Category: English

The night before our engagement party, my fiancé came home not with my gown, but with a plain, simple dress. “Wear this instead,” he said. I took it and put it away. A moment later, I was scrolling through his childhood friend’s social media. She had posted a photo of herself in the very gown that had been replaced, along with a caption: “All I did was look at it once, and he gave it to me. Someone’s a little too in love with me~” “And tomorrow, he’s insisting on coming to my dog’s birthday party. Said anything unimportant can just be postponed.” Right on cue, a message from my fiancé popped up on my phone: “Something came up at work. We’ll have to postpone the engagement party.” I gripped my phone, my voice cold as I typed back a reply. But it wouldn’t be a postponement. It would be a cancellation. … As Benjamin was about to leave, I was in the middle of packing, carefully ironing each of my clothes before placing them in my suitcase. He didn’t notice what I was doing, just breezily informed me, “There’s a last-minute meeting at the office today. We’ll have to push the engagement party back a day. Be reasonable and don’t make this difficult for me.” I continued packing in silence, not offering a reply. Benjamin faltered, the rest of his explanation catching in his throat. He expected me to do what I always did: complain that he never considered my feelings when he got wrapped up in work, but then quietly iron his suit and see him to the door. I used to think that’s how it would always be. Until I saw that gown on his childhood friend, Maya’s, social media feed. The gown that was supposed to be my engagement gown. Yesterday, I had spent hours carefully pressing it, arranging it on a mannequin, my heart filled with dreams of wearing it at our party. But I stepped out for a bit, and when I returned, the gown was gone. A flicker of hope ignited within me. The gown we had rented wasn’t my absolute favorite, just the most cost-effective. Benjamin knew which one I truly loved. I thought he had impulsively decided to surprise me. I cooked a feast, even opened a bottle of red wine, and waited for him. But all he brought back was a plain, simple dress. “Wear this instead.” When I asked him why, he just frowned with a hint of impatience. “I like this one better. Besides, that other gown is too flashy. It doesn’t suit your style. You look better in this.” But now, that gown, the one deemed too flashy for me, was shimmering beautifully on Maya. And the simple dress in my hands was just like his perception of me. Plain. Ordinary. Unremarkable. No matter how well I presented myself, I could never compete with a diamond-studded, exquisitely tailored masterpiece. So this was our respective value in his heart. Maya’s post had more: “All I did was look at it once, and he gave it to me. Someone’s a little too in love with me~ ;)” “And tomorrow, he’s insisting on coming to my dog’s birthday party. Said anything unimportant can just be postponed.” A knot of fury and disbelief tightened in my chest. I refused to believe Benjamin could belittle our relationship, belittle me, so completely. But reality delivered a sharp, stinging slap. Benjamin walked over to me and finally registered what I was doing. He spoke, not with concern, but with a note of reprimand. “Why are you only ironing your own clothes? What am I supposed to wear?” “Never mind, I’ll just grab something. Just remember to do mine first next time.” As he reached the door, he finally took in the full scene. “What are you doing, packing a suitcase? Are you really this mad just because I have to work late?” I couldn’t hold it in any longer. I pulled out my phone and showed him the picture of Maya in the gown. “Maya, she…” But he cut me off the second he heard her name, his voice laced with annoyance. He didn’t even spare the photo a glance as he turned to leave. “I’m really just going to work. Why are you bringing Maya into this? Do you have to make a scene?” “After all these years, can’t you learn to be even half as understanding as she is?” The door slammed shut with a deafening bang. Just like our seven-year relationship, it ended abruptly. I stopped the recording on my phone. Then, I notified both of our families. I created a group chat and sent them the screenshot of Maya’s post and the audio of Benjamin’s parting words. I laid out the entire story, clear and concise. Benjamin had wronged me. We were done. The engagement was off. I wouldn’t suffer in silence. After I finished packing, my phone rang. It was my university professor. “Cynthia, are you really sure about studying abroad?” he asked. “I highly recommend the program, but you’ve turned it down so many times for Benjamin. I’m a little worried.” I managed a small laugh. “Don’t worry, professor. This time, I’ve made up my mind.” I’m a psychology major, and the university was offering a rare opportunity for an international research internship. My professor had urged me to apply several times, seeing it as a golden chance to advance my skills. I desperately wanted to go. It meant exposure to cutting-edge research and a much broader career path. The only thing holding me back was Benjamin. Benjamin suffered from severe separation anxiety. His parents were busy entrepreneurs who had shuttled him between relatives since he was a child. He was passed around like a parcel, from one resentful household to another. The experience had left deep psychological scars, making it nearly impossible for him to form stable relationships. By the time he transferred to my high school, it was his forty-second school. The loneliest time for him was always free period during gym class. Everyone else would be in pairs or groups, playing games or chatting. Benjamin would just sit in the shadows, watching them with envy. Seeing his guarded, longing eyes and remembering the rumors about his past, I felt a pang of kinship. His desolate expression mirrored a part of my own history. My heart softened. I walked over to him. “I’m stuck on a problem,” I said, steering him toward the classroom. “I hear you’re really smart. Could you help me with it?” He looked startled, but quickly got up and followed. From then on, we spent every gym class in the classroom, studying together. Gradually, the tension in his face eased, replaced by smiles. When it was time to reassign seats, I requested to be his desk partner. I started using the psychology I was teaching myself to help him. Our classmates whispered around us. “The drama queen and the ice princess are sitting together!” “One has no friends, the other wants no friends. They’re a perfect match.” One day, as I walked into class, a boy from the back row let out a long wolf-whistle. “Hey, Ice Princess, why are you so nice to him? Is he your boyfriend, or your lab rat?” “They say people who study psychology are messed up themselves. So, what’s your damage?” Before I could react, Benjamin launched himself from behind me. He, who had always tried so hard to get along with everyone, was in his first-ever fight. He beat those boys bloody, and ended up hospitalized for a month himself. We were inseparable after that. I remember the first time I mentioned the internship abroad. He couldn’t sleep for days. I’d wake up in the middle of the night to find him just watching me, his eyes bloodshot. “Cynthia, are you leaving me too? Will I be all alone again?” My resolve melted. I never brought it up again. But this time, I was the one being left behind. My phone buzzed. A message from my professor: The heart finds its vastness in distant horizons; the steps find their newness with the passing of time. Cynthia, everything is a part of growth. I’ve submitted your application. Prepare well. I believe in you. I smiled and replied with a simple, “Okay.” I had just stepped out of the apartment when Benjamin’s call came through. He was furious. “Cynthia! What the hell did you just tell everyone?” “Do you have any idea they’re all attacking Maya now? You need to go and clear this up right now and then publicly apologize to her!” My voice was ice. “Apologize for what? The fact that you two are having an affair isn’t exactly a secret, is it? You postponed our engagement to go to her dog’s birthday party and gave her my gown to wear.” “Even the dumbest asshole in a bad novel isn’t as stupid as you. When your mother gave birth, did she throw you out and raise the placenta instead?” “Cynthia!” Benjamin roared, his anger palpable. “Don’t you go too far! Maya just really liked the gown and wanted to try it on, that’s all.” “I never realized you were so petty. Are you really going to be jealous of a young girl?” Maya’s tearful sobs echoed through the phone. “It’s okay, Benjamin. Didn’t Cynthia have… psychological problems before? I should be more understanding. It’s all my fault. Don’t get upset with a… a mentally ill person.” My blood ran cold. It felt as if an invisible hand had clenched around my heart, squeezing so tightly I could barely breathe. It was my deepest, darkest secret. I felt he was the kindest person in the world. But as I grew older and started elementary school, I began to understand what his actions truly meant. So the next time he tried to get into my bed, I fought back with a knife. He was severely injured. In the end, it was ruled self-defense, and I was acquitted. But the memory of that old man’s hideous face was seared into my mind. For more than a decade afterward, the sight of any stranger would send my heart racing. I craved warmth but couldn’t escape that vicious cycle, and my mental state deteriorated. That’s why, when I saw the isolated, helpless Benjamin, I wanted to help him. But I never imagined that my most painful secret had become gossip he used to entertain his little friend. Panic seized me again. My first instinct was to run, to escape. The voice on the other end of the line faltered. I heard Benjamin’s panicked, scolding tone. “Why did you say that? I told you never to bring that up!” “Cynthia, she didn’t mean it like that…” I didn’t wait for him to finish. My hands were stiff as I hung up the phone. I grabbed my luggage and immediately checked into a hotel. I didn’t want to see either of them again. But the next morning, I found Benjamin waiting for me downstairs. He was holding a gift box, standing in the early autumn mist, looking at me with a cautious expression. “Cynthia, are you still mad?” “Maya’s been spoiled since she was a kid. She’s always been blunt, but she doesn’t have a bad bone in her body. Don’t hold it against her. If it bothers you, I’ll keep my distance from her from now on.” I frowned. “How did you know where I was?” “My family owns this hotel. I got a notification the moment you checked in.” Benjamin looked away, a guilty expression on his face, and pushed the gift box into my hands. “I rented a new gown for you. Don’t worry, it’s not the old one. It’s the style you like the most. Try it on, and if it fits, we can have the engagement party tomorrow, okay?” I laughed. So he was capable of remembering my favorite style. So he was capable of doing more than just fobbing me off with a plain dress. He had done it before simply because he thought I wasn’t worthy. Seeing my smile, Benjamin assumed everything was fine. He cheerfully pulled out a container of breakfast from his coat and handed it to me as if bestowing a great favor. “Cynthia, I made this myself. It used to be your favorite, remember? Eat up and stop making a fuss.” For a moment, I was transported back in time.

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The day of my wedding to Julian Astor, his adopted sister decided to throw herself from a rooftop. For her, Julian left me standing at the altar in my wedding dress, fleeing without a second thought. Facing a hall full of mocking eyes, I made a public proposal. “Whoever walks up this aisle and marries me today, I will be your wife!” Three years later, Julian returned to the Astor estate with his precious adopted sister in tow. I was lounging on a leather sofa, sipping bird’s nest soup and watching a TV drama. Julian’s eyes locked onto my swollen belly, and he gritted his teeth. “Whose bastard are you carrying?” I took another delicate sip of my soup and smiled sweetly. “The baby in my belly is an Astor, of course.” … Julian stormed over, his face a mask of fury, and yanked me from the sofa. “You bitch! I left with Iris on our wedding day. I haven’t been back in three years. How could you possibly be carrying my child?” I found it amusing. I never said it was his. He wasn’t the only man in the Astor family. “Of course, the child in my belly isn’t yours,” I said coolly. “You’re not worthy of being my child’s father.” Iris’s face was a picture of shock. “Eliza, even though Julian left you at the altar, he let you keep the title of Mrs. Astor. He let you enjoy the wealth and luxury of this family. How could you be so shameless as to get pregnant with a bastard?” My gaze flickered to her. “Iris, you’re the adopted daughter of the Astor family, yet you openly seduce your own brother. When it comes to shamelessness, who could possibly compete with you two?” Iris immediately turned to Julian, her voice thick with hurt. “Julian, for the past three years, we’ve been so careful, our relationship so pure. But she… she’s already carrying a bastard. She’s cheated on you.” The word “cheated” sent Julian into a rage. He raised his hand and slapped me hard across the face. “You bitch! You get pregnant with some bastard and dare to throw dirt on me and Iris? Get out of this house!” Pain exploded in my cheek, my head ringing from the blow. Three years ago, when Julian ran off with Iris, leaving me to be ridiculed at my own wedding, I made a desperate choice. In a fit of anger, I offered myself to any man who would marry me on the spot. It was Julian’s uncle, Vincent Astor, who walked up that aisle. In this city, Vincent was known as the “Ice King,” a man feared and respected by all. Since marrying him, everyone I met treated me with fawning respect. After I became pregnant, Vincent doted on me, treating me as if I were made of glass. He wouldn’t let a single hair on my head be harmed. For Julian to dare to lay a hand on me today… if Vincent found out, there would be blood. To prevent a family tragedy, and as a prayer for my unborn child, I said coldly, “If you two get out right now, I’ll pretend this never happened.” But they were having none of it. Iris grabbed a fistful of my hair. “Julian, she’s just bluffing! She wants to kick us out so she can use that bastard in her belly to take over the Astor fortune.” Julian snarled, “You bitch, so that was your plan. I won’t let you succeed.” I twisted free from Iris’s grip, my face hard. “The day you two ran away, Grandfather Astor removed you from the family registry. The Astor fortune has nothing to do with you anymore.” Iris laughed. “That was just something the old man said in a fit of anger. Julian is the only grandson. He would never truly disown him.” Julian looked smug. “Grandfather has always said that everything the Astors own will be mine.” I cradled my belly, my voice like steel. “Not anymore. The child in my belly is also an Astor heir.” I thought I had made myself clear enough. But Julian only glared at me with renewed fury. “You bitch, so you really are trying to pass off a bastard as an Astor heir. I’m going to teach you a lesson today!” He slapped me again, harder this time. I clutched my stomach as I fell to the floor. Seeing the feral look on their faces, a wave of fear washed over me. I was terrified they would hurt my baby. “The child isn’t a bastard,” I cried out. “He’s…” Before I could finish, Julian knelt down, scooped up the spilled bird’s nest soup, and shoved it, along with the shattered porcelain shards, into my mouth. “For three years, Iris and I have been roughing it, while you’ve been living in luxury, cheating and swindling this family with that bastard in your belly!” “Today, I’m going to let you have your fill!” I choked, unable to speak. The sharp fragments cut my mouth, and blood filled my throat. I tried to push him away, but Iris’s stiletto heel ground into the back of my hand. The pain was excruciating, but I couldn’t even scream. After forcing all the soup into my mouth, Julian spat on me, then stood up, dusting off his hands. Iris moved her sharp-heeled shoe until it hovered over my swollen abdomen. Panic seized me. I grabbed her ankle with both hands, desperate to stop her from pressing down. Vincent was sterile. This child was a miracle, the result of three years of seeing specialists all over the world. A mocking smile played on Iris’s lips. “Eliza, you look like a bitch protecting her pup right now. It’s pathetic.” Julian frowned at my belly. “If word gets out that I was cheated on, how can I ever show my face in this city again? Iris, crush the bastard in her womb!” I shook my head wildly, spitting out a mouthful of soup and blood. “The baby… the baby is… Vincent’s…” I gasped. Julian froze, then burst into manic laughter. “Eliza, you don’t even bother to craft a good lie! Everyone in this city knows my uncle has no interest in women. He’s sterile.” “Right now, I am the only one who can continue the Astor line. Why else do you think my grandfather was in such a hurry for me to marry you and produce an heir?” Iris chimed in, “Julian is the sole heir. Grandfather even cut off his cards to force him to come back and take over the family business.” “You pathetic bitch,” she sneered. “Caught in your lie, and you dare to try and pin this on his uncle?” Julian and Iris had been gone for three years without a single call home. Grandfather Astor was truly disappointed in him and had cut him off, intending to sever all ties. But seeing how irrational they were now, I knew better than to argue. “I’m not lying,” I pleaded again. “The baby is really Vincent’s. If you don’t believe me, I can call him and you can ask him yourself.” I reached for my phone on the table, one hand still protecting my belly. If I could just contact Vincent, he would come for me. He would save us. But as soon as my fingers touched the phone, Julian snatched it and smashed it on the floor. The screen shattered. My heart sank. He grabbed my chin. “My uncle is a volatile man. He’s the Ice King everyone in this city fears. If he finds out I can’t even handle a small matter like my own wife cheating on me, he’ll think I’m useless. He won’t give me the company.” “Is that why you wanted to call him, Eliza?” I shook my head frantically. “No, I’m carrying…” Before I could finish, Iris’s heel pressed down hard on my stomach. “Julian, why are you wasting your breath on this slut? Let’s just get rid of the bastard and go to Grandfather for our reward.” A violent pain ripped through my abdomen. I could feel the baby thrashing inside me, a desperate, frantic movement. A terror I had never known flooded me. “Please,” I begged them, “let my baby go…” Iris pulled out her phone and pointed it at me. “Get on your knees and bark like a dog. Say you’re a filthy slut, and I’ll spare your bastard.” For my child, I cast aside all pride. I crawled to my knees. “Woof, woof,” I whimpered, my voice trembling. “I’m a filthy slut.” Iris leaned down, a triumphant smirk on her face. “Eliza, when I knelt before you and begged you not to marry Julian, did you ever imagine this day would come?” Back then, Iris had come to me, telling me she and Julian were in love, begging me to call off the wedding. The marriage between the Astor and Shen families was a union decided by our parents, a web of business alliances. If I had broken the engagement, the blame and the fallout would have been on my family. I had refused. I never thought she would hold that grudge until today. I had no energy to rehash the past. “Please,” I begged, “call an ambulance.” Julian kicked me hard in the back. “You really are a bitch, Eliza! You’d do anything for that bastard!” I fell forward, my belly slamming against the hard floor. A fire spread across my abdomen. “You said… you said you’d spare my child…” Iris’s tone was dismissive. “I said I would spare your child. Julian didn’t say anything.” “You bitch, you used a bastard to impersonate me and swindle the Astor family. You think I’d let you get away with it? Not a chance!” Julian kicked me again, this time directly in the stomach. A sharp cramp seized me, and a gush of red blood flowed from between my legs. I felt the frantic movements in my womb slow, then stop. Despair washed over me. I looked at them, my eyes filled with a searing hatred. “Julian Astor, Iris Thorne, you will regret this!” Iris stood beside him, her gaze venomous. “Julian, this bitch still hasn’t learned her lesson. It seems she needs more convincing.” Julian sneered. “Let’s see who makes who regret what. Iris, get a rope.” Iris immediately understood. She found a rope in the living room and walked towards me. I scrambled backward, dragging my bleeding body across the floor. “What are you doing?” I cried, my eyes wide with terror. Their excited faces were my only answer. They tied my hands and feet together, then dragged me out of the house, leaving a long, bloody smear on the floor. They pulled me to the edge of the swimming pool. Julian kicked me in, and with my limbs bound, I sank helplessly to the bottom. The water filled my nose and mouth. The agony of suffocation washed over me. Just as I thought I was about to die, Julian pulled on the rope, yanking me from the water. “Eliza, have you learned your lesson? Will you dare to cheat on me again?” I gasped for air, a new wave of pain seizing my abdomen. I had taken prenatal classes with Vincent. I knew what this was. I was going into premature labor. Even though I knew the chances of my baby surviving were slim, I couldn’t give up. “I was wrong,” I pleaded. “I’ll never do it again. Please, spare me and my child. I’m in labor, please, call an ambulance…” Julian spat at me. “You bitch, still thinking about that bastard. I see you have no remorse at all!” “There is no way I’m letting that bastard leave this house alive today!” He raised his foot to kick me back into the pool. I closed my eyes in despair, bracing for the water, for the end.

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I was the childhood friend. Wendy was the girl who fell from the sky. They say the girl next door never stands a chance against the one who appears out of nowhere. Not long after she transferred, someone saw them in the empty stairwell after school. My wild, untamable Bill, head bowed like a scolded puppy, was meekly apologizing to her. Later, after a small falling out between Wendy and me, he delivered the final blow with a single, careless sentence: “I don’t want to see Tessa Shaw at school anymore.” My parents, terrified of jeopardizing their ties to the Vances, immediately had me transferred. From that day on, I vanished from his world, not daring to even show my face where he might see it. But then, on his birthday, he showed up at my door, drenched and miserable, his face a mask of desperation and hurt. “You forgot it was my birthday, didn’t you?” 1 They say the girl next door never stands a chance against the one who appears out of nowhere. I used to scoff at that. But now, sitting in the school auditorium, watching Bill gaze at Wendy as she danced on stage, the undisguised adoration in his eyes told a different story. In that moment, I believed it. I also believed the rumors I’d heard—about Bill Vance, the boy who defied the world, surrendering to Wendy in that deserted stairwell. The confession I had been holding in my heart, waiting for the right moment to share, would now have to be buried forever. When the music ended, I joined the applause for the radiant girl on stage. Bill shot up from his seat, probably on his way to find her. I got up too and slipped out of the auditorium. Outside, I lifted my hand, a small, gourd-shaped wooden charm dangling from a string on my wrist, twisting in the evening breeze. “Tessa… for you.” I remember staring at it, confused. “What is it?” A seven-year-old Bill, having learned the term “token of love” from some soap opera his aunt was watching, had pressed it into my hand. “It’s for you, Tessa. So you’ll only ever like me.” “And I’ll protect you forever.” A bitter sting pricked my eyes. I unhooked the charm from my wrist and clenched it in my fist. A child’s promise, so easily broken. But I had believed it. Bill Vance, the untamable rebel, had been the secret joy of my entire youth. … Wendy Summers had transferred this semester. She was beautiful, a talented dancer, and her arrival caused an immediate stir. The girls in my class used to whisper that Wendy was like the protagonist of a teen novel—the sweet new girl who captures the heart of the school’s resident bad boy. The story always ends the same: the bad boy changes for the good girl. Plenty of guys were chasing after Wendy back then, and someone even joked that all she needed now was for Bill to fall for her too. Bill, who had been lounging lazily at his desk, just stretched and shot the speaker a dismissive look. “Her? Is she even worthy?” See? Such arrogance back then. I hadn’t believed the rumors that they were together. I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes or heard it from his own lips. I needed him to tell me he was with someone else. But now, I knew. It was time to pull back, to finally put some distance between us. I used to walk home with Bill every day. I can’t remember when it started, but he began making excuses, telling me to go on ahead. He could have just told me the truth. I wouldn’t have clung to him. After all, we were never really together in the first place. 2 On Sunday, we returned to school for the evening study hall, and homework was due. Bill was a notorious troublemaker. When the class representative came to collect his work, he’d just grunt, “Didn’t do it.” He used to listen to me, and everyone knew it. So whenever he pulled this stunt, they’d come and tattle to me. Tonight was no different, except they couldn’t find Bill anywhere. He had bolted the second class ended, no doubt to find Wendy. “Tessa, Bill didn’t do his homework again, and no one knows where he is. Could you…” “Just give the list of names to the teacher,” I said, shaking my head with a faint smile. “And from now on, you don’t need to tell me when he hasn’t done his work.” Hearing this, my classmates could only nod. The rumors about him having a girlfriend were starting to feel very real, and my attitude all but confirmed it. When the next class began, I buried my head in my exam papers. Before Wendy, my dream was for Bill and me to get into Brierfield University together. Now, my dream was just to get into Brierfield University. For myself. Bill didn’t return for the entire study hall. The teacher at the front of the room frowned, asking where he was. Every eye in the classroom turned to me, but I never once looked up. He finally reappeared during the second period. He slumped into his seat without a word. It wasn’t until a classmate told him the head teacher wanted to see him in the office that he snapped out of his daze. As he passed my desk, he paused for a fraction of a second. I didn’t look up. I was wrestling with the final, killer question on the math paper, the one where I could always solve the first part but my brain would seize up on the second. After I finally worked it out, my deskmate leaned in, whispering cautiously, “What’s going on with you and Bill?” “Nothing,” I replied. “Really? But you used to get more worked up than anyone when he skipped class or blew off his homework.” Her face was a mask of disbelief. I paused, then told her, “That was the past. I’m done looking out for him.” “Oh,” she gasped, covering her mouth. “So it’s true… he’s really dating Wendy Summers?” I lowered my eyes and said nothing. The bell for the end of the second study hall rang, and a few moments later, Bill sauntered back into the classroom. A small, folded note landed on my desk. “Go home without me after school.” I read it, my expression neutral, then tucked it away and went back to my work. The classroom was a chaotic mess of noise and motion as everyone packed up to leave. I sat at my desk, slowly gathering my things. Suddenly, a hush fell over the room. My deskmate let out a small gasp, and I followed her gaze. Wendy was standing in the doorway. She tilted her head, gave Bill a playful crook of her finger, and then turned and walked away. My eyes, against my will, darted to Bill. A helpless smile played on his lips as he got up and followed her out. The classroom erupted. “Holy crap, it’s actually true.” “I used to think Bill and Tessa were the perfect pair, you know? The bad boy and the straight-A good girl. But the bad boy and the ballerina… that just hits different.” “Don’t be such a gossip. Still… don’t you feel a little bad for Tessa?” “They’ve known each other since they were kids.” “Guess it’s true. The girl next door never stands a chance.” … My deskmate bit her lip, looking like she wanted to comfort me. I slung my backpack over my shoulder. My heart felt like it was being ripped apart, but I forced a smile. I couldn’t let a single tear fall. If anyone saw how upset I was, I’d be the laughingstock of the school by tomorrow. “I’m fine. Bill and I were always just friends,” I said. “I’m heading out. See you tomorrow.” Worry still lingered in her eyes as she waved. “See you. Get home safe.” Once I was out of the noisy schoolyard, I gripped the straps of my backpack, my jaw clenched tight. But the tears came anyway, hot and unstoppable. A suffocating pain filled my chest. How could he fall for someone else, just like that? My vision blurred, and a boy’s voice, clear and full of arrogant pride, echoed in my ears. “Bill Vance can do anything, and Tessa Shaw is the girl I’ll protect for life.” 3 “Tessa, why didn’t you wait for me this morning?” Bill was late for school. After class, he strode over to my desk, his voice laced with a playful grievance, and set a carton of milk down in front of me. My hand, busy scribbling vocabulary words, froze. I glanced at the milk out of the corner of my eye. “I already ate. And I won’t be walking with you in the mornings anymore. I’m coming to school earlier now.” Bill slumped into the empty seat beside me, clearly confused. He propped his head on his hand. “I haven’t done anything to piss you off lately, have I? We’ve always walked together.” “Things are different now,” I said, putting my pen down. I took a deep breath and forced a smile. “You have a girlfriend. We should keep our distance.” His expression faltered for a moment before understanding dawned. “She won’t mind. She knows that…” “I mind.” My voice was quiet but firm. “I don’t want to be the one they point fingers at if something goes wrong between you two.” “Tessa…” Bill’s temper was notoriously short. The fact that he’d even entertained this conversation was a miracle. His patience, always thin, had finally snapped. His face hardened. He shot to his feet, the legs of his chair screeching against the floor. “Fine. Whatever you want.” I lowered my head, my eyes closing in silent resignation. I had spent all of last night on my balcony, the wind chilling me to the bone, wondering what to do. Should I keep playing the fool, hiding my feelings and staying by his side? Or should I let our lifelong friendship die right here? They say you can’t hide the love in your eyes. If I kept following him around, it would be unfair to me, and it would be unfair to Wendy. No girlfriend wants another girl who’s way too close hanging around her boyfriend. After that day, Bill never spoke to me again. If we passed each other in the hall, he’d look straight through me. The girl who was always by his side was no longer me; it was Wendy. He introduced her to his entire circle of friends. Wendy was his first love. The girl he cherished. I focused on my studies, quietly listening, like everyone else, to the stories of their romance whispered through the school. When Wendy’s stomach hurt from hunger in the middle of the night because of her strict dancer’s diet, Bill would bring her low-fat dinners specially prepared by his family’s nutritionist. When a jock from the rival high school cornered Wendy in an alley after school, Bill supposedly beat him so badly he ended up in the hospital. On this month’s exams, I reclaimed my spot as the top student in our year. My teachers had always told me to stop worrying about Bill, that it was bad for my studies. Bill’s family was wealthy; good grades were a luxury, not a necessity for him. That afternoon, as school let out, I rested my head on my hand and watched the spectacular sunset paint the sky. “Tessa, what college do you want to go to?” On a sweltering evening long ago, Bill had sat beside me, his long fingers toying with a strand of my hair as he asked the question nonchalantly. “Brierfield University,” I’d answered without hesitation. “That’s so far away.” I never told him the real reason. Brierfield wasn’t just a top-tier school; it was my escape. An escape from this city, and an escape from that house. My father was like so many men who find wealth—he found a new heart to go with it. My mother refused to divorce him, convinced it was her fault for not giving him a son. On her darkest nights, she would point a shaking finger at me, her voice a hysterical shriek, crying about why I couldn’t have been a boy, then her husband wouldn’t have strayed. Later, she did have a son. My father returned to the family, but only briefly. My mother, now with a son to dote on, poured all her attention into my little brother. She finally had her security, a son to care for her in her old age. “Hmm… well, I guess I’ll have to go to Brierfield too. You’re so clueless, you’d be a total mess without me there to look out for you.” The bragging boy in front of me was the only light in my broken world. I desperately wanted to hold onto that light. I was willing to waste all my time on him. Even if I didn’t get into Brierfield, as long as we ended up at the same college, that was enough. 4 A rumor started circulating that Wendy was a homewrecker who had stolen Bill from me. One afternoon, as my friend Maya and I were coming back from the restroom, Wendy ran past us, sobbing, her hand clapped over her mouth. Bill came charging after her, but when he saw me, he lunged, his hands closing around my throat. For a terrifying second, I thought he was going to kill me. “Tessa Shaw! I thought you wanted to stay away from me! What the hell is this now?” I choked, struggling for air. Maya frantically tried to push him away. “Are you crazy? We were just in the restroom! Let her go, she can’t breathe!” Her words snapped him out of it. He yanked his hands back, and I collapsed, gasping for air. “You’re disgusting, Tessa.” “Tessa, are you okay?” I crouched on the floor, coughing, tears streaming down my face. Maya wrapped her arms around me, patting my back gently. “It’s okay, Tessa. I don’t know what’s wrong with him and his psycho girlfriend.” I wiped my tears, biting my lip to keep from sobbing. The raw hatred in Bill’s eyes had been that of a complete stranger. He had looked like he genuinely wanted to strangle me. The boy from my memories was gone. Utterly gone. Later, a classmate cautiously passed me a phone under the desk. Someone had posted an anonymous message on the Crestwood Confessions page, accusing Wendy of being the “other woman” who had destroyed my relationship with Bill. A lot of people believed it. The comments were a firestorm of vicious insults directed at her. The marks on my neck were already turning a raw, angry red. I decided I would post a clarification on the page as soon as I got home. But I never got the chance. When I walked through the front door, my parents were sitting on the sofa, their faces grim. They were waiting for me. A knot of dread tightened in my stomach. A glass shattered at my feet. “What did you do at school to provoke Bill Vance?” my father roared, slamming his hand on the table, his eyes bulging. “Do you have any idea that our company’s entire future depends on our partnership with the Vance Corporation? Are you trying to ruin me? Huh?!” I stood there, frozen, as my mother’s shrill voice rained down insults, calling me a worthless daughter. My father demanded I go and apologize to Bill immediately. The sprawling, sterile villa felt like an icebox. I was shivering, cold to my very core. I don’t remember how the interrogation ended, or how I was dragged over to Bill’s house to apologize. I wanted to tell him I didn’t write the post, but that I would clear it up. But when he opened the door and looked down at me, his eyes were glacial. The words died in my throat. I lowered my head, bowed, and apologized. He just gave me a detached glance, leaning against the doorframe. “I don’t want to see you at school again, Tessa Shaw.” My parents bobbed their heads, fawning and promising he would never have to lay eyes on me again. I lifted my head mechanically, staring at him. Under the cold, white light of the porch, I couldn’t seem to make out his expression, couldn’t even really see his face anymore. In that moment, my dignity was crushed, ground into the dust. It was then I finally realized we were never from the same world. We were never equals. The moon doesn’t lower itself from the sky just because someone on the ground wishes for it. A moon in a well is just a reflection. It’s all an illusion. And the kindness the young master had once shown me? It was nothing more than a passing whim of a privileged boy. I never should have let myself dream. It was all a mistake, right from the very beginning. That night, I packed my things while my parents made arrangements to transfer me to a new school. 5 It had been almost two weeks since I transferred. I was renting a small apartment near my new school. My parents, terrified Bill might see me and get angry again, had basically told me not to come home. Westwood and Crestwood. In the same city, but worlds apart. If you weren’t looking for someone, you’d never find them. “Hey, Tessa Shaw. Come watch me play basketball today.” The speaker was a boy in a black and white jersey, a playful glint in his sly, fox-like eyes. When I first arrived, a girl in my class had warned me about him. “That’s Leo Sterling. He’s as famous for being a player as he is for being handsome.” The other students pretended to be busy with their own things, but I could feel their eyes on us. I’d lost count of how many times Leo had approached me over the past few weeks. They said this was the first time he’d ever chased a girl for this long. At our age, everyone secretly hoped for a dramatic campus love story, either for themselves or for someone they knew. They were already whispering that Leo, the playboy, was finally ready to settle down. But a player reformed is still a player at heart. And his past was messy. I shook my head gently. “I can’t. I have homework.” He glanced at the workbook on my desk and raised an eyebrow. “You know I’ve been trying to get you to go out with me for two weeks, right, Tessa Shaw?” “And?” He let out a soft chuckle. “So why do you keep saying no?” The classroom was nearly empty now. Outside, the sun was beginning its descent, painting half the sky in shades of fiery orange. I remembered something I’d read once: the evening breeze is free, the sunset is free, and I am one of a kind. “Tessa Shaw, you know, there’s a very strange contradiction about you…” The sharp blast of a whistle from the basketball court cut through the twilight. I looked at him. He smirked. “It’s this weird mix of… like, a deathly stillness and this fierce, stubborn spark.” “It just makes me more interested.” I shot him a cold look. “The game’s starting,” I reminded him. “It’s against Crestwood High today,” he said, his voice a low, meaningful murmur. As if anyone cared. I looked back down at my textbook. He clicked his tongue in annoyance and walked away. Once he was gone, I glanced up at the silent clock on the wall. That post on the Confessions page… I had a pretty good guess who had written it. But what did he stand to gain from it? Unlike Crestwood, Westwood High cut the power to the classrooms on the dot. At six-thirty, the lights went out, leaving only the fading glow of the sunset. I packed my bag and headed downstairs. A gentle breeze rustled through the crabapple trees, sending a shower of petals to the ground. They scattered, then were swept away by the wind. I stood there for a a moment, watching them go. My short life felt a lot like those petals—powerless, adrift. “Hey, isn’t that Tessa Shaw?” The voice pulled me from my thoughts. I was about to walk away when they blocked my path. Two familiar faces, looking stunned to see me here. I knew them from when I used to trail after Bill; they were his friends. We’d always gotten along well enough. They were both holding bottles of water, probably just coming from the campus store. “Tessa, you really transferred here?” I glanced at him, not quite understanding the emphasis on “really,” but I nodded. The one with the slicked-back hair nudged his friend. “Look, Tessa, you and Bill grew up together. He’s here today for the game. This is the perfect chance for you two to clear up the misunderstanding.” Everyone seemed to think I was incapable of doing something so spiteful. Everyone except Bill, the one person who should have known me best. “There’s no…” Before I could finish, a cold voice cut through the air from a short distance away. “Does it take you two that long to buy water? Or are you just going to stand there talking to irrelevant people?” Bill stood there, his gaze sweeping over me with a dark, dismissive glint, as if I were a complete stranger. His friends looked at me, embarrassed and awkward. I managed a small smile. “I should get going. See you.” “Yeah, okay. See ya.”

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While a client was getting handsy with me, my wife, Celeste, was across the table, playfully linking arms with her male assistant, sharing a drink. To keep the client happy, I drank until I had alcohol poisoning, the world swimming around me, my lungs tight and fighting for air. Celeste didn’t spare me a single glance. She was too busy picking cilantro out of her assistant’s bowl, coaxing him to eat. After the dinner, her assistant, a kid named Leo, complained he was bored. So she kicked me out of the car to take him out for a “second round.” “The kid’s been working so hard lately, I’m taking him out to relax,” she said, her tone dismissive. “You wouldn’t get what young people do for fun anyway. Don’t tag along.” She paused, then delivered the final blow. “And I’m going to be out with him all night, so we’ll have to postpone getting the marriage license tomorrow. We’ll talk about it some other time.” We had our wedding five years ago. This was the 99th time Celeste had unilaterally cancelled our appointment to make it official. I just nodded. If she was always going to be this busy, then maybe there was no point in getting that piece of paper after all. 1 The passenger window was half-down. Leo stuck his tongue out at me in a mock apology. “Sorry, Sean! It’s all Celeste’s fault, she just spoils me too much. I’ll make sure she brings you back some late-night snacks!” Before I could respond, Celeste ruffled his hair with a smile. “You little glutton. You think everyone is as greedy as you are?” Her eyes flicked to me, cold and hard. “Don’t bother with him. He’ll just eat it and then complain he’s having some allergic reaction. I don’t have time for those kinds of games.” So, she had seen me struggling earlier. She just thought I was faking it, another one of my pathetic attempts to get her attention. Usually, I would have broken down, cried, argued, tried to make her understand. But this time, I said nothing. I just managed a simple, “Alright. You two have fun.” Celeste seemed taken aback for a moment, then her usual mocking smirk returned. “It’s best if you don’t throw a tantrum.” The car sped away. Just before they left, Celeste, worried that Leo might get stuffy, thoughtfully rolled his window all the way down. I get carsick easily, especially in her car. But she never rolled the window down for me. “The wind blows all the dust in. Can you stop being so dramatic all the time?” I finally understood. I took off my wedding ring and tossed it into the dark, churning river below. The next morning, I went to the orchestra to hand over my duties. Celeste had been a piano prodigy since her debut, and I had been her manager the entire time. “You’re resigning? Does Celeste know?” my boss asked, shocked. “She’ll find out when the new manager arrives.” I left his office and walked to the performance hall. I ran into Celeste, fresh from a shower, wearing a new camisole, her hair still damp. She ran a hand through her hair, her eyes scanning me. “I drank too much last night, so I got a room to sleep it off. That’s why I didn’t come home.” It was the first time in ten years she had ever bothered to explain herself. I just nodded, saying nothing. “Did you have an early meeting this morning?” she asked. I looked at her, remembering all the mornings after a client dinner when I would wake up at five or six to prepare a huge spread of hangover cures and stomach-soothing broths for her. It had been this way since she was eighteen. No wonder she was surprised not to find it waiting for her this morning. “Something like that,” I said. I was about to leave, but Celeste, who had been frowning since she saw me, grabbed my arm, her face darkening. “Sean, that’s enough.” “We’re just rescheduling the license, it’s not like we’re not getting it at all. This little drama of yours is getting old.” But I wasn’t being dramatic. And I really wasn’t planning on getting that license anymore. I figured it was best to be direct. I was about to tell her when a petulant, whiny voice cut through the air. “Celeste! It’s all your fault!” Leo stomped his foot, his cheeks puffed out in a pout. “The underwear you bought me this morning is the wrong size! I can’t even fit into these little triangle things! You’re such a straight girl, you have no idea!” Celeste immediately let go of me and rushed to his side, wrapping him in a hug. Her voice was sharp with concern. “You’re still recovering from gastritis and a fever, and you’re running around barefoot? Are you trying to kill yourself?” A memory surfaced. Earlier this month, I had a bad case of the flu, my temperature soaring to 104. I was curled up in bed, begging her to take me to the doctor. She had just frowned. “What’s the point of you?” “It’s just a little cold and a fever, it’s normal. Just tough it out. You’re so much trouble.” When I came back to myself, Celeste was already helping Leo walk away, her arm wrapped tightly around him. I looked away, swallowing the familiar ache in my chest, and pulled out my phone. I contacted the headhunter who had been trying to recruit me for a position abroad. After booking my flight, a notification popped up. Leo had tagged me in a new post. It was a live photo of a large hand gently rubbing his stomach. In the background, you could hear him sighing contentedly. “Celeste, your hand is so warm~” The caption read: My clueless older sister feels bad that my tummy hurts, so she’s going to make all the pain go away! It feels so good to be cherished like this~ His intentions were painfully obvious. I liked the post, then went to my own profile and removed the wedding photo of me and Celeste that had been my background for years. … Today, another major orchestra was visiting for a joint performance. I was still in the process of handing over my work, so I had to help out. I was responsible for greeting the musicians and showing them to the lounge. As I led the group in, the first thing we saw was Celeste, sitting at a table, feeding Leo. “Wow, I heard the great Celeste married her manager, Sean, a long time ago. I didn’t realize they were so in love!” “I know, right! And a pianist’s hands are her most valuable asset. She’s actually using them to pick out food for her husband!” Yes, a pianist’s most important asset is her hands. For ten years, I had taken care of everything for her, terrified she might get even a tiny scratch. And now, she was using those precious hands to wait on another man. The murmurs of admiration finally reached the two of them. Leo, seeing me at the head of the group, immediately put on a pitiful expression. “Sean, look at Celeste! She’s forcing me to eat this nutritional porridge. I’m so sick of her feeding me!” Celeste didn’t even look at me. She just gently wiped the corner of Leo’s mouth. “Be good. Finish this, and then you can have your fever reducer.” The chatter around me died instantly. I met their awkward gazes with a calm smile and led them to their seats. Once everyone was settled, I pulled out my phone and started the online visa application process. I don’t know when Celeste appeared behind me. She saw my screen, her eyes turning cold, her voice sharp with suspicion. “A visa? Who are you getting a visa for?” Before I could answer, she grabbed my hand, her voice filled with shock. “Sean, where’s your ring!?” “Don’t tell me you accidentally left it at home!” I knew why she was so shocked. In eight years of marriage, my ring had never left my finger. Hers, on the other hand, had never been worn in public. Combined with everything else, a flicker of panic crossed her face. She squeezed my hand, her eyes boring into mine. “Answer me!” I was about to tell her the truth when Leo let out a piercing scream. “Ah! It hurts so much, Celeste! Owww…” Everyone turned to look. Leo had fallen to the floor next to the grand piano, a bleeding gash on his outstretched palm. Celeste pushed me aside and rushed to him, cradling him in her arms. “How could you be so careless!” Leo’s face was streaked with tears. He buried his face in Celeste’s chest, casting pitiful, frightened glances in my direction. “I don’t know… sniff… Sean was supposed to have checked everything last night… I don’t know why there was a huge piece of broken glass on the piano lid…” “Owww… Celeste, it really, really hurts…” Celeste’s gaze fell on the blood-stained shard of glass on the piano. Her face contorted with fury. The next second, she was screaming at me. “Sean, have your little games gotten so twisted that you’re actually trying to hurt people now!?” “Get over here and apologize!” Ignoring the contemptuous glares from everyone else, I walked over to them. “I didn’t do it.” “If it wasn’t you, who was it!? Everyone in this orchestra knows how controlling you are! You’re always the one who personally inspects my piano, aren’t you!?” Without another word, she grabbed a small ceramic figurine from the piano and smashed it on the floor. Then she grabbed my hands and shoved them into the scattered shards. Pain exploded through my hands as countless pieces of ceramic embedded themselves in my flesh. “This is your lesson for today!” she spat, her voice cold. “No one is to help him clean this up!” “I’ll be waiting for you to reflect on what you’ve done. When you’re ready to apologize, you can come find me.” With that, she hoisted Leo onto her back and left without a backward glance. My eyes burned, my vision blurring. Tears fell, one by one, onto the shattered ceramic pieces. My hands throbbed, but the pain in my heart was so intense I could barely breathe. The two little figures on the ceramic ornament were now in pieces. A small, folded piece of paper fell out from inside. Celeste had this made when she proposed to me, a special request from a temple. Back then, her eyes held only me. “Sean,” she had said, “I’ve made a wish before the heavens. We will be together for the rest of our lives.” And now, she was the one who had broken that vow. I carefully gathered the shards, along with my memories and the last vestiges of my love for her, and threw them in the trash. As I passed through the main hall, Celeste’s performance was just ending. The applause was thunderous. She looked radiant, walking off stage to take Leo’s hand and bring him up for the final bow. Celeste had experienced this moment of an artist’s triumph many times. Not long ago, I overheard my boss ask her, “Sean has worked so hard as your manager for so many years. You’re partners and a married couple. Why don’t you ever bring him up to take a bow with you?” Her voice was laced with contempt. “I got to where I am today because of my own talent. He’s just riding my coattails. And he’s getting old. He’s not exactly someone I want to show off.” My gaze returned to the stage. Leo stood beside Celeste, his smile brilliant. The spotlight shone on them, and they really did look like a perfect couple. Just then, my phone buzzed. My visa had been approved. … I was halfway through packing when Celeste came home. She tossed a small brown bottle at me. “Medicine for you.” I picked it up. I had seen this bottle of iodine before. In Leo’s social media post, Celeste was using it to treat his cut. But I’m allergic to iodine. When Celeste was eighteen and just starting out, her prodigious talent had already made her a star. Another, more established musician in the industry, jealous of her success, hired someone to injure her hands. I had thrown myself in front of her without a second thought. I only sustained minor injuries, but a colleague at the orchestra, not knowing about my allergy, used iodine to disinfect the cuts. I went into anaphylactic shock and was rushed to the hospital. It took them nearly a full day in surgery to save my life. My colleagues later told me that for every minute I was in critical condition, Celeste had been outside the operating room, crying. When she came back, she threw a massive fit, tossing out every bottle of iodine in the orchestra and forbidding it from ever being brought in again. I never thought she would be the one to break her own rule. I dropped the bottle into the trash. Celeste saw my action and just snorted. “Use it or don’t. I don’t care.” Her phone buzzed. She glanced at it, and her expression softened. Her voice was gentle as she spoke into the phone. “Leo, remember not to get your wound wet. And you have to watch what you eat for a while. When you’re all better, I’ll take you out for something delicious.” Perhaps my unusual silence made her uneasy. She kept glancing at me out of the corner of her eye. Finally, she couldn’t help but speak. “What happened today… I was just trying to make an example of you. You know how much dirty business goes on in the orchestra.” “The reason I punished you like that was to warn the others. And the reason I’m being so attentive to Leo now is so that you don’t become the subject of gossip.” I just nodded. I didn’t argue. I didn’t explain. “I understand.” Celeste was clearly taken aback. A strange feeling washed over her. She seemed to want to say more, but I had already walked into the bathroom to pack my toiletries. On the corner of the sink, a pair of black and white boxer briefs, not mine, lay there. From outside the door, I could hear a voice message playing on Celeste’s phone. “Celeste, I forgot the underwear I changed into at your place this morning… Can you bring them to me? And I love the smell of your body wash, can you bring me a bottle of that too?” No wonder Celeste was wearing a different style of top this morning. And the scent of her body wash was one she never used at home. She really was so attentive to his every need. Celeste, still on the phone, rushed towards the bathroom. As she entered, she saw me, and the boxer briefs in my hand. Her eyes darted away. “Leo wasn’t feeling well this morning, so I let him change here.” “Mm, okay.” I didn’t react, just stepped aside to let her pass. Celeste packed the underwear away, but as she was about to leave, she stopped. “If you’re going to overthink this, then maybe I shouldn’t go.” I waved my hand, indicating I didn’t care. She hesitated, but then Leo called again, urging her to hurry. After hanging up, she said to me, “I’ll be right back after I drop this off. In the meantime, you can make the appointment. We’ll get the marriage license tomorrow.” With that, she hurried away. Once I had finished packing, I scrolled through my social media. Leo had posted again. The first picture was of a long, delicate hand testing the water temperature in a bathtub. The second was a selfie of Leo, with the blurry profile of a woman in the background, carefully washing his hair. My sister says I can’t get my hand wet because of the injury, so she’s going to wash my hair and give me a bath~ Why do I feel so shy all of a sudden… I flexed my bandaged hands, then took one last, long look around the home I had shared with Celeste for eight years. Just then, a text from her arrived. Something came up, I can’t come back. Cancel the appointment for tomorrow. It’s fine, I thought to myself. I never made one anyway. I dragged my suitcase out the door, got into a taxi, and headed for the airport. I sent Celeste a single text message saying we were over, then turned off my phone as the plane took off. …

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The phone call came while Leo was fast asleep beside me. It was my parents, telling me it was time to go over to his house and meet his blind date. I thought they were joking. I leaned over and whispered, “Leo, they said they found a blind date for you.” He let out a lazy “mmhmm” and pulled me closer. “Be a doll, Thea, and pick out an outfit for me later. And do my hair.” When I didn’t move, he cracked open an eye and let out a cynical laugh. “What’s with you? We’re just bed buddies. You didn’t actually think I was going to marry you, did you?” 1 For a moment, I couldn’t process it. My hands fumbled as I pushed him away, scrambling to pull on the clothes scattered on the floor. I didn’t dare look at him. “Thea, look at me,” Leo said, propping his chin on his arm, a playful glint in his eye. “You didn’t really think we were a couple, did you?” The words “bed buddies” echoed in my head. My hands trembled so badly I couldn’t fasten the clasp on my bra. Leo threw back the covers, revealing a lean, sculpted torso, and knelt on the edge of the bed. He reached out and expertly fastened it for me. I kept my head down. “Who’s the date?” I asked, forcing a bitter laugh. “Please don’t tell me your parents just grabbed some random person from a singles mixer.” I looked in the mirror at the constellation of love bites scattered across my skin. My legs still ached. Leo, now wearing only a pair of gray sweatpants, came up behind me and buried his face in the crook of my neck. “It’s Amelia,” he murmured, his beautiful, almond-shaped eyes crinkling at the corners. “Amelia Thorne, from the art department back in college. Remember her?” He repeated her name, a note of excitement in his voice. “To be honest, I’m actually pretty nervous about seeing her.” My hand, holding a tube of lipstick, froze. Of course, I remembered. Leo had had a massive crush on her, but before he could make a move, she’d moved abroad. I thought that was all in the past. He studied my face, his lips pursed. “Hey, don’t get any funny ideas, Thea. We grew up together. You’re practically one of the guys. I mean, you’re gorgeous, sure, but… you’re my buddy.” “You’re my perfect partner in crime—my food buddy, my road trip buddy, my bed buddy…” His words hit me like a physical blow. My whole body went cold. I looked at his smiling face and managed a weak smile of my own. He continued, oblivious. “Besides, I know everything about you. What you’re going to wear, what underwear you’ll pair with it… it’s all so predictable. There’s no mystery.” “Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night and see you sleeping next to me, and I get this jolt of fear—what if we actually ended up married, like our parents always joke? My whole life would be laid out in front of me, over before it even started.” He shivered, as if the very thought was terrifying. I dug my nails into my palms, fighting back tears. “I have to go,” I said, grabbing my coat and fleeing like a deserter. 2 I thought we were dating. We did everything couples do. We ate together, went on dates, hung out with friends. We’d even kiss during games of “Truth or Dare” and say “I love you” without a second thought. Leo would pick me up from work on rainy days. He’d secretly hold my hand under the table during family dinners. I had no idea that what I thought was a six-month relationship was just a game of house to him. “Thea?” My mom tapped on the car window, her face etched with concern. I snapped back to reality. I glanced in the rearview mirror and saw my tear-streaked face. I quickly wiped my cheeks and got out of the car. “Mom!” I threw my arms around her, hiding my face in her shoulder. “I missed you,” I said, forcing a cheerful tone. She was holding a bag of groceries. She took my arm, a wave of relief washing over her. “Honey, why were you just sitting in the car? You scared me. Didn’t you see that news story about someone suffocating in their car…” I nodded along. Suddenly, her tone shifted. “By the way, Thea… Leo’s date is coming over soon. His parents are taking this one very seriously. I hear Leo planned the whole thing himself. He said he was worried she might feel awkward, and that having another girl there would help. Your aunt and I have been friends for so many years, so today…” She trailed off, looking at me with a pained expression. I understood. “It’s okay, Mom. I get it. Break the ice, say nice things. I know the drill.” She gave me a look filled with pity. Of course, she knew. A picture of me and Leo sat on my nightstand. I treasured every gift he’d ever given me, and my journals were filled with a love for him that I couldn’t hide. How could she not know? We walked home in silence. As we reached the door, I said suddenly, “Dad’s retiring next month. Let’s move to Florida.” I looked at my mom’s stunned face and put on my best cheerful, daughterly voice. “You guys have always talked about retiring there. And I don’t have any big dreams. I’d be happy just being a dance teacher, staying close to you.” 3 Sitting in Leo’s house with my parents felt different this time. We were usually so boisterous, so comfortable. The last time we were here, we had used “playing video games” as an excuse to sneak off to his room and kiss. This time… “Oh, Catherine, you have no idea the lengths this boy went to for Amelia,” Leo’s mom, Aunt Rose, was saying to my mom. “I told him, ‘Just ask her out!’ But no, he had to insist on ‘dating with the intention of marriage.’ He had his father pull all sorts of strings just to arrange this ‘blind date’ today.” The house was meticulously decorated, filled with roses. There were platters of fruit and sweets on the table. Even their little dog was wearing a bright red sweater. And Leo was in front of the mirror, checking his reflection over and over, making sure he was perfect. The irony was almost suffocating. Just last night, we were tangled up in his sheets, and he was kissing the small birthmark on my hip with such passion. And the boxers he was wearing right now? I bought them for him. “It’s such a shame, though…” Aunt Rose said, taking my mom’s hand. “We always said we’d be in-laws one day. We even had a childhood engagement pact for the kids.” She glanced at me. “I just adore Thea. She’s not only beautiful, but she has such a wonderful personality, so full of life…” I kept my eyes down, not daring to speak. I was afraid that if I did, the tears would start to fall. “Mom!” Leo frowned, clearly annoyed. “You said it yourself, that was your generation’s thing. You and Aunt Catherine are best friends, so why don’t you marry her? What does it have to do with me? What century are we living in?” He had no regard for his parents’ feelings. He turned to me, his tone sharp, as if I had put his mother up to this. “Thea, where’s the bracelet my mom gave you?” When I didn’t answer, he strode over, grabbed my wrist, and pushed up my sleeve. “The one from the engagement pact. I don’t want Amelia to see it and get the wrong idea…” The room fell silent. Leo’s father and my dad stopped drinking their tea. My mom, who had been arranging flowers, froze. The atmosphere turned painfully awkward. My mom looked at me, and the vase and scissors in her hands clattered onto the table. She started to stand up, but Aunt Rose pulled her back down. Aunt Rose, however, shot up from her seat, stood protectively in front of me, and gave Leo a hard shove. “Leo! What do you think you’re doing? First of all, nothing has even happened between you and this Amelia yet! And second of all, that bracelet… you were the one who got on your knees and begged Thea to wear it when you were seventeen!” It was as if Leo’s soul had finally returned to his body. He remembered. He remembered the year someone had confessed their feelings to me. In a panic, he had gotten drunk, stolen the antique jade bracelet from his mother, and shown up at my house in the middle of the night, crying and pleading, even getting on his knees, begging me to wear his family’s heirloom. He loosened his tie, took a deep breath, and then looked at me with a forced smile. “I’m just a little on edge. I… it’s not right to take back a gift. You can keep it.” “It’s fine. I’ll give it back to you. I’ll go get it now,” I said, my voice calm as I stood up. “I’ll be right back. I won’t be long.” Before anyone could react, I grabbed my bag and walked out. 4 When I returned with the bracelet and was about to knock, I was startled by a chorus of cheers from inside. “Welcome…” Leo’s smile froze when he saw me. “What are you doing here?” He seemed surprised that I had come back, and even more surprised that I was actually returning the bracelet. When I handed it to him, his face was a mask of disbelief. He finally took it and tucked it away, then leaned in and whispered in my ear. “Thea, for the sake of our… partnership, don’t cause any trouble today. Amelia is a sensitive girl. Don’t say anything to upset her.” I didn’t want to deal with him. Amelia is a girl, but I’m not? I looked at the boy I had loved for my entire youth, and a bone-deep chill threatened to swallow me whole. Ten minutes later, Amelia arrived, escorted by the matchmaker. The older generation chatted amiably. That was why my parents had to be there—to subtly lay out our family’s background and future prospects for the matchmaker’s benefit. Throughout it all, Leo sat beside Amelia, his every move radiating care and attention. A nearly thirty-year-old man acting like a nervous teenager. I had nothing to do with any of it, which was fine by me. I was just looking for a chance to slip away. But then, Amelia turned her gentle gaze on me. “You must be Thea. I’ve heard so much about you. The goddess of the art department, wasn’t it?” Startled, I waved my hands dismissively. “Oh, no, that was just my friends fooling around in college.” I thought the attention would shift, but Amelia persisted. “Not at all. I remember you performed a classical dance at the spring formal, and the next day, the dorm lobby was flooded with flowers for you.” Before I could reply, she tugged playfully on Leo’s arm. “You two grew up together. How did you not end up together? I remember you were inseparable. Everyone thought you would get married.” All eyes turned to me. I don’t know how to describe it, but this seemingly harmless woman exuded a strange hostility towards me. “Her?” Leo said, looking at Amelia as he handed her a perfectly peeled apple. “To you, she might be a ‘goddess’ or whatever. To me, she’s just a tomboy. My best buddy.” He chuckled as if remembering something. “You have no idea. When she cried as a kid, snot and tears would just stream down her face. If I didn’t wipe it for her, it would have gone right into her mouth.” “And when she was fifteen, she fainted during gym class and started talking nonsense, flailing her arms around…” “I have to go,” I said, standing up, barely containing my anger. I forced a smile at the adults. “You all enjoy the rest of your evening.” Amelia looked at Leo with a concerned expression. “Did I say something wrong to upset her?” Leo shot me a furious glare, as if I were the one ruining the mood. Before he could speak, I cut him off. “I have a date with my boyfriend tonight. If I don’t leave now, I’ll be late.”

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The holiday rush was about to begin. Across the city, businesses were shutting down, sending their employees home for a well-deserved break. Not me. I wasn’t giving my crew a single day off. And I sure as hell wasn’t paying them. The workers, a rugged bunch of construction hands, had unfurled a banner and were now picketing below my office building. Their cries were raw, desperate. “Mr. Blackwood! Just pay us what you owe! Our wives and kids are counting on this money to live!” “Please, Mr. Blackwood! We don’t even have to go home for Christmas, just give us our wages! My son’s tuition is due! My family hasn’t had a decent meal in weeks!” I stood there, impeccably dressed in a bespoke designer suit, dangling the keys to my Mercedes from one hand and pinching my nose with the other, my face a mask of annoyance. “Wages? You want your wages? Is the job even finished? I should be charging you for the delays, and you have the nerve to ask me for money?” … My words were like a lit match to gasoline. The protest exploded. An old man, his face a roadmap of wrinkles, dropped to his knees right there on the pavement, his sobs tearing through the cold air. “Mr. Blackwood! We’re not educated men! We took this job because you paid well. My wife… she’s real sick. If I don’t pay the hospital, they’re gonna stop treating her… she’s gonna die!” Others chimed in, their voices a chorus of desperation. “He’s right, sir. We’re all in a tight spot. To a man like you, our pay is nothing, but without it, we’ll be out on the streets!” Sobbing, the old man began to crawl forward on his knees, reaching a grimy hand for the leg of my trousers. I sidestepped him with a look of pure disgust, my brow furrowed. “Did you wash your hands before trying to touch me? This suit is worth fifty grand. You think you can afford to replace it?” The old man froze, his hand hovering in mid-air. He rubbed his palms together nervously and hung his head. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Please, don’t mind an old fool like me. I’m begging you, just pay us our wages. Save my wife!” “If you pay us now, I’ll stay. I won’t go home for Christmas. I’ll keep working for you, I swear. Please, Mr. Blackwood, please!” With that, he began to slam his forehead against the concrete. Thump. Thump. Thump. A raw, red patch was already forming on his skin. I rolled my eyes, my voice dripping with scorn. “What do I care if your wife lives or dies? She’s not my wife. Don’t try to lay your guilt trip on me.” “I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: the project isn’t finished, and you’re not getting a single dime until it is!” The old man’s spine seemed to collapse. He crumpled to the ground, his body wracked with gut-wrenching sobs. The other workers stared, their faces a mixture of sorrow and burning resentment. A few looked so enraged they seemed on the verge of fainting. A crowd of onlookers had gathered, their eyes filled with a hatred so intense it felt like they wanted to tear me apart with their bare hands. “Julian Blackwood! What kind of monster are you? Everyone knows how long a project like this takes! How dare you withhold their money and keep them from their families at Christmas? That’s their blood and sweat you’re holding hostage!” A man in a sharp black suit pushed through the crowd, glaring at me. I recognized him instantly. Leo Vance. A slimy middleman for construction contracts. He was the one who’d recommended this crew of troublemakers in the first place. “Leo, if you’re so concerned, why don’t you front them the cash?” I said with a lazy shrug. “I’ll pay you back when the job’s done. Right now, I’m a little short.” Leo’s fists clenched so tight his knuckles cracked. He looked at me as if I were something he’d scraped off his shoe. “You’re short on cash? Don’t make me laugh! You just posted pictures of your new private jet on Instagram yesterday! Weren’t you about to take your girlfriend on a little trip to the Maldives?” “You could pay their wages ten times over with a fraction of that money!” The crowd roared in agreement. “What a scumbag! I can’t stand parasites like him. Someone put this guy on blast! He should be hung from a lamppost!” Leo helped the old man to his feet. “Sir, don’t you kneel to him. We kneel to God, we honor our ancestors, but we don’t kneel to a heartless leech like this!” “I’m seeing this through today,” Leo declared to the crowd. “I’m not going home until you get what you’re owed!” A wave of cheers went up. “Now there’s a man with a conscience!” “Expose this Julian Blackwood! Let’s see who’ll work with him after this! Ruin him!” The old man bowed gratefully to Leo, but when he looked back at me, his voice was still timid. “Thank you, Mr. Vance, you’re a good man. You got us this job, and now you’re helping us get paid… Mr. Blackwood, we’re honest folk. If you just pay us today, we’ll stay and finish the work. We promise!” The other workers echoed his plea. “Yeah! The job’s halfway done! We’ll see it through to the end!” All eyes were on me. I, however, was busy browsing charters for a luxury yacht in the Maldives and was getting irritated by the interruption. “Look what you’ve done! The yacht I wanted is sold out now! You’ve completely ruined my vacation mood!” “You’re all acting like it’s the end of the world over a little bit of cash. I told you, you’ll get paid when the job is done! If I pay you now, who’s going to cover my losses?” A collective gasp went through the crowd, their chests heaving in disbelief at my audacity. Leo couldn’t take it anymore. He lunged forward, grabbing my tie and pulling his fist back. “Blackwood! I’m asking you one last time. Are you going to pay these men or not?” I let out a short, sharp laugh. “And what if I don’t? Are they going to drop dead? Maybe you should all take a look in the mirror instead of blaming me for your problems!” “And you,” I sneered at Leo. “You want to hit me? That’s assault. I’m calling the cops!” That was the last straw for some of the workers up front. They spat at me, one after another. “You goddamn Scrooge! We worked day and night for you, rain or shine!” “You pushed us to work faster and faster, and what did you give us? Watery soup and bread for lunch, barely a scrap of meat! But we didn’t complain! We took the job, and we were determined to do it right!” “Some of the guys aggravated old injuries working for you, but they bit their tongues and kept at it! And now you won’t even pay us what we’ve earned?” The man’s voice cracked, thick with unshed tears. The onlookers were filming everything, a sea of dozens of smartphones pointed directly at me. “What a soulless bastard! Let’s make this go viral! This guy shouldn’t be allowed to leave this building until he pays up!” “I’ve already called the union and the Department of Labor! They’re on their way! Don’t let this parasite get away!” Faced with the mounting pressure, I remained as calm as ever. “A few of you just spat on my shoes. That’s going to cost you, say, ten grand for cleaning and damages. Pay up, and then we’ll talk.” “And you mentioned old injuries? Are you trying to scam me for worker’s comp? You’re all a bunch of scheming crooks. Good thing I saw this coming. You’re not getting a cent!” “You son of a…” Leo’s fist connected with my face. The world exploded in a flash of light as my glasses shattered, my vision blurring. The crowd cheered. “Yeah! That’s what he deserves! Give the scumbag what’s coming to him!” I clutched my eye, pointing a shaky finger at him. “You hit me! You’re paying for my pain and suffering! You’re not leaving here until you do!” Leo shook his wrist, his expression dark. “Fine. I’ll keep hitting you until you agree to pay their wages. Then we can talk about my compensation for having to deal with you.” He bit out each word. “Julian, just pay them! Forget the Maldives! I don’t want to go! I won’t be able to sleep at night if you don’t pay them!” A slender figure came running down from the building entrance. She was moving so fast in her high heels that she nearly stumbled. It was my girlfriend, Lyla. Also, my company’s CFO. Lyla threw herself in front of me, bowing deeply to the workers, apologizing over and over. “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry. Julian has been under a lot of stress lately. He’s just confused. I promise, you will all be paid.” After humbling herself, she turned to me, her face streaked with tears. “Julian, you’ve made so much money. Isn’t it enough? This is their livelihood. Don’t do this!” “We don’t have to go to the Maldives, okay? And you don’t have to pay for the wedding, I don’t need it. Just… consider that money spent, and pay these men what they’re owed!” My eyes roamed over her. She had a fiery body and an innocent face, a combination that was even more heart-wrenching when she cried. She was my type, through and through. And now she was offering to forgo the wedding fund? That would save me a pretty penny. “It’s a thought, but…” I paused. “Your wedding fund won’t even cover their wages. Why don’t you use your dowry to pay them instead?” No one could believe I could be so utterly shameless. Lyla’s face went white. She swayed on her feet. Leo stepped in, pulling her behind him as he spat at me. “Have you no shame? What kind of man withholds wages and then asks his fiancée to bail him out with her own inheritance?” I shrugged. “I told you, the project isn’t done, so no pay. She’s the one who wants to pay them, so she can use her own money. Seems fair to me.” “But just so we’re clear,” I added, “if you pay them now, you still owe me the full dowry later. I’m not marrying a woman who throws her money away.” A bitter, broken laugh escaped Lyla’s lips, as if it took the last of her strength. “Fine. I’ll use my dowry.” “Christmas is almost here. These men have families waiting for this money. What does my inheritance matter compared to that?” There wasn’t a dry eye in the crowd. They were all moved by Lyla’s sacrifice, and their hatred for me deepened. “I think I’m gonna be sick. How did a monster like Julian land such an amazing woman? Did he save her life in a past existence?” “Lyla doesn’t have that much money, does she? If she gives it all away, how is she going to live? God, I wish that bastard would just drop dead!” The workers themselves were shaking their heads, tears in their eyes. “No, no, miss. We can’t take your money. We didn’t work for you.” “It was you who paid out of your own pocket to get us better food when the lunch catering was bad. We could never take your money.” But Lyla was resolute, shaking her head and trying to calm them with a soft voice. For a moment, I was lost in a memory. Starting the company had been hard. In the beginning, it was just me and Lyla. She was with me every step of the way as we grew, handling logistics, procurement, secretarial duties, finances… she did the work of four people. At one point, the stress landed her in the ICU. She had given me the best years of her life. She was just like this back then. Stubborn and determined. She’d said, “Julian, everything will be okay. Our company will grow, and we’ll help a lot of people make a good living.” I held her in my arms back then and swore I would give her the grandest wedding, that we would build our dream together. But things change. People change. I hardened my heart and looked away. Leo’s eyes were red with fury. “Julian, are you even a man? Hiding behind your fiancée’s inheritance? Pathetic!” I chuckled, my tone turning suggestive. “Whether I’m a man or not… my fiancée knows the answer to that quite well. As for her inheritance… we’re family. What’s mine is hers, what’s hers is mine.” My words made Leo laugh, a harsh, grating sound. “You twist everything! It’s disgusting! Lyla, aren’t you the CFO of his company? Since he won’t pay, you transfer the money from the company account. He just said it himself—you’re family, there’s no ‘yours’ or ‘mine’!” A spark of realization lit up the crowd. “That’s right! Take it from his company account! Why should you have to use your own money?” Lyla wiped her tears, her gaze filled with sorrow as she looked at me. “Julian, I don’t want to touch the company’s money… but I can’t stand by and watch you make this terrible mistake!” “These people have families to feed! This is all they have! With or without your approval, I’m going to make sure they get paid!” Her voice was soft, but it rang with unshakeable conviction. The crowd burst into applause. “Now that’s a real boss! How did this company end up with that scumbag Julian instead of her?” I just smiled faintly, making no move to stop her. Lyla, spurred on by the crowd’s encouragement, opened the company’s banking app to initiate the transfers. But as she scanned the first worker’s payment code, her eyes widened in disbelief. “Why is there no money in the account? The company’s been doing so well! And… the account is frozen!”

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My boyfriend, Liam, shaved my head for his childhood friend. Dolores was losing her hair to chemotherapy, so he demanded I give her mine. “Dolores’s allergic to the synthetic ones on the market,” he’d said, his voice flat. “You’ve been growing your hair for a decade. It’s perfect for a wig.” I refused. So his friends pinned me down, holding my arms and legs while he took an electric razor and scraped it against my scalp until my long, glossy black hair was nothing but a butchered mess. Dolores, sitting in her wheelchair, pointed at me and burst out laughing. “Liam, look at her! She looks so ridiculous, like a plucked frog.” A smile touched Liam’s lips as he nodded in agreement. “See? Was all this fuss really necessary?” But he knew. He knew that a choppy, uneven haircut had once been the reason I was bullied for six long years. Back then, he had been the one to stand in front of me, arms spread wide, my protector. Now, he was the one holding the blade. His friends chimed in, one after another. “Come on, don’t hold it against a sick person.” Liam turned, his voice sharp with impatience. “Don’t bother. Just let her go. She’s acting like it’s the end of the world over a few strands of hair. It’s not like it won’t grow back.” So I turned and walked away. And I never looked back. Later, I heard that to win me back, Liam Foster knelt his way up a nine-thousand-step cathedral staircase, ruining his knees in the process. 1 The pressure on my limbs vanished. I was free. “Liam, look at her! She’s hilarious, like a little toad,” Dolores shrieked from her wheelchair, pointing a slender finger at my now-bare head. His friends roared with laughter, slapping each other on the back. Liam glanced at me, his expression casual. “Dolores’s allergic to store-bought wigs. Your hair was long enough, so it was the perfect solution.” His words were a distant hum. I couldn’t hear them over the sound of my own heart shattering. I reached up, my fingers finding only a few stray wisps of hair, and a fresh wave of agony washed over me. Just two hours earlier, Liam had called to tell me I had to come to Dolores’s birthday party. I didn’t get along with Dolores, not really. But it was a request from Liam, and Dolores was, after all, a cancer patient. So I went, gift in hand. I never imagined the “party” was a trap. A setup for them to hold me down and forcibly shave my head. Looking at Liam’s cold, indifferent face, I remembered the rare moment of affection he’d shown me just a couple of days ago. He’d brought me a set of expensive, high-end hair care products. “The air’s been dry lately,” he’d said. “Make sure you take good care of your hair.” I was so surprised, so flattered by the gesture, that I’d used them that very night. Only now did the sickening truth dawn on me. He wasn’t asking me to care for my hair for my sake. He was preparing it so Dolores’s new wig would be as comfortable as possible. Suddenly, Liam started walking toward me. For a fleeting, foolish moment, I thought he felt a pang of guilt, that he was coming to apologize. Instead, he pinched the last remaining lock of hair from my shoulder with a look of distaste and snipped it off without a second thought. He turned to his friends. “Can’t you guys do a clean job? Why leave this bit behind? I treat you all to dinner, and you can’t even do one simple thing right.” The group erupted in jeers and laughter. “Our bad, our bad! Hey, look, you think Ava’s gonna cry?” “Dolores’s the one who’s sick, swallowing all that medicine every day, and you don’t see her whining.” The barbs flew, one after another, but Liam’s expression never changed. His friends had never liked me. I was an outsider, a charity case who didn’t fit into their wealthy, pedigreed world. I was never invited to their gatherings, and when I once asked Liam if he could take me with him, he just brushed me off. “We run in different circles, Ava. Don’t try to force it.” Seeing my blank stare, Liam’s gaze finally settled on me. He raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips. “Ava, you’re not actually mad, are you? Lighten up. Think of it as doing a good deed.” My eyes filled with a grief so profound it ached. “I just have one question. Was this your idea, or was it Dolores’s?” Dolores wheeled herself between us, two perfect tears tracing paths down her pale cheeks. “It was my idea. If you have a problem, take it up with me. Don’t make things difficult for Liam.” Instantly, Liam’s face hardened as he glared at me. “Dolores’s a patient. Can you stop upsetting her? She’s like a sister to me, we grew up together. What’s the big deal with you, her future sister-in-law, donating a wig?” His casual dismissal was a physical blow. My eyes stung. How could someone change so completely? Years ago, when my parents forced me to cut my hair short to sell it for my brother’s new toys, I was relentlessly bullied for my ragged appearance. It was Liam who had stood in front of me, grinning defiantly. “From now on,” he’d declared, “I’ve got your back. And your hair.” The memory drained the last of my strength. My voice was quiet, hollow. “Liam, as of today, we’re done.” I looked him in the eye. “You can wire me the money for the hair. I’m under no obligation to donate it to her.” 2 Liam froze, then reached out and pressed the back of his hand to my forehead, a scornful laugh escaping his lips. “Ava, are you trying to break up with me?” he scoffed. “You don’t have a fever. What’s with the crazy talk?” He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a low, menacing whisper. “You’ve been with me for eight years. You really think you’ll find anyone else to marry you after this? Who would want you, Ava? Can you stop being so damn dramatic?” The tears I’d been holding back threatened to spill over. So he did remember. Eight years. Our friends used to say that after dating for so long, a lover becomes family. But Liam hadn’t become my family. And lately, he felt less and less like my lover. I bit my lip so hard I tasted blood and met his gaze head-on. “There are plenty of men in the world. It’s not like you’re my only option.” Liam’s face darkened. His friends, sensing the shift, started to speak up. “Alright, that’s enough. Liam’s already trying to be nice here, Ava. Don’t push it.” “It’s just a wig! Get Liam to buy you a new one. Hell, buy seven, one for every day of the week, haha!” After his friends had their fun, Dolores chimed in, her voice trembling with manufactured fragility. “This is all my fault. Ava, I’ll pay you for the wig, okay? Please, just don’t make things hard for Liam.” She blinked, her eyes welling up again, a picture of pathetic innocence that clearly tugged at Liam’s heartstrings. He shot me a venomous look, as if I were his mortal enemy. “Ava, if you have a problem, take it up with me!” he snarled. “Dolores is sick. She’s very, very sick. Why do you have to pick on a patient? You’ve changed. You were never like this before!” I opened my mouth to speak, but before I could, Dolores clutched her stomach and let out a pained cry. “Liam, it hurts… Help me…” In a flash, Liam shoved me aside. I stumbled backward, caught off guard, and my leg hit a chair, sending me crashing to the floor. “Hiss—” A sharp pain shot through me. Liam saw me fall, but there wasn’t a flicker of concern in his eyes. Instead, he roared at me, his voice cracking with rage. “Get the hell out of the way! You whine and cry about a stupid haircut, but then you go and upset Dolores when you know how fragile she is! If anything happens to her, I swear to God, I will never forgive you!” With that, he scooped Dolores into his arms and stormed out, his pack of cronies trailing behind him. The last one to leave, the one holding my severed hair, casually tossed the long, dark bundle into a nearby trash can. I stared for a moment, stunned. Then I scrambled over, my hands shaking as I carefully gathered my hair from the garbage. The tears finally came, hot and unstoppable. In that moment, a decision crystallized in my heart. I was leaving Liam Foster. … I went to a barbershop and had them shave my head properly, evening it out. Then I booked a cheap room at a motel. When I returned to the apartment to pack my things, Liam was there, looking exhausted. His eyes landed on the suitcase in my hand, and his face instantly soured. He strode forward and kicked my suitcase, sending it skidding across the floor. “How long are you going to keep this act up?” he demanded. “The doctor said Dolores’s condition has worsened. It’s all your fault for agitating her! I haven’t even dealt with you yet, and you’re the one playing the victim?” I laughed, a bitter, humorless sound. “So Dolores’s cancer is my fault now? Liam, do you even hear the stupid things you’re saying?” He seemed taken aback, probably because he’d never heard me use that tone with him before. He just stood there, momentarily speechless. I ignored him, picked up my suitcase, and continued packing. I didn’t have much. After living here for eight years, everything I owned barely filled two 26-inch suitcases. I glanced at Liam, who was watching me in silence. “Whenever you get around to sending the money for the hair,” I said casually, “I’ll pay my share of the rent.” 3 “You think I need your pathetic rent money?” Liam grabbed my arm, his grip like iron, his face a thundercloud. “Ava, have you had enough of this drama? Do you seriously think you can support yourself alone?” He shook his head in disgust. “I swear, I don’t know what goes on in that head of yours! I buy you skincare, you don’t use it. I buy you jewelry, you don’t wear it. I ask you to dress better, and you come up with a million excuses!” Every time we fought, it was the same old story. He’d bring up the skincare, forgetting it made my skin break out in hives. He’d complain about the jewelry, ignoring the time his friends mocked me, claiming it was a cheap knockoff. He’d criticize my ‘drab’ clothes, completely disregarding that my government job had a conservative dress code. When I didn’t respond, his words grew even more reckless. “What, nothing to say? Or are you planning to run back to your dead-end hometown and get married off?!” That last sentence struck me like a physical blow. I stared at him, my eyes wide with disbelief. After my high school graduation, my family had tried to lock me up and marry me off for cash. It was Liam who had saved me, who had pulled me from that hell. He had promised that as long as he was around, no one would ever hurt me again. He seemed to have forgotten that promise. He had become just as cruel and ugly as the people he’d once saved me from. My family background was a mess. I was frugal by nature. But what was so wrong with that? Tears welled in my eyes, and my heart felt like it was being squeezed in a vise. I didn’t say a word. I finally, completely understood. Liam Foster was a lost cause. He would die before ever admitting he was wrong. I grabbed my suitcase, determined to leave. Liam exploded. He seized the suitcase and hurled it to the ground with all his might. The latches burst, and the case split open, spilling my neatly folded clothes onto the floor. “Liam, we’re broken up! Who gave you the right to touch my things?” He yanked me back by the arm. His strength was immense, and my head slammed into the sharp corner of a table. A sudden, hot stream of liquid flooded my vision. I blinked frantically, but all I could see was a blur. Liam panicked, rushing towards me. “Ava, don’t be scared, I’m taking you to the hospital right now.” Just then, his phone rang. Dolores’s weak, faint voice crackled through the speaker. “Liam… I’m outside your building… I’m coughing up blood. What do I do? It hurts so much.” The color drained from Liam’s face. He let go of my arm. “Ava, just wait for me. Dolores’s having an attack. I have to get her to the hospital first!” Blood was pouring into my eyes. All I could see was a hazy silhouette in front of me. I grabbed onto his leg, trying to stop him. “Liam, I can’t see. Please, just call an ambulance for me…” Without a second thought, he kicked me away. “I told you to fucking wait! Are you deaf?!” he screamed. “Can’t you wait for one damn minute? Are you in such a hurry to die?!” The force of the kick knocked the wind out of me, and I couldn’t get up. Liam was already gone. The front door slammed shut with a final, resounding bang.

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My brother Alex worships me. When we were ten, kidnappers took me instead of him. They scarred my face and broke my legs before letting me go. Alex rebuilt our father’s crumbling empire into a weapon. To him, I became sacred—insult me, and you died. A man called me a freak. Alex fed him to starving rats. Another mocked my limp. He crushed him under a steamroller. To Port Sterling, Alex was the Boogeyman. To me, he was just my brother—the man who sent me abroad for surgeries, therapy, and an education far from our bloody legacy. Before I returned home, he sent an engagement announcement: “Soon you’ll have a sister to spoil you too.” But when I arrived at the villa he bought me, his fiancée Veronica stormed in, convinced I was his mistress. Alex found me broken on the floor as she sobbed: “Am I nothing compared to this whore?” His eyes burned. “How many lives do you have to compare to hers?” … CRASH! The floor-to-ceiling window of the villa imploded, spraying glass across the marble floor. A pack of wolves in human skin barged in, their faces twisted with aggression. At their head was a woman whose face I recognized instantly from the photo Alex had sent me just days ago. My future sister-in-law, Veronica. Before I could even form a greeting, her face contorted with fury. She hefted a crowbar and swung it, the metal crashing against my face. A sickening crunch echoed in my skull, followed by a gush of warmth over my lips. I touched my face. Blood. The unexpected blow sent the world spinning. “There you are, you little bitch,” she spat, her voice dripping with venom. “Finally crawled out of your hole. I was starting to think you’d hide overseas forever!” While I was still reeling, she swung again, the crowbar slamming into my head and ribs. Pain exploded through me. I stumbled back, trying to shield my head, and tripped, collapsing onto the floor. “You don’t understand, I’m—” My words were cut short as Veronica jammed the end of the crowbar into my mouth, ramming it forward twice with vicious force. A sharp, metallic agony tore through my cheeks, and the coppery tang of blood flooded my throat. I choked, spitting out a mouthful of red. “I understand perfectly!” she shrieked, her eyes wild. “Don’t think I don’t know you wheedled Alex into buying you this place! You knew we were getting engaged, and you came crawling back to wreck it. Or, at the very least, stick around as his prized little slut, right?” “Today, you’re going to learn what happens when you cross me!” She kicked me, sending me sprawling. The back of my head struck the sharp corner of the coffee table, and a fresh wave of pain erupted as the skin split open. Panic and rage warred within me. I swallowed the blood pooling in my mouth and forced out the words. “You’re wrong! I’m Alex Sterling’s sister! His actual sister! He sent me a message a few days ago, telling me to come back for the engagement party…” Veronica froze for a second. One of the brutes behind her leaned in and muttered, “Boss, I have heard that Mr. Sterling has a sister who’s been abroad for years. We’ve never seen her, but the rumor is they’re twins.” Veronica’s eyes swept over my face with contempt. “Twins? This little whore looks nothing like Alex.” Just then, another figure entered the villa. It was Rose, one of my brother’s most trusted lieutenants. A veteran of the Sterling Crew. She would recognize me! “Rose! It’s me, Chloe!” I cried out, my voice thick and mangled. Rose paused, her gaze finding me on the floor. “Who’s this? How does she know my name?” she asked, confused. But Veronica didn’t give her time to think. She swung the crowbar again, a brutal, silencing blow across my mouth. The pain was so intense I couldn’t make another sound. “She’s the little bitch I told you about,” Veronica said smoothly. “Must have overheard one of the boys talking to you.” Rose shook her head slowly. “No… she said her name was Chloe. That’s the name of the boss’s sister. No one outside the inner circle would know that.” She strode toward me and gripped my chin, her eyes scrutinizing my features. “This face… it’s not her.” My heart sank. She hadn’t seen me since the surgeries. “Wait,” Rose said, her eyes widening slightly. “The young miss was sent away for reconstructive surgery. Has your face… been worked on?” I nodded frantically, a desperate hope surging through me. Yes, it’s me! I’m Chloe Sterling! Veronica scoffed from the side. “She’s a gold digger who lives by her looks. Of course she’s had work done. It’s practically a job requirement.” Rose held up a hand to silence her. “A face can be faked. An identity can’t. Search her.” Two of the goons grabbed me. I thrashed wildly, but Veronica slapped me hard across the face. “Hold still.” They bound my wrists, and the rough hands of the goons pawed at me, a profound violation. All my life, Alex had ensured no one laid a finger on me. If he knew about this, their hands would already be feeding the dogs. Rose watched, a flicker of caution in her eyes. “What if you’re wrong? If she really is his sister, we’re all dead.” Veronica just smiled, lighting a cigarette she offered to Rose. “Relax. I’m about to marry Alex. Even if I roughed up his sister in a fit of jealous passion, he’d see it as proof of how much I care. He’ll forgive me.” Rose took a drag from the cigarette and nodded. “True.” Soon, they found my wallet. Veronica snatched it and burst out laughing. “See? I told you the little bitch was lying.” Rose leaned in, reading my ID aloud. “Tina Chen.” She then flipped open my university diploma. “Enrolled as Tina.” “It’s a fake,” Rose declared, her voice turning to ice. “The boss’s sister is named Chloe Sterling. And he sent her to South Korea for her recovery, not England.” A cold dread washed over me. After the kidnapping, to protect me, Alex had moved me off the family records and given me our mother’s surname. He never wanted me to be a target again. He hadn’t told a soul. He had even faked my destination. Oh, Alex, I thought in despair. Your protection is going to get me killed. Rose’s expression hardened. “This bitch dared to impersonate the boss’s sister. Teach her a lesson.” They threw me to the ground and began to kick and punch me. In the chaos, my phone skittered out of my pocket, its screen lighting up. The lock screen was a photo of Alex and me, smiling together. Rose’s face went pale. “Wait!” She picked up the phone, her hand trembling. “Is this yours?” I nodded desperately. Veronica sneered, “It’s just a picture, Rose. She probably photoshopped it.” I grunted, trying to gesture for Rose to unlock the phone. She understood, holding it up to my face. It unlocked with facial recognition, and she swiped into my messages, finding my chat history with Alex. “She really has him saved as ‘Brother’!” Rose exclaimed. Veronica grabbed the phone. “Every gold-digging tramp calls her sugar daddy ‘daddy’ or ‘brother’! Don’t fall for it!” She scrolled up, and her face darkened with rage. “What the hell? Not only did he buy you a villa, he calls you ‘sweetheart’ and says he never wants to be apart from you again?” She looked at me, her eyes burning with a new level of hatred. “He’s really setting you up as his permanent little plaything!” I wanted to explain—that he was my only family, that he just wanted me home—but the pain in my mouth was a gag, silencing me. No one had ever dared to touch me, and now his own fiancée had beaten me half to death while his own people stood by, unable to even recognize me. Alex, it hurts so much. The thought brought a fresh wave of silent tears. Rose watched me, a frown creasing her brow. “You know, her temperament is a lot like the young miss. Can’t stand the slightest grievance, cries at the drop of a hat.” She hesitated. “Maybe we should double-check. The boss is fiercely protective of his sister. If she’s the real deal, he’ll have our heads.” Veronica nodded, considering it. “Fine. I’ll call him.” Her face twisted into a menacing mask. “If she’s really Alex’s sister, I’ll take full responsibility. But if she’s not…” Her voice dropped to a terrifying whisper. “I’ll make this little bitch regret the day she was born.” She had one of the men gag me properly, then dialed Alex’s number. “Hey, honey,” she cooed into the phone. “You mentioned your sister was coming back for our engagement party. Do you know exactly when she’s getting in? I want to get her a welcome gift, so I was just wondering.” Alex’s voice, warm and familiar, came through the speaker. “That’s thoughtful of you. She said she’ll be here tomorrow night.” My blood ran cold. It’s over. I had changed my flight to today to surprise him. Veronica’s eyes locked on mine, gleaming with vicious triumph. If she hung up now, I was dead. I bit down. Hard. The man holding the gag over my mouth yelped in pain and his hand flew back. “Alex, help me!” I screamed, pouring every last ounce of my strength into the cry. Veronica’s face turned white with rage. She lunged forward, kicking me down and grinding her high heel into my mouth. On the phone, Alex sounded hesitant. “Did I just hear someone yell for help?” Veronica forced a laugh. “It’s just the TV. Anyway, if your sister’s almost here, I’d better go shopping. I’ll talk to you later.” She hung up. The last of my hope died with the click. The pressure of her heel intensified, grinding into the wounds in my mouth. “You lying, scheming whore,” she hissed. “You almost had me.” Tears of pain and despair streamed down my face, which only seemed to fuel her rage. Her eyes, full of a venomous jealousy, raked over me. “It’s this face, isn’t it?” she whispered. “This is how you bewitched him. He was ready to marry me, and he still bought you a mansion.” One of the goons behind her spoke up cautiously. “It’s not that surprising. A guy like the boss… they all have a girl on the side. Since he seems to like her, maybe we should just let her go? You’re the one he’s marrying. You’re the real First Lady. Maybe just turn a blind eye?” Rose chimed in. “He’s right. You’re the one with the ring. She’ll never be more than a fling.” For a moment, Veronica seemed to consider it, a flicker of logic piercing her rage. My heart filled with a bitter, searing injustice. I was his sister, beaten and broken for being mistaken for a mistress. Alex had terrible taste in women. The first thing I would do when I saw him was demand he call off this sham of an engagement. My resentful glare must have been obvious because Veronica’s wavering resolve hardened into fury. “You dare to look at me like that? You little bitch!” she snarled. “Even if I don’t kill you today, I’m going to ruin you!” She pulled her foot back, and from her jacket, she produced a knife. Its blade glinted as she brought it toward my face. “No!” I shrieked, the sound muffled and wet. But my terror only spurred her on. “When you’re an ugly monster,” she seethed, her voice a low, terrifying growl, “Alex will finally see that I’m the only one he should love!” White-hot agony lanced across my skin as she began to draw the blade across my cheek, again and again. The pain was blinding, nearly sending me into unconsciousness. This face… Alex had spent a fortune and three years of painstaking work with the world’s best surgeons to give it back to me. And she was destroying it. He would never, ever forgive her for this. “You’re… dead…” I managed to choke out through gritted teeth. My defiance shattered her last shred of sanity. “You fucking dare to threaten me?” she screamed, and brought the knife down to my mouth. “Let’s see you talk now!” A searing, numbing pain ripped across my lips. I couldn’t form another word. She raised the knife again, but froze as footsteps echoed from outside. “Boss? What are you doing here?” It was Alex. Alex was here! I tried to push myself up, but a fresh wave of agony shot through my leg as Veronica slammed the crowbar into the back of my knee, and I collapsed. Rose’s face went white. “Hide her! If the boss sees this, he’ll lose it. Quick!” Veronica and two of the goons dragged me into the adjacent kitchen, sliding the frosted glass door shut just as Alex stepped into the main room. “Rose, I thought I told you to get this place ready. Where are the furnishings?” Alex’s voice was crisp, businesslike. “We just got here, boss. Everything’s still in the truck. I’ll have the boys bring it in now.” Rose herded the remaining goons out of the villa, leaving Alex alone to inspect his work. “Hmm, the renovations turned out well,” he mused to himself. “She’s going to love it.” He turned. “Is this the kitchen?” He was walking toward the door. Through the frosted glass, I could see his silhouette, a dark, powerful shape. Tears streamed from my eyes. Alex, please, get in here. Save me. The door slid open. His eyes fell first on Veronica, hiding in the corner, then on me, a bloody, bound heap on the floor. His face changed instantly. “Veronica? What are you doing here?” Then, his gaze fixed on me, his brow furrowed in disgust and confusion. “Who is she? Why is she covered in blood?” Alex, it’s me! Look at me! I was bound, unable to move, but I began to squirm on the floor, trying to drag myself toward him. Veronica kicked me in the face. “Stay down, you bitch!” The blow sent stars dancing in my vision, but I forced out a desperate, broken sound. “A… lex…” Enraged, she kicked my mouth again. “How dare you call him that in front of me!” But he had heard me. Alex’s entire body went rigid. He crouched down, his eyes scanning my mangled face, trying to see past the blood and swelling. Before he could recognize me, Veronica spoke, her voice suddenly trembling and fragile. “Darling, you don’t have to say it. I know who she is. She’s the canary you’ve been keeping overseas, isn’t she?” She gestured around the room. “And this villa… it’s for her. I shouldn’t have been upset. A man as successful as you… it’s only natural you’d have a secret little nest.” Her eyes welled with tears, her voice cracking with practiced sorrow. “I just wanted to see her. To understand what makes her so special, what makes you love her so much. I thought… I thought maybe I could learn from her. Be more like her. Then maybe you would love me a little more, too…” Her choked sobs seemed to move him. He stood and pulled her into his arms. “Don’t be ridiculous,” he said softly. “I told you, you’re the only one for me. Why else would I be marrying you?” He sighed. “This house is for my sister. Chloe. She’s coming home tomorrow, remember? I wanted it to be a surprise, so I didn’t tell anyone. You misunderstood.” He held Veronica at arm’s length. “But you still haven’t told me who this is. I don’t keep canaries, Veronica.” A look of dawning horror crossed Veronica’s face as the pieces clicked into place. She was white as a sheet. “She… she’s just some bitch who crossed me. Rose and I were… teaching her a lesson.” Alex frowned. “She crossed you? Then she deserves a lesson. But why would you bring her into my sister’s house? That’s bad luck. This place is tainted with blood before she’s even spent a night in it. It’s a bad omen.” His stern tone made Veronica tremble. “I know. I’m sorry. I’ll have my men drag her out and… clean up. And I’ll personally apologize to Chloe tomorrow. She won’t hold it against me, right, darling?” Alex’s expression softened into a fond smile. “Chloe has a good heart. She won’t blame you.” Two of the goons moved to lift me. My mind screamed in panic. Veronica’s idea of “cleaning up” was to silence me permanently. She couldn’t be sure if I was Chloe or not, but she couldn’t afford to take the chance. I thrashed violently, trying to break free, and earned another slap for my efforts. “Take this bitch out and finish it!” Veronica snapped. Just then, Rose re-entered the kitchen, holding something. Seeing the tense atmosphere, she immediately tried to curry favor with Alex. “Boss, don’t be angry. We didn’t want to get blood on the floor, but this little bitch wouldn’t back down. She kept insisting she was your sister…”

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1 For five years, my husband, the billionaire Joshua Archer, treated me like a goddess. He’d kneel to paint my toenails, wept as he offered me his own kidney after a car crash—he cherished me, his queen. But as his mistress, a woman I didn’t recognize, had me bound like an animal and kicked me across the manicured lawn of a country club, he didn’t see me. Instead, he stood beside her, clapping his hands in delight. “Go on, darling, give it a good swing! Using a pregnant woman as a golf ball… imagine the follow-through on that! It must be exhilarating!” I screamed, a raw, ragged sound of agony, crying out for my husband, for my mother. But my mother, who was also there, simply wrinkled her nose in disgust and shoved a silk handkerchief from her purse into my mouth, silencing me. And my husband? He snatched the golf club from the other woman’s hands and swung it, hard, into my swollen belly. As I lay dying on the grass, the mistress ripped off her mask. “Sister,” she purred, “how do you like your birthday gift?” Cold sweat mingled with bright red blood, dripping onto the pristine green. I forced my eyes open, staring, just staring, at the man before me. An hour ago, he had washed the scent of another woman from his skin and knelt by our bed, whispering, “Thank you for your love, my queen,” his eyes glazed with sated desire. Now, he watched with cold amusement as his mistress tortured me. The nylon ropes had already chafed my wrists and ankles raw. The slender metal of the golf club struck my body again and again, each blow leaving a bloody welt, until I felt like my bones were being pulled from their sockets. Every cell in my body screamed in pain. “That poor woman must’ve crossed the wrong people,” a voice murmured from the clubhouse patio. “Mrs. Archer seems to be in a foul mood today. Looks like it’ll be two for the price of one…” “Anyone who gets into this club is someone important. Who’s the man who brought her here?” The whispers of the onlookers were laced with a cold detachment, a desire not to get involved. But none of them knew. The man who had just swung at me with the most vicious force, the man who was treating my body like a game… He was my husband. Today was my birthday. Joshua had cleared his entire schedule to be with me. Then a call came through—a major client had arrived, and he had to go. He’d spent half an hour kissing me, apologizing, and whispering sweet promises before he left. When I found his phone on the nightstand, I didn’t bother calling his assistant. I just grabbed it and drove to the club myself. The moment I stepped inside, a woman in a mask, her face vaguely familiar, intercepted me. Before I could process what was happening, her men seized me. I fought back, screaming that I was Mrs. Archer, Joshua Archer’s wife. Her eyes glinted with a cruel light as she ordered her men to bind me into a ball and roll me onto the putting green. Her voice was a low, mocking laugh. “What a coincidence. I’m Mrs. Archer, too. And since I’m standing right here, what does that make you? A liar?” The women behind her sneered. “Everyone knows Joshua Archer worships his wife. I swear, every woman in this city wants to be the next Mrs. Archer. This one clearly doesn’t have what it takes, but she’s certainly got the delusion down.” The masked woman used the toe of her designer shoe to stop my spinning body. Her smile was pure venom. “Let’s make a little wager. If Joshua recognizes you, I’ll let you go. If he doesn’t… you’re all mine.” I was certain. The moment he saw me, he would know. But that certainty evaporated into thin air when I saw him walk onto the green and press a tender kiss to her forehead. “Darling,” she said, her voice cloying sweet, “this woman’s belly is so big and round. It’s the perfect golf ball. Let me practice my swing.” “Of course, my love. Whatever Mrs. Archer wants, Mrs. Archer gets.” He tweaked her nose with a fondness I knew so well. It felt like a nightmare. He hadn’t recognized me. He hadn’t even truly looked at me. His world was completely filled by her. If she was Mrs. Archer, then what was I? What were our years of whispered secrets and shared dreams? What was the child growing inside me? My chest felt like it would explode. An icy dread, sharp as needles, crept up from the soles of my feet. I swallowed the blood pooling in my throat and, clinging to one last, desperate shred of hope, I forced out a single word. “Jo…shua!” He glanced over. For a heart-stopping second, I thought he saw me. But then he sneered, his voice dripping with contempt. “Is this woman insane? Calling any man she sees ‘honey’? The desperation is pathetic.” He gestured to the woman beside him. “See this? The only woman in the world who gets to call me her husband is her. What the hell are you? You’re not worthy.” A vicious kick followed his words, landing squarely on my stomach. The world exploded in a starburst of white-hot pain, and a wave of cold sweat drenched my body. 2 I gasped for air, staring at him in utter disbelief. Just last night, he had rested his head on my pregnant belly, his laughter warm against my skin. “My love,” he’d whispered, “whether it’s a boy or a girl, you and our child are the center of my universe…” Just this morning, he’d kissed me until I was breathless, making me say his name a hundred times before he’d let me out of bed. But now, holding another woman’s hand, he was sneering that I wasn’t worthy. Of course. The treasure, the goddess, the center of his universe—it was all fake. The only things that were real were the lies. And the affair. The golf club in his hand came down on me again and again. My stomach slammed against the hard ground, and a gush of amniotic fluid and blood soaked the grass beneath me. I was no longer a person; I was just a human ball, rolling back and forth until I was completely covered in my own blood. Through a hazy, red-tinged fog, I saw my mother approaching, holding a coat, speaking softly to the other woman. A desperate need for rescue drowned out all reason. I choked out a cry. “Mom… help me! Mom!” The masked woman didn’t stop me. A strange, knowing smile played on her lips. My mother glanced at me, clutching her nose as if offended by the smell. “My eldest daughter, Seraphina, is resting comfortably at home,” she said, her voice cold. “And my youngest is right here beside me. You are neither. Stop your disgusting squawking, you filthy sow… it’s utterly deafening.” A bolt of lightning shot through my head, feeling as if my brain had just imploded. The next second, a scented handkerchief was brutally shoved into my mouth, choking off my cries, leaving me to make only muffled, guttural sounds. My heart seized. An immense, crushing wave of grief and pain threatened to shatter me completely. Just a few days ago, when I’d had a scare with some abdominal pain, she had sat by my bedside for twenty-four hours straight, sleepless. She’d been frantic, babbling incoherently as she prayed to every saint in the book, bargaining with God for my health and the baby’s. She’d even gone to a shrine and knelt until her forehead was bruised, all for us. The scab on her forehead hadn’t even fully healed. How could she… how could she not recognize me? I didn’t believe it. I couldn’t. Tears streamed down my face. I choked back a sob, my throat raw, and screamed against the gag, a silent, desperate plea. Mom! Look at me! Please, just look closer! It’s me, Elara! Your daughter, the one you raised for over twenty years! But she didn’t give me a second glance. She was the one who had silenced my pleas for help. And now she was standing there, laughing and talking intimately with my executioner. The air was thick with the jeering laughter of the onlookers. A tearing, violent pain ripped through my lower abdomen, a heavy, pulling agony. My mind went blank, and through the haze, I thought I could hear the sound of a baby’s heart-wrenching cries from within me. My baby. I have to save my baby. With the last of my strength, I fixed my cloudy eyes on the man standing nearby. I forced his name through my bruised lips. “Jo… sh… ua!” He paused, turning to look at me. His voice was as soft as a lover’s whisper, but the words were the cruelest I had ever heard. “Get rid of this sow. The way she looks at me… it’s disgusting. She’s actually trying to seduce me.” Just before he left the house, he’d whispered in my ear, “My love, do you know why I love you so much? I can’t stand a single second without you. I miss you already.” He didn’t miss me. He wanted me dead. The last flicker of hope inside me trembled and died. Just as my world dissolved into gray ash, the woman leaned in close and ripped off her mask. “Sister,” she whispered, “how do you like your birthday gift?” I was dragged away like a sack of garbage and dumped outside the club gates. A kind passerby saw my state—a pregnant woman, beaten and bloody—and rushed me to the hospital. He pulled the handkerchief from my mouth. “Miss! Who did this to you? Where’s your family? Your husband?” My lips trembled. My mouth was filled with blood. I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t tell him. The man who beat me was the husband who swore he loved me more than life itself. The people who orchestrated my demise were the family I had lived with for over twenty years. The emergency room doctors saw my near-dead state and rushed me straight into surgery, shouting, “Pregnant woman, massive hemorrhage, needs type B-negative blood, now!” “We’re out of B-negative in the blood bank!” a young nurse called back, her face pale. The door swung open. A familiar figure stepped inside. “I’ll give her blood,” he said. “I’m B-negative.” I trembled, forcing my eyes open. It was my father, in his white doctor’s coat. My heart hammered against my ribs, and my eyes burned with unshed tears. 3 My father had to recognize me! He was giving me his blood! Just last night, he had driven through a thunderstorm to bring me my birthday present. He’d told me he’d gone to a remote monastery, a place of pilgrimage, and had a silver locket blessed by a reclusive monk, a charm to keep me and the baby safe. His face had been slick with rain, his brow etched with exhaustion, but his eyes, full of love, had been brighter than I’d ever seen them. My lips quivered as I managed a single, broken word. “Dad…” His gaze, sharp and cold behind his glasses, met mine. “Who are you calling Dad? I have two daughters. My eldest is at home celebrating her birthday, and my youngest is at the golf club. Don’t just call any man you see ‘Dad.’ It’s pathetic.” My mouth hung open. I was a clown in a tragedy of my own making. His words were a lightning strike that vaporized my entire world, turning my flesh and blood to ash. He… he didn’t recognize me either? Was it all a lie? All the years of affection, the whispered endearments of “my sweet girl,” “my darling Elara”… was all of it fake? My heart twisted in agony. I wanted to scream. Dad, save me. Save my baby. It’s your grandchild. But his next sentence plunged me straight into the ninth circle of hell. “My son-in-law just called. Seraphina’s old heart palpitations are acting up again…” He looked down at me, his face a clinical mask.

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Five years ago, I walked out on Ethan Hayes. His career was just taking off, and I left him. Turned around and married an old man. Five years later, at a college reunion, Ethan’s a success story, and I’m… well, I’m a mess. Later, in the semi-darkness of a rooftop, he asked me, his voice rough, “Leaving me like that… you happy now, Ava?” 1. I was rushing to the hospital, practically sprinting, when I slammed right into someone. The papers he was holding scattered everywhere. “Oh, I’m so sorry! Are you okay?” I dropped down to help him gather the files, and the ugly bruises and cuts on my hands were suddenly right there, under the harsh fluorescent light. “Ava?” Ethan’s voice was hesitant, testing the name. He grabbed my hand gently. “What happened to your hand?” My fingers froze on a stray document. That voice… so familiar. It was the first time I’d seen him in five years. Never thought it would be like this. “No, I… you’ve got the wrong person.” I snatched my hand back, my instinct screaming to run, but he caught me, pulling me into a hug. His voice was hoarse, thick with emotion. “I’d never mistake you. You’re Ava!” “Ouch…” I hissed, sucking in a breath. He was holding me tight, and the hidden injuries on my body throbbed in protest. He pulled back immediately, his eyes scanning me, finally noticing the other marks, the ones peeking out from my sleeve. “Ava, what happened to you? The cuts… I need to get you to the ER.” Ethan took me to the hospital and stayed with me the whole time. The nurse who treated my cuts was an older woman, kind but blunt. “Honey, we need to get an X-ray of this arm, make sure nothing’s broken. And that burn on your hand – keep it dry, okay?” She looked pointedly at Ethan, her expression shifting to disapproval and suspicion. “You know, young man, you look like such a nice, respectable guy. I wouldn’t have figured you for someone who gets rough like this.” Ethan just stared at me, looking completely bewildered. I saw the nurse’s judging eyes and knew what she was thinking. I quickly jumped in. “Oh, no, you misunderstand. He didn’t do this.” “Sweetie,” she said, lowering her voice slightly, “domestic abuse is illegal. You don’t have to be scared. We have resources, people who can help. Do you want me to call the police for you?” I shook my head quickly. “No, really. Thank you for your concern, though.” The nurse sighed, a flicker of frustration in her eyes, but she didn’t push. “Okay, well… let’s get you over to radiology for that X-ray.” After the X-ray confirmed no broken bones, just deep bruising and the nasty burn, Ethan led me outside to a small hospital garden. He lit a cigarette, took a long, deep drag, and exhaled slowly, the smoke mingling with the scent of antiseptic and damp earth. The air crackled with unspoken questions. He finished the cigarette, stubbed it out, but still seemed wound tight, his eyes bloodshot as he finally looked at me. “Ava Miller. Aren’t you going to tell me what the hell is going on?” I didn’t answer, just looked at him, my expression carefully neutral. I’d honestly thought I’d never see Ethan Hayes again. “You didn’t used to smoke,” I said quietly. “Ava, do you even have a heart?” His voice cracked, raw with emotion. “You disappeared without a word back then… was this the life you left me for?” He grabbed my shoulders, his grip tight, desperation and a deep, aching sadness swimming in his eyes. “It’s getting late,” I said, pulling away gently. “I should go home. Thanks for… for today. Take care of yourself, Ethan.” Without waiting for a reply, I turned and walked away, not looking back. Ethan and I met in college. I was a freshman; he was a senior assigned to help orient the new students. I was instantly drawn to him. It took all my courage, but I got his number and started messaging him constantly, checking in, asking how he was, finding excuses to bump into him, making sure he noticed me. Eventually, I confessed how I felt, and to my shock and delight, he said yes. My roommates always teased me, saying I landed the campus heartthrob through sheer shameless persistence… I could see it in his eyes today – Ethan still had feelings for me. But me? I’d fallen so far, dragged myself through hell. How could I possibly deserve someone like him now? 2 When I got back to the house, Arthur Morgan was sitting on the sofa, a dark, thunderous look on his face. “Where have you been?” “Just picking up some medication from the pharmacy,” I lied, trying to edge past him toward the bedroom. But Arthur was in a mood, maybe suspicious, maybe just needing an outlet. He shot up and grabbed a fistful of my hair, yanking my head back. “Who told you you could go to a hospital?” His voice was low, menacing. “Were you trying to tell everyone what I do to you?” I clawed at his hand, my voice trembling. “No! You’ve misunderstood. I didn’t say anything. Arthur, please, let go.” He shoved me away, and I stumbled, catching myself on the wall. He dusted off his hands as if he’d touched something dirty. “You wouldn’t dare!” With that parting shot, Arthur grabbed his keys and left. I slid down the wall until I was huddled on the floor, tears finally breaking free, silent drops tracing paths down my cheeks… A few days later, my phone rang. It was Chloe, an old college friend. “Ava? It’s Chloe! Hey, there’s a reunion happening next weekend. Are you gonna come?” My first instinct was to say no, absolutely not. But before I could get the word out, Chloe rushed on. “Ava, seriously, you just vanished sophomore year. I finally tracked down your number. Please come? I really want to see you.” My hand tightened on the phone. Chloe had been my best friend back then. When my family situation imploded, I never even got to say a proper goodbye. After a moment’s hesitation, I gave in. “Okay. Yeah, okay. Text me the details.” The reunion was at some downtown bar with karaoke rooms. When I walked in, the place was already packed. Chloe spotted me immediately and threw her arms around me. “Ava! You actually came! Oh my god, I’ve missed you so much!” I found a seat on a couch, trying to fade into the background. These kinds of gatherings weren’t my scene anymore. Too much pressure, too much pretending. College reunions are mostly about comparing lives, seeing who’s climbed higher. A woman I vaguely recognized, wearing a very flashy outfit, suddenly turned her attention to me. “Ava Miller… I remember you dropped out sophomore year, right? What are you doing now?” “I’m not working,” I mumbled. “Just… at home.” Chloe looked at me, surprised. “Ava, you… are you married?” I nodded stiffly. Someone else chimed in. “Wait, Ava, weren’t you dating Ethan Hayes back then? The law student?” “Yeah!” another voice added. “You probably haven’t heard, Ava, but Ethan’s huge now. Like, one of the top lawyers in the state. Super successful.” I forced a small, tight smile. “That was a long time ago.” Crash! Someone dropped a glass. I didn’t look up, just kept my eyes fixed on my lap. Then a tall shadow fell over me, blocking the dim light. 3 Someone dropped a glass. I didn’t look up, just kept my eyes fixed on my lap. Then a tall shadow fell over me, blocking the dim light. I glanced up, and before I could react, a hand grabbed my arm, pulling me to my feet. He dragged me out of the noisy room, through the bar, and into the cool night air. Only then did I see clearly – it was Ethan. I struggled against his grip. “Ethan, let go of me!” He ignored me, his jaw tight, pulling me toward the building’s service elevator. He didn’t stop until we were on the rooftop terrace, the city lights spread out below us. Only then did he release my arm. “So,” he said, his voice dangerously quiet. “The bruises, the cuts… it’s your husband, isn’t it?” I nodded slowly. There didn’t seem to be any point in lying anymore. “When did you get married?” “Five years ago.” Ethan’s handsome face hardened, the lines around his mouth deepening. It had been exactly five years since I’d broken up with him. He laughed, a short, bitter sound devoid of any humor. “So, you broke up with me and immediately turned around and married someone else?” His voice rose, laced with pain and disbelief. “Ava! Did you ever even love me?” I remained silent. Of course, I loved Ethan. I’d never stopped. But saying it now felt pointless, irrelevant. Ethan walked to the edge of the rooftop, looking down at the streams of headlights on the street below. He lit another cigarette, smoked it down to the filter in tense silence, then spoke without turning around. “Ava… haven’t you ever thought about leaving him? Getting a divorce?” His voice was softer now, laced with confusion. “He treats you like this… why are you still with him?” I managed a wry, humorless smile. Divorce? If only it were that easy. I’d tried more than once. None of them stuck. I shook my head, refusing to answer. Ethan’s frustration flared, and he turned and stalked back towards the elevator, leaving me alone on the roof. After a few minutes, I went back down, exchanged numbers with Chloe, and left too. On the way home, Chloe texted me. Hey, btw, Ethan actually gave me your number. He asked me to invite you. I had no idea you were married. I typed back: I figured. I turned off my phone after that. It wasn’t a huge leap. Chloe suddenly finding my number just days after I’d run into Ethan? She never had it before. Truthfully? I think I agreed to come tonight because I wanted to see him again, too. 4 It was past midnight when I finally got home. As I switched on the lights, my heart leaped into my throat. Arthur was sitting on the sofa in the dark, his eyes fixed on me with a chilling intensity. I flinched, then forced myself to sound calm. “Arthur? Why are you sitting in the dark?” “Why are you back so late?” His tone was flat, dangerously calm, which was always worse than yelling. Warning bells screamed in my head. I opened my mouth to explain, but it was too late. Arthur stood up and walked towards me. The stench of alcohol hit me like a wave; he was clearly drunk. I instinctively took a step back, which only seemed to enrage him. He grabbed my wrist, his grip like iron, and slapped me hard across the face. The force snapped my head back. “You shameless tramp!” he snarled, his face inches from mine. “Who were you out screwing around with?” I shook my head, tears stinging my eyes. “Arthur, please, calm down. Let me go.” But reasoning with him when he was drunk was impossible. He started hitting me again, landing blows on my arms and shoulders. Maybe it was the alcohol making him clumsy, or maybe it was pure adrenaline, but I managed to shove him hard. He stumbled backward, lost his balance, and crashed to the floor. I didn’t hesitate. I turned and ran, bolting out the front door, not even stopping to grab my shoes or purse. I’d just reached the edge of the condo complex, gasping for breath, when a sleek black Bentley pulled up silently beside me. The tinted window slid down, and Ethan’s sharp profile came into view. His expression was grim. “Get in.” My first instinct was to refuse, but he cut me off, his voice low and urgent. “Unless you want your picture plastered all over the gossip sites looking like this tomorrow morning, get in the car, Ava.” I looked down at myself – barefoot, wearing only a thin dress, no phone, no wallet. I really had nowhere else to go. I climbed into the passenger seat. The leather was cool against my skin. Ethan immediately leaned over, his arm brushing mine as he clicked my seatbelt into place. His proximity was overwhelming. “He hit you again?” His voice was tight. I nodded, unable to speak past the lump in my throat. “Just… take me somewhere. Anywhere.” The drive was silent, the tension thick enough to cut. Ethan drove to an upscale apartment building across town, pulling into the secure underground garage. He parked, and I reached for the door handle, but his voice stopped me. “Wait.” I looked at him, confused. He got out, walked around to my side, and opened the door. Before I could react, he scooped me up into his arms. “You don’t have shoes on,” he said gruffly. “Don’t walk on this dirty floor.” “Thanks…” The word came out as a choked whisper. I suddenly felt tears welling up. It had been so long since anyone had shown me even the smallest kindness. I leaned my head against his chest, inhaling the faint, familiar scent of his cologne mixed with cigarette smoke. For the first time in years, I felt a flicker of safety. “How did you… how did you know where I was?” I asked softly as he carried me towards the elevator. “I said I was just passing by, right? Would you believe that?” I shook my head slightly against his shoulder. Of course, I didn’t. My neighborhood was nowhere near his usual routes. Ethan sighed, a heavy sound. “I followed you home from the reunion. I needed to know where you were living.” He carried me into his apartment, the door clicking shut behind us, and gently set me down on a plush sofa. “This is my place. You can stay here tonight.” He added quickly, “Don’t worry, I live alone. It’s no trouble.” “Okay. Thank you, Ethan.” 5 Ethan brought me a glass of water, then retrieved a first-aid kit from the bathroom. He knelt in front of me and gently started cleaning the cut on my cheek. “Ava,” he said softly, his eyes meeting mine, “divorce him. He doesn’t deserve you.” I was silent for a long time. Finally, I looked at him. “Ethan… are you any good at divorce cases?” His eyes, which had been shadowed with concern, instantly lit up with a fierce determination. “Ava. For you? I can do anything.” He hesitated, then asked gently, “If… if you’re comfortable, can you tell me what happened? How did you end up with him?” So, I told him. “My parents… they ran a business, you remember? My sophomore year, they were on the verge of bankruptcy. Arthur Morgan—that’s my husband—he offered my dad a bailout, a huge sum of money. But there was a condition.” I took a shaky breath. “He wanted me to marry him.” “My dad pulled me out of school immediately. Pressured me, guilted me… until I agreed. After the wedding… Arthur started hitting me. Regularly.” Talking about it felt like ripping open a barely healed wound, raw and agonizing. “Arthur Morgan? Of Morgan Construction?” Ethan asked, his voice tight with disbelief. His knuckles were white where he gripped the edge of the first-aid kit. “Yes. He’s twenty-five years older than me. I didn’t want to marry him, I fought it, but my parents… they threatened drastic things, laid on the guilt thick.” “After we were married, I tried to leave, tried to file for divorce. Each time, Arthur would just get worse. He’d beat me, then threaten me. I called the police once, but he produced some kind of doctored medical report from a shady clinic, claiming I had mental health issues, that my injuries were self-inflicted. My parents backed him up.” My voice broke. “I tried to find a lawyer to take my case for divorce court, but no one would touch it. Arthur has too many connections, too much influence.” When I finished, Ethan covered his face with his hands, his shoulders shaking. Broken sobs escaped him. “I’m so sorry, Ava. I’m so, so sorry. If I’d just paid more attention back then, if I’d reached out after you left… maybe you wouldn’t have gone through all this hell.” I reached out and put a hand on his arm, then impulsively leaned forward and hugged him, resting my head on his shoulder. “Ethan, it’s not your fault. How could you have known? You were just starting your career, working crazy hours.” “I’m such an idiot!” he choked out, pulling back slightly to look at me, his eyes filled with self-reproach. “When you broke things off, I was too proud, too arrogant to demand answers. If I’d just come after you, found out what was really going on…” He buried his face in his hands again, crying like a lost child. I tried to comfort him, but he was lost in his guilt. Finally, I sighed, feeling utterly drained. “Ethan, I’m exhausted. I need to sleep.” “Right. Okay. Let me get the guest room ready for you. Wait here.” I watched him go, his back straight but radiating tension. A wave of uncertainty washed over me. Was telling him everything the right thing to do? He returned quickly, scooped me up again, and carried me into a spare bedroom, placing me gently on the bed. “Wait here,” he said again. “Let me get some warm water. For your feet. They must be freezing.” He came back moments later with a basin of warm water. He rolled up his sleeves and knelt down. I instinctively pulled my feet back. “Ethan, no, you don’t have to. I can do it.” He just gave me a look, then gently took my feet and placed them in the warm water. “Is the temperature okay?” I nodded, biting my lip. “Ethan… why are you being so nice to me?” “My Ava deserves this,” he said softly, his voice thick. He washed my feet carefully, meticulously, as if handling priceless artifacts. My eyes stung. Ava Miller… what did I ever do to deserve a man like Ethan Hayes? After drying my feet, he went to his closet and pulled out a crisp white button-down shirt. He handed it to me, his ears turning slightly red. “You can’t sleep comfortably in that dress. Wear this for tonight. I’ll get you some proper clothes tomorrow.” Seeing his slight awkwardness made me smile faintly. “Ethan,” I asked, suddenly curious, “have you… have you dated anyone? These past five years?” The moment the words left my mouth, I wanted to slap myself. What right did I have to ask, me, a married woman trapped in a nightmare? “No,” he said, his voice quiet but firm. “All these years… I never forgot you, Ava.” The raw honesty in his voice hung in the air. He dropped the shirt onto the bed beside me and quickly left the room. The large bedroom felt quiet, almost too quiet, but for the first time in five years, lying there in the dark, I felt a profound sense of peace. In Arthur’s house, I hadn’t had a single night of truly restful sleep.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “392464”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel