Category: English

My childhood best friend gave me the cold shoulder, intentionally getting closer to the new transfer student. Just then, I saw the floating comments: [The female lead doesn’t know, the male lead is just jealous of her and the school bad boy! Go comfort him, and he’ll come back!] [He just wants you to feel how much it hurts when he sees you with the bad boy.] [Exactly, our female lead is a 36D soft beauty, the male lead loves her to death.] I paused, ready to explain my relationship with the bad boy to my childhood friend. But then I saw him passionately kissing the transfer student. The comments appeared again: [Female lead, just apologize! He’ll come back.] I didn’t interrupt. I turned around and went to tell the teacher, reporting students for dating. 1 Through the floating comments, I learned I was living in a campus romance novel. I am the female lead, and the male lead is my childhood friend, Lucas. He deliberately distanced himself from me and got closer to the transfer student, Chloe, just because he was jealous? I was stunned for a moment, then came to my senses, deciding to explain my relationship with the school bad boy, Damon, to Lucas. That day, I just saw Damon fall and get hurt, so I helped him to the nurse’s office. After school, I saw Lucas heading towards the roof. I jogged up to the roof. When I opened the door. I saw Lucas and Chloe kissing. Lucas slightly lowered his head, letting Chloe hook her arms around his neck and kiss his lips. I froze in place. At this moment, the comments scrolled frantically. [Female lead, don’t misunderstand, the side female character must have seduced him, the male lead just didn’t react in time.] [Kissing for this long and still hasn’t reacted?] [The male lead only did this because he saw the bad boy running to the female lead every day. He just wanted to make her angry.] [Our female lead is a 36D soft beauty, the male lead loves her to death.] [Female lead, just go apologize, won’t the male lead forgive you?] I clenched my fists, my heart aching with a dull pain. I didn’t disturb them, turned around, and left. I went to the homeroom teacher’s office. “Mr. Brown, I just saw two people kissing on the roof.” After saying that, I returned to the classroom to do my cleaning duty. A moment later, Lucas stormed back in. Chloe followed behind him. Lucas walked up to me at some point and snatched the broom from my hand. He looked down at me, his dark eyes revealing a trace of chill: “Did you tell the teacher?” I looked up at him: “So what if I did?” Chloe walked up to me from behind him: “So it was you, Cow? Only you could do something disgusting like tattling.” She linked arms with Lucas, looking at him with a coquettish tone: “I told you, your little childhood friend isn’t anything good. You even scolded me for her before.” After saying that, she huffed. Chloe smiled and looked at my chest: “Cow, why aren’t you wearing your binder today? Who are you trying to seduce?” My temples throbbed with anger. “Cow” was the nickname she gave me. She saw me running in gym class, then got a big group of boys to watch me. They stared at me, laughing. I frowned. Checking myself up and down to see what was so funny. Seeing my panic, they laughed even happier. Lucas suddenly appeared. We were in a cold war then. He hadn’t spoken to me for days. Chloe walked up to him, stood on tiptoe, and whispered something in his ear. He revealed a faint smile. Then he looked at me coldly. Later, the nickname “Cow” spread throughout the class. Even if I wore a binder, whenever I ran, people around me would still laugh and call me Cow. 2 Anger piled up. I lost control and rushed at Chloe. We pulled each other’s hair. Lucas forcefully pulled me away: “Jane, are you crazy? You do something disgusting and still think you’re right?” He clearly protected Chloe, prying my hands from her hair, but Chloe’s hands were still firmly gripping mine. My nose stung, and my body lost strength. Pushed by him, I fell to the ground. Tears welled up in my eyes. But I didn’t want to cry in front of them. So I got up, held back my tears, and walked away quickly. The comments appeared again. [The side female character is so disgusting, and the male lead is protecting her?] [But the female lead started it. The male lead wasn’t protecting anyone, just trying to separate them.] [Did you see how heartbroken the male lead looked when he accidentally pushed the female lead to the ground?] [Exactly, the male lead looked at the female lead’s back with so much pain when she left.] Out of the classroom, tears burst forth. Grievance and anger mixed together. Heart-piercing pain. My mom saw me crying on my way home. She followed me asking what happened. I didn’t answer; I really needed to be alone for a while. I ran back to my room and locked myself in. My mom knocked on the door, then left. I didn’t know how long I cried. I got up and found old photos. I tore up all the photos with Lucas and threw them in the trash. Only this way could I feel a brief relief in my heart. But as I tore them, I suddenly realized that photos with Lucas occupied almost all the photos of my dozen years. My heart twitched with pain again. Lucas wasn’t like this before. My mom and Lucas’s mom were best friends. Our homes were close, so Lucas and I were inseparable growing up. We were in each other’s lives for over a decade. Yet we reached this point. A knock on the door, Lucas’s voice. “Dinner’s ready, come out.” His parents were away Monday to Wednesday, so he ate at my house. I didn’t answer, put on headphones. The comments appeared again. [The male lead just can’t put aside his pride, he’s already showing weakness to you.] [Female lead, just go out and explain to him, he can dump the side character immediately.] [Don’t fight anymore, the male lead has only ever had you in his heart.] [The female lead is so stubborn.] [Sigh, the male lead left in anger.] 3 Next day at school. My mom prepared two breakfasts as usual. I only took one. My mom called me: “You forgot Lucas’s portion.” She handed me the breakfast: “Did you fight with Lucas? You never fought when you were little, why fight now that you’re grown up? Talk it out, everything will be fine.” “Can’t talk it out!” I turned and left. Arriving in class. My seat was next to Lucas. I returned to my seat; Lucas frowned at me, huffed lightly, and turned away. Chloe sat in front of Lucas. She turned around and looked at him: “Cow didn’t bring us breakfast today.” During the cold war before, I still brought breakfast for Lucas every day. But he didn’t eat it; he gave it all to Chloe. Lucas sneered: “Who wants her to bring it? I wouldn’t eat it even if she did.” The comments appeared again. [Male lead, keep being stubborn. Your face fell the moment you saw she didn’t bring breakfast.] [Female lead, give him the breakfast, he’ll be secretly happy.] [Female lead, just apologize, the male lead will ditch the side character immediately.] Why should I apologize? And I didn’t plan on having anything to do with him anymore. I ate my breakfast. Next to me, Lucas suddenly stood up. Loudly. Classmates looked over. Lucas stormed out of the classroom angrily. Seeing this, Chloe jogged after him. They only came back when the bell rang. Chloe’s lips were a bit swollen, her face flushed. Lucas deliberately looked at me, a faint smile curling his lips. He seemed certain I would be jealous. But I wasn’t. Just felt a bit nauseous. Just a week before the cold war. My parents and his parents went on business trips at the same time. He came to stay in our guest room to keep me company. That night, we finished homework and watched TV in the living room. The TV happened to show a kissing scene. I was a bit shy, looking around pretending not to know. He laughed: “It’s just kissing, is it that big a deal?” I looked at him: “Have you kissed?” He looked at me, his dark eyes revealing a burning love. He inherited his parents’ good looks perfectly, quite handsome. “About to kiss.” He suddenly leaned in, gently kissing my lips. Breaths mingled. From clumsy at first to gradually proficient. I was immersed in this sweet and beautiful first kiss. But now. That first kiss that once made my heart race countless times. Made me incredibly nauseous. 4 After school, Damon came to find me again. He held a watermelon juice, handing it to me. I glanced at the juice, then at him: “Anyone falling on the ground at that time, I would have chosen to help them to the nurse’s office. Don’t come looking for me again.” Damon’s beautiful peach blossom eyes dimmed instantly, but fleetingly: “I didn’t come to thank you. I like you, I came to pursue you.” His directness stunned me a bit. I almost fled, walking away quickly, but Damon followed. He didn’t come closer, just followed behind. I didn’t stop until I reached my door, turned to look at him, panting: “Why are you following me?” He extended his hand, holding my bear charm: “You dropped something. I wanted to catch up and return it, but the faster I went, the faster you went.” I was speechless, taking my bear charm: “Couldn’t you call me?” He smiled: “I wanted to see when you’d turn around and acknowledge me.” I glared at him, about to hang the bear back, then realized this charm seemed to be a fourteenth birthday gift from Lucas. I paused, then threw it into the trash can at my door. Looking up, I unexpectedly met Lucas’s dark eyes. He stood at my door, anger radiating from his eyes, cool voice suppressing rage: “Threw it away?” “Yes. Everything of yours, I’m throwing away.” His back teeth clenched tight: “You better not regret it!” Damon chuckled behind me. Lucas looked at Damon, eyes fierce, as if wanting to tear the person in front of him apart. Damon said lazily: “What are you looking at? Want to fight? Come on.” Lucas laughed in anger: “I won’t lower myself to fight someone like you.” Saying that, he looked at me through gritted teeth: “Just you wait.” He turned sideways and left directly between Damon and me. Damon pouted, looking at me with a grin: “If we fought, who would you help?” “I’d help call the police.” As soon as I entered, my mom asked: “Where’s Lucas? Wasn’t he waiting for you at the door?” “Mom, don’t let Lucas come to our house anymore.” My mom froze: “Why? What happened between you two?” My nose stung: “He… he…” I really didn’t know how to express it. My mom patted my head: “Mom knows. You’re grown up, people change. Mom won’t call him over for dinner anymore.” I felt bitter. Lucas became a complete stranger to me. Our relationship deteriorated to a point of no return. The comments scrolled again. [The male lead is about to die of anger. Now he’s at home throwing away all the gifts the female lead gave him.] [The female lead is too cruel, can’t she just apologize?] [When will this fight end? Isn’t this book a sweet childhood friends romance? Not sweet at all!] [Actually, there’s sugar in the glass shards. The male lead just threw away the gift from the female lead, then sheepishly picked it back up and wiped it clean. The male lead really has a sharp tongue but a soft heart.]

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1 To cure me of my possessiveness, my girlfriend replaced me—the groom—on our wedding day. Immediately after the ceremony, she jetted off to the Maldives for a honeymoon with her first love. When she came back, she found a new, more compliant version of me. She would flaunt her intimacy with him, but I no longer showed any signs of jealousy. When she broke all the rules to cast him, a mere social media influencer, as the lead in her new film, I didn’t object. I even handed over my own shot at the Best Actor award without a fight. When he publicly slandered me, I just apologized obediently and silently endured the onslaught of online hate. She bragged about her successful “training” on a live stream, tossing me a cheap ring like a bone to a dog. “Wear this for the rest of your life,” she’d said. “Consider this ring compensation for what happened at the wedding. But as long as you behave, you’ll still be the one I legally marry.” I was genuinely confused. “But… aren’t you already married?” She seemed to have forgotten that the contract termination had already been signed. I had already let her go. In three days, I would be on a plane, heading towards an arranged marriage of my own. From that moment on, our lives would be nothing more than two parallel lines, never to cross again. … My question made her hand freeze. Her expression instantly turned to ice. “What do you mean by that? Don’t you know why I married Adrian? If you hadn’t deliberately flaunted our wedding in his face, driving him to the brink of suicide, do you think I would have married him just to make it up to him?” At our wedding, Adrian had held a knife to his throat, threatening to jump from the roof unless she made him the groom. Afterward, as my punishment, she’d personally taken him on what was supposed to be our honeymoon. I had been a wreck. I drank, I smoked, I stared at the ceiling all night. But now, clarity had finally settled in. The truth was, our relationship had started cracking a year ago, the moment Adrian returned to the country. It began with innocent lunches, then escalated to blatant movie dates, and eventually, nights when she wouldn’t come home at all. Every time I confronted her, she would snap, accusing me of being too possessive. So, to “cure” me, she deliberately grew closer to him. She even told the press that Adrian was the man she had dreamed of for years, and I was just a passing amusement. The wedding was the final, brutal lesson. Adrian was her first love, the one who got away. I could never compete with a ghost. So I decided to give up. On her, and on our ten years together. Faced with her aggressive questioning now, the old me would have desperately tried to explain that I hadn’t flaunted anything, that Adrian had lied to sabotage the wedding. But the new me just obediently took the blame. “You’re right. It was all my fault. I shouldn’t have asked.” It was my fault. My fault for wanting a wedding that was never mine to have. My fault for hoping I held any place in her heart at all. At least I’d learned my lesson before it was too late. My admission seemed to satisfy her. She nodded, pleased. “Well, as long as you understand. Wear this ring. Don’t take it off without my permission. As for the marriage license, we’ll get it next month.” I looked at the plain, cheap ring she held out. It was a freebie she’d gotten when she bought Adrian an outrageously expensive watch. It was worthless. But I obediently slipped it on. As for the marriage license, that would never happen. To me, she was now just the CEO of my agency. In three days, my ten-year contract would expire, and I would leave this life behind for the one my parents had arranged for me. After that, Cassandra and I would be nothing to each other. Seeing me put on the ring, Adrian, who had been standing nearby, grinned. “See, Cassandra? I told you. Men just need a little training. Look how well-behaved Evan is now! He hangs on your every word. The ‘abandoned pet’ effect works every time. He’s completely dependent on you now.” A self-satisfied smile played on Cassandra’s lips. She turned back to me with another order. “The Rising Star Awards are this afternoon. You’ll go with Adrian as his assistant. You have more experience, so make sure you take good care of him.” Even though I had already let her go, the words still twisted in my gut. This was the last award I needed to complete my grand slam, to achieve my lifelong dream of being recognized as one of the greatest actors of my generation. But a few weeks ago, just because Adrian had casually mentioned wanting to be an actor, Cassandra had forced me to give up my nomination for him. And now she wanted me to watch him accept my award, as his assistant. She knew how much this meant to me. And she had snatched it away without a second thought. A dull ache throbbed in my chest, but I agreed. This would be the final act, the closing punctuation on our eight years together. After this, we would owe each other nothing. The awards ceremony was already crowded with the biggest names in the industry. Adrian’s eyes lit up. He grabbed a glass of champagne and tried to schmooze, but the A-listers barely gave him the time of day. After being snubbed several times, his face paled with fury. He turned and snapped at me, his voice loud enough for everyone to hear. “Are you blind? You know I’m allergic to alcohol! Get over here and drink this for me.” He tilted his chin up, trying to reclaim some of the status he’d just lost. I was about to refuse when his expression changed dramatically. His face crumpled as if he were about to cry. “Cassandra,” he whimpered, looking over my shoulder. “You’re not here, and everyone is bullying me. Even Evan is looking down on me.” I turned. Cassandra, the event’s host and a celebrated actress in her own right, was standing right behind me. She was usually protective of my public image, but the look on her face told me that tonight was different. “Evan,” she said, her voice dripping with ice. “I told you to be his assistant. Does that role not include taking a drink for him? Do I need to spell it out for you?” The weight of everyone’s stares was physically painful. I clenched my fists, took the glass, and drained it in one gulp. Cassandra finally looked satisfied. She took Adrian by the arm and began personally introducing him to the industry giants. Suddenly, the crowd was full of fawning voices, and Adrian puffed out his chest like a victorious rooster. A little later, he sauntered over to me. “So what if you’re a famous actor?” he whispered, a smug smile on his face. “You’re still just my little puppet.” He leaned in, then raised his voice for others to hear. “Evan, my shoes are dirty. Be a dear and clean them for me.” I felt my patience fray. He saw my clenched fists and just laughed. “Oh, Evan, I’m so sorry,” he said, his voice oozing false apology. “I didn’t mean to trouble you. It’s just this suit… I can’t risk wrinkling it.” Cassandra chimed in. “He’s right. The suit has to be perfect for the cameras.” She gave me a look that was a clear command. When I didn’t move, her brow furrowed. “Well? Are you going to clean them or not? Don’t forget your place. You’re just an assistant.” Rage simmered beneath my skin. I took a deep breath. Just a few more days. I knelt down and took out a wipe. Just as I was about to touch his shoe, the announcer called his name. Adrian brushed imaginary dust off his lapels, gave a gracious bow to the audience, and then, as he walked past, deliberately stomped on my hand on his way to the stage. Pain shot up my arm. Cassandra just nudged me with her foot. “The speech! Are you an idiot? Get the speech to him!” I scrambled to my feet, my hand throbbing, and rushed after him. As I reached out to hand him the cards, he suddenly stumbled and went tumbling down the stage steps. Cameras flashed wildly. I reached out to help him, but he shoved my hand away, his eyes wide with disbelief. “Evan! I know you’re jealous that I got the award, but I earned it! How could you try to humiliate me in front of everyone like this?” Whispers erupted around us. The cameras turned on me. “I didn’t,” I said calmly. “You pushed me! Everyone saw it!” People nearby started murmuring their agreement. “I didn’t push him,” I tried to explain. “I was handing him the speech.” But no one believed me. Adrian looked up, tears welling in his eyes, but in the split second before he looked away, he shot me a triumphant smirk. I had been framed. His knee was bleeding, but he struggled to his feet, putting on a brave face that earned him the sympathy of the entire room. “I can’t believe Evan would do something so petty,” someone whispered. Cassandra rushed to Adrian’s side. When she saw his bleeding knee, she turned and slapped me hard across the face. “Evan, you’ve gone too far! Look what you’ve done! Don’t you know he has a photoshoot in a few days? How could you be so malicious?” The cameras flashed, capturing my swollen cheek. I wanted to disappear. “Apologize to him right now,” she seethed, “or you’ll regret it.” Adrian looked at me, a smug, victorious glint in his eyes. I took a deep breath and looked straight at Cassandra. “Apologize to a talentless, social media hack? I’d rather not.” I turned and walked away, leaving them both sputtering in rage. Just as they’d planned, I became the villain of the story. The incident was the top trending topic online. Everyone called me bitter and vindictive. Cassandra even used my official account to issue a public apology, cementing the lie. The next day, she called an emergency board meeting. “Due to Evan’s deliberate actions, which have caused significant damage to the company’s reputation, I am revoking his position as Vice President and appointing Adrian in his place.” The board members, men I had personally mentored, all nodded in agreement. “Evan is getting older,” one of them said. “We need fresh blood. I support the change.” Cassandra looked at me, her eyes cold. “The board has voted unanimously. Do you have anything to say?” What could I say? This company was our baby. We had built it from the ashes after her family went bankrupt. And now, they were kicking me out. It didn’t matter. In a few days, I would be gone. “I have nothing to say.” My quiet acceptance seemed to unnerve them. They had been prepared for a fight. Adrian’s first act as VP was to reassign all of my upcoming projects to himself. I was officially suspended. That night, Cassandra came home. She saw me standing on the balcony and for a fleeting moment, I saw a flicker of something like pain in her eyes. She had brought me takeout from a restaurant I’d always wanted to try but could never get a reservation for. The old me would have been thrilled. But I knew her kindness always came at a price. “Adrian really likes your limited edition Bentley,” she said, her voice hesitant. “Could you give it to him? He has a lot of appearances coming up, and it would be more comfortable for him.” The car was the only gift she had ever given me, and only after I’d earned the company a billion dollars on my last film. At the time, she’d called me materialistic for even asking. “Fine,” I said. She frowned. “Why are you acting like a robot? All you do is nod.” I almost laughed. “Isn’t this what you wanted?” She came up behind me and wrapped her arms around my waist. “I know I’ve been hard on you. But once we get our marriage license, I’ll take you on a proper honeymoon. Should we bring Adrian along?” It was the first time she had ever asked for my opinion. “Whatever you want,” I said. Her body stiffened. “I wanted you to be less possessive, not to stop caring completely! If you keep this up, I’m not marrying you!” She stormed out, slamming the door behind her. When I cared, she called me controlling. When I let go, she accused me of not caring. I didn’t see her for the next few days. On the day my contract expired, I went to the office to sign my termination papers. The HR department processed it quickly. All it needed was Cassandra’s final approval. Just as I was about to message her, a text from her came through with an address, telling me to pick her up. It was a remote film set deep in the mountains. I didn’t want to go, but I needed her signature. When I arrived, the place was deserted. Then Adrian appeared, flanked by a group of menacing-looking men. “Where’s Cassandra?” I asked. He smirked, rubbing his neck, revealing a collection of fresh hickeys. “She’s sleeping. Worn out.” The text had been from him. His eyes turned cold. “Everyone’s saying my award was fixed. I bet you’re the one spreading those rumors.” “I don’t need to,” I said. “Anyone with eyes can see you didn’t earn it.” “It doesn’t matter,” he said, waving a hand dismissively. “Because after today, you’ll never be an actor again. And I will take your place.” He gestured to his men. They grabbed me, slamming me to the ground. I managed to kick one of them away, but another one immediately took his place, smashing my head against the concrete until my vision blurred. Adrian loomed over me, planting his foot on my head. “You’re a threat to my career. Cassandra can only protect me so much. The only way I’ll feel truly safe is if you’re completely destroyed.” He pulled out a knife. I realized what he was about to do just as the cold steel sliced across my cheek. I screamed, but they held me down. The tears streaming down my face stung the open wound. One cut. Two. I counted twelve in total. Then he told his men to proceed with the plan. They doused the set in gasoline. As they were leaving, Adrian called Cassandra, his voice a high-pitched, terrified shriek. “Cassandra, help me! Evan is trying to kill me!” He calmly lit a cigarette and tossed the still-lit lighter onto the gasoline-soaked floor. The world exploded in flames. Cassandra arrived just as the fire was engulfing the building. She ran inside, her face a mask of terror. She saw me lying on the floor, my face covered in blood, and for a second, she reached for me. Then Adrian let out a weak cry from the other side of the room. “Cassandra, you’re here! Help me!” She hesitated, then let go of me and ran to him. I watched as she struggled to lift him—he was only pretending to be injured—and carried him out of the inferno. “Help me…” I whispered, my hand outstretched. She paused at the door, a flicker of guilt in her eyes. “I’ve called the fire department, Evan! Just hang on!” Then she was gone. I woke up in the hospital. The only person there was the head of HR. He handed me my signed termination papers and left without a word. I was in the hospital for a month. Cassandra never visited. When I was finally discharged, I went back to my house, the one I had bought years ago with my own money. It had been transformed into a newlywed’s nest for her and Adrian. Red sheets, celebratory banners, and their wedding photos were everywhere. The moment she saw me, her face contorted in a snarl of rage. “How dare you come back here? You tried to kill Adrian! Do you have any idea what you’ve put him through? His depression has relapsed because of you!” She raised her hand to slap me, but stopped when she saw my face. There was no unmarked skin left to hit. Adrian just smirked. “It’s okay, Cassandra. I forgive him. His face is ruined, but he’d make a decent body double. It’s not like they need to show his face.” I looked at his smug, treacherous face, and years of suppressed anger finally boiled over. “A body double for you? I’d rather die.” Cassandra clicked her tongue in annoyance. “Evan, stop being so dramatic. Your face is ruined. What else can you do?” She looked at the horrific scars, and for a split second, I saw that flicker of pain in her eyes again. “Look, I know you’re mad that I didn’t save you from the fire. But it was your own fault for trying to hurt Adrian. You brought this on yourself. But,” she continued, “if you agree to be his body double, I’ll marry you tomorrow. We can even go on a honeymoon. But we’ll have to bring Adrian. I don’t trust him to be alone.” She had it all planned out. But it had nothing to do with me anymore. I held up the termination papers. “You’re already married. You should go on a honeymoon. But why are you inviting me?” “I’m getting married, too. To someone else. And my fiancée is waiting for me abroad.” “Also,” I added, “this is my house. I’ve sold it. You need to leave.”

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After the divorce, I found a diary at home. It was the one Aiden Blackwood had shoved into my hands back in high school. It was filled with trivial little things about my day-to-day life. We were so young then, so perfectly in sync, never imagining that ten years later we’d be tearing each other to shreds. I picked up a pen and wrote: “Carol, don’t fall in love with Aiden Blackwood.” Suddenly, new words bloomed on the page. “Who are you? What gives you the right to say that!” It was the handwriting of seventeen-year-old Aiden. 1 The hand holding the pen hovered in midair, my mind a complete blank. The tears that had been streaming down my face a second ago stopped. A cold wind swept across my tear-streaked cheeks, the icy touch yanking me back to reality. I stared at the diary, my hand trembling as I wrote. “Are you the seventeen-year-old Aiden?” An instant reply. “My name’s Aiden Blackwood, and I don’t change it for anyone. Now what kind of freak are you, and why would you say that!?” Shock and disbelief warred within me. I took several deep breaths before my shaking hand steadied. I wiped my eyes and wrote slowly, deliberately: “You will make her miserable.” He immediately crossed out my words and wrote with absolute certainty: “I will only ever love Carol! I could never hurt her!” Reading those words, I felt a bitter laugh bubble up inside me. “Only love Carol? Is that why, ten years from now, you’ll cheat on her with her best friend?” “Never hurt her? Is that why, ten years from now, you’ll force her into a divorce?” “Aiden Blackwood, stay away from her.” The words that had been furiously appearing on the page finally stopped. I closed the diary and let out a long, shuddering breath. 2 There were once two incredibly important people in my world. One was Lila Miller, my best friend, who transferred to our school in our senior year. At the time, she was living with her grandmother, a woman who made no secret of her preference for grandsons. Lila was withdrawn, introverted, and painfully shy. I was the one who pulled her into my circle, forcibly inserting her into the rest of my life. The other was Aiden Blackwood. To this day, I remember the day after our high school graduation. He stood in the ivy-covered walkway, handed me the diary with a look like he was facing a firing squad, and said, the tips of his ears bright red: “Carol, will you be my girlfriend?” The sun was perfect that day. We were surrounded by a crowd of cheering classmates. Lila was among them, her arm linked with mine, smiling even wider than I was. After that, Aiden and I started dating, and eventually, we got married. It all felt so natural. I truly believed it would be forever. Until the day I saw him at the hospital with Lila for her prenatal check-up. The ginkgo leaves had blanketed the streets in gold that day. Aiden had told me early that morning he was going upstate for a business trip. I, on the other hand, had gone to the hospital on the north side of town for a blood test because of a persistent low-grade fever and nausea. I saw them the moment I walked out of the lab. Aiden, his arm wrapped intimately around Lila’s waist, stood by the entrance to the obstetrics department. A nurse called out, “Lila Miller, 12-week prenatal report.” My brain, fogged by the flu, couldn’t process the overload of information. I even started making excuses for them. When Aiden saw me, he snatched his hand back. Lila quickly hid behind him. “What are you doing here?” he asked. As if I hadn’t told him that very morning I was so sick I had to go to the hospital. I wanted to smile and ask them what was going on, but my lips wouldn’t move. Tears instantly welled up in Lila’s eyes. She said nothing, just clung to Aiden’s hand. I suddenly remembered the earrings—the ones I had given her—that I’d found in our bed a few months ago. I remembered Aiden’s explanation: “She fell asleep while waiting for you.” And Lila’s excuse: “I wanted to surprise you, but I nodded off.” And I, like an idiot, had lived in the web of lies they wove around me. I fought to stay calm, but my voice trembled as I demanded to know when it had started. They didn’t answer. Aiden just shielded Lila, his voice cold and flat. “Carol, don’t make a scene.” A scene? I reached out, trying to pull Lila out from behind him. I wanted to ask her why. I needed an answer. Lila clutched her stomach, struggling and crying out in fear. Aiden grabbed my hand, prying my fingers off Lila’s arm, one by one, his knuckles white with effort. All my pent-up grief and anger exploded in that moment, burning my reason to ash. I raised my hand, blind with rage. But I never touched Lila. Aiden shoved me, hard. I lost my balance and nearly fell to the ground. A crowd gathered around us, just like the day he’d asked me out. Through the ringing in my ears, I finally heard Lila’s sobs. “Carol, I’m so sorry… but we’re really in love… I just want to keep this baby…” My head was spinning, a deafening buzz drowning out everything else. I could barely stand. Aiden carefully helped Lila up, then turned to me, his voice calm. “Just look at the state you’re in.” “Carol, what do you have that she doesn’t?” I stared at him, watching him protect another woman. The fire inside me suddenly went out, leaving only a cold, dead emptiness. The sun began to set, the sky darkening around us. Looking at the closed diary, I subconsciously rested a hand on my stomach. There was a baby here. A baby I had been so excited for. Aiden’s baby. I had imagined his reaction to the news a thousand times. But on the day it was finally real, he was celebrating another child. 3 I tossed the diary into a corner of my desk, determined not to touch it again. But the next day, my chunky ginger cat knocked it to the floor. I meant to just put it back, but once it was in my hands, I opened it, as if compelled by some unseen force. In just one day, the pages were filled with blue ink. After all the frantic arguments, there was a new, determined line: “I’ll prove it to you!” From that point on, the diary became a chronicle of Aiden’s day-to-day courtship. He wrote about the mechanical pencil we’d traded ten years ago, the carton of strawberry milk he’d secretly left in my desk, the smiles I had given him over the years. Every line overflowed with a joy he couldn’t contain, as if his entire world was filled with ‘Carol’. A decade of memories flooded back with his words, a tight knot forming in my chest. I grabbed a pen and, with a kind of self-destructive malice, refuted every single one. The other side was silent for a long time before new words appeared. “You’re not her. How would you know?” I gripped the pen, my knuckles white. The words “I am Carol” refused to form on the page. Frustrated, I decided to disguise myself as a ‘System’, even revealing a few of his well-kept secrets to sell the act. He was stunned. After a long pause, he asked in a pleading tone: “So… Mr. System, can you tell me what flavor of milk Carol likes?” Looking at his cautious question, I suddenly understood. In this diary, I didn’t have to be the 27-year-old Carol. I could set aside my current pain and bitterness. I just had to be an observer called the ‘System’, watching his secret crush unfold from a god’s-eye view. And just like that, I became seventeen-year-old Aiden’s “Dating System.” Every day was filled with endless happy things to say and see. Opening the diary became the thing I looked forward to most. Until one day, he suddenly told me: “System, I just told Carol about you, and she doesn’t believe me!” The moment the last stroke of his writing appeared, a strange yet familiar memory surfaced in my mind. Sophomore year, Aiden had run up to me, his eyes wide with conspiracy. “I found a diary that lets me talk to a ‘System from the future’.” My fingers traced the words in the diary. I clung to them like a lifeline. An idea began to grow wildly in my mind—this diary could change the past! If it could really change the past, couldn’t it change this miserable present? What if I had never approached Lila? What if we had never become friends? Would Aiden still be the same boy from seventeen, who loved me and only me? Would our child still have a father who loved him? The hand holding the pen trembled uncontrollably. There was only one thought in my head: I had to test it. “There’s a hair clip shaped like a ginkgo leaf at the corner store. Carol really likes it.” I scribbled the words, the pen tip tearing the paper. “Tell her to keep it safe.” Almost instantly, the ginkgo leaf hair clip appeared on my desk. A large blank space appeared in the diary. One memory began to fade rapidly as a new, vivid one rushed in to take its place. A sunny afternoon. Aiden, drenched in sweat, ran up to me, holding the hair clip, his eyes shining. He said, “This! You have to keep it safe!” I slumped over my desk, laughing and crying at the same time. There was still time. Everything could still be fixed. 4 I started conducting more dangerous experiments. I had the Aiden from ten years ago give me small, insignificant things. A bag of fruit-flavored hard candies appeared in the early summer of my sophomore year. A small eraser, carved into the shape of a cat, lay in my pencil case during midterms that fall. Using my own memories as anchors, I began to map out the rules of time and space governed by this diary. My life, however, remained exactly the same. As the time in the diary approached the end of my sophomore year, the final week of my real-life divorce cooling-off period began. I looked at the pregnancy test report on my desk and finally sent Aiden a message: “Saturday, 2 PM. The usual café. We need to talk.” He replied with a curt, “Okay.” I stared at his profile picture. The photo I had taken of ginkgo leaves was gone, replaced by a stretched-out silhouette of him and Lila leaning against each other. In the diary, an oblivious seventeen-year-old Aiden was still writing excitedly: “Carol came to watch my game today! She even remembered to bring me water! Do you think she might like me a little bit too?” I silently closed the chat window. On Saturday, a light rain began to fall. I sat in our usual spot and opened the diary to chat with the eighteen-year-old Aiden. “System, I had a dream last night that Carol and I had a baby! I was so happy! I hope it’s a girl, so she can look just like her, with dimples when she smiles. But a boy would be fine too…” Reading his words, I touched my stomach and couldn’t help but smile. The real Aiden was half an hour late. When he arrived, he looked tired and annoyed. “What…?” He didn’t finish his sentence. His eyes locked onto the diary in my hands, and he even reached for it. I quickly put the diary in my bag and took out the pregnancy report, pushing it towards him. “I thought you should know about this.” His gaze was still fixed on my bag as he distractedly took the report. “Aiden!” Lila burst out of nowhere, snatched the report from his hand, and tore it to shreds. She was wearing the loungewear I’d given her last year, her belly swollen. The rain had plastered her hair to her face, making her look like an abandoned victim. “You promised you wouldn’t see her again!” she screamed, crying. Aiden immediately stood up to comfort her, not even bothering to look at what I had given him. But Lila kept crying, her sobs wracking her body. She pointed an accusing finger at me. “Carol, you have everything… a perfect family, a perfect life… What about me? My family said I was useless! A disgrace!” Her voice suddenly rose to a shriek. “Aiden was the first person to ever tell me, ‘I’ll protect you.’ You already have so much, why can’t you just let me have him?!” The commotion drew the attention of everyone in the café. I could hear their whispers. Then, as if she’d gone mad, she ran to the edge of the café’s balcony and yelled at me. “Carol! Promise me! Promise you’ll never see him again for the rest of your life! Or I’ll jump!” Everyone was looking at me, including Aiden. “Carol,” Aiden said, “talk her down. Isn’t she your best friend?” Someone in the crowd muttered, “Wow, the mistress is actually pushing the wife to this…” A profound sense of absurdity washed over me. “You want me, your legal wife, to go and talk down your mistress?” I tried to keep my voice steady, but it broke on the last word. Seeing that I wasn’t moving, Lila scrambled onto the railing, half her body hanging over the edge. We were on the second floor. Aiden grabbed my arm and started dragging me violently towards the balcony. I struggled, but I couldn’t break free. His voice was hoarse. “Just this once. I’m begging you. Get Lila back over here and tell her to her face that we’ll never see each other again!” But as he pushed me closer, Lila suddenly reached out and yanked me forward with all her strength. Caught off guard, my stomach slammed hard against the balcony railing. She seemed to be cursing at me, but I couldn’t hear a thing. An excruciating pain overwhelmed everything. I collapsed, curling into a ball on the ground. In my peripheral vision, I saw Aiden pull Lila back into his arms, frantically checking if she was hurt. “Blood!” someone in the crowd shrieked. I looked down. Blood was seeping from between my legs, staining my clothes. Aiden looked over, his face instantly turning a deathly white. I remembered then. I had come here today to tell Aiden. We were having a baby. 5 I sat on the hospital bed, staring out the window. The feeling of being hollowed out and the physical pain were a constant reminder. The baby was gone. The ginkgo leaves outside the window glistened in the rain. I remembered junior year, when Aiden had stood under that huge ginkgo tree, holding up two leaves to make a golden “leaf butterfly” to make me smile. He had said, “I swear, I’ll never make Carol cry again!” But the Aiden standing at the foot of my bed now just looked exhausted. “Lila has been emotionally unstable since she got pregnant. Her grandmother found out she was pregnant out of wedlock and called her a disgrace, wouldn’t even let her in the house… Don’t blame her…” A massive, heavy weight of grief crushed my chest, making it hard to breathe. I grabbed my bag and threw it at him with all my might. “She killed my baby! She’s a murderer!” He didn’t move, letting the bag hit him squarely, its contents spilling onto the floor. Including the diary. The other people in the room had quietly slipped out. In the dead silence, he picked up the diary and asked softly, “Are you the System?” I froze. The grief and rage were pushed aside, replaced by a dizzying mix of shock and disbelief. I suddenly realized that Aiden was the one who had truly lived through this diary.

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I was in the middle of using a… personal device when the boy next door suddenly barged in. I awkwardly pulled the covers over my head, thinking he wouldn’t see me, but then a hand reached under my blanket. 1 Ethan was two years older than me. We lived next door to each other and had been childhood friends since we were toddlers. But I never imagined there would come a day when he would catch me hiding under the covers, playing with a vibrating toy that should never see the light of day. I didn’t even know he was coming over. It wasn’t until my bedroom door clicked open and his tall figure appeared in the doorway that the blood rushed to my head. “Ah—!” I let out a short scream, my mind going blank. My only instinct was to yank the duvet over my head, covering myself completely. Doomed! Social death! I held my breath, praying he was just here to borrow a book or that my mom had sent him to call me for dinner, and that he would leave in the next second. Silence outside the duvet. However, the expected sound of the door closing didn’t come. Instead, steady footsteps approached my bed, step by step. My heart beat so fast it felt like it would jump out of my throat. Then, a warm, dry hand reached into my blanket without warning! “!” My whole body went rigid, toes curling against the sheets. I felt like I was going to faint from lack of oxygen. That hand had a clear target. It brushed precisely past my thigh and touched the little thing that was still vibrating slightly. Fingertips seemed to graze the skin of my thigh, sending a fatal shiver through me. Then, he deftly removed it, and the vibration stopped abruptly. Ethan’s low, calm voice came from outside the duvet: “Lily, why are you hiding under the covers? Your mom asked me to call you for dinner.” He paused. I could even imagine him examining the object in his hand. Then, his voice sounded with a hint of imperceptible amusement: “What is this?” My brain buzzed. In a moment of desperation, I shouted through the blanket in a muffled voice: “M-massage stick! My calf is cramping!” Yes, a massage stick. Perfect excuse! I’m a genius! It was quiet outside for a moment. He seemed to be judging the authenticity of this statement. Then, he gently tugged at the corner of my blanket, his tone unreadable: “Come out and eat. Or… do you need me to help you ‘massage’?” That sentence shot through my spine like an electric current. I clutched the duvet tightly, exposing only a pair of burning eyes, daring not look at him. Ethan stood by the bed, tall and straight, holding the “massage stick” in his hand, looking as composed as if he were examining a common tool. “I… I can do it myself.” My cheeks burned like fried eggs, my voice as small as a mosquito’s hum. He looked at me, a faint smile seemingly flitting across his deep eyes, so fast I thought it was an illusion. He didn’t continue the dangerous topic. Instead, he naturally and calmly put the little thing into his own pocket. “Your mom wants you downstairs for dinner,” he repeated, his gaze sweeping over my still-flushed face. He added flatly, “Lock the door next time you ‘massage’.” With that, he didn’t stay any longer. He turned and left my room, even thoughtfully closing the door behind him. I was left alone in the room with a heart about to explode. He took it?! Why did he take my stuff! And… and put it in his own pocket! That thing… it might still have… I dared not think further, burying my burning face deep in my knees. Ethan… what does he mean? 2 I spent ten minutes mentally preparing myself in my room before dawdling downstairs for dinner. At the dining table, my mom was enthusiastically serving Ethan food. “Ethan, eat more. If only Lily were as sensible as you, I’d worry less.” Ethan smiled politely. “You’re too kind, Auntie. Lily is great.” He looked completely at ease, as if the dominant and ambiguous man in my room just now was a hallucination. This realization made my ears hot, and I buried my head even lower. My mom, oblivious, continued to chatter: “Ethan, you’re an orthopedist, right? Lily’s been complaining about shoulder and neck pain from painting lately. She won’t go to the hospital. You should talk to her!” Ethan put down his chopsticks, his gaze seemingly inadvertently falling on me. His look was calm, yet it made me feel like I was sitting on pins and needles. The corners of his lips curved slightly, his tone warm and concerned: “Is that so? If your shoulder hurts…” He paused before continuing leisurely, “Just using a ‘massage stick’ for local massage might not be effective enough.” “Pfft—cough! Cough cough!” I choked on my rice, my whole face turning explosive red instantly. My mom quickly patted my back. “Child, why eat so fast!” She turned back to Ethan: “Exactly! I offered to buy her a neck massager, but she refused, saying she didn’t need it.” The smile in Ethan’s eyes deepened. He looked at me meaningfully. “Mm, Lily… does have her own ‘methods’ for relief. However, the tools might not be professional enough. Next time you’re uncomfortable, just tell me directly.” Every word was normal, but combined, they were like bombs dropping in my ears! What was he hinting at? How much did he know?! This meal was torture. Every second was suffering. He chatted naturally with my parents, occasionally steering the topic to me, each time precisely stepping on my nerve of shame. When he finally got up to leave, I almost collapsed in my chair, feeling like I had fought a tough battle. 3 That night, I lay in bed tossing and turning. The events of the day and Ethan’s meaningful words replayed in my mind. Shame, confusion, and an indescribable throb entangled together. Compelled by some mysterious force, I grabbed my phone, opened an anonymous forum, and typed a post with trembling fingers: [Confession] My neighbor brother, who is a doctor, caught me using a “massage stick”! He didn’t expose me then and even confiscated the toy, but he kept teasing me with words at the dinner table. I’m dying!!! Online waiting, urgent!!! Not long after the post went up, notifications started pinging. A skyscraper of replies built up instantly. “First! Waiting for updates!” “Wait, sister, the point is the massage stick. Why didn’t you dodge when he reached for it? That move itself is wild!” “Upstairs +1. And he mentioned it at dinner? He’s definitely doing it on purpose! It’s too easy for a doctor to verify if you really had a cramp. He’s just teasing you! Enjoying your panic. This guy has high-level game!” “Just imagining it makes my toes curl… but honestly, why do I ship it? Calm and restrained neighbor brother VS socially dead childhood sweetheart. This plot is bestseller material!” “Suggest OP play along! Next time he mentions it, flirt back. Like, ‘The effect is indeed mediocre. Do you have a better recommendation, brother?’” Reading these replies, the heat on my face rose again. These netizens have sharp eyes! Their words were like keys trying to pry open my closed heart. Just then, a reply quickly upvoted to the top jumped out. Sharp and to the point: “What are you afraid of? He’s clearly interested in you. Men know men’s games best. Attack directly. Just ask him: ‘Brother, you took my stuff… do you want to demonstrate how to use it personally?’ Guaranteed he’ll be more flustered than you.” “Boom—” I felt all the blood rush to my head. This reply… too bold, too naked! It was like stripping my guilt and secret expectations bare under the sun. But a voice deep inside screamed: They’re right! Ethan’s behavior can’t be explained by just being a “brother”! With trembling fingers, I liked that reply, as if injecting myself with a bit of lonely courage. 4 The reply “Attack directly” planted a seed of rebellion in my heart, growing wildly overnight. The next day, I was restless all day. Holding a paintbrush, the lines I drew were messy. My mind was full of Ethan’s calm face and that bold reply. Courage comes and goes quickly. By evening, that bit of courage was drowned by anxiety. I rolled around on the bed hugging my pillow, wanting to retreat countless times. But thinking of his ease at the dinner table, as if everything was under his control, a refusal to admit defeat bubbled up again. Why am I the only one in chaos? Taking a deep breath, I jumped out of bed, changed out of my pajamas into a decent T-shirt and shorts, took a few deep breaths in front of the mirror, and then opened the door like I was marching to my death. The hallway was quiet. I stood at his door, raising and lowering my hand repeatedly, my heart beating like a rabbit. Finally, I closed my eyes, steeled my heart, and rang the doorbell. Footsteps approached from inside, and the door opened. Ethan stood at the door. He seemed to have just showered, his black hair wet, a few strands hanging unruly on his forehead, less rigorous than during the day, more lazy and domestic. He wore a simple gray cotton T-shirt and lounge pants, smelling of fresh body wash. Seeing me, a clear surprise flashed in his eyes, quickly returning to calm. He stepped aside: “Lily? What’s up?” “I… I came to get my stuff.” I tried to make my voice sound righteous, but a slight tremor betrayed me. “Stuff?” He raised an eyebrow, as if not reacting. “It’s… what you took from me yesterday… that, massage stick.” The last two words were almost mumbled in my throat, my cheeks heating up uncontrollably. He realized, the corner of his lips seeming to curve. He turned to walk inside: “Come in. Close the door.” I followed him into the study. This was the corner of his house I was most familiar with. Walls full of books, a neat desk, the air filled with the faint scent of books and his clean aura. He walked behind the desk but didn’t open the drawer immediately. Instead, he leaned leisurely against the edge of the desk, arms crossed, looking at me. “Why the sudden rush to get it back?” he asked, eyes calm, like inquiring about an illness. “Cramping again?” Nowhere to hide under his gaze, I bit the bullet and followed my drafted script: “No! Just… just felt that it’s my personal item. It’s inappropriate to leave it with you.” “Oh?” He dragged out the syllable, suddenly taking two steps closer to me. His tall figure brought invisible pressure. I instinctively stepped back, but my calves hit the edge of the soft sofa, and I fell onto it. He leaned over, hands propping on the back of the sofa on either side of me, completely enveloping me in his shadow. The fresh scent after a bath mixed with strong male hormones dominantly occupied all my senses. “Where is it inappropriate?” He lowered his head, gaze locking onto me, voice low and bewitching. “I’m a doctor. Helping you verify the compliance of a ‘medical device,’ isn’t that just right?” His face was very close. I could clearly see his long eyelashes and the deep darkness in his eyes. My heart was about to jump out of my throat. That sentence from the forum spammed my brain. Go for it! I looked up, meeting his gaze, trying not to let my voice tremble: “Brother, you took it… Could it be, you want to demonstrate personally… the correct way to use it?” The moment the words fell, the muscles in Ethan’s arms propped on the sofa seemed to tighten. The calm deep sea in his eyes suddenly surged with huge waves. Something strongly suppressed and highly aggressive broke through the ice. He stared at me, a look that seemed ready to devour me. The room was quiet, leaving only my heart beating like a drum and his gradually deepening breathing. Suddenly, he laughed. Not his usual gentle, faint smile, but one with a hint of roguishness, control, and amusement. “Lily Lin,” he called my full name, voice terribly hoarse and burning hot. “Do you know the consequences of provoking a doctor?” Before I could react, he pinched my chin, applying slight pressure with his thumb. “Close your eyes.” A commanding tone, unquestionable. Like under a spell, my eyelashes trembled, and I obediently closed my eyes. The next second, burning, soft lips pressed down with irresistible force, completely sealing my breath and thoughts.

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I am the most hated woman on the internet, a singer who supposedly “trapped” a billionaire into marriage. Invisible drone cameras are currently livestreaming every corner of my home, and I have absolutely no idea. On screen, Liam Sterling walks up to me and asks coldly, “Are you playing games again?” The haters in the chat are gloating. “Chloe finally has to drop the act. She’s been clinging to Mr. Sterling for clout, but now we’ll see the truth!” Even my in-laws and sister-in-law are watching with cold indifference. “If Liam really dislikes her that much, they shouldn’t force it anymore.” But then, the woman known to the public as gentle, submissive, and desperate for love—me—impatiently pushes Liam’s handsome face away. “What is wrong with you? Get away from me.” Liam, the icy, untouchable CEO, suddenly looks… pouted? “Do you find me annoying?” 1 The day I married into the Sterling family, the internet tore me apart. “What happened? My favorite ship just sank!” “Chloe has no shame. She knew Liam had a thing for Bella, but she seduced him anyway. I can’t believe she actually became Mrs. Sterling!” My husband, Liam Sterling, and the famous actress Bella Hart were childhood friends. He invested in her movies, punched producers who tried to creep on her, and showed up to support her on talk shows. The Billionaire and the Sweetheart. They were the Nation’s Couple. Until I, the “scheming villain,” ruined everything. In interviews, Bella would force a smile and say, “Liam and his wife are a good match,” before turning away with teary eyes. The internet wept for her and cursed me. Even my in-laws hated me. That part wasn’t wrong. Liam’s parents were cold at the wedding, and his sister, Harper, never called me “Sister-in-law”—she just spat out my name, “Chloe.” The trending topic #WhenWillChloeDivorce was a permanent fixture on social media. I didn’t really care. Liam and I weren’t madly in love, but we weren’t enemies. I had unlimited money and a handsome husband to sleep with. Life was good. Who cared what strangers thought? But I didn’t realize how much the family wanted to expose me. Sterling Tech had just developed a micro-drone camera with AI tracking and privacy filters. To promote it, the PR department volunteered their CEO. The invisible camera was set to track Liam Sterling’s daily life, broadcasting it to the world. And nobody told me. So there I was, wearing messy pajamas, sprawled on the sofa like a starfish, completely unaware that the show had already begun. 2 “Shouldn’t we tell Chloe? What if she says something crazy?” Harper pouted, watching the stream on her tablet. On screen, Liam was leaning back in his car, eyes closed, looking exhausted. He had hosted a press conference all morning and was now doing this livestream stunt. But his silence didn’t dampen the audience’s enthusiasm. “The most hardcore brand ambassador ever—CEO Sterling!” “This is way better than watching reality TV stars.” “Speaking of stars, will Chloe show up?” “Ugh, don’t mention her. Bad luck.” “Every time I see her fake innocent face, I feel sick for Bella.” “Don’t worry, guys. Livestreams are the ultimate lie detectors. Just wait for her mask to slip.” Mrs. Sterling glanced at the nasty comments and said calmly, “Chloe is a singer, not an actress. She can’t fake natural interactions. If she tries, people will think the stream is scripted, which hurts the product.” “Besides, your brother knows what he’s doing.” Harper huffed. “I still don’t get why he married her.” The room went silent. They viewed this livestream as a test. It would reveal the “real” marriage. If it was as bad as they thought, they would finally intervene and suggest a divorce. Meanwhile, I was wearing yellow bear-print pajamas, my hair clipped up in a chaotic bun, buried in a beanbag chair, doom-scrolling. I didn’t even notice Liam walking in. He took off his tie, got a glass of water, and paced back and forth in front of me three times. I saw him out of the corner of my eye, but I was in the middle of a boss fight. Not now, Liam. Seeing no reaction, he marched up to me. His face was tight, his voice frosty. “Are you playing games again?” The comments exploded. “See? He’s mad! He worked all day and she doesn’t even say hello. Gold digger behavior.” “Cold home, cold husband. Welcome to Chloe’s tragedy.” “She deserves it. She broke up the golden couple.” They waited for me to jump up and apologize, playing the submissive wife role I usually projected. Instead, I frowned, annoyed, and swatted his face away like a fly. “What is wrong with you? Move. You’re blocking my screen.” Liam’s eyes widened slightly. His cold mask cracked, revealing a puppy-dog level of grievance. “Do you find me annoying?” For ten seconds, the chat was completely blank. Harper dropped her phone. “Am I hallucinating? Is my brother… whining?” 3 Hearing the hurt in his voice, I finally looked up from my game. He was leaning over me, his hand bracing against the back of the sofa, staring at me intensely. I poked his arm. Rigid. He was doing that thing again. Sulking. It had always been like this. If I ignored him for too long, he’d trap me in his arms, refuse to speak, and refuse to let me leave. He would stare at me with those intense eyes, stubborn as a mule. But he was easy to fix. A hug, or a kiss. Then he’d secretly smirk and go back to being the cool, collected CEO. I suspect it was his upbringing. As the heir, his parents demanded perfection. He was the quintessential “Strongman”—stoic on the outside, a total mess of emotions on the inside. I sighed, put down my phone, and wrapped my arms around his neck. I kissed him softly near his ear and whispered, “Of course not. Hubby is the best.” Liam’s ears turned bright red. He buried his face in my neck, inhaling deeply, hugging me so tight it almost hurt. After a moment, he straightened up, then suddenly froze. The comments were in chaos. “What is happening? Is he… blushing?” “Is this how they usually are? I don’t believe it. It’s an act!” “Definitely scripted! Remember when he told her to shut up on that variety show?” “But… look at his ears. You can’t fake that shade of red.” 4 The internet was lamenting the fall of a titan. The stoic CEO was acting like a clingy teenager. Harper couldn’t process it. Her brother was dignity personified. He wouldn’t degrade himself like this for a marketing stunt. She stared at the screen, then pointed a trembling finger. “Did… did we hire a lookalike?” Mr. and Mrs. Sterling were equally stunned. In the video, their serious, mature son was nuzzling into Chloe’s neck. Their brains short-circuited. Meanwhile, the haters were trying to cope. “It makes me sick. How can a woman who used dirty tricks to get him live so happily?” “I feel so bad for Bella. She was replaced by this.” “Wait, why are we bringing up Bella? Chloe is the actual wife.” “Heh, Chloe isn’t worth one of Bella’s fingernails.”

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1 Five years into our marriage, I told Caleb Cross I wanted a divorce. “Is this just because I gave the promotion to her instead of you?” he asked, his brow furrowed. But his attention was already back on the phone, his voice dropping to a murmur to soothe Leah Jones on the other end. “Yes,” I said. “Fine.” Without a second glance, he scrawled his name on the divorce papers I’d placed in front of him. “Let’s see how many days you last before you come crawling back.” From college sweethearts to husband and wife, we had been each other’s first and everything. He was so sure I couldn’t live without him. But I was done. The job, the promotion… that was his last chance. It wasn’t like I was desperate for a position. An offer from a top-three tech firm in the States was sitting in my inbox, a world away from his reach. I accepted it. From now on, we were strangers. The slate was wiped clean. … Caleb hung up the phone, his eyes betraying nothing. A chill crept over my heart. He lifted his gaze, his expression lazy, bored. “Stella Vance, you have zero work experience. You won’t survive a day without me.” I shook my head. “Don’t forget, I graduated from the same top university you did. I’ll find my own way to survive.” “Suit yourself,” he said, signing his name with a flourish. “Just don’t drag this out. Mom’s still at the hospital, and she’s expecting you.” I didn’t answer. I just folded the papers, ready to leave, when our housekeeper showed Leah Jones in. She was dressed in a sharp power suit, her red lipstick a slash of professional confidence. “Mr. Cross, I had a few more thoughts on the proposal you recommended me for. I was hoping to run them by you.” Caleb’s eyebrow arched as he glanced at me. In the past, I would have been the one to throw her out, then slap another set of divorce papers on his desk. I’d done it ninety-nine times. But this was the hundredth. And this time, there would be no more games. A flicker of something—triumph?—crossed Leah’s eyes. “Oh, Mrs. Cross, please don’t misunderstand. I’m just here to discuss work. It’s all terribly boring stuff. Perhaps you could wait outside until we’re finished?” I moved past her, heading for the door, but her voice followed me, a stage whisper meant for me to hear. “You know, for someone who can’t help with the business, you’d think she’d be more understanding of how busy Mr. Cross is. You’ve really spoiled her.” My fists clenched. I spun around. “And who the hell are you to him? Did you not see we were having a private conversation? Or do you just make a habit of showing up at your boss’s house on a weekend to ‘sync up’? What’s the rush? Got a deadline with the devil? Have your parents ever heard of the word ‘boundaries’?” Leah’s lip trembled, her eyes instantly welling with tears. She actually clutched her files and made a show of turning to leave. “That’s enough!” Caleb snapped, grabbing her arm to pull her back. His glare was fixed on me. “Leah is right. She was just sticking up for me. Can’t you, for once, not assume the worst in people?” The study fell into a dead silence. Watching them, his hand still on her arm, a bitter laugh escaped me. What a joke. This marriage was a joke. These people were a joke. Every second I stayed here was another second of my life wasted. 2 I spent the night at my best friend’s place. In the dead of night, my phone buzzed. It was a screenshot of a social media post, sent from Leah’s account. The caption read: “Burning the midnight oil! Nothing like a late-night coffee to power through. So grateful for a boss who believes in me. I mean, who else gets to work side-by-side with their amazing boss until the early hours? #Blessed #BestBossEver” The background was unmistakably Caleb’s study. If you looked closely at the reflection in the window, you could see their silhouettes sitting together, their bodies nearly touching. Just then, my friend rushed in, shoving her phone in my face. It was a text from Caleb. “Are you done being mad? Come home. We can talk about that new position.” A cold, humorless laugh escaped my lips. That “new position” was just another empty promise, another delay tactic. It wasn’t the first time he’d apologized to me right after spending an evening with Leah. It was his classic move: a slap, then a rotten piece of candy. It wasn’t always like this. Back in college, when I wanted to enter a major coding competition, he gave up his own spot just so I could have it. My friend came out of the shower to find me staring blankly at my phone, my eyes red. “Second thoughts?” I shook my head, my throat tight. “If you’re not ready, then wait,” she said softly. “You two have been through so much. You can’t just throw it all away. Besides, you haven’t hit your one hundred times yet…” “We have.” She froze. “What?” “One hundred times,” I said, taking a deep breath and forcing the tears back. “It’s done.” “I accepted the offer from the tech firm in the States. I haven’t been idle all these years, you know. I’ve been managing investment funds online, building my portfolio. My resume is solid. They offered me a senior position with a great salary. It’s a huge opportunity.” “Are you sure? What did Caleb say? You two were so in love.” My voice was steady when I replied. “Yes. We fell in love because we saw the light in each other. But after we got married, that light went out. I lost myself. A love like that… there’s no point in trying to keep it alive.” My friend wrapped me in a hug, her eyes shining with pride. “If you’ve made up your mind, then do it. But you should still go to the Cross Corp gala tomorrow. Don’t let Caleb suspect anything’s different.” The next morning, I drove to the venue. I was planning to find a quiet corner and disappear, but then I heard my name. “I hear the wife throws a fit and threatens divorce all the time. Can you believe it? How does a guy like Caleb, a total catch, end up with such a petty, dramatic woman?” “It’s gotta be the sex, right? I’ve seen her type before. I’ll bet you anything he gets tired of her within six months and dumps her… oh, Mr. Cross.” The two men who had been talking froze, their faces pale as Caleb approached. Jake, the trust-fund brat who always trailed Caleb, just chuckled and raised his glass. “See? Everyone thinks you’re headed for divorce. Tell you what, I’ll put my money on three months.” Caleb’s gaze slid away from the gossiping men, and he took a slow, deliberate sip of his champagne. “She’s just high-maintenance,” he said with a weary sigh. “What can you do but spoil her?” He shook his head as if burdened by the world’s greatest tragedy. “Married women… they get worked up over the smallest things.” “Speaking of which,” Jake pressed, “you and Leah Jones have been getting pretty close. She’s smart, ambitious, and she’s actually good for your business. You sure you’re not considering an upgrade?” 3 Caleb didn’t answer, his silence a tacit agreement with Jake’s assessment. My back was to them. I downed the rest of my wine in one swallow, the liquid burning a path down my throat, and walked away. My chest ached. As I searched for a glass of water, a familiar voice stopped me. “Mrs. Cross?” I looked up into the shrewd, gleaming eyes of the man before me and frowned. “What are you doing here?” “I should be thanking you, Mrs. Cross,” Mr. Warren said, his tone dripping with provocation. “For so graciously handing over the Ridgewood property. I do wonder if your father will roll over in his grave.” “Don’t be ridiculous. That property belongs to Cross Corp.” Before I could say more, Leah strode up, her chin held high. “I’m the one who signed the property over to Mr. Warren. Is there a problem, Mrs. Cross?” “Who gave you the authority to do that?” I snapped. “There’s no need to be so aggressive. It was just a useless plot of land. If selling it benefits Cross Corp, what’s the issue?” She shot me a dismissive look. “Besides, you wouldn’t understand this stuff anyway. Why don’t you stick to being a housewife? We wouldn’t want you to interfere and upset our clients, would we?” “Caleb would never have approved this,” I said through gritted teeth, forcing myself to stay calm. “You did this on your own, didn’t you?” “So what if I did?” Leah’s face flushed. “Mr. Cross made me an executive. He said he trusts my judgment.” “Does he?” I let out a cold laugh. “Then I dare you to tell him you went behind his back and sold that land.” “Leah, he gave you authority to execute, not to sign contracts unilaterally without board approval. Do you know how illegal that is? How do you plan on compensating the company for this mess?” The crowd around us began to murmur, their gazes shifting to Leah with scorn. She bit her lip, her expression one of profound injury, yet she stood her ground. “You can insult me, but you can’t insult my contributions to this company! Don’t think you can bully me just because you’re the boss’s wife. Even if Mr. Cross finds out I sold the land, he’ll praise me for my initiative. You can check the latest performance reports if you don’t believe me. So please, stop making baseless accusations!” “What’s going on here?” Caleb’s voice cut through the tension. He arrived just in time to see Leah turn away, dabbing at her eyes. His tone hardened. “Stella, explain yourself.” My face was a mask of indifference. I met his gaze. “She sold the Ridgewood property to Mr. Warren. Did you know about this?” Leah immediately looked to Caleb, her voice laced with panic. “Mr. Cross, I was only thinking of the company! But as soon as Mrs. Cross heard I made a profit, she started yelling at me, even threatened to call the police.” She added, with a veneer of magnanimity, “I know she doesn’t have much experience with the real world, so if she would just apologize, I’m willing to overlook it.” Caleb’s frown deepened with every word. For a split second, he actually looked flustered. “The land sale… it was a special circumstance.” My heart sank. “Are you telling me to drop it? Or are you just afraid she’ll get in trouble if this blows up?” He pursed his lips and reached for my hand. “Of course not. As her boss, I apologize on her behalf. Are you feeling better now?” “CALEB! MY FATHER GAVE HIS LIFE FOR THAT LAND!” I ripped my hand away, my voice a raw scream as I pointed at Leah. “If she doesn’t get that land back today, I swear I will make her life a living hell!” “ENOUGH!” Caleb roared. “It’s signed. What’s done is done. Why are you clinging to the past?” “I’ll cover the loss for her. I’ll give you the money myself. I can see you’ve been on edge lately. Take the money, go on a vacation, and cool off. When you’ve had time to reflect, I’ll come get you.” I froze. After a long moment, a chilling smile spread across my face. “Fine. Just fine.” “You can protect her for the rest of your life. I was blind to ever marry you,” I said, already dialing my friend. “Book the tickets. We’re going abroad.” As I walked away, Caleb just sighed, a look of weary resignation on his face. He turned and put a comforting arm around Leah. He didn’t even try to follow me. 4 My friend drove me to a cemetery on the outskirts of the city. “You’re not just going to let this go, are you?” she fumed, rolling up her sleeves. “I’m going to go back there and rip that witch’s tongue out!” “Of course not.” I grabbed her arm, pulling her back. “You’re forgetting something. That American tech firm has been looking for a way into the domestic market. They need a prime piece of real estate.” “As a condition of my employment, I can propose that they acquire the land from Warren. It’s a win-win. The firm gets its foothold, and Warren gets a prestigious international partner. Neither of them will refuse.” My friend stared at me. “Caleb is going to lose his mind when he finds out. If he comes begging… would you ever take him back?” When I remained silent, she shook her head violently. “No, no, forget I said that. That cheating bastard deserves to die alone!” I looked at the two fresh bouquets of roses placed before my parents’ headstones and paused. Forgive him? My father had lost everything in a bad investment, then got swindled by Warren over the Ridgewood property. Drowning in debt, he took his own life to protect my mother and me. He never knew what came after. The debt collectors started showing up the moment I left for college. They were relentless. Students and professors alike started to avoid me. “She looks so clean-cut. Can you believe her family owes that much money? They must have pissed off someone dangerous.” “Who knows. Those guys look like thugs. I bet she’s already sleeping with them to pay it off.” “Probably. How else would a student like her get that kind of money…” I would walk through the hallways with my head down, my hands balled so tightly into fists that my nails drew blood. One day, someone pushed me from behind. I stumbled forward, heading straight for a rusted, broken window frame. I closed my eyes, thinking, if I die, it’ll all be over… The next second, I fell into a warm, strong embrace. Caleb had saved me. He held me, his expression deadly serious. “Don’t listen to them,” he said. “You’re brilliant.” After my father’s death, I had sworn to become strong, to excel at everything, to protect myself and my mother. And from that day on, using the excuse that he’d saved my life, Caleb was always there. It was annoying. He completely upended the solitary life I had grown accustomed to. Then the debt collectors came to our home. They threatened to make my mother and me pay with our bodies. Caleb appeared out of nowhere with a group of security guards and nearly beat them to death. “Stop!” I screamed, rushing to pull him back, a strange panic seizing me. “You’ll go to jail if you kill them! It’s not worth it!” His eyes were bloodshot. “They insulted you!” “They were just threats! You saved me, remember?” I gently took the thick baseball bat from his hands, my voice soft. He always listened to me. After the men were dragged away, he clung to me like a lost puppy. “Even threatening you isn’t okay,” he mumbled into my shoulder. We got together after that. From college, to marriage, to… this. Everything started to sour the day Leah Jones joined his company, three years into our marriage, and began her regular pilgrimages to Caleb’s study. At first, I dismissed her as a naive, ambitious graduate. What boss doesn’t appreciate a hardworking employee? But then she started coming to our house every single week, locking herself in the study with him for the entire day. Any time I needed Caleb, she would intercept, claiming it was urgent work and subtly implying that I was being childish. On my birthday, we had plans. We were going to pick up his mother and go out for a nice dinner. Leah appeared at our door, pulling on Caleb’s sleeve with a look of feigned distress. “Mr. Cross, there are still a few things in the report I don’t understand. You know me, I won’t be able to sleep if I can’t figure it out. Maybe… maybe I could tag along? The more the merrier, right?” “Of course,” Caleb said, already ushering her toward the car. “What part of your personality is this?” I finally snapped, planting my hand on the car door. “The part that thinks it’s okay to intrude on a husband and wife’s private life? Let me get this straight, Leah. What kind of person crashes a private birthday dinner to talk about work? Does the thought of me enjoying myself give you nightmares? Or is there something else you’re after?” I shot a look at Caleb. “That’s not it…” she stammered, a flicker of guilt on her face. Seeing Caleb’s frown, she straightened her spine. “I was just trying to be helpful. If you can’t appreciate that, you don’t have to humiliate me. I’ll just go!” But Caleb still made her get in the car. “What are you so upset about?” he said, smiling as he fastened my seatbelt. “Her intentions are not pure.” “She’s just a kid fresh out of college. What harm could she do? I think you’re overthinking it. Give her a chance. She’s a good kid, hardworking. You’ll like her once you get to know her.” Again and again, he defended her. It was like he was speaking a foreign language. I became a stranger to him, and in his eyes, I was nothing more than a spoiled, jealous wife. 5 So many times, I told her to get out, to never set foot in our house again. And every time, Leah would put on a show, acting as if she’d been mortally wounded and was about to flee in tears. And every time, Caleb would step in to stop me. “Stella, you’re crossing a line. Leah is one of my top executives, someone I mentored myself. Can you stop being so suspicious of everyone? This is my house, and you don’t get to make the rules!” That was the first time his words truly cut me. In a rage, I threw the divorce papers at him. But all it took was a few soft words of apology from him, and I would foolishly tear them up and forgive him. And then Leah would be back in the study. Over time, I grew tired of this version of myself. So yes, I’m tired. I’m done forgiving. But to have a love that was once so profound and all-consuming simply extinguish itself… it’s impossible not to feel a sense of loss. Until two weeks ago, when my mother died.

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1 I was halfway through a shower when the bathroom door was thrown open. I screamed, catching a glimpse of my husband’s childhood friend, Anya, rolling her eyes at me. “Chill,” she said. “We’re both girls. What’s the big deal?” From outside the door, I heard my husband, Ethan, call out, “What’s going on in there?” Anya’s voice was nonchalant. “It’s just Isla. She’s back from her trip and taking a shower. I walked in on her.” Then she added with a smirk, “By the way, I don’t see what you’re always raving about. She’s not that stacked.” Just as I was about to tell her to get out, she whipped out her phone and started snapping photos. Then she ran out of the bathroom, shouting. “Everyone, come see! Was I lying? Ethan acts like his wife is a goddess, but look at this!” … By the time I’d thrown on some clothes and emerged, Anya was lounging on the living room sofa, proudly showing my pictures to Ethan’s friends. “A woman needs to have curves, you know? Up top and in the back. But look at Isla,” she said, zooming in on the photo. “She’s even got a little tummy. You know what that means, right?” “What’s it mean?” someone jeered. The room filled with mocking laughter. “It means,” Anya announced, “that she’s not spending enough time at the gym.” Another wave of snickering went through the group. “If a woman’s body isn’t hot, it’s our boy Ethan who suffers. Right, Ethan?” “Ethan?” Anya turned, and her smile vanished. I was standing right in front of her, dressed, with a cold smile of my own. “Whether my body is good enough or not,” I said, leaning in, “is none of your damn business.” Ethan immediately stepped in, playing peacemaker. “Come on, Isla. That’s just Anya. We’ve all spoiled her since we were kids. She doesn’t mean any harm. Don’t be angry.” I have a temper. Ethan knows this. So when I first found out there was a girl in his tight-knit group of childhood friends, I’d made a fuss. But Ethan had always kept a respectful distance, and I thought he understood. Now, I just looked at him and laughed. “Don’t be angry?” “Fine.” My voice was so calm that Ethan visibly relaxed. He smiled. “See? My wife is so understanding. Besides, we all grew up in diapers together. We’re practically family. It’s—” Before he could finish, I reached out, yanked down the strap of Anya’s tank top, and, as she shrieked, I pulled out my own phone and started snapping away. “Not so impressive, is it?” I said, mimicking her tone perfectly as I clicked the shutter. “Looks like we’re dealing with a flat landscape here. No wonder you haven’t found a man after all these years. You know what that means, don’t you?” I threw her own words back in her face. “It means our dear Anya isn’t trying hard enough. Maybe it’s time to think about implants?” “Isla!” Ethan grabbed my arm and pulled me back. The other guys rushed to cover Anya with jackets and pillows. Her face was pale, her eyes welling with tears. She pointed a trembling finger at me. “You bitch! Have you no shame?” Ethan jumped to her defense. “Anya’s not even dating anyone! How could you do that to her? What is she supposed to do now?” A laugh, sharp and bitter, escaped my lips. Anya took pictures of me naked in the shower. They told me to be generous, that it was just a joke. But when I do the same to her, I’m the one with no shame? It’s a problem because she isn’t married? I turned to face Ethan’s furious expression and slapped him hard across the face. “There’s something you need to understand,” I said, my gaze sweeping from him to his friends, who were all glaring at me as if I were the enemy. “The moment Anya walked into my bathroom and started taking pictures, I called the police.” “Let’s let them decide who’s right and who’s wrong, shall we? Let’s see who the law protects.” A sharp knock came at the door. Ethan finally understood. I was serious. He stared at me in disbelief. “You called the cops over something this small?” “Isla, haven’t you caused enough trouble?” “Not even close.” At the police station, I showed the officer the security footage from my phone. “My husband had friends over. That’s fine. But this woman entered my private bedroom without my permission, walked into my bathroom while I was showering, and maliciously took photos of me, which she then shared with others. I want to press charges for invasion of privacy and distribution of obscene material.” Hearing this, Anya, who had been silent until now, shot up from her chair. “You think I wanted to see your pathetic body? Like you’ve got something special?” She whirled on Ethan. “I told you not to marry this woman! We were all happy together, just our group. But you had to be the one to get tied down!” “And now look!” “Your wife is trying to press charges against me!” “She wants me to go to jail!” Anya burst into tears, a loud, dramatic wail that clearly tugged at Ethan’s heartstrings. His face softened with pity. He turned to the officer to smooth things over. “Officer, this is all just a big misunderstanding.” “My wife is just joking around with us,” he said, then walked over to me, his voice low and pleading. “Isla, if Anya gets a criminal record, how am I supposed to face her parents for the rest of my life? If you won’t think about anyone else, at least think about me.” I looked at his face, so sure that I would back down. It felt like a physical blow to my chest, a dull, aching pain that spread through my ribs. I had to ask. “And if I refuse?” I held his gaze, my voice steady. “What if I refuse to let this go?” “Ethan.” “Whose side are you on? Hers, or mine?” I fought back the wave of nausea and watched as conflict flickered across his face. Over Anya’s theatrical sobs, he looked at me, completely bewildered. “Isla, when did you become so petty and narrow-minded?” He turned back to the officer. “It was just a misunderstanding, sir. My wife was playing a prank on my little sister, that’s all. We can drop it.” Ethan pointed at the footage. “My wife already got her revenge.” I stared at him, unable to believe what I was hearing. “She took private photos of my sister, too. So we can just call it even, right?” They forced me to settle it privately. As we left the station, I saw Anya already sitting in the passenger seat of our car. She rolled down the window as I approached. “Isla, I only call you ‘sis’ to give Ethan some face. Did you really start thinking you were somebody important?” She smirked, her face glowing with triumph. “Let me tell you something. The only reason Ethan married you is because I let him. If I had said no, you could have thrown yourself at him and he wouldn’t have given you a second look.” I watched as Ethan, carrying Anya’s handbag, walked past me. “Honey,” he called out, “get in, let’s go home.” Then Anya shouted from the car. “Don’t you dare call her that! If you do, we’re done!” Ethan froze, looking at me with a pained, apologetic expression. He was about to give in. I could see it. My fingertips went numb. I looked from Ethan to Anya, and then I said, very clearly, “If I remember correctly, this car is in my name.” “So,” I said, walking to the passenger side and yanking the door open, “get out.” “Don’t make me say it twice.” Anya’s eyes widened in disbelief. She looked to Ethan for help, and he immediately grabbed my wrist. “Isla, it’s just a car ride! So you can’t sit in the front seat. Is it impossible for you to take a taxi? Do you have to make a scene and embarrass me like this just to be happy?” Before today, I had never once considered divorce. But after today… I looked at the hand gripping my arm, and I slapped him again. “And let me remind you, it’s not just the car. The house we live in is also my property.” “And one more thing.” “Ethan.” “You,” I said, watching the shock spread across his face as he clutched his cheek, “are out.” I dragged Anya out of the car. Ignoring her stream of curses, I got in, locked the doors, and as Ethan banged on the window, shouting my name, I told him. “Ethan, I’ve made up my mind.” I looked him straight in the eye. “We’re getting a divorce.” My family wasn’t rich, but we weren’t poor. My parents died in a car crash when I was young, and my aunt raised me. She never married, pouring all her love and energy into giving me a warm, stable home. A few years ago, she had a bad fall and broke her leg. That’s when Ethan stepped up. He was with me at the hospital day and night. When the doctor explained the risks of the surgery, he was the one who held me steady when I thought I would collapse. He signed the consent forms for me. “Isla,” he had said, “if the sky falls, you still have me.” How could it not hurt? After all these years, after giving him my whole heart, now I had to face this. I sat in our messy living room, the aftermath of their party still strewn about. From a drawer in the coffee table, I pulled out the surprise I had brought back for him. I had been away on business for three months. I had rushed everything, worked overtime, just to get back in time for his birthday. Now, I held the gift in my hands, and a wave of grief so powerful it stole my breath washed over me. The tears finally came, hot and silent. I threw the gift away, then smashed our wedding photo against the wall. As I stumbled back, my foot caught on a cable, and the projector flickered to life. An image filled the wall. It was Ethan, smiling, as Anya, wearing my silk pajamas, straddled him. “When are you finally going to divorce her?” she asked. My body went rigid. “If I hadn’t left back then, there would be no Isla. She’s had you for this long. How much longer are you going to let her keep you?” It felt like a giant hand was squeezing my heart. I watched as Anya leaned down and kissed him. “Do you love her?” she murmured against his lips. “When you got married… if I had shown up to stop it, would you have left with me?” I remembered our wedding day. Ethan had been distracted, his eyes constantly scanning the entrance to the hall. I thought he was nervous. I thought he was just disappointed that his friends hadn’t all made it. I made a thousand excuses for him. I never once thought it was because of her. “Yes.” I sank to the floor. “If you had come, I would have left with you.” “Because,” Ethan said, taking her hand and pressing it to his chest, “this heart has only ever had room for you.” The sound of their intimacy made my stomach churn. I ran to the bathroom and threw up until there was nothing left. The shattered glass of our wedding photo seemed to mock me from the floor. When I came out, I saw a new message from Ethan. Honey, you were in the wrong today. Since you’re not willing to apologize, I’ll do it for you. I promised Anya I’d take her on a trip for a couple of days to make it up to her. I’ll be back after she’s cooled off. This is the best compromise I could think of, he wrote. Honey, can you please try to control your temper in the future? Even now. He still thought I was just throwing a tantrum. He thought he could buy me a little gift and everything would go back to normal. A voice message followed. I picked out a bag for you at Louis Vuitton. You can go pick it up whenever. In the background, I could hear Anya’s petulant voice. “She’s only getting it because I didn’t want it. She’s so lucky.” So even the gifts he gave me were her cast-offs. I opened my closet and looked at the collection of peace offerings he’d bought me over the years after our fights. Then I opened Anya’s social media. Every piece of jewelry, every handbag… they were identical to mine. Even the colors. The truth was laid bare, and a chill spread through my entire body. I struggled to keep my voice steady. “Ethan.” “I want a divorce.” “Ethan,” I said, my voice trembling despite my efforts, “just sign the papers, and we’re done.” In the background of the call, Anya’s voice grew louder, laced with excitement. “Do it!” she taunted. “Whoever backs out is a dog!” Ethan’s gentle tone was gone, replaced by a cold edge. “Isla, how old are you? Still threatening divorce every time you get upset. Can you be any more childish?” “That’s enough,” he snapped, his patience clearly gone. “I’m just spending a few days with Anya, and then I’ll be back. This whole mess is your fault anyway! I’m the one cleaning it up for you!” He hung up. A moment later, a message from Anya appeared on my screen: [You’re pissed, aren’t you, Isla? As long as you’re miserable, I’m happy. Hahaha.] When I arrived at my aunt’s place with my bags, she was still teasing me. “What’s this? Taking a break from your precious Ethan to come see me?” But then she saw my face, and her expression immediately turned serious. “What happened?” “Aunt Caroline,” I said, placing my laptop on the table. “I want a divorce.” “I’m divorcing Ethan.” I played the video from the projector. The sounds of their panting filled the quiet room. “He’s the one who cheated on me,” I told her. “I don’t owe him any mercy.” Ethan’s job, his connections, even the projects his company worked on were all thanks to my aunt. Without her, he would be nothing. He certainly wouldn’t have the money to be taking Anya on trips and buying her luxury goods. Now, my aunt’s face was like stone. She watched the entire video, then simply asked me, “Have you made up your mind?” She closed the laptop. “The women in our family don’t just take a hit and lie down. Isla, if someone hurts you, you hurt them back. Do you understand?” She pulled me into a hug. “I will always be your rock.” Ethan decided to throw a grand art exhibition for Anya. Her social media became a daily diary of the preparations, a testament to how much he adored her. Finally, the opening night arrived. As Anya entered the gallery on Ethan’s arm, surrounded by influencers and media that had been invited to generate buzz, a reporter asked her, “The theme of tonight’s exhibition is ‘The Muse.’ Ms. Scott, can you tell us who your muse is?” Anya’s gaze softened as she looked at Ethan, who was smiling and chatting with a guest. She turned back to the cameras. “I’m sure my muse will reveal himself to everyone very soon, and we will make our relationship public.” A ripple of applause went through the crowd. Then, someone shouted from the back. “Is this really an art exhibition?” All heads turned. Anya and Ethan looked too, just in time to see the curtain fall from the centerpiece of the exhibit. It wasn’t a painting. It was a massive, blown-up photograph of Ethan and Anya, naked and tangled together. Phones immediately came out, flashes popping as reporters swarmed Anya. “Ms. Scott, what is this?” “Is this your muse?” “Of course not,” I said, stepping out from the crowd before Anya could answer. I smiled at them both. “Think of it as a small gift from me to Ms. Scott.” “Isn’t that right,” I said, my smile widening as I looked at Ethan. “Husband?”

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After remarrying Sebastian, I called out the wrong name in bed again. He paused, not raging like the previous times. He just finished with a dark face. I thought he didn’t care. Until my old friend Elias returned, and I dressed up beautifully to pick him up. On the way, Sebastian called me. He asked: “If I died right now, would you turn back to collect my body, or would you still choose to go see him?” I laughed. Six years ago, I asked him the same question. Back then, Sebastian’s answer was: “Baby, I’ll go see her first, and then come back to collect your body.” 1 Now my answer was the same as Sebastian’s back then. He was silent for a few seconds, then hung up. I arrived at the airport on time. Reunited after a long separation, Elias and I hugged each other. He is a second-generation overseas Chinese who has longed for the taste of home for a long time. I drove Elias to an old neighborhood to eat the most authentic local cuisine. Smoke swirled, voices clamored. The atmosphere was thick with life. The small restaurant was cramped, so we could only sit close together outside. Old friends meeting, endless topics to chat about. Until my phone on the table buzzed. Three words, Sebastian, fell into our eyes. My expression didn’t change as I hung up. The other side persisted, redialing repeatedly. After three consecutive rejections, the other side finally gave up. Elias hesitated for a long time but still asked, “How is your life now?” I took a sip of Coke: “It’s okay. I have a husband and a child, living a stable life.” A slight disappointment flashed in his eyes, fleeting: “That’s good.” “When I learned you were going to remarry Sebastian, I actually didn’t quite agree, worried he would repeat the same mistakes and treat you badly.” “Don’t worry, he doesn’t dare now.” Elias smiled faintly: “Jude would be at peace knowing this in heaven. Before he left, his only wish was for you to be happy.” My grip on the food slipped, and it rolled off the table edge. A striking red oil stain appeared on my light-colored pants. 2 At 11 PM, I returned to Jade Garden. Pushing open the door, the house was pitch black, with only a faint light coming through the window. Just as I was reaching to turn on the light, I suddenly heard someone ask in a low voice from the darkness. “You’re back?” My heart skipped a beat, and I hurriedly pressed the switch. The moment the light turned on. I saw Sebastian sitting on the soft stool by the door like a silent statue. Stung by the light, he instinctively turned his head, frowning slightly. He closed his eyes for a few seconds to adapt before turning his face to look at me. When he raised his eyelids, there was still a lingering daze in his eyes. I breathed a sigh of relief, unable to help complaining: “Are you sick? Sitting here scaring people.” His voice was a bit hoarse: “Thinking about things, forgot to turn on the light.” I bent down to change my shoes. From the corner of my eye, I saw Sebastian naturally reaching out, taking my handbag, and hanging it up. “Have you eaten?” Sebastian asked knowingly. “I ate.” He paused, his gaze falling on my face, his tone softening: “I haven’t eaten yet.” “Can you accompany me to eat a little?” I walked past him inside: “Can’t eat anymore.” But my wrist was gently pulled. I turned back and saw Sebastian looking at me. His voice was lighter than before: “Today is my birthday… sit with me for a while?” A table full of home-cooked dishes. Because they had been sitting for a while and reheated repeatedly, the color and aroma were compromised. Sebastian placed the bowl and chopsticks in front of me, and ladled a full bowl of soup pushing it over. I frowned almost imperceptibly. Seeing this, he immediately lowered his voice: “Just taste a couple of bites, don’t force yourself.” I picked up the spoon and forced a mouthful. Sebastian’s gaze followed my movements. As soon as I put down the spoon, he couldn’t help leaning forward, a hint of expectation in his tone: “How does it taste?” “I remember every winter before, this was your favorite soup.” I lowered my eyes looking at the soup surface: “Average.” His eyes dimmed: “I cooked all the dishes tonight myself.” “Oh, your cooking skills aren’t what they used to be.” He didn’t refute, picking up his chopsticks: “Then I’ll work harder in the future to restore my previous level.” I mocked him: “Threatening to die on the phone, but actually had the leisure to cook a table full of dishes at home?” Sebastian was thick-skinned: “It’s my birthday, can we not talk about this today?” He put a piece of sweet and sour ribs on my plate: “Did you have a pleasant chat with your friend today?” I was too lazy to act with Sebastian, pushing the bowl away and standing up: “Tired, going back to my room first.” After showering, I came out to get water. I found the dining room light still on lonely, the food on the table barely touched. Just about to turn around, suppressed vomiting sounds came from the bathroom, muffled and intermittent. A moment later, the door opened. Sebastian walked out holding the door frame, his face looking somewhat pale under the light. Seeing me standing in the living room, he was stunned. I looked at him carefully in the light and found he seemed to have lost a lot of weight recently. His jawline was sharper, collar button loose, revealing the shadow of a distinct collarbone. He avoided my gaze, pulling a tissue to wipe the corner of his mouth: “Stomach’s been uncomfortable lately.” I didn’t reply, nor did I ask further. Holding the water glass, I looked at him quietly for two seconds, then turned back to my room. 3 Waking up the next day, the other side of the pillow was neat. Sebastian hadn’t returned all night. A knock on the door, followed by a child’s crisp and cheerful shout: “Mommy!” I opened the door, and a small figure immediately threw herself into my arms. She hugged my neck tightly, her cheek pressing softly against my neck. “Mommy Mommy! I missed you so much!” I picked her up, smelling the milky scent on the child, my heart softening into a mess. “Baby! Mommy missed you too!” We were intimate for a while. While washing up, Lily clung to my side. Like a cheerful little bird, chattering sharing interesting things with her friends. The corners of my mouth raised couldn’t come down, leading her hand to the dining room. Sebastian, who had disappeared all night, was standing by the island pouring milk. Fried eggs, bread, and fruits were on the table. Lily let go of my hand and ran over. Sebastian habitually bent down. The child stood on tiptoes and kissed his cheek. “Thank you Daddy!” Sebastian’s eyes curved in a smile, full of doting. After taking seats, Sebastian pushed a cup of clear tea in front of me. He paused, suddenly speaking: “I went out last night.” I didn’t answer, picking up a slice of bread. Lily forked the biggest strawberry in her bowl to me: “Mommy eat?” I took it with a smile: “Eat.” She forked another one to Sebastian: “Daddy!” Sebastian didn’t respond; his gaze was locked on me. Lily’s eyes darted between us, looking confused. I had to turn my head to the person beside me: “Lily is asking if you want a strawberry.” Sebastian took the small fork from the child’s hand: “Thank you baby.” He pulled out a chair and sat next to me. I asked casually: “Where did you go last night?” “Hospital.” Sebastian answered quickly. He deliberately placed his left hand on the table. On the pale back of his hand, a fresh needle mark was clearly visible, with a faint bruise around it. “Went to the emergency room.” I just glanced at it, then withdrew my gaze, continuing to spread cheese for Lily. “Poisoned by your own cooking?” Sebastian laughed, tone deliberately relaxed: “Doctor said it’s chronic gastritis, old problem.” I didn’t want to make the atmosphere too stiff in front of Lily, so I nodded: “Mm, take care of your health.” Sebastian’s dim eyes instantly lit up. A ding from the kitchen, he stood up. “You have a bad appetite in the morning, I stewed some porridge for you.” Watching his thoughtful appearance, I suddenly remembered long ago. Just the roles were swapped. I was the one carefully making porridge for Sebastian. He was the one sick, and I was the one anxious and sleepless all night. And him? Always smiling with a bit of carelessness, looking down on my intentions. “You, instead of bothering with these time-wasting things, might as well use that free time to enrich yourself.” At this moment, Sebastian brought out the hot porridge and placed it in front of me, carefully instructing: “Be careful it’s hot.” My gaze fell on the soft stewed porridge, hiding the mockery at the corner of my mouth. 4 In the remarriage agreement with Sebastian. He set every weekend as our fixed parent-child interaction time. Saturday morning, cloudless and sunny. Sebastian and I took Lily to the amusement park, playing crazily all morning. Coming out, Lily was held in Sebastian’s arms. The child’s cheeks were rosy, eyes watery and bright. She asked me: “Mommy! Can we go to the ocean park in the afternoon?” “Okay, let’s have lunch first.” Lily leaned over and kissed my cheek: “Thank you Mommy! Love Mommy the most!” Sebastian pretended to be jealous: “What about Daddy? Doesn’t Daddy get one?” The kid twisted back in his arms and smacked a kiss on his cheek. Sebastian instantly beamed with joy. Walking out, Sebastian discussed with me where to eat. Lily’s thin bangs were soaked with sweat, so I asked him to put the child down. I squatted down to wipe Lily’s sweat, tidying her collar and hair messed up by the wind. At that moment, I heard a very slight “click”. Looking up, I saw Sebastian’s camera lens pointed at me. Seeing me look at him, Sebastian pressed the shutter again. Click. I instinctively raised my hand to cover, extremely averse to him photographing me: “Don’t shoot!” Sebastian put down the camera: “Nina, we three, seem to haven’t taken a formal family photo yet.” “How about taking one today?” Lily immediately clapped her hands, looking up at me: “Mommy, photo! Take family photo!” Looking at my daughter’s bright eyes, I couldn’t say no in the end. “Okay.” We stood together somewhat stiffly, asking a passerby for help. The moment the shutter pressed, Sebastian’s arm very lightly, almost daring not use force, encircled behind me. “Done!” The passerby smiled and returned the camera. Sebastian checked the photo repeatedly, a satisfied smile on his lips. The driver brought the car around. Sebastian put Lily in the child seat and buckled the seatbelt. My phone rang, it was Elias. “Hello?” I walked aside. The voice on the other end was weak: “Nina, which hospital near the Second Ring Road is reliable?” I frowned tight: “What happened to you?” Elias was weak: “Probably acclimatization, started a high fever last night.” “Are you at the hotel?” “Wait for me, I’ll pick you up to the hospital.” Hanging up, I walked back quickly, briefly explaining to Sebastian: “You take Lily to eat first, I have something to do.” Turning around, my wrist was suddenly grabbed by a strong force. “Where are you going?” “Something up with Elias, I’m going over to see.” Sebastian’s good mood vanished instantly. His face turned gloomy, voice lowered, every word seemed squeezed out through teeth: “Not allowed to go. It’s in the agreement, every weekend is time with Lily, you want to breach the contract?” I looked up, staring at him coldly: “The agreement also states, you are not allowed to interfere with my freedom for any reason. What, want to divorce early?” His pupils shrank, gripping my hand tighter, anger unbearable: “Is that Elias more important than Lily? You’d rather sacrifice time with the child to accompany him?” “He’s sick alone in a strange city, as his only friend locally I must visit.” I shook off his hand. “If nothing serious, I’ll come back to accompany Lily.” “Not allowed to go! I forbid you to go!” I was annoyed: “Sebastian, stop making trouble out of nothing!” He finally stopped acting virtuous, flustered and exasperated. Started calling my full name, tone grim, “Nina Lu, dare you try going?”

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I was a hopeless straight girl. I transmigrated into a steamy romance novel. To prevent myself from being tossed around in various unspeakable positions without limits. I resolutely started pretending to be a lesbian. Suddenly, I learned that I was the real heiress with three “chosen one” brothers. The fake heiress, the family favorite, cried her heart out, begging me not to take everything away from her. My heart ached as I wiped away her tears and gave her a peck on the lips. I promised: “Don’t worry, I’m a lesbian. I fell in love with you at first sight a long time ago. I’m not here to break up this family; I’m here to join it. Rest assured, you will only receive more love.” The fake heiress froze. My three brothers, who were preparing to intervene from a distance: ??? 1. I was a hopeless straight girl. I transmigrated into a restricted novel full of explicit scenes. The first male lead was a domineering CEO who could bankrupt companies with a snap of his fingers. He liked forced love and was addicted to sex. The second male lead was a cold and aloof doctor, a flower on a high peak. He was abstinent and restrained but loved playing with various toys. The third male lead was a rebellious movie star who said one thing but whose body did another. I was just hiding under my blanket in the middle of the night, trying to sneak a peek at some “good stuff,” never thinking I would transmigrate. I repented. I regretted. I pounded the floor, crying bitter tears. If I had known this would happen, I would have memorized the entire text. But just for the sake of the smut, I skipped all the plot. As a result, my mind was now full of nothing but explicit content, knowing nothing else. Oh wait, I also knew the heroine’s name. It turned out to be the body I transmigrated into. Silly girl, she must be regretting it so much her intestines turned green. 2. To prevent being endlessly demanded by those men, endlessly doing the deed. I resolutely embarked on the path of being a lesbian. From a young age, I avoided becoming anything like the heroine in that smutty novel. Dancing from a young age, having a soft and delicate body, being weak and timidly beautiful, able to perform various difficult movements to facilitate men doing this and that… Sorry. I practiced martial arts from a young age; I could take on five at once. More than once, I rescued sisters who were surrounded by thugs. With a swift hand, I beat those thugs until they pissed their pants. I wiped away the tears of the sister, brushed her soft hair, and whispered to her: “I’m here, don’t be afraid.” The sister buried her face in my chest, moved, calling me “Big Sister.” That’s right, although I had tried hard to avoid the heroine’s various “virtues.” Excellent grades, kind and soft-hearted, soft and delicate body… But, I still grew up with the devilishly curvy figure of a novel heroine. However, it didn’t matter. With my years of saving damsels in distress. My reputation as a lesbian had spread through every street and alley. Renowned far and wide. Successfully cutting off the vast majority of heterosexual luck. When I once again blocked a basketball attack for a cute girl on the playground, those boys finally couldn’t bear it anymore. “Maya, can you stop ruining our fun? Just because you’re handsome, just because you can block basketballs, just because you can flirt with girls.” How could I not know what those boys were thinking? Nothing more than picking a pretty girl they were interested in to hit, then taking the opportunity to apologize, strike up a conversation, and add her contact. But, sorry. I couldn’t bring myself to hurt girls. I raised my hand, the ball fell, a jump, a perfect shot. Then I gave a middle finger to mock them. “Little brother, can’t even shoot straight, and you want to flirt. Practice more.” The cute girl I just rescued looked at me with adoration. For me, it was just a daily routine. I waved my hand. A gritting voice sounded from behind: “How many sisters do you have exactly?” My childhood friend Sam, pulling his little handkerchief, said resentfully. I looked at the sky, pretending nothing happened. Then I solemnly promised: “Don’t worry, strictly speaking, as an orphan, I won’t have any sisters.” But I didn’t expect my sister to come so quickly. 3. When the powerful Huo family from the capital came knocking on my door, I was still a bit confused. I had three brothers who were like “chosen ones”? And a fake heiress sister who had taken my place and lived for seventeen years? How could life be as full of ups and downs as a novel? Oh, seventeen years, I almost forgot this was a smut novel. Suddenly, my alarm bells rang loud. Did it mean the explicit plot was about to start?! Impossible, absolutely impossible. I wouldn’t become like a broken rag doll, being played with on the bed all day. 4. I looked at the luxurious yet tasteful decoration of the Huo family home. At the stairs, a girl in a white dress was looking at me pitifully. I savored it carefully. Truly teary-eyed, inspiring pity. She took a step forward, held my hand, and spat sad words from her pink lips. “I know I occupied your identity for seventeen years and enjoyed all this, it’s my fault. But, please, please don’t kick me out, don’t take everything away from me.” “I can live in the maid’s room, give you my room. I won’t fight with you, sister, please let me stay.” As she spoke, she bent her knees, wanting to kneel. But how could I bear it? I immediately supported her. Heart aching, I wiped away her tears and gave her a peck on the lips. I promised: “Don’t worry, I’m a lesbian. I fell in love with you at first sight a long time ago. I’m not here to break up this family; I’m here to join it. Rest assured, you will only receive more love.” The fake heiress, Chloe, froze. My three brothers, who were preparing to intervene from a distance: ??? The teacup in Big Brother’s hand shook, spilling hot tea and burning himself. Second Brother’s probing gaze swept over me, wondering what he was thinking. Third Brother, who was about to run over, stumbled and almost fell.

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To satisfy the director’s sick fantasy, my wife told me she’d been forced onto the casting couch. “Honey, you can’t call the police,” she’d sobbed, her body trembling. “It would ruin me! You have to help me!” Her plan was for me to hide in a closet and gather evidence. I looked at her tear-stained face, my heart a frozen stone in my chest. If I hadn’t accidentally overheard that phone call three days ago, I would have been a puppet in her twisted little play. She buried her face in my chest. “You’re the only one who can save me, Cole. The only one who can save my career.” I stared down at her, my expression unreadable, until she looked up at me, a flicker of unease in her eyes. Only then did I speak, my voice flat. “If it’s what my darling wife wants,” I said softly, “then I’ll play my part.” A tremor ran through her body. A complex, unreadable emotion flashed across her face. If it’s a game you want, then I’ll play along. But we’ll be playing by my rules. 1 Three in the morning. The digital lock on the front door beeped softly. I sat in the dark living room, watching the figure stumble through the doorway. She was barefoot, clutching a designer high-heel with a snapped stiletto. The collar of her couture gown was ripped halfway open, revealing a cluster of angry red marks just below her collarbone. “Cole,” she gasped the moment I flipped on the lights. She launched herself at me. Her hair was a mess, her makeup smeared into a tragic mask. As she crashed into my arms, a foul cocktail of scents assaulted me. Her signature perfume was heavy, but underneath it, I could smell the acrid stench of tobacco. And something else… a coppery, intimate odor that made my stomach clench. But I didn’t push her away. I just forced myself to remain calm. “Stella? What happened?” Stella lifted her head, her eyes brimming with tears. “It was Vance, the director. He’s insane! At the wrap party tonight, he kept forcing drinks on me, and then he dragged me into a private lounge…” She choked on a sob, unable to continue. I guided her to the sofa and went to get the first-aid kit. I used to be a medical examiner before I gave it all up to be her full-time husband. I have a professional’s eye for injuries. I knelt before her, tending to the scrapes on her knees. It was a dark, purplish bruise, swollen and raw from being rubbed repeatedly against a coarse carpet. This wasn’t from a fall. It was pressure-induced purpura, the kind formed from kneeling on a hard surface for a prolonged period. “He threatened me,” she whimpered, her whole body shaking. “He said if I didn’t do what he wanted, he’d blacklist me. Cole, I was so scared.” My hand, holding the cotton swab, froze just above her knee. I saw the marks on her wrists. They weren’t the messy, uneven bruises of someone being dragged against their will. They were a pair of neat, symmetrical bands of red. The kind left by restraints. “He was like an animal,” she continued, her tears splashing onto the back of my hand. “He ripped my dress in seconds.” “If I hadn’t smashed a bottle over my own head and run for it, tonight I might have been…” I glanced at her forehead. There was a slight red bump, but the skin wasn’t even broken. It was the kind of minor injury you get from a bit of rough foreplay, not a desperate escape. Does she really think I’m that blind? That stupid? My fingers tightened, and the cotton swab snapped in two. I tossed it into the trash without a word and grabbed a new one. “Cole, say something,” Stella pleaded, cupping my face in her hands and forcing me to meet her gaze. “Are you disgusted with me?” In the lamplight, her pupils were slightly dilated. I didn’t see the relief of a survivor or the shame of a victim. I saw a strange, unsettling excitement. “No,” I said, gently pulling her hands away. “I’m just thinking we should call the police.” The moment I said “police,” her body went rigid. “No!” she shrieked, then immediately softened her tone. “We can’t. Vance has things he can use against me, and there were no cameras in that room. We’d never win, and my reputation would be destroyed.” “Then what do you want to do?” Stella bit her lip, took a deep breath, and leaned in close, her expression one of grim determination. That nauseating mix of tobacco and sex filled my nostrils again. “I want revenge, honey.” Her voice dropped to a low, husky whisper. “A man like Vance… his biggest fear is having his reputation ruined. He told me he’s coming to my hotel room again tomorrow night.” “This is my only chance.” 2 She gripped my hand, her knuckles white. “Tomorrow night, we’ll set up hidden cameras in the room. But that’s not enough. What if he tries something else? It could all go wrong.” “Cole, I need you to hide in the closet.” I lifted my eyes to meet hers. “You want me to hide in the closet?” “Yes. You’ll get there first with a key card and hide inside.” She spoke faster now, a manic gleam in her eyes. “The hotel closets have louvered doors. You’ll be able to breathe, and you’ll see everything.” “You can record it all on your phone. It’ll be ironclad proof. The second you have footage of him laying a hand on me, you burst out and we catch him in the act!” “Please, Cole.” She buried her face in my lap. “It’s the only way to save me. Please!” The air grew thick and still. I looked down at my wife, kneeling at my feet. It was the perfect script. The victimized starlet, the monstrous director, and the husband forced to swallow his pride to protect his wife. If it hadn’t been for the phone call I’d overheard three days ago, the performance would have been flawless. She had gone to “discuss the script” with Vance that day and came back reeking of smoke. I have a thing about cleanliness, so I went to her car to place some charcoal air fresheners. The moment I got in, the car’s Bluetooth connected to her phone and automatically played her most recent call recording, a feature she’d set up to keep track of conversations with her agent. “Vance, darling, this new script is so thrilling. But what if that stiff of a husband of mine won’t play along?” A man’s greasy laugh. “Oh, he’ll watch. A pathetic weakling like that? You just have to cry a little, and he’ll do anything you say.” “Imagine him, stuck in the closet, watching us… Tsk, the thought of it… Tell me, my famous Stella, doesn’t that excite you?” “Stop it! Although… it does sound kind of hot. Having him watch with his own two eyes…” The rest of her words were lost in a series of suggestive moans. Her voice pulled me back from the memory. I looked at the woman at my feet, still giving the performance of her life. I wasn’t angry anymore. It was almost laughable. I, a medical examiner with a promising career, had given it all up for her, only to be treated like this. “Alright,” I said slowly. “If this is what it takes to help you, I’ll do it.” Stella’s head shot up, a triumphant smile she couldn’t suppress spreading across her lips. She threw her arms around me and planted a wet kiss on my cheek. The sickening smell washed over me again. I forced myself to return the embrace, resting my chin on the top of her head. My eyes fell on the large floor-to-ceiling mirror across the room. The man reflected in it was me, but his face was a blank, emotionless mask. If you want to act, then I’ll put on a real show for you. But this play won’t end according to your script. “Go take a shower,” I said, gently patting her back. “I’ve already run the water. Wash it all away.” Stella nodded meekly and headed to the bathroom. The moment the door clicked shut, the warmth vanished from my face. I walked to the entryway where she’d left her phone, screen-down. It was still on an active call. The screen read: “Vance.” I didn’t hang up. I just placed it back down as if I’d seen nothing. After her shower, Stella walked into the bedroom. “Honey, Vance just called. He wants to have dinner with us tomorrow. Can you make it?” she said, feigning annoyance. “I have no idea what he’s planning now, it’s so frustrating…” But I could see the glint of anticipation deep in her eyes. I nodded. “I’ll go. Let’s see what he has to say.” 3 At the dinner, I was seated at the far end of the table, the lowest position. “Alright, everyone, a toast!” Vance, at the head of the table, raised his glass. His fat face was flushed with alcohol, glistening with sweat and oil. I raised my glass with the others. Vance’s eyes slid right past me, landing on Stella, who was seated beside him. She was dressed for the part tonight in a black slip dress, the material thin and sheer. It was only then I noticed she wasn’t wearing her wedding ring. Her bare fingers were expertly peeling a crawfish. “Waiter! Is the AC in here set to arctic?” Vance suddenly boomed, rubbing his hands together dramatically. He then held one hand out in front of Stella. “My hands are freezing.” The table fell silent. Every eye in the room turned to me. Every eye except for Vance and Stella. I watched as my wife casually tossed the crawfish shell aside, wiped her fingers meticulously with a wet nap, and turned to the director with a dazzling smile. “Director Vance, you have to take care of yourself. We can’t have you catching a chill.” As she spoke, she took his greasy paw in her hand. Then, in front of the entire cast and crew, in front of me, her husband, she pulled his hand into her dress, nestling it in the warmth of her cleavage. “It’s warmer in here,” she purred. As his hand started to move, her eyes fluttered shut like a contented cat. “You just warm up right there. Honey,” she called to me, “can you go turn up the thermostat?” A wave of nausea washed over me, but I fought it down. I slipped my hand under the table and pressed the side button on my phone. The recording began. “Hahaha! You’re one of a kind, Stella!” Vance roared with laughter, his wrist moving beneath the fabric of her dress. The table erupted in sycophantic chatter. “Hey, you,” an assistant director said, kicking the leg of my chair. “Aren’t you going to toast the director? Your wife is so accommodating. Don’t you drop the ball.” I looked up and my eyes met Stella’s. She gave me a subtle look, a silent plea to endure this for the sake of the ‘bigger plan.’ “Cole.” Vance didn’t remove his hand. He simply used his other one to point at me with his wine glass. “Truth be told, there were a lot of actresses up for this role.” He let out a boozy burp. “If Stella hadn’t gotten on her knees and begged me the other day, you wouldn’t even have the right to be in this room.” “Of course. Stella is lucky to have your guidance.” “Look at you, so flexible!” Vance sneered. He grabbed a copy of the script and slapped me across the face with it, sending pages scattering to the floor. “You think one sentence from you is enough? Who the hell do you think you are?” I knelt to pick up the script pages. Under the table, I saw two pairs of legs tangled together. Vance’s Gucci loafers were resting firmly on Stella’s bare feet. “Alright,” Vance said, picking up the decanter, still half-full of red wine. “Since you’re asking me for a favor, you’ll drink this whole thing. Then I’ll give Stella another chance.” I have a severe ulcer. Stella knew this. The doctor had warned me that one more drink of hard liquor could perforate my stomach. I looked at her. She was nestled against Vance, her gaze floating over to me, cool and detached. “What? Not showing me enough respect?” Vance’s face darkened. “Honey,” Stella finally spoke. “So many people would kill for a chance to drink with Director Vance. Just do it for me. Drink up.” She stood, took the decanter from his hand. “Director Vance, your arm must be tired. Let me pour for you.” She walked over to me. “Drink it, Cole.”

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