Category: English

My son was prone to rage, a violent bully. Even as I lay dying, he was hitting me: “You old hag, who the hell do you think you are, trying to tell me what to do?” My young daughter threw herself over me, but it didn’t stop his fists: “Get off, you useless brat! Move, or I’ll beat you too!” Then I opened my eyes. I was back, one year earlier. I gently reminded my husband, “Remember to just give him whatever he wants, indulge his every whim. Otherwise, he might actually kill you, you know.” 1. The moment I opened my eyes, I saw my son frantically smashing things. As he wrecked the room, he screamed, “You old hag, if you don’t buy me that new PlayStation, get the hell out of my house!” My daughter was terrified, sobbing loudly. “Shut up or I’ll choke you!” he shrieked, grabbing a vase and hurling it. I quickly shielded my daughter. Ceramic shards hit my forehead, and blood instantly welled up. He didn’t even notice, just kept throwing things at me. I wiped away the blood, numbly cleaning up the mess. Then, I looked him straight in the eye and refused sternly: “No. I’m not buying it.” He blinked, stunned that I’d contradicted him for the first time, then exploded with rage: “Damn you, why won’t you buy it for me? Why the hell not!” I looked at my son’s face, twisted with hatred, murder flashing in his eyes, and my heart went cold. He was my firstborn, the Jones family’s golden boy, showered with affection since birth. My in-laws treated him like a precious jewel, spoiling him rotten. As a result, he grew up arrogant and aggressive. Every time I tried to set boundaries, my in-laws and my husband shut me down. “He’s just a kid,” they’d say. “He’ll grow out of it.” But if the roots are rotten, can the tree grow straight? In my past life, my own stupidity led to my miserable end. How could I have been so naive, believing he would magically change as he got older? How could I have believed my husband when he said every family needs someone to sacrifice, convincing me to become a stay-at-home mom? Letting his whole family treat me like the Jones’s maid. Even the child knew I deserved no respect. And now, this fifteen-year-old boy, already tall and strong, wanted to hit me again… Thinking of this, I dodged his incoming fist and slapped him hard across the face. “Because I’m your mother! You’re a student, you can’t be obsessed with video games!” He was stunned, frozen for a moment. Then he lunged at me, fists flying. “I’m gonna kill you today!” Quick as lightning, I ran into the kitchen and grabbed a knife. “If I can’t control you, maybe we should both just end it!” He swallowed hard, fear flickering in his eyes. Pointing a shaking finger at me, he backed away towards the door. “Fine! Just fine! You wait! I’ll have my dad deal with you when he gets back!” He slammed the door behind him. I finally let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. My daughter ran to me, crying. “Mommy, are you okay?” Her chubby little hands touched my bruised cheek, trying to soothe the sting. “Mommy, does it hurt?” Tears welled up in my eyes. “When Lily kisses it better, it doesn’t hurt anymore.” In my past life, after my son killed me, my daughter’s life was hell. Grandparents ignored her, Dad didn’t care, her brother bullied her relentlessly. She ended up an orphan, unwanted by everyone. This time, I wouldn’t let history repeat itself. 2. My husband’s call came an hour later. The second I answered, he roared, “Sarah, what the hell is this about you kicking Kevin out of the house?!” “He’s just a kid! So he wants to play some games, big deal! Did you have to make such a scene? Do you have any idea how hard I work, busting my ass day and night to support you, him, and that… other kid? And you’re still not satisfied! Can’t I even have peace of mind on a business trip?” I held the phone away from my ear, interrupting his tirade coldly, “If you’re on a business trip, then focus on your work. When you get back, we need to settle things between us.” The yelling continued on the other end, but I had already hung up. I used to have a steady career. He was the one who sweet-talked me into quitting, saying he’d handle the finances, and I should focus on the home. My in-laws supposedly came to help with the kids, but really, they just wanted me to wait on them hand and foot. On top of raising the children, I had to care for them too. I was exhausted every single day. When we disagreed on how to raise Kevin, their boundless spoiling drained me completely. Later, Mark convinced me to have a second child, promising that his parents would take over childcare afterward, freeing me up to go back to work. But after Lily was born, my in-laws changed their tune right outside the delivery room, calling her a “money pit” and saying the Jones family didn’t want a girl. From then on, I raised two children alone. Going back to work became a distant dream. My life revolved around my husband and kids. Going out meant school runs and grocery shopping. Over time, I stopped bothering with makeup or dressing up. Eventually, I became the “old hag” my husband complained about, and my son picked up the term, using it too. Not long after I hung up, I got a call from the neighborhood security. My son, Kevin, had gotten into a fight with another boy in the community park’s fitness area. He started it. As soon as I arrived, the other boy’s parent started yelling. “How do you raise your kid? He’s like some rabid animal, attacking people for no reason! My son didn’t even look at him, and yours just punched him! You think you can just bully people?” “Yeah, grandson! Let me see him again, I’ll beat the crap out of him!” my son snarled from the side. The neighbor was furious. “We’re calling the police! No settling this privately!” I bowed my head, apologized profusely, and promised to pay double for all medical expenses before they finally, reluctantly, let it go. Walking away from the security office, my son sneered at me, “Wimp. So what if we have to pay? Dad’s loaded. Like we can’t afford it. Should’ve beaten him harder!” “That’s disgraceful! Go home, now!” I yelled at him. He froze. Then he gave me a hard shove and stomped off towards home. Back inside, Kevin sprawled on the sofa and ordered me around, “I’m hungry. Go buy me Popeyes.” Looking at his arrogant face, treating me like his servant, I wanted to laugh bitterly. In my past life, he was always this defiant. I tried to reach him with love, gave in to his every demand, which only made him think I was afraid of his father and grandparents yelling at me. Now, it was clear. This child was beyond saving. “I don’t have any money. Ask your father.” First, I didn’t approve of him constantly eating fried chicken, soda, and burgers. Second, his attitude towards me was truly chilling. Kevin glared at me. “Dad gives you money for expenses! Go buy it!” Just then, the doorbell rang. It was my best friend, Brenda. She saw us staring each other down and looked surprised. “What’s wrong? Look how upset Kevin is.” “I want Popeyes, and the old hag won’t buy it for me!” Brenda immediately played peacemaker, pulling Kevin onto the sofa, cooing softly, “If Mommy won’t buy it, Auntie Brenda will.” With that, Brenda took out her phone, handed it to Kevin, and told him to order whatever he wanted. As Kevin ordered, he shot me a warning glare, daring me to object. He’d been overweight for two years already. The doctor said absolutely no fried foods, especially chicken and soda. I tried to enforce it strictly every day, but his father, grandparents, and even Brenda constantly snuck him extra treats. Two years of trying to lose weight, and he only got fatter. In stark contrast to Kevin’s selfish rebellion, my daughter Lily was a true sweetheart, well-behaved and adorable. I decided to ignore my son. I went with Lily to her room, helped her set up her drawing supplies, and while she was busy drawing, I went to the kitchen to start dinner. Kevin was gorging himself in the living room, practically draped over Brenda, praising her effusively. Then I heard him say, “Auntie Brenda, you should be my mom instead. I can’t stand that old hag anymore, she ruins everything!” Brenda giggled, covering her mouth. “What nonsense are you talking!” “It’s true! Auntie Brenda, please be my mom.” The spatula in my hand suddenly felt heavy, slipping slightly. A deep chill spread through my heart. For this marriage, for this son, I had done more than enough. Enough was enough. 3. Mark suddenly walked in. Kevin’s scowl vanished instantly, and he ran happily to hug his father. “Dad, you’re finally back!” Mark hugged Kevin back tightly. “Hey, buddy! Dad missed you like crazy.” “Daddy.” Lily left the dinner table too, wanting to greet her father, but Mark coldly pushed her away. My daughter’s lower lip trembled, and she looked at me with pleading eyes. I went over and carried her back to her chair. Father and son completely ignored this. Kevin pointed an accusing finger at me. “Dad, she wouldn’t let me have fried chicken and soda! And she hit me!” He pointed to his cheek. “It really hurts.” Mark shot me an angry glare, then handed the family bucket of chicken he was holding to Kevin. He said loudly, clearly for me to hear, “Eat up, son. Eat all you want. It’s my money she’s spending anyway. Who dares tell my precious boy he can’t have what he wants!” They say depending on someone else financially is hard. Mark proved it point-blank. He believed that as long as I asked him for living expenses, I had to obey his commands. He pulled Kevin over towards me, his tone commanding, “Apologize to your son. You went too far.” I replied firmly, “Absolutely not.” He roared at me, “If you don’t apologize, I’ll cut off support for you and the girl! I’ll only provide for Kevin!” So, the son belonged to the Jones family, but the daughter was solely mine. I hadn’t expected him to care for Lily, but hearing him say it out loud still stung. “Bullshit!” I retorted forcefully. Mark froze. It was the first time I’d defied him so openly in front of someone else, and with Kevin waiting for him to assert his authority. He became furious, raising his hand to slap me. “You rebellious bitch!” I looked at him coldly. “I want a divorce.” His raised hand stopped mid-air. He was stunned, unable to believe that I, who had always revolved around him, would initiate a divorce. Then, as if hearing a joke, he started laughing, the flesh on his face trembling. “Your parents practically disowned you, and you’ve got that brother living there now. Where are you gonna go if you divorce me? Do you even know your own worth?” “If you behave, apologize to Kevin, and beg his forgiveness, maybe I’ll give you one more chance.” I didn’t bother arguing. I pulled out the divorce papers. “I’ve already signed. Kevin goes with you, Lily comes with me.” His eyes flickered down to my signature, confirming I was serious. He sneered, “You’re the one asking for the divorce. Fine, but don’t expect a dime from me for you two.” “No problem.” Mark glared at me. Maybe my initiating the divorce wounded his pride. He laughed mockingly, “Talk is cheap. You think you can actually support that… girl… without me?” I said, “Why don’t you take both of them?” Mark fell silent for a moment. Brenda quickly interjected, “Sarah, what are you thinking? They say daughters are a comfort. You don’t want either of them? You’ll regret this later.” I stared straight at Mark, asking again, “I can’t afford both. Will you take them both?” The Jones family had always called Lily a “money pit”; they would never agree to take her. I was just calling his bluff. Kevin sneered at me, “Whoever had the useless kid can take her. The Jones family doesn’t raise useless kids.” Then, with an air of superiority, he added, “If you apologize to me right now, maybe I’ll feel sorry for you and ask Dad to give you some child support.” In that instant, it felt like a thousand needles were pricking my heart. Kevin was a carbon copy of Mark – arrogant, condescending, exactly like his father. In the last couple of years, Mark’s business had taken off, his office space getting bigger and bigger. Money had completely inflated his ego. Inflated it so much he thought I couldn’t possibly survive without this house, without him. In this home, I received zero respect. Mark was clearly pleased with Kevin’s performance. “Good boy. Dad will buy you the latest game console tomorrow.” Kevin’s face lit up immediately. He looked at me like I was an eyesore. “Dad, hurry up and sign the papers so she leaves! Let her take the useless kid. She’ll come crying and begging you later.” 4. Mark smirked cruelly. “Take the girl and get out, and I’ll sign.” I said, “Fine, I’ll take her. But you need to give me some financial compensation. How else am I supposed to raise her?” Perhaps afraid I’d drag things out, Mark didn’t hesitate much. He actually gave me a sum of money. “Okay,” I said. “From now on, if Kevin needs anything, you can’t come to me. Likewise, even if we end up begging on the streets, we will never come to you.” “You remember what you said.” Mark quickly signed the agreement, his fat trembling slightly. “Remember! Don’t come crawling back, even if you’re begging!” “The same goes for you and your son,” I shot back. My wonderful son sneered at me, “Just get lost already! Once you’re gone, Dad can take me to buy that game console.” Brenda stood by, putting on a show of trying to reconcile us. “Oh dear, why divorce? Surely you can work things out?” I gave her a cold, knowing look. In my past life, when I was heavily pregnant with my second child and started hemorrhaging, I called Mark to take me to the hospital. He said he was busy, told me to take a taxi. But then I saw Brenda’s social media post. A familiar pair of hands, a familiar watch. That night, I was alone in the hospital fighting for my life. Because they couldn’t reach him, my parents had to come and sign the consent forms for surgery. Afterward, Brenda came to visit me in the hospital. She gushed about the diamond necklace her “boyfriend” had given her that night, how he took her shopping, bought her designer bags, how they embraced on a bed covered in heart-shaped rose petals… For the sake of the children, I chose to play deaf and dumb. In public, I forced a smile. Behind closed doors, I cried constantly. The resentment festered inside me, unresolved. My daughter never even got a drop of breast milk because of the stress. I had failed my daughter. My husband and my best friend had been together for ages. My precious son thought Brenda would treat him well. He didn’t understand. Brenda was spoiling him rotten, setting him up for failure! He wasn’t her flesh and blood. Whether he became obese or terminally ill, what did it matter to her? As for Mark, that scumbag? Once he had new children with Brenda, would he still care about Kevin? But… it was none of my business anymore. Since Kevin didn’t want me as his mother, I didn’t want him either.

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I host a relationship advice stream. That night, I connected with a female caller. She said she’d fallen for someone, but he was married. It wasn’t until I clicked on her profile page, checking out her videos, that I realized the guy she was talking about looked disturbingly familiar. Wasn’t this mystery man my own picture-perfect, couldn’t-do-enough-for-me husband? 1 I’m a relationship advice streamer. Every night, I slap on a silly face filter and use a voice modulator to chat live with followers, helping them figure out their problems. Tonight’s caller was a regular, one of my long-time fans. But what she said blew up the chat and knocked me completely off balance. “I don’t believe in limiting myself. If I like someone, that’s all that matters.” “So, okay, I’m not technically the other woman yet, but I might be soon, and honestly? I don’t care. As long as I’m happy.” The chat immediately filled with question marks. People were seriously questioning her sanity. I couldn’t help but push back a little, pointing out that knowingly becoming the other woman hurts people. But instead of reflecting, she doubled down. “You can’t force feelings. It’s not like I’m demanding he marry me. Is it wrong to chase your own happiness?” What kind of twisted logic was this? “So, what if another woman came along and stole your husband? You’d be okay with that?” She paused for maybe two seconds before firing back, all self-righteous, “Yeah, as long as we split the assets fairly.” Of course. So, it really was about the guy’s money. Trying to sound romantic while being completely mercenary. She kept spewing her justifications in the stream, and meanwhile, the viewer count was skyrocketing. I quickly grabbed my phone and used my burner account to check out her profile. I had to see who this woman was. How could anyone be so shameless? Her profile pics showed her smiling sweetly, looking blissfully happy. The man next to her always had his back to the camera, never showing his face. The only identifying feature visible was on the back of his neck – four moles, forming a perfect little square. That pattern sparked a flicker of recognition, making my heart pound erratically. I scrolled through more of her posts. Always selfies of her, followed by shots of a man’s arm, his leg, other body parts. Never his face. Coincidentally, her IP address showed she was in the same city as me. After quickly hitting ‘follow’ from my burner account, I forced myself back to the stream, trying to pull myself together. The chat was a waterfall of comments. The woman was still talking nonstop, clearly pleased with herself, thinking she’d won me over with her “logic.” I looked at her profile picture and let out a cold, genuine laugh. “You know people are going to drag you for this. You know your morals are messed up. You’re blowing up a family and calling it love? Knowingly being the other woman? What kind of person are you?” Even then, she argued back, accusing me of using my platform to cyberbully her. I wasn’t having it. I laid into her with righteous anger, then decisively cut her connection. Virtual gifts flooded the screen. The chat was full of applause. I’ve been streaming for three or four years, and this was the first time I’d encountered someone so brazen about being the third party. After she was gone, I took a few more calls, but my heart wasn’t in it. All evening, I kept seeing flashes of them together, kept picturing those four damn moles. As soon as I could reasonably end the stream, I logged into my burner account and messaged her. I pretended to be a fellow mistress, complaining about how nobody understood our situation, telling her I felt a connection, like we were kindred spirits. It only took a couple of hours for her to start trusting me. She even started spilling details about the guy’s family situation, his age, his job. Married three years, no kids, a dynamic where the wife was the main breadwinner… Every little clue seemed to point in one direction. The man she was talking about was my own doting, perfect husband. Mark. 2: The Confirmation After chatting for a bit, I told her I needed to sign off and get some rest. Not long after, Mark came home. He immediately started giving me a shoulder rub, sweet as ever, even running water for me to soak my feet. He always said I worked too hard, that this helped me relax. Honestly, the idea of him cheating seemed impossible. Two years ago, when my grandpa was hospitalized, Mark was a rockstar. He was there constantly, helping out so much that even the doctors commented on what a devoted grandson-in-law he was. Every holiday, every birthday, he’d be at my parents’ place days early, planning meals, bringing thoughtful gifts for them. We never even fought. How could he be cheating? I stared at him, lost in thought. Mark seemed to notice my gaze and offered a small smile. His hand, still damp, lightly tapped my nose. “Looks like my wife is exhausted. You’re totally zoned out.” He sat beside me, pulling me into a hug. He reminded me our anniversary was the day after tomorrow, whispering he had a surprise planned. The next day, he took me to a high-end jewelry store bright and early. A salesperson approached us eagerly, a dazzling smile on her face. That face… It was the woman from my stream last night! Jessica! Her eyes flickered past me, landing on Mark beside me. I caught it out of the corner of my eye. Mark’s expression didn’t change, but the tiny muscle twitching under his eye gave him away. So, they definitely knew each other. Swallowing the bile rising in my throat, I followed her into the main showroom. I kept my head down, pretending to browse the display cases, but I was watching them both like a hawk. They were chatting and laughing easily, completely ignoring me. I looked up. “Your name’s Jessica, right? You’ve been really helpful. Can I get your contact info? I’ll definitely come back to you next time I’m looking for jewelry.” She hesitated for a split second, then agreed. Later, I casually scrolled through her professional Instagram – clearly a work account. The latest post: Pushing for my sales target! Free stainless steel tumbler with purchase! Plus, you get me as your bonus. Attached was a cute, flirty selfie. So, Mark’s idea of an anniversary gift was actually just helping Jessica hit her sales quota! Fury turned into retail therapy. I pointed at several expensive pieces, racking up a hefty bill. Right there, in front of both of us, Mark had to play the big shot, emptying out his personal savings account to cover it. 3: The Alliance That night, I hopped back onto my burner account and messaged Jessica. She was practically gloating, bragging about how clueless his wife (me!) was, totally oblivious that she’d just helped Jessica hit her sales target. Called me an idiot. Playing the part of the envious fellow mistress, I asked what her next move was. Surely, she didn’t want to stay hidden forever? I fanned the flames: “I’m so jealous you actually get to see his wife! I keep pushing my guy to divorce her, but he just avoids the topic. I don’t even know if I should keep waiting.” Sure enough, less than two minutes later, Jessica sent a barrage of voice messages. She urged me to fight for “true love,” not to be scared off by society’s judgment. Back and forth we went, becoming “besties” who shared everything. Our little “True Love Alliance.” And Jessica got bolder. She started posting pictures of herself with Mark on her work Instagram more often. Still careful never to show his face, though. I silently ‘liked’ every single one. 4: The Confrontation Today was our wedding anniversary. Mark had ordered a cake first thing in the morning, promising to cook me a special dinner when he got home from work. But by evening, he still wasn’t back. Then came the phone call. A sudden work emergency, he claimed. He had to work late, couldn’t make it home. He promised to make it up to me another day. I asked calmly, “Mark, are you absolutely sure you’re not coming home tonight?” I could hear frantic typing on his end. He was too “busy” to even really answer, just mumbled a few excuses and hung up quickly. My phone pinged with a notification. It was Jessica, messaging my burner account. Bragging. Saying her boyfriend ditched his boring wife to be with her, how incredibly romantic and sweet it all was. I knew how vile she was, but I played along, praising her boldness. Ever since that jewelry store incident, it was like Mark had gotten a taste of freedom and couldn’t get enough. He was becoming reckless. He came home less and less. Our arguments became more frequent. Jessica grew even more daring, sneakily snapping pictures of his back, posting them to her stories, then deleting them five minutes later. Completely disregarding me. Fine. If that’s how they wanted to play it, I’d just add fuel to the fire. I kept up the charade with Jessica on my burner account, feeding her fake updates about my own “affair.” I told her I’d confronted the wife, caused a huge scene, and that they were definitely getting divorced now. I filled my messages with fake joy about finally “making it official.” Predictably, Jessica couldn’t stand it. The next day, I was in the kitchen making lunch when I heard a sharp knock at the door. There she stood, flawlessly made-up, poured into a tight, dark gray dress that showed off every curve. Before I could react, she swept past me like she owned the place, plopped down on my sofa in her high heels. One shoe dangled precariously off her toes. “Hi. I’m Jessica. Mark’s partner. I believe we’ve met.” Her eyes scanned me from head to toe, a sneer playing on her lips. “Honestly, I don’t see what he ever saw in you. You’re nothing special.” “He doesn’t love you anymore. There’s no point in dragging this out. Just be smart, sign the divorce papers, and let yourselves move on with some dignity.” Seeing my silence, she grew bolder, launching into a speech about her deep, unbreakable bond with Mark. Anyone listening would think I was the homewrecker. “You’re just a housewife. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll hurry up and—” SMACK! I didn’t let her finish. I swung my hand with everything I had. My palm stung. A bright red handprint blossomed on her right cheek. Damn, that felt good. “You hit me!” Her eyes widened in fury, and she lunged at me, teeth bared. I’m taller, and her heels made her clumsy. I easily shoved her back onto the sofa and started letting her have it. Jessica shrieked that she was calling the cops. I stayed calm. “Go ahead. Call them. Let’s see who they arrest – me, or the woman breaking into someone’s home to harass them.” “If he really loved you, would he let you be the dirty little secret? You think you found true love, but you’re just a fling to him.” “A plaything. Something to use and throw away when he’s bored.” That hit a nerve. Jessica completely lost it. She swiped everything off the coffee table – ceramic vases shattered on the floor. I quickly pulled out my phone, recorded her meltdown, sent the video to our family group chat, and specifically tagged Mark. Less than twenty minutes later, he burst through the door, looking frantic. Jessica saw him like a lifeline, sobbing and throwing herself into his arms. I leaned against the wall, watching the drama unfold with a strange sense of detachment. Two whole years. Now, the mask was finally slipping. I was almost excited to see how he’d try to spin this. Mark shoved Jessica away. Sweat beaded on his forehead, darkening his shirt, even though the room wasn’t particularly warm. He scrambled over to me, hands raised in surrender, begging me to listen. “Chloe, it’s all a misunderstanding! There’s nothing going on between us, I swear!” Jessica screeched, “Didn’t you tell me you two had no feelings left?! That she’s just some online personality with a bit of money?! Look at her! How can she possibly compare to me?” “Jessica, shut up!” Mark yelled back. I stared at them, a dawning realization hitting me. So, in Mark’s world, our love had died long ago. It was true, my online career had taken off in the last couple of years. I’d even bought myself a new car. If Jessica hadn’t blurted it out today, I might never have known he was resentful, that he was after my money. Suddenly, the disgust washed over me. These two were repulsive. I started pushing them both towards the door. Suddenly, Jessica clutched her stomach, her eyes wide with alarm as she looked at me. The words she spoke next hit me like a physical blow. “Don’t touch me! I’m pregnant!”

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My boyfriend became a zombie. The moment we saw each other again, he lunged at me viciously… and hammered the zombie right behind me into oblivion! He quickly hid his blood-stained hands behind his back, not wanting me to see. He just looked at me with those wide, puppy-dog eyes, like a kid caught doing something wrong. 2 My boyfriend, Liam, was my best friend since kindergarten. He was always obsessed with being clean, but right now, he was covered in dust and blood. His usually neat hair was a total mess, his glasses were gone, and his eyes… they were glowing with this freaky, unnatural red light. I slowly walked towards him. He just stood there, looking completely lost. The virus had taken over his mind, but somehow, it seemed to strip away his usual guard, showing the real him underneath. Normally, you could never tell what Liam was thinking, but right now, his embarrassment was written all over his face. He suddenly turned, and I knew he was about to run. I darted forward and grabbed his shirt. He still tried to pull away, but I snapped, “Liam!” Ever since we were kids, me using his full name meant I was seriously mad, and he’d always, always drop everything to try and make me feel better. Even as a zombie, that hadn’t changed. But this time, his apology was in his actions. He stopped trying to run. I remembered I had some wet wipes in my backpack. I pulled one out and started gently wiping the blood and grime off his face. Liam obediently closed his eyes, letting me clean him up. His face was clean, so I started on his hands. But he’d clearly been wandering outside for a while. Some of the dirt was just too caked on; it would need a real wash. So, I brought him home. 3 It sounds completely insane, I know. I actually brought a zombie home. But he was Liam. My Liam, who would never hurt me. First thing I did when we got inside was double-bolt the door. Luckily, the outbreak hit in the evening about a month ago, so most of the zombies in our apartment building were probably trapped inside their own places. Still, you always had to watch out for surprise attacks – Survival 101. Door secured, I dug out some old clothes Liam had left at my place and led him to the bathroom. Turns out, even though some part of him was still human, he’d forgotten basic life skills. The blank stare he gave the showerhead told me everything I needed to know. This was going to be up to me. By the time we were done, he was spotless and fresh, and I was soaked to the bone, my face probably beet red. But I was still incredibly happy. My food stash at home was running low. I’d planned to risk a trip to the corner store downstairs today, maybe scavenge something. Instead, I found Liam. It was more than I could have hoped for. After a terrifying day, and being absolutely starving, I slept like a rock. Sometime deep in the night, I had a nightmare. I dreamed a zombie was biting me. I jolted awake and realized it was Liam, his arms wrapped around my neck, gnawing on my skin. He hadn’t broken the skin, just sort of… grinding, but I could see him swallowing reflexively. “Leo,” I whispered, using his old nickname, my hand gently stroking his hair. “Are you trying to eat me?” “Rrrgh!” Hearing my voice, Liam shuddered violently, pushed me away, and scrambled out of the bedroom. “Leo!” I chased him into the spare room. He was huddled in the corner, his tall frame curled into a ball, ferociously biting his own hand. Skin tore, but not a single drop of blood fell. He was hungry, wasn’t he? Hurting himself like this just so he wouldn’t hurt me? My nose stung, and tears welled up. I rushed to the storage closet. I remembered a gag gift a friend gave me for my eighteenth birthday – one of those weird, Hannibal Lecter-style muzzles. It was supposed to be a joke, but now… I didn’t want to use something like this on Liam, I really didn’t. But I couldn’t think of any other way to stop him from hurting himself. I found it and hurried back to the spare room. Liam growled at me. He couldn’t speak, couldn’t tell me what he wanted, but his red eyes were filled with desperation and pain, begging me to stay away. I ignored it. Stubbornly, I walked closer and knelt in front of him. I carefully fitted the makeshift muzzle over his mouth. Liam reached out, his cold, grayish thumb trembling as it brushed the corner of my eye. That’s when I realized I was crying. I stayed in the room with Liam all night. As the sky turned a dim gray, I went out onto the balcony, my heart heavy as I looked out at the world. Everything had changed. Completely. Zombies roamed free, pushing humanity into smaller and smaller corners. Despair hung over the city like a shroud. The streets were stained with dried blood, littered with gruesome reminders of what people had become. It was horrifying. I glanced to my left and saw Mrs. Henderson, my neighbor, standing on her balcony in a white nightgown, just staring blankly at the ground below. I called out her name. She turned, and our eyes met. I wanted to say something encouraging, like we usually did, find some words of comfort. But before I could speak, she gave me a small, sad smile, climbed over the railing, and jumped. 4 A swarm of zombies instantly converged on her broken body below, tearing it apart. I could almost hear the sickening crunch and squelch of their teeth. Swallowing back nausea, I looked up at the sky. It wasn’t the first suicide I’d heard about. Not by a long shot. I knew Mrs. Henderson had reached her breaking point. Her husband went out for supplies last week and never came back. Three days ago, her only son left too. I’d overheard him promising her over and over that he’d return, saying he was fully geared up and would be fine. Then… nothing. Silence. “Rrrroargh!” Liam was growling in the spare room. I knew he was starving, but we didn’t have any meat left. I didn’t want to die by his hands, but I couldn’t let him leave either. I went back to him, adjusted the muzzle, and took his hand, just like I always used to. “Leo,” I said, trying to sound normal. “Let’s go find some food, okay? Can you try really, really hard not to… eat people?” I took Liam to the big supermarket downtown. Before leaving, I bundled myself up – layers of clothes, and then wrapped myself in thick layers of old newspaper and packing tape. Crude armor, but better than nothing. This was my third supply run. I hated going this far, but the small convenience store downstairs had been picked clean ages ago. The big supermarket was my only hope. When the virus first hit, a lot of people fled the city, heading for safer zones. But some, like me, were too scared to leave home, hunkered down, and missed the first wave of evacuations. Now, we were just trying to survive day by day. I wondered if any more rescue teams would ever come back for us. Liam followed me obediently, staying close like a loyal shadow. He didn’t attack me, didn’t wander off. When we encountered zombies, I used my modified fire axe to take them down – aiming for the head. But the closer we got to the supermarket, the more zombies there were. I was starting to get overwhelmed. Just as I was dealing with one in front of me, another lunged from the side, clamping its jaws onto my lower leg. I cried out, looking down. It was just the top half of a zombie, dragging its guts behind it, clawing its way up my pants. I reached for the boning knife I kept tucked in my belt, ready to plunge it into its skull. Before I could strike, its head snapped sideways with a sickening crack. I looked up into Liam’s expressionless face. Zombies couldn’t show much emotion, but somehow, I felt his worry radiating off him. “Leo, I’m okay! Look!” I stuck my leg out for him to see. “See? This newspaper armor actually works! I stuffed cotton padding inside too. It didn’t even break the skin.” “Come on,” I said, patting his cheek. “Let’s go shopping!” I led him straight down to the supermarket’s basement level, where they usually kept the meat storage. There was still plenty of food down there. I took a deep breath and removed the muzzle from his face. It was incredibly risky – a starving Liam could easily turn on me. But I trusted him. I believed he wouldn’t hurt me, just like how, even as a zombie, he’d instinctively protected me moments ago. Holding my breath, I held out a piece of raw pork towards his mouth, my eyes filled with hope. Liam hesitated for a long moment, then leaned forward and took a bite. His face remained blank. I couldn’t tell if he liked it or not, but I saw his throat move as he swallowed. Relief washed over me, so strong I almost collapsed. I felt like I’d won the lottery. I offered him other things – raw beef, chicken. He ate them all. As long as it was raw meat, he seemed okay with it. I threw my arms around him, laughing and crying at the same time. His diet wasn’t limited to humans! There was hope! 5 Liam was different from the other zombies. Not just because he recognized me and could control his urge to attack me, but crucially, because he could eat raw meat. Other zombies didn’t seem to have either of these traits. My gut told me Liam’s uniqueness had to be kept secret. People don’t react well to anomalies, especially now. If anyone found out how different he was, they’d probably want to lock him up, study him… I’d seen enough movies and read enough books to know how that story goes. We grabbed as much meat and other supplies as we could carry and hurried back to the apartment building. As I reached our floor, I saw someone huddled by my neighbor’s door. He looked up sharply as I came up the stairs, then relaxed slightly when he saw it was me, slumping back against the wall. He was covered in dried blood and grime, looking like he’d just survived a major fight. I stopped, stunned. “Ethan…?” It was Mrs. Henderson’s son. “Sarah? Is my mom out? Why won’t she open the door?” My heart sank. Seeing his hopeful face, thinking about his mother’s desperate leap from the balcony… I didn’t know how to tell him. I remembered last year when he got into the state university. Just turned eighteen, so proud, his mom handing out little bags of candy at the building entrance, wanting everyone to share her joy. Now… this. God. Maybe he saw something in my face, because his expression started to change, hope draining away. “She went out, didn’t she…? Didn’t she? But I told her I’d come back! I promised her! Why… why didn’t she believe me…?” He started muttering to himself, pure panic taking over his eyes. “Your mom… she didn’t go out, Ethan…” His dull eyes flickered with a tiny spark. “I… I saw her this morning. She jumped from the balcony. She thought… she thought you weren’t coming back. I’m so sorry…” The words felt like stones in my mouth. Ethan froze. He stopped talking, just stared at the floor, his head bowed. I didn’t know what to say. Any words of comfort would sound hollow, useless. I thought he’d stay like that, lost in shock, but after a minute, he slowly stood up, picked up the makeshift weapon lying at his feet – looked like a sharpened pipe – and started walking towards the stairs, heading down. “Where are you going?” I called after him. His voice was raspy, broken. “Downstairs… to find my mom.

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My new roommate was a total phony. Whenever we were on our phones, she’d sneak up behind us, watching our texts. She’d always be the first to grab a bite of anyone’s snacks, but she’d hide in bed after lights out to eat her own. She never bought shampoo or body wash. It was always, “Can I borrow your body wash?”, “Can I use your shampoo?”, “Can I have some of your laundry detergent?”, and then, eventually, “Do you have any tampons I can use?”… I bought a MIUMIU bag, and she kept saying how much she loved it. A few days later, she bought the same one! Turns out, she switched my real bag with her fake one, then accused me of using a knockoff! We had a huge fight, and I demanded she give me back my bag. Instead, she cut my real bag to shreds! Furious, I went to the Resident Advisor (RA) to complain. The RA told her to pay me back, but she started spreading rumors behind my back that I was a prostitute and a mistress! She even leaked my phone number, so I kept getting texts asking how much I charged! I was livid. I grabbed her and demanded she clear my name. She just laughed and mocked me, saying: “You think you’re so rich? Showing off in front of me? What do you have to show off now? I can’t stand you! Why should you have a good life?!” I realized she was doing it on purpose. I pounced on her! We got into a scuffle, and we both fell out the window. When I woke up, I was back when she first moved into our dorm room… 1 “We’ve got a student transferring into this dorm. Make her feel welcome.” Our RA, Ms. Evans, introduced us to Brittany. She gave us a shy smile. “Sarah, can you help Brittany settle in? She’s new to the class, and she might need some help adjusting. You guys are in the same club, so it should be easy for you to get along.” I gave the RA a polite, but apologetic smile: “Sorry, Ms. Evans, I’m busy with my senior project right now. I don’t have time. Maybe Ashley and Brittany can hang out. The three of us are in the same club.” Last time around, Brittany spread rumors about me, and Ashley was right there to add fuel to the fire. I couldn’t figure out what I had done to make Ashley do that, stab me in the back like that. But whatever. Let the phony and the backstabber fight it out. Last time, Brittany and I had been pretty friendly, at first. We went to the cafeteria together. I’d save us a table, and she’d get the food. I told her I hated cilantro and to get anything without it. She came back with a cilantro chicken burrito! I asked her what was up. Did she forget? Brittany looked at me with big, innocent eyes. “I didn’t forget! But, Sarah, the cilantro chicken burrito is so good! Just eat the chicken, don’t eat the cilantro! It’s fine!” I had to go get another burrito. Later, I told her that Professor Miller wanted us to come to room 503 in the library at 5 PM tomorrow for a meeting. She blinked at me, all innocent, and asked, “Why does she want us to come at 5 AM?” I told her it was 5 PM. She almost started to cry. “It’s already 6! Why are you telling me now?” I took a deep breath and told her it was 5 PM tomorrow. She looked down and mumbled, “Okay.” I thought that was it, but a minute later, she looked up and asked: “What room did you say?” “503!” “In the library or the student union?” Me: … “The library!” I thought I was being clear, but she didn’t show up to the meeting. Professor Miller called her and told her to come. When she finally got there, she accused me in front of everyone of deliberately trying to exclude her and not telling her about the meeting! I was so mad. She was such a phony! A phony who couldn’t understand a word you said! After that, our relationship went downhill fast, and it ended with both of us falling out the window. This time, I’d just leave her to Ashley. Let those two bitches tear each other apart. 2 Like attracts like, and Brittany and Ashley hit it off immediately. Ashley helped her unpack, and they huddled together, gossiping and giggling. I figured they were just two birds of a feather, and they could keep all their drama between them. But Brittany was a phony through and through. She was impossible to deal with! Soon, everyone in the dorm was sick of her! Every night, she’d stay up until all hours, either watching TV or playing video games. And when she played games, she used one of those clicky keyboards, and it was so loud, it kept everyone awake. And she always got up at 3 or 4 AM to use the bathroom. The toilet flushed loud, waking up the whole dorm. Being woken up in the middle of the night sucked! It was hard to go back to sleep! We had to get up and go to class the next morning. How could we handle it? Me and my other roommate, Chloe, decided to have a talk with her. We tried to be nice and told her to keep it down at night. Brittany burst into tears. “Chloe, Sarah, if you have a problem with me, just tell me! You don’t have to do this!” Ashley chimed in, sticking up for her. “Yeah, come on, we’re roommates! Why are you being so petty? Brittany just got up to pee! It’s a human need!” Chloe and I looked at each other, getting even angrier. You’re not the one getting woken up every night! You sleep like a rock and snore! Brittany heard Ashley’s words and got even bolder. “Well, I haven’t said anything about you guys getting up at 7:30 in the morning, making all that noise and waking me up! We’re roommates, shouldn’t we be understanding of each other’s schedules?” WHAT?! We got up at 7:30 because we had to go to our early-morning class! Was that wrong? Chloe was speechless. I had a sudden sense of kinship with her. The argument went nowhere. Brittany even started dropping things on purpose when she got up in the middle of the night, making more noise! Chloe and I bought earplugs to try and deal with it. Chloe thought we should try to be tolerant. After all, we were roommates. But I knew Brittany was just going to get worse. The higher they rise, the harder they fall! I was just waiting for her to dig her own grave. 3 After about a month, it was time to pay the electricity bill. Usually, we just split it evenly. But of course, Brittany had to make a scene. “I’m not paying! I never turn on the lights in the dorm, and I charge my phone and laptop in class. I barely use any electricity. Why should I have to pay as much as you guys?” Chloe and I were stunned. “Didn’t you get any use of the lights? Didn’t you feel the AC?” Brittany rolled her eyes. “I didn’t ask you to turn on the lights and AC! You decided to do it. Why should I have to pay for it?” Chloe was furious. “Then leave when we turn on the lights and AC! Don’t enjoy the results of our money!” Brittany looked at us with her innocent eyes. “What do you mean? Are you trying to kick me out of the dorm? I paid my rent. Why shouldn’t I be allowed to stay here?” What kind of logic was that?! She was a phony! I was sure of it! I couldn’t hold back anymore. “Nobody’s trying to kick you out, but you need to pay your share! Are you that broke? Can’t you afford a few bucks for electricity? Are you a freakin’ beggar?” Brittany started crying even louder. “You’re insulting me! How could you say that!” I laughed. “I’m insulting you? Look at what you’re doing!” I stormed to the closet and pulled out the laundry machine. “Brittany! I’ve never met someone so gross! How long have you left your clothes in the washing machine! It smells, you know!” Brittany rolled her eyes and covered her face. “Waaaaa… You look down on me!” Chloe saw the situation in the washing machine and got mad too. Before Brittany came, we bought the washing machine all together! It was ok for her to use it without paying for it, but she didn’t even dry the clothes she washed, just letting them stink. And she also used our washing machine to wash her shoes! Ugh! It was too gross for us to use the washing machine anymore! Chloe couldn’t stand it anymore. She grabbed one of the wet towels in the washing machine, a towel that smelled gross. She used two fingers to drag it into Brittany’s bed: “Smell it! Smell this gross stink! Who would look up to you now?! Your mom would look down on you!” I looked at Brittany with contempt. “I agree. You didn’t even pay for our washing machine! Why we should let you use our washing machine!” Brittany shrieked that we were bullying her. She ran out of the room, causing the other students to watch us. I intentionally looked at the door and said: “Brittany! Don’t say we bully you! Who has ever heard of a roommate who doesn’t share the electricity? By the way, your clothes smell! You let them rot in the washing machine!” Last time, everyone trusted Brittany and complained about me. But this time, I took the first step and made everyone know what kind of guy Brittany was! 4 Ashley must have said something to her. Brittany came back as if nothing had happened. She didn’t act politely. She still focused on our stuff. I knew that she did this, so I hurried to store my expensive Estee Lauder products. I put a bottle of SK-II product on my desk. I put hydrogen peroxide in the bottle. Let her steal it! Humph! Let her make her face ugly! But Chloe didn’t know what to do. She carelessly put her Clarins products on the desk. Brittany despised Ashley’s cheap skin-care products. Brittany started using the products Chloe bought and even used Chloe’s cleanser and toothpaste. Eww! She even applied Chloe’s cream on her feet! She used the hand that she used to rub the skin to apply the cream on her face! So gross! Last time, she must have done the same thing to me, so I was even more disgusted. Before I knew it, my face was closed to her foot skin. Yuck! Moreover, she was sharing the products she stole with Ashley! Ashley even used the cream that Brittany applied to her feet! Wow! Who were these garbage people? Did they even have a conscience? I laughed with anger. That’s why Ashley said bad things to me last time. Ashley even used the skin-care products that Brittany stole! They were so cunning! Last time, I killed Brittany, and I didn’t settle my account with Ashley! This time, they would never get away with this! I secretly took videos of her stealing the products and sharing them with Ashley. Then, I sent the videos to Chloe. 5 Chloe was furious. She couldn’t believe that Brittany was stealing our products. She pulled my hands and asked: “Is Brittany a beggar? Does she have a problem in her head? She stole my skin-care products and my toothpaste! Also, she used her foot to rub the skin, so gross! I will ruin her face!” She bought new products to replace the stolen ones and locked all of our skin-care products and wash-care products. When Brittany noticed that we locked our products, she even had the nerve to ask: “Sarah, Chloe, why did you lock your products? Who do you want to prevent?” I rolled my eyes. “Can you guess?” Brittany said: “Anyway, you are rich, so you should give us some, what’s the matter, you are stingy.” I said unhappily: “What about we are rich? Our money is earned by our parents! Our money is not from the wind! Our money is not for the thieves who take others’ products without permission!” Chloe agreed and said: “Some people’s faces are thick! They use other people’s products without permission. They use other people’s products as if their products were free! So gross!” Brittany kept silent. After a while, she came back with two bags of fruit tea. She gave us one cup of fruit tea: “I felt bad for that thing. I want to buy you some drinks so that you won’t be angry.” She gave us drinks of the top brands, each worth thirty dollars. She put straws into the drinks and gave us the drinks. “I want to say sorry to you, you can taste the drink, it is so delicious.” She added that there were grapefruits and strawberries in the drinks and that the drinks were super delicious. Brittany smiled and said: “There are grapefruits and strawberries in the drinks, and the drinks are super delicious, right?” Chloe’s expression changed. “Didn’t you say there were no citrus products?” Brittany winked her eyes: “Right, there are no oranges, but the grapefruits are not oranges.” Chloe’s face became red. “Quick, call 911. I am so allergic to citrus products, and I will be breathless! Quick call 911!” My face became pale. Severe allergic reaction will kill people! While I was calling 911, Brittany said: “Is that so serious? Is she acting? I only added some grapefruit juice. She is acting so scary, trying to deceive someone.” I was both angry and nervous and pointed at her nose: “If she has a problem, you will be in trouble!”

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My stepsister, Ashley, hit the jackpot landing Ethan Miller, the sole heir to the Miller Industries fortune. Invitations to their engagement party went out to every relative imaginable—except me. But on the big day, the party hit a snag. Things couldn’t get started because, apparently, the legendary Mrs. Miller, Ethan’s stepmother and the boss’s wife, hadn’t shown up yet. Suddenly, my phone was blowing up. Ashley was practically begging, pleading for me to grace them with my presence. Me? The person she deliberately left off the list? 1 It was the weekend, so I drove back to my dad’s place. Mom and Dad split when I was in high school. Two years later, Dad remarried. My stepmom, Linda, came with a daughter, Ashley, five years younger than me. Tonight, during dinner, Ashley dropped the bomb: she was getting engaged. And not just to anyone—to Ethan Miller, the Miller Industries heir. The engagement party was just a week away, at the most expensive six-star hotel downtown. Dad had actually mentioned it briefly when I called him a while back. He said Ashley—oh right, she changed her last name to match Dad’s not long after he married Linda—was dating this guy, a few years older than her. Rich family, powerful connections. Apparently, he treated Ashley like gold, chauffeured her everywhere, catered to her every whim. Just sickeningly sweet, according to Dad. “Seriously? I hear that hotel is insanely expensive. An engagement party there must cost tens of thousands!” Linda exclaimed. “Mom, Ethan’s the only heir to Miller Industries. A little money like that means nothing to him,” Ashley said, preening. “He just doesn’t want me to feel slighted. He wants it to be a huge, grand event.” “Oh, well, that’s very thoughtful of him. So, what do we need to do to help?” Linda asked. “Nothing, Mom. Ethan’s handling everything. I’ve already sent out invitations to all our relatives. You guys just need to show up.” “Well, isn’t that nice!” “Oh, and Mom,” Ashley added, “there will be a lot of guests. Ethan said to make sure everyone brings their invitation – it’s one per person – to keep out any party crashers. Remind Uncle Joe and everyone, okay?” Ashley and Linda were buzzing, chattering excitedly back and forth. Dad, quiet as usual, just sat there watching them, looking pleased. I thought back to what Ashley just said. All relatives got an invitation? Because I definitely didn’t get one. “Ashley,” I piped up, “what about mine? I didn’t get an invitation. Am I not family?” 2 Okay, truth is, Ashley and I never really got along behind the scenes, but we always put on a fake-nice act for Dad. She clearly wasn’t expecting me to call her out right then and there. Her eyes instantly welled up, getting red and teary. Total guilt trip mode activated. “Oh, Sarah, I’m so sorry,” she stammered, her voice thick with fake remorse. “The guest list was just so long… I must have accidentally missed you. And now everything’s finalized, we can’t add anyone…” She bit her lip, looking all pitiful. “How about… how about Ethan and I take you out for a special dinner tomorrow? As an apology? Please don’t be mad. Or… or I could call Ethan right now and see if he can rearrange things?” She made a show of pulling out her phone, pretending she was about to call him. Linda jumped in immediately, grabbing Ashley’s arm. “No, no! We haven’t helped with anything for this engagement party. We can’t bother Ethan with little things like this now! He’ll get annoyed, and what if that makes things difficult for Ashley after they’re married?” Turning to me, Linda added, “It’s just the engagement party, not the wedding. A separate dinner sounds lovely.” Dad thought for a moment, then nodded. “Linda’s right, Sarah. It’s just the engagement. How about this? You can have my invitation. Linda and I can share one.” Ashley looked panicked at Dad’s suggestion. She quickly rubbed her eyes, putting on her best wounded-dove expression. It was clear she really didn’t want me there. I gave Ashley a long look, then turned to Dad. “It’s okay, Dad. You guys go ahead.” I forced a smile. “Like you said, it’s just the engagement. I can always go to the wedding.” “Exactly! See? Sarah understands,” Linda chimed in quickly, piling food onto my plate. Across the table, Ashley shot me a smug, triumphant glance. 3 After dinner, Ashley insisted on walking me downstairs. The second we were out of the apartment and a few steps away, she yanked her hand from my arm like I was contaminated and brushed off her sleeve. “Sarah,” she snapped, her voice dripping with disdain, “there was no mistake with the list. I deliberately didn’t invite you.” “Yeah, I figured,” I said calmly. Her little schemes were always painfully obvious, written all over her face. Only Dad, bless his trusting heart, couldn’t see through her and Linda’s act. My lack of reaction seemed to infuriate her. “Stop pretending, Sarah! God, I’ve always hated how you act so high and mighty, like you’re better than everyone. It’s disgusting.” She sneered. “So you got good grades and make a decent salary. Big deal. Who knows how you really make your money anyway.” I didn’t even bother looking at her. Arguing with her was a complete waste of emotional energy. I turned to leave, but she darted in front of me, blocking my path. “What, did I hit a nerve? Feeling guilty?” “I knew it,” she crowed. “I saw you got a new car recently. There’s no way you could afford something that nice on your salary so quickly. Who’s your sugar daddy?” I rolled my eyes. Unbelievable. The car was a gift—a wedding present from my husband. He’d wanted to get me a Rolls Royce, but I vetoed it—way too flashy. I picked out a modest Honda instead; it was just for commuting, the brand didn’t matter. But seriously? She thought I couldn’t afford a fifteen-thousand-dollar car on my own? Who did she think she was talking to? Dealing with idiots seriously tanks my mood. “Think whatever you want, Ashley,” I sighed. As I started to walk away again, something occurred to me. I stopped and turned back. “Hey, just double-checking… you’re absolutely sure you don’t need me at the engagement party?” She let out a short, sharp laugh. “Positive. Absolutely, one hundred percent positive!” “Okay then,” I shrugged. 4 After graduating college and landing a job, I moved out of Dad’s place. A few years later, I’d saved enough to buy my own small condo. I rarely stayed over at Dad’s—partly because I couldn’t stand being around Linda and Ashley, and partly because I didn’t want to make things awkward for Dad. Dad had told me once that Ashley had a rough childhood. Her biological father was a gambling addict. When he lost, he’d drink and take it out on Linda, hitting and yelling. He’d always be incredibly apologetic the next day, and Linda, being soft-hearted, could never bring herself to leave him. That might have gone on forever, but one night, he came home drunk after losing big. Ashley was just coming out of the bathroom, and he slapped her, hard, right out of the blue. She started screaming. Linda heard the commotion, saw Ashley crying, and was overwhelmed with guilt and pain. That was the final straw. She finally filed for divorce. After Linda married Dad, he learned about Ashley’s past and treated her really well, just like he treated me, his own daughter. Ashley seemed to adore Dad’s calm, gentle nature, always calling him ‘Dad’ affectionately. If it hadn’t been for that one incident, maybe we could have actually been a happy, blended family. But hey, at least Ashley and Linda were decent to Dad, even if Ashley and I didn’t get along. So, I mostly kept my mouth shut. 5 As Ashley’s engagement party approached, I found myself back at Dad’s more often. Ashley, clearly thinking she’d finally one-upped me by snagging a rich fiancé, needed an audience for her bragging. She’d get Dad to call me, saying she wanted to spend more time with her ‘big sister’ before getting married. Dad, naturally, fell for it and urged me to come over. I didn’t want to disappoint him, so I usually agreed. After dinner tonight, Ashley launched into another monologue about her oh-so-grand engagement party. “The hotel usually needs to be booked months in advance, but luckily, the Millers just made one call and sorted it out.” “My dress is custom-made by this exclusive designer Ethan found. Apparently, she only creates gowns for high society women.” “I told Ethan we didn’t need an engagement ring, but he insisted! It’s eight carats. He wanted to get something bigger, but eight is my lucky number, so we went with that for good luck.” “Oh, and here are some gifts we brought back from our trip abroad. For everyone!” Ignoring my obvious lack of interest, Ashley shoved a gift box into my hands, winking dramatically. “Go on, Sarah, open it! I picked this out especially for you.” I opened it. A set of skincare products. Judging by the minimalist, chic packaging, it looked like it came from one of those ultra-exclusive, bespoke skincare boutiques in LA or New York—the kind that analyzes your skin and creates custom formulas. I’d actually visited one with my husband during our honeymoon. Seeing me stare at the box, Ashley assumed I didn’t recognize the brand and adopted a slightly mocking tone. “Don’t worry, Sarah, it’s not some cheap drugstore stuff. It’s from a private custom skincare place overseas. I had it made just for you. It’s very expensive. There’s usually a long waiting list.” Linda winced visibly at the mention of ‘expensive.’ I quietly put the box aside and checked my watch, planning my escape in about ten minutes. “So, Sarah,” Ashley started, a sly glint in her eye, “you’re not getting any younger. When are you planning on getting married?” 6 Ugh, bad timing. Should have left right after getting the gift. Ten more minutes of this? Torture. Ashley waited expectantly for my answer, clearly ready to pounce. “I am married,” I stated simply. “You’re married?!” Dad practically jumped out of his chair, his eyes wide. “When did you get married? Why didn’t I know?” After getting settled in my career, I had legally separated my household registration from Dad’s (basically, handled my own affairs independently). I’d planned on telling Dad about the wedding soon, just hadn’t expected this ambush. I awkwardly explained things to Dad for a while. He knows I’m independent and wouldn’t rush into marriage lightly, so he eventually, reluctantly, accepted it. However, he insisted I bring my husband over to meet him within the week. Thinking they’d meet at Ashley’s engagement party anyway, I readily agreed. Dad seemed satisfied. Ashley, however, was not. I could practically see her gears turning. Her original plan was probably to flaunt Ethan’s connections and condescendingly offer to set me up with someone. My being married ruined her chance to show off her fiancé’s ‘generosity.’ Plan A foiled, she moved to Plan B. She actually asked me to be the one to ‘send her off’ from the house on the morning of the engagement party, claiming it was a tradition in ‘their family’ for the older sister to do it. Seriously? It was an engagement, not a wedding. What tradition? I refused. Predictably, Ashley started crying, wailing about how I didn’t consider her and Linda ‘real family.’ She was quite the actress, tears streaming down her face. It was her go-to tactic—weaponized vulnerability. And Dad, bless his soft heart, fell for it hook, line, and sinker. He agreed on my behalf. Unbelievable. Not invited to the party, but now I was expected to be part of the unpaid help! Ugh… whatever… 7 They called it an engagement, but the scale of it felt more like a full-blown wedding. I had to take a personal day off work for this – poof went my perfect attendance bonus. Thanks, Ashley. In the morning, I helped her try on her gown and sat through hours of makeup application. In the afternoon, I had to help her rehearse the engagement party schedule. She kept saying how many important people would be there and how everything had to be perfect. She wanted me to read the entire timeline to her, over and over. If I suggested she read it herself, the waterworks would start instantly, forcing the makeup artist to do frantic touch-ups. Me: … Are you kidding me… Fine. I read the damn schedule. After an exhausting day of catering to her every whim, it was finally time to ‘send her off.’ A fleet of luxury cars—Porsches, Rolls Royces, Maseratis—lined the street outside Dad’s apartment building. Nosey neighbors crowded around the main car, practically falling over themselves to compliment Ashley, gushing about how capable she was. Linda beamed, unable to contain her grin. To show off, Ashley handed out cash—like $50 or $100 bills—to every neighbor who came out. Even though it wasn’t huge amounts per person, with so many people, it added up quickly. And so, like a conquering queen, Ashley basked in the neighbors’ blessings and climbed into the fancy car, ready for her grand entrance. As the motorcade pulled away, the noisy apartment suddenly fell silent. It was just me. Finally. Peace and quiet. Bliss. I went back to my old room to relax. My phone buzzed with a text message. “Son’s engagement today. Why aren’t you here yet?” I typed back: “Nobody invited me.”

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The day I was supposed to leave for my study abroad program, my stepsister, Ashley—the one everyone thought was the real heiress until the truth came out—showed up at the airport out of nowhere. She threw herself on the ground in front of me, banging her head on the floor, begging. “Chloe, please! I did what you said! I went up to that godforsaken cabin in Appalachia, I dealt with those creepy mountain hermits, all ninety-nine days! Can I have the study abroad spot back now? Please?” My boyfriend, Ethan, the campus golden boy, immediately ripped up my plane ticket. Trip canceled, just like that. Then he arranged for me to be taken deep into the remote Appalachian wilderness – the real deep woods, miles from anywhere. No phone, no contact. He wanted me to experience what he thought Ashley had gone through, but worse. I survived out there for three years. Three years of being treated like an animal by the feral men who lived off the grid. They used me… used me until I barely felt human. I even lost a baby out there, a stillbirth brought on by the horror. The day Ethan finally showed up in a helicopter to get me, I overheard him on the radio, talking to someone back home. “Yeah, I know Ashley lied,” he said, his voice tinny through the speaker. “She never went to Appalachia, never saw any ‘hermits.’ But if I didn’t play along, she wouldn’t have gotten that scholarship slot. Besides, Chloe… she’s the actual daughter, the one inheriting everything. Missing one semester abroad? It’s nothing to her in the long run.” He paused. “Look, once I get her back, I’ll propose. I’ll make it up to her.” My heart turned to ice. I strapped on an emergency parachute I found stashed away, wrenched open the cabin door, and jumped. “I’m not going back,” I screamed over the wind. “Just leave me here in the mountains!” Ethan lunged, grabbing my hand, his face a mask of panic, begging me to come back. … The roar of the helicopter blades was deafening, the wind tearing at my ragged clothes. I instinctively tried to duck behind a tree, but Ethan grabbed my wrist, hard. His face was tight with anger as he dragged me towards the chopper, not caring as branches scraped my skin raw. “Didn’t you cry and beg me to come get you? What’s this stunt now?” His angry voice triggered something deep inside me. Almost automatically, out of pure muscle memory from the past three years, I dropped to my knees in front of him, ready to beg for mercy. Ethan froze, his expression darkening. “Chloe, for God’s sake! It’s been three years, haven’t you learned anything? Do I have to force you to leave?” I looked up at him blankly. The name ‘Chloe’ sounded strange, unfamiliar after so long. Out there, they didn’t use my name. They called me… things. Treated me like property, something to use whenever they felt the urge. At first, I fought back. Used sticks, rocks, anything I could find. But fighting only earned me worse beatings, bites… They tied me up with the livestock sometimes. When winter hit hard, they treated me like emergency rations, taking pieces… drinking my blood. Their needs were constant, brutal. Hours of torment, every single day. Afterwards, I’d often be bleeding, my whole body aching like I’d been run over by a truck. Months into it, I delivered a stillborn baby. It looked like a tiny infant, but… the memory is a blur of pain and horror. Ethan gave me a rough shove, his patience clearly gone. Without thinking, I pulled off my tattered jacket, exposing myself. When he just stood there, staring, I instinctively reached for his belt buckle. He shoved me away violently, his face turning purple with rage. “Chloe! Have you lost all sense of decency?!” he yelled. “Just three years! Have you forgotten what shame even is?” His shouting stunned me. I pressed myself against him, desperate. “I’m sorry! Whatever you want, I’ll do it!” That seemed to ignite his fury. He grabbed my throat, his eyes blazing. “Chloe, when did you become so… cheap?” His fists clenched, his teeth grinding. It terrified me. Images of the men in the woods flashed through my mind – the beatings, the violation. I scrambled backwards, shaking, my face paling. “Don’t hit me! Please, don’t hit me! I’ll do anything, just don’t hit me…” My voice was thin, trembling. “Whatever makes you happy, I’ll do it.” The terror washed over me, suffocating me with helplessness. He squinted, studying me with suspicion, but anger quickly took over again. “Stop acting!” he snapped. “I know you hate me for leaving you in this hellhole, but playing the victim won’t work!” “Weren’t you always so high and mighty? Looking down your nose at everyone? Now look at you, acting like a bitch in heat!” He sneered, a cruel twist to his lips. He wasn’t wrong. Before all this, I was proud, maybe even arrogant, thanks to my family’s name and money. I expected the best, even in a partner. Ethan had seemed perfect then. But after three years of being treated like less than human in those mountains, pride was a luxury I couldn’t afford. I remembered when I first got stranded. I frantically called Ethan on the cheap burner phone I’d had, begging him to help me. But the call connected, and I heard a woman’s soft sobbing. Ashley. “Ethan,” she sniffled, “are you sure about this? Leaving her out there… isn’t it too much?” Then Ethan’s cold voice. “You’re too soft, Ash. After everything she did to you? You’re still defending her.” “I’m just teaching her a lesson. When she finally admits she was wrong, I’ll bring her back.” Ashley sniffled again. “Maybe we should just forget it? I already forgave her, really.” “She ruined your reputation, almost cost you everything! What she did… she’ll pay for it, tenfold,” Ethan growled. “Baby, stop crying now, we’ve got better things to do…” I clutched the phone, listening in horror as the sounds turned intimate, unmistakable gasps and moans filling the silence. My world shattered. Soon after, the phone died, cutting off my last link to the outside world. “Chloe, I’m warning you,” Ethan snarled now, pulling me back to the present. “My patience is running out.” He hauled me to my feet and shoved me into the helicopter. “Enough with the drama. Come home. But if you ever try to hurt Ashley again, don’t think I won’t throw you right back into this wilderness!” 2 I knew Ethan was my only ticket out of this nightmare, so I didn’t resist anymore. I just shut down. He frowned, clearly disgusted, and waved over the paramedic traveling with them. “Check her out. I want to see if she’s really hurt or just putting on a show.” He glared at me. “Chloe, I’m warning you, don’t think playing pitiful will get you off the hook.” “You will apologize to Ashley. Properly. Or I swear, I’ll kick you out of this helicopter mid-air. You don’t want another three years out there, do you?” The mere thought sent a violent tremor through my body. I huddled, shaking like a leaf. But when the paramedic approached, I flinched away violently, clutching my ragged jacket, refusing to let go. He was rough, ripping the fabric, pulling out clumps of my hair in the process. I hadn’t bathed properly in years, living in filth with animals. As my clothes came off, a foul stench filled the small cabin. My body was exposed – a roadmap of scars from whips, bites, and God knows what else. My lower body was almost entirely covered in ugly, raised scars. There wasn’t an inch of smooth skin left. Even the paramedic looked stunned, his hands trembling as he tried to examine me. “Mr. Thompson,” he said hesitantly, “Ms. Vance’s injuries are severe. She needs immediate hospital treatment.” Ethan’s eyes were cold, dismissive. “She’d do anything to get my sympathy,” he cut the paramedic off impatiently. “Don’t fall for her little pity party.” The paramedic shut his mouth, but his eyes held a flicker of pity as he looked at me. Ethan pinched his nose against the smell and tossed a spare jacket at me. “Three years, and you haven’t learned a thing. Still resorting to cheap tricks like faking injuries.” He scowled. “Don’t try any funny business. I’m not soft-hearted like Ashley.” His icy stare felt like a threat. Misinterpreting it, convinced he was about to hit me, my body reacted on instinct. I scrambled towards him, pressing myself against his legs, trying to appease him the only way I knew how anymore. I felt Ethan’s body go rigid. His neck flushed red with fury. He ripped me off him, his voice tight, teeth grinding. “Chloe! What is wrong with you? You’re acting like a bitch in heat!” My eyes were blank. I felt no shame, only fear of the blow I expected to follow. Seeing my lack of reaction seemed to infuriate him even more. “You almost destroyed Ashley’s life! And you have the nerve to stand there playing dumb?” He grabbed my arm. “Let’s go! You’re going to apologize to her. Now!” He dragged me into the main cabin area. Ashley was sitting there, pretending to read a book. The moment she saw me, she unbuckled her seatbelt and rushed over, bursting into tears. Her eyes, full of fake sympathy and pity, scanned my ruined appearance. “Oh, Chloe! Sister! It’s all my fault,” she sobbed, clinging to me. “If Ethan hadn’t been so determined to stand up for me, you wouldn’t have suffered out there in the wilderness.” She dabbed at her eyes. “He wouldn’t let me come get you, you know. I wanted to, so badly!” She choked back another sob, burying her face in her hands. Seeing my numb, unresponsive state, a flicker of triumphant satisfaction crossed Ashley’s face before she could hide it. As soon as Ethan stepped away to talk to the pilot, her mask dropped completely. “Those rescue messages you kept trying to send Ethan?” she whispered venomously, a smirk playing on her lips. “I deleted every single one. He never saw them.” Her eyes glittered with malice. “So, tell me, dear sister, how did it feel? Being ‘entertained’ by those charming mountain men?” I stared at her, disbelief warring with the dawning horror. Why? Why would she do this to me? Before I could even form the question, Ashley suddenly slapped herself across the face. Hard. She immediately started crying again, clutching her cheek, looking utterly pathetic and wronged. “Sister, I know you blame me!” she wailed, just loud enough for Ethan to hear. “Hit me, yell at me, I deserve it! But did you have to hit my face? I have that performance next week! Are you trying to ruin my career too?” Ethan spun around at the sound. Seeing the red mark blooming on Ashley’s cheek, his face hardened instantly. He strode over and backhanded me across the face, sending me sprawling to the floor. My head exploded with white noise, a loud ringing in my ears. “Chloe, are you insane?!” Ethan roared. “If you won’t learn your lesson, then I’ll teach it to you myself!” He ripped the silver chain from around his neck, wrapping it tightly around his knuckles. He clenched his fist and started walking towards me, his face a mask of cold fury. 3 Half of Ethan’s face was lost in shadow, making him look terrifyingly like the men from the woods. Their faces swam in my memory – eyes gleaming with predatory light, tearing at my clothes while I screamed, lashing me with thorny branches just to watch me bleed. My terrified cries only seemed to excite them more. Like a cornered rabbit, I scrambled behind a seat, trembling uncontrollably. “Don’t hit me! Don’t hit me! I’m sorry! I know I was wrong!” Driven by pure terror, I ripped off the jacket he’d given me, kneeling on the floor and instinctively arching my back, presenting myself in the degrading way they had trained me to. Ethan’s face contorted with disgust and rage. He kicked me hard, sending me tumbling sideways. “Have you got absolutely no shame left?!” he yelled, his voice cracking. Of course, I knew shame. But could shame feed me in the wilderness? Could it stop those brutes from beating me? He grabbed a handful of my hair, yanking my head back and slamming it against the armrest of the seat. Again. And again. Sticky warmth trickled down my forehead, blurring my vision with blood. Pain flared through me. Looking up at Ethan’s furious, contorted face, tears finally started to well in my eyes. I remembered when we first got together. He wouldn’t let me suffer the smallest discomfort. He took care of everything, even silly things like putting on my socks for me before we went out. I used to tease him, asking if he was trying to turn me into a helpless doll. He’d sworn then, so sincerely, that he didn’t care if I became helpless; he’d happily spend his life devoted to me. But everything changed when Ashley appeared. She stole my parents’ affection, then she stole the man who claimed to love me. And then she orchestrated three years of hell for me in that wilderness. The paramedic from the front cabin rushed back and pulled Ethan off me before he could do more damage. Ethan glared down at me, breathing heavily, and let out a scornful laugh. “Don’t think playing dead will save you.” He spat the words out. “You made your mistakes, and you will pay for them. Don’t think you can trick your way out of it.” He dragged me towards the back where the paramedic had his equipment set up. But the sight of the examination table and the metal instruments sent a fresh wave of panic through me. I started screaming, fighting him. Ethan cursed and slammed me down onto the narrow bed, holding me there while the paramedic tried to examine my legs. It felt just like before. Those men in the woods, tying my arms and legs with vines, spreading me out like an animal sacrifice for their amusement. In the winter, they loved stripping me naked and forcing me to crawl in the snow, bleating like a sheep. If I moved too slowly, they’d whip the soles of my feet raw with thorny sticks. My screams were like fuel to their cruelty. Sometimes they used sharp rocks, other times rough, splintery branches… inside me. They wouldn’t stop until I was barely conscious. Slowly, piece by piece, they had broken me, tamed me like a wild animal. I learned not to fight back, just to endure, hoping it would lessen the pain. “Are you faking this, or are you really sick?” Ethan growled, pinning me down. “The doctor will find out.” My body wouldn’t stop shaking, which Ethan clearly took as a sign of guilt. “If I find out you’re faking,” he hissed, his face close to mine, “I’ll make you regret it!” His sudden shout terrified me. I tumbled off the bed, scrambling to his feet, banging my head on the floor, begging for mercy. When he didn’t immediately strike me, I dared to reach out, touching his pant leg, looking up with pleading eyes, trying to appease him. He seized my wrist, his grip like iron, threatening to crush the bone. “I knew it! You are faking!” he snarled. “You’d even pull this crap just to get me to forgive you!” Pain shot up my arm, cold sweat breaking out on my skin, but I only dared to whimper softly. Ethan flung my hand away, but his voice softened slightly, surprisingly. “Look, I know you nearly ruined Ashley’s life. I know you’re scared I’ll punish you, so you came up with this ‘crazy act’ routine.” He took a breath. “Just let the doctor check you out. Apologize properly to Ashley, and… I’ll still treat you like my wife.” He pulled me back onto the bed. Ignoring my desperate cries, he and the paramedic worked together, strapping my arms and legs down securely. The paramedic examined me for what felt like an eternity. Finally, he stepped out, his brow furrowed, looking grim. “Mr. Thompson, the results are in…” Ethan was instantly alert. “Well? Is she faking?” “Sir,” the paramedic said slowly, choosing his words carefully, “Ms. Vance has suffered severe psychological trauma… PTSD. That explains her… erratic behavior.” He hesitated. “And the scars on her lower body… they’re consistent with… with bite marks. Human bite marks, sir. Torn flesh.” He swallowed hard. “There’s also severe internal tearing and infection… consistent with repeated, brutal sexual assault…” The words hit Ethan like a physical blow. He just stood there, frozen, staring towards the curtained-off bed where I lay, his face utterly stunned, disbelieving. 4 “How could she…” Ethan whispered, his voice barely audible, filled with dawning confusion. He seemed to be questioning everything. But then, just as quickly, a cynical laugh escaped him. “Chloe’s always been manipulative. She’s too calculating to let herself get really hurt.” His voice hardened again. “This has to be another act. A desperate ploy to make me feel guilty.” He ripped back the curtain separating the examination area, his eyes narrowed, sharp as knives. “If I find out you lied to me about this, Chloe…” His words died in his throat as he saw me. Really saw me. I lay there, exposed on the narrow bed. The lower half of my body was a ruin of scar tissue, purpled and white, completely covering the skin. The edges of some scars clearly showed the jagged pattern of teeth marks. Near my inner thighs, the skin was raw, inflamed, weeping a mixture of blood and greenish pus. Even Ethan, with his anger and coldness, couldn’t help but recoil, sucking in a sharp breath. The sight was horrific. “How…? How did this happen?” he stammered, looking genuinely shaken. “I just left you in the mountains for three years. That’s all! And I told that park ranger, Mike, to keep an eye on you, make sure you were basically okay! How could you end up like… like this?” The Appalachian backcountry is vast and dangerous. Even experienced hikers with full gear get lost or injured. Sending me out there alone, a city girl with nothing… what did he think would happen? And as for the ranger… Mike… Just then, the walkie-talkie on Ethan’s belt crackled to life. “Mr. Thompson? Hey, uh, why’d you take that little piece back with you?” The voice was rough, familiar. Chillingly familiar. Static hissed, but I knew that voice instantly. It belonged to Mike, the ranger Ethan had supposedly told to “look after” me. He was the one who’d zap me with a cattle prod whenever I got too close to the edge of the territory, trying to find a way out. Once, I fell to my knees, begging him to just get a message to Ethan for me. He just grinned, showing yellow teeth, and unbuckled his belt in front of his buddies. “Maybe if you take real good care of me and the boys first,” he’d leered, “I might think about it…” I tried to run, but his men surrounded me. They dragged me into a dark shed… I was bleeding heavily when they finally let me go. Mike’s voice now, on the radio, was laced with a slimy attempt at camaraderie. “Mr. Thompson, sir, you told us to give that hot little thing some ‘special attention,’ make her learn her lesson, right? Me and the boys, we put in a lot of effort, yes sir.” He chuckled darkly. “She was a feisty one at first, I’ll give her that. Bit one of my guys bad, even after we broke a couple of her fingers.” He laughed again. “But she’s real obedient now. Real well-trained. Does whatever you tell her. Been real… fun having her around.” The walkie-talkie crackled with Mike’s self-satisfied laughter. His ugly, leering face floated in my mind’s eye, refusing to leave. The color drained from Ethan’s face. His hand holding the radio started to tremble. “You… you did what?” His voice was a strangled whisper. “Sir?” Mike sounded confused. “Wasn’t that the plan? You said she framed Miss Ashley, deserved whatever she got out here, left to rot?” Ethan lowered his voice, speaking into the radio, but his eyes were ice-cold, staring into nothing. “Actually,” he said, almost to himself, “I knew Ashley was lying. She never went to Shennongjia, never saw any wild men.” He took a shaky breath. “But if I didn’t go along with it, Ashley wouldn’t get that study abroad spot. And Chloe… she’s the real heiress, set for life. Missing one little trip abroad means nothing to her.” He sighed, a ragged sound. “Forget it. Once I get her back home, I’ll propose. Marry her. I’ll make it up to her then.” My head snapped up. I stared at Ethan’s back, the tiny spark of hope I hadn’t even realized I was holding onto instantly extinguished. It wasn’t just negligence. It was deliberate. Calculated. While everyone was distracted by the radio conversation, I moved. Quick and silent. I grabbed the emergency parachute pack I’d spotted earlier, fumbled with the straps, pulled it on. With every ounce of strength I had left, I threw open the helicopter door. Ethan whipped around, his eyes wide with terror. “Chloe! What are you doing?!” My heart felt like a lead weight. With a final, desolate look back, I jumped. “I’m not going back!” I screamed into the wind shear. “Just leave me in the mountains!”

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After college graduation, my dad wanted me to take over his company. Problem was, I had zero real-world experience and was terrified I’d run it into the ground. I talked it over with Dad, and we came up with a plan: I’d go undercover. Apply for an entry-level job at his company like any normal person, learn the ropes for six months, get some experience, and really see what makes the place tick from the inside. So, I dragged my boyfriend, Luke Fisher, who also majored in business management, along with me to apply. Let’s be real, people can be super materialistic these days. Guys often chase girls based on their family connections, specifically targeting rich girls. I was worried Luke might be one of those guys – only interested in what I had, not who I was. When Luke first asked me out freshman year, I spun a little white lie. Told him my parents were just regular folks, nothing fancy. Since turning eighteen, I’d been financially independent anyway, never asking Mom and Dad for a dime. I paid my own way through college working holidays and summers – tutoring, waiting tables at Starbucks, you name it. Whatever I could do to earn it myself.

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Ten years ago, Michael Davis’s kidneys failed, and I was the only match in the country. His socialite sister, Ashley Davis, contacted me about donating, and it was love at first sight – for her, at least. She basically strong-armed me into giving up a kidney and marrying her. After our baby died, I filed for divorce. She went ballistic, ran me out of town. I ended up in some small-town dump, opening a diner just to survive. A few peaceful years went by, and then Michael’s kidneys went south again. Ashley calls the diner, demanding I give up my last kidney to save her darling Michael. She said scum like me didn’t matter; her precious Michael had to live. My diner partner, Sarah, answered the phone, shocked and helpless. “But, Ashley, you know John’s got kidney disease himself. He’s in the hospital, not doing well. He can’t donate a kidney!” “Where’s John? Get him on the phone!” Ashley’s voice was shrill and nasty. Her stilettos clicked on the pavement. She didn’t believe I was sick, so she came looking for me. Sarah stood in the diner doorway, her pretty face etched with worry. “Ashley, he’s really not here…” “Not here? He’s hiding!” Ashley sneered, her eyes like poisoned darts. “Get that coward out here! Michael needs a kidney! He owes me his life, and it’s time to pay up!” Sarah bit her lip, her voice low but firm. “He can’t donate! His kidneys are failing. They’re damaged!” “He’s just saying that because he doesn’t want to donate!” Ashley scoffed. She waved her hand, and the goons she brought with her started trashing the diner. Tables overturned, dishes shattered, and our cozy little place turned into a disaster zone in seconds. Sarah’s eyes filled with tears, but she couldn’t do anything to stop them. She pulled out her phone and started a video call to me. “John…” Sarah’s voice cracked. On the screen, I could see the carnage. “Ashley’s here… she wants you to give Michael a kidney. And she’s wrecking the place…” I watched in silence for a minute, then said in a hoarse voice, “Put Ashley on.” Ashley’s face filled the screen. It was the first time we’d seen each other since she ran me out of DC. For a split second, I saw a flash of something complicated in her eyes, but then it was gone, replaced by pure rage. Her beautiful face was twisted with anger. The familiarity was gone. My heart clenched. Back when she was chasing after me, that face was always smiling. “Ashley, leave Sarah alone,” I said. My voice was quiet, but firm. “John?!” Ashley shrieked, her voice piercing. “You finally showed your face! What, you gonna play dead now? Let me tell you something, you ARE going to donate a kidney to Michael! Right now! Immediately!” I took a breath, my voice weak. “I’ve got kidney disease, remember? I’m in the hospital. I can’t donate. And… I want to live a little longer, spend time with Lily.” I turned the camera to show my pale face, the messy hair, the hospital room, the machines. Ashley didn’t care. She just laughed. “Oh, please! What movie set are you filming this on? You think I’m stupid? You just want to keep screwing around with Sarah. You don’t need to drag Lily into this, you little…” I winced at her language, but I held my tongue. “If you don’t agree to donate, I swear to God, this isn’t over,” Ashley snarled, and then she turned and walked out. I watched her disappear from the screen, feeling sick with dread. I told Sarah to be careful, and maybe even close up shop for a while. Sarah looked worried, but she tried to reassure me. “Don’t worry. It’s broad daylight. She wouldn’t do anything crazy.” 2 Ashley’s revenge was even crazier than I thought. Less than an hour later, Lily’s teacher sent me a video, her voice frantic. “Mr. Smith, someone’s handing out flyers at the school. They’re saying awful things about Lily…” “Lily Smith! Your dad’s a cheater! Your mom’s a whore! You’re a bastard!” Kids chanting, like some kind of twisted chorus. Even over the phone, it made my skin crawl. Outside the elementary school, a crowd of people held up flyers with pictures of me and Sarah, and a big photo of Lily, along with the nastiest words you could imagine. My daughter was only nine years old! How could Ashley be so heartless? “Ashley! Stop it!” I yelled into the phone, my voice cracking. “Come after me! Leave Lily out of this!” “Can’t take the heat?” Ashley’s voice dripped with satisfaction. “You think you’re so high and mighty, screwing around with that tramp while you’re still married? Now you know how it feels! Should’ve thought about that before.” “Ashley, what happened back then…” I started to explain, but the words caught in my throat. I’d sworn I wouldn’t reveal the truth. “Shut up!” Ashley screamed. “Don’t you dare try to weasel your way out of this! John, if you pull any more stunts, I’ll ruin your daughter! She won’t be able to show her face in this city, in this country!” “You’re going too far! I can call the cops!” My voice was weak. “Call the cops? Hahahaha…” Ashley laughed like a maniac. “John, have you learned nothing since you left me? You call them! See who gives a damn!” I dropped the phone, completely drained. Ashley wasn’t bluffing. She could do it. I called Sarah, my voice trembling. “Get to the school! Pick up Lily! Now!” Sarah got there after the crowd had dispersed, but the damage was done. As they arrived back at the apartment we rented, I was talking to my daughter on video chat. The little girl was a mess, tears streaming down her face. Suddenly, chaos erupted on the other end of the line. “Shameless slut! Living in our neighborhood with your bastard kid!” “Get out! We don’t want you here!” “Kill the home-wrecker! Kill the bastard!” I watched helplessly as a mob surrounded Sarah and Lily, pointing fingers, yelling, even throwing things. Sarah hugged Lily tight, trying to shield her with her body. Tears welled up in her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. “It’s okay, Lily. I’m here…” Sarah’s voice trembled, but she tried to stay calm. “Mom… I’m scared…” Lily clung to Sarah’s neck, shaking like a leaf. My heart was breaking. I wanted to be there, to protect them. I could barely keep myself from screaming. She’d even stirred up the homeowners’ association, spreading lies about me and Sarah, calling Lily illegitimate. This woman was completely out of her mind! I was racking my brain, trying to think of a way to clear Sarah and Lily’s names, when Ashley struck again. She had people fake food poisoning at the diner! A group of them started clutching their stomachs and writhing on the floor, claiming they were dying. They even threw up everywhere. The other customers freaked out and ran for the exits. I had to pay out a ton of money to make it go away. But it didn’t end there. She hired some internet troll to spread rumors about dirty food at the diner, using those videos of the “sick” customers to back it up. Overnight, my reputation was ruined, and business dried up. With no income, I had to check out of the hospital. That made Ashley even happier. She was convinced I’d been faking the whole time. She showed up at my apartment with a crew, and they completely wrecked the place. Splattered red paint all over the walls, broke furniture, even ripped up Lily’s favorite doll. 3 “So, not sick anymore?!” Ashley stood amidst the wreckage, looking smug. Looking at her, all I felt was disappointment. “Ashley, we were married. Why do you have to be like this?” Ashley laughed. “Because you wouldn’t listen to reason! Michael needs your kidney, and you refuse to give it to him!” “I’m telling you, my kidneys are shot. They wouldn’t do him any good!” I said, carefully. “Give me a break!” Ashley didn’t believe a word of it. “John, if you don’t agree to donate, I swear I’ll make you regret it!” “Ashley, are you trying to kill me?” I closed my eyes, exhausted. “Kill you? Hahahaha…” Ashley’s laugh was manic. “John, I want you to suffer more than death!” The look on her face sent a chill down my spine. “John, if you still refuse to donate, don’t blame me for what happens to your precious daughter!” Ashley glared at Lily, who was hiding in a corner, her voice dripping with menace. My fists clenched. “Ashley, come after me, not her! She’s just a kid!” “That little brat deserves everything she gets!” Ashley’s voice was sharp. She stepped closer. “You, her, and your little mistress, you all deserve to die!” A surge of heat rushed to my head, and my vision blurred. I knew Ashley hated me, hated me for “betraying” her all those years ago, for “killing” her child. But Lily was innocent! “Ashley, what happened back then isn’t what you think…” I tried to explain, but she cut me off. “Shut up! I don’t want to hear your lies! You owe me a life, and it’s time to pay up!” “You…” I trembled with rage. “John, last chance. Donate or don’t?” Ashley’s voice was like a snake. Looking at her, I felt a surge of despair. I couldn’t let anything happen to Lily, but if I agreed, I’d die. What would happen to Lily then? “I won’t donate!” I bit out the words, drawing a line in the sand. “Fine! Fine! Fine!” Ashley laughed, her eyes blazing. “John, you asked for this!” She waved her hand, and a couple of thugs grabbed Lily, who started to scream. “Daddy, help me!” Her scream tore at my heart. “Lily!” My chest tightened, and I lurched forward, but the thugs grabbed me and held me back. “John, let’s see how you like it when someone you care about gets hurt!” Ashley said, her voice cold. “I’m going to send her to a club and let them do whatever they want with her!” “No!” I screamed, helpless. “Daddy… help me…” Lily’s cries faded as she was dragged toward the door. My heart turned to ash. “Ashley, let her go! Please!” I gave up on pride and got down on my knees, begging. Ashley watched without emotion. “Take her away!” She ordered, her voice hard as ice. The thugs dragged Lily away, and her cries echoed through the room. “Ashley! Stop! My baby died, Lily is your daughter!” Sarah shouted as she rushed in, her face pale with a mix of anger and terror. “Daughter?” Ashley scoffed, her voice like ice. “Don’t think I’m stupid enough to believe that little brat is your little bastard. You and John rented those doors, what was I supposed to think?” “She robbed my baby of her heart, she should have died!” Sarah wept openly. “Ashley, she really is your daughter! Back then…” “I don’t want to hear any more of your lies!” Ashley shrieked, pointing at Lily and yelling at the thugs, “Take her away! Send her to the club, and tell those guys to get really rough with her!” “No! Leave my daughter alone!” I struggled, but they held me down. “Daddy… help me…” Lily’s cries faded, and my heart shattered. A mouthful of blood came pouring out of my mouth, and I collapsed. 4 “Dad! Dad, what’s wrong?!” Lily wailed, terrified. She struggled to get free, but the thugs held her tight. “Let me go! I have to help my dad!” “John! John!” Sarah threw herself beside me, her tears falling like rain. I was on the floor, but Ashley just laughed, assuming I was faking it. She glared down at me, hatred burning in her eyes. “John, don’t think you can get out of this by playing dead! I swear, even if you die, I won’t let your daughter go!” Lily was dragged away, her cries ripping through the air. Michael hid where I couldn’t see him. He spoke into the phone, low and fast. “Take care of the girl, rough her up.” In the club basement, a few heavily tattooed guys grinned. Michael pulled them out of jail. They tortured people, and they’re waiting for the next victim. Ashley smirked. Lily begged for forgiveness. “I’m scared,” she said. “Shut up,” Ashley said. “You stole my daughter’s heart.” One of the men asked, “Miss Davis, this girl looks like you, is she your daughter?” “She can’t be.” Michael lied, “It is your daughter’s heart, which is why she looks like you.” “Torture her,” Ashley said. Ashley left. “Torture her! Beat her! Make sure you record it!” Lily was tortured to death. “I got revenge on my daughter.”

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During my craniotomy, that backstabbing medical student, Ashley Miller, deliberately swapped out my anesthesia. I was wide awake the whole time, tears streaming down my face, but she told everyone it was an “awake craniotomy.” My last call before surgery, I cried to my fiancé, Chase, for help, but he cut me off, annoyed: “Brooke, not everyone is as two-faced as you are.” “Ashley’s being incredibly generous, giving you this surgery after everything. Just cooperate, okay? Stop making a scene!” Then, she snatched the phone away. My scalp was sliced open, my skull drilled into. I was tortured to death, leaving a dying declaration pointing the finger at Ashley Miller. But Chase testified for Ashley: “Brooke’s chances of surviving the surgery were always slim. Her death has nothing to do with Ashley.” I blinked, and I was back in the OR, the moment they switched the anesthesia. … “Brooke, you think those scraps you threw my way to ‘help’ me made you better than me?” “So what if you’re a Park Avenue princess? Chase treats you like dirt, anyway. I just mentioned it once, and he handed you over to me to experiment on.” Ashley’s voice was low and icy, right by my ear. My mind was swimming with the diluted anesthetic, and I snapped my eyes open. The sharp smell of disinfectant, the blinding surgical lights – it all hit me. I was back. Back to the day of my craniotomy, with Ashley performing the surgery. In the last life, she swapped my meds with a low dose of anesthetic, leaving me conscious during the whole thing, fully aware of the agonizing pain and terror of having my skull cut open. “What do you say, wanna call Chase again and double-check?” Snapping back to reality, Ashley had already dialed Chase’s number. She raised an eyebrow at me, a smug look on her face, and tossed the phone onto my chest, then turned to prep her surgical tools. Just like last time, Chase’s voice was cold and impatient: “Ashley comes from old money. She’s way too good to risk her reputation by hurting you.” “Just cooperate with the awake craniotomy, and you’ll live. It’ll also get her a promotion. Win-win, Brooke. Can you stop being so dramatic?” He knew damn well that awake craniotomies weren’t for everyone, especially when it was only Ashley’s second surgery. She could barely hold a scalpel steady. Maybe the low dose of anesthetic was kicking in, because I couldn’t feel my limbs anymore. Chase said my name. He said something else, but I couldn’t make it out. I didn’t beg him to save me this time. I hung up and, with shaking hands, tried to call Dad. My family never liked Chase. I secretly hooked him up with connections and resources, turning him into a hotshot businessman. Only then did they back off. If they knew Chase and Ashley were screwing me over like this, they’d go ballistic. “Dad…” But she snatched the phone away as soon as I dialed. Ashley hung up right in front of me. “I knew you’d pull something.” Ashley deliberately waved her trembling hands in my face. Her eyes, shielded by the surgical mask, were full of hate. Shadows moved around me, creeping over my head. The surgical lights were so bright I couldn’t see what she was doing, and the idea of what might happen was worse than seeing it. I could still feel the excruciating pain of my last life. The cold, sharp scalpel pressed against my scalp. My heart was about to burst, but I couldn’t move. Just when I thought I was doomed to repeat the same nightmare, the OR door swung open. My best friend, Chloe, glanced at the heart monitor and stopped Ashley: “Ashley, are you crazy? The anesthesia’s not strong enough. She’s still conscious. How can you start surgery without enough meds?” Chloe glared at everyone else in the room: “Ashley’s out of line, and you’re all going along with it? If the chief finds out, you’re all screwed!” The others looked at each other, uneasy. 2 Ashley scoffed: “You mean Chase? Funny you mention him, he just called and said he’s giving me full control over Brooke’s surgery.” “Don’t believe me? Want me to call him again?” After Ashley shot them a hard look, the other people in the room all looked down. Last time, Ashley waltzed all over the hospital, pretending to be me, with Chase always backing her up. No one dared to cross her. Chloe was furious. “Get out of my way!” Ashley shoved her, and Chloe stumbled, knocking over a scalpel, which cut her cheek. “Who’s the surgeon here? You or me? Keep interfering, and I’ll have the chief fire you!” Chloe squeezed my hand reassuringly, then turned to leave. I grabbed her pinkie finger. Last time, Chloe was so angry she went to Chase. After I died, Chase blamed her for everything, ruining her reputation. She ended up jumping off a bridge. I didn’t want to hurt her again. I forced the words out: “Don’t…Chase. Go… CEO…Miller Group…” Chloe frantically nodded, tears streaming down her face. But Ashley grabbed her and slapped her across the face: “The surgery’s not done yet. Where do you think you’re going? Gonna run to Daddy? You wish.” “Ashley… let…Chloe…go!” I was beyond angry, but I was weak and helpless, barely able to speak. I could only stare at her: “That’s…Dad… touch… me… you’ll… pay… tenfold!” Ashley laughed, ignoring my warning: “You say you’re a Park Avenue princess? Look around. Does anyone here believe you?” Everyone avoided eye contact, pretending they didn’t see anything. They clearly agreed with Ashley. My heart sank. Ashley leaned closer, whispering in my ear: “Besides, even if you are who you say you are, if you die here today, Daddy will let me into the family. I’ll be the real Park Avenue princess.” “Fake will become real.” My eyes widened. I was consumed by hate, but my tongue was numb. I drooled, unable to say a word. Ashley smiled, satisfied. As she gloated, Chloe suddenly broke free and ran for the door. But a few guys in black suits came in and grabbed Chloe, shoving her in front of Ashley. “Ms. Miller, the chief said to go ahead with the surgery. We’ll make sure no one bothers you.” “Whether the surgery is a success or not, we won’t let anything bad happen to you.” Ashley raised her eyebrows at me, mocking me. My heart dropped. I realized Chase was back too. He’d even sent security to keep my dying words from getting out. This was the man I’d loved for seven years. It was all so twisted. An injection knocked Chloe out cold. The bodyguards lined up at the OR door, and Ashley moved over me. The low dose of anesthesia only left me weak. My mind was clear enough to feel my scalp being cut open. I was shaking all over. I could barely speak, and I couldn’t stop thinking about the bloodbath. My heart pounded in my chest, and my blood pressure spiked. Then the phone rang. A nurse ran in, her face white, and handed it to Ashley: “Dr. Miller, Ms. Miller wants you to take this call.” 3 Ashley flinched, and the blade made a long cut on my scalp. I felt a flicker of hope and whispered: “Sis…” But Ashley clamped her hand over my mouth. Her bloody hand pressed down on the respirator and the tubes in my nose and throat. Blood streamed from the wound on my head, and I could only stare at Ashley. I couldn’t say a word. Even breathing was hard. Ashley turned her head, lowering her voice: “Sis, the surgery’s not done yet. Yeah, Dr. Jones is the main surgeon. I’m just assisting. No, it’s going well.” “Don’t worry, we’re doing our best. I’ll call you later…” “She’s lying!” Chloe yelled, gritting her teeth. Ashley glared and nodded at the bodyguards, who covered Chloe’s mouth and gave her another shot. I struggled to make a sound to get to my sister, but it was useless. A few nurses held down my hands, copying Ashley and covering my mouth. Ashley held the phone with one hand and the scalpel with the other, making random cuts on my scalp: “It’s okay, Sis, don’t worry.” “Patients under anesthesia often get confused and say crazy things. It’s normal.” Every cut made tears stream down my face, and I couldn’t stop shaking. Last time, Ashley was on her phone while doing a C-section, and she screwed up and left a piece of gauze in the woman’s stomach. By the time they found it, the woman was burning up with sepsis. Chase paid to keep it quiet. Ashley was trying to kill me. She hung up, and a nurse leaned in, hesitant: “Dr. Miller, the patient’s blood pressure is dangerously high. Her heart rate is too fast. She’s going to suffocate.” Ashley didn’t say anything, just gave her a look. The nurse shut her mouth and backed away. My vision was going white, and my head was spinning. I couldn’t tell if it was the anesthesia or lack of oxygen. I thought I heard the sound of the drill. Buzzing, buzzing, just like last time. Why was this happening again? But I didn’t want to die. I looked at the lights, unable to breathe. Then, I heard voices. Chase walked in, wearing a white coat, and I tensed up. But he didn’t even glance at me. He smiled and patted Ashley on the head: “How much longer? Your sister’s waiting outside to take us all out to dinner when you’re done.” His voice was sweet and gentle, a total contrast to how he treated me. I’d been disappointed too many times. I barely reacted to seeing him. Only the word “sister” kept me from passing out. I don’t know what Chase said, but Ashley laughed and leaned into him. The drill slipped. It felt like my scalp was being ripped off. I clenched my jaw, staring at the surgical instruments thirty centimeters away. Fingers, move, move, please… I focused all my strength and waved my arm. Chase rushed over and held me down. The drill fell to the floor, hitting the surgical table and knocking the instruments to the ground. “Crash—” “What’s all that noise? Did something happen to my baby sister?” My sister’s voice. Then the door opened a crack.

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My little brother, all part of his “chosen one CEO” image, teamed up with my stepmom to swipe my nearly-finished business proposal. The result? The company tanked, losing millions. And he blamed it all on me. “He’s just jealous!” he wailed, “My own brother sabotaged my work! He can’t stand to see anyone succeed!” My dad, completely snowed by their act, kicked me out, cutting off all my money. I ended up homeless, eventually getting beaten to death by some thugs. With my last breath, I heard them mention my brother’s name. But fate, in its infinite wisdom, gave me a do-over. I woke up on the very day he stole my proposal. 1. Still reeling, I checked the time on my phone. Tonight was the night my brother, in cahoots with my stepmom, was going to jack my work. He’d sneakily implement my initial draft, and everyone would initially hail him as some kind of business genius. But that draft wasn’t market-tested. It had serious flaws. A month later, the lack of solid data would cause a massive market correction, costing the company nearly fifty million bucks! The stock market would bleed red. Some of the older investors would even consider pulling out. And then he’d pin it all on me. “It’s gotta be my brother! He was jealous, and changed the key parts of my plan to see me fail!” My dad would buy it because he thought the plan was solid. He didn’t know I’d created it. My stepmom’s crocodile tears and my brother, Chad’s, faux-frustration would pull at my dad’s heartstrings. Even my fiancée, who was only with me for the connections, would turn on me and side with Chad. They’d cut me off financially and throw me to the curb. Homeless, I’d be forced to scavenge through dumpsters for scraps. And eventually, I’d be beaten to death. Before I died, I heard them talking: “Are we really gonna kill him?” “He’s just a bum. Who’s gonna miss him? No one will even notice.” “Yeah, besides, his own brother paid us to do it. And we got rich guys watching our backs if we get caught!” Checking the time again – it was four in the afternoon. Based on my memories from the previous life, I got to work, hammering out the final touches on the proposal. Then, I immediately sent it over to Uncle Phil, a member of the board who could go toe-to-toe with my dad. “Phil, I’ve done the market research on this new streaming platform. Take a look and let me know if you see any holes.” I wasn’t about to sit around waiting for his reply. I quickly changed clothes and headed out. A month from now, Chad would accuse me of tampering with his plan. Let them steal the initial draft. The real skill wasn’t something they could just swipe. This time, I wasn’t going down without a fight. I called my dad and told him I agreed to the transfer to open a new branch in Chicago. Last time, I refused. I was determined to stay in New York and battle Chad for the inheritance. Which led to my plan getting stolen, Chad getting the credit, and me taking the blame. That helpless, trapped feeling was something I’d never forget. As the plane took off for Chicago, I finally started to relax. That plane ticket, proving where I was, was my alibi. I was going to enjoy watching them try to pin this on me in a month! 2. The plane landed late at night. As soon as I turned on my phone, I was bombarded with trending news articles. “Chad, the Handpicked CEO, Lands a Million-Dollar Deal!” “Shocking! Millions in Revenue in Just Two Hours!” “The Younger Son of the Smith Family – The Real CEO Material!” Just as I’d predicted, they’d stolen my incomplete draft. The headlines were all about how amazing Chad was. They even compared me to him. “Compared to the formerly hotshot VP, Amy Carter’s son, he doesn’t even measure up!” “Like mother, like son. Amy Carter was a homewrecker, so what else would you expect from her kid?” And that was me – Amy Carter’s son. Once, the Carter name had held a lot of weight in Smith Corp. Then, my dad married my mom, and together they fused their companies into a powerhouse. But when I was ten, my mom died in an accident. My dad brought my stepmom into the house. That’s when I learned she was my dad’s old flame, and that I had a half-brother who was barely six months younger than me. After that, my dad dropped the charade and his attitude towards me changed drastically. He never gave me the time of day. It was like he wished I’d never been born. But at 25, I was already making waves in the business world. My stepmom was afraid I’d outshine Chad, so she teamed up with her golden child to come up with this plan. I used to tell myself that maybe I wasn’t good enough, that’s why my dad didn’t like me. But I slowly realized that I was the product of a marriage of convenience. Chad was the son my dad truly wanted. And to give Chad what he wanted, my father was willing to sacrifice his own son. Instead of wasting time arguing with strangers online, I decided to focus on getting real results that would speak for themselves. But I still couldn’t sit by and watch my mom’s company get destroyed. I texted my dad. “Don’t get caught up in appearances. You should really double-check the numbers.” He called me immediately. “Are you trying to sabotage your brother?” “He’s barely started and he’s already making waves, and you’re already trying to tear him down? ” “Let me tell you, you’re just like your useless mother. You could never come up with something this perfect!” I could hear my stepmom chiming in from the background. “Now, Sam, don’t get so worked up. After all, she and her boy are known to steal from others.” “But skills from the blood can’t be stolen by anyone.” “Alan’s already been sent to the secondary office, if he can’t achieve anything, the rule of the company are there to be enforced.” Wow, talk about a low blow! I could hear Chad sniffling and my fiancée’s familiar voice. “Don’t be upset, Chad. He’s just jealous.” See? I didn’t even have to say anything. They’d already found me guilty. Chad just had to put on an act, and I’d be held responsible for everything. My well-intentioned advice was completely ignored. Well, we’d see who had the last laugh in a month. 3. My stepmom and Chad knew that I was the true author of the plan. Afraid that I might expose the truth online, they called a press conference overnight. They released a video of Chad working tirelessly on the plan. Saying he was going above and beyond for the company. Even late at night, if he had a flash of inspiration, he’d jump up to write it down. Instantly, he was hailed as “The Handpicked CEO.” Uncle Phil was furious. “You’re both Sam’s sons, your dad’s way too unfair!” “I saw the plan. It’s practically identical to the one you gave me!” “I had yours tested, but Chad’s just went straight into action!” “But your dad’s the chairman now. I can’t overrule him.” If my dad used his power as chairman to push it through, the company would start hemorrhaging money any day. I was able to convince Uncle Phil to get a group of the team and fellow board members together. They’d wait until the company lost money, then launch their counterattack. Chad’s new livestream plan started losing money in the second week. It wasn’t just because of the flawed data, but also because of my dad’s boneheaded decisions. To boost its influence and take over the market, he contacted a bunch of retailers with dead-stock products, just to restock the inventory quickly. He was treating his fanbase like sheep to be fleeced. But those fans weren’t stupid. The products arrived, and they were nothing like what they were expecting. Expensive makeup was causing breakouts. Candy was giving people food poisoning. The internet was flooded with complaints. “What ‘Handpicked CEO’? Is he taking us all for fools?” “Are you out of your mind?! I bought it because my favorite actor was promoting it. I ate it while watching their show, and ended up in the hospital!” “Leave my favorite influencer alone! She’s not just a marketing tool!” “I have such a bad impression of Smith Corp now. I’ll never buy anything from them again.” Countless fans were sending Chad hate mail. 4. When Chad was getting booed in public and receiving death threats, he cracked. I got a call from my dad. He started yelling and insulting me right off the bat. “Are you behind this whole plan thing? Are you that jealous of your brother?” “You can’t just accept going to the Chicago branch?” “You’re just trash! Can’t you understand your place in the family?!” Before I could even respond, my phone was blowing up with incoming calls. Then, the top trending topic was about Chad threatening to jump off a building. With a livestream link attached. It all clicked in my head instantly. Chad must have told my dad something, trying to get him to hold me back. That way, I wouldn’t have a chance to address the slander he was throwing my way. The first to attack gets the advantage, right? Sorry, but the comeback story is way more popular. I hung up on my dad without a second thought and clicked on the livestream. Chad was standing on the roof, clutching the railing for dear life. “I can’t even leave my apartment without getting booed and having things thrown at me. I’m getting death threats, people are even sending me fan mail written in blood.” “It’s because my brother’s jealous of me! He secretly changed the data! And he contacted shady business to smear my name!” But the internet wasn’t so easily fooled. That’s when my fiancée, Riley Moore, the daughter of the Moore Group, stepped forward with a video. It showed me hunched over a desk, working on the plan. It only played for a few seconds before cutting off. “This is a video of Alan Smith secretly sabotaging the plan!” She even released screenshots of our text messages. “I’m jealous of Chad’s talent.” “I’m the real heir to Smith Ent. He doesn’t deserve to be in the running for the position!” “I’m going to ruin him! Riley, you’ll help me, right?” Putting down her phone, Riley turned to the camera, righteous fury in her eyes. “Chad and I have been close friends for years. I know him. I know what kind of person he is.” “That’s why I refused to work with Alan and sabotage someone’s plan!” With Riley’s endorsement, the internet turned on me.

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