Category: English

I’d stumbled into a private chat group for trust fund heiresses. Their daily routine consisted of bragging about buying new yachts. For fun, I decided to play along with my own brand of surreal humor. I asked the girls to Venmo me $50. Ping! $20,000 has been deposited into your account. The heiress said she’d hit her daily transfer limit and that I should get the rest from her sister. “My sister’s getting engaged,” she typed. “She’s in a great mood, just throwing money around. You should hit her up, catch some of that good luck!” But when I looked at the wedding invitation she posted in the group, the woman in the white dress looked hauntingly familiar. Wasn’t that my girlfriend? The one who shared my tiny, cramped apartment? The same girlfriend who, just last night, was trying to get people to click her discount link to save three dollars on a purchase. 1 Sensing my gaze, Julia Keane turned her head, nuzzling my cheek with the tip of her nose. “Babe, I just need 0.03 more diamonds to unlock the deal!” Her long lashes cast soft shadows over her almond-shaped eyes. Her brows were gentle, her lips soft and sweet. Her face was so delicate, so impossibly pretty, that she even made the knock-off cartoon pajamas she was wearing look like Chanel. My smile felt brittle. “Don’t you have a sister?” I asked, testing the waters. “You could send the link to her. She could help.” “Oh, I totally forgot!” Julia’s eyes lit up. She quickly started forwarding the message, deliberately angling her phone screen away from me. I waited, my own phone silent in my hand, my eyes fixed on the heiress chat group. Sure enough, a second later, the group’s admin—Julia’s sister—posted a link from a discount shopping app. The user “ParisianPrincess” typed, “OMG, my sister is helping out her broke boyfriend again! Can you guys click the link for him? @everyone” “HamptonsHeiress” replied with a facepalm emoji. “Is she still on that stupid dare? A while back, she was trying to get 99 likes on a post just so they could get a hotpot discount. And don’t get me started on that farming game. She had us all feeding her virtual chickens…” “ManhattanMaven” sent a scoffing reply. “She’s surprisingly dedicated to that guy. Last month she asked me to find him an apartment. Downtown Manhattan, $800 a month, south-facing windows. Please. I ended up just giving her one of my places for free.” ParisianPrincess added, “Don’t worry, it’s almost over. My sister’s getting married next week. She said she’s just going to ghost him. Clean break.” Seeing my icon was silent, the admin tagged me. “@FallenHeir, you should click the link for my sister too. And while you’re at it, hit her up for the other $30k she owes you. Hope you get back on your feet soon!” “You got it, boss,” I typed back. This was my burner account. After helping Julia with her discount, I’d added her sister as a contact. She accepted instantly and sent over $30,000. I sent back a simple message: Thanks. Congratulations on the wedding. She replied with a coffee cup emoji. Online, she was dismissive, cold, and utterly indifferent. But here, in our apartment, she rested her cheek against my knee, looking up at me with an expression of pure, trusting dependence. “Babe, I’m thirsty.” 2 I met Julia at a gala hosted by some obscenely wealthy family. I was there working as a server, and I saw her in a maid’s uniform, surrounded by a gaggle of socialites who were teasing her. “Look at the little rich girl! Is your whole outfit worth even a thousand dollars?” “I’d rather not say.” Seeing Julia, her brow furrowed in discomfort, reminded me of my first time at one of these events. I’d mistaken a glass of champagne for mouthwash and spat it onto the table. The host’s face had turned to stone. In the middle of summer, he’d poured a glass of ice water over my head. “Rinse your own mouth out,” he sneered. Having been rained on before, I saw Julia as one of my own. I felt a pang of sympathy. I walked over, took her hand, and pulled her away from the group. “The chef needs you in the kitchen.” The other women gave us a strange look. “You two know each other?” Julia looked at me and nodded. “Yeah. I’ll get back to work.” At that moment, a flicker of a smile crossed her face. I thought it was gratitude. Looking back now, I realize she was just sizing up the prey that had wandered right into her trap. After the party, I gave her a ride home on my moped. She held onto the corner of my jacket as I shared my hard-won wisdom on side hustles. “You gotta join the neighborhood groups online. They’re always posting gigs for tutoring or cleaning. And I heard from a guy that if you hang around the dumpsters in the rich neighborhoods, you can sometimes find designer stuff they just throw out.” Julia gently corrected me. “They don’t use dumpsters. All their trash is sorted and collected by a private service.” I glanced back, impressed, and made a mental note. She clearly had some experience; she wasn’t some naive kid fresh out of school. That night, I treated her to a five-dollar hot dog from a street cart. Julia wrinkled her nose and took the tiniest, most hesitant bite. I thought she was just being frugal, never considering that for a girl like her, it was the equivalent of being fed garbage. We exchanged numbers. She’d send me leads on catering gigs at mansions; I’d send her tips on how to save money. Every job she recommended was with a family that was surprisingly pleasant and respectful. I never once suspected a thing. The day I finally saved up ten thousand dollars, I asked her out to a nice dinner to celebrate. Julia got stuck in traffic, and while I was waiting at the restaurant, my family found me. An acquaintance had told them they’d seen me working in a wealthy neighborhood, supposedly making a fortune. They’d driven all night to track me down. They held me down, took my phone, and transferred every last cent out of my account. They were kind enough to leave me three dollars and sixty cents. When Julia finally arrived, I was squatting by the restaurant entrance. I looked up at her and scratched my head. “Sorry. The money’s gone. How about I take you back to my place and cook you dinner instead?” 3 That was the first time I ever saw Julia truly angry. “Aren’t you going to call the police?!” But it wasn’t that simple. Family matters never are. I’m adopted. My mother couldn’t conceive before she took me in, but when I was five, she gave birth to my sister. From that day on, I became a resource. I got into NYU, but my tuition fund was used to buy my sister designer bags. The day I was supposed to get my diploma, they tricked me into coming home, having already arranged my marriage to line their own pockets and buy my sister’s fiancé a sports car. The first suit I bought with my own paycheck was taken and used as a bed for the family dog. Every time I tried to stand up for myself, my parents would start with the waterworks, calling me an ungrateful monster, clutching their chests and talking about their weak hearts. Even the most righteous judge backs down in the face of shameless hysterics. Now, thousands of miles away in a new city, they had still managed to find me. A bitter taste filled my throat, but looking at Julia, I forced a smile. I didn’t want her to see me like this, so broken. “It’s okay. I’ll just move. I’ve dealt with this for years. Don’t worry about it.” Julia took off her jacket. It was still warm. She draped it over my shoulders, her own warmth seeping into my chilled skin. She took my cold hands in hers, and her voice was laced with an unfamiliar chill. “If you don’t solve a problem, it will never go away.” The next day, I heard my mother’s small business was being audited for tax evasion. My father’s construction site was shut down after an anonymous tip to OSHA about safety violations. My sister was fired after being caught bullying a coworker and then, in a freak accident, was mugged by some street thugs who broke both her legs. Her fiancé left her, and she lost the baby. They were so caught up in their own disasters that they never had the chance to bother me again. They simply vanished from my life. I was on the back of Julia’s moped when I heard the news. She was wobbling, still unsteady with the controls, but her voice was bright with laughter. “I had some of my friends help out. It’s fine, don’t worry.” I wrapped my arms around her. Her back was soft, shielding me from the wind. My eyes stung, and I pressed my face against her shoulder. A selfish thought crept into my mind. “I don’t have any money to pay you back,” I murmured. “How about I offer myself instead?” Julia stiffened for a moment, then answered, her voice muffled. “I’m just afraid you’ll be the one getting the short end of the deal.” Looking back, I realize she was worried about me getting hurt when I found out the truth about her identity. But what’s a poor man’s heart worth, really? I’m more upset about the buy-one-get-one-free milk teas I shared with her, the streaming accounts I let her use. All the little things she never needed, all the gestures born from my own self-deception. 4 After dinner, Julia fell asleep beside me, tucking my hand into the warmth of her arms. She knew I was always cold, my hands and feet like ice since I was a child. Quietly, I opened the heiress chat. The admin, flush with cash from her sister’s generosity, was planning a trip to Iceland to see the Northern Lights. She was giving away her old travel itinerary for Paris. The other heiresses were bored. “Paris is so last season.” The admin immediately tagged me. “@FallenHeir, you want to go to Paris? I have a friend there who also went broke and made a comeback. Maybe you could learn from her! Type 1 to claim.” “111!” I typed back instantly. I confirmed the travel dates with her—right before Julia’s engagement party. Later that night, unable to sleep, I sent a private message to the admin, Julia’s sister. “That boyfriend of your sister’s… you don’t think he’ll try to crash the wedding, do you?” She sent back a laughing emoji. “FallenHeir, you’re new here so you don’t know. My sister lost a dare and had to dress up as a maid at that party. The dumbass boyfriend played the hero and ‘rescued’ her. That’s how they got together.” “A friend of ours dared her to keep up the act for a few months. The prize was a set of antique porcelain my sister’s fiancé really wanted, so she agreed.” My fingers felt cold as they tapped against the screen. “What about the guy? Aren’t you guys going to give him some money or something?” “My sister’s been good enough to him! The guy’s one of those suckers who gives everything to his family. Julia had to get her hands dirty cleaning up his messes. A clean break is more than he deserves! Does he really think a frog can marry a princess?” “And if he gets clingy, she’ll just toss some money at him. Problems of the poor are easy to solve~” Suddenly, the phone was snatched from my hand. I looked up into Julia’s eyes, dark in the dim light of the bedroom. My heart hammered against my ribs. Did she see the tears in my eyes? Would she demand to know what was wrong? Could we finally talk about everything? If she just apologized, just explained, was there still a chance for us? I opened my mouth to ask. But Julia just turned off the screen and wrapped her arms around me, her voice thick with sleep. “Babe, don’t stay up so late. I have to work in the morning.” I lay beside her, wide awake, staring at the ceiling. My mind was already packing my bags for the trip. 5 As soon as the sun was up, Julia left for work. Before she left, she washed my clothes and hung them up to dry in the sun. I’d had a sudden bout of stomach flu last night, and she tucked a bottle of painkillers into my pocket. She gave me her usual kiss at the door and said she’d see me tonight. The moment the door closed, a notification popped up from the heiress chat. The admin had posted: “My sister is on her way to pick out a gift for her fiancé! They are SO perfect together!” What a coincidence. I was also picking out a gift to leave for Julia. The three wool sweaters in the closet were for her. The collection of plushies I thought were cheap knock-offs—all authentic, imported items Julia had bought—were also for her. Even the toilet paper was some fancy imported brand; my skin was too rough to have ever noticed the difference. The dress I’d saved up to buy for her birthday was hers to keep. I wouldn’t be around to celebrate with her this year. I logged her device out of all my shared streaming accounts. Finally, I checked the fridge. There was one carton of yogurt left. I remembered how Julia would take a few sips and then toss it. I’d once snatched it back from her, showing her how to lick the lid clean. “If you don’t lick the lid, you must be a secret millionaire.” A strange expression had flickered across her face. Then, realizing I was joking, she’d laughed and kissed the smudge of yogurt from the corner of my mouth. When she saw all my little habits born of poverty, did she find them charming? Or did she find me pathetic? I decided it didn’t matter anymore. I grabbed my suitcase, walked out of our apartment, and sent Julia one last text. “I’m out of town for work. Won’t be coming home.” Of course, she didn’t reply. A video popped up in the heiress chat. It was Julia, straightening a man’s tie, her smile gentle and elegant. “My sister helping her future husband try on his suit. So sweet,” the caption read. “HamptonsHeiress”: “999!” (for luck) “ManhattanMaven”: “A match made in heaven.” Feeling generous, I added my own comment. “Wishing the happy couple a lifetime of happiness and beautiful twin babies!” Suddenly, a cash prize notification appeared in the chat. It was from Julia. She must have been added to the group at some point. “Thank you all for the well wishes.” No one claimed the money. So I did. Wow. A hundred thousand dollars. Tears sprang to my eyes. I ordered the most expensive coffee on the menu without looking at the price, hailed a cab without checking the fare, and headed straight for the airport. 6 Landed in Paris. The unfamiliar surroundings and the crush of the crowd felt overwhelming. I dragged my suitcase, feeling out of place and clumsy. After a few steps, I saw a sign held high above the crowd. It read: FallenHeir, where are you? The woman holding the sign was dressed in a sleek black trench coat. Her features were sharp and coolly beautiful, and she looked vaguely familiar. She glanced at her watch, a picture of impatient elegance amidst the waiting throng. I ducked my head and walked over, placing my hand on her sign. “Hi.” Her voice was as cool as her expression, but surprisingly loud. “You’re FallenHeir? Let’s go. I’m Elara.” “FallenHeir, have you eaten?” “FallenHeir, where are you staying?” I hurried to catch up with her. “Shh, shh, could you keep it down? I have a name. It’s Leo!” “Right. Got it, Mr. Leo.” She took my suitcase and led the way. A discreet black Maybach was waiting at the curb. As I settled into the plush leather seat, I opened the group chat to let the admin know I’d arrived safely. But the chat was in utter chaos. The admin, ParisianPrincess, was spamming the chat. “HOLY SHIT, MY SISTER RAN AWAY FROM HER OWN ENGAGEMENT PARTY!” “ManhattanMaven” immediately replied: “Spill. Now.” “HamptonsHeiress” was more succinct: “DETAILS.”

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On the 30th day of the online hate campaign against me, my husband unlocked the door to the dark room. His childhood sweetheart, driving drunk, had hit and killed my mother in an empty alleyway. To clear her name, my husband used our child’s life to force me to sign a statement of forgiveness. Then, just to be safe, he lied to the world, claiming I was the one who had drunkenly killed my own mother. He took my phone and locked me in a dark room for a month. By the time I was let out, the media had painted me as a selfish, vicious, cold-blooded monster. I couldn’t take the pressure. I threw myself from our apartment building. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day of the accident. This time, I locked my mother in her room and refused to let her leave. But who could have known? His precious sweetheart got behind the wheel and killed another old woman anyway. 1 I had just bolted the door to my mom’s room when my husband’s call came through. “Ella? Where are you?” His voice was a frayed rope of panic and tension. When I told him I was home, I heard him let out a quiet, shaky breath of relief. He was silent for a few seconds before continuing. “Crystal… Crystal hit someone with her car. I just finished dealing with it. I’m coming home now. You have to wait for me.” I froze, the words sinking in slowly. Crystal had hit someone again. But my mom was locked safely in her room. So who did she hit this time? The phone was on speaker, and my mom heard every word Leo said. Through the heavy oak of the door, I spoke to her. “You wanted to know why I locked you in here, why I wouldn’t let you go out.” “Promise me you’ll stay hidden in that room. Don’t make a sound until I tell you it’s okay.” “You’re about to find out why I did all this.” My mom, though confused, agreed. It wasn’t long before Leo returned. The front door flew open and he rushed towards me, pulling me into a tight, suffocating hug. His voice, muffled against the top of my head, was heavy with false sorrow. “Ella, I’m so, so sorry.” “Crystal… she accidentally hit your mother. The paramedics said… she died instantly.” 2 I shoved him away, wrenching myself from his arms. My face was a mask of disbelief. “What did you say? Who did you say she killed?” Leo looked at me with that pathetic, practiced expression of pity mixed with helplessness. “Ella, I know this is impossible to accept right now. Crystal told me everything. It wasn’t on purpose, she just… her eyes played a trick on her in the dark.” “If anyone’s to blame, it’s your mom for not watching where she was going.” “I’ve already given Crystal a piece of my mind. She’s completely traumatized, so I sent her home to rest. But she promised she’d come over in a couple of days to apologize to you in person.” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Even if it wasn’t my mother who died today, it was still a human life. How could Crystal take a life and then just go home to rest, her conscience clear? “Leo, do you have any idea what you’re doing? You’re an accessory to a crime!” He sighed, pulling a folded document from his briefcase. A forgiveness agreement. He smoothed it out and held it in front of me. “I know you’re angry, but Crystal is a huge influencer with millions of followers. She can’t have a scandal like this attached to her name.” “Her father saved my life when I was a kid. I promised him I’d protect Crystal for the rest of my life. You’re my wife, Ella. We’re a team. That debt is yours to share, too.” “It was your mother who died. If you sign this, then even if this whole thing comes out later, it won’t affect Crystal.” “Just think of it as… helping me repay a debt.” My hand flew, the crack of my palm against his cheek echoing in the silent apartment. His head snapped to the side. “You’re a monster, Leo. A goddamn monster!” “Is a human life worth less than Crystal’s reputation to you?” The slap ignited a fire in his eyes. He shoved me, hard. I stumbled backward, my head cracking against the sharp corner of the coffee table. A lump, the size of an egg, instantly began to swell. He loomed over me, his face a storm cloud of disgust. “Ella, I’m not asking you. I’m telling you. You are going to sign this paper.” 3 In my last life, I never understood why Leo would throw me under the bus to protect Crystal, why he would threaten me with our own child’s life. Was his wife, his child, really worth less than her pristine reputation? This time, I understood perfectly. It was because Leo never loved me. He never loved our child. The person he loved, the person he had always loved, was Crystal. I clutched my throbbing forehead, staring up at the man I had once loved, my heart churning with a thick, bitter hatred. Hatred for what happened to my mother and me in that other life. Hatred for myself, for being so blind, for marrying a creature who was less than human. My undisguised loathing seemed to pierce through his anger, and a flicker of something like regret crossed his face. He reached a hand down, as if to pull me up. “Ella, I didn’t mean to push you. I was just angry. Let me see your head, is it bleeding…?” He was cut off by the frantic ringing of his phone. It was Crystal. He answered, and her delicate, tearful voice filled the room. “Leo, what do I do? I think someone took a picture of me.” Even though Leo had meticulously cleaned up the scene right after the crash, the alley had been dark. She hadn’t noticed a figure at the other end, phone held up, capturing the whole thing. “I just got an anonymous text with a photo. It’s a picture of our backs, standing over the body. What if they go to the police?” Crystal’s sobs were theatrical. Leo’s brow furrowed in deep concern. The police. Right. It suddenly hit me. I’d been so caught up in the chaos of my second chance that I hadn’t even thought to call them. While Leo was distracted, I pulled out my own phone, my fingers flying towards the keypad. If I could just report Crystal’s hit-and-run immediately, then no matter how well Leo cleaned the scene, the police would find the evidence. But before I could dial 911, he saw me. “Ella, what the hell do you think you’re doing? Are you calling the cops?” he roared. His hand shot out, slapping my phone from my grasp. It clattered to the floor, the screen shattering into a spiderweb of cracks. I didn’t care. I scrambled for it, desperate. The next thing I felt was a blinding, searing pain. Leo had stomped on my hand to stop me, his shoe grinding down on my fingers. He was snarling, a cruel smile twisting his lips as he pressed down, twisting his foot, crushing my bones. “Before I came home, I wiped everything clean for Crystal. The car is already on its way to a scrap yard, and the body… the body is probably being pushed into the incinerator as we speak.” “Even if you call the cops, there won’t be a shred of evidence to prove Crystal killed your mom!” 4 “It looks like you need to be taught a lesson the hard way before you’ll learn to behave.” With that, he grabbed a fistful of my hair and hauled me to my feet. My phone was a dead, black rectangle on the floor. But that wasn’t enough for him. He started dragging me towards the spare bedroom. The dark room. An entire month of my last life spent locked in there like an animal, eating and sleeping and pissing in the same small space. The memory of that bone-deep terror was so real it made my whole body tremble. As the door loomed closer, my heart hammered against my ribs. I looked at him, my eyes pleading. “Leo, please, no. I won’t call the police. Don’t lock me in there. You know how much I hate the dark.” I was trying to appeal to whatever shred of affection, whatever memory of our marriage, still existed within him. For a moment, his expression softened. He looked away. “Ella, I don’t want to hurt you. But I promised Crystal’s father I would protect her. Just sign the damn paper, and I’ll let you go.” “Why does it have to be me?” He said it as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Because it was your mother who died.” “But, Leo… how are you so absolutely certain that the person who died… was my mom?” He wasn’t expecting that. He froze. His grip on my hair loosened as he answered, almost automatically. “When Crystal called me, I drove to the scene immediately. She… she’d had a few drinks, and she was driving way too fast.” He hesitated, a hint of guilt creeping into his voice. It dropped to a near whisper. “The impact was… horrific. The body was unrecognizable.” “But I checked. She was wearing a silver bracelet on her wrist. I recognized it instantly. It was the custom one you gave your mother last year.” A custom bracelet? In that instant, everything clicked into place. I knew exactly who had died. It was my mother-in-law. Leo’s own mother. 5 Leo’s mother lived in the same complex as us. When I had the bracelets made, I ordered two identical ones—one for my mom, and one for hers. Leo wasn’t just protecting the person who killed his own mother. He had personally destroyed the evidence and sent his own mother’s body to be incinerated. The thought was so grotesquely absurd that a laugh escaped my lips, sharp and humorless. I picked up the forgiveness agreement from the floor, shoved it back in his face, and said with chilling sincerity, “Leo, I’m not qualified to sign this.” “And I’m telling you right now, if you actually force a signature on this, you will regret it for the rest of your life.” “Why?” he asked, a reflex. “Because the person who died wasn’t my mom,” I said. “It was yours.” I thought hearing this would make him pause, make him question, make him try to verify it. Instead, his face contorted with rage. He pointed a trembling finger at me. “Ella, have you lost your mind? How dare you curse my mother?” “You’d say anything to slander Crystal, wouldn’t you? It seems I was a fool to feel sorry for you.” He lunged at me again, ready to strike. I scrambled away. Watching him, a blind fool charging forward for the sake of his twisted love, I suddenly felt exhausted by it all. I sighed, preparing to call my mom out and force him to face the truth. “Leo, I’m telling you the truth. If you don’t believe me, I can…” My words were cut off by the ping of another message on his phone. It was Crystal. “Leo, is everything settled? Someone who claims they have a picture is demanding ten million dollars from me. If I don’t pay, they’re going to the police. I’m so scared.” The flicker of doubt in Leo’s eyes vanished, replaced by a storm of worry and fury. He thought for a moment, then looked at me, a slow, terrible smile spreading across his face. The words that followed were pure poison. “Besides the forgiveness statement, I just thought of an even better way to clear Crystal’s name completely.” “Ella… why don’t you take the fall for her?” “All you have to do is confess. Tell everyone that you were the one driving this morning, that you hit and killed your own mother.” “That way, even if the person with the photo comes forward, I, as your loving husband, can testify against you. I’ll say you paid them to frame Crystal.” It was the exact same plan from my previous life. My eyes burned, and a raw, ragged scream tore from my throat. “Leo, are you even human?” He was already lost in his own twisted logic, nodding to himself. “Don’t worry, Ella. I’ll hire the best defense attorney for you, get you a reduced sentence. While you’re inside, I’ll take care of our daughter, raise her myself. You won’t have a single thing to worry about.” “And when you get out, we can still be a happy family.” I choked out the words, each one tasting like blood. “You can go to hell.” “Leo, I will die before I let you get away with this!”

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After my mother and I married into the billionaire class, she decided being a shopping-obsessed socialite wasn’t enough. She wanted to be the Wicked Stepmother. To get rid of my stepbrother and monopolize the entire family fortune, one day she’d dose his juice with a laxative, the next she’d stick thumbtacks in his shoes. Our fabulous new life in a mansion was a daily circus of escalating, psychotic drama. Then, Robert’s Unattainable Ideal—the woman he’d loved and lost—saw her chance. She used the chaos my mother created as cover, setting a fire that severely burned my stepbrother, perfectly framing my mom for the attack. I, who should have been lounging by the pool as a carefree rich kid, was caught in the crossfire. My mother and I were thrown into the open ocean to die. Now I was back. Reborn. I watched my mother, Vivian, once again reaching for the bottle of laxatives, her perfectly manicured hand hovering over a glass of fresh-pressed orange juice. I pressed down hard on her wrist, fighting to stop her self-destructive insanity. “It’s just about teaching Leo a lesson, right, Mom? Don’t worry, you can leave the hard work to me.” This time, I had to take control. I had to permanently derail the horrific fate that ended us both. 1 While she was still frozen in shock, I quickly swapped the orange juice for the foul, hyper-bitter green detox concoction the chef had made for her cleanse. “Just wait, Mom. I’m going to make big brother cry, just for you.” Fearing she’d snap out of it, I clutched the noxious green liquid and stumbled over to Leo. “Leo, Mom says you have to drink this.” He shot me a glacial look, his handsome young face etched with defensive coldness. “Your psycho mom trying to give me the runs again?” I couldn’t blame him for the brutal tone. The last time he drank something from Vivian, he ended up hospitalized with severe dehydration, solidifying her reputation as the toxic stepmother. To immediately pivot Leo’s perception, I took two gulps of the bitter stuff myself. The flavor was a physical shock. “Mom said you have acne because you’re ‘too heated,’ so she wants you to drink this detox to cool down,” I said, trying to steady my voice. “Your face will clear up after this, and you’ll be back to being the hottest guy in school.” Leo watched me, tears stinging my eyes from the sheer bitterness, yet I was earnestly holding out the glass for him. He hesitated for a few seconds, then snatched the glass, swallowing the whole thing in one defiant gulp. “Done. Now stop bothering me.” The intense, bitter shock hit his system, and his eyes welled up instantly. I pulled a lollipop out of my pocket, unwrapped it, and shoved it into his mouth. “Here. Sucker. Takes the nasty taste out.” Leo looked utterly assaulted. He stared at me for a long moment, not even wiping away the tears still tracking down his cheeks. I gave him a mischievous, relieved smile and bolted back into the kitchen. “Mom, see? Big brother is crying and he can’t stop!” Though completely baffled, Vivian pulled me into a proud hug. “Stella, my genius! You’re finally thinking! Leo is the biggest obstacle to us getting the money!” “Once we team up and take him down, darling, this entire fortune belongs to us!” I hugged my beautiful but brainless mother back, silently weeping inside. Our billionaire father, Robert, treated me wonderfully, not like some piece of luggage. He gave me everything I could ever want. I was already perfectly content. I was a non-blood-related stepdaughter. Why should I scheme to take everything from his only son? But I knew I couldn’t change my mother’s mind overnight. I had no choice but to follow her around, secretly implementing my plan to change our fate. Night fell. Sure enough, Vivian crept into Leo’s room and started sticking thumbtacks into his dress shoes. The moment she was gone, I slipped in. I swapped out the thumbtacks for something else entirely. 2 The next morning, my mother stood poised, ready for the drama. “That stray dog’s child thinks he can compete with me for the inheritance? I’m going to make him suffer today!” Leo, as usual, skipped breakfast and headed toward the door to grab his backpack and shoes for school. The second he slipped his feet into his loafers, he let out a strangled cry of agony. “Who put an acupressure mat in my damn shoe?” Vivian sprayed a mouthful of coffee across the room. “A what? Where are my thumbtacks?” I quickly clamped my hand over her mouth. “Mom, keep your voice down! If anyone hears you admitting to trying to hurt Leo, you’re finished!” That was exactly what happened in the last life. Leo’s feet were bloody messes. He was in the hospital for two weeks. When Robert discovered Vivian was the culprit, he nearly handed her over to the police. She only got off after days of humiliating begging. The stain on her reputation was what gave Serena, Robert’s manipulative ex, her opening later on. I quickly pitched my alternative plan. “The acupressure insoles are perfect! He’s in pain, but he can’t report us. It’s a win-win!” As Vivian started to process this, I rushed over and grabbed Leo’s arm. “Big brother, Mom says these insoles massage your feet, help your circulation, and make you grow taller!” “Stella has a pair too! We can grow taller together!” I lifted my foot to show him the exact same spikey insole in my own sneaker. Leo’s profanity was visible on his face, but seeing my innocent, eager expression, he choked it back. He yanked his arm free, shouting impatiently, “Stop touching my stuff! And mind your own business!” But for all his bluster, a few seconds later, Leo slipped the loafers back on and hobbled out the door. In the last life, Leo always spoke so cruelly to me. I hated him, so I never intervened with my mother’s antics. But later, I understood. Leo lost his mother at birth, and Robert was always too busy running his company to be a father. He was lonely and isolated. Then he gained a vicious stepmother. It was a miserable situation for any kid. My heart ached with sudden empathy. I grabbed a milk carton and a pastry, stuffing them into his free hand. “You have to eat breakfast, Leo. You need to eat to grow tall with Stella.” He looked completely shocked again. He studied me with a complex expression for a long time, then quietly left, eating the pastry. Vivian threw her arms around me, praising me wildly. “Stella, you’re so smart! Look at him wincing with every step! He must be dying!” “His miserable face makes me so mad! Think of another way to get back at him!” I fought the urge to strangle her and opted for creative misdirection instead. “Didn’t he just tell us to mind our own business? The more he doesn’t want us involved, the more we should!” “He hates eating with us. We should force him to eat huge meals, smother him with expensive food every night, and turn him into a hideous, uncomfortable fat boy!” Vivian slapped her knee, declaring me a genius. That evening, the moment Leo got home, Vivian dragged him to the dining table. “From now on, you will eat exactly what I tell you to eat, every single meal!” Before Leo could react, plates of braised pork belly, abalone, and sticky ribs were piled onto his plate. I personally peeled two massive shrimp and held them to his mouth. “Big brother, you’re too skinny. You need to eat all the good meat!” Leo’s mouth twitched, his fury visible but trapped. Vivian only leaned in closer, shoving a massive chicken drumstick directly into his mouth. “I told you to eat! You don’t leave this table until your plate is clean!” she hissed, a triumphant, wicked gleam in her eyes. But just at that moment, Robert and Serena—the Unattainable Ideal—walked through the door. 3 Serena saw Vivian holding Leo down, her face twisted in a malicious grin. She pounced immediately. “Vivian, you wicked creature! I knew you were abusing Leo again!” “The staff told me everything! This monster forced Leo to drink poisonous juice and made him cry! She put nails in his shoes so he couldn’t walk! This malicious gold-digger belongs in prison!” Serena always positioned herself as Leo’s godmother, constantly antagonizing my mom. In the previous life, she was the one who ruthlessly burned Leo and then manipulated him into naming Vivian as the culprit, leading to our deaths. I watched Robert’s face flush with rage. He raised his hand, ready to strike Vivian. I frantically jumped forward. “My mother gave Leo bitter detox juice, not poison, and she put in massage insoles, not nails! Ask Leo!” Robert froze, his hand suspended in the air. He looked at Leo, doubtful. “Is Stella telling the truth?” Leo looked at me with a peculiar expression. My stomach dropped. I thought he was about to seize the moment to finally expose my mother. Instead, Leo calmly removed the chicken drumstick from his mouth and said faintly, “Yes.” “The detox juice cleared up my acne.” “And the acupressure insoles… after a while, they’re actually really comfortable. They relax my feet, and I don’t get tired when I play basketball.” Vivian and Serena stared, dumbfounded. Neither of them had expected Leo to defend my mother. Serena grabbed his shoulder, unwilling to give up. “Then why was she yelling at you just now?” I immediately cut in. “Mom thinks Leo is too thin, so she wanted him to eat more meat.” “She cooked this whole table of food herself.” Leo’s eyes flickered at my words. Robert’s face softened, overtaken by guilt. “Vivian, I’m sorry. I misjudged you.” Vivian, finally catching up, burst into tears and threw herself into Robert’s arms, sobbing. Serena tried to interject again. I proactively grabbed Robert’s and Leo’s hands. “Dad, it’s rare for you to be home for dinner. Let’s all eat together! I’ll peel shrimp for you and Leo!” I turned to Serena. “Aunt Serena, we don’t have a seat for you at the family table. Maybe you should eat at home tonight.” Serena gritted her teeth but was left with no choice but to retreat in humiliation. For the first time, our family of four sat down for a happy, peaceful dinner. After that day, Vivian kept up the act, determined to make Leo miserable by feeding him like a pig. Unexpectedly, Leo stopped complaining. His perpetually cold expression even started to soften. Sometimes, he’d pretend to casually drop a bag of chips or a candy bar for me after school. I breathed a sigh of relief. It felt like things were turning around. But Vivian wasn’t satisfied. “That brat has too much patience! I need a new way to make him truly suffer!” Fortunately, I had learned how to easily manipulate her. “Leo’s personality means he must hate being forced to study, Mom.” “If you start forcing him to read and do homework every day, he’ll be so furious he’ll run away from home for good!” Vivian’s eyes lit up. “If he runs away and never comes back, it’s his fault! He chose to abandon the inheritance! I can’t be blamed!” She rubbed her hands together and that very day returned with three boxes of test prep books. Leo was locked in the study right after dinner and wasn’t allowed out until after midnight. As predicted, on the first night, Leo stormed out, slamming the door. Serena’s secret maid, who was clearly spying, pressed her ear to the door. This routine went on for a while. Then, one evening, Serena dragged Robert back to the house. “Vivian verbally abuses Leo every day! I’ve heard her calling him an idiot, a deadbeat, a lazy fool—all the most degrading things!” “We hear crying from the study, and sometimes the sound of a belt hitting something! Vivian is definitely abusing him in secret!” The spy maid immediately backed her up, swearing she’d seen Leo run out crying, saying my mother was a monster who tortured him. Robert was livid. He kicked the study door open. But the scene inside stunned everyone. 4 My mother was sitting on the floor, head in her hands, sobbing. “I’m such an idiot! I don’t understand this simple English grammar! Even Stella is laughing at how stupid I am!” “I don’t care, you have to teach this idiot—me!—or my own daughter will look down on me.” Leo was fighting a smile, currently trying to bargain with her. “I’ll teach you, but you have to let me skip two of those practice tests today.” Vivian argued back. “No way! Your teacher said if you just do two more tests, you might get the number one spot in your grade!” “If you can’t get first place, you’re embarrassing your father!” As she finished, I hit her lightly with a toy belt. “Bad Mommy! Leo is already Third in his grade! That’s super good! Mommy can’t call him names!” Vivian shrieked dramatically. “Stella! You are asking for it!” Leo pulled me behind him, and the three of us dissolved into a tangled pile of play-fighting. Serena’s jaw went slack. Robert just stared. “What in the world are you doing?” Serena demanded. I took a moment to explain. “Mom wants Leo to be number one in his class, so she and I are supervising his study.” “But Mom is super dumb and can’t even do one problem, so she has to beg Leo to teach her! Shame on her!” Serena looked defeated. She grabbed Leo and frantically lifted his shirt, checking for any marks. Satisfied he wasn’t physically harmed, she glared at him. “Is this woman emotionally manipulating you? If she’s bullying you, you have to tell us!” She looked at Leo, desperate for him to turn the tide. Leo simply smiled. “Vivian isn’t bullying me. She even went to my parent-teacher conference for Dad.” “No one has ever cared about my schoolwork like this. I actually think it’s pretty good.” Leo’s words wiped the anger from Robert’s face. He embraced my mother. “Thank you, Vivian. You’ve done something I never managed to do.” The tension evaporated, replaced by unexpected warmth. Vivian grinned foolishly, giving me a secret thumbs-up, thanking me silently. The truth was, the more time Vivian spent playing this role, the more she actually softened toward Leo. And Leo, getting the family attention he’d missed for years, had genuinely bonded with us. I watched Serena storm off, and my anxiety finally eased. This life, I thought, we wouldn’t be thrown into the ocean. I could finally relax and be a rich kid. But the peace didn’t last two days… I came home from kindergarten to see two fire trucks parked outside the mansion. The familiar, terrifying sight made my heart seize up. It was the fire. Again. Shaking uncontrollably, I begged the chauffeur to rush me to the hospital. Inside the hospital room, Robert was predictably screaming at my mother. “How could you hate him so much? If anything happens to Leo, I swear, you will pay with your life!” Serena stood nearby, the familiar venomous look in her eyes. “Why did the security cameras break down today? You planned this! You wanted to burn Leo alive and steal the fortune!” My mother was sobbing, devastated. “I don’t know how it started! I’m the one who called 911! I swear, it wasn’t me…” Serena slapped her across the face. “You’ve been abusing him for months! The laxative incident proves you’re a monster! I haven’t forgotten your evil deeds!” I watched my mother crumple, unable to defend herself. My heart clenched. Then, Serena suddenly shrieked. “Leo’s awake!” She rushed to his bedside, whispered something into his ear, and then urged him loudly, “Tell us! Was it Vivian who set the fire?” Robert encouraged him. “Don’t be afraid to tell the truth, son. I’m here. No one will hurt you.” He shot a furious look at Vivian, who instantly paled. I saw Leo hesitating, the same gloomy, conflicted look he had in my past life. Sweat beaded on my palms. I prayed desperately. Please, not again. I can’t go back to the ocean. I can’t be fed to the sharks! The memory of our gruesome, agonizing death made my body stiffen, unable to breathe. In the agonizing silence, Leo slowly raised his finger and pointed directly at my mother.

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The day Luke Sterling hooked up with his assistant, I went online and posted a tweet: “Urgently seeking a new husband. Must be handsome, charming, clean-living, and a paragon of virtue. $15,000 monthly allowance, full benefits included. First come, first served.” That night, it broke the internet. “A-list actor fights male models for health insurance!” “Famous screenwriter and top director brawl over pocket money!” … A week later, Luke returned from his business trip abroad. I was at home playing poker with a few A-listers, lipstick marks all over my face from losing bets. His eyes were red-rimmed. “Vivian, don’t you love me anymore?” I glanced at him and laughed recklessly. “Luke, it’s not that I don’t love you.” “It’s that the Vivian who loved you is dead.” “She died while you were kissing your little assistant in the lounge, ignoring her call for help.” Chapter 1 After getting sick, I retired from the entertainment industry. Aside from seeing my therapist, I rarely went out. Old friends gradually stopped contacting me, and I lost interest in everything. One day, I suddenly really wanted to see Luke. So, for the first time in ages, I went to his company. Standing at the door of Luke’s office, I saw a young girl lying on the sofa opposite his desk, looking pale. Luke handed her a cup of hot tea, then leaned over to cover her stomach with a blanket. “Since you feel so terrible, why don’t I give you the day off to rest at home?” She took the cup, speaking righteously, “An assistant who leaves her boss to work all alone isn’t a good assistant.” Luke lifted his chin, gesturing toward the inner room. “Then go lie down in my lounge for a bit.” The little assistant sipped the tea and joked, “No way, Senior. You’re a married man now; I have to avoid suspicion.” Luke chuckled, shaking his head helplessly. Then he looked up and saw me standing at the door. The smile at the corner of his mouth froze slightly. I was also a bit dazed. I was still thinking about the smile Luke just gave his assistant. I’ve been much slower since getting sick. Thinking back now, it seems like he hasn’t smiled that easily in front of me for a long time since my illness began. But in an instant, he put on his usual expression and walked toward me. “Vivian, what are you doing here?” He tried to take my hand, but I instinctively pulled back slightly. Luke’s hand froze in mid-air. “Senior, is this a surprise inspection?” The little assistant, holding the cup of tea Luke gave her, stood next to him. She reached out to me with a beaming smile. “I’m Joy, also a graduate of Stanford. I don’t know if you remember me, Senior?” Joy… Joy… I studied her face. A few seconds later, I remembered. This wasn’t the first time I’d seen her. She was Luke’s junior from the same major in college. Freshman year, she fell in love with Luke at first sight. She was enthusiastic and cheerful, like a little sun, doing things with vigor. She immediately launched a fierce pursuit. At that time, I had already entered the entertainment industry. Although Luke and I were passionately in love, I couldn’t always be by his side. But he consciously avoided any interactions with the opposite sex that might affect our relationship. So he bluntly said he had a girlfriend and remained unmoved by her advances. Naturally, she didn’t believe him. A girlfriend never seen is Schrödinger’s girlfriend. She thought it was just Luke’s excuse to reject her. It wasn’t until I finished filming and returned to school that she knew it was true. I remember she looked very lost back then, tears in her eyes. Looking at me pitifully, she asked, “Senior, can I still add his contact info? If love is gone, it’s gone, but academics must go on!” Without waiting for my response, she turned to Luke and pleaded, “Senior, if I can’t pursue you, give me a chance to be a normal classmate, okay? You’re the top student in our major. If I encounter problems in my studies later, I’ll need your helping hand!” She spoke as if she were very open and honest. But how did Luke answer back then? He said, “Sorry.” “There is no need.” “You can ask the professor directly about academic matters.” I have to say, I was very happy at the time. Standing by my side, he gave me enough security. Now, so many years have passed. Joy is still that same character, like the sun, shining warmth on everyone. And I seem to have lost all joy in life, like a black hole, swallowing all the light around me. Chapter 2 Luke still gave Joy half a day off and let her go home to rest. All afternoon, I sat in Luke’s office waiting for him to get off work. He was in meetings. I stared blankly at the half-finished cup of tea Joy left on the coffee table. After work, I sat in Luke’s passenger seat. When he leaned over to help me fasten my seatbelt, I saw a small ornament on the dashboard. It was a cute, soft white rabbit. Not something a person with a cold personality like Luke would actively put in front of him. The rabbit ornament smiled softly at me. A heavy haze covered my heart. Staring blankly for a while, I suddenly spoke, “So Joy graduated.” “Yeah.” Luke responded, then explained, “She graduated last year. As soon as she graduated, she sent a resume to our company. We were short on staff, and I saw her potential, so I hired her.” He seemed to be comforting me, but the more he said, the guiltier he sounded, so he shut up. And the sudden bit of spirit and interest I had today vanished completely. I didn’t have the energy to ask further. I just leaned my head against the car window, watching the scenery fly by. Maybe, for a sick person like me. Even if today he said “there is no need” just like many years ago, giving me enough security, I wouldn’t feel happy. Chapter 3 After seeing his smile in Luke’s office, I learned to pay more attention to him. He seemed to be constantly accommodating me. Maybe out of consideration for my illness. In the past, he would share funny stories from his startup days, finding joy in hardship; he would slack off to tell me he missed the coffee I made him and the chicken soup I stewed; he would patiently listen to me ramble about bizarre events in the entertainment industry. He would share his joys, sorrows, and longing with me. Now, he has almost no emotions toward me other than gentleness. It seems that unknowingly, I lost the desire to share, leaving only unhappiness. Then, I brought my black hole emotions to him. We still cuddle to sleep and eat breakfast face to face. Everything seems the same as before. But there is an indescribable barrier between us. Luke’s smile in front of Joy always flashes before my eyes. He hasn’t been that relaxed in front of me for a long time. I made him unhappy. I want to change. In a few days, it will be our wedding anniversary. Maybe I can use a bouquet of flowers, a cake, or the coffee and chicken soup he used to miss to help me get out of this state, to help us tear open this barrier. So on our anniversary, I called him and said, “Luke, today I bought a bouquet of roses, a cake, made chicken soup, and brewed coffee.” So, do you want to come back early for dinner? Luke probably didn’t expect me to be so spirited suddenly. He was silent for a moment before replying, “I have urgent work overtime tonight, but I’ll be home before midnight.” “I prepared a gift for you. Wait for me, Vivian.” “Okay, I’ll wait for you.” I hung up the phone and sat quietly alone in the dim candlelight. The bright roses, sweet cake, and rich chicken soup on the table couldn’t make me feel the slightest bit of joy. Only endless darkness, as if it would swallow me whole the next second. Finally, I picked up the chicken soup and cake, holding the roses, and went out. Go to him. Go to him, and maybe I can escape the darkness, escape the silence, escape the powerlessness and suffocation. When I drove through the night to the underground parking garage of Luke’s company, I saw him rushing out of the elevator. Before I could get out of the car, he stepped on the gas and sped away. He was in a hurry. He abandoned the urgent work that required overtime. There was something more important. Going home? Going home to drink my chicken soup, eat cake with me, and celebrate our anniversary? Or… I drove after him. I thought, if he goes home, I can’t let him wait too long. But within five minutes, I knew his direction wasn’t the way home. The night grew darker, and the haze in my heart deepened. Subconsciously, I guessed the truth. But my heart struggled unwillingly. Maybe… maybe it’s just because I think too much after getting sick. I stepped on the gas and followed behind him. Looking at the rear of Luke’s car, I had extreme impulses several times. Why not just crash into him directly and perish together? Then anything I fear happening won’t have to happen. Passing a crossroads, the yellow light flickered. I didn’t let up on the gas. A large truck was coming from the intersection on the right. If I ran the red light, maybe I could push Luke under the truck with me. Then die. Never having to face the possibly bloody reality again. Until a loud “HONK—” The ear-piercing long horn of the truck woke me up, and I slammed on the brakes. “Damn it! Do you have a death wish? Kill yourself if you want, don’t drag others down!” The cursing of other drivers came from outside the window. I woke up. My heart beat violently. Lying on the steering wheel in a cold sweat, I couldn’t help but smile bitterly. I really am sick. Even seeking death, I involuntarily want to use such a vicious method. The green light turned on. Suppressing all terrifying thoughts, I caught up with Luke ahead. Arriving at an apartment complex, he got out of the car quickly. Running past my car, he didn’t notice me. He just rushed into a residential building while on the phone: “I’m almost there!” I sat in the car staring at that building for a while, then followed. The elevator in the building was broken. A yellow “Under Maintenance” warning sign surrounded the elevator entrance. But the voice-activated light at the stairwell entrance was on. Luke must have rushed into the emergency exit and climbed the stairs. I stood at the entrance, looking at the steps one by one under the dim light inside, looking like they could swallow me. But I still followed. One step, two steps… First floor, second floor… Listening to the sound of Luke running up the stairs, following the voice-activated lights he triggered, I climbed step by step, step by step to the thirteenth floor. The light on the fourteenth floor didn’t turn on. Luke’s destination was the thirteenth floor. I climbed a few more steps and sat down at the corner between the thirteenth and fourteenth floors. Then, I heard a rush of footsteps. Luke’s voice was a bit panicked: “Hold on a bit, I’ll take you to the hospital right away.” I slowly poked my head out and saw Luke rushing out of the corridor holding the little assistant who was groaning in pain in his arms, running down the stairs. I could see he was very worried, very anxious. He was entirely focused on the pale and fragile little assistant in his arms. So, he didn’t discover me. The voice-activated lights turned on one by one following Luke’s footsteps, then went out one by one. The surroundings fell into darkness, only the “EXIT” sign in the corner still emitting a faint green light. I sat there, letting myself be completely submerged by the darkness. It seems something changed long ago when I wasn’t aware. In Luke’s heart, there was something more important than his company, more important than me. The phone alarm rang. It was midnight. “Happy anniversary, Vivian.” I said to myself.

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I bought a used laptop online. I was expecting a beat-up machine. Instead, I received the brand-new, latest model. I opened it up. The wallpaper was a photo of me. The password? My birthday. Just as I was wondering if this was some secret admirer’s surprise gift… My phone blew up. The seller was spamming me: “Girl, I messed up! I mailed you my sister’s new laptop!” “That wasn’t the one for sale! OMG, she’s going to end me.” “Did you see the guy on the wallpaper? That’s my brother-in-law. She’s obsessed with him.” “For the sake of a hopeless romantic, can you please send it back?” 1 My four-year-old laptop finally gave up the ghost. Blue screen of death. No coming back. I was broke, waiting on my next paycheck, so buying brand new wasn’t an option. I decided to go second-hand. High risk, high reward. I spent four days scrolling through Marketplace until I found “The One.” It fit my budget perfectly, and the seller seemed chill. In the spirit of saving every penny, I decided to play the game. I pulled out the big guns and sent a message that would make any seller cringe: “Would you take $200?” A brave lowball offer from a broke man, praying for a miracle. I was ready for her to curse me out, block me, and roast me on Reddit. Instead, she replied instantly: “Sure. I’ll cover shipping too.” Mom, I think I met an angel. I was so moved I almost cried. I copy-pasted a wall of generic, flattering blessings to her default avatar: “You’re a queen,” “Manifesting wealth for you,” “You’re too kind, good karma is coming your way,” “May you win the lottery, get a promotion, have eight kids, and marry your crush.” She didn’t reply to any of that until the last one: “I claim that energy.” Of course. Everyone wants to win the lottery. Me too. I paid and filled in my address. She messaged: “We’re in the same city. Can you pick it up?” “Sure.” A while later, she texted back: “Sorry, something came up. I have to go out of town tomorrow. I can’t meet.” I quickly typed: “I can come grab it now. Where are you?” She seemed cautious and didn’t drop the address. “Too far. I’ll have my family courier it to you tomorrow.” The next afternoon, I didn’t have classes. I got home, and the package was waiting. Excited, I tore open the box. My smile froze. Something was wrong. Very wrong. This laptop was Rose Gold. The one I bought in the pictures was Space Gray. And looking at the sleek design, this was the latest flagship model. The price tag on this thing was at least ten times what I paid. Confused, I turned it over in my hands. My finger accidentally brushed the power button. The screen lit up instantly. A familiar face stared back at me. I froze. It was a photo of me. In the picture, I was standing under a cherry blossom tree, holding an ice cream cone, waving at the camera with a goofy grin. Based on my outfit, I was in high school. I looked young, energetic. Alive. Unlike now—working a 9-to-5, running on fumes, basically quiet quitting life. Why would a stranger have my photo as their wallpaper? A thought crept in: Was this a surprise gift from a friend or family member? I did just complain on my Instagram story about my laptop dying. I looked at the password prompt. I typed in my birthday. Click. Unlocked. The desktop background was me, too. The laptop was pristine. No apps installed. Just the wallpaper change. My theory solidified. I grabbed my phone to text the seller, intending to ask which friend put her up to this so I could thank them properly. But before I could type, a barrage of notifications flooded my screen. “Girl, I am so sorry. I sent the wrong one. That’s my sister’s new computer.” “It’s not the one I sold you! Ahhh, she’s going to kill me!” “Hello? Are you there? Please reply!” “I’m begging you. I was helping her ship stuff, I was half asleep, I grabbed the wrong box!” “Did you see the hot guy on the wallpaper? That’s her future husband. She cries if she doesn’t see him for a day. She’s obsessed.” “For the sake of a hopeless romantic, can you please return it?” 2 I stared at the phone in silence. The “future husband” on the wallpaper didn’t even know he had a girlfriend. I tried to rationalize it. I’m a decent-looking guy. Maybe the photo got out online and became a stock image or a meme, and the seller just happened to use it. As for the birthday… plenty of people are born on the same day. Coincidence. The seller’s panic seemed genuine, albeit dramatic. “She cries if she doesn’t see him.” Sounds like something a middle schooler would write in fanfiction. I texted back: “Okay. I’ll return it.” I knew it was a mistake. My first instinct was to give it back. I didn’t want them calling the cops. I just started my tenure-track teaching job. I needed stability, not a grand larceny charge. The seller sent a string of crying emojis and “Thank yous.” “You’re a lifesaver!” “I’ll wait for you at the mall near the Elementary School. It should be close to you. Call me when you get there.” “Deal.” I grabbed the expensive laptop and headed to the mall. I scanned the entrance but didn’t see anyone matching the seller’s vibe. I was about to call. Then I saw her. Lily Bennett. One of my students. She was staring at her oversized pink smartwatch, stomping her foot, looking nervous as hell. Seeing her triggered a memory from this morning. She had cornered me during recess, whispering: “Mr. Hayes, do you have a girlfriend?” I shook my head. “No, Lily.” She clapped her hands and dragged another boy, Noah, over to me. She looked up with dead serious eyes. “Mr. Hayes, I have two options for you…” She paused, checked a crumpled piece of paper from her pocket, and continued. “Option one: You become my brother-in-law. Option two: You become his uncle-in-law. Pick one.” I didn’t process it immediately. Then I remembered Lily is Noah’s aunt. Noah chimed in, waving his arms. “Yeah! My aunt is super pretty, super nice. She’s tall, like 5’9″, she’s a cop, and she’s got a great… personality!” I laughed. They were trying to set me up. But I didn’t take a third grader’s matchmaking seriously. I held up two fingers. “I’ll give you two options. One: Double homework. Two: Triple homework. Pick one.” They went silent. Lily’s face paled at the mention of homework. She grabbed Noah and bolted. Now, seeing her at the mall, I wanted to hide. Lily was a chatterbox. I didn’t need another “Choose your own adventure” dating proposal. I turned around, pretending to inspect the sky, then my shoes. Don’t make eye contact. “Mr. Hayes!” Too late. She sprinted toward me on her short legs, waving frantically. “What a coincidence, Mr. Hayes!” Then her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. “You’re not waiting for a girlfriend, are you?” I rubbed my temples. I looked around. No parents. It was 7:30 PM. Sun was setting. I crouched down to her level. “What are you doing here? Where are your parents?” Lily flashed her smartwatch. “I may look like I’m loitering, but I am actually protecting my sister’s love life… and my own life!” She was so dramatic. “Does your mom know you’re here? It’s getting dark.” Lily pointed to a sleek luxury car parked by the curb. “It’s fine. The driver is right there.” I nodded. Then I remembered why I was here. I hadn’t found the seller yet. I dialed the number from the chat. The next second. Lily’s smartwatch started ringing. 3 I have never seen a child’s face cycle through so many emotions in five seconds. Lily stared at the laptop in my arms. Her jaw dropped. Her eyes widened. Then, realization hit her like a truck. Her voice trembled. “Mr… Mr. Hayes? You bought the computer?” “I… uh… I was just making stuff up on the app!” I handed the laptop to her. “Here. Take it.” I paused. “Lying isn’t a good habit, Lily. Also, tell your sister to refund my money.” Lily panicked. “Teacher! I can’t refund it! If the money disappears, she’ll know I sold it to you! She’ll kill me!” She rubbed her face, fake crying. “Boohoo, she hits really hard. You don’t want me to come to school with a black eye, do you?” “I thought you said she was a cop? Cops beat people up?” “What? Oh! No! She doesn’t hit people. She only hits me. No, wait, she doesn’t hit me either. She’s actually really nice! A total sweetheart! Mr. Hayes, please…” Her lie was falling apart. I sighed. “Lily, listen. You haven’t given me the other computer—the one I actually paid for. If I don’t get a computer, I need a refund. That’s how math works.” Lily wiped her dry tears and looked up at me with puppy dog eyes. “Mr. Hayes… can you come to my house and get it?” 4 I followed Lily into her house. Everyone in the living room turned to look at us. Lily greeted them politely. “Hi Mom, hi Dad.” “Sis… you’re back?” I followed her gaze to a woman resting on the sofa, eyes closed. This must be the older sister. She wore a casual T-shirt and sweatpants. Her skin was a healthy tan, and even relaxed, I could see the definition of muscles under the fabric. She had long legs, sharp features, and an undeniable aura of cool. Lily didn’t mention her sister looked like a supermodel. I stared. I couldn’t help it. Lily tugged on my sleeve. “Mr. Hayes, you’re drooling.” “I am not.” I coughed awkwardly and whispered, “Just get me the computer.” Lily ran over to the sleeping woman and shook her arm. “Riley! Wake up! Emergency! Big emergency!” The parents intervened. “Lily, stop it. Riley just got back from a case. She’s exhausted.” The parents walked over to me, looking confused. “And you are?” I was confused too. Lily’s “parent” added me on social media right after the school year started. They liked all my posts. I post a lot. Selfies, rants, food. There’s no way they wouldn’t recognize me. But they looked at me like a total stranger. I smiled professionally. “Hi, I’m Lily’s homeroom teacher, Harper Hayes.” Before the parents could react, the woman on the couch snapped her eyes open. She looked straight at me. Her gaze was sharp, tactical. Police eyes. I quickly looked away to avoid being caught staring. “Oh! Mr. Hayes! Come in, come in!” The parents ushered me in. Lily, meanwhile, was ignoring the mission. She was bargaining with her sister. “Tank! Buy me the big Lego tank! Or else…” Riley Bennett covered her ears, grabbed Lily by the collar of her uniform, and tossed her aside like a sack of potatoes. “I said no tank until you pass Math. Be quiet.” I sat on the sofa. Lily’s mom brought me tea. “Mr. Hayes, did Lily get in trouble? She is a handful. If she’s bothering you, let us know.” “No, no,” I waved my hands. “Lily is great. I actually… bought a computer from Lily. Or rather, from Riley. I’m just here to pick it up.” “Riley? Why are you just standing there? Go get Mr. Hayes his computer.” Riley stood up, frowning slightly. Her eyes—beautiful, almond-shaped—seemed deep in thought. She walked past me without a word, heading to her room. Lily punched the sofa cushion. “She won’t buy it. She’s a villain. Riley Bennett is a villain.” I decided to make small talk to break the tension. “Lily is actually a good student. Very talkative. She’s already talked three desk-mates into requesting a seat change…” Before I could finish, a slice of orange was shoved into my mouth. “Mr. Hayes, you talk too much. Eat some fruit. My sister peeled it.” I looked down at the little menace. She was glaring at me. Lily hopped off the sofa and dragged the expensive laptop onto the coffee table. She opened it. The screen lit up. My face, under the cherry blossom tree, beamed at the whole family. Lily went “Whoa!” Her parents leaned in. Then looked at the screen. Then at me. Riley walked out of her bedroom at that exact moment. Lily made a dramatic ‘O’ shape with her mouth. “Oh my god, Riley! Why is Mr. Hayes on your wallpaper? That’s so… specific.”

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Claire and I weren’t just a couple; we were a shared history, two chapters bound in the same book. We grew up on the same quiet street, went through high school together, and then, without a single spoken negotiation, listed the same highly selective university on our applications. Everyone called us an inevitability. Four years of college were a continuous loop of shared existence. I hit the gym court, and she had the water bottle ready. I lived in the engineering lab, and she saved my favorite spot in the quiet stacks of the library. Even Mrs. Kim, the manager at the campus grill, would hold back the last plate of her famous chicken burger for “the little professors.” Our perfect symmetry held until the day the acceptance letters arrived for graduate school. I was in. She wasn’t. What made my heart plummet further was my advisor’s offer: a direct-track Ph.D., fully funded, based on my postgraduate research. I panicked internally. I was terrified of putting my life so far ahead of hers, of the distance it would create. But Claire, eyes shining with unshed tears, reached up and kissed my forehead. “You think a piece of paper defines us, Cam? Don’t be stupid. Your success is my bragging right. I’d wait forever for you.” The day my doctoral dissertation passed, I clutched a flight ticket I’d bought the night before, rushing straight back to her apartment. Tucked deep in my pocket was the engagement ring I’d saved for three grueling years. This was it. I was finally going to ask her. I stopped cold on the sidewalk in front of her building. The air hissed out of my lungs. A poster was stretched taut across the entry to the building, a gaudy, screaming in primary colors: CONGRATULATIONS TO Claire AND RHYS—WELCOME BABY BOY. …… Claire. The name I’d spoken for twenty-something years felt like rust and metal in my throat. I was nailed to the spot as the familiar front door swung open. She emerged. Still the same gentle face, the same soft curve of her smile, but in her arms, she was carefully cradling an infant. Beside her, a man I didn’t recognize wrapped an arm around her shoulder with proprietary affection. Her face was serene, radiating a completeness I’d never seen before. The neighbors’ voices buzzed like angry wasps around my ears: “Look at that family of three, perfect, aren’t they?” “Rhys is such a doting father. He cooked for her every single day she was pregnant.” “And so thoughtful to her mom! He and Diane are like mother and son.” Blood hammered in my temples. I wanted to rip that poster down, to grab her and demand the truth. She said she would wait forever… I took a blind step forward, but a cool hand clamped onto my arm. I spun around and faced Diane, Claire’s mother. In my memories, her face was always wreathed in the warmest, kindest smiles. I remembered her stroking my hair, sliding her father’s heirloom timepiece onto my wrist years ago, telling me, “This is for the man who marries my girl.” Now, her face was etched with a complex mix of guilt and exhaustion, her lips pressed into a thin, white line. “What are you doing back?” Tears instantly flooded my eyes. I gripped her arm, my voice catching and shredding. “Diane, why? She told me she wouldn’t marry anyone but me…” Her gaze flickered down to the empty space on my wrist where her father’s watch should have been. She sighed, her tone weary and brutally honest. “You left, Cameron. You went off to chase that Ph.D. for years. How much time does a girl have? Claire couldn’t wait. We couldn’t afford to wait.” She let out a heavy sigh, a flicker of shame in her eyes. “I was the one who pushed her to go on dates. She fought me at first, locked herself in her room, just staring at your old photos…” “But then she met Rhys… He’s solid. Gentle. He wanted a real life, a family, now. Not after five more years of research and papers.” She looked at my tear-streaked face with pity, but the dominant emotion was a rigid, final detachment. “You and Claire… your chapter is closed.” “She’s happy now. Rhys is a good son-in-law, and that baby is the air we breathe. You need to let go, son. Move on… And please, don’t try to see her again.” She withdrew her hand, turning to join the bright, noisy scene—her new son-in-law, her grandchild. The last bit of scaffolding that had held me upright shattered. I stood in the shadow, a disoriented ghost, watching Diane take the baby and laugh, watching her hug Rhys and whisper something. The sunlight was warm and golden on their perfect circle. The velvet box in my pocket—the one holding the ring I’d saved three years for—dug a searing crescent into my palm. The world began to spin, blurring at the edges. I felt the last anchor line snap, and heard the muffled thud as my body hit the pavement. Darkness rushed in. The last thing I saw was that glaring, triumphant poster. I woke up in a sterile, white hospital room. Claire was slumped in the chair next to the bed, deep, dark shadows beneath her eyes. Startled by my movement, she bolted upright, leaning close. Her finger brushed my cheek, her voice rough and cracked. “You’re awake? Where does it hurt? The police called. They said you collapsed outside the apartment…” She choked on the words, swallowing hard, her eyes flooding red. I stared at her genuine panic and pain, and a memory, sharp and specific, cut through the fog. The winter after my parents’ accident. I was seventeen, a ghost in the funeral home corner, staring at their fixed, black-and-white smiles. She was the one who pushed open that heavy oak door, knelt by me, and chafed the circulation back into my frozen hands. “Don’t be scared, Cam,” she’d promised, her voice clear and strong. “I’ll be your family now.” She had kept that promise. Matching university codes on application forms. Waking up at 4 AM during my finals week to make me coffee. Video-calling me at midnight during my most brutal dissertation months just to read highly technical reference papers aloud. “My little genius,” she’d told me, “you have to fly high.” But now… “Was the dissertation defense too much?” she whispered, wiping the moisture from my cheek with her thumb. “Or did all that pressure I put on you… did that finally break you?” She lowered her head, gently pressing her forehead to mine, just like she did whenever I was upset as a child. “Don’t be stupid,” her voice was muffled against me. “Even if you never graduated, I’d still take care of you. I meant it. No matter what, I’ve got you.” I knew she meant it now, too. Just as I knew the phone in her jeans pocket was vibrating. The caller ID, which I could just make out, was listed as “Rhys.” It was the third time the screen had lit up. She finally pulled away, glancing down at the phone, her brow furrowing almost imperceptibly. “I have to take this.” She stood and walked toward the door, her tone still gentle. “Hello? Did the baby wake up again? Okay, use the 40ml scoop… and check the water temperature first, you know how he gets…” The door clicked shut, but her voice drifted through the gap. “Formula can, third shelf… I’ll be back as soon as I can.” I closed my eyes, a single tear tracing a path down my temple. I heard the girl on the snowy sidewalk saying, “Don’t be scared.” I heard the twenty-three-year-old in the library kissing my forehead and promising, “I’ll wait forever.” I heard the woman next to my bed insisting, “No matter what, I’ve got you.” And then I heard the present—the familiar, loving cadence of her voice, directed at another man, nurturing their new life. The call ended. My heart was finally, completely dead. She pushed the door open, her face a mix of lingering worry and apology. But that worry was now divided, split between me and the husband and son on the other end of the line. “Something came up with work,” she said, her eyes shifting away from mine. “I have to go home for a bit.” I watched her, and then, very quietly, I laughed. “Go.” I turned my head toward the window. Her guilt deepened. “I… I’ll come right back after I handle it.” She turned and left the room quickly. A moment later, a nurse pushed the door open, smiling softly. “Was that your fiancée? She’s a trooper. Watched you all night, her eyes were so bloodshot.” She handed me a few sheets of paper and turned to leave. I gripped the thin paper, staring out at the hallway where Claire’s shadow had just disappeared. A faint sound echoed in my mind. The old, drafty apartment we’d rented while in school. She’d wrapped her arms around me from behind, resting her chin on the top of my head. “We’ll have two,” she’d said. “One smart like you, one handsome like me.” “Our parents would be so happy. You’ll have a house, a big, noisy, full life.” The sunset back then had filtered through the window, bathing the whole room in a warm gold. Now, there was only the pale, clinical glare of the hospital lamp. I didn’t have a family anymore. My parents were long gone, and Claire… she had become someone else’s family. My phone vibrated. A text from a number I didn’t know. It was a photo. Rhys was holding the baby, smiling genially at the camera. Diane stood beside them, looking every bit the proud grandmother. Claire was tucked into Rhys’s side. The background was clearly their living room. Rhys’s hand, resting casually on the baby carrier strap, was wearing an heirloom watch. I automatically lifted my hand to my wrist. Empty. It had been taken off me while I was unconscious. When? I gave a dry, self-mocking laugh. Maybe when she was stroking my face and calling me “stupid” for thinking I could lose her? The text continued below the image: “The watch looks good on me, don’t you think? Rhys. By the way. And the little guy? Claire says his eyes are exactly like mine.” “We didn’t meet on a blind date, Cameron. We met while you were busy writing the abstract for your final defense. The day after she promised you forever, to be precise.” “All those years in the ivory tower, Cam. All that brilliance. And you couldn’t see the one thing happening right under your nose. I helped her pick out the poster, just for you.” Each word was a poisoned dart, sinking into the last warm corner of my heart. Her late-night video calls, reading me references, overlapped with the quiet, domestic moments where she was falling for, and starting a life with, another man. A wave of gut-churning nausea swept over me. The last vestige of hope, of hesitation, was crushed by this malicious show of victory. I opened a travel app and booked a one-way flight for the next morning. There was nothing left here worth staying for. The next morning, I checked myself out of the hospital. The sky was gray, spitting a fine, cold rain. Since my parents’ deaths, I had technically lived with Claire until college, but I still had a few boxes of books and belongings in her old room. I needed to cut the tie clean. The key slid into the lock, turning with a stiff, heavy click. I pushed the door open. The familiar space was saturated with an alien scent. My old black leather loafers were gone from the entry, replaced by a pair of new, chunky, cable-knit slippers. The mismatched ceramic mugs Claire and I had made in a disastrous college art class were now a lone, chipped survivor on the shelf above the kettle. The living room sofa was covered with a beige, floral throw I didn’t recognize, and the coffee table held a mother-and-baby magazine and a half-empty bottle of bottle-washing soap. Each replaced object felt like a tiny, sharp splinter. “Rhys? You’re back early today…” Diane’s voice called out from the back of the apartment, carrying its usual, bright tone. Her footsteps approached, and her smile instantly froze the moment she saw me standing in the doorway. “What are you doing here?” She instinctively blocked the hallway. “Claire isn’t here. Please just go, don’t start trouble.” Start trouble. The phrase landed softly, but the impact was a dull, bruising ache in my chest. “I’ve come for the few things I left here,” my voice was unnervingly calm. “I’ll be gone once I’ve got them.” A look of distress flashed across Diane’s face, but before she could speak, the sound of a key turning and a man’s footsteps came from outside. Rhys pushed the door open, a baby bundled in his arms. The soft smile he wore for his son hardened into raw hostility when his eyes met mine. “What the hell are you doing here?” He clutched the baby tighter. “Didn’t my text spell it out clearly enough? Claire is my wife now, we have a child! How dare you show up at my home?” He took a step closer, and I was hit with the sweet, sickening scent of baby formula on his shirt. “Who let you in? Get out! Get out now!” He shoved his free hand into my shoulder. I stumbled back, my spine hitting the cold, sharp edge of the shoe rack. “Rhys, stop it…” Diane tried to intervene. “Mom!” Rhys’s voice was a harsh threat. “If you take his side, I’m walking out right now, and I’m taking my son with me!” Diane’s outstretched hand froze mid-air, then fell away. She turned her face, defeated. Just then, the door swung open again. Claire walked in, bringing the cold air of the street with her. She stopped dead, her eyes scanning the scene. Her face instantly drained of color. “Claire!” Rhys practically threw himself at her. “He just barged in, he scared the baby! He even shoved me and nearly made me drop him!” Claire’s eyes darted frantically between Rhys and me, but her attention immediately snapped to the infant’s face in Rhys’s arms. That tiny, wrinkled face completely commandeered her focus. “I didn’t push him.” My voice was low, firm, but she ignored me. At that exact moment, Rhys let out a sharp, theatrical yelp and deliberately swayed backward. The baby in his arms dipped dangerously low. Claire’s eyes widened in sheer terror. Instinct took over. She shoved me aside with all her strength. “The baby!” I was caught completely off guard. I lost my balance and crashed backward. The vase on the entryway table shattered. I felt the stinging of shards against my skin. A warm, slick sensation began to spread from my lower abdomen. It pooled quickly on the floor, a patch of shocking, vivid red. The sounds of the world rushed away. All that was left was the tearing pain in my gut and the sight of that rapidly expanding stain. I curled into a ball on the cold tile, unable to make a sound, only able to look up at the woman who was frozen, clutching her child. Her face was a mask of horrified disbelief, staring at the blood beneath me. I opened my mouth, tears blurring my vision as I forced the words out. “Claire…” “Did I become so disposable that you had to destroy me to protect him?”

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My boyfriend had a stepsister who was diagnosed with a serious illness. He begged me to sell the house I just got from the demolition compensation to pay for her treatment. “It’s a matter of life and death. Help her this once, please?” His words didn’t move me in the slightest. Thinking of the scene I just witnessed, him secretly kissing this so-called sister, I only felt disgusted. 1 I got five apartments from the demolition compensation. Soon after, my boyfriend, Liam Chen, gave up his guaranteed spot for a master’s degree at Stanford and found a job locally, saying he didn’t want to be in a long-distance relationship anymore. Today was our first night living together. As soon as the door closed, Liam pressed my wrist, kissing down from my earlobe. In a trance, I suddenly remembered my best friend asking me a few days ago if I remembered Lia Chen, Liam’s stepsister. “I heard she was diagnosd with a serious illness recently. The treatment cost shouldn’t be a small amount.” “You guys were long-distance for three years, and he never mentioned coming here to develop his career. But as soon as your family got the demolition compensation, he came over?” “And he had to give up a guaranteed spot at Stanford. That’s Stanford…” Finally, I couldn’t hold back. When his hand was on my waist, I called him, “Liam.” “Hmm?” “Why did you suddenly give up the guaranteed admission?” Liam paused slightly, looked up at me, and said word by word, “Chloe Zhou, I’m not after your money.” “What about Lia?” “What does it have to do with her?” Liam’s voice lowered, obviously displeased. Looking at his darkened eyes, a trace of uneasiness arose in my heart. Once, I secretly went to New York to find Liam, wanting to give him a surprise. Unexpectedly, downstairs at his dorm, I saw Lia hugging him from behind. “You’re with her just to piss me off, right?” “Of course not.” Liam quickly pushed her away. “How can you compare to her?” I was shocked at the time. Lia actually had such feelings for him. But fortunately, Liam seemed very repulsed. “Babe.” Liam leaned over silently, interrupting this topic with practical action. “Been long-distance for so long, you miss me too, right?” His voice went past my ear, carrying a subtle hint, soft and teasing. He had never treated me like this before. In our three years of dating, we never crossed the line. He said that kind of thing should wait until marriage. My body immediately felt tingly like an electric shock, and my thoughts went haywire. 2 The atmosphere was right, and I subconsciously asked again, “How much is Lia’s surgery fee?” “Chloe, I’ll say it again, I’m not after your money.” “Giving up the guaranteed admission is because I negotiated a project with a company here, and they promised to give me five percent equity.” “After the project is completed, I will continue my master’s degree.” Liam looked down at me. Both his expression and tone were very frank. But one thing was, from beginning to end, he was deliberately avoiding topics related to Lia. I wanted to say something else, but his kiss landed fiercely. “It’s so good that all of Chloe’s firsts were given to me.” Hearing his faint laughter, I blushed and retorted, “Aren’t yours too?” Liam obviously stiffened. Liam’s phone rang inappropriately. It was Lia. As soon as the call connected, Lia’s loud crying came from the other end. “Brother, it hurts so much. Do you think I’m going to die…” “Can you come over and accompany me, please?” Liam hung up abruptly. The warm yellow light of the bedside lamp extended to his lowered eyelashes. His quiet appearance made me flustered. “Are you going to the hospital?” He suddenly pulled me into his arms and kissed the top of my hair. “Not going. I’ll stay right here. Sleep.” … It seemed to rain heavily in the second half of the night. Woken up by thunder, I instinctively turned over to find Liam. There was no one beside me. Not only the bedroom, I searched the whole house and didn’t see him. Liam was not at home. I sat blankly on the sofa all night, dialing Liam’s phone countless times during the period. No one answered. My emotions suddenly became incredibly anxious, dialing nonstop. The tenth time, the phone rang once, and then, it was hung up by the other side. 3 Waking up on the sofa the next day, the sky was still dim, and there was an extra thin blanket on my body. The sound of淅沥 water came from the bathroom in the master bedroom. It should be Liam who came back and was taking a shower. Stepping towards the bedroom with weak steps, I needed an explanation from him. The lights were on inside, and the door was ajar. I saw an unfamiliar profile. It was actually Lia. She was carefully tidying up the clothes Liam had just taken off on the bed, without any taboo. Blue tie, white shirt, black trousers… Even the most private ones, dark blue boxer briefs. Her movements were incredibly skilled, as if she had done this countless times. “Lia, pass me the clothes.” Liam’s voice came from the bathroom. Lia skillfully took out a new pair of boxer briefs from the closet and handed them through the crack of the bathroom door. Liam also took them very naturally. This scene stunned me directly. Even Lia didn’t notice when I walked over. “Did you sleep well on the sofa?” “I’m really sorry. Just now, my brother intended to carry you to the bed to sleep. Who made me happen to feel unwell? My brother felt distress for me so he…” She deliberately paused before making a soft tsk sound, “I have to say, my brother’s bed is really soft.” “Put away your thoughts.” I interrupted her coldly, “Liam will explain this to me. No need for you to add oil and vinegar.” Although I said so, my mind couldn’t help but recall the scene just now. This… didn’t look like siblings, more like lovers. “A girlfriend would do things like tidying up private clothes. Don’t bother yourself as a sister.” “Girlfriend? You don’t think my brother genuinely likes you, do you?” “I heard you secretly crushed on my brother for many years before?” She looked me up and down with that disdainful look. I looked at her, completely stunned. This matter has always been my secret. How did she know? In school, Liam was quite famous. Good-looking, good grades, just a bit aloof. We were desk mates. I silently liked him for several years but didn’t dare to confess. During the freshman winter break, at an old classmates gathering, it was very sudden that Liam confessed to me, and we naturally got together. I heard Liam’s father remarried that year too. “Of course my brother told me.” She seemed to see through my thoughts at a glance and laughed very proudly. I stood frozen in place, almost overwhelmed by a huge sense of shame. Lia still wouldn’t let me go, her tone very arrogant, “To raise money for my surgery, my brother was even willing to give up the Stanford guaranteed admission.” “So what if you’re a girlfriend? In his heart, can you compare to me?” “Also not right, he has never touched you, what kind of girlfriend are you.” “Do you know he and I—” “Enough.” I didn’t want to listen and turned to leave. Lia grabbed me and wouldn’t let me go. “What, afraid to listen now?” I shook her off fiercely. A painful muffled groan came from behind. Lia fell wretchedly on the ground, her messy long hair covering half of her face, her lips white. This scene was happened to be seen by Liam who just came out of the bathroom. I could feel the coldness in his eyes very obviously. He walked over, grabbing my arm forcefully, pulling my whole body forward, “She’s a patient. Why are you bickering with her?” My arm was pinched painfully. Liam seemed completely unaware, his face full of anger. “Brother…” Liam instantly flung me away. I clutched my arm and staggered a few steps, watching helplessly as he picked Lia up in his arms and hurried out of the bedroom. 4 Liam didn’t come back all day. I heard that in the evening, Lia started vomiting blood uncontrollably without warning and was rushed to the hospital for emergency treatment. When I got there, Liam was standing straight outside the operating room. Beside him, Lia’s mother was crying with her face covered. “Liam.” I called him. He stood still, as if he didn’t hear. Minutes later, the doors to the operating room were pushed open, and a nurse hurried out. “The spare blood is used up. Is anyone here type B blood?” Lia’s mother almost fainted hearing this. “Neither he nor I are.” Liam turned to look at me. “Chloe, you’re type B blood.” “I have anemia, did you forget?” I asked him. People with severe anemia are not suitable for blood donation; there is a risk of inducing myocardial infarction and cerebral infarction. Liam knew about this. When he found out I had anemia before, Liam asked very slightly, “Anemia is so severe, why didn’t you tell me?” He said, “Chloe, I will slowly understand you little by little in the future.” At that moment, his guilt and pity were genuine. Unfortunately now, he even forgot I had anemia. After I reminded him, not only did he not feel guilty at all, but his tone also began to become impatient, “You need to distinguish which is more important.” “I won’t joke with my own life.” I replied decisively. “If you hadn’t pushed her this morning, how could she suddenly have an attack?” He said accusingly. “That was because she—” Before I could finish, I was interrupted coldly by Liam, “Chloe, people have to be responsible for their own actions.” Looking at his calm and composed face, I couldn’t tell if I was angry or sad. In the stalemate interval, another nurse ran over and said they found spare blood in the blood bank again. The operating lights lit up again. Until the operation ended, Liam and I didn’t say another word. Hearing the doctor say Lia was fine, I left. Returning to Liam’s house, I began packing my things. One of the apartments I got from the demolition was renovated, I intended to move there. Contacting the moving company and scheduling the moving time, it was already past midnight. Suddenly received Lia’s friend request, “Tell you something.” Hesitated for a few seconds, still approved it. Lia immediately sent a sentence: “I fell on purpose.” Before I could react, she withdrew it in seconds. Another sentence came, “With your IQ, you probably haven’t had time to take a screenshot yet, right?”

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I had the worst luck in the world. During a live-streamed audition for a dating reality show, my dress was lifted by a gust of sea wind, exposing me to the entire internet. The screenshots went viral instantly. I was the laughingstock of the year. But that humiliating accident somehow “awakened” a paralyzed billionaire who hadn’t felt desire in years. His younger brother offered me eighty million dollars on the spot. The job? “Spend his birthday with him.” I signed the contract and became his private companion. Every day, I walked past him in high heels. He could look, but he couldn’t touch. But the one who went crazy first wasn’t him. It was his brother. 1 I swear I must have been cursed. My flashing incident was trending #1. As soon as my stilettos hit the red carpet, a gust of wind off the Pacific lifted my white skirt, Marilyn Monroe style, but without the grace. The producers didn’t cut the feed fast enough. The comments section exploded. “That innocent vibe is killer!” “Is she here to date or to commit a crime?” “Wife material!” I stood there frozen, the sound of shutters clicking like gunfire around me. I wanted to die. The worst part was, I didn’t even want to be there. I was filling in for my childhood best friend, Chloe. She had a fever and a swollen face, so she shoved me into the dangerous white dress. “Just stand there for me! You’re so conservative you radiate holy light. They definitely won’t pick you! Just do it!” I shouldn’t have listened to her. Three hours later, I was curled up on a deserted stretch of Malibu beach, burying my face in my knees. Last week, I got laid off. Yesterday, my boyfriend of seven years dumped me. He said I was as exciting as a dusty Bible in a convent, then slept with a girl he just met nineteen times in three days. And today, the whole world had seen my underwear. “Excuse me.” A gentle, unfamiliar male voice broke the silence. I looked up. A young man stood there in a crisp white shirt, smiling perfectly. “Hi, I’m Ethan Vance. I’d like to talk to you.” He pointed behind him. At the end of the wooden boardwalk, a silver-grey wheelchair sat in the shadows. The man in the wheelchair wore a dark black shirt. His features were sharp as a knife, his eyes cold as ice. But when his gaze landed on me, his pupils dilated—shock, delight, and a terrifying hint of… greed. Before I could refuse, Ethan ushered me into a black sedan. The leather seats smelled of expensive cologne. The wheelchair was folded in the trunk. The man, Sterling Vance, stared at me the whole ride. He looked like he was dissecting a struggling butterfly. Suddenly, he spoke. “I remember every angle of your skirt lifting.” My face burned. I reached for the door handle, but Ethan tossed a thick document onto my lap. Agreement for Psychological Stress-Induced Physiological Rehabilitation Companionship. 42 pages. It detailed everything: appear within his visual range daily, wear “elegant yet alluring” attire, maintain eye contact for no less than 20 seconds, provide physical comfort if necessary to stabilize mood, guide physiological recovery… “You want me to be a fluffer?” I laughed angrily. “A companion,” Ethan corrected softly. “Don’t misunderstand.” He wrote a check. Ten million dollars. One month. Until his brother’s birthday. As long as I “appeared as I did today,” he guaranteed Sterling wouldn’t touch me. Of course, supplementary agreements could be signed if needed. It sounded even more perverse. My phone buzzed. It was my dad’s assistant: “Miss Harper, the company’s funding chain broke. We’re short eighty million. Your dad is threatening to jump off the roof.” I closed my eyes and whispered, “I’ll sign. But I want eighty million.” “Eighty million? Miss, did you read the part where he won’t touch you under the basic agreement?” “Doesn’t that depend on my skills?” I shot back. “A woman elegant, charming, and innocent enough to make your brother lose control with a single look.” “Deal. Not just companionship. If you cure his physiological disorder, you get eighty million.” Ethan smiled. “Until July 14th, you are my brother’s… exclusive gift.” 2 When I officially moved into the Vance estate, I realized it wasn’t a house. It was a fortress. Face ID entry, sensor elevators, private security guards… Sterling lived on the top floor of the main wing. The whole space was sealed off like a palace. As the “Special Companion,” I lived one floor below him. So close, yet worlds apart. The most absurd part was the man who showed up at my door, claiming to be my training coach. “Hello, darling~” The man wore a pink polka-dot shirt and oversized red sunglasses. “I’m Wyatt. I’m here to turn you into a weapon of mass seduction.” I stared at his flamboyance, speechless. “…” “Today we start with Lesson One: Sexy Body Language!” Wyatt clicked a laser pointer at a PowerPoint presentation. “Topic: How to give a man heart palpitations without triggering a sexual harassment lawsuit while walking.” “This… this is too much…” I wanted to quit. “Quit and pay the breach of contract fee. Eighty million,” Wyatt sang, holding up eight fingers. “Come on, put on this dress and walk ten meters.” He tossed me a cream-colored lace dress. It was even more revealing than the one Chloe gave me. I changed, my hands trembling. Wyatt shouted from the hall, “Don’t walk too steady! Be like a willow in the wind… like you just finished a tango and want to collapse but can’t. Rebellious but weak.” I took a deep breath and walked from the end of the corridor, pinching the hem of the dress. But my heel slipped on the polished floor, and I nearly wiped out. “Stop!” Wyatt lunged forward. “You look like a drunk toddler, not a seductress!” “You do it then!” I snapped. “I teach, I don’t test. If I were a woman, you wouldn’t have this job.” As we argued, a soft whirring sound came from the other end of the hall. Sterling’s wheelchair stopped silently at the top of the stairs. He was wearing a dark grey shirt today, buttoned all the way up. His face was pale and ascetic. He stared at me without speaking, but his knuckles were white as he gripped the armrests. I realized I was still wearing the “training dress.” My heart skipped a beat. “Walk again,” Sterling said suddenly, his voice raspy. I froze. “What?” “Those steps you just took.” His gaze locked onto my thigh, visible through the lace. “Do it again.” The air solidified for three seconds. Wyatt grabbed my arm and hissed in my ear, “Eighty million! Don’t forget the eighty million! Walk!” I gritted my teeth, went back to the end of the hall, turned, and walked toward him step by step. I looked up, trying to mimic the eye contact technique Wyatt taught me: Glance, look away, then look back with hesitation. Sterling watched me, his expression growing colder by the second. When I reached him, he suddenly said, “In the future, don’t look at me like that when you walk.” “You asked me to walk!” I laughed in disbelief. “Walking is allowed,” his eyes darkened. “Looking is not.” “What do you want from me?” I whispered. Sterling lowered his eyes, slowly turning his wheelchair around. His voice sounded like it was being dragged out of his chest. “People who play with fire… should be afraid of getting burned.” He left. His back was cold enough to freeze the air. Wyatt whispered in my ear, “Congrats. He’s showing symptoms.” “What symptoms?” “Physiological reaction!” He looked ready to dance. “Oh my god, I can see you counting cash in the Maldives already!” I rubbed my temples. “You certainly have sharp eyes.” I turned around and saw a glass of warm milk on the table. It was still steaming. I knew only Sterling had been there. 4 I didn’t tell anyone I dreamed about Sterling that night. In the dream, I was practicing the “seductive glance back” in the hallway. The lights were soft. I wore the cream lace dress, swaying towards him. When I looked back, I crashed right into his deep, dark eyes. He looked like he’d been electrocuted. His wheelchair slammed into the wall with a dull thud. I woke up covered in cold sweat, heart pounding. That morning, Wyatt took a leave of absence. I finally had a moment of peace to walk in the garden. The garden was the only place in the estate without cameras. I walked along the gravel path, silently rehearsing Wyatt’s instructions: Left foot light, right foot drags, show 30% ankle, don’t look back too fake… I muttered to myself, “I feel like a weirdo.” “You look like one, too.” A cool male voice cut in. I jumped, nearly tripping. Sterling had appeared out of nowhere. His wheelchair was parked by the colonnade. The wind ruffled his black clothes. He held a book but wasn’t reading. “Stalking me again?” I stepped back warily. “Your footsteps are too loud,” he said calmly. “I heard you.” “Seen enough?” “No.” He put the book down and slowly wheeled closer. “Continue.” My legs went weak. “I’m not acting anymore.” “You’re afraid of me?” He stopped, staring at me intently. “…No.” “Yes.” He seemed to read the twitch of my lips. “You’re afraid I’ll get close, and you’re afraid you’ll fall for me.” The words hit me like an arrow. “Are you crazy?” I blurted out. “Are you sick?” He didn’t get angry. He actually smiled faintly. “Indeed. My medical report says ‘Post-Traumatic Adaptation Disorder,’ with ‘deviated physiological response to stimuli’ in parentheses.” I opened my mouth but couldn’t speak. He suddenly reached out and tucked a stray hair behind my ear. The gesture was gentle, like a lover’s touch. “Do you know what you smell like right now?” he whispered. “W-what?” “A trapped animal.” He enunciated each word. “You look like a little pet that wants to run but doesn’t know where to go.” My face burned. Before I could retort, a voice interrupted. “Brother, breakfast is ready.” Ethan stood on the stone steps, smiling innocently. “Harper, come join us? The chef made pumpkin gratin, your favorite.” I let out a breath and practically ran toward him. But Ethan leaned in and whispered, “Don’t be fooled by my brother’s serious face. He wasn’t always like this.” “What do you mean?” “He used to love sketching figures.” Ethan winked. “Realism. The kind where you measure proportions with your eyes.” I was speechless. “After the accident, he stopped talking. The doctors say… he might have suppressed it for too long. Who knows why he only reacts to you.” “You mean I’m like a switch?” “Maybe,” he sighed. “I’m just worried about you. You don’t know his state. He’s… deep.” I looked down at my shoes, feeling heavy. Of course I didn’t know Sterling Vance. The man with eyes full of forbidden fire… I couldn’t read him, and I didn’t dare to try. “If you want to quit this game,” Ethan patted my shoulder, “I’ll help you.” I looked at him. He stood in the sun, his smile as clean as spring water. I turned back to the colonnade. Sterling was gone. The sunlight hit the tire tracks he left behind, looking like a path leading into an abyss.

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On New Year’s Eve, my fiancée’s ex posted a photo online showing her with wine spilled on her dress, along with the caption: “Her trembling was the prize of the night.” My hands shook as I called Elara. After a long silence, she answered, breathless. “Sean… I was drugged. Aiden helped me. But I’m still clean for you.” I tried to believe it was just a terrible accident. Three months later, at our wedding, Elara threw a positive pregnancy test at my feet. “It only happened once,” she said, “but you can still be this child’s father.” I laughed coldly. “Get rid of it, or get out of my life.” As I walked away, I took out my phone. “I accept the marriage proposal to Gudenrath Corp.” [1] The Gudenrath family moved with ruthless efficiency. Two hours later, Seraphina Gudenrath and I were officially married, her dowry a portfolio worth two hundred million dollars. She signed the papers and immediately flew to an international conference. I stood there, holding our marriage certificate, feeling dazed. Five years of my life, all for a betrayal so complete it felt like a dream. My phone buzzed relentlessly in my pocket. I sighed and finally answered. “Sean, aren’t you always the most understanding person? I’m having a baby. Shouldn’t you be happy?” “I swear to you, you will be the only father this child has.” Elara’s voice was urgent, but there was no trace of apology in it. “Right. I understand,” I replied, my voice flat. “Is there anything else?” There was a moment of silence on her end, and I could faintly hear the sound of a man’s suppressed sobs in the background. She must have realized my calm was unnatural. Her tone softened. “Why don’t you come home first?” “Aiden is emotionally unstable right now. He just keeps crying. I can’t just leave him.” “There’s no need,” I cut her off. Her voice instantly turned to ice. “Sean Croft! What is your problem?” “Aiden was kind enough to help me, and you publicly humiliated him! Isn’t that enough for you? What more do you want?” My heart clenched, a sharp, stabbing pain. I suppressed the turmoil rising in my chest and said, word by word, “Elara, we’re over.” The air seemed to freeze. Her breath hitched, and then she exploded. “Are you insane?” “I got pregnant, that’s all! It’s not like I’m refusing to marry you! Why are you being so aggressive?” I let out a self-deprecating laugh but didn’t answer. Her patience ran out. “Fine! Be that way!” she spat. “Don’t come crying back to me later!” The line went dead. [2] I didn’t go home. I drove to the old Morris estate. Even though Elara had been unfaithful, her parents had always been kind to me. It was only right to end things with them face-to-face. But as I pushed open the grand doors, the scene inside plunged me into an icy abyss. Elara was sitting with her parents, Aiden’s arm linked with hers. She carefully ladled soup for him, even bringing the spoon to his lips with a tenderness in her eyes I hadn’t seen in years. Her mother watched them with a pleased smile. “Look at you two,” she teased her husband. “About to be parents and still acting like newlyweds.” A perfect, happy family of four. I had once dreamed of a moment like that. In the past, when I would put food on her plate, she would smile sweetly and say, “Thank you, darling,” only to discard anything I had touched the moment I looked away. She was the cherished only daughter of the Morris family, an untouchable flower on a high peak. She even flinched away from my kisses. And now, she was pregnant with Aiden’s child, doting on him like a loving wife. Elara caught sight of me from the corner of her eye and sneered. “I knew it. Impossible to shake him off.” Her father cleared his throat, trying to smooth things over. “You’re here. Come, sit and eat. Elara’s pregnant. Don’t upset her.” I stared at them, numb. “No, thank you.” Aiden spoke to the maid with an air of familiarity. “Sean, you should have called ahead. The staff didn’t set an extra place for you.” His hair was perfectly styled, his clothes expensive. He looked nothing like the down-on-his-luck intern from three months ago. Clearly, life at the Morris estate suited him. I ignored him and handed the gift I’d brought to the butler. “Stop right there!” Elara slammed her hand on the table, her face dark with rage. “Didn’t you hear Aiden speaking to you? Don’t you even have the decency to say thank you? You have no manners at all!” I turned slowly, a cold smile spreading across my face. “Thank him for what?” “Thank him for knocking up my fiancée and making me a cuckold? Or should I flip this table and scream at him in front of your parents for being a shameless homewrecker?” Elara’s face flushed, and she covered her mouth, gagging. Aiden patted her back, his voice choked with emotion. “Elara, are you okay?” He turned to me, fat tears rolling down his cheeks. “Sean, it’s all my fault. Please don’t upset her anymore.” “I’m only staying here because I’m worried about the baby. I’ll leave as soon as it’s born, I swear! I won’t get in your way!” He then placed a hand on Elara’s stomach and began to sob. “Baby, I’m so sorry. Daddy loves you, and he doesn’t want to abandon you, but Daddy did a bad thing. Our family was never meant to be.” “As long as you and Mommy are happy, I’ll do anything.” With that, he collapsed, crying, into Elara’s arms. Her mother had seen enough. She threw down her chopsticks and pointed a trembling finger at me. “How dare you! It’s just a child! How can you be so petty? You are not fit to be a son-in-law to this family!” Any last shred of guilt Elara might have felt evaporated. She glared at me with pure hatred. “You ungrateful bastard!” I let out a cold laugh and turned to leave. My indifference seemed to enrage her further. With a wild scream, she grabbed the nearest bowl and hurled it at my head. A searing pain exploded in the back of my skull. Warm liquid trickled through my hair. My vision went black, and I collapsed. [3] My head was ringing, the sharp pain spreading like a tidal wave. I forced myself to my feet. Aiden rushed over, his voice dripping with false concern. “Sean, are you okay? My sister is pregnant, she’s so weak. How could you pretend to faint like that?” “Get away from me,” I said coldly, not even bothering to raise a hand to him. But he suddenly let out an exaggerated gasp and stumbled backward, crashing heavily into the coffee table. “Ah! Sean, I was just trying to help you…” he whimpered, his lower lip trembling as his eyes welled up. Elara panicked, rushing to his side. She turned on me, her eyes blazing. “Sean, are you insane? How dare you touch him!” Her parents looked on with disgust, as if I were something vile. “He fell on his own!” I choked out, the words catching in my throat. Elara’s eyes were merciless. She slapped me hard across the face. “Still lying! Get to the family chapel and kneel. Don’t even think about coming out until you’ve begged for forgiveness nine hundred times!” Before I could protest, two security guards stormed in, roughly bound my hands and feet, and dragged me away. I thrashed on the floor, screaming, “Let me go!” Her only reply was a cold command: “Reflect on what you’ve done!” The heavy doors slammed shut, plunging me into silence. I struggled desperately, the rough rope cutting into my wrists, my skin scraping raw against the stone floor. Finally, exhausted, I slumped onto the icy ground, a bitter sting in my nose. Through the door, I could hear their voices clearly. “Elara, isn’t this a little too harsh? He’s still your fiancé, after all.” “You’re too kind, Aiden. After how he treated you, you’re still defending him.” Elara’s voice was sharp with disdain. “If I don’t teach him a lesson and curb that temper of his, how is he supposed to take care of our child?” Aiden hesitated. “Sister, are you doing this because you don’t like him? Then why are you still marrying him?” Sudden silence. I held my breath, my heart pounding, desperate to hear her answer. If she hated me this much, why wouldn’t she let me go? After a moment, Elara let out a small laugh, her voice turning frigid. “It’s for the Croft family resources, of course. They’ve been very useful over the years.” “Marrying him is the only way to get full control of Croft Industries. Why else would I tie myself to such a useless piece of trash?” The truth was a razor-sharp knife, plunging straight into my heart. My blood ran cold. So that was it. She had never loved me. She only ever wanted my family’s name and power. In a daze, I remembered the car crash five years ago, when I had been severely injured while saving her. She had knelt by my hospital bed and sworn she would never marry anyone else. Even when the doctors told us I could no longer have children, she had just cried and said, “It doesn’t matter. Without children, I can love only you with my whole heart.” How pathetic. I had actually believed her clumsy lies. I had pulled every string I could, used every Croft connection to pave her way to success. And all along, she had been playing me for a fool. There is no greater sorrow than a dead heart. A despair colder than the stone floor settled over me, and I drifted into a fitful sleep. The chapel doors didn’t open until the next day. I was curled in a ball, my lips blue from the cold. Elara frowned at my pathetic state. “Useless waste. You kneel for one night and you look like this. How pathetic.” I slowly looked up, a grim smile on my face. “Sorry to disappoint you.” She looked away in disgust. “Aiden wants seafood congee. Go make it for him. And remember, no ginger. He doesn’t like it.” My nails dug into my palms, but I felt nothing. I forced the words through my teeth. “And what if I don’t?” [4] A dangerous glint appeared in Elara’s eyes. She suddenly kicked me hard in the chest. “Do you really think you’re the young master here? If it weren’t for Aiden, you would never have a child in your life! You should be on your knees thanking him, and you have the nerve to refuse to cook him a meal?” The feeling of bone cracking sent a wave of blackness over my vision. I coughed, spitting up a mouthful of blood. I wiped my mouth and slowly pushed myself up. “Elara, we’re done.” “You have no right to order me around.” A cold draft swept through the chapel. She stared at me for a second, then scoffed. “Are you trying to play hard to get? Don’t you find that disgusting?” Aiden appeared at her side, draping a coat over her shoulders. “Elara,” he whispered, “don’t get upset with him on my account. It’s not good for the baby. I just won’t eat. A lowly person like me doesn’t deserve to have Sean cook for him anyway.” He was wearing my silk pajamas, his chest covered in love bites. His eyes were full of triumphant provocation. But I no longer cared. “Move. You’re in my way,” I said, my voice distant. Elara suddenly grabbed my wrist, her nails digging into my skin and drawing blood. “You’re not going anywhere without my permission!” she shrieked. I yanked my arm free. “Ah!” The momentum sent her staggering backward, and she collapsed onto the floor. “You animal!” Her parents came running at the sound. Her mother cradled her pale-faced daughter while her father swung a fist at my face. I couldn’t dodge in time and took the full force of the blow. The taste of rust filled my mouth. Aiden wrapped his arms around Elara, his voice trembling. “It’s all my fault. If I weren’t here, you two wouldn’t be fighting.” He looked at me, his eyes brimming with tears. “Sean, if you’re angry, take it out on me. Please, just don’t hurt Elara and the baby…” Elara clutched her stomach, her eyes bloodshot. “Sean! Aiden went through so much to get me pregnant with this child! If anything happens to my baby, I’ll kill you!” Her father flew into an even greater rage. He grabbed me by the neck and slammed me onto the altar. The candlesticks toppled over, hot wax splashing across my back and instantly raising a swath of angry red welts. I arched my back, gagging, but only managed to spit up more blood. The marriage certificate slipped from my jacket pocket, its bright red cover a startling contrast against the grey stone floor. When she saw the names on it, Elara’s face changed, her arrogance vanishing. “You… to spite me, you actually married someone else?” she stammered in disbelief. I struggled to my feet, using the wall for support, and met her eyes again. “I gave you a choice.” In the dead silence of the room, Elara screamed, “That’s impossible! This has to be a fake! Who else would marry a defective man like you?” Just as the words left her mouth, a cool, clear female voice cut through the air. “I would.” Everyone turned. There, standing silhouetted against the light, was Seraphina Gudenrath, dressed in a stunning red gown.

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On the eve of the New Year, a firework dart, tipped with barbs, pierced my shoulder and lodged itself in my body. Before they could rush me into surgery, the doctor looked at the two men who had hurried in with me and asked for a family member to sign the consent forms. Both of them lunged for the pen, nearly coming to blows. One was my husband. The other was my brother. “I’ll sign,” my husband, Scott, said, “but only if you agree to a sham divorce first. Willow was terrified tonight. A divorce certificate will calm her down.” “Sign it or don’t. I’ll do it,” my brother, Chris, snapped back. “Fine,” Scott retorted, “but you have to promise that when Evelyn wakes up, she won’t press charges over the arrow. It was just a girl who couldn’t handle being yelled at. She didn’t mean to do it.” A weak, bitter laugh escaped my lips. With the last of my strength, I motioned the doctor closer. “Don’t save me.” Whether I lived or died… it didn’t matter anymore. … The argument in front of the emergency room doors raged on, but it wasn’t about who should sign as next of kin. It wasn’t about the fact that I was in critical condition and needed immediate surgery. Scott Vance and Chris Shay stood on either side of my gurney, each man blocking one of the wheels, preventing it from moving forward. We were inches from the operating room, but it might as well have been a world away. The arrow, armed with five barbed hooks at its tip, had entered through my right shoulder and traveled horizontally across my body. The tip was now resting perilously close to my heart on the left side. The doctor was sweating profusely, knowing better than anyone what every passing second meant for me. He tried to intervene, but a single glare from the two of them silenced him. This was the Vance family’s hospital, after all. No one would dare overstep. In his hand, Scott held a divorce agreement. In his, Chris held a legal waiver, a promise not to press charges. Each man was desperate to shove his pen into my still-conscious hand, competing to see who could get my signature first. They were eager to run back and report their success to the “traumatized” little girl, Willow. Staring at the two documents shoved in my face, I managed a breathless smile. I asked them a completely nonsensical question. “Tonight, you threw a party for Willow to celebrate 148 days since you met her. Why… why did it have to be today?” A day earlier, a day later—it would have been just another meaningless number to them. So why today? With the arrow still inside me, every word was an agony. But I was deceiving myself. One last gamble. Just one more. Maybe one of them would remember what today was. Scott remained silent. Chris’s fist tightened and relaxed at his side, his impatience a palpable force. “We just wanted to make Willow happy. It’s that simple. Can you stop wasting time? What’s the point of this?” The raucous laughter from that party, the blinding colored lights, the adoring smiles on my husband’s and my brother’s faces—that was the fuse that had lit my rage. I had crashed the party, shattering the joyful atmosphere. Everyone had called me a lunatic. Scott and Chris had shielded Willow behind them. “If you’re going to be crazy, go do it at home! Don’t embarrass us here!” I had looked only at Willow’s triumphant face. “You did this on purpose, didn’t you? You’re disgusting.” In front of the two men, her expression shifted seamlessly into one of profound sorrow. “Why… why does my sister have to say such cruel things to me? Is it so wrong to want to be with the people I love?” The two men she had just claimed as her own blushed. “I thought I finally had a family! Why does she still hate me so much? Why?” And then, under the guise of an emotional breakdown, she had fired the firework dart at me. Even as the arrow pierced my flesh, Scott had pinned my arms down, terrified I would lash out and hurt his precious darling. He had stared at me, his eyes filled with a deep, chilling disappointment. “Why?” he’d asked. “How did you become this person? You’re vile.” As they were loading me onto the stretcher, Willow had insisted on seeing me. She had leaned in close, her voice a triumphant whisper in my ear. “Sister, you know what today is, don’t you? I’m celebrating for you. It’s the one-year anniversary of your and Scott’s baby’s death. Too bad they don’t remember. Only I do. You should thank me, really.” Unable to lift my hands, I had lunged forward and bitten her ear. For that, Scott had nearly crushed my jaw. And now, it was the reason they both felt so justified in forcing these papers on me. I deserved this. It’s almost funny. Willow, my long-lost twin sister, had only recently been found. Snatched at birth by an enemy of the family, our parents had spent their lives searching for her. That unresolved grief had ultimately led to their early deaths. On their deathbeds, they had made my brother and me swear an oath. If we ever found her, we would spend our lives making it up to her. And I had intended to. When we found Willow, I believed she had suffered too much. I was ready to give her everything. But from the moment she saw me, she was hostile. At first, Scott noticed it. Whenever I tried to bring him to my family home, he would resist, needing to be coaxed and placated. When he saw Willow, he wouldn’t even spare her a glance. “Babe,” he’d say, “I’m not going to be nice to someone who isn’t nice to my girl.” Chris was always caught in the middle, awkwardly trying to smooth things over. But somewhere along the line, it had changed. “Evelyn,” Scott had said one day, “Chris and I are taking Willow to Disneyland for a few days. You’ve been so many times, why don’t you just stay home? You know how sensitive she is. She thinks you don’t like her. Maybe you’ve been too harsh. She won’t have any fun if you’re there. Chris feels the same way, he was just afraid you’d be upset, so he asked me to tell you.” Then later: “I don’t understand you. This should be a happy thing, having your sister back, but you act like you wish she’d never been found. If Willow hadn’t told me, I would never have known you were bullying her in private, telling her to go back where she came from. I’m leaving. You need to think about what you’ve done.” He had left, his eyes filled with disappointment. I had held my tongue. I didn’t demand a confrontation, didn’t ask when, exactly, I had ever bullied her. Let it go, I told myself. Don’t ruin the mood. Just endure it. I remembered the oath my parents had made me take alone. Your sister has suffered. You’ve had twenty more years of happiness than she has. You have to be good to her. Otherwise, we’ll never forgive you, even in heaven. So I let her have her way. Until the day I found her in bed with Scott. The blood rushed to my head, and the world spun. I was blind with rage. I slapped her. In return, I received a slap from Scott, and another from Chris, who had rushed in after me. Chris was furious. “Willow told me you were tormenting her behind my back, forbidding her from getting close to me. I didn’t believe her. I guess you’re finally showing your true colors. She suffered for over twenty years, and when she finally comes home, she has to deal with a sister like you. Evelyn, do you think Mom and Dad are proud of you right now? If I could choose, I’d wish it was you who was taken all those years ago!” I stood frozen, tears streaming down my face. Scott held Willow, comforting her gently. He glanced at my tears, his expression cold. “Stop crying. Willow isn’t crying, so why should you? It’s not surprising that I fell for her. She’s a wonderful person. What you and I had was just a product of growing up together, an illusion. If you were the one who was taken and then returned, I would never have fallen for someone so vile. So don’t blame Willow. It’s not her fault. I should be grateful I’ve finally seen who you really are.” Looking at the victorious glint in Willow’s eyes, I suddenly understood. She didn’t love Scott or Chris. She just hated me. She hated that she was the one who was taken, that I had enjoyed a life of privilege she was denied. My pain was her pleasure. And the guilt the world felt for her was her ultimate weapon. I didn’t even have the right to fight back. And so, on that day, I lost my husband and my brother. If it weren’t for tonight, I probably would never have seen them fight over me again. Once, they fought over who got to spend time with me. Now, they fought over which paper I should sign first so they could run back and comfort Willow. At that moment, both of their phones rang simultaneously. “Scott… Chris…” It was Willow, her voice choked with tears. “I’m so scared. The blood… it got all over me, and I can’t wash it off…” “When they were putting my sister on the stretcher, I wanted to come with you, but… but she said that as soon as she’s okay, she’s going to kill me. What do I do? I really didn’t mean it. I’m so worried about her…” She sobbed and whimpered, then forced a brave tone for the two men on the other end, who were no doubt dying to fly back to her side. “Sometimes I think my sister is so lucky. She has both of you caring about her so much. I have nothing. And any little thing I do get, she forces me to give it back.” “It’s okay, you don’t have to rush back. I’ll be fine on my own…” “I’m going to go find a hundred of those firework darts, the kind I accidentally hurt her with. She said when she gets better, she wants to shoot all of them at me. As long as it makes her feel better, I’ll do anything.” By the time the call ended, Scott’s and Chris’s faces were black with rage. Chris was the first to snap. He suddenly lunged forward and wrapped his hands around my neck. “Why? Why are you like this?” he hissed, his face contorted. “Why can’t you just accept her? It was an accident! A hundred arrows? Are you trying to kill her? Evelyn, how could you be my sister? How could our family produce someone so rotten?!” The pressure was immense. His movement jostled the arrow inside me. The barbs and hooks twisted in my flesh. It probably wasn’t a normal firework dart at all. I choked, spitting up blood. Scott finally intervened, grabbing Chris’s arm. “Calm down. Are you trying to kill her?” My heart, already turned to ash, flickered with a faint, secret hope. Maybe… maybe he couldn’t bear to see me die. “If you kill her now, who’s going to sign the papers?” Scott continued, his voice cold. “Are you going to forget about comforting Willow? If Evelyn dies now, Willow will blame herself for the rest of her life. Do you want her to live with that shadow forever?” Once Chris was pacified, Scott finally spared me a glance. I was still coughing up blood, the crimson staining half my face. The gurgling in my throat made it impossible to breathe without triggering another agonizing movement of the arrow. He frowned, his tone chilling. “That’s enough. Stop the act. Do you have a blood pack hidden in your mouth? I was with Willow when she chose those fireworks. They’re soft and thin. She’s a kind girl; she specifically had them custom-made so they wouldn’t hurt anyone. The impact must have just pushed it into your shoulder. It’s a flesh wound, nothing more. There’s no need to be so dramatic. Chris and I aren’t idiots.” I froze, even forgetting to cough. He mistook my shock for being caught in a lie. He sighed. For the first time since I’d caught him with Willow, he spoke to me in a gentle, coaxing tone. “Alright, this is just a temporary divorce to appease Willow. Sign the papers, and after you do, Chris and I promise we’ll take you to Sunhaven for a few days, just like you wanted.” With a nod from Scott, Chris reluctantly agreed. When I finally spoke, my voice was a raw, rasping sound, filled with utter despair. “You think… you think we were going to Sunhaven… for a vacation?” I thought if they remembered Sunhaven, they would remember why I had been begging them to go with me. They would remember why the sight of their smiling faces at that party had made me snap. Our daughter, Rosie, had been born frail and sickly. She couldn’t tolerate the cold. Sunhaven was warm year-round. In the three years of her life, we had spent more than half our time there. In the end, she hadn’t made it. She had left us, and I had cried until I fainted, over and over again. We decided to bury her in Sunhaven. At her grave, both Scott and Chris had wept and sworn they would come back every year on the anniversary of her death to be with her. 148 days. A laughable 148 days. And on the first anniversary of her death, they had forgotten everything. When a heart dies, there’s nothing left to say, nothing left to ask. I let out a long breath. I didn’t want to see them anymore. Let them leave. Words were useless now. I slowly raised my hand. “I’ll sign both.” Chris, barely concealing his excitement, shoved the pen into my hand. My left hand was the only part of me with any feeling left, and I signed slowly. But just as I was about to complete the last stroke of my name, I felt the barbs inside me begin to spin violently. The pen clattered to the floor. The pain was so intense that my body began to convulse. A spray of blood erupted from my mouth, covering both agreements, obscuring the text completely. Scott and Chris stared, stunned. Chris was the first to react. “Damn it! You did that on purpose, didn’t you? You ruined the papers just to spite us!” He raised his hand to strike me again. Just then, his phone rang. It was Willow. “Scott! Chris! Help me! A group of men… they have me cornered in an alley! They said… they said my sister sent them to teach me a lesson…” Panic seized them both. Even Scott, who had maintained a sliver of composure, let out a curse and kicked my gurney over. “So this was your plan all along! Wasting time so they could get to her!” “Evelyn Shay, if anything happens to Willow, I will make you pay with your life!” He turned to the hospital staff. “Tell everyone, let her lie here and play her games. She likes bleeding, right? For every cut anyone makes on her, I’ll pay a million dollars. But if anyone dares to treat her or bandage her wounds, they’ll have to answer to both the Vance and the Shay families!”

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