Category: English

My bakery had just opened, and my biological parents showed up at the door. The girl I was switched with at birth, now a renowned violinist, refused to acknowledge her birth mother. Fine by me. I didn’t want to go back to my biological parents either. 01 My bakery, “Annie’s Oven,” was finally opening, and I’d managed to get A-list celebrity Ethan Cole for the ribbon-cutting. A superstar appearance plus grand opening specials – those two things were enough to draw a massive crowd of customers and reporters, packing the street outside. Suddenly, a shriek pierced through the noise: “Annie! Mom and Dad are here for you!” A well-dressed woman, tears streaming down her face, pushed her way through the crowd. Her eyes scanned my face for maybe two seconds before she latched onto my employee, Ashley, and started sobbing uncontrollably. Everyone was stunned by the sudden interruption. The photographers didn’t know where to point their cameras. The woman wailed as if no one else was there, “Honey, Mom looked for you for so long, I finally found you!” Ashley looked completely bewildered. She was fresh out of high school, hadn’t put much thought into her appearance, and looked pretty plain next to this woman. The woman’s grip seemed incredibly strong. Ashley kept yelling, “I’m not her!” but couldn’t break free. I sighed and stepped forward to help pull the woman off her. “Ma’am, maybe there’s some misunderstanding?” This was my grand opening day, and I absolutely couldn’t let anyone cause trouble. But with so many people watching, I tried my best to keep my voice gentle, even though inside I was already furious. The woman shot me a quick glance, annoyed. “Don’t you interfere with our mother-daughter reunion…” “No, no, Ma’am, you’ve got the wrong person.” Two men pushed through the crowd, one tall and thin, the other short and stout. It was the shorter man who spoke. He was panting, pointing right at me. “This is your daughter, the one who was taken from you years ago.” Me: “…” The woman’s expression twisted from shock into something truly distorted. Kidnapped, reunited, A-list celebrity… Those words together were pure dynamite for news headlines. The reporters went even wilder than before. Ethan quickly stepped in front of me, shielding me from the surging crowd. He firmly shut down the reporters: “Today’s event is over. We’ll release an official statement regarding everything that happened here later.” With that, he guided me back inside the bakery. Behind us, the relentless reporters kept shouting questions. 02 After finally getting rid of the reporters and gawkers, my biological parents, the Davises, and I could finally sit down and talk. I called my adoptive mother, Martha, out from the back kitchen. Being a woman from a small town, she felt awkward and maybe a little guilty about the whole situation, and it took some coaxing to get her to come out. The tall, thin man and the woman were my biological parents. The short, stout man was Mr. Henderson, the coordinator from the family reunion website. Mrs. Davis looked incredibly embarrassed. Before I even walked into the room, she kept asking Mr. Henderson to double-check. “Mr. Henderson, are you absolutely sure you didn’t make a mistake? Didn’t you say my daughter was taken to some poor, backwoods place? How could she possibly own a business like this?” The coordinator assured her, “You can rest easy. Annie Davis has been registered on the reunion site for years. We’ve verified all the information. There’s no mistake.” Mrs. Davis still seemed unconvinced. How could the daughter she imagined living in poverty suddenly turn out to be the owner of a trendy bakery? Ethan Cole, Martha, and I sat together. Mrs. Davis started in with a sarcastic tone, “Well, isn’t this interesting. A big movie star getting involved in messy family drama, just like regular folks. How rare.” Ethan wasn’t known for his patience, and without reporters around, he didn’t hold back. “Ma’am, you were just hugging the wrong girl a few minutes ago. That’s what’s rare.” Mrs. Davis looked ready to explode, but Mr. Davis stopped her. “Honey, let’s not forget why we’re here. We came to find our daughter, not to start fights.” Mrs. Davis visibly reined in her temper, gave Ethan a scrutinizing look, and then turned her gaze to me with a new, calculating glint in her eyes. I had a pretty good idea what she was thinking – that I was probably Ethan’s secret girlfriend, the sugar baby he’d set up in a fancy bakery in a prime location. My adoptive mom, Martha, huddled in a corner of the sofa, staying quiet, but her eyes kept darting towards a girl standing silently near the wall. Following her gaze, I realized there was someone else in the room. The girl was dressed all in black – black pants, black shirt. A baseball cap was pulled down low, and she wore a mask, making it impossible to see her face clearly. Mrs. Davis suddenly snapped at her, “Shouldn’t you be home practicing your violin? What are you doing sneaking over here?” The girl hesitantly took off her hat and mask, revealing a delicate, timid face. She bore a slight resemblance to Martha. Her voice was soft. “I’m sorry, Mom. I was just… passing by.” 03 Mrs. Davis was aggressive and condescending, demanding I move back home with them in three days. My response was firm. “That’s impossible.” She seemed genuinely surprised that I’d push back. She paused for a second, then her eyebrows shot up, and her tone became sharp and insistent. I shot up from my seat, suddenly past caring about appearances. “You didn’t give a damn about me for over twenty years, and now you just show up, acting all high and mighty, expecting me to call you Mom?” “Mr. Henderson just said my information has been on that reunion website for years. I’ve lived in this city for years. If you really cared about finding me, we would have found each other long before today! Why now?” “Today is my bakery’s grand opening! Have you asked even one single question about it? About how I got here? How I learned to bake, what struggles I faced? Did you care about any of that?” “You did nothing! You just crashed my opening day, ruined my business, all to satisfy your own self-important need to feel like a mother finding her long-lost daughter!” “How is what you did any different from that mob outside just looking for a spectacle?” All the reporters’ questions today were about Ethan. Nobody cared about my bakery. The occasional question about me was just probing my relationship with him. I couldn’t really blame them. Even my own biological mother seemed more interested in that. I felt my eyes start to burn, like something was about to spill over. Ethan gently squeezed my hand from behind me. Mrs. Davis clenched her fists, her lips pressed tight. Her throat moved, like she wanted to say something. Mr. Davis stepped in to smooth things over. “Annie’s obviously got a lot on her plate, running a business, especially on opening day. It must be hectic. We should head home for now. We can come back another day when Annie has more time.” Mr. Davis guided Mrs. Davis towards the door, the girl following closely behind them. Martha suddenly darted forward, grabbing the girl’s hand, her voice trembling noticeably. “You’re May, aren’t you? You’re May!” The girl looked startled. Mrs. Davis slapped Martha’s hand away sharply. “Get away from her, you hick! I worked hard to raise my daughter into a renowned violinist. I won’t have you showing up now to reap the benefits.” Martha flinched back, silent. I stepped between them, retorting, “Well, isn’t that a shame? This renowned violinist still came from my mom’s womb.” Mrs. Davis looked like she could spit fire. She threw one last cutting remark over her shoulder as she left. “You could have been a wealthy young lady, and instead, you choose to call some woman from the sticks ‘Mom’!” Later that evening, back at my apartment, Ethan was still there. He leaned in conspiratorially, watching my face, then hesitantly told me about the girl. Apparently, after the Davises left, she had circled back alone, found Ethan, claimed she was a huge fan, and gave him her business card. I knew exactly what was going on. I playfully lifted the edge of Ethan’s shirt, revealing a glimpse of his well-defined abs. “Well, well, look at my big celebrity friend. So popular now, even famous violinists are your fans.” He’d improved. Usually, he’d blush up to his hairline, but now it was just the tips of his ears turning red. His hands hung obediently at his sides; he didn’t stop me. I stopped teasing him and took the card. The name on it was Melanie Davis. Ethan said, almost pleadingly, “I’ll throw it away right now.” I glanced towards the kitchen where Martha was busy. “No need,” I smiled. “Call her. Ask her out to dinner.” Just as I said it, Ethan’s phone rang. It was his agent. The second he answered, a loud yell came through the phone: “Were you seeing that small-town girl again?!” Ethan flushed, looking embarrassed, and quickly moved to another room to take the call. 04 Initially, the four of us started dinner together: me, Ethan, Martha, and Melanie. Melanie seemed to have snuck out without her parents knowing and looked a bit uncomfortable. When the moment felt right, I grabbed Ethan and pulled him out of the private dining room. As soon as we were outside, Ethan asked excitedly, “Okay, where are we going for dinner?” I pointed to the room right next door. “Not so fast. We’re just next door for now.” I pressed my ear against the wall, trying to listen in. Ethan looked a little grumpy about being sidelined. I mumbled a few reassuring words to him, then went back to eavesdropping. Ethan looked like he was about to lose his temper, but the argument in the next room erupted before he could. I burst through our door just in time to see Melanie pulling her hand away from Martha’s grasp. “I’m sorry,” Melanie said firmly. “I have my own life now. We don’t have any connection anymore.” Martha stood frozen. I rushed out after Melanie. Meanwhile, someone had recognized Ethan, and he was instantly surrounded, stuck in place. “Melanie Davis, stop right there!” I finally caught up to her and called out. “Is there something you need?” Melanie turned slowly, composed and calm, a stark contrast to the timid girl I’d seen before. I stepped closer. “Having a new life is your business, but Martha is your biological mother. Don’t you care about her feelings at all?” “Oh?” She tilted her head, a slight smile playing on her lips. “And have you considered your biological mother’s feelings?” I was momentarily speechless, stammering that the situations were different. Melanie tilted her head, thinking. After a long pause, she said, “Hmm, you’re right. They are different.” I didn’t want to argue with her. I reminded her that the anniversary of her biological father’s passing was in a week. As his daughter, she really should go home and be with Martha on that day. She didn’t agree directly. Instead, she smiled faintly. “My parents’ wedding anniversary is in three days. You should come for dinner too.” Again, I was speechless. I knew she was using Martha to pressure me. A girl raised in a wealthy family clearly knew how to play games. Pathetically, I felt I had no choice but to agree. As I was leaving, I noticed a huge poster of Melanie advertising her concert tour hanging in the plaza. Right next to it was an ad featuring Ethan. Seeing their posters side-by-side like that… it looked pretty good. Suddenly, something sharp pricked at my heart. 05 Thanks to Ethan, a lot of fans and influencers started hanging around my bakery, hoping to catch a glimpse of him. I didn’t mind. Money is money, right? Taking it from fans isn’t shameful. One day, an influencer filming a video suddenly shrieked at the top of his lungs, “Oh my god! There’s a cockroach in this bun! Gross!” “Eww!” Customers immediately crowded around. I had to push my way through from the outside just to see what was happening. By the time I saw the actual cockroach, the influencer had already finished showing it off to his camera. He held up his “trophy” triumphantly, smirking at me. The other customers started freaking out, yelling and complaining. Some even looked like they wanted to trash the place. It was chaos. I grabbed a glass jar from the counter and smashed it on the floor. “Everybody quiet down!” I yelled. People finally stopped shouting. I climbed onto a table, looking down at everyone. “As the owner, I promise I will get to the bottom of this. Today, all the buns are on the house!” “And,” I turned to the few fans still recording with their phones, “This bakery means everything to us. Please don’t spread rumors before we know the facts.” Seeing me address them, the fans quietly put their phones away. Hearing about free food, the other customers started calming down, trying to smooth things over. The influencer wasn’t happy. He pointed at me, shouting, “She’s just trying to shut this down! Don’t listen to her! Keep making noise!” “Who wants to make noise?” A strong, authoritative voice came from the doorway. The police had arrived. I’d told Ashley to call them as soon as the influencer started his act. Thankfully, they got here quickly. Faced with the police, the influencer lost his bravado and meekly went aside to give his statement. That evening, I got a call from an unknown number. “Hello?” “Hello, is this Annie? It’s Mom.” A strange chill ran down my spine. “What is it?” “I heard… something happened at your shop. Do you need Mom to help you out?” “Help me?” “Yes, Mom knows a lot of people in the media. I can make sure they don’t report this incident. It won’t affect you at all.” “You can really help me?” I asked, skeptical. “Of course! And that influencer today, he’s just trash. Did he try to blackmail you? Don’t worry, Mom can handle everything.” I let out a dry laugh. “How did you know he tried to blackmail me? Is he a friend of yours?” After the police left, the influencer had tried to demand hush money from me, but he did it when no one else was around. I hadn’t told a soul. “Ah… um…” Mrs. Davis stammered on the other end, unable to form a coherent sentence. I scoffed, calling her bluff directly. “Let me guess. You hired that influencer today, didn’t you? Arranged for him to cause trouble, so you could swoop in and ‘fix’ it, making me feel like I owe you?” Mrs. Davis’s voice became urgent. “Annie, Mom really just wants to make things right with you. I also looked into your relationship with Ethan Cole. I know you’re just childhood friends from the same town, nothing more.” My voice turned cold. “If you claim to be my mother, why didn’t you just ask me? Why did you have someone investigate me? What if I was Ethan’s sugar baby? Would you have decided not to acknowledge me then?” Mrs. Davis sounded frantic now, with a faint, almost undetectable sob in her voice. “I’m just a normal person! I just want my daughter back! What’s wrong with that?” “Right, nothing’s wrong with that. But you always try to do it by making me bow down first, making me compromise. Why can’t you just respect me?” “I’m a normal person too! I have dignity! This bakery is something I built with my own blood, sweat, and tears! Did your investigation tell you that?” Silence on the other end. I laughed bitterly. “Apparently not. Mrs. Davis only cares about my connection to a superstar, not about me!” “You went through all this trouble, staged this whole drama, just so you could play the savior and have me grovel at your feet for mercy, is that it?” “Well, I’m sorry, Mrs. Davis, but I’m afraid that’s not going to happen. I got where I am today by myself, not by relying on some man. I don’t need your help. I can handle this on my own.” I hung up the phone, cutting off a faint, half-formed “I’m sorry” that I couldn’t quite make out. Raising a hand to my face, I was startled to find tears streaming down my cheeks. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a shadow move in the corner of the room. “Come on out,” I said wearily. “You’ve heard enough.” Ethan emerged, looking sheepish. He started to speak, but was interrupted by his phone ringing sharply. “Hey, man, yeah, I know,” Ethan said into the phone, his voice suddenly deferential. “Tomorrow’s press conference, I’ll nail it! Don’t worry, I’ve memorized all the answers to those questions. It’s all good.” Ethan was practically bowing to the phone, but the person on the other end didn’t seem ready to let him off the hook. “And you know how to handle questions about that girl, right?” The voice from the phone was loud, filling the small apartment. Ethan’s face stiffened. He answered quietly, “Yeah.” A long silence followed. Ethan opened his mouth to say something to me, but I cut him off. “It’s late. Don’t you have that press conference tomorrow? You should go.” Without another word, I pushed him out the door. He kept knocking, wanting me to let him back in, but I wouldn’t.

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My best friend and her precious boyfriend had a fight, and she bolted over to my place in the middle of the night. My instant reaction was to push her right back to him: “He’s such a great guy, really. He’d rather punch a wall than lay a hand on you. That shows restraint, you know? Reliable.” After all, in my past life, her precious boyfriend hacked me to death, and she turned around and begged my parents to forgive the murderer. They’re such a perfect match. How could they possibly break up? 1. “But… but he smashed the computer and the TV! I just bought them!” Chloe’s eyes were swollen like peaches from crying, endlessly complaining about her boyfriend, Kevin. I glanced at the clock on the wall. Yep, 3:30 AM. Fighting off sleep, I patiently tried to counsel her: “See? That just proves he’s not materialistic. He doesn’t care about possessions. Solid guy, totally reliable.” Chloe’s eyes widened. She stared at me, utterly bewildered, clearly shocked that I was suddenly defending Kevin. “…Didn’t you used to hate him? Every time we fought, you got angrier than I did.” I gently patted my bestie’s head. “I’ve thought it through. Whatever makes you happy is what’s best. You should go home now. Look how much he loves you—your phone’s been blowing up nonstop since you got here.” Of course, I wasn’t going to get angry for her anymore. After all, last time, when they were splitting up, I took Chloe on a trip to clear her head. Kevin, in a rage, tracked us down from miles away. The guy screamed that I was the one poisoning their relationship and then stabbed me repeatedly right there on the street until I was dead. And what did Chloe do? She went to my parents, crying, talking about the bond they shared as husband and wife, offering to be their daughter from now on, if only they would forgive the man who killed me and spare him the death penalty. Seriously? Who could stomach that? It took days after I was reborn for the sheer rage to subside. I was so stressed out I broke out in these huge, painful zits all over my face from the constant anger simmering inside me. This time around, they weren’t even married yet. I wasn’t about to make the same mistake, getting all worked up and calling him scum every time they argued. Because the moment they made up, Chloe would repeat every single word I said right back to her precious Kevin. Do. Not. Get. Involved. In. Other. People’s. Karma. I had to repeat that to myself thirty times before bed every night. 2. The 99+ missed calls from Kevin? In Chloe’s eyes, that was just proof of his love. After my pep talk, her tears turned into a smile, and she practically skipped back home. On this exact day in my past life, Chloe had done the same thing—banging on my door around 2 AM, nearly giving me a heart attack. She’d wanted Kevin to go walk the dog with her, but he was deep into his nightly gaming session right after dinner and refused. Chloe complained a bit too much, and the guy slammed his keyboard down, smashed the monitor, found a nice, clean patch of drywall, and started banging his head against it. Hard. It scared Chloe, and frankly, it scared me too. Someone that emotionally unstable? If they got married, who knew what else he was capable of? But that conversation, where I tried to talk sense into her, was what made Kevin start hating me. The next day, they were lovey-dovey again, and I dragged myself to work with dark circles under my eyes. Then, I got the threatening text from Kevin: “You bitch, if I hear you’re trying to break Chloe and me up again, you’ll regret it.” This time, however, while I still went to work exhausted with dark circles, I received a different kind of message from him: “I feel better knowing Chloe has a friend like you looking out for her. Next time she throws a tantrum and runs to you, just let me know right away, okay?” I glanced at it and deleted the message. My career was really taking off right now. If I landed this project successfully, I’d get transferred to the company headquarters. I didn’t have time for this toxic couple’s drama. HQ was in my hometown. After remembering how I was brutally murdered by that psycho, leaving my parents devastated and crying constantly, I had decided. I was moving back home to be with them, to really be there for them. 3. The next six months passed relatively smoothly, without any major disasters. During this time, Chloe still called me sporadically, at all hours, always to vent. The topic was inevitably her boyfriend, his family, or some random acquaintance of theirs. Unlike before, I no longer dropped everything to listen to her relationship woes. I’d offer a few vague platitudes, claim I was busy, and hang up. My project at work wrapped up successfully. But the night of the celebration dinner with my colleagues, I got home to find a woman holding two cats waiting for me at my door. She was sitting on the steps, surrounded by bags. I frowned slightly. “Mrs. Davis? What are you doing here?” This was Susan Davis, Chloe’s mother. Chloe and I had known each other since middle school, and our families were acquainted back then, so I knew her parents. Her mom was known for being loud, eccentric, and difficult to deal with. I remembered back in high school, Chloe secretly went on a date with some guy from outside our school. Her mom grabbed me and demanded I take her to all the places Chloe might hang out to find her. Back then, I was such a pushover. Worried about Chloe but too intimidated to refuse her aggressive mother, I trudged around with her for half the night in the freezing cold – it must have been below twenty degrees Fahrenheit. I ended up sick with a fever for days and almost missed my final exams. As soon as Susan saw me, her face lit up. She slapped the dust off her pants and stood up. “Sarah, honey! You’re finally home! I came to talk to you about something important.” What was this about? This hadn’t happened before. I kept my frown subtle and nodded politely. “What is it?” She didn’t answer directly, just looked at me, then glanced at my apartment door. “It’s getting chilly out here in the hallway tonight. Can we talk inside?” I looked at the two cats cradled in her arms. I knew her family always liked pets, but I honestly didn’t expect her to travel all this way from out of town with two cats in tow. The cats stared at me with wide, round eyes. They were cute cats, but unfortunately, I have allergies. Bad ones. Cat fur sets off my allergic rhinitis like crazy. Still, it was cold out, and I couldn’t bear leaving the cats in the hallway. After a moment of internal debate, mostly for the cats’ sake, I nodded and unlocked my door. 4. Susan plopped herself right onto my sofa and immediately started complaining, her face etched with worry. “Sarah, dear, I came here hoping you could help me talk some sense into Chloe. Convince her not to marry Kevin.” Hearing the name of that monster, the one who still gave me cold sweats, made my expression instantly harden. The agony of being stabbed to death on the street in my past life seemed to crawl back up my nerves. Was it my imagination, or did my muscles actually start to twitch and ache? I poured Susan a glass of water. “But from Chloe’s social media, it looks like they’re already setting a date. They seem really happy together. Maybe we shouldn’t interfere?” Susan immediately got agitated. Her eyes flew wide open, and her voice shot up several decibels. “How can you say that? That boy’s family has no money! His parents don’t even have retirement savings, and he’s got a deadbeat brother! What kind of life is Chloe going to have with him?” She had a point. Chloe’s family had never really approved of Kevin. It seemed my encouragement had finally pushed Chloe to decide on marriage. I tried again, calmly. “Chloe says Kevin treats her really well. She’s an adult now, and this is her choice. I don’t think it’s my place to interfere in her life.” That did it. Susan shot up from the sofa, pointing a finger right at me. “Aren’t you supposed to be her best friend? You’re just going to stand by and watch her walk into a disaster? Sarah, how could you become so selfish? If Chloe ends up miserable in this marriage, won’t you feel guilty?” She grew more agitated as she spoke, seemingly picturing her daughter’s ruined life, all supposedly my fault. “If her marriage fails later, if she gets divorced, it’ll be your responsibility, you know that! I was wondering why she was suddenly so determined to marry him! Was it you egging her on?” Guilty? My responsibility? Was this another attempt at emotional blackmail? I almost wanted to applaud her audacity. It was just like that time in high school, dragging me along to find Chloe while muttering that if we didn’t find her, I, as her best friend, would regret it for the rest of my life. I stood up just as abruptly, looking down at her coldly. She was much shorter than me, and her aggressive posture seemed to deflate slightly under my gaze. I let out a cold laugh, staring directly into her eyes. “Mrs. Davis, I’m Chloe’s friend, not her mother. Now, if she wanted to get on her knees, call me Mom, and ask for my parental advice, then sure, I’d jump right in and try to talk her out of it. But otherwise…” “You—You disrespectful little brat!” The old woman seemed genuinely furious now. She raised her hand and swung, slapping me hard across the face. My ear rang, and I instinctively cupped my stinging cheek. Damn. She hit hard. Growing up, my own parents had never laid a hand on me, let alone slapped me. Who the hell did she think she was? 5. I picked up the mug of still-warm tea from the table, lifted it high in front of Susan, and then, as she watched, I splashed the entire contents onto her face. The temperature wasn’t hot enough to burn her, but it was definitely enough to be unpleasant. Her makeup instantly streaked. Black mascara ran down her cheeks in watery lines, and her foundation became a patchy mess of dark and light splotches. I couldn’t help but let out a snicker. “Aaaah!” Susan shrieked dramatically, like a pig being slaughtered. “I’m calling the police! This is assault!” Her tightly permed short hair now looked like a soggy bird’s nest, and even her down jacket was soaked. Without a word, I opened the door and pushed her out. “Go ahead. Call them. Let’s see which is worse: you slapping me, or me splashing you with some lukewarm tea.” It was already midnight. Most of the neighbors were asleep, and I really didn’t want to argue with her anymore. But Susan struggled fiercely. Seeing she couldn’t overpower me, she grabbed one of the cats beside her and threw it directly at me. Startled and caught off guard, the cat instinctively lashed out, sinking its claws deep into my arm twice. Along with the sound of fabric tearing, blood started to drip from the wounds. “…I didn’t do that! The cat did it! It wasn’t my fault; you must have provoked the kitty yourself.” Susan didn’t seem flustered at all. She picked up the cat, acting completely uninvolved. I looked at my torn sleeve, then at the bleeding scratches. I calmly closed my apartment’s security door, pulled out my phone, and dialed 911. I looked back at her through the peephole, a small smile playing on my lips. “Well, isn’t this great? You got your wish. Even if you wanted to leave now, you can’t.” 6. I had a security camera installed in my entryway. Everything that just happened was clearly recorded. After filing the police report and getting a medical assessment for my injuries, Susan was required to compensate me for all damages and medical expenses. I presented her with the bills for the rabies shots, the emergency room visit to treat the wounds, and the receipt for the ruined clothing. “The total comes to eighteen hundred dollars. You can transfer it to me.” She looked at me in disbelief, snatched the receipts, her eyes wide. “Are you dreaming? What kind of crappy clothes cost eighteen hundred dollars? You’re just trying to shake me down!” I scoffed. “My purchase records and receipts are all perfectly clear. We just left the police station not too long ago. Want to go back? Or perhaps, I could just ask your daughter for the money?” She ground her teeth, her face pale with fury. “Hah, you’ve got nerve. Just you wait. I’m going to tell Chloe your true colors, let her see what kind of little monster her so-called best friend really is!” I smiled sweetly. “Tsk, Mrs. Davis, isn’t it true that you wouldn’t be here, bags and all, if she hadn’t blocked you? I’m just a supportive friend who believes in her freedom to choose her own partner. What did I do wrong? It was her mother who lost her temper and attacked me, remember?” I knew Chloe and her mom’s relationship was a ticking time bomb; they blocked each other every other week. Usually, when that happened, one would ask me to relay messages to the other. It drove me nuts. Sure enough, hitting that sore spot made Susan flush with anger. She raised her hand again as if to strike me. “You—!” I quickly stepped back, pointedly holding up my phone displaying my Venmo QR code. “Scan this. Unless you want to risk having a heart attack from all this stress. That would end up costing you a lot more.” 7. Susan might have been loud and aggressive, but she wasn’t completely reckless when it came to the law. She was afraid I’d actually drag her back to the police station. Although she was furious, she transferred the money. My transfer orders hadn’t come through yet, so I just took a week off work. Back home, having been awake for nearly twenty-four hours straight, I collapsed onto my bed and fell into a deep sleep. In my dream, I was like a floating camera, watching myself being chased by Kevin wielding a knife. Chloe stood behind him, crying, yet clapping her hands. “Yes! Yes! He still loves me! Even if he hurts other people, he wouldn’t hurt me.” The bone-deep pain and terror from that memory seemed to seep out of the dream and into my body. I jolted awake instantly. I gasped for air, trying to steady my racing heart, when I suddenly heard a noise coming from the living room. Every hair on my body stood on end. Adrenaline surged through me. Thinking quickly, I slid silently out of bed, grabbed the tennis racket hanging on the wall, and crept nervously towards the door, listening intently. Knock, knock-knock. My bedroom door was tapped gently. Then, a familiar voice called out. “Hey, cuz, you still sleeping? I brought breakfast. Get up and eat something?” I let out the breath I’d been holding tightly and opened the door. “Megan? What are you doing here? You didn’t even call! You scared me; I thought someone broke in.” Standing before me was my cousin, Megan, almost half a head taller than me, who was attending college in the city. She gave me a weary smile. “You’ve been asleep for almost twenty hours! Your neighbor messaged Aunt Carol yesterday, said the police came to your place late last night. Aunt Carol and Uncle Joe freaked out. They tried calling you, but you didn’t answer, so they asked me to come check on you.” I looked at my phone. It was dead. I must have been so exhausted I just crashed without even plugging it in, causing my parents to worry. 8. I scratched my head sheepishly. “You probably still have classes, right? Sorry to make you come all this way and worry everyone.” “No big deal, I’m a senior, barely any classes left. Mostly focusing on finding an internship now.” She smiled, grabbed my wrist, and pulled me towards the dining table. My eyes welled up looking at the steaming bagels and hot coffee. My stomach growled instantly. I sat down and started eating like I was starving. My cousin popped a piece of bagel into her mouth, then suddenly remembered something and swallowed quickly. “Oh yeah, that friend you used to hang out with, Chloe? Did you guys have a fight? Aunt Carol called her first, thinking maybe you two went out together. But Chloe was apparently super rude and snapped at her.” I couldn’t help but frown. I hadn’t told my parents about all this drama because I didn’t want them to worry and it was complicated to explain. Looks like I needed to fill them in, before they got dragged into this mess somehow. After all, Chloe and her mom both had my parents’ contact info and knew where they lived. Just as I was about to explain things to Megan, someone started pounding heavily on my front door. “Sarah Miller! Open this door!” Well, speak of the devil. “Cuz, who is that?” Megan looked tense. I shook my head and got up to open the door. Whatever needed dealing with, it was better to get it over with sooner rather than later.

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The day before the wedding, I received a video of Greg Peterson, my fiancé, screwing his old flame. In the video, my fiancé said, “You’re the one I’ve always loved, definitely not Ava Johnson.” “Being with her is just fulfilling a family obligation. Marrying her is just bringing home a housekeeper.” Without hesitation, I ditched my childhood sweetheart fiancé and turned around to marry his sworn enemy. … “Ms. Johnson, are you satisfied with this video?” Watching the two pale bodies tangled together in the video, my stomach churned with nausea. Greg Peterson, who always looked so polite and refined in public, was secretly a wolf in sheep’s clothing. Cheating on me the day before our wedding. “If Ms. Johnson isn’t satisfied, as long as the price is right, I can get you any kind of content you want.” I gagged slightly but didn’t say anything, just quickly transferred the money. Soon after, I received numerous videos of Greg Peterson and Jessica Ryan hooking up. After saving the videos, I went home. As soon as I pushed the door open. A cake rigged above the doorway fell directly onto my head. Followed by a blast of party poppers and confetti right in my face. Shocked by the sudden turn of events, I stood frozen on the spot. The group in front of me burst into laughter. They were all Greg Peterson’s worthless buddies; they always loved playing tricks on me, watching me make a fool of myself. “This is hilarious, she actually fell for it.” “Look at her, she looks like a total clown.” My face was covered in colorful streamers and frosting. The hairstyle I’d carefully prepared for tomorrow’s wedding was ruined, and my clothes were a mess. Greg Peterson had his arm around Jessica Ryan, laughing so hard he could barely breathe. “My baby is so smart, coming up with such a fun game. Feeling better now?” Jessica Ryan giggled loudly. She was even holding a water gun, spraying water onto my face. The frosting dripped down my body with the water. Soaked to the bone, I shivered in the cold draft blowing through the hall. Seeing that I hadn’t spoken for a while, Greg nonchalantly wiped some frosting off my face with a tissue. “What, you’re angry already? Can’t take a little joke? Still think you’re some high-society princess? Did you forget the Johnson family is washed up now?” “We’re getting married tomorrow! This is the last bachelor party bash, everyone’s just having fun. Don’t be such a buzzkill. There’ll be plenty more of this in the future, Ava, you need to learn to get used to it!” Greg and I grew up together, childhood sweethearts, you could say. Over the years, maybe I wasn’t head-over-heels in love, but there were deep feelings, at least. Growing up, Greg was like a big brother, always protecting me. He carried my backpack to and from school, always shared his snacks with me. So when our families proposed the marriage alliance with the Petersons, I wasn’t strongly opposed. I knew being born into a family like mine meant I came with a certain business value. Since I had to marry someone eventually, why not someone familiar, someone I had feelings for? But I never expected Greg Peterson’s true colors to be this disgusting. I wiped the frosting off my face, gathered a handful, and without hesitation, slapped it right onto Greg’s face. The frosting smeared all over his face too. Greg froze for a second. His buddies laughed even louder. “Damn, Greg, your future wife’s got spunk! Quite the temper. You’re gonna have your hands full once you actually marry her.” “Hey, it was just a game, but Greg, you look pretty ridiculous like that. Let me get a picture.” Greg hurriedly wiped the frosting off his face, pointing at me angrily. “Ava Johnson, do you know what you’re doing? How dare you throw frosting at me!” 2 I didn’t say anything. I just calmly wiped my frosting-covered hand clean on his clothes. “You said it yourself. It’s just a game, a joke. Don’t be such a buzzkill.” My words made Greg look like he’d swallowed a fly. “So, only you get to joke around, and nobody else can joke back at you?” Greg’s face turned red with anger, his eyes bulging. Finally, trying to save face, he said after a moment. “Ava Johnson, don’t try any funny business with me!” “Let me tell you, if you really want to save Johnson Industries, you better start sucking up to me and do what I say. Otherwise, even if we get married, I won’t let Peterson Corp invest a single dime in your family’s company!” He quickly put on his arrogant airs again. “If it weren’t for the fact that we grew up together, childhood sweethearts and all, do you think this position as Mrs. Peterson would ever go to you? Plenty of women want to marry me, Greg Peterson!” Greg pulled Jessica Ryan over, wrapping his arm around her right in front of me. Jessica looked at me blankly, said a couple of things, and then started sobbing. “Ava, you’re so lucky, getting to marry the Peterson heir, and saving your family’s failing company. You should be grateful to Greg.” “Unlike me, I’ll never get to marry Greg in this lifetime…” Greg immediately felt heartbroken, comforting Jessica before turning to scold me. “Ava Johnson, did you hear that? After we’re married, you have to do the laundry, cook, clean the house every day to repay my kindness. Stop walking around with that long face, it’s annoying.” “Also, I have business dinners and socializing, I’ll inevitably meet all sorts of people. Don’t act like a crazy jealous bitch all the time.” “Letting you be Mrs. Peterson is already doing you a huge favor. If I find out you’ve been bullying Jessica, don’t blame me for being ruthless!” He went on and on. I just listened quietly. So, what he said in the video about marrying me to be a housekeeper was true. Maybe my unusual silence made him soften a bit, because he reluctantly added. “Of course, as long as you do all this, your Johnson family will get its benefits.” But this sentence quickly made Jessica uncomfortable. She leaned against Greg, sobbing continuously. “Greg, after you get married, are you going to abandon me?” “Did your promise to be with me forever mean nothing?” “Maybe I should just leave tomorrow. Spare myself the pain of watching your wedding with Ava, and spare Ava the displeasure of seeing me.” Greg immediately picked Jessica up and started comforting her, completely disregarding my presence. I couldn’t hold back anymore, my face grim, I stepped in front of Greg and questioned him. “You’re holding another woman right in front of me like this, Greg Peterson! Do you even see me as the woman you’re about to marry?!” He pushed me away impatiently. I stumbled, lost my balance, and fell onto the leftover cake on the floor, looking even more pathetic. “Look at the state of you! You think you can compete with Jessica?” “Go clean yourself up first. Agreeing to this marriage alliance with your family was already a huge gift to you. Don’t be ungrateful.” The next second, he carried Jessica back into the bedroom. The others realized the drama had gone too far and quickly made excuses to leave. Finally, I slowly got up. The embarrassment and anger were gone from my face. I smiled faintly, brushing the dirt off my hands. You’re acting so high and mighty now, Greg Peterson. Let’s see if you’ll be laughing in the end. Without the Johnson family’s assets, let’s see if you, Greg Peterson, can keep your position as the Peterson heir. 3 I went into the guest bathroom, showered off all the frosting, changed my clothes, and came out. Jessica and Greg were already making out on the sofa. The floor was a mess, and no one had cleaned it up. The fire inside me finally erupted. “Could you both please get out of my house!” Hearing my voice, Greg and Jessica finally separated. I could vaguely see Greg pulling his hand out from under Jessica’s skirt. He cleared his throat twice, clearly not having heard what I just said. “Ava, you’re out. Good, just clean up all this trash in the room and throw it out. This is supposed to be our marital home tomorrow, we can’t have it looking like this.” Jessica chimed in beside him. “Yeah, and get us something to eat. We haven’t eaten all night, I’m getting hungry.” I looked at him with a half-smile. He really was treating me like a maid. Living in my house like he owned the place, ordering me around. Up until now, I’d put up with it because of the planned marriage alliance. But since we were going to burn bridges tomorrow anyway, there wasn’t much left to hold back for. Since he wanted the trash cleaned up, I grabbed a broom and started sweeping at Greg. His freshly changed pajamas immediately got covered in frosting. Jessica just stood there screaming. Her screaming annoyed me, so I grabbed another handful of cake from the floor and threw it at both of them. “My hair’s full of frosting again! It’s ruined!” “Ava Johnson, what are you doing?! Do you even know how to sweep?!” My expression didn’t change, a hint of mockery in my voice. “I am sweeping the trash. Sweeping the trash out of my house. Can’t you see these two huge pieces of trash right here, Greg?” Greg wasn’t stupid; he understood exactly what I meant. His face darkened immediately. “What do you mean? You’re calling me trash?” “Ava Johnson, I think you don’t want Johnson Industries to survive! Without Peterson Corp’s funding, your family’s company won’t make it through the winter.” He saw me pause my actions and immediately regained his confidence. He still thought, like before, that I was just jealous and throwing a tantrum because of his relationship with Jessica. He just figured things had gone a bit too far today. Greg spoke slowly. “Alright, alright, I know some things went too far today. Don’t throw a fit. Fine, I’ll inject some extra capital into Johnson Industries later.” “You know I hate it when you act like this. If you still want to marry me tomorrow, then behave…” Before he could finish his sentence. I threw his suitcase out the door. Along with all of Greg and Jessica’s scattered belongings, everything was tossed out. While he stared in disbelief, I deleted his fingerprint and changed the code on the electronic door lock right in front of him. “This is my house, not a garbage dump. Trash belongs in the trash can. See yourselves out.” As I was about to close the door, Greg grabbed my wrist, his face shocked. “You changed the code? You’re kicking me out?” “We’re not even married yet, and you’re already pulling this princess act? Your Johnson family is practically bankrupt, do you still think you’re part of the almighty Johnson Group of the past?” The more Greg spoke, the more confident he became, his face darkening as he waited for me to beg. “If you beg me right now, I can overlook this. Otherwise, don’t blame me for embarrassing the Johnson family at the wedding tomorrow.” I let out a cold laugh, yanked my hand free without a word, and slammed the door shut. I could hear him and Jessica talking outside. “Greg, Ava’s just getting back at me. She’s jealous of me. It’s all my fault.” “Ava Johnson, I didn’t realize you were so petty and small-minded, picking on a young woman. You’re nothing but a shrew!” “You just wait! I’ll make you pay tomorrow!”

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My husband died in the bushes along the park strip. The police’s initial assessment was that he froze to death while drunk. They asked me to identify the body. I recognized his face instantly. I turned and shook the officer’s hand. “Sorry to trouble you all!” The officer said they needed to confirm the exact cause of death further. I assured them I would cooperate fully. Leaving the police station, I felt a sense of relief wash over me. I tightened the scarf around my neck and gave a silent nod toward the frozen corpse inside the station. “Rick Hanson… Rick Hanson, you finally did something good!” 1 Middle-aged, a well-behaved daughter, financially independent, and now, the eyesore of a husband finally gone. A happy life was beckoning. Feeling cheerful, I quickly called my brother-in-law to let them know. No more excuses to keep my in-laws living with me. In a few days, I’d send them packing over to his place. Armed with Rick’s ID, I went to the bank and checked all the accounts solely in his name. Just as I expected: wiped clean. Practically penniless, from my perspective. Looking at the bank statements, seeing the regular transfers to that one specific account, I managed a small smile. He always claimed he and his mistress were soulmates. I suppose I agreed. Why else would he constantly try to drain me dry to support her? Gathering all the paperwork, I hummed a tune on my way home. Just as I reached my front door, I saw Rick’s precious little darling, Monica Vance. Even in the dead of winter, she was rocking a tight dress and thigh-high boots. Honestly, Monica was quite attractive; if I were a man, I’d probably fall for her too. Such a waste for her to be the other woman, though. Monica saw me, her face a mask of disdain. “Hey, where’s Rick?” “What do you want him for?” She probably thought I was still the same jealous, easily angered Sarah Miller. Smugly, she announced, “Rick promised me ten thousand dollars to open my shop. I’m here to collect!” I almost couldn’t contain my smile. Clearing my throat, I said, “Well, sorry, but I’m afraid you won’t be getting that money.” “You think he listens to you? Don’t overestimate yourself!” Monica retorted, still full of arrogance. “Oh, he certainly doesn’t listen to me anymore. But he won’t be hearing you either.” “Because Rick… he’s dead.” “I just got back from identifying his body at the police station.” 2 Monica barely reacted to the news of Rick’s death. I thought she’d at least put on a show, maybe squeeze out a tear or two. Instead, after a brief moment of surprise, she snapped, “I don’t care if he’s dead or not! He promised me ten grand, and he even wrote me an IOU. I want the money!” I inwardly scoffed at Rick. This was the woman you called your true love? She doesn’t even care that you’re dead; she just wants your cash. She thrust the IOU in my face. I took it, examined it carefully, then casually handed it back. “This thing barely says anything specific. You expect this to hold up? Isn’t this just some lovey-dovey ‘promise’ you coaxed out of him when things were hot and heavy?” I couldn’t be bothered with her. Monica got desperate. “I’ve already talked to the landlord for the shop space, even paid the deposit! Now that he’s dead, I’m going to lose a ton of money! You have to give me this money, or I’ll call the cops!” I laughed out loud. Talk about Rick dying at the perfect time! “Go ahead, call the cops. But let me remind you: as far as I know, you don’t have a job, so there’s no way you had money to lend Rick in the first place. This IOU is basically fake. You think the police will take you seriously?” “Besides,” I continued, “I have records of all the money he transferred to you over the past few years, photos of you two checking into hotels, receipts for things he bought you… it’s all right here. Every cent he spent on you was clearly marital property, and I have the right to demand it back!” I slapped a stack of papers and photos onto the table, looking at her like she was an idiot. Her expression shifted several times – anger, resentment – before she finally stomped her foot and stormed out. She didn’t even close the door behind her. So rude. I disinfected the spot where she’d stood, mopping it twice. Monica wasn’t Rick’s only affair. Just thinking about it made me feel dirty. Just as I was about to close the door, a large man squeezed his way in, a fake smile plastered on his face. “Hey, Sarah. Heard Rick ain’t around anymore?” 3 I recognized him immediately: “Fat Tony” Morelli, the owner of the bar where Rick ran up his gambling debts. No doubt about it, he was here to collect. Look at his professional dedication – always keeping tabs on his debtors. I’d barely finished identifying the body, and he’d already gotten the news and shown up at my door. I silently applauded his business acumen. I didn’t even bother pretending to be grieving. “Yeah, he’s gone. What can I do for you?” “Heh heh, well, Rick owed me a little something. Thought maybe you’d wanna settle up, you know? Save me the trouble of comin’ around too often.” That forced smile was sickening. And he was threatening me. “Tony, when Rick was alive, his debts were between you and him. Now that he’s dead, they still have nothing to do with me. I told you this before.” About a month ago, after paying off Rick’s gambling debts for the last time, I went to Fat Tony’s place and told him point-blank: any money Rick borrowed from then on was his problem. If they lent him more money to gamble, I wouldn’t be responsible for paying it back. At the time, they – including Rick – all thought I was just blowing hot air. Nobody paid any attention. Now he’s dead, and they expect me to pay? Not a chance. “You two were married! He dies, you pay his debts! Can’t afford it? Sell the house! Otherwise, I’ll have guys over here makin’ noise every single day!” The moment I refused, Fat Tony’s face hardened, his expression turning menacing. “The money he owed was for gambling. I didn’t know about it, it wasn’t spent on our family, and it doesn’t qualify as marital debt. I’m not paying it. As for the house, it’s in my name, bought before the marriage. If you try to force me to sell it, I’ll call the police.” With that, I pushed him towards the door. All these years, Rick took money to gamble, lost it, and then forced me to pay it back. Fat Tony and his cronies took my hard-earned money, yet they looked down on me for being a pushover. Fat Tony wouldn’t give up, bracing himself against the doorframe, cursing loudly in the hallway. “What’s going on here?” Two police officers appeared outside the door. Running an illegal gambling operation is, well, illegal. Under the officers’ stern gaze, Fat Tony mumbled something unintelligible and quickly scurried away. I invited the officers in, but one said, “No need for formalities, Ma’am. We need you to come back to the station with us.” “Rick Hanson’s parents have filed a report, accusing you of murdering him.”

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My husband had zero sex drive. Married five years, and I could count the times we’d done it on two hands. Maybe. Then my best friend hooked me up with a personal trainer. Clutching the “performance enhancers” I’d bought for my husband, I walked into the VIP locker room. Just as I was regretting this whole messed-up situation… The trainer’s smooth voice purred in my ear: “Don’t worry, everything here is strictly confidential.” 01. So, picture this: I was out shopping with my best friend, Sarah, and we walked past this sketchy-looking health supplement store. The ad on the glass door was blunt. You knew exactly what they were selling – stuff for guys who can’t get it up. While Sarah was trying on clothes in the boutique next door, I made a mad dash into the supplement shop. “That ad on the door, the stuff it mentions – give me two boxes!” I mumbled it, staring at my shoes, totally embarrassed, afraid to see the knowing look in the clerk’s eyes. As soon as I got the boxes, I practically sprinted back to the boutique. Sarah saw me clutching my chest, gasping for air. She put down the dress she was holding and came over. “Where’d you go? You look like you just ran a marathon.” I waved her off, lying through my teeth, “Just hit the restroom. Didn’t want you to worry if you couldn’t find me, so I kinda jogged back.” Sarah bought it. She stepped back, showing off the dress. “What do you think?” “Gorgeous. Total knockout,” I nodded, trying to sound convincing. “Good. I’m wearing this tonight to seduce my husband. Get ready for round three!” Sarah hugged herself, beaming. God, I was so jealous. Forget round three; I’d settle for once a month with my husband, Mark. I’d met Sarah’s husband before. Kinda plain-looking, but seemed like a decent, solid guy. Sarah mentioned he was a personal trainer. No wonder he was built like that – pecs, abs, the whole package. Imagine being pinned down by a guy like that… Nope, nope, nope. I shook my head hard, trying to squash that thought. After saying goodbye to Sarah, I felt the two boxes in my purse and practically flew home. Before Mark got back, I read the instructions inside and out, like three times, making sure there were no crazy side effects. He already had low libido; the last thing I needed was to make things worse. That would totally backfire. I dug out a sheer babydoll nightie I hadn’t worn in ages from the back of the closet. The hem barely covered my butt. Then I found a pair of black stockings, still in the package. Finally, I grabbed an unopened box from the nightstand drawer – probably bought it during some Black Friday sale last year. Everything was ready. All I needed was him. I glanced at the clock on the wall. Why wasn’t he home yet? “Hey, Mark, where are you? You’re late,” I called him. “Hey honey, got tied up with work stuff tonight. Go ahead and sleep, don’t wait up for me!” Are you kidding me… I hung up and threw my phone onto the bed in frustration. What a waste. All that effort for nothing. I looked at the pills on the nightstand. Didn’t want anyone finding them, so I emptied them into an old Tylenol bottle. Just then, Sarah called. She wanted me to come hang out at her husband’s gym. “Plus, tons of hotties,” she added. “Six-packs, built like refrigerators, you name it.” Okay… who could resist that? “Wait for me, I’m on my way.” 2: Two I changed quickly, put on some light makeup – enough to look presentable but still classy. As I was leaving, I grabbed the pill bottle. Not because I planned on using them, but I was worried Mark might find it and move it, and then I’d never find it again. I took a cab to the gym. It was brightly lit, buzzing with young professionals starting their evening routines. Definitely not my scene. I’m more of a ‘kick back and do nothing’ kind of person. If it weren’t for Sarah, I wouldn’t be caught dead here. But she was right. Wall-to-wall beefcakes. Everywhere I looked: bulging muscles, broad shoulders, thick arms. Oh my god. I was seriously losing it. The testosterone levels in here were off the charts. All I could think about was… well, never mind. Right then, my only thought was: “Okay, I might be getting older, but I’m still curious. Doesn’t mean I’m actually gonna do anything stupid!” Sarah introduced me to a personal trainer named Leo. Then she totally put me on the spot, telling him, “My friend here is loaded. If she doesn’t sign up for a membership today, don’t let her leave.” Whatever anyone else thought, I kinda liked hearing that. I was basically that rich housewife with nothing better to spend money on. Or, more accurately, my husband was loaded. He couldn’t satisfy me in the bedroom, but hey, at least he provided a very comfortable lifestyle. “Honey, I’ve got plenty of money, just spend whatever you want!” That’s what Mark always said. So, to prove his point, I slapped down my card and bought a $10,000 membership on the spot. The second the transaction went through, my phone rang. It was Mark. “Honey, what did you just buy? That’s a lot of money.” He sounded a little drunk. I pouted, annoyed. “What’s the big deal? You never asked when I spent ten times this much before. Now you’re worried about a measly ten grand?” Mark was quiet for a second. “Honey, it’s not about the money. I just mean, even if we have it, we shouldn’t waste it. Gotta spend wisely, you know?” Leo was standing right there, flexing, clearly getting impatient with Mark’s call. “Yeah, yeah, I got it. The day you go broke, I’ll learn how to spend wisely. Anything else? ‘Cause I gotta go.” Before he could say anything else, I hung up, ready to turn my attention back to Leo. 3: Three After a bunch of “hands-on” training demonstrations, I shook out my sore arms, feeling kind of… bored. It was a shame, all those muscles, and just getting little accidental touches through clothes. It was just enough to be a major tease. Leo must have read my mind. He gave me a knowing smile and nodded towards the locker room behind him. The VIP locker room. Separate access, only for members who spent $5,000 or more. Hey, that was me! The $10,000 sucker! I followed Leo into the VIP room. The first thing I saw was a display of all sorts of… toys. Whoa! Things could get really interesting in here! Suddenly, I remembered the way Sarah hesitated when she left, that little smirk she had. It clicked. This gym offered… other services. It was practically tailor-made for someone like me, wasn’t it? Hold on. A little voice in my head started arguing with my less noble thoughts. “Ashley, how could you even think about this! Mark loves you, he takes care of you! So what if he’s… not great in bed? Is that really an excuse to cheat?” Then another little voice piped up. “Isn’t that the biggest problem? I’m still young, only 29! Why should I have to pay the price because he can’t perform?” The two voices were giving me a headache. I stood frozen in the doorway, frowning, hesitant to go any further. Leo saw me hesitating and came back, gently pulling me inside. Well, you can’t blame me now, right? I was practically dragged in! Inside the locker room, there was another, smaller room with just a comfy-looking loveseat. Leo walked in and immediately pulled off his shirt, revealing impressive pecs. He even flexed them at me. Too much. Way too much! I swallowed hard, trying to be subtle about it, my hands nervously smoothing the seams of my pants. “Ashley,” he said, using my first name now, “Sarah mentioned you know the deal. Pick whatever you like. I’ll make sure you have a good time tonight.” The deal? Sarah hadn’t mentioned any specific deal. But I got the picture. After a fierce internal battle, I made a promise to myself: “Just this once. Never again!” “You guys… you keep client information confidential, right?” I asked, needing reassurance. Leo nodded easily. “Absolutely, Ashley. Rule number one in this business is discretion. Lips are sealed.” Okay, that made me feel a bit better. Just as he started walking towards me, shirtless, I held up a hand to stop him. Then, I pulled the Tylenol bottle out of my purse. “I don’t have a cold,” Leo said, looking confused. I shook my head. “A little something extra… to make sure you perform well tonight.” He knew exactly what I meant…

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I suspected my father killed my mother. I took him to court. Sure enough, Dad confessed. But when they simulated the crime scene, the way he said he killed her… it was all wrong. 01 My name is Ava Johnson. I was the valedictorian for my state. I should have been heading off to an Ivy League school on a full scholarship. But now, my life has taken a completely different turn. Outside the courthouse, I tried to shield my eyes from the blinding sun, lifting a hand, but it was useless. I couldn’t help but sigh, shaking my head with a bitter taste in my mouth… I remember it like it was yesterday, a year ago, driving up to my dad’s big house in the suburbs. He was eating dinner at the time. When he saw me, he looked genuinely surprised. It had been a long time since I’d seen him. I hadn’t even called him once lately. Quickly, though, he recovered, his face lighting up. “Ava, why didn’t you tell me you were coming? Haven’t eaten yet, right? Perfect timing, come eat with Dad.” There was a pleading tone in his voice. I didn’t budge. He looked at me, confused. “Ava?” Back then, my body couldn’t stop trembling slightly. I slowly held out my blood-stained hands towards him. I remember it vividly. The moment Dad saw my hands, he panicked. “Ava, what happened? What’s wrong?” He rushed over, grabbing my hands tightly in his. By then, I was already sobbing uncontrollably. “My… my mom’s dead…” “Ava, what… what… what did you say?” “Mom was murdered. She… she was lying in a pool of blood. She… I… I saw it with my own eyes…” Clearly, I was starting to ramble, not making much sense. “Ava, don’t be scared. Dad’s here. Dad’s right here…” “Dad? Don’t be scared?” I glared at him, and with strength I didn’t know I had, I shoved him hard. He stumbled and fell to the ground. “Michael Johnson, tell me, was it you? Did you kill my mother?” “Ava, what are you talking about! How could I possibly kill your mom?” I pointed at him, shouting, “Not you? How could it not be you? You just left Mom’s place, and then she died! Are you telling me you didn’t do it?” Dad stared at me, completely bewildered. “When was I at your mom’s? Ava, tell me, are you feeling okay? Please don’t scare me like this!” He got up and started walking towards me. I shook my head, backing away. “Michael! Do you think nobody knows what you did? I’m telling you, someone saw you leaving Mom’s house! What excuse do you have now?” “Ava Johnson, what nonsense are you spouting!” Dad looked utterly shocked, disbelief written all over his face. He took a deep breath, shook his head sadly, and said, “Ava, yes, it’s true, your mother and I were going to get divorced. But I had no reason to kill her!” “No reason? Or are you just afraid to say it!” I stared him straight in the eye. “Mom fell for some other guy. She was going to take back all her shares in the company. Isn’t that a reason?” “Get out! Just get the hell out! I don’t have an ungrateful daughter like you!” “Hit a nerve, didn’t I, Michael? Now you’re angry!” Dad looked at me with deep disappointment. He pointed towards the door and yelled, “Ava Johnson, get out right now! I never want to see you again!” “Michael! Don’t think just because you killed Mom, you’ll get everything. No way. Absolutely not. I’m going to call the police right now. Right this second!” “Ava Johnson, you stop right there!” I ignored him and walked straight out the door. Impulse had clouded my judgment. I stepped outside the house, ready to dial 911. I fumbled in my pockets for a while before realizing I’d forgotten my phone. It took me over half an hour to get back to my uncle’s place, where I finally called the police. 2: Dad’s Missing? An hour later, I led the responding officers to the scene. After the Medical Examiner’s on-site assessment, it was confirmed: my mother’s death was not from natural causes. That same night, the police took me in to give a statement. I remember the officer who took my statement was a middle-aged detective named Miller. That day, I sat in the interrogation room. He kindly placed a cup of water in front of me. “Ava, I’m very sorry for your loss. Right now, I need you to try and remember everything you can about your mother. It will greatly help our investigation, understand?” I nodded, took a small sip of water, and said, “Okay, Detective. Ask whatever you need. I’ll do my best to remember.” He didn’t say anything immediately, just opened his laptop and typed for a moment before asking, “When was the last time you saw your mother?” Without hesitation, I replied, “Tonight.” “You weren’t living with your mother, correct?” “That’s right. Because I was preparing for my SATs and applying to college, I’d been staying at my uncle’s house so he could help me study.” “So, what was the reason you suddenly went home last night?” I lowered my head, thought for a moment, then said, “I ran out of spending money. I was planning to ask Mom for some cash.” Detective Miller nodded, then shuffled through some papers beside him. “We checked your mother’s bank accounts. There were no transactions involving anyone tonight.” “My mom didn’t give me any money.” “Why not?” “I don’t know.” He gave me a long look but didn’t press further. He continued, “How was your mother’s relationship with your father?” “They were planning to get divorced, but it kept getting postponed because of my college applications.” “Did you know your mother was pregnant?” I looked at him, completely stunned. “My mother was pregnant?” “Yes. According to the ME’s report, your mother was three months pregnant.” At that moment, my mind was reeling. Mom was pregnant? But wasn’t she divorcing Dad? Could it have been… that other guy’s child? Thinking this, I looked at Detective Miller and quickly asked, “Does my father know?” He shook his head. “We haven’t located your father yet.” Dad was missing? Wasn’t he just at his house earlier? He must have fled because he was guilty! Before I could process this, Detective Miller suddenly asked, “Do you know if your mother had conflicts with anyone recently? Any major arguments?” I thought for a moment. “I don’t really know much about Mom’s private affairs, but in my memory, the only person she ever had a huge fight with was my father.” Detective Miller then looked pointedly at me, his gaze shifting to my hands. “Ava, what about the bloodstains on your hands?” “I went to see Mom today, but I never expected… to find her lying in a pool of blood. I went over to try and help her up, but… but I realized she was already…” My voice choked up, and I couldn’t continue. Detective Miller handed me a pack of tissues. He waited quietly for me to compose myself. “Ava, do you need to take a break?” I shook my head. “No, it’s okay. I just want to catch the person who killed my mom as soon as possible.” Detective Miller resumed his questions. “Can you tell me a bit about your parents’ story?” 3: Dad Gets Caught I took a moment to gather my thoughts and then told him everything I knew. “My mom’s family was wealthy, business owners. Dad came from a poor background; he basically married into money. Their relationship had been falling apart for years. I did hear Mom say she’d fallen for another man…” It took about an hour for me to lay out the whole messy history between my parents – their relationship, the conflicts, the arguments. It felt like recounting some dramatic soap opera. Throughout my explanation, Detective Miller’s fingers never stopped tapping on the keyboard. I knew he was meticulously recording my statement. After I finished, he typed a bit more and then said, “Okay, Ava, that should be all for now. I’ll arrange for someone to take you home. For the time being, please don’t leave the city. We’ll notify you immediately if we have any news, okay?” I nodded. “Okay, thank you, Detective Miller. Actually, my uncle is waiting outside for me. Can I go back with him?” Detective Miller thought for a second and agreed. He walked me out of the station. From a distance, I saw my Uncle David pacing nervously beside his car. When we reached him, he clearly startled seeing the detective with me. “Ava, who’s this?” I quickly explained, “Uncle David, this is Detective Miller. He’s in charge of Mom’s case.” Uncle David immediately grabbed Detective Miller’s hand firmly. “Detective, you have to find the killer. Please, please don’t let the perpetrator get away with this!” Detective Miller nodded seriously. “Rest assured, sir. We won’t let any guilty party go free, nor will we wrongly accuse an innocent person.” Hearing this, Uncle David let out a long sigh. “Well, we’re counting on you then.” “It’s our job,” Miller replied. Later that night, Uncle David drove me back to his place. Neither of us spoke during the ride; the atmosphere was incredibly tense. It wasn’t until we arrived at his house that Uncle David asked, “Ava, do the police have any suspects?” I glanced at my uncle and shook my head. “I don’t know.” He just looked at me briefly and didn’t say anything more. Just as I was getting out of the car, I suddenly added, “They said my dad seems to be missing.” Uncle David looked at me with a complicated expression. “Ava, you…” I forced a weak, strained smile. “I’m okay.” For the next few days, I stayed at Uncle David’s house. During that time, I constantly checked for news about Michael Johnson’s whereabouts. In my heart, I had already decided: Michael killed my mother. It sounds crazy, doesn’t it? Suspecting my own father of brutally murdering my mom. But the facts seemed undeniable. If it wasn’t him, why would he run? If not him, then who else could it be? Every time I thought about it, my head felt like it was going to split open. Uncle David was always there for me during this period, taking meticulous care of me. Now, he was my only remaining family. The only person I felt I could trust. As we waited anxiously, news finally came from the police department. The news was, frankly, what I had expected. Their investigation had yielded results. Under my mother’s fingernails, they found a piece of skin tissue that wasn’t hers. DNA testing confirmed it belonged to my father. Furthermore, not far from the crime scene, officers found a knife. A knife stained with my mother’s blood. Forensic analysis revealed my father’s fingerprints were also on the handle. Consequently, the police focused their investigation squarely on my father. Just as I thought. Michael Johnson! He was now the prime suspect. And currently, the only suspect. But during this time, it was like he had vanished into thin air. No matter how hard the police searched, there was no trace of him. Until the department issued an APB, a wanted notice. Through the combined efforts of the public and the police, Michael Johnson was finally caught.

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It was just another Tuesday when a consult request popped up from a new client. A guy this time. “Hi there, how can I help you?” I typed back. “Hey. Got a problem. I don’t think my girlfriend loves me at all.” So, a little about me: I’m a relationship counselor, got a bit of a reputation around town, especially with women. My inbox is constantly flooded with emails and messages, mostly from young women tangled up in relationship drama. I started this gig thinking I could be this rational, objective voice, helping people sort through the messiness of love and marriage, maybe even patching things up. But honestly? Nowadays, my main job feels like pulling girls back from the brink of being completely lovesick and losing themselves. Thanks to this job, I have zero illusions about romance. Zilch. All I feel is this bone-deep frustration for all the smart women who get stuck in crappy relationships and just refuse to wake up. It’s been ages since I had a male client. Not sure if my rep is just bigger in female circles or if guys these days genuinely don’t sweat this stuff. Anyway, I was planning on clocking out early today. The team and I had plans for dinner – K-BBQ night. I was just about to shut down my laptop when the notification pinged. New client. Male. Okay, that piqued my interest a little. I fired off a quick reply. “Hi there, how can I help you?” “Hey. Got a problem. I don’t think my girlfriend loves me at all.” A small smile played on my lips. You don’t hear guys say that too often. Based on experience, these types usually fall into two camps: either they’re not exactly God’s gift to women, maybe the persistent ‘nice guy’ who finally wore her down, and now she’s just keeping him around as a placeholder until someone better comes along. Or, they’re just testing the waters, and they’ll bail the second they see my rates. “Can you tell me more about the situation?” I asked. Just then, my assistant, bless her heart, poked her head in. “Annie? You ready? We got the reservation at the K-BBQ place.” “Coming!” I called back, shutting down the computer, grabbing my jacket, and heading out with the crew. Once I hopped in the car, I logged into my work account on my phone. The new guy had sent a wall of text. “She never texts or calls me first. When I reach out, she’s totally hot and cold.” “Her job seems super demanding, but even when she’s free, she’s always grabbing dinner with colleagues or her girlfriends. Hardly ever with me.” “We’ve been together six months, and she hasn’t made us official – like, nothing on social media, hasn’t introduced me to her friends or family. I try to bring her around my friends, but she always says it’s too much hassle and bails. Meeting my family? Forget about it.” “We only see each other maybe four or five times a month. And if it’s her time of the month, she won’t see me then either. I’m starting to suspect… she’s just using me for sex…” 2 Reading that last part, I had to stifle a laugh. Hearing that come out of a guy’s mouth was definitely… interesting. He’d sent all that and then gone quiet, probably because I hadn’t responded yet. “Sorry,” I typed quickly, “Just got stuck in the elevator for a sec. Please, continue.” He replied instantly: “Why were you in an elevator? Are you off work?” Not exactly a typical client question, but maybe he’d just been staring at his screen waiting, and it slipped out. I was in a pretty good mood, and honestly, kind of curious about this rare male client. “Yeah, clocked out. Guess I’m working overtime taking your consult now.” “Are you going to dinner?” “Yep.” “With colleagues?” “Yep.” “What are you eating?” “K-BBQ.” Okay, hold up. This conversation was getting way too casual. Super unprofessional of me to just chat like this. I sat up a little straighter in the car seat. Even off the clock, gotta stay professional. “Sir, perhaps we can get back to the main issue?” “Right. Basically, I just feel really insecure in this relationship.” Everything he was describing – these were usually the complaints I heard from women. Classic case of one person being way more into it than the other, maybe even emotional neglect, but nobody wants to pull the plug, so the relationship just hangs there in limbo. If there wasn’t any major abuse or crazy drama involved, I usually classified these as lower-tier emotional issues. The simplest solution? Tell them to break up. And don’t think that’s easy. Convincing some lovesick girl to ditch a relationship she’s poured her heart into? Seriously tough. Guys, though? They tend to be more pragmatic. Which is why, honestly, they’re not the most lucrative clients in the relationship counseling biz. 3 Just then, my phone pinged again. A notification showing a hefty payment. This guy had just signed up for my premium annual package. Wow. Okay, maybe he wasn’t just kicking tires. “We’re here,” my colleague driving announced. “Okay, you go eat first. We can talk after you’re done,” Liam typed. Huh. Pretty considerate. I’d been bracing myself to juggle work messages throughout dinner. My initial assessment started to shift. This Liam guy didn’t seem like some clueless dude-bro with zero emotional intelligence. And dropping that kind of cash suggested he wasn’t broke either. So, what was the issue? Was he… really unattractive? Too bad I couldn’t just ask for a picture unless the client offered. Professional boundaries and all that. Still, I really wanted to know what this guy looked like. It was weird. I’d become so numb to this job, running on autopilot most days. It had been a long time since a client actually made me genuinely curious. During dinner, I shared the news about the big client win with my team. As we raised our glasses to celebrate, my phone buzzed. I glanced down. It was Liam again. “Don’t drink too much.” My eyebrows furrowed slightly. Okay, that felt… a little over the line. Maybe it was the occupational hazard kicking in, but my immediate thought was that a guy with a girlfriend showing that kind of concern for another woman felt like a red flag. Kind of player-ish. If a female client told me her boyfriend did that? My advice would be: Dump him. Mr. Friendly, maybe? Was his girlfriend maybe turned off because he was too nice to everyone? And maybe he hadn’t realized that was the problem, just assuming she wasn’t into him? I picked at my food, my mind racing, trying to piece together Liam and his girlfriend’s story. God, I’m too dedicated to this job, I thought. After dinner, a colleague dropped me home. On the way, I opened my work chat again, clicking on the conversation with my newly minted, very important VIP annual client. “Liam, I’m done with dinner. Shall we continue?” He replied instantly: “Okay.” “I was thinking about it earlier,” I typed, deciding to test my theory. “Liam, would you say you sometimes lack clear boundaries with other women? I mean, while having a girlfriend, do you still show maybe a bit too much concern or friendliness to other females?” “Absolutely not! Besides my girlfriend, I don’t exchange unnecessary words with any woman. I’d steer clear of a female mosquito!”

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My kid had been snatched. The kidnappers had shoved him into some kind of ice cellar, livestreaming his torture for the world to see. My heart hammered in my chest, so I immediately called my billionaire husband. He brushed me off, all nonchalant. “Last time it was Little League tryouts, this time you’re staging a kidnapping to get my attention? Give it a rest, babe.” His sweet thing, Brittany, chimed in, her voice dripping with sugar. “Honey, Steven’s got a million things on his plate every day. Why are you being so childish? Even my five-year-old, Liam, is more mature than you.” They hung up on me before I could even get the words out: “The kid being kidnapped is your son, Liam.” … The moment I heard my son was missing, I tore off to the police station. On the way, the kidnappers sent me a video. The kid was hooded, his hands and feet tied tight to a metal chair. He was wearing his school uniform, but I spotted the Bradford family crest on his blazer right away, and those limited-edition sneakers he always wore. The wall behind him was made of thick ice blocks, radiating this bone-chilling cold. He was shivering so hard, his thin clothes offering no protection. His voice was hoarse as he cried, “Mommy! Daddy! Where are you? I’m so scared!” The kidnapper cackled, all menacing. “I want to see ten million bucks in two hours, or the kid gets it!” My blood ran cold. I was about to pass out when the daycare director grabbed me. “Mrs. Bradford, he was taken on his way to school. The police are already checking the security footage. You gotta stay strong for him.” I took a deep breath and forced myself to calm down. I wired over the five million I had available, no questions asked. Just then, someone shouted. “They’re livestreaming it!” Even though all the kidnapper was showing was his eyes, the cold-blooded cruelty in them sent shivers down everyone’s spine. He kept tapping a hunting knife on the metal chair. Each tap felt like a stab in my own chest. “Mrs. Bradford, you trying to play me? Five million won’t even buy you half your kid.” Before I could respond, he slashed the knife across Liam’s arm. Liam screamed, a gut-wrenching sound, and passed out. I begged the cops to help me negotiate, pleading, “Please, don’t hurt him. I’ll figure out how to get the rest of the money.” To prove I was serious, I called Steven again. It rang forever, and then Brittany answered. She said, all snarky, “You guys are getting divorced, why are you bothering Steven?” I didn’t have time for her crap. “Liam’s been kidnapped! Get Steven to wire over five million to get him back!” I heard giggling on the other end of the line. Steven’s voice dripped with mockery. “Seriously? Pulling this stunt again? Last time you had Liam fake being sick to get attention, now this. Give it a rest. ” I insisted, “I’m not lying! Liam is in real danger! I sent you the video!” Steven was silent for a moment. But Brittany started laying into me. “You are unbelievable. Seriously? Trying to fool us with some deepfake video.” “Steven’s busy, you know? You’re acting like a five year old, just like my Liam!” Steven let out a short laugh. “The five million for the divorce is already yours. You trying to get more money, huh?” I lowered my voice, begging, “You won’t even miss the money. Please, just lend me five million, okay?” Steven acted like I was a piece of gum stuck to his shoe. He spat out the words, his voice filled with annoyance. “No way, lady!” I felt tears welling up. “You gonna just let Liam die?” All I heard was the dial tone. The kidnapper, who’d been watching everything, lost it. He kicked over the metal chair and stomped on Liam’s stomach. “Worthless trash doesn’t deserve to live!” Just as I was losing all hope, the security guard at the station came running in. “The kid’s back! He’s right outside! Everyone, come quick!” 2 Liam looked dazed as he came running over. He threw himself into my arms, sobbing. I checked him for injuries, relief washing over me. He was barefoot, but otherwise seemed unharmed. The director sighed, wiping sweat from her forehead. “Thank God, the kid’s safe!” The police officer next to me was holding his phone, a grim expression on his face. “But the livestream is still going. So who is the kid who got kidnapped?” The kidnappers had only said they snatched Steven Bradford’s son. The teachers hadn’t paid attention, and when they did a headcount, they found out that Brittany’s son, Liam, was missing. The director’s heart sank. “What the hell is going on?” Liam was already asleep, resting his head on my shoulder. Seeing the obvious signs of struggle, I started to put the pieces together. The livestream was blowing up. People recognized the Bradford crest on the kid’s blazer. [This kidnapper is out of his mind! Kidnapping the Bradford heir!] The kidnapper laughed, all cocky. “If the Bradfords don’t come up with the cash, I’m gonna slice this kid up and make sashimi out of him.” The cops told me to play along, to avoid spooking the kidnapper. They also told Brittany what was happening with Liam. She started sobbing, all dramatic. “You’re playing games with my sister-in-law, and you’re putting a curse on my kid?!” The police officer was still trying to explain when Steven cut him off. “Who gave you the right to joke about my sweet thing’s kid? I want your badge number. I’m reporting you for incompetence!” The officer, serious, said, “We are not joking about a child’s life. If you don’t cooperate, you might miss the best opportunity to save him.” Steven scoffed. “Yeah, I’ll wait for the coroner to pick up the body.” Silence fell over the station. Everyone stared at me with a mix of sympathy and pity. Getting Steven’s help was out of the question. Liam wasn’t my kid, but as a mother, I couldn’t stand the thought of him being tortured. I scraped together every penny I could, plus the donations from the daycare staff. It barely reached four and a half million. The kidnappers gave us no time to breathe. They started the torture right in front of everyone online. Liam’s arm was a bloody mess. The floor was covered in blood, almost like a stream. The pain was so intense, he was screaming until his throat was raw, his legs jerking around without control. Viewers were tearing down the parents. [Are the parents dead? How can the richest family in this town leave their kid to suffer like this!] Some sympathetic viewers started donating. Gifts poured in. In the flood of comments, a discordant voice rang out. [This is a scam! Don’t believe it! Bradford already said it’s fake!] I quickly snapped a photo of Liam, showing he was safe. I sent it to Steven. [Liam is right here with me. The kid being kidnapped is really Liam. Stop messing this up!] Then Brittany called in the kidnappers during the livestream. In contrast to the bloody horror, the camera focused on a British shorthair cat. It was curled up on a velvet carpet, fast asleep. Steven petted the cat gently, his eyes filled with love. Then, serious, he said, “I already confirmed with the school. Little Liam is fine. I advise you to stop this livestream now, or I will sue you.” A wave of sadness washed over me. Steven didn’t trust me at all. He even made up facts without checking them. Brittany, all innocent, asked, “Steven, won’t this ruin his sister-in-law’s plans? I think she really wants more followers.” Steven’s face turned hard, the tenderness vanished. “Using a kid for a cheap publicity stunt. I should have kicked her out of the family a long time ago.” Egged on by them, the kidnapper stabbed Liam again. Liam didn’t have the strength to cry anymore. He just shivered, trying to fight the pain. Brittany gasped. “Kidnapper, your acting is too good. Since you’re working so hard, why don’t we play a game.” 3 “Let’s see who gets the most donations. If you win, I’ll give you all the money I get. If I win, you don’t have to pay me anything, just double the ransom. What do you say?” The kidnapper, who wanted money, agreed right away. Brittany signaled the cat to do two backflips. Steven laughed. He took out his phone and tapped the screen. Gifts poured in. Steven said with a deep look of love, “A million bucks a flip. Thanks for making me happy.” People began to see that it was me trying to pull a fast one. They started asking for money back. [Bradford doesn’t need the money. He doesn’t want to play games with you.] [You are scum, using children to play on my heart. Give me my money back!] [Sister, Bradford’s honey is sweeter than you.] We needed more money to save the kid, but no one would help. The kidnapper looked greedy. “The ransom is twenty million now. I want the money in 30 minutes. Or the kid loses a finger.” I asked Brittany, “What do you think you are doing?!” Brittany played innocent. “Sister, I know you are planning this livestream. Just stop! I’m playing a game to teach you that this will not work. Liam is too young to be in such a violent livestream. What if it gives him problems for his whole life?” Steven was angry. “Shelly, this is your last chance. Apologize and admit what you did. I’ll give you fifty million divorce settlement.” Brittany chimed in, “Yeah, you are Bradford’s wife, act like it. Apologize!” The detective was angry. “They are crazy. We cannot deal with them now. We need to rescue the hostage now.” Viewers commented angry things. The kidnapper was done. He grabbed a old blade and tried to cut off Liam’s little finger. Liam screamed in pain. Even the cops were angry and sad. Brittany yawned. “I’m going to eat with Steven.” A comment came. [I think I hear a child crying around the old factory near the school!] We went to save the hostage. Twenty minutes later, we found the kid. Liam was hurt. His white jacket was covered in blood. I went to the hospital. The doctor was worried. “The child lost a lot of blood. He needs a blood transfusion.” I rolled up my sleeve. “I have his blood type!” Just as the doctor tried to inject me, a fast car crashed in front of us. Steven got out. “Shelly, are you trying to fool everyone?! Go home!” Brittany smirked. “Sister, this is not funny! Take Liam home!” I showed them Liam. “See for yourself who was kidnapped!”

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My husband tricked me into the middle of nowhere, planning to chop off my hands and feet and leave me to die. That’s when I found out my little brother was drowning in gambling debts. They were playing cards, laughing and joking: “Once Ashley and her loser brother are gone, her company’s mine! It’s worth tens of millions! Let’s play for high stakes tonight!” Their bets were about which of my limbs to hack off first. As the blade came down, I stopped him. “Let me play a hand with you. If I win, you let us go. If I lose, do whatever you want.” My husband smirked. “What are you going to use as collateral?” I sat up straighter. “My life.” My freshly-graduated brother was sobbing, groveling at my feet, his voice hoarse from crying. “Ash, no! You can’t do this! You’ll die! Please, don’t!” My brother, David, has always been a good kid, idolizing me and my husband, Kevin. Ever since I married Kevin, he’s been like a puppy dog following him around, saying he wanted to learn the business from him. After our parents died, he’s my only family, and trusting Kevin, I didn’t interfere much. A small successful project went to his head and now he was loaded and went to casinos and lost everything, every cent. I shook my head. “You think you have a future after this? They clearly want us dead. This is our only chance.” David looked like he’d seen a ghost, his tears stopping, his body shaking. My heart ached for him, but I kept my face blank. The money he lost, including his car and apartment, added up to over a million dollars. How could a kid fresh out of college be so reckless? Kevin had clearly set this up with his buddies. Kevin’s goal wasn’t just a million bucks, it was my company and my assets. This whole thing was an opportunity to teach this kid a lesson, that he can’t trust everyone. “Ashley, don’t play with them! You’ll die! I’ll… I’ll become a male escort to pay this off!” Hearing those words made my blood boil. That must’ve been Kevin’s idea too. Taking my money and my company, I could accept because I knew in my heart where my company’s foundations started. But they weren’t going to ruin my brother like this, force him to sell himself. It was an outrage. I helped David up, patted his hand, and signaled Kevin to start. David couldn’t stand straight, his eyes pleading. Ignoring him, I smiled. “It’s been a while since I’ve played. Maybe I’ll win.” Kevin smirked, gesturing to the table in the RV. We were in the middle of the desert, where the law doesn’t reach, exposing the worst of human nature. He wasn’t my husband anymore, just an enemy. Kevin’s brother, Mike, and his female assistant, Sarah, were sitting next to him, also in on this scheme. “Ashley, don’t say I didn’t warn you. We’re all pros at the table. You sure you can handle this?” Kevin’s brother, Mike, was a lowlife. Ever since Kevin married me and had money, he’s been partying and drinking. Because of their ages, my brother and him have hung out a lot, and I told him to stay away. But David, being naive, thought Mike was just a bit of a party animal. Now he’d been tricked into this game, risking his life. Kevin glared at my brother. “Kid, you better tell your sister not to play. I was going to let you live, but she’s dragging you to your death!” His usual charm was gone, revealing his true self. Kevin used to be my driver, but we grew close and fell in love, so I married him. Now it all made sense. He got close to me, tricked me, brought me to this remote area, never intending for us to leave alive. David stared at me, his eyes filled with panic. I sat down, smiling. “We’re all going to die anyway. Why shouldn’t I take a chance?” David tugged at my sleeve. “Ashley, just give them the money! We’ll at least live!” I slapped him across the face. “You think they’ll let you leave? You made this mess, you deal with it!” David covered his face, unable to speak. Kevin lit a cigarette, glancing at me with contempt. “Ashley, if you’re playing, what are you betting?” “Your brother already lost over a million and owes me another million. If he can’t pay, I’ll have to sell him as a male escort.” “Or you can transfer your company to me now, all your assets. Then I might consider letting you go.” He laughed cruelly. That must’ve been how he threatened David. Which led David to almost getting hit on the road, only to be saved by me and tricked into this trip. “I have something to bet.” I smiled calmly, grabbing David’s hand and slamming it on the table. “Name your price.” Then, I held up my phone. “I’m recording everything. If you try anything, this video goes straight to the cops.” Kevin glanced at it. “A pair of hands… worth ten grand.” David was terrified, speechless except for his crying. I felt awful, but I had to do this. He needed to learn. “Ashley, you’re cold. Fine. Let’s start.” 2 Kevin wanted to deal, but I stopped him. “My brother lost. I’m the dealer now.” Mike protested, but Kevin smiled slightly. “Okay.” As he said that, Kevin’s assistant nudged Mike, and they exchanged a look. I smiled, this must be their signal to cheat. Pretending not to notice, I dealt the cards, in order, like normal. The rules were a $10,000 ante, with a $500,000 single bet limit. Looking at my hand, as the dealer, I put in the $10,000. Next up was Mike, and he bet $500,000 without looking. Kevin matched the $500,000. “$500,000, unopened.” Then he looked at me with a taunting expression. Sarah giggled. According to the rules, if I looked at my cards, I’d have to double the bet to stay in. Which meant I’d have to put another million out there, but I didn’t have enough chips. I was left with one choice: fold and lose $20,000. They were obviously trying to swindle me, and I couldn’t do anything. Sarah nudged Mike again. “That’s a little rough. You can’t be bullying her for not having enough money?” Mike grinned. “Ashley, sorry. I forgot you were broke.” He said that, but his eyes were full of glee. “I’ll give you a break. Next hand, $100,000 limit.” He reached to take my chips. “Wait!” “I’m in. A million, unopened.” Kevin’s eyes widened. “Ashley! You’re writing an IOU? You don’t have the chips!” Mike chimed in sarcastically. “Ashley, if you don’t know how to play, quit faking it.” David sobbed, moving closer. “Ashley, we’re $800,000 short.” Without a word, I grabbed him and slammed him onto the table. “Kevin, how much is his life worth?” “Ashley!” David was losing hope, crying. Kevin glanced at my brother. “His organs, all together, maybe a million.” “Ashley, you’re trying to get your brother killed…” Mike couldn’t believe it. David screamed. “Ashley! I was wrong, I was wrong! Don’t gamble! I don’t want my organs taken out!” I kicked him away. “You should have thought about this when you were gambling!” “You told me not to gamble. Why did you gamble in the first place?!” I shouted and he began to cry. I felt awful, but I needed to stay cold. I had to make David realize how horrible gambling is. After signing the contract, I had a million. I put in $500,000. “Matching $500,000, unopened!” Kevin was stunned. “Ashley… are you serious?” I smirked. “You were going to chop off my limbs. I think I’m being pretty generous.” “Enough talk. Mike, your turn.” Mike looked at me and then Kevin, frowning. “I fold.” Since I dealt the cards, he wasn’t confident, so he didn’t bet. Kevin folded too. I won the first hand, taking a million dollars. Kevin snatched the cards, clearly furious. “I lost. My turn to deal.” “Fine.” His eyes, that use to show gentle love, were now full of malice and hatred, wanting to eat me alive. “Ashley, I didn’t realize you were such a hard-ass. How about we remove the limit, you down?” “Whatever.” That’s what I was waiting for! “Ashley! Don’t!” David fell to his knees. “Shut up! Your body parts are on loan. Get lost!” “Where was that enthusiasm when you were gambling?” Kevin and his buddies argued amongst themselves, worried I’d listen and not play. I slapped the table. “Get lost! You’re the one who caused this! If you say another word, I’ll tell them to take you apart!” David didn’t dare speak. Kevin dealt, putting a million dollars in. “A million, unopened. You in?” “Yeah.” I pretended to be tough, also putting a million in. Mike put a million in. I sighed with relief, they’ve all fallen for my trick!

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I have killer pollen allergies, but I absolutely love flowers. My husband, Leo, always picked out the most realistic silk flowers to cheer me up. I wasn’t crazy about him at first, honestly. But he bent over backwards for me, treated me like gold. After my parents died unexpectedly, nobody had been that good to me, so… yeah, I married him. This was supposed to be our honeymoon. Leo brought me down to Cancun. My best friend, Ashley, had called me countless times, warning me not to trust Leo so completely. Back then, I was so naive. I told her, “Ash, he promised he’d stop gambling. He really cares about me, and that’s what matters.” I never, ever imagined that his “caring” was actually him carefully plotting my death. It hit me when I was in the bathroom. I started choking, struggling to breathe, and collapsed. That’s when I saw them – the fake flowers decorating the vanity had been swapped out for real ones. Loads of them. My EpiPen was gone too. Sobbing, my voice ragged, I called out for Leo. Silence. I started banging on the wall, trying to make enough noise for him to hear me. Then, through the crack under the door, I saw his shadow pacing just outside. That’s when the last shred of hope drained out of me. He was waiting for me to die. That was my last thought before everything went black. I thought that was it. I was going to die right there, painfully, on that cold tile floor. But then… I felt strangely light. My soul, or whatever it was, felt like smoke drifting out of my body. Suddenly, I was watching everything like an outsider: Leo waited by the bathroom door until he was sure I was nearly gone, then burst in with the hotel manager, putting on a big show. His screams, his tears… everyone in the hotel bought it. Leo, the devoted husband, devastated by his wife’s tragic accident. Then, right in front of everyone, he “found” the EpiPen in the cabinet by the sink – the one he’d hidden there earlier. Proof, he told everyone, that the life-saving medicine was right there. His vigilance was flawless, see? I watched him take me to the hospital. Watched him pretend not to understand the doctors – stalling, refusing to sign the consent forms for treatment. I watched him coordinate with some shady local contacts to secretly move my barely-alive body out of the hospital. Then, bold as brass, he turned around and threatened to sue the hospital, claiming they’d lost his wife, possibly to traffickers. I watched him play the grieving husband online, milking the tragedy for all it was worth. He used the handle “GrievingForMyLove,” raking in donations and sympathy online. Behind the scenes, though? I heard him telling those ruthless local guys that he didn’t care what happened to me – if they trafficked me, harvested my organs, whatever – as long as I never made it back to the States alive. At that moment, in my vision, I felt violated, like I’d been assaulted by those disgusting men he’d handed me over to, stripped bare and tied up. I watched Leo – the man who supposedly pulled me out of the darkness after my parents died – push me personally into this living hell. All so he could inherit my family’s fortune, looking heartbroken but “resigned” to the world. The last time I saw him in that vision, I was bound, gagged, screaming silently in my head for him to just look at me. One last look. But when he turned and walked away, it was so final. No hesitation. Clean break. I’d been struggling, whimpering, desperate for him to notice me, to save me. But in that instant, a chill colder than death washed over me, and I went completely still. Ashley’s words finally slammed into me: Leo doesn’t love you. He loves your money. All this time, he’d been playing me. All this time, I’d been lying to myself. Suddenly, a powerful force yanked me back, back into my body lying on the bathroom floor. The suffocating feeling of pollen vanished. In fact, for a split second, I could actually smell the sweet fragrance of the flowers. My allergy… it was gone! Two Hurt, longing, terror, and the sheer, heart-pounding relief of being alive washed over me. Lying there, I bit down hard on my lip, swallowing the sobs that threatened to erupt. I pushed myself up, wiped the tears in front of the mirror, picked up the towel from the floor, wrapped it around myself again, and splashed my face with water. Knock, knock, knock. “Chloe? Honey, you okay? You’ve been in there forever!” Leo’s voice cut through the sound of the running water. I couldn’t help but let out a cold, bitter laugh. The second he heard water, he was banging on the door. Confused, wasn’t he? Wondering how the woman who should be unconscious, maybe dead, from a severe allergic reaction was calmly taking a shower? He kept knocking, louder now, his voice rising in fake panic. I knew this routine. It was his way of attracting the hotel staff, the manager. Leaning against the sink, I picked up the EpiPen he’d hidden. My mind raced. How could I make this demon suffer? How could I turn his greedy dream into a nightmare? Soon, I heard voices outside the door, the jingle of keys. Busy noises. Leo, in his terrible Spanish, was telling someone outside, “My wife… she’s not well… I’m very worried about her.” The door was about to open. An idea sparked. The moment the door swung open, Leo rushed in, face etched with fake panic, yelling, “Chloe!” Then he saw me. I dramatically slumped to the floor, scattering the EpiPen pills around me. His expression, his whole body, just froze. It was almost comical. I put on a show of struggling weakly to my feet, then staggered over to the hotel manager and, pulling my arm back, slapped him hard across the face. The manager stared at me, stunned, then furious, utterly bewildered. The security guards nearby immediately pulled out their phones, recording everything. “What the hell is wrong with you people?!” I yelled, playing the outraged victim. “My husband told you! I have a severe pollen allergy! And you fill the room with real flowers?! Are you trying to kill me?” “Ma’am… Señora… I don’t understand…” the manager stammered. “You don’t understand? Leo, tell them! Didn’t you tell them when we checked in – absolutely no real flowers in the room?” I shoved Leo forward, right into the spotlight, right in front of all the recording phones. “Tell them! Didn’t you specifically say I have a pollen allergy?!” Leo stammered, speechless. The manager looked like he’d deny everything to his dying breath. I delivered my ultimatum. “Let me tell you something! I’m suing this hotel for attempted murder! You can expect to hear from my lawyer!” I grabbed my phone, pretending to dial my attorney. Leo grabbed my arm, his brow furrowed, but he didn’t say anything. He’s panicking, I thought, a cold smirk playing on my lips internally. Of course, Leo had never told the hotel about my allergy. He’d arranged for those flowers himself. Last time, in that horrific vision, he got away with it because no one questioned why I’d suddenly collapse in the bathroom. Any online comments asking questions were quickly deleted by his paid trolls. Fine. This time, I’d drag his filthy scheme out into the open myself. Plant the seeds of doubt early. “Chloe, look, maybe we should just let it go,” Leo finally mumbled. “You’re okay, right? No harm done.” He tried again, lowering his voice. “Chloe, maybe it was just an oversight by the staff. Let’s be forgiving, okay?” Forgiving?! Like hell. My face hardened. I yanked my arm away. “Leo, what are you saying? Is my life not important to you?!” The guards didn’t understand English, but they saw us arguing again and pointed their phones right at us. Leo hissed at me to keep my voice down. I pretended not to hear, feigning dawning horror. “Leo! Don’t tell me… you didn’t tell them about my allergy?! What were you thinking? What was your plan?!” Just like that, I laid his intentions bare for everyone to see. One of the hotel staff members, who clearly understood English, saw his chance and jumped in. “Miss… uh… Su? Chloe? We truly received no notification about any allergies. Perhaps Mr. Leo forgot in the rush?” Leo, quick on his feet, grabbed the lifeline. He immediately started apologizing profusely, claiming he’d just forgotten, insisting it wasn’t intentional. The hotel eagerly shifted all the blame onto him. I used the opportunity to make a huge scene, then announced I was moving to a different hotel. I needed space. Space away from Leo. Space to plan. Calling the cops now wouldn’t work. Even though I knew what horrors he planned, right now, it was all just in my head, technically. Besides, just sending him to jail – letting him live comfortably behind bars for a decade or so – felt way too easy. If he went to prison, I wanted it to be for life. And before he got caught, I wanted to put on a little show. Let him think everything was within his grasp. Let him have his pipe dream, just before I smashed it. That’s it! A show! Ignoring the fact that it was the middle of the night, I grabbed my phone and made a call… Three I spent the whole night plotting. The sky was just starting to turn gold over the ocean when I finally drifted off. Sleep didn’t last long. Nightmares plagued me, blurring the lines between my visions and reality. I woke up drenched in cold sweat. A sharp ringtone jolted me fully awake. I answered, and the voice on the other end was the same one I’d heard countless times in my nightmares. “Chloe? Are you still mad? I’m so sorry, I really messed up. Where are you? Let me come find you.” A part of me wanted nothing more to do with him. But knowing what he planned – trying to kill me, steal everything I had – made my blood boil. I wanted Leo to lose everything, suffer consequences he truly deserved. “Leo, stop,” I said, my voice deliberately tired. “I’ve been thinking… I can’t get past it. Your debts, what happened last night… Before things get any worse, maybe we should just…” I choked up, took a few deep breaths. “Let’s just call it quits. I’m going home. It’s better this way.” If, just if, Leo could stop now, turn back from the edge, maybe I’d even help him one last time. I admit it, a sliver of that old softness remained. “Chloe! I don’t understand! Why would you suspect me? How could I ever hurt you?! Stop messing around, I’m coming to find you.” Fine. So be it. No more mercy. Ashley, sitting beside me, heard everything. She squeezed my hand, her warmth grounding me. Yes, Ashley had gotten on the first flight out last night after my call. Real friendship beats fake love a thousand times over. I hung up, packed my bags, and Ashley and I headed for the airport. Right at the security checkpoint, Leo intercepted me. “Chloe! Why are you leaving without even talking to me? Are you really going back home over one little mistake?” He immediately put me on the spot, right there in front of everyone bustling through the airport. He already had a minor online following – good looks, flashy designer clothes (bought with my money, of course). He knew people here might recognize him. Sure enough, phones started coming out again. People stared, curious. “Chloe, I admit it, I was distracted planning… planning our engagement!” he declared loudly. “But are you seriously ditching me and flying home just because I forgot to tell the hotel staff about your preferences?” Preferences?! Nice try twisting that one, Leo. Allergy, not preference. His eyes were filled with shame and fury, but his face wore that same mask of wounded devotion. “Chloe, please, just give me one more chance? Don’t go.” And then, believe it or not, he started crying! Right there! The onlookers, clueless, saw this handsome guy shedding tears, and instantly, the tide turned. “Wow, what a bitch.” “Seriously? So dramatic.” “Look at her clothes, though. Rich girls can get away with anything.” He was trying to trap me, paint me as the bad guy. He wanted to keep me here, in Cancun, where it would be easier to… dispose of me. He was terrified of me going back home where he’d lose control. And he had the nerve to stand there playing the heartbroken lover? Suddenly, the image of him turning his back on me in that hellhole, so cold and final, flashed in my mind. Something inside me snapped. SMACK! Right there, in front of dozens of phones and gawking strangers, I hauled off and slapped him. Hard. My chest heaved. Adrenaline and rage wiped my mind blank. For a second, I completely forgot the plan, the reason I’d lured him here. “Chloe, calm down. Stick to the plan,” Ashley’s voice whispered urgently in my Bluetooth earpiece. Right. Snap out of it. Four Fine, Leo. You want to use the crowd against me? Let’s make this public humiliation even bigger. “Leo!” I screamed, staggering back dramatically and collapsing onto the floor, bursting into loud, theatrical sobs. The crowd, which had been murmuring against me, fell silent. Then, even more phones pointed my way. Oh yeah, they smelled blood in the water. They wanted more drama. “You… you manipulative, gambling lowlife!” I shrieked, pointing a trembling finger at him. His expression shifted rapidly from smug confidence to shock, then shame, and finally, pure rage. “You knew! You knew I had allergies! You put those flowers in the bathroom and hid my EpiPen! Do I really need to spell out what you were trying to do?!” The hotel video might not leak, fine. I’d leak it myself, right here, right now. The airport was full of tourists, expats – news travels fast. Gasps rippled through the onlookers. People started pointing at Leo, whispering. “What are you talking about?!” he roared, completely losing it now that he’d been exposed. He clenched his fists and lunged towards me. My screams, mixed with the commotion, brought airport security running. They grabbed Leo and started dragging him away. Seizing the moment, I yelled after him, loud enough for every phone camera to catch it: “Leo, I’ve done everything for you! What more do you want? Did you want me dead before we were even married so you could pay off your gambling debts?!” “Did you hear that? Gambling debts! Is he trying to kill her?” “Isn’t that guy that minor influencer? The thirsty one?” “Yeah! Heard he landed a rich girlfriend! Guess he wants her money now!” “You guys don’t know? That dude’s a notorious gambler back home! Total trash!” Since I was also at the center of the chaos, I got escorted away too, into one of those little airport security rooms. But it was enough. The seeds were planted in the minds of all those potential online witnesses. Before they took me away, I caught Ashley’s eye. She nodded slightly. Then, pulling out her phone, she pretended to be super excited, saying loudly, “Oh my god, gotta upload this video right now! Thirsty influencer tries to murder rich fiancée over gambling debts? This is gonna blow up!” That comment was like tossing a match into dry tinder. The gossip fire ignited instantly. Everyone scrambled to be the first to post their footage, hoping to go viral. Last time, I was too worried about appearances, about “dignity,” about what people would think. I played the composed heiress, and that gambler controlled me completely. This time? I was learning. Sometimes, acting completely crazy is the best way to save yourself.

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