, even if it was just for that one sentence—”I love Scarlett”—I wanted to save him. I wouldn’t let him die with regrets this time. I looked up, smiling radiantly, and patted Mrs. Sterling’s hand. “Don’t worry,” I said softly. “Ethan is going to live a long, long life.” 2 After Mrs. Sterling left, my mother pulled me aside. “Are you doing this just to spite Caleb?” She knew how much I loved Caleb. We were childhood sweethearts. Since I was a teenager, no other boy existed in my world. I thought he felt the same. I never imagined it was all one-sided delusion. When we married in my past life, Caleb had warned me: “I grew up in a shark tank. I don’t know how to love. But everything else I can give, I will give to you.” For five years, we were the golden couple of New York society. Rich, beautiful, seemingly perfect. To maintain that illusion, I taught him how to love me. I tolerated his coldness. I even indulged his specific… preferences. Before we slept together, Caleb would always hand me a silk blindfold or use his tie to cover my eyes. He would whisper, “Scarlett, your eyes are too beautiful. If I look into them, I might lose control and hurt you.” Every time, I would blush, thinking it was romantic. On the rare occasions he forgot the blindfold, I would try to look at him, eager to see passion in his eyes. But he would just turn me around, insisting on positions where we didn’t face each other, kissing my back apologetically. I thought it was just a quirk. Until that fifth anniversary. I took off the blindfold. I saw the name Chloe tattooed intimately on his hip. Humiliation and betrayal crashed over me like a tidal wave. I went crazy. I smashed everything in the bedroom. I threw a heavy crystal ashtray at his head. I cursed him to hell. But this time? I felt nothing. I didn’t want to smash anything. I just wanted to be far away from him. Thinking back, Caleb treated me well enough. He just didn’t love me. 3 The engagement party was set for next month. Mrs. Sterling handled everything. She told me I could back out at any time. I texted back: “That wouldn’t be fair to Ethan.” He was just sick, not unlovable. I messaged my team at the research institute: Prepare the lab. I need full access to the experimental antibacterial protocols. In my last life, after Ethan’s heart transplant, I locked myself in the lab developing a new drug to prevent rejection and infection. By the time it was approved for production, he had already passed away from complications. This time, I would be ready. Suddenly, my phone buzzed. A text from Caleb. Come to The Obsidian Club. We need to talk. I declined immediately. The first thing Caleb did after his “rebirth” was come to my house, cancel our engagement, and publicly confess his love to my adopted sister, Chloe. To make Chloe happy, he spent a fortune on a private fireworks show over the Hudson River. They were trending #1 on social media. Everyone called them a fairytale match. Paparazzi caught them walking on the beach in the Hamptons. When Chloe got “tired,” Caleb knelt in the sand, massaged her ankle, and gave her a piggyback ride. His movements were practiced, gentle, adoring. Comments read: Caleb Sterling is absolutely obsessed with her. He was spending every waking moment making up for his “regrets” from the last life, treating Chloe like a princess. I didn’t object. As long as he left me alone. But in the end, I went to The Obsidian Club anyway. Not for Caleb. I wanted to see Ethan. His assistant had called me. “Ms. Jiang… Scarlett. Mr. Ethan is discussing a deal at Obsidian. If it’s urgent…” I frowned. “He’s sick and he’s at a club drinking? Is he trying to speed up the process?” The assistant went silent. I heard a faint, suppressed cough in the background. The assistant quickly gave me the room number and hung up. 4 Unexpectedly, Caleb knew I would come. He had people watching the entrance. The moment I stepped inside, two security guards flanked me and forcibly “escorted” me to Caleb’s VIP suite. They shoved me inside. I stumbled and fell to my knees on the cold marble floor. The feeling of humiliation was familiar. I clenched my fists and looked up. “Caleb, are you insane?” The room was dimly lit. Caleb bit down on a cigarette, lit it, and exhaled a cloud of smoke. “I didn’t want to do this, Scarlett.” “But you wouldn’t cooperate. You wouldn’t cancel the engagement with the family. So don’t blame me for playing dirty.” My mind went blank. The wedding was canceled. Did he not know? I tried to stand up to explain, but Caleb was already in front of me. He held a glass of amber liquid, his other hand gripping my jaw. “Don’t blame me. I just want to live the life I choose. If you’re… compromised… the family won’t force me to marry you anymore.” I stared at him, my heart turning to ice. Ten years of friendship. Five years of marriage. It all meant nothing to him. “So you’re going to drug me and toss me into some random man’s bed?” Caleb paused. His lips pressed into a thin line. For a second, he hesitated. Then he forced the liquid into my mouth. “The family is pushing for the wedding. I can’t wait anymore.” “I found a guy. Good family. He’ll take responsibility. He’ll marry you.” “Caleb, you are sick! You’re actually crazy!” I struggled, but the guards held me down. The alcohol burned my throat. I coughed violently, liquid spilling onto my white shirt, sticking to my skin. “Be a good girl, Scarlett.” His voice was terrifyingly soft. He wiped the wine from the corner of my mouth. The guards released me. I gasped for air, tears of rage stinging my eyes. “Caleb,” I rasped, laughing bitterly. “I am not going to marry you. I never was.” He smirked. “Really? I know you, Scarlett. I know how much you love me. You’d never walk away.” He was so confident. So arrogant. Suddenly, Chloe appeared at the door. She clutched her dress, staring at me with wide eyes. “Sister? Caleb? What are you…” Caleb stiffened. The cruel smirk vanished. “Chloe… why are you here?” “Who brought you? This place is filthy. You shouldn’t be here.” He rushed to her, his voice transforming into pure honey. He shielded her eyes, acting like a devout believer protecting his goddess. It was a look I had never received. Love and indifference really were black and white. I watched them, a sour taste rising in my throat. Humans are strange. In our past life, after I married Caleb, Chloe went abroad and never came back. If he loved her so much, why didn’t he chase her then? A plane ticket cost nothing to a Sterling. He was a coward. Caleb ushered Chloe out to take her home, leaving me alone in the room with the guards and the creeping effects of the drug.

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Claire Bennett, my roommate, tried to mask the surprise, but a greedy glint flashed in her eyes when she learned my monthly allowance was $4,500. She dug into her pocket, pulling out a crumpled two-dollar bill. She pressed it into my hand. “Sutton, you have way more money than you need every month, and honestly, it’s not fair to the rest of us here at Ellison. It encourages unhealthy competition. So, we’re going to split our monthly allowances. Fifty-fifty.” “I’m not trying to be unfair, of course. My monthly budget is barely two hundred dollars, so I’m giving you back two.” I almost laughed. I thought she was performing some kind of avant-garde satire. But then I looked at her, her face drawn and pale from what I knew was genuine, self-inflicted hunger, and I felt the old, misplaced pity. I reflexively transferred fifty dollars to her account, enough for a decent week’s worth of food. Her face darkened immediately as she stared at the screen. She shrieked, “What the hell is this? Didn’t you pass basic math? Half of four thousand five hundred is twenty-two hundred and fifty! You still owe me two thousand two hundred! Give it to me!” The sheer audacity was so familiar it broke the dam of my rage. I remembered what came next—the knife. The blood. I wanted to transfer rooms and never look at her again, but before I could, the memory of that cruel, righteous fury on her face returned, and with it, the cold steel. She had felt so justified, believing I was hoarding wealth that was rightfully hers. “Bitch! You have so much money and you won’t give it to me? Are you saving it for your coffin? I said split it! Are you trying to starve me? Die, you whore!” It was a visceral memory. A cold, sharp blade sinking into my sternum. I jolted, my breath catching on a ghost of a scream. I was back. I was back to the day she first found out about the money. 1 “Fifty dollars? You think you can buy me off with a pity handout? Give me the rest of the money, or I’ll make you regret it!” The familiar venomous words were proof. I had been reborn. The phantom pain of the scissors slicing through my heart made me shiver, an uncontrollable, shaking coldness that started deep in my chest. Last time, Claire knew I was wealthy, and combined with her pitiful allowance, she decided to demand a 50/50 split. I’d refused her, offered her the small cash gift out of pity, and tried to frame it as an early birthday present so she wouldn’t lose face, telling her to ask her own parents for money. But she hadn’t lost face; she’d gone into a homicidal rage, grabbing the nearest sharp object. Claire pushed my shoulder roughly. “Are you deaf?!” she yelled. I pushed her hand away, a cold smile settling on my face. I snatched her phone and immediately initiated a refund on the fifty-dollar transfer. My voice was low, cutting through the silence. “Since you look down on it so much, give me back my money.” Claire gaped, then her face twisted with a hateful fury. “You absolute tramp! You’re so rich, and you’re trying to steal my fifty dollars? Are you so broke you need to beg? Give me back my money!” I leaned in, my voice laced with venom. “Give you back your money? That fifty was mine to begin with. And you really thought you could trade two dollars for twenty-two hundred and fifty? Go back to sleep, Claire. Everything is possible in your dreams.” Her face went slack, then darkened further. She glared at me, her eyes tiny with hate. “Why are you acting so superior? I’m telling you this for your own good! What does a woman like you need that much money for? Are you going to blow it on escorts? Don’t come crying to me when you end up with some bastard child because I didn’t warn you!” She took a step toward me, puffing out her chest. “Besides, if you just gave the money to me, I’d be saving it for you anyway! It’s not like I’d waste it!” I was stunned. I knew she was shameless, but her delusions had only grown since the last time. “Do you not have parents, Claire?” I shot back, the words hitting like stones. “Do you have to beg other people for money? Are you a common beggar?” That did it. Claire exploded, lunging forward and slapping me across the face. My cheek stung, but the physical pain was nothing compared to the fury burning away the ghost of a wound. “All my parents’ money is set aside for my brother!” she screamed, her voice cracking with self-pity and entitlement. “How could a degenerate with no brothers like you ever understand real family priority?” “I’m trying to help you! Your parents are destroying you by giving you so much money! They want you to fail so they can just have a boy later! And why should I have to go beg them for money when you have enough to feed an army? I told you I’m doing this for your own good! Why are you so selfish and evil?” Her eyes were manic. “I was willing to give you back half of my two hundred dollars! Why won’t you give me half of yours? You filthy, selfish tramp! Give me the money!” “A woman doesn’t need this kind of cash! You’re probably just giving it to some scumbag hookup! You’d rather give it to some lowlife than help me, and I’m not even asking for a handout!” Tramp. Whore. Scum. The familiar words. The memory of the knife. I couldn’t stand it. This time, I didn’t hold back. I aimed a vicious kick into her gut and we were locked in a wild, furious brawl. 2 My other two roommates, Maya Finn and Michele Miller, walked in right then. They stared for a shocked second, then rushed over, pulling us apart. “What is going on?” Maya pleaded, grabbing my arm. “Just talk it out! Stop fighting!” Claire hadn’t won. Her face was a mask of sheer hatred. She wrenched free, stumbled to the door, yanked it open, and screamed at the top of her lungs, “Sutton Hayes would rather waste her money supporting men and buying herself lavish junk than helping a student in need! She probably gives all her money to some deadbeat she’s knocked up with a bastard child!” “And she just stole fifty dollars from me!” With a dramatic wail, she collapsed to her knees, clutching her head and sobbing. “I only get two hundred dollars a month! How long do you think it took me to save up that fifty dollars? How can you bully a low-income student like this?” The noise brought a crowd of curious students. The immediate reaction of the onlookers was fury. They rushed to lift Claire up, glaring at me. “Rich girl thinks she can just bully the poor kid?” one girl spat. “Who gets money like that anyway? She probably got it from some shady source! She must be supporting a side hustle or something!” “We should report this! What kind of scum are we letting into this school?” “Don’t worry, we’ll get justice for you! Give her back the money, or we’ll report you to the faculty!” I was too furious to speak. Instead, I calmly explained the situation and showed them the initial transfer and immediate refund of the fifty dollars on my phone. The crowd went silent. The loudest accusers suddenly took a step back from Claire. “Wait, really? Is that what happened? She wanted an almost two-thousand-dollar split for two dollars? That’s not bullying, that’s just… robbery.” But Claire was utterly convinced of her righteousness. She stood up straight and declared, “What did I say that was wrong? What does one person need all that money for? And yes, she gave me the fifty, so it was mine! She’s the thief for taking it back! And she still owes me the two thousand two hundred dollars! She has to give it to me!” She then turned to Maya and Michele. “Besides, I was going to split mine with her! She’s the one who refused!” Everyone stared. Michele voiced the collective thought. “Are you kidding? You wanted to trade one hundred dollars for twenty-two hundred and fifty? Are you brain-damaged?” Claire bristled. “You’re all obsessed with money! Money, money, money! So what if it was one hundred dollars? It’s the principle of the split! Are you looking down on my two hundred dollars?” She rolled her eyes in genuine exasperation. “Honestly, I can’t explain this to you simpletons. Just remember to pay up.” Then she looked directly at Maya and Michele. “And that goes for you two as well.” Maya and Michele exchanged a look of pure dread. Claire immediately sent a group message with her Venmo account. “Your allowance is two thousand a month. So you two need to send me one thousand dollars each, right now.” “And I’ll send you both a hundred dollars back, so you don’t go spreading rumors about me. I’m not ripping you off, unlike you selfish jerks.” Maya and Michele looked at her like she was a creature from another planet. Michele finally spoke, a slow, incredulous realization in her voice. “Why would we give you our money? You want to trade a hundred for a thousand? Did you forget to take your medication?” Maya added, hitting the core problem. “And if it’s a ‘dorm split,’ why aren’t we all splitting everything evenly? If you’re getting a thousand dollars from each of us, your allowance is way higher than ours!” Her face flushed crimson. “Shut up! I’m a low-income student! You guys should be doing this as a charitable donation! Can’t you see I’m starving? Why are you so damn calculating? Where’s your compassion?” The crowd finally turned completely against her. “That is beyond shameless,” a voice shouted from the doorway. “If you’re starving, talk to your parents! Why does everyone else’s money concern you? Stop being so possessive over other people’s wallets!” “She seriously had the nerve to try and flip the narrative. I thought she was a victim, but she’s just delusional! Asking for charity after trying to rob them is insane. I’d be embarrassed to help a lunatic like that.” Claire’s face was beet red. She bit her lip until it was white, tears welling in her eyes. She stamped her foot and yelled, “You all look down on poor people! You’re evil!” She then bolted out the door, leaving everyone staring at the empty hallway. The incident was laughed about for the rest of the day, but I knew the laugh wouldn’t last. Claire Bennett had far more chaos left in her. 3 The next day, Maya, Michele, and I returned to our dorm after classes to find it completely ransacked, as if a hurricane had gone through it. All my designer clothing and expensive cosmetics were gone. Worse, the emergency bank card my father had given me—the one with $10,000 on it—was missing. Maya and Michele had their valuables stolen too, and to make it even more spiteful, their beds had been slashed and covered in filthy water. Our first thought was to call the police. But just then, Claire strutted in, adorned in brand-new, gaudy jewelry and clothing. She put on a show of mock surprise. “Oh my goodness! What happened to you guys? Did you get robbed? No way! Couldn’t be!” “I told you! I told you it was for your own good to give me the money! Now look what happened! You brought this on yourselves! You were too greedy, and now you have nothing! Even your beds are unusable now! Maybe next time you’ll learn to be a little friendlier!” Her taunts were too obvious. Maya couldn’t take it and yelled, “Did you do this, you thief?” Claire pouted. “You losers only know how to attack the disadvantaged, don’t you? I’ll sue you for slander!” “Then where did you get all this new stuff?” Maya demanded, gesturing to Claire’s expensive-looking handbag. I cut Maya off. I had a different idea. I raised an eyebrow at Claire and said, “We already called the police.” Claire hadn’t expected that. Her triumphant sneer froze and began to twist into panic. “You called the cops for what?! You heartless, motherless wretches! You should have called Manager Wallace first!” She realized she’d let something slip. She quickly tried to cover. “Calling the police is damaging the school’s reputation! You’ll all be expelled! Just wait!” Right in front of us, she called Manager Wallace, our faculty advisor, twisting the story into a malicious complaint. Even through the phone, we could hear the Manager’s enraged, bellowing voice. Claire hung up, looking smug, clearly believing we were finished. Manager Wallace burst into the room moments later, his face white with rage, mixed with a hint of panicked fear. He grabbed my arm and shook it, shouting into my face: “Why the hell did you call the police? When something happens on campus, you come to me! You completely bypassed the administration! Do you have any idea what this means?” “Cancel the police call immediately! Tell them it’s a mistake, a misunderstanding! Or you’ll be expelled, do you hear me?” His voice was so loud it drew more students to the doorway. He calmed himself slightly. “You three were bullying your classmate yesterday, and I was going to deal with that, and now you’ve caused this scandal? I’m calling all your parents in! Especially yours, Sutton!” He locked eyes with me, his voice a lethal whisper. “I want to see what kind of terrible parents raise such a rotten person!” Maya gasped, realizing the threat. “But Manager, our things were stolen, and our beds were destroyed! Can’t you see?” The Manager puffed out his chest, using his authority like a shield. “I see. So what? That doesn’t justify calling the police!” I let my gaze drift between Claire, with her cheap new pearls, and Manager Wallace, whose anger was too loud to be genuine. Then I smiled a cold, devastating smile. “Manager Wallace, I just didn’t slip you a big enough bribe, did I? Is that why you’re teaming up with Claire to screw me over?” His face went from pale to scarlet. He instinctively hauled back and slapped me again, a loud crack echoing in the room. “Shut up! What the hell are you talking about?” The students watching gasped. “The teacher hit her! No way! Is what she said true?” The Manager instantly regretted his action. He looked around wildly, his hand still stinging. I pressed my advantage. “Claire is the thief. She stole our things. And you, Manager, you’re an accessory. Enjoy prison, both of you.” Claire’s eyes were filled with pure malice, but she managed a triumphant smirk. “What evidence do you have? There are no cameras in the dorms! No witnesses! No physical proof! You can’t even produce the stolen items! You say I stole it? Prove it! If you can’t, I’m suing you for slander!” The watching students began to mutter amongst themselves. The general consensus was that even with yesterday’s drama, you couldn’t accuse someone without proof. Wallace, sensing the shift, let out a shaky breath. “You think I’m afraid of the police?” he sneered. I returned his cold look with a smirk of my own. You should be. Just then, the police arrived. And I, in front of the stunned onlookers, finally presented the evidence I’d prepared.

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